2006: A Music Retrospective

I've been thinking, for days now, about the best way to comment on what 2006 has been, what it has meant. You know what? That's too huge a task, and I'm sure I don't really know (and may never know) all of what this year has been about. But I can discuss with some authority what the soundtrack of my life has been this past year (probably beginning with some stuff that first hit my radar in 2005, but that was in heavy rotation all this year, too). Let me be clear. I am not saying that these songs or albums were released in 2006. In most cases, not.

So, here I sit in my pajamas, drinking some chocolate truffle flavoured coffee (black) and I give you my year in music:

Jay-Z's Black Album

This collection came into my life in the Spring of 2005 and didn't leave my discman (now I have an iPod, thankfully) for months. Songs like "Justify My Thug," "Encore," and "Moment of Clarity" saw me to about a 60-pound weight loss as I walked, rocked the elliptical, etc. while I listened. For me, they expressed, in healthy ways, a lot of my own feelings of aggression. This was my mourning music. The songs were my "get over him, get over it, let it go" anthems. It helped me to listen to Jay-Z reflect on his years in "the game," the fact that the industry didn't make him, the fact that he has a hustler's spirit--that that is just intrinsic to him. But it wasn't a mere glorification of himself (though there was plenty of self-glorification on the album). It's more about a man who has achieved the satisfaction of being able to tell his detractors, "you can't affect me." It was just what I needed, then. And I find comfort in those songs, still. I don't need them like I did in '05, but they still get a lot of play.

Blackalicious's Blazing Arrow

This album was released to critical acclaim in 2002, but I discovered it, due to the magic of the shared iTunes network at work, just a few months ago. Blazing Arrow is clever, political, funny, experimental, musically sound, and uncorrupted. If you want a break from overly polished and produced rap/r&B/hip-hop--but still want something that has integrity and credibility, this collection of songs is a great place to start. In fact, I insist on it. The beats are infectious, the lyrics thought-provoking. Heck. These guys made me want to experiment with form in poetry--that's how rhythmically sound it is.

Mos Def (The New Danger , Black Star, and Black On Both Sides)

I had never heard any of Mos Def's music until this year, even though his last album (The New Danger) was released in 2004. As you can probably tell by now, I've gone through a Hip-Hop/Rap renaissance in 2006. What I appreciate about Mos is that he's that elusive combination of socially conscious/commercially successful rapper. His lyrics take some interesting chances, and he's true to the music by letting the lines between rap, rock, blues, and jazz blur. As they should. Music is a collective and it all flows from one point of origin. The more genres I steep myself in, the more I realize that music really is universal. In any case, courtesy of Sarah (who is quite the connoisseur of good rap these days), The New Danger came into my life this past summer, picking up where Jay-Z's Black Album left off. It pushed me to the next level of reflection on disenfranchisement, the state of the union, etc.

"Black on Both Sides," Mos Def's first album, is fast-paced, soulful, playful, provocative. It's just solid.

The highlight of my music-buying forays in '06 was when I took "Black Star" to the counter at Sound Garden and the cashier told me that it was the second-greatest hip-hop album of all time and the fact that I was buying it warmed his heart. There you have it.

Beth Orton (Daybreaker, mostly)

I have Pastemusic.com to thank for introducing me to Beth Orton. The song "Stars All Seem To Weep" from her album "Central Reservation" has a trippy, quasi techno beat (thanks to Ben Watt of another favourite group, Everything But The Girl) that hooked me, then the poeticism of the lyric made me want to go deeper, so I ordered several of her CDs. "Daybreaker" boasts the lovely, austere "Paris Train," "Concrete Sky," and "Mount Washington." Best lyric? For me, in "Paris Train," when she just repeats over and over in this haunting lilt, "this was inevitable, this was inevitable..."

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Prince's "The Beautiful Ones" was on heavy rotation this summer. I rediscovered this song for a reason I can't even remember, but one day I was just moved to search for and buy it from iTunes. The pathos! The drama! The no-holds-barred 'please love me, please!' plea of it all just hits me right in the chest. Look, Prince is a musical genius. If you don't agree, let's just not talk about it...

Bread's "Baby, I'm-a Want You" and "Make it with you" made me remember the earnestness of the 70s. Both of these plaintive songs are about the simple desire to be with someone. About wanting someone. And even though they are not sad songs, per se, there is something so sorrowful about that kind of candor, that kind of bald statement. I've known these songs for years, but for some reason, they've been touchstones again this year.

John Mayer's Continuum

I have loved John since "Room for Squares," though I know he released, independently, "Inside Wants Out" before that. Look. The man's musical efforts cannot be reduced to the category of pop, though there would be no shame in that. There's a lot of excellent pop out there. In any case, some of his songs have a pop feel, but he's a guitar and song man, essentially. And of course, I love and respect the John Mayer Trio, which delves into the more bluesy aspect of song and guitardom. "Continuum" came into my life right around the time my father died and the song "Stop This Train," with its simple line "I don't want to see my parents go" was just prescient. My favourite tracks on this collection are "Vultures," "Stop this Train," and "Slow Dancing In A Burning Room," in which JM incants in his smoky, sultry way "go on and cry about it, why don't you?"

Kings of Convenience, Riot On An Empty Street

I heart these unassuming Scandanavians. Acoustic, pop, and jazzy with a little electronica thrown into the mix. For my money it doesn't get any better than "The Build Up" in which they, too, realize the inherent, desolate symbolism of the train. The climax of the song is when the female vocals, jagged and smooth at the same time, break in. You need that ticket to remind you when to disembark. Gosh!

Quiet is the new loud was my introduction to them back in 2002. Check that one out, too.

N*E*R*D's "Fly or Die" deserves a mention here (could not find an interesting link) because of Pharrell William's killer hooks and out there lyrics. This album was the backdrop to all my moving drama. It's worth a listen if only for the weird song about an errant fishing trip. I listened to most of these songs going "wha....?" but truly, I kept listening. It's the kind of thing where you're like "is this good?" but you can't really stop hitting repeat.

Beck

I didn't have much exposure to beck before the shared music library thing.... I had no idea he could be so subdued and sad, which is really what I love best. "Nobody's Fault But My Own," "Guess I'm Doing Fine," and "End of the Day" are wonderfully contemplative. They encapsulate so much of what the fall of 2006 was about for me.

Favourite lyric of the year? Hands down, Lifehouse's "Everything," has the best line I've heard in a long time--this year or otherwise. "How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?" Exactly.

This song is several years old now, and I had heard it before, but this year I meditated on what that means. It makes me think about God. How could I stand here with him and not be moved, indeed? And I also thought about how many people I haven't really let myself be moved by. It made me want to pay attention.

Most personally empowering song? 32 Flavors (Alana Davis's version). It made me feel invincible while finishing up my thesis.

What am I listening to now? "Go!" The Common ditty about striking while the iron is hot (featuring John Mayer vocals as the repeating refrain), Rod Stewart's "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy," which has always seemed very urgent, yearning, and kind of raw to me... i mean, this line: "he says 'I'm sorry, but I'm out of milk and coffee...never mind, sugar, we can watch the early movie..." is just brilliant. Yes, I am quite serious.

Quick note about Rod Stewart: His musical credibility was over after the very early 80s. As soon as he released that schmaltzig "Forever Young" he was over. And he needs to stop with the jazz standards. His voice is shot. Finito. Stop, please, Rod.

And thanks to a Baltimore Sun article, I have found Icognito's Bees+Things+Flowers which covers several soulful songs, and there is the occasional anomaly, too, like America's "Tin Man," which I've always loved. That song is a postmodern masterpiece. More on that later...