Snackin' On The Decade: Top Albums 5-1

Finally, we've reached the end of the road. To the literally dozens of you that have read my previous nine post of rants, I say thanks. Especially to those who made comments on the blog, Twitter or Facebook. It means a lot that you took the time and hopefully you found yourself at least mildly entertained.

On a personal note, this was much more rewarding than I ever thought it would be. I really started it as a chance for me to document my favorite albums, but it became a chance for me to reflect on my life. I wouldn't call it therapeutic, but it isn't too far from that. And I would encourage any of you to write about the things you are passionate about, even if it's just for yourself. I've gotten more out of it than I could have possibly imagined.

Thanks again. I wish you all a Happy New Year, Happy New Decade, peace, love, and happiness to all your friends and family. If you are jumping into the list here and want to enjoy from the beginning, the countdown starts here. Without further ado, here are the top 5 albums of the past decade:

5. Elephant - The White Stripes

This album marks the largest shift in my life this decade since it came out soon after I made the very large decision to move back to Dallas from Chicago. From the moment I made it, I knew it was the right thing. My girlfriend (now wife) was clearly the love of my life, and spending weeks apart was getting old. But that first summer after moving down was tough. I really didn't have any friends of my own in Dallas, so I was counting on Me'Cheal to not only be my lover, but my main source of entertainment. This is a tall order to fill since I was used to going out to different bars in a city like Chicago a couple of nights a week and seeing amazing concerts every week or two. So as those first few months in Dallas wore on, I got depressed, missing my life and friends back on the lake. Luckily time stands still between best friends and when you see them again, you just pick up from the moment you left off.

To me, this album sums up the energy of the magic that happens when all of those guys get together to this day. As the saying goes, "Separate, we are smart, collective, we are idiot." And we used Elephant as a soundtrack to two of the best weekends I ever had with my friends. One was in Vegas, where "Seven Nation Army" played every hour in the Hard Rock casino and Mark's wedding in South Carolina where we blew out the speakers of the rented minivan cranking this one to 11. We all have different tastes in music, but we have a sweet spot for the rock, and to say this album rocks is like saying Led Zeppelin's "When The Levey Breaks" drums are kinda kick ass. Jack and Meg put together the finest blues based rock album since Appetite For Destruction, and somehow did it with just guitars and kid-like drums. How the hell does this album sound so fucking huge?

The highlight for me is how "Black Math"'s crushing guitar riffs cut off at the end of the song with a slight moment of silence before a multi-track chorus of Jacks SCREAM with disgust at the nameless woman in "There's No Home For You Here Girl Go Away". I once heard that back centuries ago, theologians would get together and argue God's existence. The first person would make their case as emphatically as they could, and then the next person would do their best to build and so on. The ultimate goal was to get to a point where they were so filled with spirit that only silence could capture the mystery of such a divine deity. That's what's in that pause between these two songs. A moment of existential grace before ramping back up for more earthly punishment.

This grace is also seen when you are with your best friends and loved ones when there is silence. There's a beautiful bond that goes beyond anything I could ever even attempt to explain. Luckily Jack White can be my profit to explain it in his own unique way.

Elephant - The White Stripes

4. Gold - Ryan Adams

This is Ryan's 3rd album on my countdown - the only person to do so. Well, he did have a better chance than most artists of making the list that many times by just producing so much music. Hell, in one year he put out 3 releases, and one was a double album. So Ryan will go down as my favorite artist of the decade, although he did kind of limp to the finish line with weaker and more infrequent releases in the last couple of years. But a wins a win, and he most rightfully deserves his title by being the man who wrote the soundtrack to my life for 10 years.

For most people, Gold isn't Ryan's best album. They immediately go to the more introspective Heartbreaker. Great choice by them (as can be seen by my #19 placement of it). But for me, this is the album I put on and really enjoy from beginning to end with more frequency. I think there are two main factors.

First is because the album isn't so introspective. It sounds much more like a book of short stories dripping in Americana allusions. Sure, it has it's personal moments like "Sylvia Plath" where Ryan plays solo piano and weeps to fall in love with trouble. I've always loved that song because it's a classic young folly to crave the girl with issues. I know my greatest heartbreaks in my younger years were with girls I wanted to help and comfort. That hero complex is death, but it sure sounds sexy when put to a few simple chords. For the most part, though, the album is scene after scene with other people and sometimes even places (like "New York, New York" and "Goodnight, Hollywood Boulevard") starring in the lead role. All these stories make this as re-listenable as your favorite movie on TNT each Saturday afternoon. I've gained a comfort with it that always brings a smile to my face.

Secondly, Ryan proved early on that he was just as much a fan of music as he is an artist using it to express himself. This manifested itself in one of my favorite memories where in the middle of a concert, Ryan went off stage and grabbed a portable record player. He puts on a Replacements album, put a mic to the little speaker, and just lets it play for a song. Sure, he was probably high out of his mind, and some people did boo because that's the last thing they paid their hard earned money to see. But it made me think - he's just like me. He will sit there and analyze each song not just for its musical integrity, but for the existential meaning behind it's existence. He knows an album ceases to be the artist's the second it hits the listeners ears. This thinking is a disease and a gift. For him, he's able to take that critical ear and prolifically turn it into his own art. But instead of blazing strange new trails, he's able to take all those influences and re-create the warm feeling of his favorite albums. I think he did that best on Gold.

Gold - Ryan Adams

3. Kid A - Radiohead

So many of my main online music resources have this album at number one for the decade. I think from a global historical sense, it's the right choice. No album was more anticipated when it came out, and no album was more influential in creating the open canvas indie musicians would use to create the great music of the next 10 years than this one. But like other such influential albums, it could never be topped. In all honesty, I think the album drags at the end. That's why it could never top my list. But the first four songs are the best Side A in musical history.

First, you hear the warm blips of chords, then the distorted, chopped and screwed voice comes in. And quickly you are transported to the most desolate place on earth. You are in a flat field staring at the white mountains on the cover of this album. "Everything In It's Right Place" grounds the paranoia throughout this album in less than a bar. It's absolutely unbelievable the mood created in the first song. "Kid A" comes in after to even further isolate you from the world with soaring noise and now a completely distorted voice. Where the hell are we? Is it hell?

That question is answered in song 3. "The National Anthem", after two songs with ambient hearts hits like two towers falling in the heart of a great american city. Welcome to the USA at the dawn of a new Millennium. "Anthem" in retrospect feels like a declaration about the direction we are headed. A warning bell about a fall of a once great nation. Finally, "How To Disappear Completely" takes all this build up, adds an acoustic guitar to symbolize humanity, and puts you as the first person in what its like to live in this new world order. It's confusing, dark, isolated, and infinitely sad.

I can remember the first time I heard this song. I was sitting in my cube at Hewitt Associates in Lincolnshire, Illinois. The cube I was in had a tan desk, tan walls (which you were encouraged to keep blank), tan computer with tan monitor sides. I'd walk out of it on tan carpet while static white noise, much like the sound at the end of "Kid A" was pumped down on me from speakers throughout the building. It was a sterile environment for uninspiring work. A place where depression takes hold, and doesn't let go. Lyrics like, "That there. That's not me," took an especially significant weight in that moment. The song went from CD to laser to computer to headphones to my soul. Luckily I did something about it and got the hell out of there by the end of that year. This album will always takes me back to that place, as well as help me reflect on every bad thing that happened to this nation the the years since. I can't listen to it all the time, but I'm glad its there for perspective.

Kid A - Radiohead

2. Funeral - Arcade Fire

Again, this album tops a lot of critics lists of the decade. And really, the difference between 1 and 2 for me are so small, that they could easily be switched at any given moment. Where Radiohead's Kid A is like a documentary in the way it congers up images to set mood, Funeral is more like a fantasy. This whimsical style works so well as the foundation of the children's stories told throughout the album. And like a good fairy tale, there's joy and sadness, adventure and introspection. And what an epic story Winn Butler and the massive Arcade Fire team tell.

I don't use the word epic lightly here. More than any other album of my lifetime, this album is gigantic. First, they take the best stadium-sized anthemic calls from U2 and paster them throughout. They beg for you to scream them out. Then, they use their own size as a bad (around 10 people) to build a sound that you can ride like a wave.

In this decade I saw Arcade Fire two times live. The first was on the hottest day in history at Austin City Limits. They had the punishing 5 o'clock spot on the North stage that take a beating from the sun that time of day. Temperatures were well above 105, and they came out in their full 1920s Sunday best garb, played with clear reckless abandon for an hour. I honestly thought the multi-insrumentalist that plays the old-time side-hip marching band snare drum passed out and died during "Power Out!". It was a scary good performance. So good, Chris Martin of Coldplay actually worked a lyric into one of his songs the next night about how it was the most amazing show he ever saw. (I think you can hear how much that show meant to him on Viva La Vida! to varying effect). At the end of the Arcade Fire show that day, the band is blowing through a version of "Rebellion (Lies)" that could incite a riot. On the last note, Winn yells out, "YOU'VE BEEN LIED TO" and throws the mic to the ground. And at that moment, Arcade Fire emphatically became my favorite band.

Anyway, the next time was two years later as the headliner of Austin City Limits Saturday night. Going in, I promised I was going to give to them just as much as they gave to me that first show. So from the moment they went on stage, I went absolutely bonkers. Honestly, I can't even describe the tantric joy I experienced for the next hour and fifteen minutes. I can remember jumping up and down, singing from the bottom of my stomach, and letting the moment wash over me. Towards the end, I heard from behind me in the massive crowed my good friends Michael and Rachel yelling at me while standing in blocked-off sound booth space. They said they noticed this crazy person jumping up and down through the first part of the show from a distance. What they finally put together was that that person was me. We got to stand there together and share a moment while Arcade Fire led us all in the massive sing-along "Wake Up". The best moment I've ever had at a concert? Quite possibly. Much like that song, now that I'm older, my heart has grown colder. It's the paradox of adulthood where you see and feel the accumulation of life's adventure - good and bad. That bad can so often wear you down. So moments like that show on the lawn at Zilker park are that much more appreciated.

Funeral - Arcade Fire

1. I'm Wide Awake It's Morning - Bright Eyes
Ah, number 1. If you are close to me, you probably already knew this would top the list. I've loved it since the minute it came out. But for others, you may be saying "What?" or even "Who?" But more than any other album in this list, it benefits from coming into my life at the right place and time.

So it's early 2005. I've been in love for three years, living in Dallas for two, married for a few months, and finally working at a job and with people that I love and admire. Life is more than good - it's great. But I'm still kind of finding my sea legs in this new reality, and missing my best friends in Chicago. To me, the moment I left Chicago, time stood still. Even though in reality my friends kept growing and evolving, in my mind they were all out together a couple of times a week having the time of their young lives. I was longing for a reality that no longer existed. I knew I no longer wanted that life, but it didn't stop me from missing it. A lot.

Then this album comes out. I already had Bright Eyes' Lifted..., and loved it (number 33 on my list). But that album is big in scope. Wide Awake, in contrast, is laser focused. These stories are all about that moment when you wake up on the mattress on your one-bedroom apartment with booze seeping out of your pours and realize this must come to an end. But just because you recognize it's time for a change, doesn't mean you know what to do next. This album is ten tracks full of all the feelings you go through from that moment of clarity until your life begins anew.

Lua is the perfect example of this. Back when I was single in Chicago, I remember a specific night where I went out with a bunch of friends, including this beautiful, older (probably 28 at the time) woman who was a good two inches taller than me and way out of my league. Well, somehow she got tipsy enough at Rainbow Room to invite me back to her place that night. We talked like drunks do about music and romance. And finally after a few hours of what seemed like philosophical discussion, we headed back to her room. In there, we made out a little until John Mayer "Your Body Is A Wonderland" came on. She began to tell me about how this was the most perfect song ever written and began to sign it softly in my ear. And at that point, I put it all together that this girl was certifiably nuts. We just kind of kissed a little more before she passed out, and I laid there with my arm trapped under her pillow trying to figure out how the hell to get out of there. Finally at the crack of dawn on a typically damp grey Chicago morning, I softly maneuvered out of her bed, grabbed my coat in the hallway, and precoded to walk home from Wrigleyville two miles to my place at North and Halstead. On that walk, I had no music to listen to. This as before the omnipresent iPod. But as soon as I heard Lua years later, it became the soundtrack to that moment. On that walk home, I knew I couldn't continue this life. It was leading me nowhere. But I was still a year from figuring out how to get my life on track to put me in a place where I could have someone as wonderful as my wife come into it and have the confidence in myself necessary to make love really work.

Back to 2005, this album became the bookmark to the life I had given up. A way for me to remember why I allowed myself to overcome the self-doubt of youth to become a man. So when I did miss my old friends and old life, I could put this on and let those old sad feelings rush over me, but still allow me to escape to the beautiful here and now by just pressing pause.

Finally, the one song that pushes this album to the top of my list is "The First Day Of My Life". This little lullaby originally was a song that conjured up memories of Me'Cheal and I walking in the snow in Chicago when we were first dating. But that all changed early in the morning January 23, 2007 when Caleb Michael Kerski was born. That was the first day of both our lives. And even though life doesn't seem to be as hyper-emotional as it did a decade ago (with less "Wonderland"-type stories coloring it in), it has only gotten better with this little guy in my life. Some day I hope Caleb will get to pick out a song that will forever tie to the moment his child is born. Hope really is the emotion that drives me each day to be better at all things. And no album this decade has transformed from the sadness of the past to the hope of the future for me like this one has.

I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning -...