Ryan Adams: Most likely to succeed
Of course, there is no indication that any album of consequence was actually released in late December, but cribbing ideas from everyone else's lists was certainly helpful.
Indeed, the process of compiling such a list immediately changes the dynamic of the way one perceives music. What is essentially a matter of taste becomes an exercise in forcible catholicity, not to mention seeming hip. Trying to balance "important" albums and those that will actually provide enduring pleasure can effectively subvert the whole point of the art form, which is the personal, almost physical interaction with the muse. Checking out albums that I might not normally hear is all for the good, but no amount of research is going to make you tap your foot.
Charlie Parker famously said that the key to playing jazz was to master your instrument thoroughly, then forget all that stuff and just play. The same is true for the listener: While curiosity and an open mind are essential attributes for the knowledgeable consumer, it's what ends up playing on your stereo all the time that determines your musical worldview. Thus old-school tunesmithery prevails here, as it did on my CD player all year. Herewith, a selection of 20th-century music that rang my bell:
1. Aimee Mann, "Bachelor No. 2, or the Last Remains of the Dodo" Gorgeous hooks and bittersweet attitude to spare. Nothing involving the marriage of melody and lyrics (the basis for songs, last I checked) beat "Red Vines" in these ears this year. Throw in the Oscar nomination for "Magnolia" (inexplicably defeated by the odious Phil Collins entry), a tour with hubby Michael Penn and a worthwhile best-of collection including highlights from her 'Til Tues-days, and it was a banner year for the prickly princess.
2. Shelby Lynne, "I Am Shelby Lynne" After a slew of corporate efforts that I and most everyone else never heard, Lynne jettisoned the Nashville production line and the cookie-cutter country cutie bag and made an album of deeply sultry roots-pop music that touches on everything from Dusty Springfield soul to down-home slide guitar blues. Tapping the crucial lode where familiarity and freshness commingle, the whole thing was written and played by Lynne and Bill Bottrell, who demonstrates that his tenure in Sheryl Crow's Tuesday Night Music clubhouse was no fluke.
3. Neil Young, "Silver and Gold" More of the same from the acoustic half of old Neil's brain, which is to say some ineffably sad and beautiful ruminations on aging and the meaning of life — which, the Canadian curmudgeon tells us, is love. If I were you, I'd believe him. Anyone looking for an arresting profile of a guy with a history of significant adversity and zero tolerance for b.s. would be well advised to check out the hourlong documentary on Young that aired this year. In an era when "keeping it real" is the mantra for every studio-created pretender, it's worth being reminded what "real" really is.
4. Pat Metheny Trio, "Live" The preeminent jazz guitarist of his generation avoids the impression of almost fussy prettiness that has sometimes crept into his studio albums by laying it down live in this marvelous double CD. Thing is, he really does sound that smooth, and boy can he play. More importantly, he is as comfortable wailing on the guitar synth like some 21st-century muezzin as he is ripping it up on a chestnut such as "All the Things You Are." With one foot in the future and the other in the past — and the compositional chops to provide the essential context that separates musicians from riffmongers — Metheny is doing more than his share to keep jazz guitar looking forward.
5. Ryan Adams, "Heartbreaker" An old soul in a young man's frame, the former front man for Whiskeytown escapes typical record-company cranial paralysis with this fine solo outing on the Bloodshot label, home to some of Americana's brighter young lights (see below). The studio banter that kicks things off typifies the spontaneity of the whole affair, which has a refreshingly live quality reminiscent (sometimes quite deliberately so) of "Bringing It All Back Home"–era Dylan. But the melancholy turn of the best tracks, especially "Amy," are what really earns this boy his stripes, and his CD its title.
6. Neko Case and Her Boyfriends, "Furnace Room Lullaby" The female counterpart to #5, Bloodshot stablemate Case brings the rocking twist to modern country that Geffen spent millions trying to buy for Maria McKee. Case's studiously art-directed image belies a fundamental passion and a noteworthy set of pipes that cut to the chase in a satisfying set of tunes penned by the new wave cowgirl and her chaps.
7. Steely Dan, "Two Against Nature" Nothing remotely like Becker and Fagen had come along in the 18 years since their last record, and the ease with which they got back in their uniquely alienated groove was a tonic to their contemporaries. Funky and sly, "Two" also gave glimpses of a previously untapped affinity for the human touch from the hermetic duo.
8. XTC, "Apple Venus Vol. 2" Although not quite on a par with the glory days of "Skylarking" or "Black Sea," the more rocking bookend to "Vol. 1" still stood out from the crowd with its riff-happy guitar-driven tunes and Andy Partridge's exceptional lyrical prowess. "Playground" is a textbook example of smart pop songwriting, which in the age of Britney Spears is increasingly becoming an oxymoron.
9. Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks, "Beatin' the Heat" The comeback album from the '70s legend was one of the year's best surprises, with a batch of tunes almost as catchy, breezy and funny as those of his prime. An all-star cast of guests (Costello, Setzer, Midler) provides some spice, but Hicks sets the table all by himself.
10. Eminem, "The Marshall Mathers LP" For a listener with an admittedly limited affinity for the genre, Slim Shady's passion and lyrical virtuosity commanded, if not a place in the heart, at least a somewhat anxious acknowledgment that something is indeed going on here. Fast, funny and literally furious, the Elvis to Dr. Dre's Sam Phillips gives a whirlwind tour of a seriously conflicted young superstar's mind, while holding up an in-your-face mirror to the public's idolatrous expectations. His hostility comes off as personal beefs directed at particular individuals rather than undifferentiated hatred — there's as much confession here as declamation — and if the cinematic depictions of violence are disturbing, so are Martin Scorsese's, only Marty doesn't usually make me laugh. Eminem might as well have "caveat emptor" tattooed on his forehead; any album that starts with "I'm Slim Shady and I'm going to kill you" should be taken with a heavy dose of salt — let's just hope that that bitterness doesn't overwhelm the next one.