Whether it’s because of a sorrowful moan, a bowel-shaking scream, or perfectly syncopated hand claps, there are moments in music when the frequency of the sound waves creates a certain energy. What’s created is the exact energy required for sound particles to enter the ear canal, vibrate off the eardrum, and send the noise straight to the heart, tickling the back of the throat, before finally being pumped through the aorta.
On that note, here is a recap of some of the albums from 2003 that possessed those moments.
Last year, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs came dangerously close to being over-hyped. Singer Karen O’s ripped fishnet stockings had the band receiving pages of press long before they had even released their full-length debut, “Fever To Tell.” However, the band was still able to impress audiences with the album, one of the most energetic releases of the year.
Karen O, along with guitarist Nick Zinner and drummer Brian Chase, made a beer-stained album that’s equal parts glamour, sleaze and guitar lick. The best songs on the album are the last three: “Maps,” “Y Control” and “Modern Romance.” These songs have an intimacy that differs from the rest of the charged dance numbers on the album.
Another new band to make a name for itself this year was Broken Social Scene. The Toronto-based collective’s album “You Forgot It In People” begins far away with a distant, airy drone, but doesn’t quite reach its destination until the galloping percussion of the second song, “KC Accidental.” This draws the listener toward something more elusive with each swell of music. By the third track, you’re unself-consciously clapping your hands and shaking your head. On the song “Anthems For a Seventeen Year-Old Girl,” Emily Haines’ vocals, although hushed and childlike, sound sinister as she repeats the lines “Park that car, drip that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me” over violin and banjo instrumentation. Although “You Forgot It In People” is overall an outstanding album, there are a couple of tracks where it’s hard not to feel embarrassed for the band. This past year, two seasoned folksters released noteworthy albums. Bonnie “Prince” Billy came out with “Master and Everyone,” a recording that almost sounds like an Appalachian lullaby. Although “Master and Everyone” comes up short when compared to some of Billy’s previous work, it remains a beautiful album — a sparse meandering through a backwoods of comforting timelessness.
Similarly, last year’s “You Are Free” by Cat Power is a great album, but not their masterpiece. From her twisting and contorting lips behind a curtain of thick bangs, band leader Chan Marshall’s voice manages to produce goose bumps. However, there are moments that are lost to a more radio-friendly, straightforward singing style and slick production. As a musician, Marshall’s greatest asset is her aching warble, which sounds best on the track “Good Woman,” a breathtaking song that perfectly fuses all the best elements of “You Are Free” into one melody.
Rounding out the list is The Shins’ graceful second album, “Chutes Too Narrow.” It’s nearly impossible to separate the perfectly blended parts and describe them. This proves just how talented the band is.
All of the aforementioned albums have a way of inducing a psychosomatic effect on me. But The Shins’ release produces the most dramatic response. In the song “Mine’s Not a High Horse,” the way lead singer James Mercer’s voice drops and sings “You want them all on your side/ that just makes more for doubt to slaughter,” makes the space around my eyes well up. As Mercer quietly sings “But your memory is here and I’d like it to stay warm light on a winter day” in the song “Pink Bullets,” a feeling of nostalgia churns my stomach. The tracks “Kissing the Lipless” and “So Says I” make my heart strings shiver with delight.