RIYL: Emmylou Harris, Linda Rondstadt, Tift Merritt

Weaving her way through the series of hard-luck stories that illuminate Crows – her much-anticipated follow-up to last year’s critically acclaimed Mockingbird – Allison Moorer cries foul on any number of subjects, among them broken hearts, leaving lovers and all manner of ills in general. Apparently life for Mrs. Steve Earle is no bed of roses, and with song titles like “Just Another Fool,â€� “The Broken Girl,â€� “Should I Be Concerned,â€� “When You Wake Up Feeling Badâ€� and “Sorrow (Don’t Come Around),â€� it’s clear she has numerous thoughts that need venting.

Then again, Moorer’s music rarely dwells on optimism. Over the course of her eight albums, Moorer’s reflected a worrisome perspective, belabored by ongoing remorse, disappointment and despair, as well as an ache and a yearning that often keeps her focus somewhat removed. Crows essentially offers more of the same, from the troubled rumblings of “Abalone Sky� and the plaintive repose of “Easy in the Summertime� to the acrimonious dismissal of “Sorrow (Don’t Come Around)� and the scorching break-up ballad “Still This Side of Gone.� The mournful sentiments create an air of unrelenting sadness, yet one that still allows the beautiful melodies to shine through. Suffice it to say, those who were smitten by Mockingbird will find Crows a similar bird of a feather. (Ryko 2010)

Allison Moorer MySpace page

RIYL: Jenny Lewis, Cocteau Twins, Patty Larkin

After nearly a decade attempting to make their name among L.A.’s alternative elite, the Watson Twins scored their big breakthrough when they were chosen by Rilo Kiley’s Jenny Lewis to share the billing on her first solo outing, Rabbit Fur Coat, in 2006. Since then, they’ve been able to carry the marquee rights on their own, earning themselves a deal with the venerable Vanguard label, which released last year’s major label debut, Fire Songs and subsequently, an even better sophomore set.

Despite their down-home Appalachian upbringing, the sisters lean less on heartland sentiments and more on urban rock sensibilities, a modernist approach that places the emphasis on propulsive rhythms and eclectic arrangements to bolster their dreamy harmonies. In the course of these dozen tracks, the Watsons’ vary their vocals between the languid and the assertive, with melodies that veer from ethereal hymns to those that sound positively chipper by comparison. So while songs like “Forever Me,� “Snow Canyons� and “Give Me a Chance� tend to cast the album in a meditative haze, the pronounced stomp of “Savin’ You� and “U-N-Me� bolster the bottom line and add the emphasis that’s needed. (Vanguard 2010)

The Watson Twins MySpace page

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9. Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Fever to Tell
Oh yeah, and their first album wasn’t half bad, either.

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

RIYL Cassandra Wilson, Grace Potter, Patty Larkin

Advance word to the contrary, Norah Jones’ fourth album shows a marked change in approach but little difference in attitude. Stirring up the ambiance with synths, effects, beats and a general trend towards more modern programming tools, Jones lays out a steady series of laments about traitorous lovers and ruined relationships with a distinct emphasis on disillusionment in general. Titles like “Stuck,â€� “I Wouldn’t Need Youâ€� and “You’ve Ruined Meâ€� offer an early hint of her malfunctioning mindset, but lines like “If I touched myself the way you touched me…then I wouldn’t need you,â€� speak directly to her disappointment. Conversely, the carnival-like atmosphere of “Chasing Pirates,â€� the practically jaunty “Tell Yer Mamaâ€� and the propulsive duo of “Young Bloodâ€� and “It’s Gonna Beâ€� prove a welcome respite from the deathly serious tact that Jones helped trademark on her three earlier albums.

And while there’s still ample evidence of that wounded, torch song set-up imbued in “Manhattan,â€� “Even Though,â€� “I Wouldn’t Need Youâ€� and “Waiting,â€� even her more sobering perspectives seem somewhat more illuminated, given fuller arrangements that detract attention from her solitary keyboard and instead steer the proceedings towards the emphatic strum of her electric guitar. Ending the album on a lighter note that finds her offering an ode to her dog – the winsome “Man of the Hourâ€� – shows that for her all her trepidation and turmoil, Jones has the capability of picking herself up, no matter how serious the fall. Blue Note 2009

Norah Jones MySpace page

RIYL: Donovan, Marc Bolan, Veviter

Toiling within the ranks of the indie underground, Devendra Banhart has managed to elevate himself into the highest ranks of the so-called “freak folk� hierarchy. His last album, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, made a pitch to expand that tag, with Banhart attempting to meld his obtuse approach with the idyllic imagery of the L.A. environs that spawned such ‘60s lynchpins as Neil Young, CSN, the Mamas and the Papas, Joni Mitchell, and various others that made music in those hallowed hills. Likewise, his recruitment by the majors – in this case, Warner Bros. records, home to many of those aforementioned icons – seemed to indicate a concerted effort to break through the barriers.

Indeed, while Banhart’s new label affiliation might seem a concession to commercialism, in truth, the results are every bit as eclectic…and, for that matter, every bit as eccentric…as his earlier efforts. The songs are sung in both English and Spanish, and rather than the clear, coherent melodies identified with the so-called Southern California elite, Banhart still shifts his set-ups – often radically and in the space of a single song. Consequently, “Ratsâ€� has a somewhat foreboding start before segueing abruptly into a state of kinetic jubilation. The jazzy inference of “Chin Chin & Muck Muckâ€� morphs several times before the song hits its stride. Likewise, “Angelikaâ€� might have succeeded as a soothing serenade had it not accelerated midway through into a sizzling Latin samba.

Still, for all his abrupt turns, Banhart retains a decidedly old school stance. His melodies may seem somewhat amorphous, but his quivering vocals and loping tempos frequently recall the pixie-like warble of Donovan and Marc Bolan. A couple of tracks might bode well for future sing-alongs, specifically “16 & Valencia Roxy Musicâ€� and the gentle Spanish serenade called “Brindo.â€� As an album that’s magnified by ambition and grand designs, What Will We Be may well be his best yet. (Warner Bros. 2009)

Devendra Banhart MySpace page
Click to buy What Will We Be from Amazon

RIYL: Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Janis Ian

It seems but a blink of the eye when in reality it’s been three decades since Rickie Lee Jones scored her breakthrough hit, “Chuck E.’s In Love,� and subsequently garnered her Grammy for Best New Artist. In the 30 years since, Jones has mostly flown below the radar, at least in terms of her commercial appeal, but her sassy, soulful style continues to leave its imprint and make her a recurring staple. Jones has always seemed most comfortable playing the role of both barfly and ingénue, crooning twilight ballads with a knowing air of cool and sophistication, while also taking sharp turns at practically every juncture.

Its not surprising then that those disarming glances haven’t necessarily helped tug Jones back into the mainstream. So consider it fortunate that her new album, the uniformly pleasing Balm In Gilead, again finds her at the top of her game, vamping with versatility through a surprisingly disparate set of songs. No longer the shadowy chanteuse, she proves here that her pull is still intact. Encompassing songs that were written years, and even decades, before, the album gathers some of the best songs she’s authored in years. While her devotees will find the smoky barroom vibe of “Old Enough,â€� “The Moon Is Made of Goldâ€� and “Eucalyptus Trailâ€� akin to a reassuring refrain, her country croon on “Remember Meâ€� and ambient drone of the stirring “His Jeweled Floorâ€� show an obvious willingness to expand her parameters into more accessible terrain. Toss in some beguiling ballads – “Bonfire,â€� “Wild Girlâ€� and “A House on Bayless Streetâ€� – and Balm In Gilead becomes a soothing salve indeed. (Fantasy 2009)

Rickie Lee Jones web page
Click to buy Balm in Gilead from Amazon

RIYL: Denison Witmer, Jeff Buckley, Adam Cohen

A chip off the old rock? Well, not exactly, although admittedly Sam Shrieve shares his dad’s penchant for making a mark at an early age. The elder Shrieve was, of course, the frenetic drummer for the first Santana band, the youngest musician to play Woodstock and the piercing on-camera presence that practically stole the show from his colleagues. Young Sam takes a more refined route and while his glamorous good looks are obviously destined for full exploitation, his music is considerably more cerebral than either dad’s tribal tempos or than the typical pinup poser. Consequently, Bittersweet Lullabies proves an apt title for these pleasant soft pop musings, alternately celebratory (“Beautiful,� “�Kiss You,� “I’m Sorry�) and unabashedly sentimental (“Welcome to Your Life,� “�I’ll Be There,� “�Sanctuary�). An aching take on the oft-covered “Hallelujah� actually cuts through the competition and fits perfectly in the mix, as sure a sign of Shrieve’s proficiency as any of his originals. A solid support cast, including veterans Bill Frisell and Lyle Workman, lend additional credibility, but Sam’s the man when it comes to carrying the bulk of the musical weight. Dad must be proud, although wondering where the rhythm went. Nevertheless, this impressive initial outing carries a weight all its own. (Colorburst Soundfield 2009)

Sam Shrieve MySpace page

RIYL: Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Daniel Johnston

Documenting a solo concert in San Francisco, Vic Chesnutt revisits his roots and goes back to basics with this stark example of shadowy introspection. Accompanying himself with mostly a subdued strum of his acoustic guitar and the incidental input of the enigmatic Jonathan Richman on guitar and harmonium and drummer/percussionist Tommy Larkin, he meanders through a troubling set of dark and dire melodies. Yet, despite this turgid set-up, Chesnutt populates his rumbling, meandering narratives with oddball hi-jinks, from the bizarre homage entitled “Dick Cheney� to the roll call of weirdos delineated in “Worst Friend� (“Your friend likes to get peed on in sexual situations… Your friend dresses up like Little Bo Peep… Your friend claims to have taken a dump in the White House…�). Likewise, the palpable anger that ripples through “My New Life� affirms the depth of these ominous overtones and moots any connection with the crowd. Quirky yet austere, Skitter on Take-Off provides what’s best described as an intimidating encounter. (Vapor Records 2009)

Vic Chesnutt web page

RIYL: Galaxy 500, The Innocence Mission, The Sundays

Call it music for insomniacs. Or anyone else that needs to catch up on their sleep. The second solo album by Hope Sandoval, late of ethereal ingénues Mazzy Star, not only maintains the same hazy drift and downcast drone of her former colleagues, but actually manages to take whatever minimal energy they mustered down another notch. Hushed and lethargic, Sandoval conveys a haunting, unhurried sound that’s immersed in spectral surroundings, contemplative musings and the occasional ominous overtones. Given their narcotic and nocturnal sensibilities, Sandoval and company seem hard-pressed to make a more emphatic impression, and even those songs that pass for sensual dreamscapes barely register beyond any cerebral set-ups.

Consequently, willowy offerings like “Blanchard,� “For the Rest of Your Life� and “Sets the Blaze� are more celestial than sublime, not exactly the type of thing that makes a lingering impression once the haze is lifted. So forget any notion of a sing-along. There’s not much of the Devil in these details. (Nettwerk 2009)

Hope Sandoval MySpace page

The eighth annual Austin City Limits Music Festival was apparently unlike any that preceded it, due to the dates being pushed back from September to early October. This meant that temperatures were not sweltering into triple digits. The lawn at Zilker Park had also received a fresh facelift of “golf course�-quality grass, to help cut down on dust complaints. This made for an idyllic first day of the festival, when the high temperature was just above 80 degrees. But persistent rain on the second day brought a new obstacle to deal with – mud, and lots of it. Much of the park was a mucky mess by the third day, even after the rain had stopped, although without the new grass the park probably would have been one giant mud pit. No one was really complaining about the rain though, since Texas has been suffering through its worst drought in 50 years. Neither rain nor mud nor fatigue would deter 70,000 music fans from getting their fill – this is, after all, the “live music capital of the world,� due to the fact that Austin hosts more music venues per capita than any other city.

The festival featured an incredibly diverse line-up, covering just about every genre under the sun. Those with the stamina and inclination could also check out after-show parties, featuring a number of festival bands playing late night shows at clubs around town. And in one of the greatest festival amenities of all time, ACL even had a football tent that made it possible, at certain times, to watch football and music at the same time! With eight stages (if you included the Austin Kiddie Limits stage), it was a weekend of tough choices – Ghostland Observatory vs. the Dave Matthews Band, Coheed and Cambria vs. Phoenix, Medeski Martin and Wood vs. the Avett Brothers, the Decemberists vs. Sound Tribe Sector 9, Ben Harper & Relentless7 vs. Dead Weather, etc. But having too many options is all part of the fun.

Friday, October 2
School of Seven Bells, Livestrong Stage
The combo of twins Ally and Claudia Deheza with former Secret Machines guitarist Benjamin Curtis makes for a trio that puts out a big sound despite taking the stage with just two guitars and a synthesizer. The Deheza sisters deliver dreamy harmonies that resonate in majestic fashion when mixed with a variety of synthesizers, mostly up-tempo beats and lots of echo and reverb. Their voices were occasionally in danger of getting obscured in the wet sound mix, but the overall effect was impressive in the way the sisters’ voices approximated an angelic choir.

Blitzen Trapper, Dell Stage
The Portland-based sextet has been building a strong buzz over the past couple years and this drew a big crowd to check out the band’s rootsy but still rocking sound. Some of the tunes were more acoustic-flavored, while others had an Americana blues rock flavor that recalled Ryan Adams & the Cardinals or Conor Oberst. The band’s melodic hooks and soulful vocals were a hit, with “Big Black Birdâ€� making a particular impression as electric guitar, harmonica and melodic vocals combined for one of the set’s catchiest tunes.

The Avett Brothers, AMD Stage
This was the second biggest stage and while the Avett Brothers’ unique brand of Americana, melodic pop and punk energy has made them a rising buzz band, their sound didn’t seem to translate so well to such a large venue. Playing to tens of thousands of people with just banjo, upright bass and acoustic guitar is definitely a challenge. I would have ventured closer to the North Carolina band to see if that made any difference, but I couldn’t help but feel pulled away to the Livestrong Stage.