Continuing my look at 2004, first by counting down my own top ten albums of that year.
#8 – Ron Sexsmith – Retriever
I’ve given Canadian singer-songwriter Ron Sexsmith a bit of a hard time over his consistency and productivity.
He’s been putting out a solid album every year or two for 30 years, an enviable track record for any artist. But there’s a sameness to his style that makes all of those albums run together after awhile.
Continuing my look at 2004, first by counting down my own top ten albums of that year.
#9 – Keane – Hopes and Fears
The best debut albums are cooked up over time, assembling the best material from a young band’s formative years into a definitive opening statement.
Such was the case with Keane’s Hopes and Fears. The English alt-rock band formed in 1997 and played live shows in London for years, growing in popularity and eventually benefitting from a bidding war among major labels eager to sign them. They joined Island Records in 2003 and began working on this record, with many of its best tracks already in hand.
It’s time for another installment of the Decades series, wherein I write about the albums released in a given year across multiple decades. I’ve been on the 4s, having covered 1974, 1984 and 1994 so far. Which brings us to 2004.
I find I’m usually disappointed once I get to the first decade of the new millennium. My personal taste starts to veer away from the critical consensus. And indeed, almost none of the albums I picked as my ten favorite from this year showed up on lists of critic’s darlings.
I’m wrapping up the latest installment of my Decades series with a track from Britpop band Blur’s Parklife, a well-regarded 1994 album that became the band’s best-selling release in their native UK.
My only real exposure to Blur is through 1997’s ‘Song 2‘ (the “woohoo” song; you’ll know it when you hear it), so I was anticipating this album as an opportunity to discover something great.
When I saw that Pink Floyd’s The Division Bell came out in 1994, I couldn’t resist making it one of my featured albums.
Like most high school boys of my generation, I was a huge Pink Floyd fan. I knew most of their albums by heart, especially the run between 1971’s Meddle and 1983’s The Final Cut. By muscle memory alone, I can still sing or air guitar along to every note of Wish You Were Here, Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall.
Meet Me In Montauk 