I write these posts about a week or so in advance, and when preparing this one, it hit me that I’m about to get to the stretch of posts spanning Election Day and its aftermath. Gulp.
Four years ago, I spent the lead-up to the election posting songs from the 30 Days, 30 Songs project, in which artists took musical shots at Donald Trump in the name of raising money and turning out the vote.
It didn’t work, obviously.
‘The Wicked MEssenger’ is a track from Bob Dylan’s 1967 album John Wesley Harding, the first record he released after his mysterious motorcycle accident a year earlier.
Dylas has said the accident gave him an excuse to “get out of the rat race” after a two-year span that saw the release of three classic, era-defining releases (Bringing it All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde). John Wesley Harding was a far quieter, less mind-bending album than that trio.
When I was at the height of my Rufus Wainwright mania, in the mid-2000s, my go-to answer for “favorite album ever” was Wainwright’s Want One. So it’s kind of a no-brainer as my #1 album of 2003.
Wainwright has released only two pop albums in the last 13 years, detouring into opera and piano instrumentals, so my devotion has waned. I couldn’t really get into the album he released this year, Unfollow the Rules.
I discovered Josh Rouse after the release of his 2005 album Nashville, a record I count among one of my all-time top ten. I quickly gobbled up his previous four albums, all great, and especially loved 1972.
Titled after Rouse’s birth year (and mine), 1972 blends sounds and styles of the 70s with Rouse’s alt-pop sensibility, dabbling in a little Carole King here, a little Marvin Gaye there. Though it’s a concept album in the strictest sense, it doesn’t feel fussed over. He’s too good a songwriter for it to feel anything but authentic.
I’ve agonized over the order of my top three albums of 2003, because each of the albums is wonderful and fully worthy of the top spot. I guess that’s a good problem to have.
Belle and Sebastian’s sixth studio album, Dear Catastrophe Waitress, was a sonic departure from their lo-fi indie output. The band enlisted pop producer Trevor Horn, who gave a bright polish to the music and pushed the band into more upbeat, pop-rock territory.
Meet Me In Montauk 