Welcome to Pitchfork's best of 2006. Today we present our 100 favorite songs of 2006; the top albums come at you tomorrow. Before we get to it, a few disclaimers:
Note the semantic shift: Unlike this list's equivalent in previous years, for 2006 we extended the candidate pool beyond the confines of singledom-- basically any song released or covered in 2006, whether a single or not, was eligible for this list.
To accommodate that shift, we doubled the size: One hundred songs instead of last year's 50 singles.
And! Thanks to the divine grace of internet, you can legally stream nearly every song on our Spotify playlist.
Finally, you might think us crazy for not including a certain ubiquitous Gnarls Barkley song, but enough of us heard it last year to vault it into 2005's singles pantheon; thus, it didn't qualify for 2006.
Enjoy:
100: Burial
"Southern Comfort"
[Hyperdub]
MP3: Burial: "Southern Comfort"
When it comes to tokenism, we could have done much worse. Either I continually underrated dubstep for the past few years or this was the year it finally got good, but Burial's mix of UK garage's skip, dubstep's low-end whump, and a haunted dancehall vibe of frozen rain and isolationist static is the genre's best stuff yet. And though Burial's album contains spookier moments, little of it bumps as hard as this early single. If too much "dancefloor" dubstep sounds like a sparse (or fucking boring) syncopated nothingness, Burial's mournful South London alleyways and highrises are flush with enough eerie sights and sounds to keep us dilettantes happy. --Jess Harvell
99: The Divine Comedy
"A Lady of a Certain Age"
[Parlophone]
MP3: The Divine Comedy: "A Lady of a Certain Age"
Neil Hannon is best when he plays down his typical pomp and focuses on a story, and depending on your socio-economic rung, the story this song tells could be either sad or vindicating. With warmth and incisive wit, Hannon details the loneliness of a late-in-life English aristocrat whose kids are distant, whose dead husband willed the summer home to his French mistress, and who has finally had to give up chasing the sun around the French Riviera and settle into an affordable flat. Was it a fun life? Yeah, but an empty one, too, and it's much too late to change now. --Joe Tangari
98: Chelonis R. Jones
"Deer in the Headlights (Radio Slave Remix)"
[Get Physical]
MP3: Chelonis R. Jones: "Deer in the Headlights (Radio Slave Remix)"
Radio Slave (aka Rekids label proprietor Matt Edwards) had a banner year, turning out two underground club hits ("My Bleep" and "Secret Base") as well as a solid album (as Rekid) and mindbending remixes for M.A.N.D.Y. vs. Booka Shade, Trentemøller, and more. This blinder from January is an overlooked triumph of utter warehouse madness, its siren-like glissandi and dagger-sharp rave stabs carrying its punishing intensity higher and higher in an unremitting build-up. Chelonis R. Jones' soulful vocals become a crossing guard's scary rant as rushing bass and Dopplerized car horns lay waste to the dance floor like it's a six-lane highway, leaving clubbers all but roadkill. --Philip Sherburne
97: Midlake
"Roscoe"
[Bella Union]
MP3: Midlake: "Roscoe"
After the pale fire of their Flaming Lipsy debut failed to set the world alight in 2004, few expected Texan psych-pop conceptualists Midlake to return with a single like "Roscoe"-- a tune that sounds something like a Music From Big Pink outtake if it'd been recorded by Fleetwood Mac on the banks of Walden Pond. Out of step with anything else released in 2006, "Roscoe" fabricated a backwoods world that nobody had quite yet fathomed, conjuring all the dogged integrity those creamy CSN&Y harmonies yearned for. --Stephen Troussé
96: Oxford Collapse
"Please Visit Your National Parks"
[Sub Pop]
MP3: Oxford Collapse: "Please Visit Your National Parks"
Statistically, the debut single from Oxford Collapse's Remember the Night Parties isn't all that impressive: one riff, three nearly-identical verses, and four choruses. But the focus and repetition of "Please Visit Your National Parks" propel the song into a kind of frenetic, suspended animation trance that hasn't been done this well since Cap'n Jazz. Michael Pace's dynamic, Meat Puppets-style guitar playing keeps things at a constant peak as the song careens towards the only conclusion this kind of indie rock knows: a half-minute cooldown outro. Perfect. --Matt LeMay
95: Rihanna
"S.O.S."
[Def Jam]
This squeaky teen diva has the courage to ride the entirety of "Tainted Love". Necromantic sacrilege or pop justice? Well, the Soft Cell hit was already a cover of an old Northern Soul favorite first made famous by Gloria Jones. In other words, this was already a soul floorburner before it became an untouchable 80s synthpop chestnut, so here it comes full circle. Rihanna wears the beat well, cranks up the drama, and has enough fuck-all attitude to pull it off. Somebody tell Ciara to bite "Sex Dwarf" next. --Drew Daniel
94: Scritti Politti
"The Boom Boom Bap"
[Rough Trade]
Scritti Politti kicked off their 2006 comeback with this beautifully understated but addictive hymn to old school hip-hop. It was all the more affecting for frontman Green Gartside's decision to trade his usual Derridean indecision for plaintive plain-speak: In the last verse, he recites the tracklist of the first Run DMC album before concluding, "I love you still… I always will," sighed in a helium falsetto the years haven't withered a bit. --Stephen Troussé
93: The Thermals
"Here's Your Future"
[Sub Pop]
MP3: The Thermals: "Here's Your Future"
Picture Jesus Christ Superstar soundtracked by the Ramones, and you're pretty close to "Here's Your Future", which spins a dystopian fascist nightmare of the future with Christian folklore, while remaining vague and spiteful enough for anyone to rock out to. A church organ starts it off, but Hutch Harris remains as bratty as ever, even if his Bible CliffsNotes spin a distinctly human tale: Noah as fearful, lockstepping grunt ("Oh, Lord, no sir!"), JC as a freaked-out teen ("but Dad, I'm afraaaaaaaayed…" Guitar solo!), and God as deliciously laconic: "Here's your future: It's gonna rain." Who'd have thought God was a master of understatement? I mean, the Bible's a fuckin' thousand pages long. --Jason Crock
92: Mew
"The Zookeeper's Boy"
[Sony BMG]
MP3: Mew: "The Zookeeper's Boy"
Mew really played the angles well here. There's the interwoven, spaghetti instrumental parts for you prog-rockers, the oh-so-gooey chorus for the card-carrying indie pop fan, the classic rock highs and lows-- and best of all, it's wrapped in a chilling Euro other-worldliness that gives it the personality so many monotone indie bands sorely lack. Still, "The Zookeeper's Boy" evades any cross-analysis with its contemporaries, working toward some model of perfection that's completely mindless of current trends. It's a sui generis "Bohemian Rhapsody", full of big words, big sounds, and most memorably, a big heart. --Adam Moerder
91: Escort
"Starlight"
[Escort]
MP3: Escort: "Starlight"
You know, hats off to a track that, in 2006, is proud to be this unabashedly disco. "Starlight" doesn't just open the time capsule, it defrosts cryogenically frozen 70s strings and a vintage four-on-the-floor pulse, only to find them both-- unlike John Travolta-- still attractively thin. The almost catatonic chorus ("Staaaar-light") stays true to classic disco's time-tested formula, but the song has enough clever ideas to soar beyond simple emulation. There's no fat that needs trimming here, no gloating over the 1970s' inferior production technology with digitized bleeps and bloops, just disco for disco's sake, and why not? --Adam Moerder
90: Arctic Monkeys
"A Certain Romance"
[Domino]
I still think they'll regret choosing that bandname in a few years (if they don't already), but give these boys a little fuzz guitar and you won't care what they're called. "There's only music so that there's new ringtones" is such a funny indictment that its place in a larger narrative-- about living in a small town among the chavs-- feels like a bonus. Of course, the Arctic Monkeys place themselves inside this world, but you get the feeling that the bands there could never come up with an arrangement as clever and subtly varied as this one. You get rolling surf drums, crunching riffs, and affable chime in about the space of 30 seconds, and the neo-ska bass and guitar parts are a perfect complement to the proudly working class accents that put it all together. --Joe Tangari
89: Annuals
"Brother"
[Ace Fu]
MP3: Annuals: "Brother"
You've got to wonder about Annuals frontman Adam Baker, a 19-year-old who sounds like he can't stop having ideas long enough to sort through them: The first 110 seconds of "Brother" are all intricacy-- cricket samples, a gentle acoustic guitar, and Baker's multi-tracked vocals creaking over an electronic bed. And then, it explodes, his sextet perpetually cresting on a two-minute crescendo-turned-coda. Guitars crunch, drums march, and he sings, "Now I've grown, bold and lonely/ I should have stayed with dear brother at home." If this is what undergraduate angst from hyper-creative kids sounds like in 2006, it could hardly be better. --Grayson Currin
88: Geiger
"Good Evening (SuperMayer Remix)"
[Firm]
The website Resident Advisor recently said "nothing can redeem [Michael Mayer's "Good Evening" remix]… It's one of the most pompous, overblown pieces of Wagnerian microtrance I've heard in a good while." But I thought that's why it was so awesome! Maybe I'm just a sucker for superoverorchestrated trance (calling this "micro-"anything is a bit, um, wrong). Or maybe, like my French forebears, I'm just way too eager to roll over for German pomp and circumstance. But if one of your main complaints in this era of minimal techno is that dance music just isn't whooshy enough, the dynamic duo of Superpitcher and Michael Mayer should restore your faith. --Jess Harvell
87: Yeah Yeah Yeahs
"Cheated Hearts"
[Interscope]
Truth: I wrote off Show Your Bones at first and not for a very good reason: I didn't like the first single, "Gold Lion". But this follow-up does all the things that great Yeah Yeah Yeahs song do: Ripcord solos from Nick Zinner, a breezy melody that spirals into freakish yelping from Karen O, and sky-bomb crescendos throughout. Nobody locks in and out of momentum like this band when they're flying, and "Cheated Hearts", while never as sticky or grand as "Maps", marks a rare accomplishment in 2006: A top-line, major-label alternative rock band with a hit and a heart. --Sean Fennessey
86: Spank Rock
"Sweet Talk"
[Big Dada]
Spank Rock was 2006's most successful act from a burgeoning hip-hop movement that emerged out of neither traditional rap circles nor high-minded backpacker ciphers. Working alongside fellow Philadelphians Plastic Little and Amanda Blank, he had the album that sold best, and for that, we can give him-- and especially his producer XXXChange-- a whole lot of credit. "Sweet Talk" sums up the equation: Spank Rock's syncopated vocals are but one puzzle-piece in XXXChange's playfully cluttered tapestry, which loops a guitar-lick and a wicked catchy female chant into filthy good times. --Zach Baron
85: Beyoncé
"Ring the Alarm"
[Sony]
So many questions! Why does the other girl get everything Beyoncé owns if Beyoncé lets this guy go? Did she not sign a pre-nup? (Is she secretly married?) If the other girl's rocking of chinchilla coats and VVS stones hinges on Beyoncé's letting him go, why doesn't she just, you know, not let him go? And why would anyone cheat on someone as hot and awesome as Beyoncé to begin with? Is it 'cause she goes a little crazy sometimes? --Amy Phillips
84: Boris
"Farewell"
[Southern Lord]
MP3: Boris: "Farewell"
The heavy shoegaze anomaly on an otherwise hard-charging metal record, "Farewell" opened Pink and closed out Boris' live shows. It was from the gossamer calm of this song, one sensed, that Boris got in the mood to be Boris. The wind-tunnel vocals and deferential cymbal crashes, the single sustained chords and drawn-out three-note runs; this was the gradually building sound of a band settling into their headspace and preparing to lay waste. It felt like either a demonstration of their private dynamic or the slow application of their public face: Either way, it was one of the heaviest metal tracks of the year that couldn't rightly be termed "metal" at all. --Zach Baron
83: Cansei de Ser Sexy
"Alala"
[Sub Pop]
MP3: Cansei de Ser Sexy: "Alala"
Mediocre musicians, shitty dressers, all the glamour of a sweat stain: CSS have a lot going against them. But "Alala" was CSS at their over-the-shoulder ash-flick coolest, so nonchalant even while begging; implying filthy things ("I wanna be that dirtyfinger") without saying them ("alala"). Brazil's sleaziest export is all about image, so it's funny that their best song is about not measuring up. "You're so cool/ Can I be your friend?" asks Lovefoxxx coyly, over smarting, jagged keyboard lines. It's hard to know who she's submitting to, but the synth grinding away in the foreground elicits satisfied groans, like it's her own music sending her over the edge. Call it narcissism or harmless self-love-- it makes a great single. --Jessica Suarez
82: Kris Menace Presents Stars on 33
"I Feel Music in Your Heart (Lifelike and Kris Menace Remix)"
[Vulture]
MP3: Kris Menace Presents Stars on 33: "I Feel Music in Your Heart (Lifelike and Kris Menace Remix)"
Nothing like a shot of Xanadu neon to wake you up. "I Feel Music in Your Heart" evokes unabashed disco fashions and a dumbstruck reverence for love, the topic on which house music wrote its thesis. 2006 wasn't exactly the year to get nostalgic for rollerskate angels in short shorts, but lest you doubt the power of rose-colored disco, behold Lifelike and Kris Menace's take on it. The beat is pumped up like the gushing hearts so apparently full of music, but the real Stars are the layered vocals teasing their message in harmony: "I feel music in… I feel music in…" Glittery and fantastic. --Dominique Leone
81: My Robot Friend [ft. Antony]
"One More Try"
[Soma]
I'm testing a theory that it's impossible to be genuinely upset about anything while this song is playing. Something about the unflinching 808 beat and surgically clean synthesizers seem to ask, "Is it really that big a deal?" Of course, a disarmingly fun and sassy vocal performance from Antony-- a guy who managed to eke self-aware humor out of a song called "Hitler in My Heart"-- doesn't hurt. "One More Try" embraces its own superficiality with restraint and simplicity, and in doing so becomes a powerful prophylactic against all things anguished and complicated. --Matt LeMay
80: Nelly Furtado [ft. Timbaland]
"Promiscuous"
[Geffen]
Prior to hooking up with the new and improved Timbaland, Nelly Furtado's music was working as the muzak in granola coffee bars all across American college campuses. But with tracks like "Promiscuous" selling cellphones and making kids scream her name on "TRL", Nelly officially joined the world of pop. Here, she reclines atop Timbo's bed of pop-and-lock synths like a laconic Debbie Harry, waiting for the right man to figure out what she's thinking. She acquits herself nicely, trading lines with Mr. Mosely, but it's those coy "la la la"s at the end of the track that speak volumes. --David Raposa
79: Cam'ron
"Weekend Girl"
[mixtapes]
Let's face it, this wasn't a banner year for Cam. Wayne showed him up on his own jam. His movie made State Property look like The Godfather. His album tripped on an overabundance of ostentatious fanfare, making fans long for the days when his default was breezy, not brutish. Then he was oddly quiet for months, except for this carefree come-on that laid on that Purple Haze charm thick. Peppered with smooth uptown nostalgia and downtown creeping, "Weekend Girl" was the gangster-Gestapo antidote we wanted to hear. No forced pomp, just a quaint, rhetorical question: "What you doin' this weekend?" --Ryan Dombal
78: Be Your Own Pet
"Adventure"
[Ecstatic Peace/Universal]
MP3: Be Your Own Pet: "Adventure"
Even if every review hadn't already told you that Be Your Own Pet are teenagers, you probably would've figured it out from this song. Maybe not from the wide-open sprawl of the rhythm section, or the elegant swoops of guitar, or the captivating vocals-- all of which sound like the work of people who know what they're doing and have been at it for a while. No, you'd have figured it out from the way this track leaps around ecstatically and talks big ("We're, like, adventurers! We've been to every place, anywhere in the world!") with enough energy to leave even tired old jerks like me enthusiastic about the epic possibilities of, like, life and stuff. --Nitsuh Abebe
77: Jamie Lidell
"Multiply (In a Minor Key)"
[Warp]
MP3: Jamie Lidell: "Multiply (In a Minor Key)"
Where Jamie Lidell's live sets are feats of technological prowess that find him singing, beatboxing, and sampling his way from climax to climax in real time, this duet with his frequent tourmate Gonzalez is a more controlled affair. Stripping down the arrangement to boogie-woogie piano vamps and vocal acrobatics, this is far more intimate than the original version, even while Lidell's voice is multiplied into pinwheeling, layered harmonies. Gonzalez mirrors the vocal fireworks with bright rolls and tone clusters as an imaginary crowd murmurs approvingly beneath it all. For all the melancholy of the title and lyrics, you'd be hard-pressed to find a more celebratory song. Coming unglued never sounded so good. --Philip Sherburne
76: Cham [ft. Akon]
"Ghetto Story (Remix)"
[Atlantic]
The track is almost non-existant: skeletal snare-ticks, gasping, gauzy synths, and lots of empty space. It leaves room for voices and words, and Cham and Akon fill that space enormously. Cham's rangy hyena yowl couldn't be further from Akon's shivering autotuned tenor; they're gravel and silk. And they're both in terse, economical storytelling mode-- Cham recalling a hardscrabble Jamaica childhood, weaving in half-forgotten memories about kids getting shot, and Akon singing about immigration, car theft, and prison. The two stories never intersect, but the way both singers' voices work together makes it an all-encompassing tapestry of violence-- City of God in song. --Tom Briehan
75: The Killers
"When You Were Young"
[Island]
MP3: The Killers: "When You Were Young"
After all this time, sincerity remains the Bossman's calling card, which is why some found this Bruce tribute from upwardly mobile Vegas con men so troubling. Epic, romantic rock may have been invented some time in the early 1970s but now it's a form like any other, a costume that can be pulled from the rack when you want to try a new number. And Killers fit their suits well on this explosion of rock grandeur and pomposity. Once upon a time this kind of stuff just wafted out of radios and you didn't know who'd made it or what they stood for; all we were left with was a song and a hook, and a phrase like "when you were young" rang true even if you were 10 years old. --Mark Richardson
74: The Pipettes
"Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me"
[Memphis Industries]
When the Pipettes broke on the internet with this song, their YouTubed concert video introduced the three members: the sassy librarian, the one who sings pretty, and the one who waves her arms. The stomping hook and frothy Technicolor chorus put the band squarely on the map, and it also helped kick off a Shangri-La's renaissance-- partly because these three made their forebears' lyrics seem like Shakespeare by comparison. But even if the verses are more brush-off than tragedy, the declaration of the title is stadium-sized. We'll always be suckers for big hooks and polka-dot dresses. --Chris Dahlen
73: Poni Hoax
"Budapest"
[Tigersushi]
Drone disco-- like black mascara on club queens you wouldn't let blow you for all the coke in NYC-- isn't for the faint of fashion. French people don't bat an eyelash, of course-- they were goth-chic before goth was. But for the rest of us, "Budapest" makes a great excuse to get dark and ready to go out. If the vocals make you feel queasy, maybe imagine them coming from your roommate's girlfriend. The one you're trying to steal. And if the track's lo-fi-ish production doesn't grab you, focus on the dreamy chord progression. The one ripped from Can. --Dominique Leone
72: Built to Spill
"Goin' Against Your Mind"
[Warner Bros.]
It'd been a five-year dry season for Built to Spill fans, and an even longer drought for those still wishing for a pure throwback to the wide-scale guitar mantras of Perfect From Now On. For those listeners, the nine-minute "Goin' Against Your Mind" provides a welcome and long-overdue deluge, encapsulating the group's diverse strengths so deftly that, at first glimpse, it seemed almost like a mirage on a desert horizon. Driven by Scott Plouf's unyielding backbeat, this typically wry saga of inner confusion is at its best when Doug Martsch drops his UFOs-as-God whispers and lets the guitars do the heavy thinking. Packed tight with overlapping riffs and melodies, this track is likely to stand as one of Built to Spill's definitive creations, and is undiminished by the fact that little else on You in Reverse is quite able to match its heights. --Matthew Murphy
71: Candi Staton
"His Hands"
[Astralwerks]
Manhandling is the central motif of Candi Staton's recorded output-- as well as much of her adult life. It's hard not to see "His Hands" as the epitome of that strain. Her preacher's-son husband mistreated her before she became a star, and this song's main character is equally beholden to both an abusive mortal patriarch and an erotic male God. Southern men wrote and produced Staton's music decades ago (even forcing her to do multiple takes to irritate her throat, in pursuit of her famous wise-victim rasp) and for this 2006 gem she had a Lambchopper manning the boards and Will Oldham penning the lyrics. The mournful sex-gospel of "His Hands" compensated, in the pop culture karmasphere, for Peter Jackson's sentimental fumbling of King Kong : Staton wailed from the viewpoint of woman as a captive possession of a self-loving, barbaric, masculine will-to-power. --William Bowers
70: El Perro del Mar
"God Knows (You Gotta Give to Get)"
[Memphis Industries]
MP3: El Perro del Mar: "God Knows (You Gotta Give to Get)"
Where UK peers the Pipettes update 1960s girl groups' chipper choreographed harmonies, Sweden's El Perro del Mar remembers there were moments when-- well, there were moments when. For all its stiff-lipped self-recriminations, "God Knows (You Gotta Give to Get)" is still the least melancholy song on singer/songwriter Sarah Assbring's sophomore album, and the most painfully affecting. "I've been taking a lot without giving back," she sighs in her half-whisper, and not even big-screen strings, doo-wop backing vocals, and glistening saxophone can comfort her. Sometimes love just isn't spelled L-U-V. --Marc Hogan
69: Oneida
"Up With People"
[Jagjaguwar]
Despite clocking at nearly eight minutes, "Up With People" claims the 2006 Yamatsuka Eye Cup for the year's swiftest free climb. Riding a tangle of tweaked guitars and Kid Millions' frenetic drum patterns, Oneida deliver their sermon ("The highest hills feel the sweetest breeze/ You've got to get up to get free") with such wild-eyed fervor that they sound about a click or two from moving to a yurt in the Himalayas. Near the three-minute mark a gale of distortion threatens to blow the fevered crew hopelessly off course, but they soon scratch their way back into formation with such determination and diligence that you'll grow increasingly convinced to trust their guidance, no matter how thin the oxygen gets. --Matthew Murphy
68: Klaxons
"Gravity's Rainbow"
[Modular]
MP3: Klaxons: "Gravity's Rainbow"
Copping feels from a dozen genres, "Gravity's Rainbow" was scrappy but streamlined powder/pill music for children. Its chorus' first half ("Come with me/ We'll travel to infinity") sounded like something a pegasus might tell its young master without a hint of bestiality. The next lines, though ("I'll always be there/ For you, my future love"), were considerably more earthbound, further softening the hardcore-punk bassline that Jamie Reynolds' falsetto boy-cooing already disarmed. The rave keyboards and rock guitar solo helped sustain the surprise-around-every-corner vibe of this dance track, to which actual dancing was fairly difficult. Even the Klaxons backlash, undoubtedly just over the horizon, promises to be interesting. --William Bowers
67: E-40 [ft. Keak Da Sneak]
"Tell Me When to Go"
[Reprise]
2006 was the year kids jumped out of moving cars for fun. E-40, Ambassador of the Bay, shepherded ghostriders to the promised land with this Lil' Jon-adrenalized version of hyphy's thumping, bleeping club-rap hybrid. "Tell Me When to Go", along with its video, turned thizz-facing, stunna-shading, and dread-shaking into national phenomena and introduced the Bay as one of the most fully realized scenes in music. But the real gift was the wolfish Keak da Sneak, who blew down his guest verse and finished with the brilliantly inane, "Yadadamean, yadada, I'm saying, though." Once familiar with hyphy's sense of commercial subversion, the "dada"'s didn't sound so dumb and E-40 looked like Moses. --Pete Macia
66: Swan Lake
"All Fires"
[Jagjaguwar]
Hip test: Can you avoid the temptation to hold lighters and/or hands during Spencer Krug's luminous refrain? "All fires have to burn alive to live," he sings, his voice, a simple acoustic progression, and a parable about a flood that kills half its kingdom clicking together as indie rock's answer to arena balladry. But "All Fires" is in minor shambles, the product of three excellent songwriters (Krug, Dan Bejar, Carey Mercer) being comfortable enough to let perfection fall apart. --Grayson Currin
65: Liars
"Let's Not Wrestle Mt. Heart Attack"
[Mute]
Despite its pacifistic title, this is a war song; it marches forward with grim resolve, and seems always on the verge of erupting into fantastic violence. But it never does. Instead, its deranged madrigals, cyclical drones, and ceremonial percussion percolate with circumscribed abandon, and the seemingly inevitable brutality looms larger for its latency. You can tell Liars are pushing toward some kind of personal transcendence; you peer through the song's swirling vapors for the ceiling that must be broken through, and then you see it-- it's below your feet; you're already floating. This is what TV on the Radio's music might sound like if lightning-struck and turned to glass. --Brian Howe
64: Prince
"Black Sweat"
[Universal]
It's like he knew that the Jehovah's Witness lite-jazz rubberband was about to snap and so, boom, here it is-- an undeniably stone cold Prince jam with all the trimmings: chorused guitars, lascivious confessions, weird speak/sing breakdown, and the trademark pitched-down snares that pop like chopped-n-screwed champagne corks. A friend from Minneapolis told me that Prince used to ride a specially constructed conveyor belt up to the mic-stand at his Paisley Park club gigs, and people would go berserk when they saw his silent silhouette hovering towards them. If Prince is that cool just standing there doing nothing, he's unstoppable when he makes an effort. Thank god for dirty old men. --Drew Daniel
63: Figurines
"The Wonder"
[Control Group]
Figurines' stateside debut, Skeleton, opens with a piano ballad called "Race You" that, curiously, is the slowest song on the album. But it's all just a deceptive set-up for the second track, "The Wonder", where the Danish indie upstarts leave you flailing in the dust. Over a hyper-tense riff that makes your wrist hurt just listening to it, Figurines fashion an exhilaratingly urgent pop song that seems to be about nothing so much as urgency itself-- frontman Kristian Hjelm is in such a rush to get through the chorus ("It takes time/ To get it together for a long time") that he apparently has no time to find another word that rhymes with "time." --Stuart Berman
62: The Field
"Over the Ice"
[Kompakt]
MP3: The Field: "Over the Ice"
More throb than pound, "Over the Ice" sounds the way a rave does if you close your eyes: dazzling lasers become amorphous pools of color, and sharp sonics devolve into brooding clouds of intensity, still pulsing at the same urgent pace, but somehow kindlier, more nurturing. Like Todd Edwards crafting homages to Steve Reich, the Field's widescreen canvasses of cut-up, strobing, sampled vocals (I suspect from Kate Bush's "Under Ice") blur the lines between the minimal and the symphonic, the purely human and the total machine. But it's their romance more than their vision that wins the day, as they capture a world of desolation in every single half-sigh. --Tim Finney
61: The Mountain Goats
"Woke Up New"
[4AD]
MP3: The Mountain Goats: "Woke Up New"
Maybe you don't need an earth-shattering breakup to get this one; maybe your partner went on a long vacation and you're finding yourself mind-numbingly bored. The soft strumming of "Woke Up New" might sound limp at first listen, but John Darnielle has the storytelling stones to match the soundtrack to his protagonist's mood, laid out in the song's second line: free, lonely, and scared. What follows are rudimentary details and tactfully-deployed similes detailing the First Day After. It's hesitant and almost meandering, but when the chorus comes and Darnielle pleads "What do I do?" over and over in his lilting falsetto, it's less panicked than genuinely puzzled. Few songs chart such a particular emotional state so excruciatingly closely. --Jason Crock
60: Zeigeist
"Tar Heart"
[self-released]
In what must be the promotional coup of the year, some clever soul added an mp3 of this track to an early leak of the Knife's Silent Shout, leading plenty of people to note that, fake Knife or not, it was one of the most immediately thrilling things on the tracklist. Part of it was the addictive familiarity of the chorus, which turns out to be a lot like the vocal from "Running Up That Hill" plus the sequencers from "Bizarre Love Triangle". And part of it was that, like all good borrowers, these Swedes had worked up a dance track as great as its cousins, and with nearly the same combination of melodramatic tension and ecstatic release. --Nitsuh Abebe
59: Nelly Furtado
"Maneater"
[Geffen]
On paper, a synthesis of Hall and Oates' "Maneater", Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl", and PJ Harvey's "Rid of Me" sounds like the worst ironic hipster DJ mix ever. But when filtered through the Nelly and Tim dream factory, those sources come together to form something alluring and dangerous. Unlike the pair's other 2006 smash about overwhelming female sexuality, "Maneater" isn't coy or flirty. It's in your face with its warning: Watch out, boys, she'll chew you up. --Amy Phillips
58: Girl Talk
"Smash Your Head"
[Illegal Art]
MP3: Girl Talk: "Smash Your Head"
It may seem strange to celebrate a DJ mix cut; on Night Ripper, the chapter breaks seem arbitrarily placed amidst Greg Gillis' copyright-flaunting fantasia. But "Smash Your Head" is notable for containing the megamix's finest moment, when the micro-sampling settles down for an entire minute into a classic two-way mashup of "Tiny Dancer" and "Juicy". We're all supposed to be sick of such beat-matched juxtapositions by this point, but the surprising way Elton John's circular piano riff brings out the warmth of Biggie's reminiscences (with World Trade Center line triumphantly intact) is a vivid reminder of the form's ability to thematically reinvent, rather than just demonstrate, point-click skills. --Rob Mitchum
57: Kleerup [ft. Robyn]
"With Every Heartbeat"
[Risky Dazzle]
Let's not pretend this is anything but a Robyn track. Like a good director, Kleerup quietly sets the stage with a subtle sewing-machine beat and sobby strings, then lets his leading lady take the spotlight. Robyn quantifies her heartbreak, reducing it to its smallest element: "It hurts with every step," she sings, "but I don't look back." But it's the coda that kills: "And it hurts with every heartbeat." She sings the line over and over, giving each syllable its own staccato beat. The effect is a sort of breathless internal conflict, as if she's finally freed herself into the big wide world only to find it suffocating. --Stephen M. Deusner
56: Booka Shade
"In White Rooms"
[Get Physical]
MP3: Booka Shade: "In White Rooms"
Booka Shade's 2006 wasn't as thrilling as their 2005, when the duo's "Body Language" was crowned Ibiza's Track of the Season, and their "Mandarine Girl" spawned an entire subgenre based on brightly twirling arpeggios. "In White Rooms" shares that very lineage, with rounded synth leads hopscotching across the song, landing with a neat new fillip every eight or 16 bars. Less immediately recognizable than their previous hits, and backed by a house beat so nakedly functional it might be Shaker, the song fades into a comfortable semi-anonymity when folded into a DJ mix. But that's precisely its paradoxical power, as the hook-- just out of reach of true hummability-- rises up from satiny pads to declare its reign. It's a brief victory, but while it lasts, a total one. --Philip Sherburne
55: The Blow
"Parentheses"
[K]
In addition to being a treat for anyone who's ever wondered what it would sound like if the Shangri-La's had laptops and USB keyboards, "Parentheses" is also Khaela Maricich's best performance since "Hey Boy". Yeah, in other spots her lyrics can feel like watching Me and You and Everyone We Know one too many times, but on this one you get to hear that voice-- always uncomfortably plain and direct, skipping from husky to choirgirl-- offer a curiously reassuring case for human connection. I admit it: Sometimes I just appreciate hearing her say she'll be there for me if I ever break down sobbing at the grocery store. --Nitsuh Abebe
54: Lily Allen
"Smile"
[Regal/Parlophone]
It's not exactly the sparkling commercial-ready pop trifle toothpaste marketing execs were hoping for; Lily's got nice teeth, but they probably need flossing. And that's the angle: ambling exterior, cutting core. Even when succumbing to cliché, she'll go out of her way to flip it just a bit, in lines like "I found a light in the tunnel at the end." Given her sudden stardom, her smile gets even bolder: Revenge in a diary-- or on a MySpace page-- is one thing but revenge from atop the pop charts is another. Feel for the poor sap being kissed-off: He thought he was fucking around on some rich girl who wore silly dresses and sneakers-- and then he got burnt by Lily Allen. --Ryan Dombal
53: Asobi Seksu
"Thursday"
[Friendly Fire]
"Thursday" is lighter than air, opening with a chilly melody that sounds like it was recorded 50 feet down the hall from the door to a skating rink, and then foraying into ethereal pop. In truth, it sounds more like an endless Sunday than a bland workaday Thursday with its pillowy guitars, wispy "aah ah" chorus, and bright, chiming arpeggios. The bass and drums keep it tethered with an insistent rhythm, but even they let go of the ground after a time and just let the whole thing float. I can barely catch a word of the lyrics, but it seems beside the point-- the melody is celestial enough that gluing it to language would only be a distraction. --Joe Tangari
52: Barbara Morgenstern
"The Operator"
[Monika Enterprise]
MP3: Barbara Morgenstern: "The Operator"
Here we have one of the most attractive synth-pop songs from one of the most attractive synth-pop albums of the year, and I should point out that Barbara Morgenstern's vocals are now competing with her production as the most interesting thing about her music. "The Operator" passes by in a whiff-- its double-take verse chords and baroque, midi-sounding drums never miss a beat. It's actually a busy song but never seems so, which is all the more reason to fall for it-- and if this blurb sounds like I have a crush on it, let me correct you: The crush is on the piano+vox B-side remix. --Dominique Leone
51: Scott Walker
"A Lover Loves"
[4AD]
Buoyed by Scott Walker's dark-eyed operatics, The Drift is a harrowing rattle. Stripped of percussion, keyboards, and echoplex, this whispered coda finds Walker handling barely there guitar, slightly crooning: "This is/ A waltz/ For a/ Dodo/ A samba/ For Bambi." It's that, as well as a cornea-damp love song for "A hand/ That is/ Cold/ In another/ Colder." He repeatedly divides sentences and sounds with a whispered tick. If Samuel Beckett turned "Ping" into a frozen ballad, the sentiments might knock like this; but where the nameless Beckett protagonist ostensibly remains trapped, Walker notes that "everything" is "within reach." If only all teen idols turned out this transcendent. --Brandon Stosuy
50: Voxtrot
"Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives"
[Cult Hero/Playlouder]
MP3: Voxtrot: "Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives"
Voxtrot don't sound original by any stretch of the imagination, a fact that the Austin quintet doesn't really seem to have a complex about. Like so many indie pop bands before them, they worship in the chapel of the Smiths, genuflecting at Morrissey's wry offhandedness and Johnny Marr's room-filling effects. But Voxtrot offset this devotion by piling up choruses like a wedding cake, spending enough hook capital for four songs in four minutes. Ramesh Srivastava's wordy delivery, and the crisp tightness of his band, only serve to amplify the frenzy the song works itself into around the second and third choruses, their manners disrupted by a reverb-sopped guitar in the left channel that goes from setting a wet pace at the song's intro to elbowing out the rest of the instruments with a giddy solo-- pure melody rendering novelty unnecessary. --Rob Mitchum
49: The Game
"It's Okay (One Blood)"
[Geffen]
RZA already used the sample of reggae vet Junior Reid screaming at the sky on the Wu-Tang Clan's "One Blood Under W". But here, producer Reefa turns that sample into a host of angels, relentlessly swarming the track with that gravelly moan until it becomes a desperate wordless chant. Accompanied by titanic drums and sweeping strings, the voices steadily help build the song to a diamond-hard operatic banger. It's the perfect way for Game to reintroduce himself as a vengeful lone wolf, spraying anger in all directions after 50 Cent backstabbed him and Dr. Dre abandoned him. Game sounds like rage is eating him from the inside out; he extends olive branches to 50 and Jay-Z before snatching them right back, lashing out against legions of prominent rappers without spelling out the names for us. The video makes the image literal: Game walking through decaying California streets by himself, chin jutted out, chest puffed up, one guy against the world. --Tom Breihan
48: Cassie
"Me & U"
[Bad Boy]
Actress, dancer, and easy-on-the-eyes protégé of Tommy Mottola and Diddy, you might expect Cassie to be just another multitasking, melismatic diva in the tradition of Mariah or Beyoncé. But "Me & U", put together by Ryan Leslie out of not much more than a few bleeps, some synthesised handclaps, and an auto-tuner, features one of the blankest, most holographic vocals since Chet Baker stepped front stage. Hardly hindered by a low-budget video (intended only for the "European audience," according to the label) which left little of the middle eight suggestion-- "Baby, I'll love you all the way down"-- to the imagination, "Me & U" recalled the crypto-emotional coolness of Cameo circa "Single Life", and proved the most refreshingly minimal r&b hit of the year. --Stephen Troussé
47: The Rapture
"Whoo! Alright-Yeah...Uh-Huh"
[Universal]
MP3: The Rapture: "Whoo! Alright-Yeah...Uh-Huh"
Right off the top, everything appears to be just as they left it on 2003's Echoes : 4/4 hi-hat beat? Check. Stacatto guitar riff? Yup. Cowbell? Of course. But eight seconds in, it's "House of Jealous Lovers: Extreme Makeover Edition": The stark funk of the Rapture's 2002 breakout 12-inch has been given a radiant, lipstick-cherry-glossed polish by producer Paul Epworth, while Mattie Safer's effete vocal sounds much less Gang of Four than "Girls on Film". But the title's exclamations are overshadowed by Safer's bummed rap: "People don't dance more/ They just stand there like this." It's a sentiment that felt truer in 1996 than it does in 2006 (maybe he's been hanging out at too many Black Dice shows?), but the back-up rocksteady crew of b-girls responding to his call make Safer's petty complaint feel like a cause still worth rallying around. And just when you think they've run out of breath, Safer asks, "Y'all ready girls?"-- and it turns into a ballroom blitz. --Stuart Berman
46: Liars
"The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack"
[Mute]
Almost every critic who reviewed Liars' third album, Drum's Not Dead, claimed it was a heady concept about two characters named Mt. Heart Attack and Drum. On that map, album closer "The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack" would be the denouement, a careful and conclusive slope that lets plaintive melody surface above vanquished noise. That's not the case, but "The Other Side" is as completely beautiful and resplendent as that suggests: On a record where thrust is the axiom, and dense textures and their dismal moods are its corollaries, this is an eloquent, perfect rebuttal, like the redolent and forgiving closing score for a film busy with urgency and abrasion. --Grayson Currin
45: Beyoncé
"Irreplaceable"
[Sony Urban]
In the January 2007 issue of Vanity Fair, Christopher Hitchens writes a column titled "Why Women Aren't Funny", claiming it's because there are more obstacles for men in the ongoing quest to charm, amuse, and romance the opposite sex; men depend on the art of humor for seduction, and apparently, women aren't. Hitchens clearly doesn't listen to Beyoncé. While "Irreplaceable" has a steely tone and traditionalist themes, it's pretty damn hilarious. Naturally, when the song opens "To the left, to the left" from a diva known for her swiveling, thoughts wander to instructive dancing. On the contrary-- Beyoncé, more restrained than ever, simply put "everything you own in a box to the left." That's funny. Toying with expectation and convention, she's taken what could have been typical and made it smart and droll. Now if only her man could relocate his sense of humor. --Sean Fennessey
44: Arthur Russell
"Springfield (DFA Remix)"
[Audika]
Without Arthur Russell's approach to disco-- reinventing it from the inside out, wielding a single cello line in an elegantly minimalist display of extrapolation-- we almost certainly would not have James Murphy and DFA. It's difficult to imagine either Murphy's sense of rhythm or his sense of space without the generous, introverted productions of the late chamber-disco savant. Murphy's mix strips Russell's already spare original down to the kind of clubfoot thud that once might have anchored a Depeche Mode edit; he proceeds to thread that rickety lattice with winding counterpoints-- voices, stubby Rhodes, perhaps a clarinet?-- and lays tingly synth chords over it all like a protective canopy. The last two minutes are Russell's alone, as he falsettos his way from blossom to blossom, as ghostly as he ever was. --Philip Sherburne
43: Fujiya & Miyagi
"Collarbone"
[Tirk]
MP3: Fujiya & Miyagi: "Collarbone"
If Can had built a career from Ege Bamyasi's pop moments they would have come up with this song eventually, but Fujiya & Miyagi make the wait worthwhile and Damo was never this coherent. For a song so laidback, subtle, and swinging, it sure dominates its environment, almost to the point of bullying. If it comes up on shuffle, it either enhances whatever else you have going on or it shoves it out of the way and demands to be moved to. As weightless and easy to inhabit as anything released this year. --Mark Richardson
42: Ciara
"Promise"
[LaFace]
A defining moment in Ciara's career and an instant theme song for freaks everywhere, this smouldering, space-storm slowburner was the song equivalent of sensual massage, wherein your favorite producer's favorite producer, Polow da Don, fashioned a talkbox and glossy-ass ping-pong beats, and Ciara's dewy-eyed love devotional never seemed to stop. At this moment, the studio was the sexiest place on earth (word to Janet and Aaliyah without whom this would not be possible). Ciara sang about her heart opening, but the subtext was more that of her legs: As humpy as Prince's pre-JW days, "Promise" is a prime example of a song that barely grazes the concept of campiness, without going so over the top you can't release it on the radio. But with Polow's synth churning over on itself, the song was almost too much, waves crashing its own climax. Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder had to make "Love to Love You Baby" like, 17 minutes long to achieve this, and Ciara didn't even have to fake an orgasm. --Julianne Shepherd
41: Ghostface Killah [ft. Trife]
"Be Easy"
[Def Jam]
MP3: Ghostface Killah [ft. Trife]: "Be Easy"
My friend and fellow rock critic Michaelangelo Matos recently compared Fishscale to Mama Said Knock You Out, an I-haven't-fallen-off-yet-motherfuckers move by a guy who only really fell off in terms of sales, which were never quintuple-platinum to begin with. In this equation, "Be Easy" is the face-busting title track. Pete Rock's rock hard, rock simple drums fuse seamlessly with Ghost's I-AM-QUITE-WORKED-UP flow for a boneheaded, driving track that distills a whole bunch of what's good about hip-hop into less than four minutes: shouting, shit-talking, snares to crack skulls, and some more shit-talking. But even if the beat didn't knock, the way Ghost ends every line with a concussed "UH" like a linebacker Mark E. Smith means the acapella bangs just as hard. --Jess Harvell
40: Lily Allen
"LDN"
[Regal/Parlophone]
Remember the video for Len's 1999 teenybopper fuzz-rap opus "Steal My Sunshine"? The one where a bunch of smiling kids in wifebeaters and Matrix sunglasses and paperboy caps ride scooters around Southern California on a blissfully sunny day, renting jet skis and eating popcorn and mugging for the camera? "LDN" snatches one of those kids up and plunks her down in the middle of London. The day is just as gorgeous, but now she's riding past rotting tenements and crack dealers and black-hearted juvenile thieves. She's still got that dazed smile, but now it comes with a vicious mean streak and a mercilessly sharp eye. --Tom Breihan
39: Lil Wayne
"Georgia...Bush"
[Gangsta Grillz]
MP3: Lil Wayne: "Georgia...Bush"
If nothing else, Lil' Wayne's foray into politics gave more people a reason to listen to him. No other artist, and almost no other public figure, spoke as vehemently and incisively in response to the government's failures in post-Katrina New Orleans. Yes, "George Bush doesn't care about black people," but the President already knew that. Wayne said something new and deep, and, as a result, appealed to those who shared his frustration.
For those who followed Wayne regularly, though, "Georgia…Bush" was something more. It was a chance to hear Wayne's brains coherent after a year of his free-associative logorrhea. And by giving us a tiny glimpse of his spine, Wayne showed he was more than a talking head. --Pete Macia
38: Brightblack Morning Light
"Everybody Daylight"
[Matador]
MP3: Brightblack Morning Light: "Everybody Daylight"
"Dark blackness" is a redundant sci-fi cliché, usually referring to outer space or interior rot. The only degrees of lighter blackness that I can imagine being worth citing would have to do with faded rock-band t-shirts, and of course, matters of skin complexion. The term "Brightblack" stopped bugging me with this track, during which this band dipped their hippie-plink into imposing soul for a sound that suggested Isaac Hayes and Canned Heat swapping drugs, or Tricky hijacking a Mazzy Star reel. The whomping organ, slinking flute, and antsy high-hat combined to make "Everybody Daylight" suggestive not just of tie-dyed sarongs, but of a classic tune that would have gotten sampled on Marley Marl's Cold Chillin' records back in the day. --William Bowers
37: Jarvis Cocker
"Running the World"
[Rough Trade]
Back in the day, specificity was Jarvis Cocker's thing. When he had some sweeping point to make, he'd keep it hidden: false downward mobility as a rich chick from St. Martin's College, the emptiness of fame as the porn on his hotel-room TV. That's over. On "Running the World", only hamfisted sarcasm stands between us and the blunt force of Cocker's fatalism and despair-- and it still kills, mostly because nobody else does hamfisted sarcasm quite so well: "Now the working classes are obsolete/ They are surplus to society's needs/ So let them all kill each other/ And get it made overseas." In Cocker's hands, all that pessimism is anthem material, and the way his bitchy Bowie swoon floats over the track's shivering pianos and airy strings, you'd think he was wondering if they know it's Christmas after all. --Tom Breihan
36: Love Is All
"Busy Doing Nothing"
[What's Your Rupture?]
MP3: Love Is All: "Busy Doing Nothing"
Only in a socialist haven like Sweden could you live a life like Josephine Olausson's. According to "Busy Doing Nothing", the Love is All frontwoman spends about seven hours a day watching DVDs ("five movie marathon!"), another 30 minutes with her iPod on repeat ("nine times the same song!"), 10 hours in bed, 12 hours on the phone, an hour in the shower, and two more shining her shoes (even though she could probably pay a guy at the train station to do it in two minutes), which leaves her about, oh, three minutes and 20 seconds to brag about her sedentary existence while pogoing to a strobe-lit sax-punk groove. But even if it's a life of privilege that few of us can afford, "Busy Doing Nothing" lets us live it out in the privacy of our own rec-room discotheques-- just like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, but with the button-downs and briefs replaced by safety-pinned sweats and ripped stockings. --Stuart Berman
35: Justice
"Waters of Nazareth"
[Ed Banger/Vice]
French electro-house duo Justice incorporate heavy metal imagery into their presentation, often in ways that don't make sense. But "Waters of Nazareth", their first non-remix single, stands as a true cross-genre monster. At its core is a disfigured riff that sounds like a garbled distress signal from some distant colony and a blinker so distorted its original source could be synth, guitar, or virtually any other malfunctioning appliance. A solitary, submerged organ emerges midway through to give the gnarled rhythms a bit of a melancholic tug. But the track retains such a destructive edge that it can't help but summon visions of an apocalyptic future, as though it's all some lingering impression of rave culture as remembered by the few surviving machines that were able to outlast the humans. --Matthew Murphy
34: Kelis
"Bossy (Alan Braxe & Fred Falke Remix)"
[LaFace]
While making a case for the better-known, slinky single version of "Bossy", Pitchfork writer Julianne Sheperd told me this fluffed-up redo from French disco dudes Braxe & Falke "siphoned the gravity from the original." She's not wrong. The dance duo remove the song's off-kilter creep and crush in a few dozen caffeine pills, speeding the vocals double-time to fit their four-down Prince-isms. Kelis' sinister dominatrix vibe is sacrificed, but it's a heavenly sacrifice. Without Bangladesh's original leering beat tugging at her heels, Kelis goes superhero, soaring triumphant through puffy-cloud synths. Especially for an artist known for dissonance and confrontation, it's exhilarating to hear her flow with the wind squarely at her back. And Too $hort's guest verse-- which sounds utterly braindead on the original-- is given fresh life, with lines like "It's about time that she get with me/ Can't stop staring, she's fine and she's pretty" sounding way better than ever thought possible. --Ryan Dombal
33: Turbulence
"Notorious"
[XL]
Touted by Diplo on his late 2005 FabricLive mix and later by Thom Yorke as part of the pre-show intro music for Radiohead's 2006 world tour, this long-waylaid single from Jamaica's Turbulence found new life this year as the crown jewel in XL's solid Jamaican music compilation, Serious Times. Tasked with toppling the relentless semi-automatic spatters of the magnificently vicious Scallawah riddim, "Notorious" finds Turbulence delivering a fiery vocal performance, complete with laser-sharp backing harmonies. If you didn't know the lyrics, you'd be content to stop at calling it an incredibly bracing dancehall track. But once you realize it's actually about the sheer joy of salvation ("I could have been one of the most notorious/ I got saved by the king/ And his grace is so glorious") "Notorious" becomes something else entirely: The most incredible hymn you've heard in years. --Mark Pytlik
32: Christina Aguilera
"Ain't No Other Man"
[RCA]
The word here is "tight." DJ Premier brings in the funk and does his best to keep Christina from doing anything that a diva with her sort of brass and pipes is prone to do. And Aguilera obliges, keeping the vocal flourishes to a minimum, and her sentiment short and sweet. She might be leaning on the moon/spoon/June crutch a bit, but it's how she's saying what she says that tells her story about her man. And if you think you hear Bobby Byrd yelling "yeah" in the background between horn blasts, that just means you're buying what she's selling. --David Raposa
31: Matmos
"Steam and Sequins for Larry Levan"
[Matador]
MP3: Matmos: "Steam and Sequins for Larry Levan"
Boasting both the best hand-clapping and the sickest cowbell break on this list, Matmos' tribute to legendary DJ Larry Levan is five minutes of great beats, musique concrète (dig Drew Daniel on the sequins and sewing machine), and owl-like hoots that evoke bigger crowds and louder cheers from the past. Full disclosure: Daniel, a Pitchfork contributor, had a chance to vote this song onto this list. He didn't, but would you have blamed him? --Chris Dahlen
30: Cat Power
"Lived in Bars"
[Matador]
MP3: Cat Power: "Lived in Bars"
At first you think you know the drill: slow tempo, sad piano figure, and that husky Southern plaint. But when Chan Marshall sings, "There's nothing like living in a bottle/ And nothing like ending it all for the world," she's not just winking at her trauma-junkie fanbase while delivering the suicidal melancholic goods. By the end of this tune, she's serving notice that things have changed personally and aesthetically, and here she cleans house over Memphis soul horns and some gleeful, shit-kickin' "shoo-ba-doos." To the crabby miserabilists who find the most recent Cat Power album a little too musically "mature" and respectable (quelle horreur!), I would ask them to listen a little more closely. This song is a lot weirder than you think, but when she hits the final chorus she sounds thrillingly, shockingly sane. A new woman. --Drew Daniel
29: Beirut
"Postcards from Italy"
[Ba Da Bing!]
MP3: Beirut: "Postcards from Italy"
This song sells a nostalgia that Zach Condon should be too young to understand. While he gets novelty points for opening the track with a ukulele, the strongest parts are Elephant 6 veteran Jeremy Barnes' Eastern European drumming and Condon's evocative vocals-- easily compared to Rufus Wainwright's, but far less pompous. Though the rhythm is brisk, the song takes a leisurely pace with lengthy horn solos and plenty of room for the sentiment to cool off. It's just the right detachment to take when eulogizing someone else's memories. --Chris Dahlen
28: Man Man
"Van Helsing Boombox"
[Ace Fu]
MP3: Man Man: "Van Helsing Boombox"
Man Man's lovesick lament takes this year's prize for most golden melancholy. Honus Honus bays about sleeping at her feet and howling at the moon, sounding every inch the wounded mutt too stubborn to die. The song's self-negating chorus-- "When anything that's anything becomes nothing/ That's everything/ And nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have"-- gains emotional depth with each weary repetition. The bassline stumbles around barrelhouse piano, while a distant melodica wafts like a suppressed memory seeping into a drunken stupor. Honus has nothing, which explains the song's dejection. But if nothing is everything, as he insists, in a sense he's got it all, explaining his stubborn exuberance. Emo bands who rejoice in their pain could learn a thing or two from Man Man, who rejoice in spite of it. --Brian Howe
27: Sally Shapiro
"I'll Be By Your Side"
[Diskokaine]
MP3: Sally Shapiro: "I'll Be By Your Side"
Disco has been the music of chance encounters at least since Larry Levan was DJ at the Continental Baths. Even so, "I'll Be By Your Side" makes for an unlikely meeting: a Swedish producer who rekindles the cold flame of 1980s italo disco, and a pseudonymous chanteuse who brings out the genre's inner shyness. While Johan Agebjörn's four-on-the-floor beats and faraway synths make for beautifully nostalgic trappings, it's Sally Shapiro's soft voice that gives the song its fragile strength. "I'm with you all the time," Shapiro promises, but in so doing admits the possibility she might not be for long. Meanwhile, the singer's real name remains under wraps. Her poignancy and publicity-averseness has prompted Pitchfork's Tom Breihan to declare her "the new Belle & Sebastian," after Stuart Murdoch's famous early reticence. An electronic renaissance has probably made stranger bedfellows. --Marc Hogan
26: Camera Obscura
"Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken"
[Merge]
MP3: Camera Obscura: "Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken"
A loving rejoinder to Lloyd Cole & the Commotions' 1984 ballad "Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken?", the opening track from Camera Obscura's third album opens with a dirge-y organ intro and an endearingly awkward rhythmic chug that belies the terrifically massive hook that's about to swoop down for the chorus. "Heeeeeeeey Lloyd!" booms Tracyanne Campbell, at once demonstrating the difference between singing your heart out and singing about having your heart ripped out, "I'm ready to be heartbroken!" And, like a great soul singer laying waste to the microphone in the name of heartache, you love her all the more for it. --Mark Pytlik
25: Guillemots
"Trains to Brazil"
[Polydor]
Nobody can do the "leaving your flat and marching down the street to a bright new day" beat like the British, and echoing ELO's "Mr. Blue Sky", "Trains to Brazil" turns a walk through a dark night into something surprisingly fantastic. The lyrics start dark, and the title pays tribute to the victim of a police shooting. But the song chokes down tragedy and spits out joy. Fyfe Dangerfield's soaring, gnarly vocals keep getting away from him, and even when he starts to sneer, he doesn't have the heart for it. As the horns swirl to the finish, you feel like traffic lights should start blinking and people should hug on the sidewalk. Like the best British pop, it even makes London look a shade less grey. --Chris Dahlen
24: Califone
"The Orchids"
[Thrill Jockey]
Tim Rutili is drawn to rust and decay. His characters are troubled by frayed nerve endings and sour livers, and live constantly on the verge of doing something they'll regret. So he uses cover songs to give the warmth that exists as an undercurrent in his own music an opportunity to flower. Psychic TV's "The Orchids" is difficult to parse, with typically ambiguous references to the body, but Califone focuses on the song's simple beauty, its yearning to be a quiet anthem. The chorus, which mentions falling in love with the light, is an epiphany frozen and preserved, always ready for future access, the kind of thing you can return to the next time the walls start closing in. --Mark Richardson
23: Phoenix
"Long Distance Call"
[Astralwerks]
Phoenix's 2006 incarnation sounded like a band of OCD neat-freaks fighting to overcome their phobias, as they pushed themselves to incorporate a measured amount of sloppiness into their squeaky-clean sound, "Long Distance Call" was the closest they came to having a breakthrough. At first cautiously dipping their toes into Strokes-lite slacker jangle, then quickly retreating to safely airtight drums and shimmery keyboards, Phoenix forced these two oppositional elements to coexist in the choruses. You can hear a combination of fear and thrills in the way Thomas Mars' loses his icy cool demeanor, the mocking chortles of his verses replaced by fevered "OH!"s. --Rob Mitchum
22: Luomo
"Really Don't Mind (Radio Edit)"
[Huume]
MP3: Luomo: "Really Don't Mind (Radio Edit)"
With The Present Lover, Luomo conjured visions of voluptuous German house music soundtracking the latest in glittering chart pop (paging Kylie). But his new album, Paper Tigers, mostly dodged the issue, with the exception of "Really Don't Mind", perhaps the Finnish techno producer's most focused pop track yet. In its truncated radio version, the song encapsulates the artist's considerable arsenal of tricks in under four minutes: Swishing snares, dub echoes, and springloaded, fractured drums are present and correct, of course, but all ears are trained to the melancholy bass riffs, the achingly emotional clusters of synth chords, and the sweet but deliciously conflicted vocals ("You make me do wrong/ But I do what feels right"). Pushed forward by restless, senseless desire, "Really Don't Mind" spirals in on itself, culminating in a perfect tremor of lust that's as good as anything in "Can't Get You Out of My Head". --Tim Finney
21: The Pipettes
"Pull Shapes"
[Memphis Industries]
Happy, innocent songs about dancing are few and far between these days; happy, innocent songs about dancing that aren't annoying are even rarer. "Pull Shapes" begs to be replayed not just for pure enjoyment, but to discover all the little quirks that punch heart-shaped holes in the song's shiny girl-group façade. Quirks like the usages of "rock'n'roll" and "hip-hop" as verbs, the faint crowd noise at the end, the half-time record skip after "I like to hip-hop." And, of course, the hint of a feminist agenda behind the song's premise: a girl asking a "pretty boy" to dance. Because the personal is always political, and a dance is always more than just a dance-- even if you just wanna move-- you don't care what the song's about. --Amy Phillips
20: Clipse [ft. Pharrell]
"Mr. Me Too"
[Jive]
For a group that was essentially non-existent for three years to re-emerge with a song that indicts people they believe are biting them takes some nerve. Such is the audacity of Pusha T and Malice. Sonically, it's a fairly terrible choice as lead single (to say nothing of Pharrell opening the song rapping), but "Mr. Me Too" was thrilling because it was the opposite of everything We Got It 4 Cheap Vol. 2 predicted. Sedate and disarming while still provocative. Pusha ends his verse with the now oft-recited: "These are the days of our lives/ And I'm sorry to the fans, but them crackers won't play 'em fair-- Jive." Though their album's now arrived, few serious rap fans will trust the label ever again. And whether they were unloading on Lil Wayne or their man on the corner is of little concern. In the end, did they win? Yeah... us, too. --Sean Fennessey
19: Ghostface Killah
"Shakey Dog"
[Def Jam]
MP3: Ghostface Killah: "Shakey Dog"
Ghostface is renowned for his next-level quipping and Rosetta Stone metaphors, but this is an example of his excellence as a storyteller: George Pelecanos couldn't have done a better job with "Shakey Dog", a realistic, fine-print-detail play-by-play which Ghost rapped like the storyboards for an episode of "The Wire". Only the shit was in real time, as he took us on a journey from a cab uptown to the middle of a bloody shoot-out. On a dramatic, car-chase-invoking sample of the Dells' "I Can Sing a Rainbow/Love Is Blue", Ghost begins as the protagonist in the back of a car, eating fries, smoking joints, and loading a gun, ready to rob some drug dealers uptown, Omar-style. "Back seat with my leg all stiff," he says. "Push the fuckin' seat up, tartar sauce on my S Dot kicks." He switches voices more than once, barely pausing for breath as he raps from the perspectives of different characters, but never leaves out the details that make this track so immediate. As he spies on his targets, he considers his own hunger: "These fuckin' maricons on the couch watchin' 'Sanford and Son'/ Passin' they rum, fried plantains and rice/ Big round onions on a T-bone steak, my stomach growling/ Yo I want some." Before long, the dealer's wife starts screaming in Spanish, the pitbull is let loose, and the apartment is overtaken by plumes of gunsmoke. "To be continued," is the last line. A rap so cinematic it needs a commercial break! --Julianne Shepherd
18: Band of Horses
"The Funeral"
[Sub Pop]
MP3: Band of Horses: "The Funeral"
I'm one of maybe three people in the world who actually liked the fuzzy, black-and-white, traffic-school video for this anthem from Everything All the Time. Really it's a nonvideo, neither distracting from nor adding to the song itself. Which was a smart move: "The Funeral" is the supreme weeper of the year, proof that indie guitars can be tender and gentle and that indie songwriting doesn't have to sacrifice intimacy for size. To leash the song to visuals would resolve the lyrics' conflicted empathy, lessen the impact of Ben Bridwell's ghostly ooohs, and sever the listener's personal connection to it. And "The Funeral" is a song that people connect to, as reader emails continue to attest. So long as it doesn't end up soundtracking some crummy indie movie, it'll be ours forever. --Stephen M. Deusner
17: Herbert
"Something Isn't Right"
[!K7]
MP3: Herbert: "Something Isn't Right"
In a cruel bit of self-reflexive judo, Matthew Herbert turns the very gloss and sophistication of his own disco-jazz production chops into a foil for a narrative of romantic failure and collapse. Herbert's music has never sounded more glamorous and widescreen: He's going to town with tricky horn charts, tightly picked funk guitar bridges, and luscious orchestral arrangements. This is a song wearing pop history on its sleeve, with cleverly nestled references to hooks past; I hear overt nods to Quincy Jones, Stephanie Mills, and Earth, Wind and Fire. But there's a terrible sorrow and frustration coiled within. When Dani Siciliano's breathy voice coos the blunt chorus, "There must be something wrong/ I don't feel love," you feel both clued in to the "friendly torture" the song describes and enacts. When you get past the increasingly dubious chant that "I'm all over this" to the final cliffhanger strings, you don't know whether to dance or cry. --Drew Daniel
16: Hot Chip
"Over and Over"
[Astralwerks]
Sometime during this decade, indie music opened a window for awkward white boys to dominate dancefloors to previously unimaginable extents. And though that window has significantly narrowed over the past couple years, bands like Hot Chip keep squeezing through. Honoring the LCD Soundsystem formula of rock-crit as song concept, "Over and Over" mocks repetitive arrangements while building a microdot groove of its own, keyboards and one-note guitar piling atop each other like hands in a huddle. Just when you start to think they might be hypocrites, the song unexpectedly scuttles the momentum, if only to show off their ability to rebuild the beat from scratch. Just when you think these guys must be pretty damn cool, their sex-jam spelling-bee is interrupted by a synthesizer brand name, a momentary reminder of the tech-geek handicap Hot Chip triumphantly overcame to bring you this seething banger. --Rob Mitchum
15: Lupe Fiasco
"Kick Push"
[Atlantic]
Six months ago, when a friend of mine-- someone who's felt burnt by hip-hop ever since Phife hung up his New Balances-- called to ask if I'd heard the "hip-hop skateboard single," I knew this was something special. And I'm not so afraid of looking like the corniest man in Corntown that I won't say that this song found its way onto more than a few personal mixtapes as I was falling in love earlier this year. (Irony of ironies: She's now moving to icy Chicago, where this perfect summer single inexplicably came from.) Both musically and lyrically, the way this song so purposefully plays up to saps is indefensible, but you can't knock those strings, some of the prettiest to ever grace a pop single. --Jess Harvell
14: The Knife
"We Share Our Mothers' Health"
[Mute]
The Knife's Silent Shout offered a fantasyland as elaborately detailed as any record's all year, and plenty has already been written about how flat-out otherworldly it was-- a haunted houseful of demented voices, rusted-out music boxes, creepy familial tensions, even paranoid refugees and anti-Communist purges. Yeah, it's spooky. But let's not forget that it's also, in spots, mind-bogglingly fierce-- and for a catchy, danceable synth track, "We Share Our Mothers' Health" is about as intense as it gets. The beat clangs like hardcore; the bass synth sounds like an evil inner tube; and Karin Dreijer's voice, which starts off sounding painfully human, turns into some kind of vacuum-cleaner demon halfway through, and then starts accompanying itself with the insistent keening of some killer bird with enormous claws that lives out in the snow. This is pretty much the grimmest theatrical production to come out of Scandinavia since Ibsen, only a lot more fun. --Nitsuh Abebe
13: Junior Boys [ft. Andi Toma]
"In the Morning"
[Domino]
MP3: Junior Boys [ft. Andi Toma]: "In The Morning"
The production is rock solid: all the yearning and innocence of 1980s new wave brought intact into the present without a scratch, yet somehow updated to sound completely of the moment. And the melody bounces along like a small white ball over the words, sounding like it was written years ago and was just waiting to be discovered. But the magic of the thing is in Jeremy Greenspan's voice, rhythmic and punctuated despite a tone that can only be described by invoking whispers and coos. He's always up against your ear, and you can almost feel his breath on your neck; it'd be creepy if he wasn't so warm, articulating longing and confusion with a smoothness that says music is the one thing we can control, the tool to make everything all right. --Mark Richardson
12: Killer Mike
"That's Life"
[mixtapes]
MP3: Killer Mike: "That's Life"
FEMA's still juking the stats, and everytime you see edutainer-cum-bullshitter Common hawking hoodies between scenes of "Heroes" in the name of peace, I hope you think of Killer Mike, who, on "That's Life", delivers his Cornel West-conversating/Michael Eric Dyson-debating knowledge in a screed so passionate you'll be screaming church by the time the final Sinatra sample hits. An exasperated defense of rappers against the bourgeoisie a-holes who vilify them, this Purple Ribbon All-Star was motivated by pure teeth-baring emotion, his sardonic disillusionment bitter and real: "Pipe dreams/ Crack fiends/ Cars look like ice cream/ Kids see the bling bling/ And they want them nice things/ All cause of tennis shoes/ Our kids drop out of high school/ They said 'Be Like Mike'/ So ball, nigga!/ That's life." He calls out hypocrites who boycotted Ludacris but forgave Martha Stewart: "If I actually do time, I can come back out and have a TV show with an all-white audience? But if I RAP about getting some money on the block, it's a problem? ARE YOU FUCKING RETARDED?" Andrew Hacker wrote this book in 1992 called Two Nations: Black and White, Separate, Hostile, Unequal. It's still relevant. "We wear our fuckin' pants big because our mothers were too poor to buy our size," Mike levels. "Call it what it is, nigga: It's fucking poverty." In a year full of crap, Killer Mike cut right through it. --Julianne Shepherd
11: The Hold Steady
"Stuck Between Stations"
[Vagrant]
MP3: The Hold Steady: "Stuck Between Stations"
The state of mind Craig Finn describes here is so vivid. Those periods of doubt where nothing quite makes sense, you can't get a handle on things, everything seems to be in a constant state of flux, and hey, all this drinking isn't making things any clearer. Sometimes it's like this-- especially tonight. Where to get your bearings in such a world? How do you know what you can hold onto? It's the sort of thing that can drive someone like poet John Berryman to make regrettable choices. But even if you don't feel like paying attention to Finn's take on the drama, you've still got the riffs. A concise statement of a fantastic album's thesis that happens to be a kick-ass song in its own right. --Mark Richardson
10: Christian Falk [ft. Robyn & Ola Salo]
"Dream On"
[Bonnier Amigo]
"Dream On" knows that to deliver a message, it's best to keep things simple, and this song's looped breakbeat, trembling electroclash bass, and winsome synth arpeggios are happy to be the pretty, bittersweet background to Robyn's sermonizing lyrics. Thugs, badmen, punks, lifers, locked-up interns, pigs, and snitches, all have somewhere to come home to in this one-night-only offer of shelter to the unwanted. "Dream On" is ultimately sadder and darker for what it seeks to save us from ("you won't be backstabbed, double-crossed, face down, teeth knocked out, lying in a gutter somewhere"), and it's this fragility-- the frustrating hopelessness of the dream-- that makes it such an effective, unexpected tearjerker. Nominally a duet, "Dream On" is really Robyn's song, her throaty, tremulous performance verging on the evangelical as it crowds out everything else. --Tim Finney
09: Joanna Newsom
"Emily"
[Drag City]
A popular but false notion of Joanna Newsom is that the classically trained harpist's luxurious fantasias amount to little more than childlike playacting. But "Emily", a beautiful 12-minute deluge of exotic imagery that hinges on an elliptical narrative and Van Dyke Parks' lush symphonics-- proves otherwise. It isn't just ambitious; it's an entirely human tale, heavy on empathy and devoid of artifice. Sure, she drops a "thee," but it's only at the playful, rhyming end of an astronomy lesson about meteors that she set to verse so she'd always remember. In the end, Newsom's song is all humility, the sound of this precocious talent bowing to the respective bravery and wisdom of her sister and father. --Grayson Currin
08: Beach House
"Apple Orchard"
[Carpark]
MP3: Beach House: "Apple Orchard"
It wouldn't have been possible without shoegaze. Baltimore's Beach House gravitate to gauzy sounds that shimmer and hang in the air, and that their chords morph lazily into each other makes it easy to underestimate the duo's songwriting talent. On first blush, "Apple Orchard" just kind of glides along, its organ twisting and turning indiscriminately, its guitar floating languidly in the background. But by the time you finally unpack it, on the fourth or fifth listen, you find there's a compact and marvelously crafted song at its core. And suddenly, in the context of its spacious arrangements, the chugging hook and minute pauses in Victoria Legrand's chorus ("Let's lie down for a while/ You can smile") seem Grand Canyon large. Forget autumn: This was one of the most beautiful songs of the year. --Mark Pytlik
07: Hot Chip
"Boy From School"
[Astralwerks]
Hot Chip learned how to perform the way a live band should: with force and might. They also learned to wipe the smirks off their faces. Hot Chip leaders Alexis Taylor and Joe Goddard are two of the most promising young songwriters around, and "Boy From School", their masterpiece-so-far, exudes a kind of sadness that feels earned without sounding meek. Since they make a sort of filtered dance-pop, they've often masked their songs' identities behind canny phrasing or silly double entendres. But here, they're direct, singing in harmony, "We tried, but we don't belong," over a boomeranging track and crinkling wind chimes. In 2006, "Boy From School" energized downtempo electronic with vigor, and took the heart-pounding to ever greater heights. --Sean Fennessey
06: Clipse
"Trill"
[Jive]
When I interviewed Pusha T late last year, he touched on Clipse's unique relationship with the Neptunes. "Everybody else comes up to them says, 'Hey, give me one of them joints with the congos or bongos or whatever the hell,'" he said. "But when they work with us, if it ain't something crazy, we don't want it." I imagine "Trill" probably started off as a relatively standard Neptunes club track; the round bass dropping off the syncopated hi-hats, Pharrell playing dumb on the hook. But the song's black-hole suction is almost wholly dependent on that squelching keyboard line that's forever mashing dirt like an army of deranged earthworms. Malice and especially Pusha-- who even switches to a Mase-esque sing-song for the occasion-- sound as rough as ever, but it barely matters. And that's the impetus to its greatness; "Trill" turns two of rap's most scenery-gulping MCs into premium perks. --Ryan Dombal
05: Peter Bjorn and John [ft. Victoria Bergsman]
"Young Folks"
[Wichita]
MP3: Peter Bjorn and John [ft. Victoria Bergsman]: "Young Folks"
Stockholm's indie-pop pied pipers whistled, and music lovers couldn't help but follow: MySpace, YouTube, the BBC, NPR, first-wave blogs, Pitchfork, blogs by kids who stalk Pitchfork writers on IM... even "Grey's Anatomy". In a year of The Long Tail -- when nobody didn't have a website (not even Ryan Adams), and music listening followed TV viewing and political wingnuttery into Big Bang-style fragmentation-- "Young Folks" belonged to everyone. Taken from Writer's Block, the latest album by Swedish trio Peter Bjorn and John, the summer single's spacious reverb leaves two world-weary strangers alone over the busy rhythms of a crowded nightlife scene. Their seduction becomes a metaphor for our own.
Like record collectors jaded by the last Next Big Thing, PB&J's Peter Morén and ex-Concretes singer Victoria Bergsman bring low expectations: "No one will surprise me unless you do," Bergsman shrugs. But soon the two are inseparable, promising it's not about style-- young, old, or even their own-- and it's not about the kids, the oldsters, or anyone else, either: "All we care about is talking/ Talking only me and you," they enthuse, unwilling to spoil so rare a feeling with pointless comparisons. --Marc Hogan
04: TV on the Radio
"Wolf Like Me"
[Interscope]
Wolves, as many naturalists could tell you, have had a bad rap for centuries. Thanks to their negative portrayal in all manner of fairytales, horror movies, and Old World folklore, they've earned a bloodthirsty reputation far out of proportion with their actual history of mayhem and destruction. TV on the Radio's rampaging tale of transformation, "Wolf Like Me", certainly buys into that Red Riding Hood mythology, but they're also savvy enough to recognize that sometimes pack animals are just on the prowl looking for new playmates. Tunde Adebimpe's charismatic wolfman is undoubtedly a wild character, but in pursuit of this romantic quarry he always takes care to use his powers of persuasion rather than predation. "When the moon is round and full," he promises seductively, "Gonna teach you tricks that will blow your mongrel mind."
Of course, it doesn't hurt that this fervent pitch is delivered atop one of the year's most immediate and indestructible punk-bred productions. Guitarist/producer David Sitek and the group fill the night air with such savage rip-currents of vocals and guitar that the wind at Adebimpe's back soon grows into an irresistible cyclonic force. It draws the listener inexorably into TVOTR's den, as the enraptured closing affirmation "We're howling forever" begins to sound ever more inclusive and triumphant. --Matthew Murphy
03: T.I.
"What You Know"
[Atlantic]
In The Wire, writer Hua Hsu compared T.I.'s "What You Know" to Jimi Hendrix's monolithic "Hey Joe". This is a record so epic that it positively encourages outlandish comparisons. It's the biggest noise of the year and also one of the simplest: a keyboard line by DJ Toomp that rolls out and keeps on rollin' like a slow-ass tidal wave of cheap synthetic grandeur. It's the mid-range that swallowed rap.
As plenty of mixtapes proved this year, just about anyone sounds good rapping over "What You Know" and that zillion dollar riff. But it's T.I. who makes the track that bears his name one of the year's best. The King lives up to his title, following the dips and crests of the melody with a regal surety and never sounding lost in its long shadow. And the whole thing probably sounds even better rolling through in a big ride with a killer system instead of walking around with tinny, tiny buds jammed in my ears. So maybe the best compliment I can pay this monster of a song is that it kinda makes me want to steal a car. --Jess Harvell
02: The Knife
"Silent Shout"
[Mute]
No one can hear you scream. Every piece of this song-- the treated vocal, the insistent, uncooperative arpeggios, the muffled drums, and the gradual build to what, in any other song, might be called a "climax," but here is evasive and even-keeled-- is a clue that the Knife understand their subject matter better than most. Surprisingly, this wasn't usually the song gushed about during conversations I had about this band this year, yet after all the cards have fallen, it seems like an obvious representative for both the band and 2006. There's something anticlimactic about it, maybe in the same way isolation in general is anticlimactic, always moving from one still, cold moment to another. Karin Dreijer sings about hopeless dreams where her teeth fall out, and even when the electronic hi-hats ruffle by like a flock of birds scared by a passing car, that vision never seems manic or macabre. Instead, "Silent Shout" seems veiled and driven, making me feel pushed on by something, but covering all tracks of whatever's doing the pushing. And it demonstrates something interesting about music: You don't have to be able to make out the exact contour of a dark landscape if you can feel your way through. --Dominique Leone
01: Justin Timberlake [ft. T.I.]
"My Love"
[Jive]
Some people still get gassed that we like Justin Timberlake, as if there were some honor in denying good songs. But Timberlake is the new King of Pop, and just like the old King, he’s not scared to sing like a girl as long as his tracks are thrillers. We appreciate him for that, for taking the throne and working with producers who take risks and constantly surprise us.
Despite leaking as the worst mp3 ever, "My Love" felt like an instant favorite. It jolted us so much we gave it a five-star review after some wishful (but futile) EQ'ing. Days later, usually fussy DJs played it in clubs, and some smart guy made t-shirts that said, "Atlantic Records for T.I. Clearance," the vocal stamp on the leaked track meant to discourage pirates. Maybe they were being ironic, but we like to think not.
The thing is, "My Love" wasn't made to please hipsters or blow up the internet. Timbaland, and his unsung protégé, Danja, wanted to make the song of the year and got us by default. Their audacious synthesizer fury turned JT's little valentine into sentimental napalm. You want his love? You're melting in it. Yes, T.I. called himself "candle guy," but "My Love" still won, proving that even the coolest artists (and coolest songs) don't have to always be so cool. --Peter Macia
