21st Century Breakdown: Music of the 2000s, End of Decade Music Review, best albums of the decade
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What happens when a decade comes to an end, and nobody cares? Regrettably, that's the general consensus amongst the Bullz-Eye music staff. "Guys, we need to talk about the decade in music." Their response: "Do we have to?"

It's a fair point, really. Musically speaking, the 2000s -- or the aughts, or whatever the hell you want to call them -- were something that we suffered through, rather than reveled in. There were scores of great albums released during the last 10 years, no question, but despite the incredible technological advances that helped increase music's exposure (iTunes, MySpace, etc.), it actually became harder to find those albums due to the sheer volume of music that was being released on a weekly basis. By the decade's end, musical tastes became so personalized and fragmented that virtually no two people were listening to the same bands. Indeed, a quick glance at the lists of our writers' favorite albums features next to no crossover, which makes sense when you consider that the 2000s didn't have a Nevermind or Appetite for Destruction, that one album that brought everyone together. And without those supernova moments, the 2000s, on the surface, seem directionless, the first decade of the rock era without an identity.

Ah, but identities are for people who need to be told what to remember. History might forget our favorite albums, but we won't. Take a trip with the Bullz-Eye music staff and see where their musical journeys took them. And of course, let us know if we left out that one super awesome killer album that everyone on the planet has to have right this second. Unless it's an emo record, in which case we're not interested. Kidding. Sort of.



21st Century Breakdown: Jim Washington's Best Albums of the 2000s

As I compiled my list of the best music of the decade (a much, much longer list than you see here) one inescapable conclusion reared its shaggy head: the last 10 years pretty much belonged to Jack White.

How many other artists produced five stellar albums in the aughts, not to mention a couple of killer side projects and (that old rock critic standby) incendiary live shows?

No one, that’s who.

So, the best album of the decade really came down to which White Stripes album did you like more, or .

Thankfully there’s no wrong answer. I first became enamored of “Fell in Love With a Girl,” totally fell for “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground,” became quite close to “We Are Going to Be Friends” and spent a lot of time in “Hotel Yorba” and “Little Room.”

On the other hand, had “Seven Nation Army.”

"Seven Nation Army," motherfuckers. How could a song released in 2003 sound like it invented the bass line? Not just that bass line, but the whole concept of bass lines.

So as we , rock lives on into the new century in various forms, from low down and dirty to high and arty to pulsating and poppy, while what was once the cutting-edge hip-hop has devolved into auto-tuned disco synth. No doubt something new will emerge in the next decade to take our minds off it.

Just a few of the runner-ups:

21st Century Breakdown: R. David Smola’s Best Albums of the Decade

21st Century Breakdown: David Medsker's Songs of the 2000s

I used to have a thing about my musical tastes. I so desperately wanted them to be cool, or at the very least be something that only a handful of people were privy to. (I was tempted to say 'hip' instead of 'privy,' but you can't spell 'hipster' without 'hip,' and God knows I'm not hip enough to be a hipster.) My friend Kathi, she has obscenely cool taste in music. I'm surprised she's friends with me, since I surely bring her cool factor down by a good 20 points.

Then a couple of years ago, I realized - ? A great song is a great song, and it doesn't really matter how popular - or unpopular - it is. I can't tell you how freeing that was, and I have a very well-known blogger to thank for it. When she admitted to me in private how much she enjoyed a band at Lollapalooza, only to dismiss them a few days later in her column, I realized that it was completely pointless to pander to hipster elitism. You're being dishonest with yourself, and the hipsters are only going to turn on you in the end, anyway.

So I turned a blind eye to what was a pop song versus what was a "pop" song, as it were, and realizing that there was no distinction between the two made everything soooooo much easier. So here we are in 2009, and as part of our , I have to try to apply this whole revisionist history viewpoint to the entire decade, which is no mean feat, to say the least. It therefore makes sense that assembling one big-ass list of songs will look like the work of someone with multiple personalities, so instead they are cut up into bite-sized lists for easier consumption, with YouTube links for the uninitiated.

"Take Me Out" was the bigger hit, but this song swings like Austin Powers in the jungle. Nice riff on "My Sharona" in the break, too.

Push the button; shake that booty.

What the world needs now, is more hey la, hey la's.

Suck it, Pitchfork. These guys are good. You're just too far up your own asses to admit it.

The only sad thing about this song is that Joey Ramone didn't live long enough to hear it.

I love the way these guys riff on Duran Duran lyrics, and then act as if they made it all up themselves. As the old adage says, talent borrows, but genius steals. And for the record, we don't care for sand, either.

Best drunken barroom chorus since "Tubthumping."

For all the progress that was made this decade in terms of hip hop and black culture becoming more accepted on pop radio, it appears that the gays still have a long road ahead of them. Pity.

They their set at Lollapalooza with this. The only other band to grab me by the throat like that with their opening song is, well, My #1...

September 11, 2006, Columbus, Ohio. Muse opens their set with this song, blows the roof off the place.

Proof that even the most alt of alt rockers love Kylie: The Flaming Lips covered this song.

They did a great job recreating the Elton John sound. Too bad they didn't have Bernie Taupin write the lyrics. Fried chicken? Ugh.

I watched this song take one of those sports bars that has basketball courts and bowling alleys, and turn every one of its patrons into dancing fools.

Dogged by some for its similarity to U2, but when was the last time U2 wrote something this bouncy?

I'll shut up, Katie, but there's no way I'm letting you go.

It took two Grammy wins for this song to finally crack the Top 40. (*shakes head in disbelief*)

Andre 3000 finally picks up a guitar to write a song, and this, THIS, is the first thing that comes out. Mother, fucker.

When my mom comes home from a trip to see my brother on the east coast and tells me about a song she heard by a band whose name is similar to some celebrity or other, I know that said celebrity knockoff band has struck a chord.

"You crazy for this one, Rick!" Actually, Jay-Z, you have it the other way around. You crazy if you make this song with anyone than Rick Rubin.

It was at least a year before I made the effort to find out what the hubub was about this damn "Umbrella" song. And then I heard it. Holy shit, this song pisses genius.

No guy wants to hear his ex tell the world what a lousy lover he is, but is there a man alive that doesn't want a shot at Lily Allen?

My favorite new musical expression of the decade: skyscraper, used to describe a song with soaring melodies. And this puppy's the Empire State Building.

That this album didn't even see the light of day in the States shows just how myopic our views of pop music have become.

Keytar!

Come on, bang that head in the chorus. You know you want to.

B-b-b-baby, this song is c-c-c-crazy catchy.

Another song I thought had a shot at cracking the US charts. Funky verses, slammin' choruses, what's not to love? Robbie Williams, apparently. He never gained the traction here that other UK singers did. Strange.

Of course, you probably have heard most of these songs, but I didn't have another category to place them in, so they're going here instead.

Easily the band's best song since "Ordinary World" and "Come Undone." Anyone who likes but has since given up on the band, go listen to this at once.

Los Angeles' resident mad genius of pop finally gets his 1997 album released in early 2001. Power pop fans proceed to lose their minds. And can you blame them? Listen to that drum track. It's like the piano solo to "In My Life," gone drum 'n bass.

If the video I linked to is any indicator, this was a big hit with the Japanese karaoke crowd. Go figure.

Where an otherwise straightforward pop band goes off the deep end into delicious, melancholy strangeness. One of my bigger interview thrills was getting to tell Dan Wilson how much I loved this song.

Catherine Wheel singer turns down the distortion, ramps up the harmonies. Again, the word 'skyscraper' comes to mind.

Dan Wilson reference #2: he sings backing vocals on this shockingly good Todd Rundgren cover. People have scoffed at the notion of Ryan Adams marrying someone like Mandy. Not me.

Let it not be said that nothing good came from "Elizabethtown," as it introduced me to this beautifully spacey song.

Truly a band out of time, which is exactly why I love them. I wonder if the reason A-ha is breaking up is because they heard this song and thought, "Damn, they do us better than we do."

Most bands that take 11 years between albums come back as a pale imitation of their former selves, but the Gin Blossoms' 2006 album was a damn fine little record. This one appeals to my not-so-inner Beatlemaniac.

This Estonian princess is an odd little bird, but that's what I like about her. This ballad closes her debut album with quite the quiet storm.

Another band whose lack of success has me scratching my head. It's the best dance album Peter Murphy never made, or the best rock album Daft Punk never made, one of the two. Or both.

Divine Comedy, Noisettes, Pet Shop Boys, Doves, Rialto, Beck, White Stripes, Rufus Wainwright, Kenna, Mylo, Pete Yorn, Apples in Stereo, Hard-Fi, The Thorns, Rock Kills Kid, The Hours, Derek Webb, Glen Hansard, Aimee Mann, Kirsty MacColl, Gorillaz, Air, Charlotte Sometimes, Mika, Def Leppard, Coldplay, Chicane, Elastica, XTC, and about 50 others.

21st Century Breakdown: David Medsker's Top 10 Albums from the 2000s That You Never Heard

21st Century Breakdown: James B. Eldred's Top 10 Albums of the Decade

Oy, this decade was a mess. The '90s were easy. Rock had grunge, hip-hop had gangsta rap and a genre-defining electronic album seemed to come out every week thanks to artists like Aphex Twin, the Prodigy and the Orb (just to name a few). There was no Zeitgeist-turning moment in music this decade, no Next Big Thing. Instead, we saw mainstream rock dissolve into a post-grunge funk from which it might never recover, while pop music infiltrated rap music in insulting and embarrassing ways (thanks, Auto-Tune). Meanwhile, both the punk rock kids and hippies discovered electronic music, giving Pitchfork whole new genres of music to build up and tear down.

We're more fragmented then ever - case in point: of all the albums selected by the writers who've contributed to our , only one album has been selected twice - which means that there's something out there for anyone, but nothing for everyone. It sucks if you like the idea of a rock band being bigger than Jesus, especially if you don't want that band to be U2. But if you like the idea that at any given moment there's probably an album being released that will appeal to just you a few thousand other people, then this is a great time to be alive. However, that also means the chances of finding something truly “original” are next to nil. We're getting to a point where it feels like everything has been done, and everyone is just paying homage, making pastiche or ripping off something that came before.

That being said, there were still a few original albums to make their way to my ears this decade, and almost all of them ended up being my favorites. So while you say this is my “best of” list for the decade, you could also call it my “most original” list as well.

Canadian indie rock seemed to be the scene of the '00s, and while it gave us some good music, most of it bored me. It was just so damn pleasant. And Fucked Up is a lot of things, but pleasant isn't one of them. In fact, almost everything about them, from their R-rated name to the abrasive vocals of their lead singer (who goes by the name Pink Eyes) almost dares you not to like them. I sure as hell didn't at first; it seemed like they were trying too hard to be “outrageous.” But when they give you a song as brilliant as “Son the Father” with its goosebump-inducing riff and the best lyric of the decade (“”), it's impossible not to take notice. This is hardcore punk's and will probably be just as influential in the years to come.

Okay, so not all of the indie-rock from Canada bored me. I didn't want to like Arcade Fire, I didn't want to fall for their melancholy lyrics and haunting melodies, and I didn't want to be put under enchantment by the haunting closing track “In The Backseat.” It just kind of happened that way. Damn Canadians and their near-perfect records.

An as-yet-unheard masterpiece, although there is some hope still since it only came out this year. Teufelswerk picks up where left off, taking the listener on a journey across two discs that include ambient, house, electro and just about everything else in between. Not made entirely for the dance floor, it's the kind of electronic album that should have mainstream appeal, even with its 13-minute tracks and bizarre guest appearance roster of Bryan Ferry and Diddy. If you consider yourself a fan of electronic music and you don't have this album, you're doing it wrong.

It came out in 2000, and nearly 10 years later there's still nothing that sounds remotely like it. It's usually pegged as an emo record, (the first time I heard the word "emo" was in regards to this record) but modern emo has little in common with this masterpiece of tempo changes, passionate vocals and adrenaline-fueled insanity. Too bad the band couldn't survive much past the album's release, and the two offshoots they formed after the break-up, the Mars Volta and Sparta, have come close to even matching this record in the years that have followed. Of course, almost no one else has, either.

“This chick is kinda nuts,” said my editor when he pitched this CD to me. I'm naturally attracted to insane women, so that's partially why I took a shine to Stern so quickly, but it mostly had to do with the fact that I've heard nothing like her before. She's some heavenly combination of Van Halen and Sleater-Kinney, taking guitar virtuosity and mixing it with riot grrl passion to create an entirely one-of-a-kind sound in the process. She's her own beast, creating her own genre which should just be called “holy shit music,” because that's all I can think to myself when I hear her.

Indie hip-hop may be easy to find now, but in 2000 there was no scene for that, at least there wasn't in my consciousness. I still don't remember how I found this record, which is a crazy concept album about an intergalactic rap battle in the year 3030, but I remember being pleasantly surprised when a year later everyone involved on it (Del Tha Funkee Homosapien, DJ Kid Koala, Dan the Automator and Damon Albarn) went on to form Gorillaz. But this album is still better than anything those animated monkeys put out. It isn't only the best hip-hop album of the decade, but the most original as well.

Prog-rock and heavy metal, two great tastes that taste great together, especially when used to create a concept album based on "Moby Dick." Mastodon's early albums showed promise, but this seafaring epic really sealed the deal and heralded their arrival as “the” metal band in 2004. It was also the first album to show me that popular metal was finally getting past that nu-metal BS that nearly ruined the genre at the turn of the millennium. There needs to be more metal based on classic American novels. I'm waiting for a metal interpretation of “The Age of Innocence.”

The biggest 180 of the decade. Sounding nothing like their previous records, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs didn't go dance-punk for their third LP, they went full-on dance – like a rocking version of Kylie Minogue. You're not going to hear a better dance track this year than “Zero,” unless you count all the other up-tempo numbers on this flawless record.

Oh yeah, and their first album wasn't half bad, either.

The poster band and the poster album for the for the poster genre (post-punk revival) that was supposed to become the Next Big Thing. And while that didn't really happen, we still got some really good records out of it, this one still being the best. And even if you didn't like it, you have to admit that it probably got a bunch of kids listening to the Stooges for the first time. And the UK version (see photo) had the best album cover of the decade as well.

21st Century Breakdown: Overl00ked: James Eldred's List of the Best Music of the 2000s That You Never Heard

21st Century Breakdown: Greg M. Schwartz's Top 10 Albums of the 2000s

It's been a decade of strange contradiction for the music industry. The historic decline of sales might suggest to some that rock 'n' roll is waning – the demise of Tower Records could even be viewed as a sign of an impending global apocalypse. But there's a somewhat hidden story of the 2000s, which is that it's been a fabulous decade for live music. While the RIAA cried that the sky was falling, a new wave of improvisational rock bands made a steady living by touring the country with exciting live shows that differed every night. These bands won die-hard core followings of music fans in search of peak experiences not offered by one-hit wonders and paint-by-numbers performers. Following a path blazed by the Grateful Dead and then Phish, a whole new movement blossomed into a thriving scene that made the 2000s the decade of the jam band.

Phish kicked the new decade/century/millennium off in maximum style by throwing down the most epic performance in rock history with their 12/31/99 New Year's Eve show at the Big Cypress Seminole Indian Reservation in the Everglades before 80,000 revelers (the largest ticketed millennium party on the planet.) After having played a three-set show on December 30 and an afternoon set on the 31st, the band returned to the stage at midnight and played until past the dawn, delivering a monumental seven-hour plus set with no breaks. Phish would go on to have their ups and downs in the decade (a hiatus in 2001-02, a stunning “permanent” breakup in 2004, a triumphant return in 2009), but the jam band scene grew to the point where it could flourish without an arena-level entity like Phish to lead the way. There are a slew of great bands touring clubs, auditoriums and theaters year-round now, keeping alive a counterculture music scene birthed in the '60s but evolving in fresh, exciting ways in the 21st century. These bands rarely make classic albums, because the songs don't fully evolve until they're worked out on the road. But for many fans, the live experience delivered by these bands far surpasses anything that passes for “popular” music.

The growth of the jam rock scene also led to the rebirth of the festival movement. The inaugural Bonnaroo Festival in 2002 was built on the template of the big Phish festivals – lots of custom psychedelic scenery, fan-friendly event staff, reasonably priced amenities and remote location to better establish the alternate reality of counterculture utopia. The first Bonnaroo was a jam band Woodstock, featuring nearly all of the top acts from the scene. Bonnaroo kept growing and branched out to include more genres, only to see the Rothbury Festival created in 2008 to rekindle that jam-centric vibe. Lollapalooza was also reborn as a weekend festival, while Austin City Limits flourished and the similarly-scoped Outside Lands Festival was launched in San Francisco. A slew of smaller regional festivals dot the music calendar. The bottom line is that there are more opportunities than ever to see great live music here in the 21st century.

Another secret of the jam band success is that all of of these groups encourage audience recordings and many allow them to be freely available for downloading at Archive.org, a site that is easily the greatest gift the music gods could have bestowed on Earth at this juncture. It's an absolute treasure trove. And conjunction with our , here are my top ten albums of the decade. Stay tuned for my top ten concerts I had the good fortune to witness this past decade, with links to hear the shows where available.

Franti and crew blew everyone away at the 6/15/01 CD release party at the Fillmore in San Francisco with a mix of socially conscious hip-hop, funk, soul and rock that I'd never heard blended together in such a strong way before. This powerful concept album features lamentations for all that's wrong with the world mixed with a cathartic and uplifting vibe about taking the power back. Woody Harrelson guests as a right-wing governor to serve as a foil to Franti's pirate radio station. “Oh My God” and “Rock the Nation” were the post-9/11 songs of the year, presciently released in the summer.

This is one of the rare jam band albums (Widespread Panic's from 1999 is another) where the band's collection of songwriting matches their instrumental prowess. SCI's third studio album saw them shifting from a bluegrass-based sound to more of a rock flavor, yet without abandoning their roots. A socially conscious tone that most larger bands eschew also helped make SCI the unique entity they became. “Black and White” is a funky take on hidden history, while “Rollover” warns of impending Earth changes. “Close Your Eyes” and “Sing a New Song” demonstrate the band's melodic rock talents and instrumental chemistry, as does the hard rocking title track. Nearly all 11 songs became live fan favorites, the true mark of a classic album.

Alternative rock didn't all collapse into rap metal at the turn of the century. Incubus had blown up with 1999's and followed it up with this gem of an album that mixes hard rock with heartfelt vocals, melodic hooks, and some turntable flavor. Vocalist Brandon Boyd scored the only rock radio hit of the decade that mentioned UFOs with “Wish You Were Here,” while the band also demonstrated their versatility with feel-good funk on “Are You In?” and ambient psychedelia on “Aqueous Transmission.” Guitarist Mike Einzeiger is a master of mixing hard rock crunch with psychedelic flair on tunes like “Nice to Know You,” “Circles” and “Warning,” showing that you can be a metal head and a Phish-head too.

The Bay Area trio evolved from mere pop-punkers into one of the most ambitious rock bands on the planet with this concept album that got back to what punk is really supposed to be about – taking issue with authority and commenting on society's ills. “American Idiot” was not only the anthem of the year, it summed up the Bush regime's entire first term. Billy Joe Armstrong's songwriting brought in a majestic Queen flavor, while still retaining punk rock roots for one of the top audience crossover albums of all time. It's too bad more bands don't have the guts to show such ambition. The follow-up, 2009's , is also a most worthy successor that could have made this list as well.

There's been little in hip-hop this decade that combines the Beasties' knack for mixing funky grooves with insightful social commentary. Tunes like “Right Right Now Now,” “All Lifestyles” and “We Got The” deliver an uplifting vibe about bringing the planet together, with slamming beats and psychedelic tricks. The lyrical flavor is a sharp and welcome contrast to the petty rivalries and superficial obsessions that infect hip-hop like a cancer. But tracks like “3 The Hard Way,” “Triple Trouble” and “Hey Fuck You” still flat-out jam with the party vibe that made the Beasties famous, all of which makes this album a mainline into the cultural zeitgeist of the decade. The Beasties know that we want to party and save the planet too, and they dare to dream it possible to do both.

Adams put out a string of great albums throughout the decade, arguably making a case as songwriter of the decade. Rolling Stone may favor 2000's and 2001's , but this double-album opus is Adams' true masterpiece. It caught Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh's ear to such a degree that he not only invited Adams to collaborate, but brought in a number of Adams' tunes into his own repertoire after Adams left the fold. Adams has an amazing knack for tapping into universal emotions that correspond to all levels of love and loss. The depth and variety of emotion he explores on this album is a supreme achievement. “Mockingbirdsing” might be the most heartfelt song of the decade, with “Magnolia Mountain,” “Easy Plateau,” “Let it Ride” and “If I Am a Stranger” close behind.

It's kind of a shame that a younger band didn't put out this album, but thank the music gods that Neil was up to the task of putting out “Let's Impeach the President.” Pearl Jam had taken a disturbing amount of flack for “Bush Leaguer” in 2003, so maybe younger bands were afraid to speak out. But with the Bush regime plunging the planet into utter chaos and ruin, it was imperative that rock 'n' roll have a response. Young recorded this album in a matter of days, and it's utterly brilliant in its urgency and social commentary, all of which takes on renewed relevance here at the end of the decade with Obama escalating the Afghanistan war. This album rocks like a Crazy Horse classic, filled with catchy melodies, grungy guitars, a choir of harmonies and brilliant lyrics. It's a shame on America that it didn't sell better.

Pearl Jam has always been a force to be reckoned with in the live arena, but they started the decade off with a couple of lackluster albums with 2000's and 2002's . So it was most inspiring to hear them come back with an album that rekindled the band's original fire with more up-tempo energy and some instant classic tunes. “World Wide Suicide” was not only one of the most prominent songs of the year, it was an anthem for the entire decade, taking the powers that be to task for their reckless ways that endanger all humanity, yet doing so in the context of one of the catchiest songs the band has ever written. “Severed Hand” is one of the most electrifying guitar workouts the band has ever laid down, and that immediacy bleeds over into other hot tunes like “Life Wasted,” “Big Wave” and the grandeur of “Inside Job.” Eddie Vedder's lyrics are consistently strong throughout, with the birth of his daughter stoking his justifiable anger at the state of the planet.

I didn't have this album as best of the year in 2007, but it really grew on me after witnessing the band's awesome set at San Francisco's Outside Lands Festival in 2008. Trendy consensus ranks 2000's as the band's best album of the decade, but for my money, there's only one song on there (“National Anthem”) that rocks like “Bodysnatchers,” “Weird Fish/Arpeggi” and “Jigsaw Falling into Place,” three songs as good as anything the band has ever produced. There's a power at work here that only continued to build the band's aura as a cultural force to be reckoned with. This was augmented by the band's bold and innovative decision to release the album online with only a digital tip jar to collect donations. This made more than just another big rock album, it made it a true cultural touchstone.

After putting out a merely decent comeback album with a handful of great moments on 2008's , the Black Crowes dug deep into the well for this magnificent double album that re-stakes their claim as one of the best rock 'n' roll bands of their generation. Recorded live at Levon Helm's home studio in Woodstock, NY, there's an immediacy missing from albums of most bands that like to jam like the Crowes do. Chris Robinson is at his soulful best on bluesy southern rockers like “Been a Long Time (Waiting on Love),” “A Train Makes a Lonely Sound” and “Houston Don't Forget About Me,” as well as deep ballads like “Appaloosa” and “Last Place that Love Lives.” Guitarist Rich Robinson leads the band in a dazzling array of musical depth and maturity that runs a gamut of stylistic references, with lyrics from Chris that clearly come from deep in the heart. The disc features a collection of acoustic-oriented winners that are tasty icing on the cake. This is the kind of rare mid-career album that enables a band to really expand their repertoire with quality material.

21st Century Breakdown: The iDecade: Michael Fortes' Ten "Best" Albums of the Aughts

21st Century Breakdown: David Medsker's Top 10 Albums of the Decade

There has been much speculation about the real reason for the dramatic decline in record sales. I am here to give you the answer.

It's my fault.

The first rumblings that all was not well in Musicland began right as my wife and I were planning our big move from Chicago (Rock Records, R.I.P.) to Columbus. I was traveling a lot, either to Ohio to look for houses or for the last few media boondoggles that my wife was invited to. (The trip to Orlando to meet the Atlanta Braves and take BP in the batting cages was the best.) Then I took a consulting gig, flying to Baltimore and back every week. Long story short, this cut greatly into my record shopping time.

In the spring, after we had settled into a house, I walked away from the world of finance and took the Bullz-Eye job. Pretty soon, I didn't have to buy anything anymore. I was awash in a sea of free music. My first act as senior editor was to bring in Will Harris, one of only two people I knew who bought more music than I did. So then he stopped buying music, too.

And that, my friends, is when the shit hit the proverbial fan. My bad.

All kidding aside, I'm having a hard time trying to put the decade in music into words. The '90s were so easy by comparison. There was 1990, one of the worst years for music EVER. (Hammer, Vanilla Ice, Wilson Phillips. End of story.) Then there was grunge, and then industrial (or, if you were an Anglophile like me, this is when you got into Brit pop), and then ska (or Big Beat), and then teen pop. It was pretty easy, really.

The '00s, by comparison, were a complete clustercuss of styles. Punk pop and nu metal ruled the early years. The pop landscape turned into a hip hop free-for-all (and still is to this day). Modern rock suffered a bit of an identity crisis, as stations had to decide between the Evanescence/Linkin Park branch of the tree and the Franz Ferdinand/Yeah Yeah Yeahs branch. Classic rock artists were renamed "heritage" acts - a word that got one hell of a response from Lindsey Buckingham when - and pop songwriting became as faceless and boring as it has ever been. I personally blame Rob Thomas for that last one.

MySpace was huge in getting music into people's hands and promoting up and coming talent. And almost as quickly, people devised ways to register fake hits on their site in order to make them seem more popular than they really were. Recording equipment got really cheap, and believe it or not, that actually made things worse; suddenly everyone was an artist, and the already crowded market was now three times more crowded. Band names, meanwhile, went to complete and utter shit.

And somehow, some way, after sorting through the wreckage - which led me to completely give up on popular music made by anyone not named Madonna - I found some damn fine albums. Some were by old friends, others from newcomers. Most of them, as is my tendency, were British. Here are my ten favorite albums of the decade, the second in our of the wacky aughts. Let's hear your faves of the year in the comment section.

Never in a million years did I think a group like this would appear after the power pop bubble burst in 1997, never mind sell millions of records (in England, anyway). "Sewn" and "Never Be Lonely" are the finest songs Supertramp never wrote. And just when you least expect it, they will completely rock out. Will wrote me before the album even came out in the States and simply said, "You need to hear this right now." Man, how right he was.

Props to staff writer Mike Farley for hipping me to these guys. Many artists received accolades for their AM radio-inspired pop, but for my money, no one did it better than the Silver Seas. I'd bet dollars to donuts that Brian Wilson is trying to buy the rights to "Miss November" right now, the song is such a dead ringer for his glory days with the Beach Boys. The only bad thing I can say about them is that one of our writers did some graphic work for the band, and was never paid for it. It's never too late to make amends, guys.

The tale of how I found this band is pure serendipity. I wrote a piece about Teenage Fanclub, and I get an email from a UK publicist, who says, "Hey, if you like Teenage Fanclub, check out this band that's managed by TFC member Francis MacDonald." Every publicist compares their client to a band that they couldn't hope of duplicating on their best day, so I was understandably skeptical. Watched their video "Wendy," couldn't get the song (or video) out of my head. He sent me the record. And here it is. Gorgeous guitar pop, with a healthy dose of alt.country when the guitarist sings lead. It's a travesty that this album didn't sell better.

Quite possibly the last Event Record. This album sent shockwaves through the industry, outselling all of the bands other albums at a time when punk pop was considered passe and, considering the lackluster performance of the band's previous album, 2000's (which I quite like, for the record), Green Day was very much in a make-or-break scenario. They made, and then they broke. Two monster song suites, a song that Cheap Trick would kill for, and that title track, a surefire candidate for Single of the Decade.

I still get misty thinking about the fact that Kirsty's gone (killed in a boating accident in 2000, right in front of her children), and right after she made one of her best albums. This blend of bone-dry British wit and Cuban rhythms is irresistibly good, not to mention funny. Who else would sing about stalking one of her fans, or having online chats with a guy that works in a porno shop? I still put the one-two punch of "Alegria" and "Us Amazonians" on mix discs to this day.

Man, would I like to have a do-over on this review. This fast became one of the most-played albums around the house, and their live performances at Lollapalooza in 2005 and 2009, well, ask anyone lucky enough to have seen them, and they will tell you that they were awesome with a zillion exclamation points. It is not a coincidence that they are my two-year-old son's favorite band. "This is 'I Predict a Riot'!" Damn right it is.

It would have been very easy for Muse to play it safe on this album, after achieving some breakthrough success with 2003's . Instead, they let it all hang out, ramping up the rock choruses - "No one's gonna taaaaaaake meeeeee aliiiiiiiiive!" - and dabbling in electronic stylings, funk, and Pink Floyd-esque grandeur. This is a hard album to top, and those of you who bought their 2009 album know exactly what I mean.

I remember seeing the five-star review for this in Q Magazine and thinking, "They're nuts." Sure, "Da Funk" was a badass track, but were they really capable of making a five-star album? Hell yes, they were. It served as both a flawless dance album and a great pop record at the same time, and even included prog-esque keytar elements. My single biggest regret of the decade was deciding to go home early the first night of Lolla in 2007 when Daft Punk were the headliners, and missing what people would later tell me was the single greatest live performance they've ever seen in their lives.

Despite the fact that he's scored a dozen major motion pictures and produced a dozen major label artists (Aimee Mann, Rufus Wainwright, Fiona Apple, Keane, even the Crystal Method), Jon Brion remains one of the best kept secrets in music. This is all sorts of wrong. Dude's a pop genius, and this album, which was supposed to be released by Atlantic in 1997 but never saw the light of day until Brion released it himself in 2001, is the proof. The drum track to "I Believe She's Lying," recorded at half speed like the piano solo to "In My Life," is brilliantly low-tech studio wizardry, while "Ruin My Day" explained my feelings for an ex-girlfriend better than I could explain them myself. Jon, you're welcome to record a follow-up album any time now.

It doesn't hurt that they have one of those singers that can make the phone book sound like the sweetest, sexiest thing ever said. (Neko Case, *swoon*) But what separates from the rest of the New Pornographers' outstanding body of work is both its incredible depth of style - Zulu chants, surf drums, wordless choruses, songs modeled after Charles Manson tunes - and the quality of each and every song. Fans of the band are not unlike "Twilight" followers; odds are, you're in Team Carl or Team Dan. was the one album where Carl Newman and Dan Bejar met in the middle, and in the process created their most focused, consistent album to date.

21 Century Breakdown: Mike Farley's Top 10 Albums of the 2000s

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