The D Man's Top Twenty Albums of 2010

The Grand Statement vs. The Overarching Vibe. Great albums may be grouped into one of these two categories. Take this year in music. Several albums merit Grand Statement distinctions (Arcade Fire, Sufjan Stevens, Kanye West), while others deserve honors for creating The Overarching Vibe (Beach House, LCD Soundsystem, Twin Shadow). These two musical camps, when rarefied aesthetics are involved, are worthy of our critical praise.

The Grand Statement primarily delivers a musical message. An album that earns this title--lyrically, sonically, thematically--tells a story, imparts a wisdom, or discloses a secret. The Grand Statement asserts a worldview, or at least offers a profound reference point, and forces listeners to weigh and consider. For example, Arcade Fire's The Suburbs is a sweeping narrative of the impending, and a remembrance of the spark of youth in the midst of an unavoidable unwinding. It is, in essence, an elegy. Listeners must grapple with the album's search for home amid the tumult of the modern world.

On the other hand, the Overarching Vibe delivers a musical feeling. The sound of the album is more significant than any lyric, topic, or theme. It is about the music, the moment, or the magic. It is experiential rather than topographical. For example, Beach House's Teen Dream, while chronicling the romance of youth, is primarily an iridescent escape into the feeling of youth, the dream of romance, indeed, the very sound of the fantasy.

On closer scrutiny, of course, these two distinctions begin to erode. The Grand Statement is often a function of the Overarching Vibe, the essential feel and sound of a record. The Suburbs is so seamless in its musical approach, it would be foolish not to recognize its holistic sonic current. Meanwhile, the Overarching Vibe is sometimes a product of the Grand Statement, as the stories, themes, and motifs that a given artist employs creates the (un)intended feeling, the personal musical experience, as it is with Teen Dream. Ultimately, these two distinctions are probably only servicable as a kind of shorthand to delineate between albums that contain a decipherable narrative arc, and albums that bury such narrative into the inscrutable nature of their musicmaking. Even then, such shorthand is underwhelming. After all, last decade's millenial masterpiece, Radiohead's Kid A, is arguably the penultimate Grand Statement (post-modern breakdown) and Overarching Vibe (post-modern breakdown).

One thing is certain: 2010 was a great year for music. The new decade failed to usher in a major movement or storyline. Unlike 1980, where disco and punk were giving way to post-punk and new wave, or 1990, where pop and hair-metal were dying a slow death as the underground presence of art-rock and grunge emerged, 2010 was a testament to the creative strength of the previous decade and its best artists. Indeed, the best albums of 2010 include releases from some of last decade's finest musicmakers: Arcade Fire, Sufjan Stevens, The National, and Kanye West, to name a few. Three of those artists have produced albums that previously topped The D Man's year-end lists. That is some staying power. That is some relevance.

A final word of encouragement. Last year, The D Man discussed his concerns regarding the slow-death of the album. The past year in music confirms (again) that such worries are premature. The mainstream offered up few albums worthy of aesthetic consideration, however, thankfully, myriad independent artists created long-form musical statements that were striking, original, and worth writing about and listening to. So enjoy.

1. The Suburbs / Arcade Fire

The Suburbs is about bedrooms, backyards, driveways, and parking lots; the places where dreams materialize in the heart of youth. But then communities dissolve, relationships disintegrate, and dreams dissipate, leaving disenfranchised kids roaming empty streets and cities, seeking solace, looking for home.

Arcade Fire's third album is a thrilling triumph that embraces the possibility of light in the throes of darkness, of love in the final acts of modern man. Less heavyhanded than Neon Bible, the album still possesses an underlying sense of despair, but it never detracts from the invitation to escape, and never weighs down the propulsive guitar-rock that carries much of the album. Indeed, the music's white-noise nostalgia is continuously interrupted by lyrical hooks, anthemic choruses, and bursts of clarity, in what may be seen as the band's first rock album, with their vibrant instrumental flourishes still in tow.

This is the Canadian band's The Joshua Tree--epic, righteous, guitar-driven, fervent--complete with massive anthems and soul-wrenching examinations. Unlike that album's wide-lens view of America and our inner soul, however, The Suburbs plays out more like Darkness at the Edge of Town, shrouded in a relentless future, uncertain of whether an appeal to our collective greatness will be fruitful.

The Suburbs' seamless majesty--both sonic and thematic--is an impressive achievement made possible by the band's considerable talents and willingness to reach for greatness. Will Butler referred to Arcade Fire as "a Moby-Dick kind of band." This is an apt description, as the collective's ambition goes for epic and achieves that kind of feeling, no matter the flaws. Rather than capturing merely small or limited moments (which it does to great effect), The Suburbs is a soaring depiction of visions past and future: childhood dreams give way as the adult world emerges, and the album's end-of-days philosophical exploration sears into the pysche. Over the arc of sixteen tracks, the album moves through the beauty, strangeness, and bittersweetness of youth, and often views those moments through the lens of an adult grappling with current crisis. This is not a short story with an easy ending.

The Suburbs is also that rare artistic creature: an accessible and aesthetic achievement that entered into the mainstream. Like Grizzly Bear's Veckatimest from 2009, The Suburbs reached #1 on the Billboard charts, if but for a brief stay, which is an impressive feat for an album that is such a heavy, conceptual thing.

But maybe that should not come as a surprise since The Suburbs' grand statement, however conflicted, seems so universal. After all, we are, in the end, talking about kids. Seeking fulfillment of the promises of youth. Seeking for connection long since abandoned: brothers, sisters, friends, hopes, dreams. Seeking for innocence, purity, goodness. Kids just like you and me.

2. Teen Dream / Beach House

Beach House's glimmering pop is best exemplified by "Norway," the first single from the band's magnificent third album, Teen Dream. The Baltimore duo of Victoria LeGrand and Alex Scally replace some of the dreamy and drawn-out atmosphere found on 2008's Devotion with a greater sense of light-filled urgency. Stunning stuff.

Teen Dream is a shimmering masterpiece of mood and melody. Gorgeous and beguiling, the hazy album is the sonic equivalent of waves breaking on a sun-dappled morning beach, of lovers holding hands on a lidless night. The ooohs and aaahs are shrouds of misty texture, and the deliberate beats beam from an intrusive moon. At times gentle, the music, for all of its organ-droned, ethereal loveliness, still has its moments of self-assured thrust, and it is ultimately carried by LeGrand's loveblown vocal delivery. The stories of youth and romance, taken aloft by the music's rich fantasy, are grounded in the real world by LeGrand's earthy, lived-in voice.

"Zebra" propels forward on the back of Scally's rippling guitars and crests in a spray of color and chorus: "Anyway you run, you run before us / black and white horse / arching before us." "Silver Soul" yearns for something other than heartbreak, while "Lover of Mine" and "10 Mile Stereo" move with magnetic beats and LeGrand's near-mystical incantations. Musically, the album appears suspended, mid-air, among gossamer threads of longing, heartache, and passion; a web of timeless beauty.

The D Man possesses a fierce attraction to this record, and the music's durability, listen after listen, has been nothing short of intoxicating. Like some powerful elixir, The D Man simply cannot get enough of the album's overarching vibe. Teen Dream is the album Beach House was destined to make. A classic.

3. Age of Adz / Sufjan Stevens

The most (re)inventive album of the year. To summarize: over the last decade, Sufjan has (1) recorded his eclectic debut (A Sun Came), (2) composed an electronic album devoted to the animals of the Chinese Zodiac (Year of the Rabbit), (3) regenerated the immaculate beauty of his home state (Michigan), (4) recorded a quiet folk album of dialogic devotion (Seven Swans), (5) orchestrated the greatest American album of the last ten years (Illinois), (6) released the magical detritus from the Illinois sessions (The Avalanche), (7) shared several years of private Christmas recordings (Songs for Christmas), (8) honored the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway in a symphonic and cinematic tribute (The BQE), and (9) collaborated with countless artists and musical friends.

Despite his substantial output, Sufjan did not release a proper album for more than five years. We waited and worried. He surfaced last year and said he had lost faith in the album, even faith in the song. He was obviously wrestling with the weight of impressive achievements and enormous expectations. The D Man pleaded with him to remain, to reconsider, to recuperate and reinvent, if necessary. We needed the album, we needed the song. Especially from him.

Enter 2010. Sufjan released the lengthy All Delighted EP, and right on its heels, the fascinating album Age of Adz. While the All Delighted EP consisted of rococo pleasures consistent with Sufjan's previous efforts, Age of Adz was a departure in many ways, certainly from the soaring symphonic folk of the much-beloved Illinois. Age of Adz was an intergalactic exploration of the Self, an electronic and orchestral attempt to find a heartbeat again. And, gratefully, it did. The album succeeded on cosmic levels, and it instantly became another iteration of Sufjan's creative and cognitive abilities.

Age of Adz, in Sufjan's words, is "really obsessed with sensation and has a hysterical melodrama to it." This is readily apparent when listening to the record (easily the best headphone experience of the year), and especially after seeing the new songs performed live. The D Man previously shared his feelings from that indelible concert, and now offers up the Sufjan live experience as the ultimate expression of the album.

4. High Violet / The National

It takes an ocean not to break. The National's High Violet comes in supple waves. Of sophisticated post-rock. Of anthemic breakdowns. Of mega-chorus brilliance. The album's craftsmanship is mature and assured, while the lyrics bely any sense of confidence in the wake of relationships, families, and communities on the edge. And while the tone is somewhat ominous, High Violet's energy somehow feels brighter, more magnanimous than previous efforts.

In addition to the dark-hued grandeur, the songs also possesses subtle charms that, like earlier releases, continue to take shape and grow with each listen. As the songs coalesce and reveal deeply-felt, personal projections, one gets the distinct impression that The National may be the best band playing today. Indeed, the album lives as a dense collection of brilliant songs. And there may not be a better three-song run (this year) than the album's fifth, sixth, and seventh tracks, the brooding backbone of High Violet's world-weary vibe.

"Afraid of Everyone," with emblematic American metaphors, describes a family man's paralyzing fears, and as the song reaches a foreboding crescendo ("your voice is swallowing my soul, soul, soul"), one is left wondering whether it is a call to battle or a plea for retreat:

I'll defend my family with my orange umbrella
I'm afraid of everyone, I'm afraid of everyone
With my shiny new star
Spangled tennis shoes on
I'm afraid of everyone, I'm afraid of everyone

With my kid on my shoulders I'll try
Not to hurt anybody I like
But I don't have the drugs to sort
I don't have the drugs to sort it out.

On "Bloodbuzz Ohio," Matt Berninger's narrow baritone takes flight with (a swarm of bees) and an exquisite rock'n'roll arrangement that lesser bands scarce can comprehend. An ode to home and distance (most of the band originally hails from Ohio), the song's centerpiece is a kind of physical, spoken-out-loud catharsis, a personal confession, an admission that resistance to love is (finally) impossible:

I still owe money to the money to the money I owe
I never thought about love when I thought about home
I still owe money to the money to the money I owe
The floors are falling out from everybody I know
I'm on a bloodbuzz
Yes I am
I'm on a bloodbuzz

And "Lemonworld" depicts a young man who gave his heart to the Army ("only sentimental thing I could think of") and is now drowning in the meaningless pursuits and material illusions of those around around him.

I'm too tired to drive anyway, anyway right now
Do you care if I stayed?
You can put on your bathing suits
And I'll try to find somethin' on this thing that means nothin' enough
Losin' my breath

You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
I want to sit in and die.

High Violet is not kids stuff. The album's textured production, lyrical heft, and instrumental sophistication offer little solace to those merely seeking a good time, an easy way out. The National provide few answers, other than a sense of relief at getting the right words out, and doing the songs justice. The music requires a willingness to descend into vivid realms of meaning and mood. The end result is heavy, thrilling.

5. Contra / Vampire Weekend

Vampire Weekend has more rhythm, funk, syncopation, and flow than nine out of every ten rappers. The Columbia-grads put on two great shows this year and sounded tight, inspired, and fresh. Contra is a natural extension of the band's phenomenal debut, and the album shines after getting waxed with additional eccentricities. These guys are keepers.

Thankfully, the band's sophomore album stays faithful to their sonic identity while also expanding into varied musical spaces. The ebullient production allows the band to redefine their intellectual indie-pop with genre-defying songs. Contra is mature, perhaps more subtle in parts than its predecessor, but it never sacrifices its sense of playfulness and, notably, its sense of joy.

Ezra Koenig's literate allusions to the obscure or arch-elite continue to impress. His observations are as sharp as the band's precise and inimitable musical direction. Best line on the album (or maybe any album this year): "The little stairway / A little piece of carpet / A pair of mirrors that are facing one another / Out in both directions / A thousand little Julias / That come together / In the middle of Manhattan."

Opening track "Horchata" is the perfect late-winter antidote, while "White Sky" breaks through the cloud cover with a series of chorus yelps as only Koenig can deliver. (The keyboards alone on these tracks are worth paying full admission). Other favorites: the escapist electro-violins of "Run," the ultra-fast drum fills and prickly guitars of "Cousins," the sing-along chorus and bridge of "Giving Up the Gun," and the reggae-fied nostalgia of "Diplomat's Son."

Some misguided listeners have questioned the band's authenticity. After all, didn't they get an Ivy-league education? (Yes.) Didn't they grow up in upper-class privilege? (Sort of.) Didn't they exploit globe-trotting musical references by bringing them to the masses? (And your point?) The D Man has little time for identity politics when listening to music, especially music this diverse and refreshing. When assessing artistic merit, socio-economics never held much sway for The D Man. So Van Gogh was poor. So Picasso was rich. Interesting, no doubt. But that does not necessarily mean that "Sunflowers" is greater than "Guernica."

Likewise, if Ezra Koenig can so convincingly break down Congolese soukous inside an Upper West Side narrative, it makes little difference what high school he went to--The D Man will be listening. Indeed, few complain when Lil' Wayne exploits his quasi-surroundings for serious monetary gain, and he doesn't even write compelling songs, something Koenig seems incapable of doing. But when your skin color is of the paler variety, heaven forbid you co-opt culture and music that moves you. You're called a cloy.

But I digress. Vampire Weekend seems to have few musical horizons, especially when considering how effective--and comfortable--the band is when playing with electro-pop, new wave, Afro-ryhthms, punk, and whatever else catches their fancy. The D Man's only advice: Go on, go on, go on.

6. Halcyon Digest / Deerhunter

Remember that cool but weird kid who sat at the back of the class? He drew pictures on the back of notebooks and didn't pay attention. He hung out in the halls, rarely came to Algebra, and skipped school dances. But he had great hair, and you heard he played in a band somewhere. Well, this is the album he finally made. And like you expected, it is pretty damn awesome.

Halcyon Digest is a musical journal of sorts, depictions of influential sonic memories that affected that strange kid--in this case, Bradford Cox, the musical force behind Deerhunter and Atlas Sound. The D Man's entry point into Cox's private world of inspiration was Atlas Sound's excellent 2009 album Logos, and Halcyon Digest is filled with similar entries of striking and blissful pysche-pop, observed, recorded, and obviously transformed by Cox and his bandmates.

The album is divergent, all washed-out bedroom pop or sixties rock, with a homespun quality that feels faithful and sincere. The intracacies are astounding yet sound so effortless. The songs are a testament to underthinking and overplaying, the instinctual foray into cherished and poignant moments of musicmaking. The best examples of Deerhunter's experimentation are drenched in watery psyche-drippings or off-the-cuff guitars that sound familiar and exciting all at once. The end result: a towering, yet private, indie-rock record.

7. This Is Happening / LCD Soundsystem

James Murphy has been building monuments of cool for the better part of a decade, and This Is Happening is his Parthenon. LCD Soundsystem's in-the-zeitgeist, post-dancerock, electronic metroplex is a masterpiece (and mashup) of club and indie music, a pulsing production parked in the middle of the urban universe. Witty, accessible, hip, and heady, This Is Happening reconstructs the notion of what it means to be a rock'n'roll god.

Murphy compresses post-punk, new wave, and club music into sprawling musical enterprises, and he rarely strays from stylish production and clever conceits, resulting in brainy climaxes throughout the entire record. For example, at the three-minute mark, opening track "Dance Yrself Clean" explodes into electro-funk euphoria, and other tracks contain similar moments of that-was-cool clarity.

"One Touch" is pulsating post-disco, "I Can Change" is groovy electro-pop, and "Home" is feel- good krautrock. "Pow Pow" is the album's cool epicenter, and, notably, there are few artists that could produce something so audacious, exciting, and catchy. On The D Man's favorite track, Murphy sings "You wanted a hit / but maybe we don't do hits." Ummmmm, right, have you been listening? If you heard this album for the first time while entering a record store, you would not make it out alive--like entering into the hippest wormhole in the time-space continuum, the vortex keeps spinning around until you succumb to the outer reaches of coolness. You wanted a hit? Baby, you just got something bigger.

8. Forget / Twin Shadow

Forget combines the rich, dark, and lovelorn elements of 1980's pop music into a record that transcends genre. George Lewis, Jr. (aka Twin Shadow) skillfully uses tropes of the era--dramatic synthesizers, down-cast drum machines, somber guitar-lines--to give a meaningful and mysterious undercurrent to the romance and heartbreak of his music. The results are dazzling.

The sound of the album exists somewhere in the hazy space between dance and pop music; the soft glow of Chris Taylor's (Grizzly Bear) production casts an intimate shadow over the entire record, giving a late-night and alone-together quality to the music. Lyrically, the record conjures up visual nostalgia tailor-made for individual listeners; the excitement of new relationships, the heat of sexual drama, and the dissolution of love are exquisitely enveloped in a veil of intimacy. Atmosphere is everything.

If David Bowie had anything left in his creative tank after 1983's Let's Dance, he might have made an album that sounded like Forget. (Rather than the forgettable Tonight). With allusive nods to Morrissey, Depeche Mode, Echo & The Bunnymen, and even the general idea of what the 1980's were supposed to sound like, Twin Shadow has transformed revivalism and created something telling and timely.

9. Admiral Fell Promises / Sun Kil Moon

Few artists can carry an album with just a guitar in their hands. On Admiral Fell Promises, singer-songwriter Mark Kozelek plays completely solo on the nylon-string guitar; classical flourishes accompany novel-like passages of lost loves and foregone places, lending a stark and spiritual gravity to the latest songs from Sun Kil Moon's increasing (and impressive) catalog. To be clear, this music is not on trend. Indeed, there was nothing else released this year that could match Kozelek's private and singular intensity, and the music's sense of timelessness. That feeling elicited a sense of mystery that was difficult to describe, listen after listen.

The album's deep-set tone is established by opener "Alesund;" with its intricate classical fingerpicking, the song immediately pulls you in with its spacious, meditative introduction. The narrator then moves into epic introspection, reflecting on a muse that is both person and place, the Scandinavian beauty of the song's namesake. Other highlights include "Third and Seneca" (another road trip marked by the passage of time, place, and heartache), "You Are My Sun" (as lovely as anything The Beatles ever recorded), and "Admiral Fell Promises" (a private reassurance to a signature love).

When The D Man introduced Sun Kil Moon for my brother's 40th birthday party (a thrill I will never forget), I told the audience that "Mark's music compels listeners to contemplate their mortality, and moves listeners to become more wholly themselves." Admiral Fell Promises is no exception.

10. Plastic Beach / Gorillaz

When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around. On their third studio album, Plastic Beach, Gorillaz dream up a new kind of ecology, a new kind of green. Given the synthetic leftovers from the end of days, it is time to rebuild, reorganize, and reaffirm the power of plastic, and ultimately escape to a sustainable island refuge. These are not cartoon monkeys anymore; they are primates with a plan.

Damon Albarn's once-virtual band thrives in the popular arena, and his latest creation is an eclectic mishmash of electronica, hip-hop, pop, and retro-soul, that faithfully delivers the album's visual message in a way that lyrics never could. Easily one of the most enjoyable listens of the year (and Gorillaz' best album to date), Plastic Beach features guest performances from Snoop Dogg, Mos Def, Lou Reed, De La Soul, Gruff Rhys, and Bobby Womack, among others, and the trove of pop offerings is worthy of an island paradise, albeit one born of ingenuity and studio magic. The record features some of the best production of the year, and further suggests that Albarn is a renaissance man of sorts.

"Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach" features Snoop Dogg's most inspired work in years. "Stylo" is a combination of futuristic synths and retro stylings, thanks to singular turns at the mic from Albarn, Mos Def, and Bobby Womack, who apparently free-styled his powerful verses off the top of his head ("In another world, in the universe!"). "Superfast Jellyfish" is more than an inside joke, as it makes perfect use of De La Soul's wit and Gruff Rhys' melodic charms. Lest listeners come away with the notion that reinvention is all fun and games, several tracks contain a yearning kind of melancholy that breathes humanity into the record.

"On Melancholy Hill" and "Empire Ants" are the best tracks on the album, and the perfect examples of Albarn's considerable production skills without sacrificing aching, heartfelt emotions. "Meloncholy Hill" floats over a memorable, lilting synth-line that reaches the sublime when a crestfallen Albarn sings the chorus: "Cause you are my medicine / when you're close to me." "Empire Ants" is a master class in seamless juxtaposition; what begins with Albarn's windblown vocals amid dreamy keys and strums, suddenly turns into electronic transcendence with a thrilling vocal performance from Little Dragon.

Welcome to the Plastic Beach!

11. Gemini / Wild Nothing

Wild Nothing's dreamy, shoegaze guitar-pop hints at the ineffable. Gemini is awash with starry-eyed synths, crystalline guitars, and fuzzy atmospherics, reimagining a vein of iridescent, wistful, 1980's pop music, where the answers just lead to more questions. Jack Tatum's debut is an understated affair that sulks, seeps, and sears into listeners romance-fueled memories, and the album is a clear indication that he is an unabashed fan of his brooding, mysterious, and melodic forebears, the touchstones that mopey teens of yesteryear listened to and adored (Joy Division, The Cure, The Cocteau Twins, to name just a few).

As an aside, and in the spirit of full disclosure, The D Man is beholden to new wave and many of its permutations. The reasons are deep-seated and likely originate from happy, early years in a lower middle-class neighborhood, listening to the magical (and seemingly exotic) music older brothers brought home. Upon further reflection, and apart from my native affinity for the distinctive sounds of that era (the icy guitars! the evocative keyboards! the vocal deliveries!), social dynamics and musical elements also play into an affection for popular music's reawakening after rock'n'roll's glorious implosion. After twenty-five years of rock music, its excesses, its machismo, its blues-oriented sound, and its culmination in punk, listening to the intelligent artists of the loosely-defined new wave feels like starting over. Like painting with a new brush and new colors. Moreover, these same artists brought long overdue emotions back into the sonic landscape: sadness, melancholy, longing, romance.

Gemini captures all of this sepia-toned nostalgia, and along with the excellent Golden Haze EP, it is a breathtaking demonstration of the elusive genre's experimentation, complexity, and production. Indeed, Wild Nothing's evocative debut is another example of new wavers meaningful contributions to current indie musicians, almost as if the 1960's never happened. And for some, like The D Man, they never did.

12. Go / Jónsi

Jón (“Jónsi”) Pór Birgisson, the frontman for Sigur Rós, seems like he is from another planet. Given the sonic palette of his solo debut, it would be a lush, dreamy world of vegetation and color, prone to occassional fits of weeping rain. Like Pandora. Isn't he wearing feathers on the album's cover?

Go is a remarkable symph-pop record--inspiring, even--with beautiful flourishes of flutes, horns, percussions, and strings. Indeed, avant-garde indie-composer Nico Muhly's string arrangments are heavenly, while Samuli Kosminen's poly-rhythmic percussions help the music feel earthworn, elemental. "Go Do," as its title suggests, runs with wide-eyed, unbridled abandon ("We should always know that we can do anything"); "Animal Arithmetic" celebrates life's joyous cacophonies ("We should all be alive!); and "Boy Lillikoi" urges individual illumination ("We all grow old, use your life, the world goes and flutters by"). From other artists, these sentiments would sound trite; for Jónsi, they are empowered with wonder and innocence.

How is Go different from a Sigur Rós record? There seems to be a tighter pop-song focus--perhaps a natural extension from the first-half of 2008's splendid Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust--and the result is warmer, denser, more intimate than the ethereal, sometimes alien wonders of Sigur Rós. Jónsi also sings entirely in English, however, for most songs, it appears to make little difference, as his vocal intonations remain otherwordly.

Jónsi is now burdened with a stunning back catalog, and all of his efforts, solo or otherwise, may be unfairly weighed against his singular output. To be sure, had Go been our first listen to his distinctive world, it would have garnered more attention, and it would have been included in more discussions of the year's best albums. We simply take for granted beautiful things that we have seen or heard before. Regardless, there remains immense listening satisfaction from the record's sense of treasure, its sense of being untainted, unfound.

13. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy / Kanye West

Don't believe the hype. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy has bite, but it is not a better listen than Kanye's previous albums, particularly the multi-faceted flow of The College Dropout or the candy-gloss shine of Graduation. The album is strong, no doubt, but it is not once-in-a-generation material.

In a genre with few interesting moments this year (yes, that means you hip-hop, minus this song, of course), Kanye is hailed by critics as the latest and greatest hope, and this album is viewed as the most audacious rap record of the past several years. There is little doubt that Kanye is a better recordmaker than his peers, but The D Man is confused as to why this effort has garnered such over-the-top praise. We rave about his self-awareness, his honesty, his bravado, but with so few competitors, where exactly is the critical bar? Where does dirty self-congratulation end and true lyrical deftness begin? (Note to parents: The D Man highly recommends the edited version). Several of the tracks are massive and original, while others result in numbing fatigue, and the album's sum total is an erratic depiction of a talented but troubled soul.

So why the Top Twenty? Despite the above disclaimer, the record still has potent musical moments, and the artist's attempt at global pop domination is too convincing to overlook. Kanye culls inspiration from all of his previous material, and his hard-hitting and bombastic production (great samples and guest stars abound) give life to his innermost grievances, fantasies, and lyrical postulations. (Best line: "Too many Urkels on your team/ that's why your Winslow.") The songs are wide-ranging and, for good or ill, depict the many faces of Kanye: Kanye, the grand minister of inspiration ("Dark Fantasy"); Kanye, the dark-tribal overlord ("POWER"); Kanye, the pensive relationship-hero ("Runaway"); Kanye, the furious MC tag-teamer ("Monster"); Kanye, the major hit-maker ("All the Lights"); Kanye, the hedonistic apologist (multiple tracks). You get the idea; the man is so complex. But with so many different faces, one is left wondering: will the real Kanye please stand up?

14. Infinite Arms / Band of Horses

We're Band of Horses. And we're from America. Three albums in, Band of Horses has established itself as a quintessential American band that successfully blurs the boundaries of indie-rock, folk, and country, and continually makes some of the best open-road music of the day. Infinite Arms is a comfortable collection of tunes, filled with sweet guitars, accessible hooks, and leisurely harmonies, and it feels about as well-worn as your old plaid button-up.

Taking off from previous releases, opening track "Factory" features a rising chorus backed by heavy-hearted strings, and the song successfully pulls off a "snack machine" reference. Second track "Compliments" is a zippy rocker, while third track "Laredo" is wide-open, American country-rock, easily the best driving song of the summer. From there, the album moves through Shins-like shuffles ("On My Way Back Home"), dreamy pysche-folk ("Infinite Arms"), poppy guitar-pop ("Dilly"), and back-porch reveries ("Evening Kitchen," "Older"). There is no rush, no hurry, especially when all the parts equal more than the sum, and the sum equals none . . . .

If Everything All the Time was their swirling reflection of the Northwest, and Cease to Begin their shimmering return to the South, then Infinite Arms is the band's meandering, shuffling trek West, with big skies, empty roads, and welcoming porches ahead. So keep on moving.

15. Astro Coast / Surfer Blood

Astro Coast packages power-riffs, power chords, and power choruses with meticulous guitar arrangements, creating a big-sounding surf-rock record. The spacey guitars and buoyant melodies are the show, and the show delivers hook after hook that would make classic indie bands blush. Surfer Blood was made for Rock Band.

"Swim (To Reach the End)" is swelling and anthemic, a song that would have been comfortable on MTV's 120 Minutes in the early 1990's. "Floating Vibes" is attention-grabbing, dueling guitar-pop, and "Harmonix" patiently builds, cresting at intervals, just like, you guessed it, waves of the ocean. But passing off Surfer Blood as merely an alt-rock revivalist with a penchant for water imagery (the name, the album cover, the song titles) discounts the promising guitar intricacy--and intuitive feel for a great hook--that imbues the band's entire debut record. After hearing Surfer Blood play live, there is little to doubt: crowdsurfing is encouraged.

16. Spoon / Transference

Spoon guts their last album's full-bodied production, leaving behind only thin membranes of guitar, piano, and Britt Daniel's pointy vocals. But the result is spare, brainy rock'n'roll consistent with some of their best work, if not downright subversive in its barebones construction. The Austin band's post-punk and garage-rock come unadorned, yet, surprisingly, bursts of groove and space still give way to seriously funky moments.

To call this album challenging would be a disservice, especially considering past efforts Kill the Moonlight or Gimme Fiction, and perhaps that sentiment is more of a nod to Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga's polished accessibility. Transference is merely another shift in the band's relentless desire to make intriguing music in what can be a tired genre. Like The White Stripes, Spoon rarely compromises its approach to rockmaking, blasting away at the construction of songs, or in this case, ripping out their heart and stringing the pieces together.

17. The Drums / The Drums

In a year of exquisite and nuanced 1980's revivalism, The Drums self-titled debut is straightforward, late-decade, Anglo guitar-pop that pleases at almost every turn. The Drums limited sonic vocabulary is effervescent (rather than an impediment), as the Brooklyn-via-Florida band understands their influences and wears them on their big-hearted sleeves.

Lead singer Jonathan Pierce prances, struts, and sings with an overwhelming sense of romance and a deep longing for connecting to his musical forerunners. His lyrical hooks are simple by design, and they are the perfect compliment to Jacob Graham's spindly guitar work. The tinny drums bely the album's solid production, but that may also be an intentional retro vibe in addition to the handclaps, reverb, keyboards, and harmonies that permeate the band's singular sound. A strong, imminently listenable debut.

18. Troubadours

Fionn Regan and Kristian Mattson (aka The Tallest Man on Earth) are folk troubadours in the finest sense. An impeccable sense of songcraft weaves its way through their sophomore albums, Shadow of an Empire and The Wild Hunt, respectively.

Fionn Regan's debut was a masterful folk record in the vein of Nick Drake and Bob Dylan, albeit more propulsive than Drake and more pastoral than Dylan. On Shadow of an Empire, the Irish lad plugs in and leaves the acoustic guitar behind for a few tracks, driving home a ragged (but always melodic) rockabilly with his usual literate flair. A formidable, second triumph.

Kristian Mattson's voice always leads to comparisons with Dylan, and, indeed, his spare acoustic production is a folk-revival of sorts, even though his songs are decidedly forward-looking in their ultimate tone. The Wild Hunt displays Mattson's vibrant finger-picking and vocal agility, and his strange Southern drawl swagger (again) belies his Swedish roots. Heady, dexterous, and enthralling stuff.

19. The Place We Ran From / Tired Pony

Tired Pony's strong debut came as something of a surprise. The individual members of the so-called supergroup are certainly talented in their own right (Gary Lightbody, Peter Buck, Richard Colburn, Jacknife Lee, etc), but their proposed collection of "country" songs--something Lightbody has always wanted to record--failed to garner much enthusiasm from critics or The D Man. Turns out, shame on anyone who didn't pick up this excellent set of somewhat dark, mellifluous tunes.

The Place We Ran From contains an assortment of Americana: late-night scorchers ("Get On the Road," recorded with indie-darling Zooey Deschanel), strong alt-country rockers ("Dead American Writers"), catchy sing-alongs ("I Am a Landslide"), early R.E.M.-sounding outtakes ("Point Me at Lost Islands"), and tracks that belong in late-night-drive movie scenes teetering between bewilderment and self-pity ("The Good Book," "Pieces"). Ultimately, the best thing about this record may be Lightbody's jump from the mainstream, and his ability to use his brilliant voice in entirely new contexts.

20. Treats / Sleigh Bells

Treats sounds like a bunch of physcadelic cheerleaders playing extremely loud rock music. Yep, that's about it. At least the album cover is somewhat telling. The D Man's sister's cheerleading squad should do a Sleigh Bells routine during halftime of a high school basketball game. Now that would be a real treat. As for the album, it is a total one-off (not sure where Sleigh Bells go from here), but it is definitely fun until the final horn sounds.

Ten Best Musical Moments of 2010

(The D Man, Rizzo, and Rip prepare for Sun Kil Moon)

Music is a private and communal experience. In 2010, The D Man, as always, enjoyed great musical moments in solitude and with others. These were the ten best.

• 10. Enjoying Fallon's spot-on version of "Pants on the Ground" as Neil Young.
• 9. Listening to LCD Soundsystem's "Pow Pow" with Rizzo and Schwarzy on the Vegas Strip.
• 8. Hearing "M79," live, two times in the same year.
• 7. Watching Conan O'Brien play "Freebird" with Will Ferrell and company during his last Tonight Show.
• 6. Listening to Beach House's Teen Dream while driving on the Pacific Coast highway after a great day at Lego Land.
• 5. Hitting the high notes on "Is There A Ghost" during the Band of Horses show.
• 4. Listening to Declaration of Dependence at least thirty times all the way through. Listening to the same while bringing my third son home from the hospital.
• 3. Introducing High Violet to Viwe Xozwa, my (much darker) South African counterpart, during a beautiful autumn drive in the mountains.
• 2. Attending the Sufjan Stevens concert, and specifically, experiencing the 30-minute existential catharsis of "Impossible Soul."
• 1. Watching Mark Kozelek play in my brother's backyard, and listening to "Salvador Sanchez" under the late-summer night sky.