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Decade :: The Strokes, Is This It (2001)

There could be a lot to resent about the Strokes before ever listening to their music. A bunch of wealthy, well-traveled prep-school kids from Manhattan hit a bit of luck and became an overnight sensation. The money, the pedigree, the luck -- all potential sources of envy, cynicism and ire for an everyday Joe like you or me who may feel, at times, short on all three and who may wonder why good fortune seems to be bestowed on those who already have it by the truckload. But that's all before you listen to Is This It, and most likely you probably didn't know most of that anyway when you first heard it.

My first introduction to the band was by way of their video for "Last Nite" featuring the band kicking around a soundstage reminiscent of the bygone days of television programs where the guest musicians might've been the Monkees or the Carpenters, or a maybe a young Mick Jagger, bangs and all. (Its haloing, intentionally low resolution led me to believe it might be the start of a Mentos commercial. Seriously.) But by the end of the video, I was scrambling to buy the record. I wasn't alone. Labels reacted similarly, as "Last Nite" leaked/teased ahead of The Modern Age three-track EP, which ultimately ignited a bidding war that resulted in the release of Is This It on RCA.

Even now, "Last Nite," as familiar as it is, feels simplistic. It's short, to the point, rough and free of any layered production effects. The album, of course, is much in accord, and it's this that makes it difficult to describe the Strokes' immediate and lasting impact on the decade, and likely far beyond. Because how can something so small be so big? Shakespeare says "brevity is the soul of wit," and so too, may it be the heart of music.

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Decade :: Interpol, Turn On The Bright Lights (2002)

Following 9/11, the world seemed a bit colder. If there were an historical event that defined the 00s for the United States, it was certainly that one, and the disillusioned wake of its terror certainly felt chilly and uncertain. Maybe that's why the renewed interest in Joy Division and the late Ian Curtis sprang up in recent years - a music perfect for soundtracking the removed time in which we lived. Perhaps, also, that's why Interpol struck such a chord with people in 2002. The band's icy distillation of post-punk was, admittedly, a reminder of their Mancunian forebearers, but done in a way that seemed inherently of its own time and place.

Turn on the Bright Lights, Interpol's first and best record, is the type of debut album that can make and break a band simultaneously. Certainly Interpol has had a rough time critically living up to its near-perfect tone in the ensuing years. But as I sat down to revisit this album for, honestly, the first time in close to five years, it felt like opening an icy tomb, the wintry breath of 2002 sweeping across my ears. I shivered and remembered the first time I heard the untitled first song's delicate, hypnotic opening moments and its lyrics perfectly hanging the era in the painful light of truth - "Surprise, sometimes, will come around." Like an elegy to a moment where facade falls away, it was a bracing piece of art rock unlike anything else around it at the time.

Though its lyrics seem trained inward, rather than outward, "NYC"'s breathtaking bridge is the album's purest moment. When the drums momentarily drop out, the thrumming guitars laying down a foundation for what's to come, Paul Banks delivers the album's titular line. Evoking images of Tribute in Light, "turn on the bright lights" seems like more than just another casual line of self-reflection. This is the inside identifying itself with the outside and finding its most honest self in the world around it, like an urban Romantic finding expression in the concrete world.

The album is a daunting listen - there is no resolution, no happiness, no joyous chorus or riff to be found. It is a dark, frigid exploration of a modern person, unsure even of the right words for themselves and the people around them, but finding in the larger world's chaotic expanse a note with which to harmonize and define. words/ j neas

MP3: Interpol :: Untitled
MP3: Interpol :: NYC
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+ After the jump: Interpol's Black Session: Maison de la Radio, Aug 27th 2002

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Decade :: Broken Social Scene, You Forgot It In People (2002)

As Justin said in his Decade entry on Sufjan Stevens’ Michigan, some albums feel intrinsically linked to the experience of listening to them.   Maybe it’s a romantic sentiment, but music works like some aural madeleine, carrying dense and indulgent sensory memories that go deeper than the textures of the notes and melodies and into some–well, okay, it is a romantic sentiment, but if we’ve all brushed off romance, then we probably already . . .

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Decade :: The Arcade Fire, Funeral (2004)

It'd be easy to peg Funeral a death processional. People have done it before. Nearly every time anyone ever talked about the record, in fact. I never read the liner notes to the album, but apparently they mention the death of three family members of the band, and their inspirational impact. And then, of course, there's the album name, so coldly explicit, or . . .

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Vic Chesnutt :: Left To His Own Devices

Vic was our Keats, our Nina Simone. There will never be another like him. - Guy Picciotto, Fugazi

It's funny the things we tend to remember, or I should say, the things I tend to remember. The minutiae. The first time I heard the name Vic Chesnutt was in the Fall of 1995; I was 20 years old and a sophomore at the University of Georgia in Athens. Having recently been turned on to Jack . . .

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SIRIUS/XMU :: Aquarium Drunkard Show

Our weekly two hour show on SIRIUS/XM, channel 26 (SIRIUS), and channel 43 (XM), can now be heard twice, every Friday - Noon EST with an encore broadcast at Midnight EST. Below is this week’s playlist.

SIRIUS 122: Jean Michel Bernard - Generique Stephane ++ R.E.M. - Letter Never Sent ++ The Walkmen - We've Been Had ++ The National - All The Wine ++ The Clientele - I Wonder Who We Are ++ Cotton Jones - Nicotine Canaries ++ The Ruby Suns - Remember ++ The Beach . . .

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Decade :: Ryan Adams, Heartbreaker (2000)

What is it that makes us want to deconstruct art by units of time? Lists. We love making them. We love arguing over them. And here, on the verge of a new decade, we’re in a position to do the same again. What were the best albums of the past ten years?

Here at AD, we started talking it through and decided we weren’t going to add to the cacophony of lists being put out by various music pubs. There are enough of those. Since the beginning of October, Monday through Friday, we . . .

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Decade :: Elliott Smith, Figure 8 (2000)

What is it that makes us want to deconstruct art by units of time? Lists. We love making them. We love arguing over them. And here, on the verge of a new decade, we’re in a position to do the same again. What were the best albums of the past ten years?

Here at AD, we started talking it through and decided we weren’t going to add to the cacophony of lists being put out by various music pubs. There are enough of those. Since the beginning of October, Monday through Friday, we have been featuring posts detailing . . .

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Decade :: TV On The Radio, Return to Cookie Mountain (2006)

What is it that makes us want to deconstruct art by units of time? Lists. We love making them. We love arguing over them. And here, on the verge of a new decade, we’re in a position to do the same again. What were the best albums of the past ten years?

Here at AD, we started talking it through and decided we weren’t going to add to the cacophony of lists being put out by various music pubs. There are enough of those. Since the beginning of October, Monday through Friday, we have been featuring posts detailing . . .

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Decade :: Outkast, Stankonia (2000)

What is it that makes us want to deconstruct art by units of time? Lists. We love making them. We love arguing over them. And here, on the verge of a new decade, we’re in a position to do the same again. What were the best albums of the past ten years?

Here at AD, we started talking it through and decided we weren’t going to add to the cacophony of lists being put out by various music pubs. There are enough of those. Since the beginning of October, Monday through Friday, we have been featuring posts detailing . . .

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Decade :: Trail of Dead, Source Tags and Codes (2002)

What is it that makes us want to deconstruct art by units of time? Lists. We love making them. We love arguing over them. And here, on the verge of a new decade, we’re in a position to do the same again. What were the best albums of the past ten years?

Here at AD, we started talking it through and decided we weren’t going to add to the cacophony of lists being put out by various music pubs. There are enough of those. Since the beginning of October, Monday through Friday, we have been featuring posts detailing our favorite albums of the decade. Now with less than two weeks left in the last year of the first decade of the new millennium we are ramping up--highlighting our absolute favorites.

Nothing can stop me in my tracks faster than the phrase “change your life.”   Maybe I’m just stubborn, stuck in whatever form I was made in--or re-made in--but my skin crawls every time a book, a record, a film is supposed to change my life, or any time I hear someone close to me say that some work of art has changed their life.

I’d like to think that I’m just being fair to the work, whatever it is.   It’s quite a bit of pressure to put on something, after all--to assume, before you’ve even heard the group, that the unfurling of a few notes of music are going to mark the pre- and post- in your biography.   With those expectations, it’s almost impossible to hear -- or read, or see -- anything the way you were supposed to.

“Moments can be monuments to you,” David Berman sang in the Silver Jews song “People”, before conceding, “If your life is interesting, true.”   Indie rock has always been about deflating the thoughts of those who would tell you that every moment has to matter, that tiny things are more important than they seem to be.   Way over yonder in the more emo camp, you’ll hear that every single moment matters so much--”shouting the poetic truths of high-school journal keepers”, as Sonic Youth’s Lee Ranaldo once said.   The real truth, though, probably lies somewhere in the middle of these two places, some place where the quotidian can be both nothing and everything, where big moments are actually made up of tons of smaller moments.

…And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead’s magnum opus, 2002’s Source Tags and Codes, falls right into that fertile country: somewhere between Sonic Youth’s squall, Pavement’s squiggling, and Refused’s new noise, all of it built into a Babel of feedback and tied together with the strings of a violin.   It’s emotional without being maudlin, honest without being trite, loud without being dumb--and even if Trail of Dead couldn’t capture it again on subsequent releases, well, neither could anyone else.

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Aquarium Drunkard :: 2009 Year In Review

Here it is -- our obligatory year-end list. Mixing things up, I decided to take a different tack this year and feature more than fifteen albums (see: previous year-end lists). With one caveat: none of us could write more than several sentences about each LP as the Decade series has been lengthy enough. An exceptionally strong year for new music, even expanding our list considerably it was difficult to leave out some very worthy contenders.

As always, except for AD's album of the year, Veckatimest, the below list of records is not ranked in any particular order. Enjoy, we did. -- j gage, j neas, j crosby, m garner

Grizzly Bear's third LP and best to date, Veckatimest feels cinematic in scope, like a 12-act progression through a beautifully constructed panorama. Its lavish composition finds multiple moving parts coalescing into a single, tangible whole, where even wordless moments are fat with enchanting imagery. Listening to it is like trying to chart a swift breeze by the flutter of the leaves it touches. It weaves in and out and wanders in circles. That isn't hyperbole or an attempt at conceptualizing the abstract; you literally find the music moving around you, at times predominantly in front, swimming to the side and swooping behind before flying back around. Take the introduction, "Southern Point," a kaleidoscopic five minute song with jazz inclinations that makes you nearly forget for a moment that someone is even singing as you get caught up in simply following the sound. Throughout the album, ornate arrangements, accompaniment from the Acme String Quartet and Brooklyn Youth Choir, and even episodes of acoustic solitude assist in that intoxication. Such simple complexity doesn't peel away its layers in just one or even 10 spins through. Even "Two Weeks," the critically adored standards ballad and most straightforward lyrical vehicle on the record, does not fully unfurl itself until you've had time to absorb its plea to quietude amid a sometimes frenzied relationship, the plea itself a slow indulgence.

Founder Ed Droste has noted that Veckatimest is the first time the group has truly collaborated, creating each step together rather than patching together piecemeal from the individual creative efforts of its members. Infusing a more collective element from the start is likely primary among reasons for Veckatimest's subdued extravagance. It's allowed Grizzly Bear to compose a seamlessly diverse and innovative piece in which even more obvious genre samples, such as the aforementioned jazz and standards forms, are still almost lost under the ethereal elegance of its atmosphere. Only upon returning to the record repeatedly, skipped tracks be damned, can you expect to discover the variegated textures of their colorful and meticulous efforts. Ironically, this is made all the more difficult as each new discovery can distract from the potential of the next, so as the record comes to a close you once again find yourself pressing play. (buy)
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Big Star :: Keep An Eye On The Sky - At long last the pioneers of power-pop get their due with this meticulously crafted box set. Essential, as in, if you've somehow missed out on this chapter of rock history, here is your all-in-one tutorial. (buy)

Death :: For The Whole World To See - Whoa, holy shit - where did this come from?!? Earlier this year Drag City Records unearthed and unleashed this '70s proto-punk wallop on the masses. Imagine if Bad Brains had taken up residence with the MC5 gang in Detroit Rock City. Fierce. (buy)

Ghana Special: Modern Highlife, Afro-Sounds and Ghanaian Blues 1968-1981
- The past five or so years have found me digging for more and more non-western sounds, namely rare and out of print 60s and 70s highlife/afrobeat. This is in large part due to the efforts of labels like Soundway. Ghana Special is no exception. (buy)

MP3: K. Frimpong & His Cubanos Fiestas :: Kyenkyen Bi Adi

Atlas Sound :: Logos - Bradford Cox continues to impress, whether recording with Deerhunter, or here under his Atlas Sound moniker. A true student of music, Logos mines yet another set of Cox's varied influences with typically impressive results. One of my favorite artists of the second half of the decade. (buy)

Sharon Van Etten :: Because I Was In Love
- A sleeper, Van Etten's Because I Was In Love was quietly released by Drag City only to gain momentum the old fashioned way: by word of mouth. And it is all the better for it. (buy)

Tune-Yards :: Birdbrains - 45 schizophrenic minutes of clanky beats, folky yelping and quasi-yodeling. Sound good? You bet. By far one of the more interesting records I happened upon the second half of the year.   (buy)

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Decade :: Josh Ritter, The Animal Years (2006)

What is it that makes us want to deconstruct art by units of time? Lists. We love making them. We love arguing over them. And here, on the verge of a new decade, we’re in a position to do the same again. What were the best albums of the past ten years?

Here at AD, we started talking it through and decided we weren’t going to add to the cacophony of lists being put out by various music pubs. There are enough of those. Since the beginning of October, Monday through Friday, we have been featuring posts detailing . . .

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Listening To Otis Redding At Home During Christmas…

One of my favorite Okkervil River songs, I always save "Listening To Otis Redding At Home During Christmas" for December, as Will Sheff so perfectly captures the emotional undercurrent of the season. Melancholic? Yes. Smart? Indeed.

MP3: Okkervil River :: Listening To Otis Redding At Home During Christmas
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+ Download Okkervil River

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The Trip :: Curated By Jarvis Cocker & Steve Mackey

We've discussed the art of the mix many times on AD in the past, none more so than on A Cassette Valediction parts one and two. A well curated mix, be it an . . .

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