The Music of 2010

Despite my CD of the Day project that dusted off some older CDs in my collection, I still made plenty of time for great new music in 2010. As is my Black Friday custom, all of the music below comes with the highest possible recommendation as you search for stocking stuffers and the like.

ARTIST OF THE YEAR

Trombone Shorty

I’d never heard of this young New Orleans phenom until this year, and then it seemed like he was everywhere. And with good reason. Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews plays with a fire in his belly, whether he’s attacking his audience with his eponymous instrument, squealing on trumpet, singing, or dancing his way across the stage. The guy is electric, both on his new record, “Backatown,” and in concert. His blend of rock, funk, hip hop, and R&B is infectious, envigorating, and, as a trombone player myself, inspiring. His show at the 9:30 Club in August was so great, we’re going back for more on New Year’s Day.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

The Avett Brothers

The Gaslight Anthem

Patty Griffin

Robert Plant

The Whigs

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

“American Slang,” The Gaslight Anthem (2010)

This should be no surprise, really, since I devoted five days and thousands of words to this spectacular album earlier this year. Everybody always talks about a “sophomore slump,” but third albums are tricky, too, and dangerous. Gaslight had a lot of pressure living up to “The ’59 Sound,” and they nailed it. And not by simply re-recording that album, but by going in a new, more difficult direction.

“American Slang” is the band’s finest record, their most well crafted. Brian Fallon was already one of my favorite songwriters of all time before this album, and yet his work here reaches a new level of depth. These are lyrics you want to sit with and read along to the music, spend time thinking about; I could quote at least a dozen favorite lines. What I love most is that he tackles difficult personal issues without losing his inherent optimism. This may be Gaslight’s version of “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” but there’s light at the end of their tunnel.

And the songs! As you’ll see below, I finally managed to settle on one, but at least five tracks from this album were considered my “favorite” at one point or another this year, and I still haven’t fully decided. Pop, punk, soul, classic rock … “American Slang” has it all, yet it all still sounds distinctly Gaslight.

The band set itself apart from its peers with this record.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

“Backatown,” Trombone Shorty (2010)

“Band of Joy,” Robert Plant (2010)

“Crazy Heart,” soundtrack (2010)

“Ghosts on the Boardwalk,” The Bouncing Souls (2010)

“Good Morning, Magpie,” Murder By Death (2010)

“I and Love and You,” The Avett Brothers (2009)

“In the Dark,” The Whigs (2010)

“The Promise,” Bruce Springsteen (2010)

“Soulsville,” Huey Lewis and the News (2010)

“Why You Runnin’” EP, Lissie (2009)

“You Are Not Alone,” Mavis Staples (2010)

DISAPPOINTMENTS

“High Violet,” The National (2010)

“Maya,” M.I.A. (2010)

“The Suburbs,” Arcade Fire (2010)

SONG OF THE YEAR

“Suburbia,” Trombone Shorty (from 2010’s “Backatown”)

Never would I have thought my favorite song of 2010 wouldn’t have a single lyric, but greatness is greatness, and “Suburbia” is great. There’s so much going on in this trombone-and-guitar manifesto I don’t know where lyrics would even fit, anyway. There’s so much power in this track; Trombone Shorty is absolutely blasting away on his instrument, with a backing band equal to his call. What I really love about this song, though, is how it moves and changes, shifting shapes in so many ways over the course of just 3 minutes 20 seconds. And yet, the powerhouse core riff is always there, waiting to explode again. Since I first heard this song, whenever I needed a boost of energy in 2010, I went straight to “Suburbia.”

25 HONORABLE MENTIONS

“Ain’t No Grave,” Johnny Cash (from 2010’s “Ain’t No Grave”)

Johnny Cash’s final album isn’t as good as the other American Recordings, but this track, which plays like a sequel to “God’s Gonna Cut You Down,” was worth waiting for. The sparse, chain-rattling chiller is one of his best from this series.

“All Those Yesterdays,” Pearl Jam (from 1998’s “Yield,” as performed live 5.13.10)

As I wrote back in May, this was one of my Pearl Jam “bucket list” songs. Never thought I’d hear it in person (they’ve only played it 13 times since 1998), but always hoped to. It did not disappoint. The closing track to my favorite Pearl Jam album was as majestic as ever.

“Awake My Soul,” Mumford and Sons (from 2009’s “Sigh No More”)

In the Star Wars novels from recent years, there’s a phrase the authors like to use: suit action to words. That’s the idea with this song. I do actually feel revitalized after listening to it. This was a strong contender for Song of the Year from a brilliant new band.

“Big Eyes,” The Bouncing Souls (from 2010’s “Ghosts on the Boardwalk”)

The Souls continued to stretch themselves with this album, and this song, in particular. It plays like a more serious take on the front-porch feel of “The Pizza Song.” With its acoustic rhythm guitar and overall toned-down vibe, this shows real growth and is one of the band’s best tracks.

“Bloodbuzz Ohio,” The National (from 2010’s “High Violet”)

Yeah, I hated this album. But if I only had one song to try and make someone a National fan, “Bloodbuzz Ohio” wouldn’t be a bad choice. Everything I love about the band is in this song: the pounding drums; the swirling guitars; the piano flourishes that dance around the edges; and Matt Berninger’s resonant voice, which sounds as good as ever here. This is the one song from “High Violet” that holds up to “Boxer,” which is the best compliment I can possibly give it.

“Cry to Me,” Huey Lewis and the News (from 2010’s “Soulsville”)

There’s a full post coming about this album of Stax covers, but for now let me just say: How great is this?!?! Huey and the News may be a fun bar-band-gone-huge from the ’80s, but this release, their first in years, demonstrates there was a lot of depth hiding behind those winking and smiling hit songs. Tough to choose a favorite, so this one may or may not be here for its association with the “Dirty Dancing” soundtrack.

“The Day,” Murder By Death (from 2010’s “Good Morning, Magpie”)

After a wonderfully idiosyncratic album, MBD reminds at the conclusion to “Magpie” they can still bring the apocalyptic heavy. “The Day” is spooky, scary, spectacular stuff. The last 30 seconds alone make this song one of my favorites of the year.

“Everywhere I Go,” Lissie (from 2009’s “Why You Runnin’” EP/2010’s “Catching A Tiger” LP)

If you’re gonna sing about angels, then you should probably have the voice of one. That’s Lissie, who stunned me with her 2009 debut EP's stark beauty. “Everywhere I Go” gets the nod here, but really any of those five songs could be considered a favorite of the past year. Unfortunately, she fell victim to pop sensibilities on her first official LP, which makes the inclusion of this song stand out like a sore thumb. Still, when she hits that “ANGELS” note … wow.

“Fallin’ & Flyin’,” Jeff Bridges and Colin Farrell (from 2010’s “Crazy Heart” soundtrack)

There are a handful of great songs from Bridges on this outstanding soundtrack to a spectacular film, but I went with this one because it was my favorite scene in the movie, when Farrell joins Bridges onstage. Bridges does this little motion telling Farrell to get back on the mic that I just love, like a dad showing pride for his son. Bridges is magnificent as both an actor and singer, and this is just one of several examples. (Farrell’s shockingly good as a Western vocalist, too.)

“Far Away,” Jose Gonzalez/“Deadman’s Gun,” Ashtar Command (from 2010’s “Red Dead Redemption” soundtrack)

“Red Dead Redemption” is one of the best video games I’ve ever played. Entertainment Weekly described the smash hit from Rockstar (“Grand Theft Auto”) like walking around in “Deadwood,” and that’s just about right. And not only is the game awesome, but so is the soundtrack. These two moody Western ballads come at crucial points in the game and set the perfect tone for what’s happening on screen. They’re a testament to the level of quality Rockstar achieved with this singular title.

“Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise,” The Avett Brothers (from 2009’s “I and Love and You”)

The Avetts’ voices speak to me in an elemental way I’m a little at a loss to explain. It’s the clarity, I think. They sing with such grace, and power, and finesse, and energy—sometimes all at once, sometimes just pieces of those things. This song is also a good representation of the positivity the Avetts strive to create—in themselves, in their fans, in their world. It’s right there in the title: Everyone has doubts, but there’s always reason for hope; you have to use that hope to drown out the darkness in yourself. Be aggressive about it. It’s a song about living out your dreams, but the subject matter is handled frankly, realistically, and in that acknowledgement is its power.

This song includes one of my favorite lyrics of the past year:

When nothing is old, deserved or expected

And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected

If you’re loved by someone you’re never rejected

Decide what to be and go be it

Match lines like that to a sweeping, moving score, and you have one of my favorite songs of the year.

“Heavy in Your Arms,” Florence + the Machine (from 2010’s “Eclipse” soundtrack)

Florence Welch is on the verge of exploding into the popular consciousness. Her 2009 debut, “Lungs,” was one of my favorites from last year and it’s still gaining traction—one of those slow-burn situations. Last weekend she delivered one of the best “Saturday Night Live” performances I’ve ever seen, and next year she’s opening for U2. This song isn’t one of her very best, but it’s a more than serviceable introduction for the Twilight crowd, which certainly can’t hurt (just ask Paramore and Muse). The thunderous percussion, dramatic pauses and changes of direction, and, more than anything, Welch’s clarion-call of a voice … it’s all here in this track.

“Hundred/Million,” The Whigs (from 2010’s “In the Dark”)

The year I finally joined Facebook, The Whigs’ Parker Gispert summarized the digital age with this song: “There’s a hundred million people in my mind/Which is me, and which is not?” That’s the chorus of this sinewy rocker, which kicks off one of my favorite albums of the year.

“Hustle and Cuss,” The Dead Weather (from 2010’s “Sea of Cowards”)

I instantly fell in love with this lowdown, dirty piece of blues when it was used on the soundtrack for UFC’s hype series for the Brock Lesnar/Cain Velasquez heavyweight title fight in October. It played in the background as Lesnar went through his grueling, ferocious workout, and fit the mountain of a man perfectly. Even though Lesnar went on to lose that bout, I’ll always think back on the mixture of those images and this song with fondness. It takes Jack White an album to figure out his bands; he’s now three-for-three on second efforts, as “Cowards” is a significant improvement over last year’s “Horehound.”

“Kentucky Rain,” Elvis Presley (from 2009’s “From Elvis in Memphis: Legacy Edition”)

As I mentioned last year at this time, my appreciation for Elvis has grown steadily since visiting Graceland in 2008. It culminated this January, as there was quite a bit of hype surrounding Presley’s 75th birthday. I’m actually drawn more to his latter-career period, so after putting “Suspicious Minds” on my list for 2009, I went looking for more of the same and found this stirring gem on the bonus disc of “From Elvis in Memphis.” The entire album is great, but this was the track that most captured the power of “Suspicious Minds.” That man sure could sing.

“Long Hard Times to Come”/“On the Run,” Gangstagrass (from 2010’s “Justified” soundtrack)

My favorite new TV show of the season, Timothy Olyphant’s modern Western “Justified” was accompanied by two breakthrough tracks from Gangstagrass, who mixes bluegrass and hip-hop so well, I wonder why someone didn’t think of it a long time ago. “Long Hard Times to Come” plays over the show’s opening credits, while “On the Run” was in the trailer. Both songs perfectly capture the sentiment of the show and were crucial elements of why I loved the series so much. Can’t wait ’til February for Season 2!

“The Only Sound That Matters,” Robert Plant (from 2010’s “Band of Joy”)

Plenty of goodies to pick from on Plant’s outstanding new album, but this simple country-feeling ballad rose to the top, if for no other reason than the main guitar lick reminds me of Springsteen’s “My Hometown.” The only thing that could’ve made this charming effort even better is Alison Krauss’ voice.

“Orphans,” The Gaslight Anthem (from 2010’s “American Slang”)

I’ve gone back and forth and back again on which song to select from my Album of the Year. I finally settled on “Orphans” because it’s the capstone for the album—the mission statement. If I had to pick one line to summarize the entire record, it would be from “Orphans”: “And the clothes I wore just don’t fit my soul anymore.” It’s a song about moving on, standing on your own, establishing yourself. It is “American Slang.”

“Radioactive,” Kings of Leon (from 2010’s “Come Around Sundown”)

I love the sentiment of this song, that no matter how much things change you can always go back to your roots to find some clarity. It’s a fitting first single for this band, who became insanely popular between this release and their last, 2008’s platinum-selling “Only By the Night.” The gospel choir is a great touch, too, for one of the band’s best efforts.

“Rock Problems,” The Hold Steady (from 2010’s “Heaven Is Whenever”)

Craig Finn’s self-deprecating sendup of frontmen complaining about their success is a breath of fresh air. Over one of the hardest-rocking songs on his band’s new album, Finn speaks from a fan’s perspective about how those of us in the real world just can’t sympathize with his “rock and roll problems.” “This is just what we wanted,” Finn agrees. 1993 Eddie Vedder, are you listening?

“Snow Is Gone,” Josh Ritter (from 2010’s “Hello Starling” re-release)

So this folky gem would’ve been great any time I heard it, but it just happened to come across my radar following the worst snowstorm of my life. There couldn’t have been any better timing for a track that sounds like spring breaking through winter's gloom. I defy you not to at least tap a toe to this, which is like the best type of Ryan Adams song—only joyful instead of drunkenly morose.

“Sons of Liberty,” Frank Turner (from 2009’s “Poetry of the Deed”)

I’m sure Frank Turner is a liberal (aren’t they all?), but this song was a personal anthem this year as I watched President Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, and their ilk reshape our nation in their own socialist image. The last line of this rousing Irish folk/punk monster track eviscerates those who want the government to run their lives for them:

’Cause a man who’d trade his liberty

For a safe and dreamless sleep

Doesn’t deserve the both of them

And neither shall he keep

Amen.

“You Are Not Alone,” Mavis Staples (from 2010’s “You Are Not Alone”)

The inspired pairing of this gospel legend with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy led to the latter’s best song in years. Tweedy’s duet here with Staples meshes so perfectly, it’s like their two voices become one. It’s a beautiful song, both lyrically and musically. More of this on the next Wilco album, please, Jeff.

CD of the Day: ‘American VI: Ain’t No Grave,’ Johnny Cash (2010)

I wanted to love this album because, you know, it’s the last Johnny Cash album ever. But I just don’t. And that’s fine, because “American VI” is basically just the leftovers from Cash’s American recordings, anyway. They’re nice, sure, but leftovers never taste as good as the original meal.

The best song is right out front: “Ain’t No Grave” plays like a sister track to “God’s Gonna Cut You Down”—same tone, same phrasing, same rattlin’ chains. This song also gets an extra-special boost with the banjo plucking of Scott Avett.

While none of the other nine tracks quite match up, they’re certainly good enough not to be left unheard in a storage room somewhere. Producer Rick Rubin cleaned out the last of the Man in Black’s treasure trove with this final release, and if nothing else it shows how amazingly productive Cash was in his last days—these are well-fashioned songs, not just the ramblings of an old singer past his prime. “Can’t Help But Wonder Where I’m Bound,” “For the Good Times,” and “Satisfied Mind” are my other favorites.

You’d think Cash’s last recordings would pack an emotional wallop, but that’s not the case. There’s no “On the Evening Train” or “Hurt” here; instead we have a couple rather tepid politically themed cuts like “Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream,” and Sheryl Crow’s “Redemption Day,” the latter featuring a spooky, breathy guitar part we’ve heard many times over in the American series.

Cash’s last original song, “I Corinthians 15:55,” aims for defiance in the face of death that characterizes so many of these latter-day tracks, but the scripture he chose to adapt is a bit wordy and awkward, siphoning off some of the words’ impact. “Aloha Oe” falls flat in the same way—the written words are full of meaning given the context of when Cash sang them, but it’s just plain weird to have his career end with a Hawaiian folk song.

“Ain’t No Grave” isn’t that one last masterpiece I was hoping for but I’m glad to have it, nevertheless. Despite its faults, the album proves Cash left this world in his full rejuvenated glory.

Grade: B-

Favorite Track: “Ain’t No Grave”

Least Favorite Track: “Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream”

CD of the Day: ‘American V: A Hundred Highways,’ Johnny Cash (2006)

Honesty and openness mark of all these American recordings, especially those after Cash fell ill. His frankness in the face of mortality is part of what makes this series so compelling. And perhaps no song in the entire catalog is as devastatingly transparent as this album’s “On the Evening Train.”

Though it was originally penned by Hank Williams, I can’t imagine there was a more fitting way for Cash to cathartically process the death of June Carter than this track; and, as is the case with so many of these latter songs, he allows us to read him like an open book. It ends thus:

I pray that God will give me courage

To carry on ’til we meet again

It’s hard to know she’s gone forever

They’re carrying her home on the evening train

Gets me every time.

That’s just one of several emotionally charged moments on “American V.” The album features tracks recorded in Cash’s final days, culled into a sterling collection by the Man in Black’s latter-day collaborator, producer Rick Rubin. Opener “Help Me” is another prayer to God, while Cash original “I Came to Believe” is one of the simplest and most effective declarations of Christian faith I’ve ever heard.

It’s not all about introspection, though. Cash still manages to stomp and strut as good as ever, facing death with courage and defiance. “Like the 309” is one more train-themed original for good measure; “Further On (Up the Road)” is one of the best Springsteen covers I’ve ever heard; and his chain-gang interpretation of “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” wields a heavenly thunder.

You could make the argument, I guess, that this album’s weakness is the three-track sequence of “A Legend in My Time”/“Rose of My Heart”/“Four Strong Winds,” but even these tower over many of the cover selections from previous entries in the series.

“A Hundred Highways” is the strongest, most moving American installment. If it had been the last of the group, there could have been no better ending for Cash's career than the quiet content found in “I’m Free from the Chain Gang Now.”

This is one of my favorite CDs of all time.

Grade: A

CD of the Day: ‘My Mother’s Hymn Book,’ Johnny Cash (2004)

In the liner notes for this release, Johnny Cash says “My Mother’s Hymn Book” is his favorite Johnny Cash album, and the recordings bear him out. Though on the surface this collection’s man-and-his-guitar sound is identical to 1994’s “American Recordings,” he brings a deeper level of passion to these beloved old songs. You can hear the love—for his mother, for music, for God—in his voice. He never overdoes it, either. Half the time it’s almost like he’s talking to you as much as singing; he’s lived with these hymns his whole life, so they float easily from his lips. This is simple and pure, a reflection of the way he seemed to live his life in those final days.

I know I’m one of the last people on earth still buying CDs, but if you don’t have this yet, I strongly urge you to pick up the physical copy (it’s also part of the “Unearthed” box set from ’03). The liner notes are an essential part of the listening experience, with comments from Cash and his family explaining why these songs meant so much to him, track by track. He talks about hearing two of these hymns at his brother’s funeral, how his mother loved some of them so deeply, and how his entire family sang “Let the Lower Lights Be Burning” around his father’s hospital bed.

More than anything, though, “My Mother’s Hymn Book” is a tremendous Christian witness. Cash isn’t just paying lip service to a genre he likes; these songs were etched into his soul, and, in a way, tell his own life’s redemption story. It’s like he combined all these hymns into one when he wrote “I Came to Believe” for “American V.”

This is moving, beautiful work.

God loves music and that music brings hope for a better tomorrow. —Johnny Cash

Grade: A

CD of the Day: ‘American IV: The Man Comes Around,’ Johnny Cash (2002)

That this is arguably Cash’s worst of the six proper American albums demonstrates just how wonderful this latter-day career renaissance truly was. Yes, "American IV" features some of the weakest songs of the catalog, but it also offers some of the best.

It’s impossible to start anywhere but with “Hurt,” the masterful Nine Inch Nails cover that exposed Cash to an entirely new generation; it is a triumph of interpretation and execution. “Personal Jesus” is another particular favorite, with that fantastic acoustic bass line drawing you into Cash’s still-imposing voice, while “Tear Stained Letter,” “Sam Hall,” and the title track demonstrate Cash could still rock and roll with you. He also offers majestic takes on The Beatles’ “In My Life,” Sting’s “I Hung My Head,” and his own “Give My Love to Rose.”

There’s a difference between stately and downright immobile, though, and too many tracks on “American IV” fall into the latter category. Cash’s version of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” has always seemed an odd choice to me, and “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” barely has a pulse. Later, the three-track run of “Danny Boy”/“Desperado”/“I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” is one of the worst stretches of any American album.

Cash manages a recovery, closing the last album of his life with the uplifting “We’ll Meet Again.” Yet nothing can mask the fact “American IV” is the most uneven of his final records.

Grade: B-

Favorite Track: “Personal Jesus”

Least Favorite Track: “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”

CD of the Day: ‘American III: Solitary Man,’ Johnny Cash (2000)

Following the recording of “Unchained,” Johnny Cash’s health started to seriously decline. The impact on his body and spirit are both evident in this, his next release.

"American III" is the first album of his career where Cash sounds frail. Though he can still muster much of his considerable bravado, his voice is shakier, his words slightly slurred at times—a marked difference from the bombast of “Unchained” four years earlier.

“American III” also marks a shift in theme and tone that would carry through the rest of his recording career. The choices here are significantly darker in content and interpretation, yet they are defiant and honest in the face of death. Look no further than opener “I Won’t Back Down,” supported by the man who wrote the song in the first place, Tom Petty. That sentiment could have titled this record and each of the remaining three Cash cut before succumbing to death in 2003.

Musically “American III” is a mixed bag and shows signs the American sessions were losing a little steam. The first half of this 14-song disc is outstanding, offering up some of his best work from this period. “I See A Darkness” is an epic masterpiece; Nick Cave’s “The Mercy Seat” is filled with frank boldness—“I’ve got nothing left to lose, and I’m not afraid to die,” he bellows. “Solitary Man” was worthy of the Grammy it won and features one of the best guitar parts of any American recording. Cash's cover of U2’s “One” is simply gorgeous.

The second half, though, is filled mostly with sleepy acoustic numbers that lack the urgency and vitality of the original “American Recordings” album. “Field of Diamonds” is notable here as the last Cash song to feature June Carter before her death, while “Wayfaring Stranger" is an appropriately mournful finale. But there’s little else to get excited about in the final seven tracks.

Grade: B

Favorite Track: “One”

Other Favorite Track: “I See A Darkness”

Least Favorite Track: “Would You Lay With Me (In A Field of Stone)”

CD of the Day: ‘Unchained,’ Johnny Cash (1996)

As the title aptly declares, on this record Cash sounds set free to do anything and everything he pleases like the steamrolling artist of his youth—like “American Recordings” was a cleansing process that left him renewed and reborn.

Backed by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, it’s clear “Unchained” is a wholly different experience right from the first track, a sumptuous cover of Beck’s “Rowboat.” There’s freewheelin’ rockabilly frenzy throughout on tracks like “Kneeling Drunkard’s Plea,” “Country Boy,” “Mean Eyed Cat,” and “I’ve Been Everywhere.” You can hear the smile in these songs.

The album features slower numbers, too, but Cash’s still-massive voice soars anew with a full band behind him on cuts like “Unchained,” “Spiritual,” and “Meet Me in Heaven.”

There are three songs that stand above the rest: a sparkling cover of Petty’s own “Southern Accents”; “Sea of Heartbreak,” which we now know from Rosanne Cash’s “The List” was one of the Man in Black’s 100 favorite songs of all time; and a fire-breathing interpretation of Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage” which is one of the best recordings in his entire American catalog.

The first two CDs in this series are perfect complements to one another: the first reenergized Cash by bringing him back to his roots; the second showed what the man could do at his peak.

Grade: A-

Favorite Track: “Rusty Cage”

Least Favorite Track: “The One Rose (That’s Left in My Heart)”

CD of the Day: ‘American Recordings,’ Johnny Cash (1994)

To commemorate the release of Johnny Cash’s final album, “American VI: Ain’t No Grave,” earlier this year, CD of the Day will highlight the entire American series over the next week or so.

I know this is commonly regarded as Cash’s best album of his American sessions with producer Rick Rubin, but you’ll just have to forgive me if I don’t agree. That’s not to say “American Recordings” isn’t an excellent listen, I just prefer Cash backed by the likes of the Heartbreakers than flying solo.

I have to be in the right mood for “American Recordings”—it’s stark, deliberate, and dark. Like Springsteen’s “Nebraska,” it’s not the type of album to pop in any ol’ time, unless I'm in a somber mood and happen to be driving through the blackness of a moonless night.

The lack of accompaniment puts the focus squarely on Cash’s unmistakable voice, which at this point in his life could still fill a bottomless pit. There’s no wavering or frailty here as would follow on latter American releases; he’s all power and might. His guitar work is just as good, eschewing his trademark train-wheel cachunk for more traditional folk chords. Forced to choose, Glenn Danzig-penned “Thirteen” is my favorite track, but almost all of the choices are made of the same solid stuff.

“American Recordings” is like a heavy, dramatic film—I acknowledge its brilliance, but that doesn’t mean I want to go through it over and over again. Though it is certainly one of the most consistent efforts in Cash’s American series, I nevertheless listen to it less than all the others.

Grade: B

Favorite Track: “Thirteen”

Least Favorite Track: “The Man Who Couldn’t Cry”

Albums of the Aughts: The Top 10

Over the course of the past year or so, I've been going through my CD collection to highlight my favorite albums from each year of the decade. Here, then, are the best of the best, for the first time ranked in order of preference (which was very difficult). There probably aren't many surprises if you've read this blog much at all, especially in the past couple years. The one thing that stood out most to me in compiling the list is there are three covers albums on the list, starting with …

10. “Renegades,” Rage Against the Machine (2000)

There’s something to be said for going out on top, and RATM certainly did just that with this hammerfist of a record. Tom Morello’s guitar squalls on opener “Microphone Fiend” still sound as incendiary today as they did when I first blasted this album at maximum volume in college. And that’s just the first track; Morello continues to bring the heavy all the way through, on standout cuts like “Pistol Grip Pump,” “I’m Housin’,” “How I Could Just Kill A Man,” “Maggie’s Farm,” and, of course, the spectacular Springsteen cover “The Ghost of Tom Joad.” One of the seminal bands of the ’90s, Rage kicked off the aughts by saving their best for last.

9. “Pearl Jam,” Pearl Jam (2006)

Though my love for Pearl Jam in the aughts was more about the concert experience than the studio albums, this release remains one of my favorites of the decade. After two subpar albums, the band found its footing again with a back-to-basics approach. “Pearl Jam” highlights all the things I love about Pearl Jam and propelled the band into one of the best periods of its career. The album’s heavily partisan lyrics forced it down in my rankings over time, but nevertheless this record is a monster, without a single weak track (yes, I’ve even come around on “Army Reserve”). Even after hundreds of listens, it still gets my blood pumping.

8. “American V: A Hundred Highways,” Johnny Cash (2006)

Cash’s posthumous final American Recordings release is also my favorite. It’s an intimate look at the Man in Black in his last days—at his most fragile (opener “Help Me,” “If You Could Read My Mind”) and defiant (“God’s Gonna Cut You Down,” “Like the 309,” “Further On (Up the Road)”). The most striking track for me, though, remains “I Came to Believe,” in which Cash poignantly summarizes his Christian faith in just 3 minutes, 45 seconds. In that one song you hear the peace that passes all understanding, and you understand how Cash found the strength to record one of his greatest albums in the face of imminent death.

7. “Elephant,” The White Stripes (2003)

There are at least four albums Jack White produced this decade I considered for this list. “Elephant” isn’t perfect, but nothing White does ever is. It’s part of his slapdash charm, actually. More than any other White record in the aughts, though, “Elephant” is the one I always come back to. It has everything I want in a White Stripes CD: Sprawling guitar epics like “Seven Nation Army,” “I Just Don’t Know What to Do with Myself,” and “Ball and Biscuit”; smoking rockers like “Black Math” and “Hypnotize”; and childish playful tracks like “In the Cold, Cold Night” and “It’s True That We Love One Another.” I was shocked by its breadth and depth on the very first listen, and “Elephant” only got better with age.

6. “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot,” Wilco (2002)

This is the album that keeps on giving. More than seven years after its release, different songs continue to speak to me in new ways. A few years back it was “Ashes of American Flags”; this year it was “Poor Places”; in 2012 it’ll probably be “Radio Cure,” my least favorite track. “Foxtrot” is the album Jeff Tweedy had been building up to for his entire career, and it cost him dearly—his health, bandmates, a record deal. But the result is a dense, difficult, rewarding experience of seemingly bottomless potential and modern classics at just about every turn.

5. “Boxer,” The National (2007)

I keep looking for a song I don’t like on The National’s most recent and best album, and I just can’t find one. When I’m forced to call wonderful tracks like “Ada,” “Gospel,” and “Guest Room” some of my “least” favorite entries on the album, well, then it must be a pretty special CD. “Boxer” is so powerful, in fact, I can’t just listen to it any old time; it’s reserved for when I really need it—either to focus on a difficult task, or to just relax and do nothing but disappear inside some of my favorite music of this or any decade.

4. “Raising Sand,” Robert Plant & Alison Krauss (2007)

The biggest surprise of the decade, “Raising Sand” combined two of my favorite voices into one of the most beautiful albums I’ve ever heard. Plant and Krauss don’t so much complement one another as intertwine in some otherworldly realm that could’ve been dreamed up in a Led Zeppelin song. Neither one outshines the other, yet both have spectacular moments to call their own (specifically, “Nothin’” for Plant and “Trampled Rose” for Krauss). “Raising Sand” is risk and reward, personified.

3. “Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea,” PJ Harvey (2000)

PJ Harvey’s turn-of-the-century masterpiece was a constant companion this decade. This monumental album adapted itself perfectly to any situation, whether I was on a long drive or an all-night study bender. From the clarion call of opener “Big Exit” to the ethereal mist of closer “We Float,” Harvey tapped every facet of her talent and sound over the course of 12 supple, spectacular tracks. She’s never been better—before or since.

2. “Sink or Swim,” The Gaslight Anthem (2007)

To paraphrase “High Fidelity’s” Rob Gordon, so much of rock and roll is about pain, suffering, heartbreak, depression. The Gaslight Anthem acknowledge that pain, they absorb it, and they move on. In a decade that saw so much fear and suffering, TGA was a beacon of joy at the end of the long tunnel of these past 10 years—genuine hope emanating from deep empathy and a determination that, no matter what, these dark times won’t beat us down and suck all the pleasure out of life.

Frontman Brian Fallon’s lyrics on his band’s debut album are essentially several different meditations on this central theme. Though “we always love the sad, sad songs” most of Fallon’s own on this record boil down to the last line of the first verse of the first song: “I thought about how fortunate I feel to be alive.” As a fellow Christian, these are words to live by.

1. “The ’59 Sound,” The Gaslight Anthem (2008)

Gaslight’s first album brought all sorts of comparisons to other bands, both peers and predecessors. “The ’59 Sound,” to these ears, ended those comparisons. It’s aptly christened, as this stripped-down, reverb-drenched album of the decade saw the band manifest the soul-music-as-punk-rock vibe they carry around in their hearts.

I don’t know what else I can say at this point other than I simply love, love, love this record. It fits any mood, any occasion, any requirement of circumstance. I return to it for energy, for joy, for peace, for renewal. It is my favorite album of this decade, and the next 10 years will be hard pressed to better it.