Monday, April 05, 2010

Best Of The Decade

I spend too much time thinking about stuff. Pointless, meaningless stuff. Way too much time. Let me give you an example…

Sometime around Thanksgiving 2009, I spotted the first droplets heralding the deluge of "Best of the Decade" lists that was to come. I've always been fascinated by such lists, in particular the "Best X Songs of the Year/Decade/Millenium" lists that have been put together by Rolling Stone, Spin, Pitchfork, etc. I've always been something of a musical gourmand, and despite the arbitrary nature of picking a certain number of songs from within a certain time period, the mere fact that someone took the time to determine which songs were released during that period always left me both amused and amazed. Picking the top X favorites from within that time period struck me as the easiest part of the undertaking.

As much as I'd wanted to put together my own list, I had always been deterred by the mountain of research that stood between myself and the goal. Sometime in the last decade, however, a synergistic combination of iTunes, database technology and the internet have finally solved that problem for me. I had to spend a few hours populating the Year field in my iTunes library with the help of discogs.com (currently the best discography source on the net, IMHO), but beyond that the heavy lifting all came down to decision-making. That's about when the hard work started.

Did I mention that I think too much about pointless, meaningless stuff? I did? Okay. As of December 1, 2009 I had all the data in front of me. I was resolved to complete the list by December 31, 2010 at 9pm so I could play it at our New Year's Eve party. By Christmas Day I had compiled a list of 350 candidates. And that's about when the hard work started.

I quickly decided to follow the Ancient Laws of Mix Tape Creation, which state clearly, “Yay though many songs by one band may express the feelings you wish to convey, still shall you use only one song, so that the listener may experience the maximum number of new artists. So mote it be.” Of course, picking the song which best represents Foo Fighters in the 21st century was not an easy matter, and I don't even want to think about how many times I listened to My Chemical Romance's “The Black Parade” trying to determine which song deserved inclusion, but in less than 24 hours I was down to only 250 tracks. I cut another 20 or so when I decided that cover versions simply confused the issue too much; I wasn't happy about the removal of “Comfortably Numb” by The Scissor Sisters, but it had to be done. And that's about when the hard work started.

What followed was five days of soul-searching, staring at my laptop, repeatedly listening to 30-second clips of songs, agonizingly editing and re-editing my spreadsheet, asking random passers-by if including Kanye West made me a bad person (I'm told that he's a gay fish), and just generally scratching my head wondering how I got myself into this. I had to kill bands I love. I cut Justin Timberlake, then brought sexy back... I dropped Snoop like he was hot, then picked him back up once I'd cooled off... I had 99 problems, and Jay-Z was one. But eventually, it was time; if it wasn't for the last minute, I'd never know when to finish anything. At 8pm on New Year's Eve, I finally settled on my list of the Best 100 Songs of the Decade.

And that's about when the hard work started.

On January 2, 2010, I discovered that one of the songs (“My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit) was actually released in 1999. After listening to the playlist alphabetically, I decided I just couldn't justify the exclusion of Blink 182 while Angels & Airwaves made the cut. I kicked myself back and forth before I replaced the incredibly popular “This Ain't A Scene...” by Fall Out Boy with the virtually unknown, but ultimately superior, “Hum Hallelujah” from the same album. I argued over whether I could forgive myself for allowing Coldplay in just because the album was produced by Brian Eno. And then came the issue of ordering. That's about when the hard work started.

Did I mention that I think too much about pointless, meaningless stuff? I did? Okay. You see, I loved listening to the list in shuffle mode, but I just couldn't put it in a definite order. I tried ranking the songs, listing them alphabetically and chronologically, breaking them up by genre... nothing seemed satisfying. Of course, it didn't matter to me, but I had promised to publish the list online, not to mention several people that wanted the list burned to audio CDs (seven discs in all), and I had to do something about the order.

It was my friend Mimi who eventually proposed the obvious solution to me. “If you like it on shuffle, why don't you just post it in a random order?” she asked. Hmm... well I suppose I could whip up a little JavaScript, but what about the CD's? “Just burn each person's copy in an order generated randomly uniquely for them,” she suggested. Hmm... neat! Why didn't I think of that?

And so, finally, here it is. If you're just viewing the list online and you don't like the order, hit refresh and it will change. If you're reading this through RSS and don't see the list at the end of the post, go view it on my actual blog; I have no confidence whatsoever that the JavaScript I wrote will actually execute in any sort of feed-reader. If you receive a data CD of MP3's from me (or if you download it, once I post the BitTorrent file), I may include a randomly ordered playlist, but I still recommend that you simply put your music player of choice on shuffle mode and let the electronics handle it for you. And if you receive (or burn) audio CDs, well, you're stuck with the order you get (unless you own a seven-disc changer, I suppose), but at least you'll know that it is unique to you.

I have a lot more to say on many of these songs, and a list of notes regarding why I included them, which I'll hopefully post once I've cleaned them up a bit. In general, my criteria for the list were that it be listenable, personal, cross-genre, exceptional, and finally that I wouldn't be embarrassed by it in 10 years. Of course, I expect disagreement on many of my selections, and I encourage comments about both the songs you think I unfairly passed over and the songs you think I'm an idiot for including. Dissent is educational, and while I don't guarantee that I'll change the list for you, I can't guarantee that I won't. In the end, this is the beauty of the internet; nothing is true, all is illusion, and any mistake can both be immediately corrected and never be erased.