Top 100 Albums 2000-2009: #10

10. Ides of Space – There Are No New Clouds (2001, Better Looking)

It’s probably no surprise to you, if you’ve known me longer than a couple of years, that this record would make it so high on my list. This was maybe my favorite record in high school (the last year of it, anyway), and my passing it along to Eric was arguably the beginning of any shoegaze tendencies you may notice in Old Radio or have noticed in any of the half-dozen other bands we’ve been in together over the years. In fact, this was the first album described as “shoegaze” that I really connected with, and it opened up the whole genre for me. This even predates My Bloody Valentine in my musical timeline; I came to them late.

If you haven’t heard of Ides of Space, you’re not alone; they were a semi-hit in their native Australia, but didn’t make a huge splash in the States. Their story is familiar, but nonetheless prodigious: they formed very shortly before a battle-of-the-bands-type competition, gave themselves the name Firehosereel, were dismissed from the competition, and suddenly returned as Ides of Space with a deceptively mature, measured indie-shoegaze sound. Patrick Haid’s voice, never rising much above a whisper and always double-tracked, is buoyed by rollicking ’90s-alt-rock guitars, their sound punching in somewhere between Dinosaur Jr. and Chapterhouse. Their distorted guitar tones drape themselves over choruses like warm blankets of fuzz, and sparkly synth lines and chiming guitar leads evoke images of Tokyo at night, all blurred lights and you’re looking up, dizzy.

Ides of Space: forefathers of the picnicgaze genre

I’ve listened to this album on airplanes, landing as the sun is coming up; I’ve listened to it wandering lonely through the rain in Boston; I’ve listened to it on long drives down dark roads, half-asleep; I’ve listened to it alone in my bedroom—many bedrooms, in each place I’ve lived since I moved out of the house—and with each listen I’m filled with a kind of brimming optimism, a silly, little kid-ish hope that I’ll do something great one day, soundtracked by this album that feels like my own.

Although technically a compilation of two EPs, this thing plays like a concept album. Lyrically, even after so many listens, I find new things to love. Haid’s stories are somewhat vague in places, a shroud of mystery hanging even over lines I could sing in my sleep. On “Keep Writing,” Haid sings, “We almost knew each other once, it was a shame. You moved a million miles away. And floating in between the lines there is a game that neither one of us could play. But in the evening hovering around a sound, the time was never there and you were never found.” There’s something so heartfelt in those lines, and vague as they are, a story is told even in those few words. When you examine the overall lyrical themes on the album, too, it’s no wonder it struck me so hard when it did: the two biggest concerns of Haid’s seem to be childhood and the art of writing. Those two subjects appear in nearly every song, sometimes both in one. The childhood theme is especially interesting; Haid seems to have a keen grasp on what it was like to be a child, how to articulate that, and throughout this album he’s lamenting the fact that childhood has mostly gone (“We could play this tragic teen game, and hate each other for being the same”). Between references to Alice in Wonderland and drawing fantastical pictures, there’s one of my favorite lyrical passages on the album, from “Random Noise Generator,” a moment that perfectly captures Haid’s sense of childlike awe:

“In the deep well, in the fine line, where there is never time for books or games or silly names, the only flowers are on your dress, and I know all the rest is hidden under dolls and smiles. So take your path and I’ll take mine, and when me meet again sometime, tell me of dragons and poets and unicorns, fighting and flying or trying. I’ll wait to hear it all.”

I always imagined he was singing to a younger sister, someone leading a different life, telling her to never stop being a kid. It’s good advice.

Click below to listen to “Random Noise Generator.” It’ll make you feel young again.

Top 100 Albums 2000-2009: #100 – #11

I think it may have been Eric Peterson‘s idea, originally, to compile a list of my favorite records of the last decade. He mentioned it earlier in the year, and I pretty much forgot all about it. Then, when lamenting that I could barely come up with a Top 10 list for 2009 (which was shocking after 2008 proved to be such a good year for my music library), he reminded me. “Top ten of the decade, man.” And why not? What better decade to evaluate than the one in which I came of age musically? I was 15 in 2000, just finding out about Weezer and Jimmy Eat World and The Get Up Kids and Sunny Day Real Estate and the like. I had a long road ahead of me. Ten years later, here I am. So this is it. I painstakingly went through more or less my entire record collection, pulling out my favorites and plugging them into an Excel spreadsheet. Then—and this was the truly painful part—I took to ranking them the best I could.

A few words on the ranking: first of all, it was, of course, a highly subjective process. There’s no way to truly rank 100 albums hierarchically. But what I tried to do was quickly weigh each album against several criteria, and say, “Based on those criteria, do I enjoy this album more or less than the last on the list?” I did that 100 times, and here we are. These are the general criteria I put into effect:

– Determine whether the record stands the test of time. Certain albums I loved in high school and my first year or two in college, for example,  aren’t even on my radar anymore, whereas others I could (and in many cases, do) listen to on a daily basis and never tire of them. Some of the records on this list, once considered great, sound a bit dated, and sometimes this interferes with my enjoyment of the album to varying degrees.

– Determine whether the album elicits a visceral, emotional response, and to what degree. Those albums exist which are universally known amongst music critics and music fans to be “great” (the same way there are those universally known to be total shit), but I tried to ignore all outside influence and think about the emotional or instinctual impact each album has or has had on me. It’s impossible, of course, to rule out cases of sentimentality (some of these records are tied to very specific moments in time, events in my life, etc., and maybe I like them a little more than I should, or would otherwise), but I tried to consider what effect the album has on 25-year-old, December-2009-in-Denver-Colorado-Patrick.

Also, I’m sure there are tons of albums I missed, and I completely welcome your comments that go, “What? So-and-so is nowhere to be found? You, sir, are a joke! Consider our friendship expired!” But these are the ones that, forever reason, I connected with, spent time with, the ones that warranted repeat listens, etc. I make no case for this being a definitive or complete list of the music of the twenty-oughts. As my friend Crawford Philleo (of Hot Congress fame and glory) put it in opening his list, “I think it’d be a good thing to come back in five years and have another stab at it… this one’s already fraught with disaster.” It’s unlikely I’ll actually do that, but it’s possible this could all change with age and wisdom. What I’m doing is freezing it all in time right now.

– I allowed duplicates. For example, there are four Walkmen albums on the list, because I just like The Walkmen that much. Also, I tend to dig up a band’s full discography (or at least more than a couple records) if I really like them, and spend some time with each of them. When compiling his list, Crawford didn’t allow duplicates (except in a couple cases), but I thought I’d do this completely up-front. If I like three albums by one band more than I like one album by another band, so be it. That’s the truth, that’s reflected in my listening habits, so it may as well be reflected in my list.

Also, one interesting trend I noticed (hooray for statistics!): the year most represented on my list is 2001, when I was a junior in high school. However, very few records from that early in the decade trickled into my top 10, whereas there are two albums from 2008 in the top 10. I think this says something interesting about the way music ages, my visceral vs. sentimental relationship to certain albums, etc.

Another note: I stole Crawford’s format, except I bolded the name of the album instead of the name of the artist, since the album is what I’m evaluating in each case. Take that, Crawford! Your Technique +1! Also, in case you’re not used to these sorts of things, the name of the album is followed with the release year and the label on which it was released.

Anyway, enough preamble. Pre-ramble. Here’s the list, but upside-down and with its head cut off; I’m going to post numbers 10 through 1 with write-ups justifying the position of each in the next few days, culminating, hopefully (if I can get my shit together) on New Years Eve. Then? Then I can start taking mental notes for my Top Ten Albums 2010-2019 list, which I’ll be compiling when I’m 35. O terrible future!

If you have some kind of sick desire to keep up with my listening habits, I have a fascinating and beautiful last.fm page. Add me! Send me music! Marvel at the several thousand times I’ve listened to The Cocteau Twins!

Anyway: to the list!

100. The Albacore Pageant – The Lung Chinese Grocery Co. (2001, Breakfast Anytime)
99. Poulain – For Passengers EP (2003, Fiddler)
98. The xx – The xx (2009, XL)
97. Chequerboard – Penny Black (2008, RMG Digital)
96. Sunday’s Best – The Californian (2002, Polyvinyl)
95. My Morning Jacket – Z (2005, ATO)
94. The Stratford 4 – Love & Distortion (2003, Jet Set)
93. Burning Airlines – Identikit (2001, DeSoto)
92. I Am Robot and Proud – Grace Days (2003, Catmobile)
91. Passion Pit – Chunk of Change EP (2008, Columbia/Frenchkiss)
90. Unwed Sailor – The Faithful Anchor (2001, Burnt Toast Vinyl)
89. Silversun Pickups – Carnavas (2006, Dangerbird)
88. This Will Destroy You – Young Mountain EP (2006, Magic Bullet)
87. The Dismemberment Plan – Change (2001, DeSoto)
86. Boards of Canada – Geogaddi (2002, Warp)
85. mono – One Step More and You Die (2002, Arena Rock)
84. 光田康典 & Millennial Fair – Creid (2001, JMS)
83. Radiohead – Kid A (2000, Parlophone/Capitol)
82. Tristeza – Dream Signals in Full Circles (2000, Tiger Style)
81. Pinback – Blue Screen Life (2001, Ace Fu)
80. Caspian – The Four Trees (2006, Dopamine)
79. Bright Eyes – Lifted or The Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground (2002, Saddle Creek)
78. The Sea and Cake – Car Alarm (2008, Thrill Jockey)
77. I Am Robot and Proud – The Electricity in Your House Wants to Sing (2006, Darla)
76. The Appleseed Cast – Two Conversations (2003, Tiger Style)
75. Beach House – Devotion (2008, Carpark)
74. Be Your Own Pet – Be Your Own Pet (2006, XL)
73. Asobi Seksu – Citrus (2006, Friendly Fire)
72. Rilo Kiley – More Adventurous (2004, Brute/Beaute)
71. Tokyo Police Club – Elephant Shell (2008, Saddle Creek)
70. The Radio Dept. – Lesser Matters (2003, Labrador)
69. Ryan Adams – Love is Hell (2004, Lost Highway)
68. Airiel – The Battle of Sealand (2007, Highwheel)
67. The Avalanches – Since I Left You (2000, Modular)
66. Camera Obscura – Let’s Get Out of This Country (2006, Merge)
65. Rilo Kiley – The Execution of All Things (2002, Saddle Creek)
64. Modest Mouse – The Moon & Antarctica (2000, Epic)
63. Feist – Let It Die (2005, Interscope)
62. Marnie Stern – This Is It and I Am It and You Are It and So Is That and He Is It and She Is It and It Is It and That Is That (2008, Kill Rock Stars)
61. Mice Parade – Bem-Vinda Vontade (2005, FatCat)
60. World’s End Girlfriend – Farewell Kingdom (2001, Noble)
59. Stars – Set Yourself on Fire (2005, Arts & Crafts)
58. Gospel Gossip – Dreamland EP (2009, Guilt Ridden Pop)
57. Yann Tiersen – Amelie (soundtrack) (2001, Virgin)
56. The Velvet Teen – Elysium (2004, Slowdance)
55. Jon Brion (et al.) – Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (soundtrack) (2004, Hollywood)
54. Various Artists – Lost in Translation (soundtrack) (2003, Emperor Norton)
53. Joanna Newsom – The Milk-Eyed Mender (2004, Drag City)
52. Godspeed You! Black Emperor – Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven (2000, Constellation/Kranky)
51. John Vanderslice – Cellar Door (2004, Barsuk)
50. Neko Case & Her Boyfriends – Furnace Room Lullaby (2000, Mint/Bloodshot)
49. The Strokes – Is This It? (2001, RCA)
48. The Walkmen – “Pussy Cats” Starring The Walkmen (2006, Record Collection)
47. eastern youth – 感受性応答セヨ (2001, Five One Inc.)
46. Candy Claws – In the Dream of the Sea Life (2008, Wave Magic)
45. Panda Bear – Person Pitch (2007, Paw Tracks)
44. Jets to Brazil – Perfecting Loneliness (2002, Jade Tree)
43. John Vanderlice – Pixel Revolt (2005, Barsuk)
42. The Stills – Logic Will Break Your Heart (2003, Vice)
41. The Walkmen – Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone (2002, Startime)
40. Friends For Heroes – Years in a Costume (2003, Blackhouse)
39. Do Make Say Think – & Yet & Yet (2002, Constellation)
38. The Grace Period – Dynasty (2001, Audio Dregs)
37. Broken Social Scene – Bee Hives (2004, Arts & Crafts)
36. The Album Leaf – Seal Beach EP (2003, Acuarela)
35. Margot & the Nuclear So and So’s – Dust of Retreat (2006, Standard Recording Company)
34. The Walkmen – Bows + Arrows (2004, Record Collection)
33. Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago (2008, Jagjaguwar)
32. The Appleseed Cast – Sagarmatha (2009, The Militia Group)
31. Japancakes – Waking Hours (2004, WARM)
30. Neko Case – Middle Cyclone (2009, ANTI-)
29. Do Make Say Think – Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn (2003, Constellation)
28. Candy Claws – Two Airships / Exploder Falls (2008, Pepper Mill)
27. Japancakes – The Sleepy Strange (2001, Kindercore)
26. The Album Leaf – One Day I’ll Be On Time (2001, Tigerstyle)
25. Idlewild – The Remote Part (2002, Parlophone)
24. The Weakerthans – Left and Leaving (2000, G7 Welcoming Committee)
23. TV on the Radio – Dear Science (2008, Interscope)
22. Broken Social Scene – You Forgot It in People (2002, Arts & Crafts)
21. The Thermals – The Body, The Blood, The Machine (2006, Sub Pop)
20. Ides of Space – Sleeping Fractures (2004, Self-Released)
19. eastern youth – 其処カラ何ガ見エルカ (2003, Five One Inc.)
18. Idlewild – 100 Broken Windows (2000, Food)
17. Hey Mercedes – Everynight Fire Works (2001, Vagrant)
16. Broken Social Scene – Broken Social Scene (2005, Arts & Crafts)
15. Animal Collective – Feels (2005, FatCat)
14. Another Blue Door – Haulers (2004, Stinky)
13. WHY? – Alopecia (2008, anticon.)
12. The National – Alligator (2005, Beggars Banquet)
11. The Thermals – More Parts Per Million (2003, Sub Pop)

Numbers 10 through 1 to follow. Thanks for reading my dumb list.

LP #1

Watching The Darjeeling Limited, Emily asked me, “Would you go to India if you had the chance?” I couldn’t say “yes” with enough conviction. That’s Life Philosophy Number One: I would go anywhere if given the chance.

Most Likely I’ll Go My Way

Woke up at 11 from a strange dream about being held prisoner and having to shoot somebody in the heart with a poison-injection gun. It was actually really terrifying, but at least it wasn’t a zombie dream this time. Or at least I don’t think it was.

Today my plan is to walk to the library while listening to Blonde on Blonde, find books about unorthodox US travel (my prime target is Dishwasher, about Pete Jordan, who made it a goal to wash dishes in all 50 states) and some comic books, and then come home and read them. Meeting Mallory at 7:30 for Zombieland (second viewing—it’s that good). Oh, and lots of coffee. That’s my day. The good ones have been flowing lately.

Making vague travel plans in my head. If I load myself with freelance work, I want to see if I can go on a two-week bus trip roughly every two months. A bit of an experiment.

Also, working on a new writing project. More on that soon.

Edit: went to the library, and paid a two-dollar fine on my account for a movie that I kept out late that I realized wasn’t even worth the late fee by the time I finally got around to watching it. Bummer. But now my account is cleared, so I nabbed the aforementioned Dishwasher book, plus the Achewood Great Outdoor Fight collection and a coupla other comics. Good haul today.

Weekend

Today: up early to read Cometbus and Noah Van Sciver comics. Riding around in a car with Amanda when she gets off work. Zombie crawl at 6. Will I be a victim or a zombie? Or both? Then dollar tacos at Mezcal and EAOD’s last show. Pretty good, Saturday. Pretty good.

Also, last night was The Pogues at The Ogden. Highlights: Spider smashing a baking sheet against his head repeatedly and rhythmically—with surprisingly good results—during “Fiesta,” the last song in their double encore.

No band practice tomorrow because Stuart’s in Nebraska for a week. I have no idea what to do on a Sunday without two band practices.

Colfax outtake

The following was cut (by me, for length) from my first blog for The A.V. Club on the topic of the wonders of living on Colfax:

“Let me let you in a little dream of mine: I’ve always wanted to live in one of those charming apartments over a shopfront, maybe directly above, say, The Roslyn Grill. Every day I’d wake up, hungover, to the smell of hobo piss and grease from Great Wall, head downstairs—still in my cowboy PJs!—and have a drink with the quirky regulars at the Roslyn while the place is booming during its breakfast beer rush. After finishing my morning routine—can’t start the day without my newspaper, cup of coffee, and a heaping helping of crack rock—I’d cross the street on a red light against moving traffic, making sure to take my sweet time, and head in to work at the day labor office for some drunken, filthy conversation around the watercooler. My co-workers and I would loiter at McDonald’s on our lunch break, doing some healthy networking in the parking lot. All in a day’s work on Colfax Avenue!

Okay, to be fair, I don’t live right on Colfax. I live a half-block up Pearl, a stone’s throw from Tom’s Diner. Overlooking Colfax itself would be the final frontier. When I moved to Denver from the suburbs after high school, my mom half-warned and half-requested that I didn’t choose a place too close to the ‘Fax. A naïve and obedient teenager, I complied. At first. 6th and Pearl: a respectable neighborhood. Then way out at Colorado Boulevard and Alameda: she couldn’t have been happier about that location. But as time went on, financial restrictions dictated—as they so often do for low-income students in Denver—that I move to progressively cheaper neighborhoods. Next was a studio on 13th and Ogden. You could feel a strong bum-wind blowing down the street, but it was still relatively quiet. Finally, years later when all standards and expecations had been crushed out of me, I made the move: Colfax and Pearl. Right in the belly of the beast.

In all honesty, I love living this way. I’m not going to pretend that I’m impoverished or that I live in a real ghetto. Things aren’t that bad on Colfax. Many of the homeless folks are actually pretty friendly, like the man that slept three nights in a dark corner on my porch, after asking my permission. He just wanted to get out of the rain. And from where I live, it’s a 10-minute bike ride—at most—to any of the more upscale (read: gentrified) neighborhoods around the city. Things aren’t that bad. But they’re shitty enough that what I can say, completely truthfully, is that I don’t live in a bubble. I grew up in a whitewashed, suburban town, where everyone had a car, everyone had money, street crime was virtually nonexistent, and everyone always had enough to eat. That’s not the case in my neighborhood, and I prefer it. I see terrible things happen every day, but it’s a necessary reminder that I’m not above it all.”

These are the lean days

Woke up hungry and extremely broke. Tried to ignore it for a while (watched this strange, great low-budget film called LOL), then decided to bike to Whole Foods to forage for samples. The results of my hunt: one sample-sized bag of Oogie’s popcorn and a ThinkFruit bar from April, some oriental rice snacks from Ashley (whom I was extremely pleased to run into), a slice of pluot as a sample, a little bit of an acai smoothie from Leah and a few fig bars and little cinnamon pecan cookies pilfered from the bulk section. Likely all I’ll eat today.

But I just remembered I have half a 40 of Bud Light in the fridge with my name on it, so things are looking up.

2:12

Feeling good about the band and the new songs and the video, despite our impending lack of a drummer. Feeling good about music as an art form in general. Feeling hopeful about adult life after my talk with Shelby. Feeling good and hopeful about the future of the human race, if Shelby’s any kind of an indication. Feeling good and hopeful about the future of television thanks to Party Down and Parks And Recreation. I am feeling great tonight.

I-91 N

Free wi-fi on a moving bus. Well, I’ll be goddamned. Hello, The Future.

I am on my way to Boston, and Yamori Kota is very good music to get me there. I’m doing the “get introspective whilst staring out the window of a bus and listening to sad ambient music” thing. It suits me well. The sloping green hills outside Middletown, Connecticut look like the wooded bluffs of the Congo, only with fewer gorillas being cut in half by lasers.

This feels like last year, except at least now I’m not homeless. I-91, we have spent some time together.

Philadelphia Day 4

Drunk spelling bee. Made it to the third round this time (last year I missed “aberration,” somehow). The word that killed me tonight: scelerophibia. I spelled it with two Ls. Feel good about it, though. I’ll be back next year, coincidentally (B&C wedding), so I’ll give it a go again; maybe I’ll show up once every year in July and try to win the fifty bucks. Could be a fun tradition.

Trip has been non-stop kicks. Enjoying it very much. I really don’t miss Denver much right now.