The Best of the Decade: 10-1

I've decided to run down my Top 50 albums of the decade that's just passed. I love a list as much as anyone (in fact, probably more) and it was something to focus on in the dearth of new music post-Christmas. Some of the paragraphs are in the style of press releases, some attempt to put into words what makes an album so special, others have a personal experience that make them important to me and any could have spelling and grammar mistakes. It really was a case of go with what you feel on this one...

1: The Dears - No Cities Left (Bella Union/2003)

Maybe not an obvious choice but one I’m more than willing to stand by. Occasionally part of a song is fantastic and will stop you in your tracks, on rarer occasions it’s an entire song which is truly exceptional, but then there’s that time where an album catches you in the right place at the right time and truly floors you. The Dears never really captured the imagination of the UK; frequently being judged as inferior to the similar-sounding Blur or The Smiths. However, No Cities Left is simply magical from start to finish. This is a sound of a band putting their blood, sweat and tears into a record and is surely their creative peak. Head Dear Murray Lightburn croons his way through twelve tracks that range from the beautiful and timid to the all-out crunching riffs and wall of guitars of Lost in the Plot. It’s not difficult to see where the Smiths comparisons come from, as Lightburn does his best Morrissey impression on The Second Part (“It rained all day/I don’t… have a raincoat… of my own”) but this record is far more than the sum of its influences. 22: The Death of All the Romance charts the heartbreaking end of a relationship and pours salt into its still-raw wounds, Expect the Worst/’Cos She’s a Tourist takes in pizzicato string quartets before melding them to dream-like woozy pop and Pinned Together, Falling Apart begins in what is apparently an explosion in a drum factory. Startingly ambitious, never dull and far, far better than ever given credit for, No Cities Left is a treat for the ears and should be investigated further by everyone, me included. It always offers something new on each listen, it really does run that deep. Forget everything else you may know of The Dears or may have heard since, No Cities Left stands alone as true genius, a masterpiece, a perfect example of why music is so loved and, undoubtedly, the finest record of this past decade.

2: Radiohead: In Rainbows (self-released/2007)

What with all the hoopla surrounding the “honesty box” method of payment and means of distribution for In Rainbows, it’s surprising the music got a look in at all. Radiohead being Radiohead, however, had an ace up their sleeve and had put together their best album of a long and distinguished career. The Bends is too straightforward, OK Computer often leaves me cold, but In Rainbows is the definitive Radiohead record, combining the rock of their 1990s work with the experimentalism of Kid A. From the scattergun drums of opening track, 15 Step, it’s clear this is no ordinary record. Thom Yorke’s lyrics may be a collection of half-phrases, idioms and proverbs but here it suits the nature of the music to perfection. Bodysnatchers is the finest straight-up rock song Radiohead ever wrote, and Nude is curiously uplifting and deeply affecting with its backwards sections. Whilst All I Need displays vulnerability and a glimpse into Radiohead’s world, Jigsaw Falling Into Place is the star of the show, morphing from claustrophobic riffs into a loose but thrilling track. It’s interesting to note that for all their concepts, patterns and tricks, the career-defining Radiohead album is the one where they simply wrote a collection of indisputably amazing songs.

3: The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love (Rough Trade/2009)

It shouldn’t work: in the age of single-track downloads and short attention spans, The Decemberists release a concept album with a complex narrative arc, repeated themes and no gaps between the tracks. It shouldn’t work, but my word, it most certainly does. From an unremarkable beginning, The Hazards of Love builds and builds into something truly extraordinary and unrelenting. When you think the music can’t build any more, in comes a riff, a vocal, a drum fill or all three to confound your expectations. In typical Decemberists’ fashion, the lyrical themes fixate on death but there’s loss, regret and haunting thrown into the mix here too. The Rake’s Song tells of a man’s decision to murder his offspring following the death of their mother in childbirth, propelled along by the most thumping percussion you’ll hear in music today. Backing vocals transform The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid into something ethereal and majestic while (spoiler alert!) the villain getting his comeuppance in the end is as satisfying and thrilling as any book or film. That’s what The Decemberists do best - take the literary and set it to thrilling music and here, they’ve never done it better.

4: Radiohead - Kid A (Parlophone/2000)

It’s all been done, right? The Beatles wrote the rule book, smashed the system and then a handful of innovators have truly done something completely new in the field of popular music. That may have looked the case but Kid A was something even the most fervent Radiohead fan couldn’t have anticipated. There’s a school of thought that says this album is more influential than listenable, more to be appreciated than enjoyed, and it’s difficult to totally refute that - you wouldn’t put it on to impress a date, for example. But Kid A truly transcends the boundaries of popular music; it’s the sound of being alive in the 21st Century. Clocks tick, hearts beat, there’s the sturm und drang of industry, clicks, glitches, warmth, and there’s also melodies too. Some of the sounds made on this record seem perfect to soundtrack film of foetuses on the womb, so the appeal of this album could somehow be evolutionary, but repeated listens show Radiohead know what they’re doing and they remembered to include songs to go with it. Idioteque is beguiling, stark and primal, How to Disappear Completely swirls and sucks you in, while Everything in Its Right Place seems to invent patterns of chords and notes you’ve never heard before. Of all the records on this list, Kid A will be the one that sounds most relevant, fresh, vital and ground-breaking in fifty years’ time, just like it does today and just like it always has done.

5: Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid (Fiction/2008)

Nice guys don’t always have to finish last, and here’s the proof. Years of slog and toil and three albums of being nearly-men all seemed to be worth it when Elbow really hit the big time with the release of The Seldom Seen Kid. Critical acclaim, sales and the Mercury prize followed and general consensus said it couldn’t have happened to nicer people. Of course, that’s not particularly pertinent to the record's overall quality, but it certainly makes for a better story. What separates Elbow from the crowd is Guy Garvey, with his sweet, sentimental voice and extraordinary way with a phrase - he has a knack for saying what you’ve always felt, but never even knew you wanted to express. The Seldom Seen Kid displays naked emotion from the opening of Starlings (cautious build-up followed by the best horn stabs this side of disco) and oddly, makes you root for the band you’re listening to. Windswept and carrying the battle scars of life, The Seldom Seen Kid is a lament to a lost friend, a beautiful union and inspirationally wonderful.

6: Arcade Fire - Funeral (Rough Trade/2005)

Well, they repeatedly play this one note for a few bars, then it breaks into the whole band singing la-la-la. Have you ever tried to explain to someone why the beginning of Wake Up is so uplifting? The moment the voices break through is one of those moments that gets you every time, yet the ingredients that make it up are so simple. This is why Funeral is so peculiar; there’s nothing in its make-up that suggests it should be one of the albums of the decade, but Arcade Fire are clearly playing because they love it. And also, why is an album fixated on death and loss so life-affirming? Maybe it’s because Arcade Fire sounded like the gang you wanted to be in, they’re the Not-So-Secret Seven and it’s them against the world with their harmonies and baroque pop from another time. You get to know them and the bittersweet ending of Funeral, In The Backseat, peels back any barrier that may still remain and becomes one of the most gut-wrenching songs you’ll ever hear. A stellar album, victory was theirs, and we were there to enjoy it with them.

7: Tindersticks - Waiting for the Moon (Beggar’s Banquet/2003)

Tindersticks’ first three albums (two called Tindersticks and one called Curtains) were so critically acclaimed, it seemed everyone was suffering from Tindersticks fatigue afterwards and they’ve been largely ignored since. It’s a crying shame; Waiting for the Moon was the album that introduced me to Tindersticks and has become one of the great lost records of the 21st Century. Admittedly, they don’t break the mould - the women are still always glamorous and unobtainable, the cigarette always lit and the glass (of whiskey, naturally) always half-empty, but it doesn’t mean Waiting for the Moon is anything but a work of staggering beauty. The album creeps in almost unnoticed with Until the Morning Comes, where Stuart Staples sounds half on the verge of tears and half of the verge of murder. 4:48 Psychosis is deeply evocative and unsettling and Sometimes It Hurts is a lush ballad fit to stand along career-highpoint, Buried Bones. Where Waiting for the Moon really comes into its own, though, is the seven-minute epic, My Oblivion. It’s classic Tindersticks; it’s languid, it’s drenched in strings, it’s mournful, it’s yearning and it’s utterly, utterly breathtaking.

8: Kings of Convenience - Riot on an Empty Street (Source/2004)

If producing an album of largely acoustic, quasi-pastoral pop, you need to have a trick or two up your sleeve just to keep it interesting. In which case, Kings of Convenience proved that they’re veritable magicians with the release of Riot on an Empty Street. Bubbling with intrigue and mystery, the understated, almost disinterested vocals of Erland Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe (and, on occasion, Feist) are perfectly married to the delicate sunshine melodies and intricate finger-picking. Understated, sparse and gorgeous, Riot on an Empty Street is 45 minutes where you can get lost and just absorb what’s coming out of the speakers. Reminiscent of Simon and Garfunkel in their pomp, whether performing lingering ballads (The Build Up) or uptempo, perky pop (I’d Rather Dance with You), Kings of Convenience are always compelling.

9: Midlake - The Trials of Van Occupanther (Bella Union/2006)

Fleet Foxes took a host of plaudits for their eponymous début and while it’s a fine album, it’s hard to not feel like Midlake had been cheated somewhat. Two years before Fleet Foxes was The Trials of Van Occupanther; an album which also expertly blended the folk-rock of Crosby, Stills and Nash with the 21st Century, but did so with stronger melodies, finer song structures and more evocative lyrics. Case in point, the corking opener, Roscoe, which chugs along on a steady piano and guitar base before throwing in drum fills and angular licks that give it a whole new dimension. Witness also Head Home, the best 1970s country-rock classic there never was and Young Bride, with its sweet melody that comes from nowhere and its repeated vocal coda accompanied only by strings. At its heart, though, was a distillation of everything great and good from its influences, leading to an album with an irresistible pull. Someone once said that they best bands live in their own universe, and on the evidence of The Trials of Van Occupanther, Midlake’s 19th Century America is a fantastic one to inhabit.

10: Dan Le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip - Angles (Sunday Best Recordings/2008)

It doesn’t quite seem right that the most inventive, witty and interesting hip-hop album of the decade came from darkest Essex, but maybe Dan Le Sac and Scroobius Pip (they tend to collaborate rather than face-off, despite what their name suggests) were simply more hungry than everyone else. Pip certainly seems so as he furiously spits rhymes on The Beat That My Heart Skipped; a track whose tempo seems to suit his flow to a tee as he veers from quintessential Englishman to hip-hop connoisseur, sometimes in the same couplet (“Oh, Good God, damn, and other such phrases/Haven’t heard a beat like this for ages”). Angles isn’t afraid to take on the topics not often covered in rap either - there’s religion (Letter from God to Man), suicide (Magician’s Assistant) and, of course, the life and death of Tommy Cooper (Tommy C). These can pale into insignificance though, when compared to what is possibly the single of the decade: Thou Shalt Always Kill. Detractors will point to the fact it’s contradictory (it provides a list of stars whose names are not to be taken in vain in one verse, and instructs you not to put stars on pedestals the next) but it brought something back into pop that’s been sorely missed - humour. Endlessly quotable lines (today’s favourite is “thou shalt not express your shock at the fact that Sharon got off with Brad at the club last night by saying, “is it?””), heavy beats and a helping of bleeps that sound as if they come from a Nintendo Game Boy circa 1992, it’s the peak of a fantastic album and above all, FUN!

The Best of the Decade: 20-11

11: Lambchop - OH (Ohio) (City Slang/2008)

Like UK soundalikes Tindersticks, Lambchop are a perennially misunderstood band. Dismissed for being “miserable” or “depressing”, their songs in reality shine with heartbreaking beauty and are packed with desert-dry humour. It may not be critically considered their finest work, but Lambchop hit their critical peak with their most recent LP. Perfect for night-time listening, this collection of torch songs is stop-you-in-your-tracks astounding. Kurt Wagner is in fine voice, crackling with aching on Hold of You, a track where Wagner’s singing is so attention-grabbing, a mundane opening line (“This pencil’s got a nice feel to it”) is transformed into something otherworldly and full of pathos. Oh, and of course, any album with a track called National Talk Like a Pirate Day is automatically a winner.

12: Bright Eyes - I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning (Saddle Creek/2005)

Fans had always claimed Conor Oberst aka Bright Eyes was ambitious, but until 2005 it appeared they were confusing it with “prolific”, and that’s not always a good thing. Then, Bright Eyes released two albums simultaneously: one of cold electronica (Digital Ash in a Digital Urn) and this alt-country belter. And ambitious it was too - you don’t duet with Emmylou Harris and rework Beethoven’s Ode to Joy unless you have supreme confidence in your own abilities. I’m Wide Awake… shows that confidence wasn’t misguided as this largely acoustic album really packs a punch. The slide guitar melds perfectly with Harris’ voice on We Are Nowhere and It’s Now, and solitude is crystallised in the affecting Lua. It’s also the only Bright Eyes album where you really feel you’re getting an insight into Oberst’s role as reluctant indie poster boy and thankfully, he has the good grace to put some grand instrumentation behind it all.

13: The Postal Service - Give Up (Sub Pop/2003)

Along with the BBC and the NHS, the Royal Mail are a fantastic public service that should never be allowed to die. They strike, they’re often late and they sometimes lose your letters, but if you want to send a postcard 300 miles, see how far you get on less than 50p. Luckily, the American postal service didn’t lose any of the demos and tracks sent back and forth by Jimmy Tamborello and Ben Gibbard which made Give Up. Famously created while its two protagonists were miles apart, Give Up has the smell of obsessive bedroom musician all over it, such is its attention to detail. Every click, tone and buzz sounds like it’s been meticulously pored over for hours and gives an edge to a collection of otherwise unremarkable pop melodies. We Will Become Silhouettes adds a human, vulnerable edge to the robo-pop of Kraftwerk and, along with the rest of Give Up, spearheaded the indietronica explosion in the middle of the decade. Exceptionally popular and enduring (single Such Great Heights was top of last.fm’s most-played chart for nigh on a year), Give Up is a great example of when collaborations really, really work.

14: Belle and Sebastian - Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant (Jeepster/2000)

Unloved, neglected, forgotten - that’s the attitude towards the album that no-one calls FYHCYWLAP for short. Admittedly, it’s predecessor - 1998’s The Boy With the Arab Strap - was superior, but Fold Your Hands… is still well-worthy of your consideration. Considerably darker and more morose than the rest of B&S’s oeuvre, it’s the sound of a relationship at its most strained. Isobel Campbell left the band under a cloud after this album but, whisper it quietly, this album contains some of the best work of a fine career and represents the last of their nervous, über-indie records. Nice Day for a Sulk is bouncy, throwaway fun and in stark contrast to the previous track, the genuinely harrowing The Chalet Lines. However, despite its subject matter and behind-the-scenes falling apart, this is an album to cherish and enjoy. The Model showcases that B&S do wry humour better than anyone and There’s Too Much Love closes the album by making you feel it’ll all be ok in the end. Definitely due some kind of re-appraisal, if you let one badly-titled record into your life today, make it this one.

15: Scott Matthews - Passing Stranger (San Remo/2006)

Wolverhampton-based singer-songwriter releases début album of Eastern-tinged acoustic folk? Be still, my beating heart! But Passing Stranger manages to break free from hundreds of identikit men clogging up the music biz through the sheer strength of Matthews' songwriting and love for his craft. Those Eastern influences also give an additional dimension that you don’t often find on albums originating in the West Midlands. Dream Song, in particular, is given a little extra something from a touch of sitar, and the slide guitar which pervades other tracks doesn’t exactly harm them. Like anyone with an acoustic guitar, a suspicion of a folk influence and a touch of soul in their voice, Jeff Buckley and Nick Drake comparisons have been made, but on the evidence of Passing Stranger, that may actually be justified.

16: The Go! Team - Thunder, Lightning, Strike (Memphis Industries/2004)

The music industry is a hype machine; a big, fat, stinking hype machine. But every now and then, something comes out of nowhere and reminds you why you fell in love with the art of organised sound in the first place. Enter Thunder, Lightning, Strike - a cut n’ paste album which is simply tremendous FUN! Horns parp, samples fit together seamlessly and the tracks sound as if they would be played on a never-invented 80s children’s TV show (though maybe that train of thought comes from the fact one track is called Junior Kickstart). This is dance music that isn’t self-conscious, hip-hop that doesn’t acknowledge gangsta rap (surely one of the weakest genres of recent years in terms of real quality) and absolutely joyous. Head rapper Ninja sounds as if she’s having the time of her life as she dispenses rhymes about… well, not much, really, but that’s all part of the appeal. Stand-out track Bottle Rocket encapsulates The Go! Team ethos. It’s concerned with nothing but having a good time, it’s ultimately meaningless, it sounds like a riot in an instrument factory and it’s all in glorious, glorious technicolour.

17: The Sleepy Jackson - Lovers (Virgin/2003)

The best albums have your attention from the word “go”. Now, normally that means something like a great opening chorus, or a spine-tingling middle-eight but occasionally an album takes just two seconds to achieve greatness. The best opening of the 20th Century was The Flaming Lips’ The Soft Bulletin and so far, there’s nothing to touch Lovers in the 21st Century. Two strikes of a drum in quick succession precede the most uplifting note - slide guitar and strings combine to shatter any reverie you may be in and immediately pin you to the seat. Numerous listens fail to diminish its effect and I’ll say it again: the opening seconds of Good Dancers on Lovers represent the best opening to any album of the last ten years. Happily, the rest of the album is pretty darn good too. Luke Steele takes his cue from the 1970s and although he may sail close to pastiche on occasion, the quality of the writing sees him through. Tracks like Come to This and Rain Falls for Wind are truly irresistible and it’s one of those all-too-rare albums that seems to have a beginning, middle and end. Shame everything else he’s released since has been terrible then.

18: Portishead - Third (Universal/2008)

Has a track ever been more appropriately named than Portishead’s Machine Gun? It’s the musical equivalent of onomatopoeia; with the rapid-fire repetition of guitar sounding positively nihilistic. It’s examples of this appreciation of the minutiae that really mark out Third as something special and a world away from the dinner party trip-hop of Portishead’s 1990’s incarnation. There’s something curious at work, as the sounds that emanate from your speakers somehow seem to resemble language, expression, phrases and the phenomenon of life. It may sound horribly pretentious, but this record breathes. It’s a rare thing, electronica which is neither cold nor inhuman, but seems more organic than the majority of music untouched by electricity. Beth Gibbon’s fragile vocals are ideal, another instrument adding emotional fuel to the mix and when that synth riff comes in two-thirds of the way through The Rip, it’s game over. Sign me up for Pseuds’ Corner - I don’t care. Third is an example of what human artistry is capable of and what music can achieve.

19: Yo La Tengo: I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass (Matador/2006)

As Yo La Tengo represent everything hipster in the NY music scene, it’s easy to forget they actually make records and, on occasion, fantastic records at that. Never content to rest on their laurels, I Am Not Afraid… tackles myriad musical genres expertly while never succumbing to pastiche; something incredibly admirable considering the range of styles on display. Opening with the ten-minute feedback-drenched no-wave of Pass the Hatchet, I Think I’m Goodkind, you’ll be treated to horn-fuelled jaunty pop (Beanbag Chair), electro shoegaze (The Room Got Heavy), energy-fuelled garage rock (I Should Have Known Better) and piano-led ballads (Sometimes I Don’t Get You). Credit where credit’s due - this album never seems disjointed and the changes in style never forced. Inventive while maintaining pop sensbilities and easy to love - isn’t that what we all want from a record?

20: St. Vincent - Actor (4AD/2009)

St. Vincent frontwoman Annie Clark is a paradoxical figure. On one hand she seems porcelain-brittle, all cheekbones and a tiny pale frame with a sweet voice. However, put a guitar on her, and as a song builds, she transforms into a thrilling prospect; all jerky movements and discordance - a mirage you can’t take your eyes off. It’s this contrast of ideas that makes Actor the record it is; apparently the musical heir to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. It seems sugar-sweet on the outside, but fall down the rabbit hole and it’s a bewitching, transfixing mix of nightmare strings and unexpected notes, but all sitting side by side with fantastic pop melodies and unavoidable hooks. Single Marrow was possibly the track of 2009; a dream-like opening that floated in from nowhere before giving way to Clark’s desperate pleas for salvation soundtracked by a filthy horn riff. It sounded like Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough in a fairground hall of mirrors and like most of Actor, far better in practice than in theory.

The Best of the Decade: 30-21

21: Camera Obscura - Let’s Get Out of this Country (Merge/2006)

Wily Scots Camera Obscura neatly side-stepped out of the shadow of fellow countrymen Belle and Sebastian with this career-defining album. Both Camera Obscura and B&S have shorn their fey mentality in recent years for more bombast and a move towards the mainstream but Camera Obscura have pulled it off with more style and aplomb. Opener Lloyd, I’m Ready to be Heartbroken (a response to Lloyd Cole’s Are You Ready to be Heartbroken?) is a fizzy blast of sunshine pop which races along and implores you to keep up, If Looks Could Kill is choc-full of rama-lama glitz and the title track makes small-town ennui sound great fun. Frontwoman Tracyanne Campbell has never sounded so confident and assured and with Let’s Get Out of this Country, Camera Obscura have joined the elite and written one of the pop albums of the 21st Century.

22: The Decemberists - Picaresque (Rough Trade/2005)

Picaresque is the finest example of what The Decemberists do best - putting engrossing, literary stories to music. But as well as stop-you-in-your-tracks rockers like The Infanta and Sixteen Military Wives, there are tender laments like Eli, the Barrow Boy and Of Angels and Angles. This is before even mentioning nine-minute epic, The Mariner’s Revenge Song, which tells the tale of a young sailor dedicating his life to avenging his mother’s death courtesy of her vagabond partner. Those nine minutes take in jaunty rhythms, sea shanty, waltz time and what resembles a Zorba’s Dance to produce something which couldn’t be any band but The Decemberists. Picaresque is captivating from start to finish and works almost as well as a collection of short stories as it does a phenomenal album.

23: David Ford - I Sincerely Apologise for All the Trouble I’ve Caused (Independiente/2005)

After disbanding severely under-rated power pop trio, Easyworld, David Ford branched out into the solo world with this verbosely-titled album. Rumours are Ford was unhappy with his previous record label and the direction they wanted to take Easyworld, and this is the sound of one man’s frustration and fury at modern life. Righteous anger seeps from every pore, steadily rising and rising on State of the Union as Ford attacks anyone and everyone in a surprisingly erudite fashion. Ford has other strings to his bow though, and his touching recollection of a relationship where the fire died in A Long Time Ago could melt the hardest of hearts. Since the release of I Sincerely Apologise…, Ford has been on a seemingly non-stop tour and releases his third album early in 2010.

24: CSS - Cansei de Ser Sexy (Sub Pop/2006)

What too many artists seem to forget is that music should be as much about enjoyment as anything else. For Brazilian partygoers CSS, the enjoyment of life appears to pretty much be their ethos, for Cansei de Ser Sexy is an album about the good times, however depraved they may turn out to be. This album is packed full of alcohol-fuelled lust and has no inhibitions whatsoever - it’s basically a record about parties and fucking. Patins drips with I-want-you-right-now yearning, Art Bitch is possibly the most grotesque but compelling song you’ll ever hear and the hipster-baiting Let’s Make Love and Listen to Death From Above is one of the singles of the decade; if you don’t dance to it, check in and pick up your own death certificate. Refreshingly free of pretension and revelling in its own trashiness, Cansei de Ser Sexy is a blast of a good-time album.

25: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Fever to Tell (Fiction/2003)

Sometimes, you should believe the hype. In a post-Strokes world, it would’ve been easy to write off YYYs as another über-trendy New York band for the critics to get themselves in a tizzy about. Their début EP then showed promise (particularly the fantastic single, Bang) but Fever to Tell was even better than anyone expected. The first half of the album disappears in a blur as Karen O shrieks, purrs and yelps her way around Nick Zinner’s jagged riffs - each track exuding confidence, bluster and raw sex appeal. It’s easy to see why Karen O has become such an icon with her unique sense of style and withering putdowns of men who aren’t up to scratch. But before Fever to Tell becomes in danger of coming over all riot-grrrl, cracks begin to show in the façade. The tracks become slower and more introspective, culminating in the sonically stunning Maps, where O appears to be on the edge of tears as she insists “they don’t love you like I love you”. Imagine that, a lead singer who can carry the band, rock with the best of them but still reveal their human side. Fever to Tell announced to the world that a star had arrived.

26: Easyworld - Kill the Last Romantic (Jive/2004)

Ah, Easyworld. We all have our bands who we believe never got the attention, praise and sales they deserved and Easyworld are one of mine. Their début, This is Where I Stand, was rough around the edges but hinted at more to come. Kill the Last Romantic delivered on that promise, but in an unexpected fashion. Rather than build upon the power-pop sound they were known for, KTLR was a more grown-up pop record, using a wider range of instruments and featuring the odd piano ballad. Detractors may label it AOR, but it was every bit as enjoyable as its predecessor, but now with added pathos. 2nd Amendment is a 3-minute four-to-the-floor epic, Drive charts the helplessness of growing up almost perfectly and ‘Til the Day is that rarest of things - a declaration of undying love you can actually believe in. Kill the Last Romantic also has a couplet to stir the heart for bookends. When the final track (aptly titled Goodbye) builds and builds, the cymbals crash and make way for the same lines that open the album, it’s a spine-tingling moment up there with any album of the last decade.

27: The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (Warner/2002)

Nobody familiar with the Lips’ self-destructive, drug-fuelled space rock of the 1980s could have predicted the critical and commercial success that they would become in the 21st Century. Of course, it all began with The Soft Bulletin, their breathtaking masterpiece that arrived at the fag-end of the 90s. However, it was Yoshimi… that took them into the mainstream. The concept is more than a little ridiculous, but despite the abundance of robot themes and the massively distorted drums, it’s the human warmth that shines through on this album more than anything. The string arrangements seem to be choreographed to match sounds that stir human emotion (witness the coda of One More Robot/Sympathy 3000-21) and this album also gave us the most show-stopping line of the decade (“Do you realize that everyone you know some day will die?" from the initially fluffy and innocent sounding Do You Realize?? - now the state anthem of Oklahoma). Perhaps no-one will ever understand what goes on in their minds, but Yoshimi… demonstrates that The Flaming Lips know what’s going on in ours.

28: Arab Strap - The Last Romance (Chemikal Underground/2005)

Arab Strap are fantastic storytellers, though they tell you the stories you may not want to hear, for theirs is a world of regret, too much to drink, bad decisions and disappointment. Your opinion of The Last Romance could hinge on what you make of the opening line to first track, Stink (“Burn these sheets that we’ve just fucked in”). It may not be happy listening but there’s something about the relish in Aidan Moffatt’s voice that makes these tales of twentysomething dreams compelling. It may be somewhat unremarkable sonically (mostly the usual guitar/bass/drums setup) but the strength of the melodies really shines through though the star of the show is Moffatt’s acerbic, cutting wit. The Last Romance would cut short any party, but by yourself on a rainy day, it’s a cathartic and somehow uplifting experience, worthy of many a repeat listen.

29: The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow (Sub Pop/2003)

As I get older and hear more and more music, I start to reach the conclusion that more often than not, simplicity is king and what I really love is pop music. There’s clearly a place for your nosebleed techno and drill n’ bass “classics”, but nothing quite beats a well-crafted three-minute hook-laden, melody-driven, bona fide pop song. Chutes Too Narrow is the best example of this from the last decade, and possibly even longer. It follows a pretty standard verse-chorus-verse setup and isn’t going to change the world, but it’s so well-crafted and bursting with memorable melodies that it begs to be listened again and again. Some may deem it unworthy, and The Shins certainly have their detractors but this really is quality, timeless songwriting of the highest order. Just typing this paragraph has put Fighting in a Sack firmly in my head, and every time I hear a snippet of this album, I have to go back and play the whole thing. A victory for quality over style, reputation and other things that barely matter.

30: Martha Wainwright - Martha Wainwright (Drowned in Sound/2005)

The opening track of this album is beautiful, simply stunning and beyond my feeble words. For a proper explanation of why it’s so good, you should go here: http://bit.ly/5OrHSM. However, the rest of the album ain’t half bad either. Factory fades in like a half-awake dream and lazily rolls along like an hour on a beach, and This Life and These Flowers are similarly captivating. But don’t be fooled into thinking this is an album without balls, because Martha Wainwright has more attitude and feistiness than your average album. In fact, anyone titling a song about their father Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole is pretty confident, especially when said father is songwriter Loudon Wainwright III. Tracks such as Ball and Chain also pack a bitter, cutting edge. Wainwright’s voice is a fabulous instrument, capable of capturing the good and the bad, the rough and the smooth, and is never, ever dull. Ignore the males of the Wainwright family, Martha is the one to invest in.

The Best of the Decade: 40-31

31: Laura Marling - Alas, I Cannot Swim (EMI/2007)

At the beginning of 2007, the real answer to the “Adele or Duffy?” question that the music press were asking incessantly, was the secret third option, Laura Marling. Alas, I Cannot Swim is such a fine record, it’s practically impossible to believe its author was only in her teens. Whereas Adele and Duffy went for slick production and big vocals, Marling traded in understated windswept folk with a sweet voice that was the perfect bedfellow to her acoustic arrangements. Just because it’s folk, doesn’t mean it doesn’t have some guts - you wouldn’t want to be the ex that Marling trashes on Failure - and the whole album is clearly the work of someone who really believes in what they’re doing. In an industry where bright, young things are ten-a-penny, the smart money is on Marling to be the one who outlasts them all.

32: Nada Surf - Let Go (Heavenly/2002)

After Weezer made a promising start to the 21st Century with 2001’s self-titled “green” album, it was downhill from thereon. Thus, it was left to Nada Surf to write the power-pop album of the decade. Tracks such as The Way You Wear Your Head and Hi-Speed Soul are hook-laden sunshine pop classics, while slower numbers such as Blonde on Blonde and the epic Killian’s Red demonstrate an extra dimension that wasn’t present on previous album, The Proximity Effect. Every track on Let Go is an earworm waiting to be discovered, and once you’ve let this album into your life, you’ll be impervious to its charms and humming snatches of melody when you least expect it.

33: The Duckworth Lewis Method - The Duckworth Lewis Method (Divine Comedy/2009)

This is the best album made about cricket in the history of recorded music… but that’s not exactly strong praise. The Divine Comedy’s Neil Hannon and Pugwash’s Thomas Walsh teamed up in 2009 for an album that showed their affection for the game but you don’t need to be a fan of cricket to appreciate it, just a fan of good music. Taking their cue from the often-maligned 70s AOR of bands such as ELO, The Duckworth Lewis Method is a joy to behold. The production is warm and comforting, but that doesn’t mean it’s boring - one listen to fantastic lead single, The Age of Revolution, will confirm that. A synopsis of this album wouldn’t be complete without a mention of the peerless Jiggery Pokery - a music-hall romp which tells the story of Shane Warne’s famous ball in the 1993 Ashes series with a words-per-minute figure that would shame the average rap artist. Delightful, eccentric and fun; just like the album itself.

34: Mylo - Destroy Rock & Roll (Breastfed/2004)

Myles MacInnes of the Isle of Skye produced one of the dance anthems of the decade with Drop the Pressure, which was then reworked with the Miami Sound Machine to produce Dr. Pressure. What too few people discovered was the fantastic and imaginative album that the great track came from. Fusing old-school house with cutting-edge electronica and shades of chill-out ambience, Destroy Rock & Roll was that rarest of beasts: a dance album that can maintain your interest throughout its duration. Mylo used extensive sampling, but no sample proved more effective than the Church Universal and Triumphant list of “ungodly” 1980s artists for the title track, which was looped over a banging house loop. That track is demonstrative of the innovation of the man, a great producer who made an album ideal for the home or the club, and fingers crossed there’ll be a second album in the not-too-distant future.

35: Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes (Bella Union/2008)

With all the hype surrounding this record upon release, there was bound to be some sort of backlash, which there was. However, a year on, it becomes clear to see upon revisiting this record just why it caused such a stir. Fleet Foxes visit the alt-country of Crosby, Stills and Nash on their eponymous début but what really wins you over is the strength of the melodies and those irresistible three-part harmonies. Fleet Foxes seemed to be singing of a time that music forgot but somehow made you want to be there too and in He Doesn’t Know Why, created one of the most perfectly-formed songs on the decade. Only time will tell will happens for Fleet Foxes in the next decade but right now, they have the world at their feet.

36: Wilco - A Ghost is Born (Nonesuch/2004)

As this decade progressed, Wilco shed their previous alt-country image and became the music critics’ darlings. 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot may have been their breakthrough, but it’s A Ghost is Born which is the true career-defining album. This album is a slow-burner which may take time to reveal its charms but when it does, it’s astonishing the breadth of styles on show. The Krautrock motorik of Spiders (Kidsmoke), the brittle At Least That’s What You Said and the rocking I’m a Wheel showcase this variety, while subtle tracks like Handshake Drugs and Theologians are somehow heartbreaking yet simultaneously uplifting. With A Ghost is Born, Wilco elevated themselves to the next level and showed that they’re anything but your run-of-the-mill guitar band.

37: Dogs Die in Hot Cars - Please Describe Yourself (V2/2004)

Saddling yourself with an awful name is a great way to limit your career trajectory and so it proved when Dogs Die in Hot Cars disbanded after just one full-length album. But what an album it was. Please Describe Yourself picked up the baton from XTC and Orange Juice and ran with it into the 21st Century. Jerkier and twitchier than a child with ADHD on Christmas Eve, Please Describe Yourself is packed with sharp, direct, punchy tunes which never outstay their welcome. In a fair world, tracks such as I Love You ‘Cause I Have To and Godhopping would have rubbed shoulders with the pop elite near the top of the charts, but DDIHC proved there was more to them than just power pop with regret-tainted ballad Somewhat Off the Way. Fellow Scots Franz Ferdinand may have taken all the plaudits for reintroducing new wave to the mainstream, but this is the album that’s stood the test of time.

38: Ryan Adams - Love Is Hell (Lost Highway/2004)

Initially released as two EPs with minimal fanfare at the insistence of his record label, public demand meant that Love Is Hell was eventually given the single disc release it deserved. Unsurprisingly, Love Is Hell is not easy listening - it principally charts the descent of one man into his own private despair brought about by the death of a loved one - but it’s horribly compelling nonetheless. Adams seems constantly on the verge of tears throughout the majority of this album, but it’s that raw emotion paired with the delicate instrumentation that make this album so essential. Ostensibly the perfect (or, depending on your disposition, worst possible) lonely, late-night record, Love Is Hell is sewn together by Adams’ unique reading of Oasis’ Wonderwall; taking a bravado anthem and reducing it to its bare bones before squeezing every last drop of longing from it. It’s albums like Love Is Hell which remind you what a special talent Ryan Adams really is.

39: She & Him - Volume One (Double Six/2008)

Ugh. Reality TV, everybody being famous for five minutes, talent shows which invite you to sneer at the deluded, actors moving into music and vice versa - all bad things, right? Well, not necessarily, as Hollywood starlet Zooey Deschanel teamed up with indie royalty M Ward in the latter part of the decade to form duo, She & Him. It may sound a badly-contrived idea and you may expect Deschanel to be something of a passenger, but it’s a joy of a record with most of the songs written by the actress in question. The songs on Volume One also have an immediacy and pop sensibility too often lacking from M Ward’s other work, whether it be the 60s backing vocals of standout track Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? or the weaving of vocals and accompaniment on I Thought I Saw Your Face Today. Far better than it has any right to be, Volume One is the best album Conor Oberst never wrote and proves that Deschanel can change disciplines with comfort and ease.

40: Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan - Ballad of the Broken Seas (V2/2006)

After being a founder member of Belle and Sebastian and having a nice line in side-project folk albums, there were more likely collaborative partners for Isobel Campbell when she went fully solo than grizzled ex-Screaming Tree, Mark Lanegan. But opposites attract, so they say, and that was definitely the case on Ballad of the Broken Seas. Against your preconceptions, Campbell’s gossamer-thin whispers and Lanegan’s nicotine-dulled growl compliment one another perfectly. Plus the lightness of the arrangements (primarily the work of Campbell herself) and abundance of strings bring out qualities in Lanegan’s voice that it’s unlikely even he knew he had. On the title track, Lanegan croons “I’ll sing you a tale of the broken seas when I’m drowning in whisky and beer” and that sums up Ballads… perfectly - an album of beautiful stories and shanties tainted by regret, sadness and the promise of something greater. Unlikely bedfellows they may be, but a second album (Sunday at Devil Dirt) and a Mercury nomination for Ballads… show that maybe they knew what they were doing all along.

The Best of the Decade: 50-41

41: Amy Winehouse - Frank (Island/2003)

Before she overtook Kate Moss as the poster girl of heroin chic and while she still had some meat on her bones, Amy Winehouse was the little diva that could. Unfairly lumped in with Norah Jones and Katie Melua by the critics, Frank was infact a remarkably mature R&B flavoured début that chronicled what it meant to be a 21st Century woman in your 20s in the UK better than Lily Allen ever did. Frank tackles spineless men (Stronger Than Me), gold-diggers (Fuck Me Pumps) and unfaithfulness (I Heard Love is Blind) as if she has the life experience of someone twice her age. Back to Black may have been her breakthrough, but Frank is the real gem with its mix of late-night horns, 50s jazz stylings and contemporary R&B, and deserves to be appraised on its own merits rather than being compared to its more popular successor or reviewing the reputation rather than the music.

42: Eels - Blinking Lights and Other Revelations (Polydor/2005)

Always keen to appear on the outside looking in, Mark “E” Everett appeared to be committing commercial suicide releasing a 33-track double album telling the story of his tragic family history. However, Everett’s attention to detail, keen ear for a melody and gravely, yearning voice ensured that Blinking Lights… was a triumph. Tracks range from sparse and unsettling to rich and textured and - curiously, given its subject matter - listening to it is a life-affirming experience. While the rest of the decade may not have been so kind to Eels, this is Everett’s White Album - a towering, sprawling masterpiece which he’ll struggle to ever match.

43: Charlotte Gainsbourg - 5:55 (Warner/2006)

We can’t all call on Air, Jarvis Cocker and Neil Hannon to help with our album but then again, we don’t all have legendary music pioneer, the late Serge Gainsbourg, as our father. 5:55 may sound a terrible idea full of smug back-slapping on paper, but in fact, it’s the album equivalent of Sofia Coppola’s Lost In Translation. Girl with famous father confounds expectations to make beautiful piece of art which eschews traditional formats to tell the story of a mood and a place. While Coppola’s film charts the feeling of jetlag and loneliness in downtown Tokyo, Air’s score for 5:55 mark it as languid music perfect for the feeling of relaxation but still with a lingering suspicion of uncertainty. Gainsbourg’s barely-there, whispered vocals may be an acquired taste, but this gorgeous album avoids the pit-fall of most minimal chill-out albums by being consistently challenging and interesting.

44: Badly Drawn Boy - The Hour of Bewilderbeast (Twisted Nerve/2000)

It may be difficult to reconcile given his decline into virtual obscurity, but at the turn of the century, this Mercury-winning album meant that Damon Gough had the world at his feet. Self-confessed Springsteen devotee and an unlikely looking pop star, The Hour of Bewilderbeast showed what a dedicated student of pop music Gough was. The warm horns which open the album immediately make it stand out from the crowd and are the precursor for Gough raiding pop’s history and the musical box of tricks for an audio thrill-ride. Crucially, The Hour of Bewilderbeast succeeds where all of Gough’s subsequent albums have failed and has an emotional connection with the listener rather than the look-at-me kooky studio wizardry of later releases. Singles Disillusion and Once Around the Block were among the most catchy and best crafted songs of the decade and highlight the fact that it’s a loss for all of us if Damon can’t recapture his mojo.

45: Tindersticks - Can Our Love… (Beggar's Banquet/2001)

Tindersticks live in that odd world of groups who seem to effectively release the same album throughout their career (see also: Stereolab and Cocteau Twins), but what an album it is. If possible, Can Our Love… is even more introspective and brooding than their 90s back catalogue with its long tracks and ruminations on mortality. This, coupled with the prevalent Motown influences, give it more soul than any Tindersticks album before or since. Drums are lightly brushed, strings are dabbed and sounds are gently coaxed out of guitars and organ, Can Our Love… rarely gets above a whisper, but is simply beautiful. Standout track and album centrepiece, Sweet Release, could easily reduce you to tears; if there’s a track - and, indeed, album - which better demonstrates longing and loss, then I’ve yet to hear it.

46: Amanda Palmer - Who Killed Amanda Palmer? (Roadrunner/2008)

Sometimes albums can completely pass you by and you remain unaware of their charms until a much later date. That’s what happened with Who Killed Amanda Palmer?, an album recommended to me by a work colleague who was so convinced of this album’s merit, I was practically bullied into listening to it. With some records, that could have been a case for an employment tribunal, but luckily Who Killed Amanda Palmer? is an absolute blast of an album. Airing your personal issues in public has never seemed so vitriolic yet triumphant and while you’re unlikely to ever hear a more solipsistic collection of songs, its entertainment value cannot be denied. On tracks such as thrilling yelp-along Leeds United (“Who needs love when the sandwiches are wicked and they know you at the MAC store?”), Palmer throws in energy, the piano, all other instruments and then the kitchen sink, before throwing the piano and the kitchen sink at each other, but somehow, like all this album, it all works perfectly.

47: The Shins - Oh, Inverted World (Sub Pop/2001)

Get past the look-at-me-I’ve-read-books Marx-quoting album title and the minimal sleeve art and you’ll find The Shins have a released a straight-up, perfectly-formed pop album. In fact, that’s pretty much what The Shins did in this decade, and better than anyone else to boot. Oh, Inverted World may be bursting with 3-minute verse-chorus-verse pop songs with killer hooks, but that doesn’t mean that The Shins aren’t afraid to take risks and try something new. There’s no sugar coating on the disorienting squeaks that back Caring Is Creepy and on the peerless New Slang, The Shins are content to let the strength of the song and the melody speak to itself. Not a record that will initially blow you away, but one you find yourself coming back to again and again, and each time it’s more rewarding, revealing subtle nuances and quirks of arrangement that show The Shins know exactly what they’re doing.

48: Lewis Taylor - Lewis II (Island/2000)

How we could do with Lewis Taylor back right now. Taylor quit music and severed all ties with the industry part-way through the decade, presumably fed-up with the being hailed as the future of British soul music. The biz being the way it is, though, means this only adds to the myth and he remains as popular as ever, if not more. However, it’s the music where you should really be concentrating, as Lewis II is a remarkably assured piece of work, showing that it wasn’t out of the question that Lewis Taylor could be as good as Stevie Wonder. Sexy, sultry and confident, Lewis II displays the strut typically synonymous with his American contemporaries, such as Maxwell or D’Angelo and like them, he’s not afraid to transcend genres. There’s an awful lot of rock in, what is essentially, a soul album and he dovetails wonderfully with his backing singers to produce spine-tingling harmonies. Every track has a twist and every twist is worthwhile; now all we need is to track him down and ask him to reconsider his self-imposed exile.

(Can you find a YouTube video of Lewis Taylor? I certainly can't)

49: Incubus - Morning View (Epic/2001)

Music can be a remarkably personal experience, and chances are everyone has a landmark handful of songs or albums in their life which are pertinent to them for reasons that transcend the quality of what’s on the disc. For me, this is one of those albums. Morning View was released just as I was starting to get into music (I’d just turned 15) and was the right album at the right time. I took it to my heart immediately and listened to practically nothing else for the first three months I owned it. Several friends of mine had the same musical epiphany and we often reminisce about this time and its accompanying soundtrack. Now, not for a second would I claim Incubus are better than Radiohead, for example, but they’re unfairly maligned in my eyes, and lazily lumped in with the nu-metal shoutniks by critics. Morning View has plenty of straightforward hard rock, but there’s more to it than that: the funky bass on Are You In?, the lazy, irresistible riff of Just a Phase and the prog-like timing of Nice to Know You suggest greater forces at work. It may not be the decade’s defining masterpiece but it’s certainly worth revisiting from time to time, and not just for the nostalgic smile it gives me.

50: Hadouken! - Music for an Accelerated Culture (Atlantic/2008)

Like its similarly-doomed 21st Century forebearer, electroclash, “grindie” (a cross between grime and indie, as any fule kno) never really took off. Mainly due to the fact it was all hyperbole and no trousers, but in its short-lived day in the sun, it did produce one great album. Music for an Accelerated Culture is just that - a soundtrack for the Skins-generation and the perfect companion for gatecrashing a party you saw advertised on Facebook. It’s a relentless assault on the senses and completely thrilling, if a little exhausting for those of us out of our teens. Despite its hard-hitting attitude and bravado, it’s actually a charmingly naïve album and, as these things often are, so of-the-zeitgest that it already seems out-of-date in places (no-one goes on MySpace any more, granddad). It’s also a truly British album that includes insults such as “wally” in between expletives, sirens and crunching guitars. It’s debatable whether Hadouken! have any staying power, but they’re following a very British tradition of marrying cutting-edge innovation with a modern, everyday take on life. The real strength is that Music for an Accelerated Culture gives you the addictive, visceral rush that 99.9% of music fails to do and when you experience that, it‘s difficult to care about much else.

The Decemberists: Live

The Decemberists: Live at The Coronet, Elephant and Castle

How would you define confidence? The first entry on dictionary.com lists confidence as “full trust; belief in the powers, trustworthiness, or reliability of a person or thing”. Urban Dictionary states that confidence is “absolut could-care-fucking-less-what-every-fucking-body thinks” (well, they would, wouldn’t they?). But of all the myriad definitions, surely this ranks pretty high: how about releasing the album of the year, going on tour and then playing said album in its entirety as a warm-up to your own gig? Yep, The Decemberists sure have confidence – such an act fits both the definitions above – and on the evidence of their show at The Coronet, it most definitely isn’t misplaced.

The Elephant and Castle Coronet in South East London is primarily used for club nights rather than live gigs and only holds 2600. It seemed a pretty small venue for a Decemberists show, especially seeing as it was a sell-out weeks in advance and was one of only two London performances to promote The Hazards of Love (the other being at the even-smaller Kentish Town Forum).

The show opened – unsurprisingly – with Prelude, and cheers and whoops reverberated round the theatre as the various band members gradually wandered onstage. Colin Meloy’s guitar rang out the opening riff for The Hazards of Love #1 (The Prettiest Whistles Won’t Wrestle the Thistles Undone) and from that point on, it was non-stop. The Decemberists performed all seventeen tracks of The Hazards of Love without pause and without hesitation. The delicate, tender tracks (Isn’t It a Lovely Night?, The Hazards of Love #4 (The Drowned)) were given even more consideration and attention, while the more upfront, rock numbers (The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid, The Rake’s Song) were raced through with an urgent intensity. On Won’t Want for Love (Margaret in the Taiga), drummer John Moen went hell for leather, attacking his hi-hat and snare with both sticks simultaneously.

If you’re unfamiliar with The Hazards of Love (and if so, seriously, where have you been?), it’s basically a concept album. There’s a narrative arc throughout, centring around four main characters: two of which are voiced by Meloy, and the other two by guest vocalists Becky Stark of Lavender Diamond and Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond. Just to make it clear who’s good and who’s bad, Stark wore white and Worden wore black throughout the show and they were in fine voice, Worden in particular performing some applause-worthy vocal gymnastics on Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid.

As the final strains of The Hazards of Love #4 (The Drowned) died out, the crowd rose as one to give an ovation and Meloy said, “Hi, London, we’re the Decemberists,” before the band left the stage. People in the crowd were looking at each other in amazement as if to say “there’s more?!” and it was hard to imagine how such a spectacle could be matched.

The second half showed that, as well as being writers of extended pop fiction of the highest order, The Decemberists are the jauntiest band in music today. Their songs seem to trigger a Pavlovian response, where you can’t help but move in time to the bass, which is almost oompah-like at times. After an hour of solid music in part one, Meloy and the rest of the band engaged with the audience extensively in part two, and displayed their acumen as traditional all-round entertainers. There was a story of how violent The Elephant and Castle pub in Portland, Oregon is, which ended with the payoff, “so, really, I think you guys could’ve picked somewhere better to name this area after”, there was jazz improvisation between songs and there was even a singalong, where Meloy divided the crowd up (“hey, you there, yeah, you, step left, hey, everyone, this is Dennis, we take him everywhere”), got them to harmonise and then shifted the dynamics like an orchestra conductor.

Oh yeah, there were songs too: great, great songs. The Yankee Bayonet, O Valencia! and Sixteen Military Wives all got a great response. Admittedly, they didn’t play my favourite (We Both Go Down Together, since you’re asking) but I was too busy enjoying myself to really care. After what seemed like not long at all, they retreated backstage once more, leaving the baying crowd hungry, despite the fact an obvious return was imminent, as it always is in these situations.

Meloy returned solo and performed a heartfelt rendition of Eli, The Barrow Boy which had the packed venue almost silent in reverence before the other Decemberists returned. Meloy subsequently announced that for their last song, the crowd would need to “scream as if they were in the belly of a whale”, which triggered possibly the loudest cheer of the night. All five band members stood stage front (plus an inflatable killer whale, courtesy of some industrious soul in the crowd) and ripped through a high-energy version of The Mariner’s Revenge, which was a culmination of everything that had occurred over the previous two hours. There were highs, lows, noise, silence, screams, dancing, slow bits and fast bits, Russian Cossack dancing (evidently quite difficult whilst playing a double bass) and such ferocious drumming that by halfway through the song, the stage was strewn with drumstick and tambourine debris.

A shellshocked, buzzing throng then emerged into the autumnal London night and went their various ways home, all united by what they’d witnessed. That was my night with The Decemberists; they’ve finished their A Short Fazed Hovel (an anagram of The Hazards of Love) tour, so, um, sorry… you really should’ve been there, these paltry words are nothing like an adequate substitute.

Temporary Pleasure

Simian Mobile Disco - Temporary Pleasure
released 17 August 2009 on Polydor

If aliens were to land on our planet tomorrow, they’d probably waste no time asking the big questions. Why do we have wars? Why are some people obese while others die of starvation? Why - when he’s so unnecessarily rude to everyone - doesn’t someone punch Gordon Ramsey really hard in the face? However, this is a music review and since your humble narrator is fond of a whimsical flight of fancy, we can add another question to that list: what’s going on with the naming of music genres?

Pop music no longer means music that’s popular, R n’ B has long been devoid of anything approaching either rhythm or blues and what exactly is alternative music the alternative to? At least you always knew where you were with dance. The raison d’être of dance music was, rather unsurprisingly, to make you dance, and to hell with anything more noble or meaningful. However, the advent of superstar DJs and ubiquitous chill-out compilations has heralded a world where dance has branched out into countless variations, not all of which are fit for dancing.

Simian Mobile Disco could well fit into such a category. Along with groups such as Justice, they belong to a select group of more cerebral dance acts, which place as much importance on the detail as the beat or groove. They’re a combination of old-school dance and Kid A, and SMD’s commitment to the finer points was summed up by the title of their début album, Attack Decay Sustain Release.

The problem with such an approach is that there’s a danger of it all coming over as “art for art’s sake” and hard to love. SMD employ a wealth of additional vocalists for Temporary Pleasure, and on tracks such as the Gruff Rhys-led opener, Cream Dream, seem too in thrall to their guests to really let loose. Every click, tone and beat of Cream Dream is perfectly formed, the vocals are great but it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit more melody and, you know, something to dance to, maybe?

It’s a theme which crops up throughout the album. Temporary Pleasure suffers from relying too heavily on the singers to carry the song whilst SMD do all the clever, science stuff in the background. It’s only on vocal-less tracks such as the fantastic 10000 Horses Can’t Be Wrong that they show their true class. It’s a modern club classic with an irresistible riff (strangely reminiscent of Hot Butter’s Popcorn) and a perfect build-up, leading to an thrilling but agonising pause and the euphoria when the hook comes back in. The trick is repeated on the other stand-out track (and only other song without vocals), Ambulance, which has nightmarish, squonky synths in abundance.

As we go into the new decade, appearance and reputation are all important and let’s be honest, SMD are cool. They’re cooler than you and they’re a damn sight cooler than me, so on occasion, Temporary Pleasure can be hard to warm to. This is music for über-trendy LA clubs, where impossibly glamorous women bump and grind in gold, lamé micro-hotpants. Alas, anyone who has ever spent time in a town centre of the UK knows that a night out equals binge drinking, shrieking regional accents, a river of E number-filled, dangerously alcoholic vomit and a fat girl crying in a corner somewhere. It’s hard to see where Temporary Pleasure will fit in and who it’s for; the relentlessly catchy single, Audacity of Huge, namedrops like there’s no tomorrow (Mama Cass, Peter Tosh, Joey Ramone are all mentioned) - what will that mean to an inebriated teenager in a dingy club in Gateshead?

Luckily, there’s enough to keep you more than interested, if not jumping to your feet to shake yo’ thang. Miraculously, Beth Ditto doesn’t ruin the sultry Cruel Intentions, and shows that, oddly, she may be more suited to the role of ice-cool diva as opposed to her day job of screaming at all and sundry as if they’re personally standing in her way of control. Bad Blood sounds exactly like Hot Chip (no surprise, as it features Alexis Taylor) and Young Fathers provide a welcome change of pace on the hard-hitting Turn Up the Dial. Yet still, it’s all about image, and the lyrics to the whole of Temporary Pleasure are little more than repetitive, empty platitudes.

Maybe all this is the whole point, after all, you can over-think things. Turn the volume up, have a few drinks and this album would probably sound amazing. As it is, attempting to detail this record by scribbling down poorly-formed half-phrases in a notebook and expanding them out in a Word document seems out of step. Frank Zappa famously said that “writing about music is like dancing about architecture” and that may hold at least partly true for Temporary Pleasure. It’s not meant to be written about, it’s meant to be enjoyed. It’s trashy yet too self-conscious for its own good, it’s lovingly crafted yet ultimately hollow, it’s dance music which veers from so catchy you can’t help yourself to chin-stroking music to nod at and appreciate. To quote Morrissey, “it says nothing to me about my life”, but it could mean everything to you.