Best Albums of 2002

It was a year for sliding record sales and soaring triumphs above ground and below. Choler finds the high notes from the year that was.

By Eric Solomon, Joseph McCombs and Sean Flinn | January 3, 2003 THE PAST IS PROLOGUE Joseph McCombs -- Senior Staff Writer It's always hard to do these best-of lists -- not for lack of material, but because every year, there's simply more material released than I can ever hope to listen to. F'rinstance, the astute reader will note the absence here of Coldplay's Rush of Blood to the Head. While I'm sure it's a marvelous album, I just didn't get around to listening to it, so I can't legitimately give it a place at my table. The same goes for Bruce Springsteen's The Rising, an album whose absence here is, I'm sure, tantamount to treason for many Americans. (Hopefully none of you.) With that disclaimer in mind, here's my countdown of the albums that crossed my desk in 2002 and gave me the biggest and best reactions. Honorable Mention: Ryan Adams, Demolition -- Far more erratic than 2001's masterstroke Gold, but at least he exhibited some heart and ambition in the tracks, which is more than could be said for much of what came down the pike this year. Honorable Mention: Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots -- Wayne Coyne and company keep on playing those mind games together. 10. Beth Orton - Daybreaker Orton's dispassioned, calculated deliveries lend the perfect chill to these equally calculated oceanswept tracks. Like PJ Harvey's Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea, Orton's Daybreaker uses the album template to create an image of escape as something hollow yet necessary. The striking title track particularly reinforces this notion. Robbie Williams may have titled his latest album Escapology, but this is the disc that actually teaches the course material. Even if it is in a rather dark fashion. [buy this album] 9. Pet Shop Boys - Release These are not your father's Pet Shop Boys. Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe have traded in bombastic synth riffs and wry, sarcastic bon mots for subtle beats and love paens that actually approach the sincere. But if you can deal with a 45-minute disco dirge downer, the contemplative Release actually shows itself to be the most consistent PSB album in years. Neil may have lost his sense of humor (love songs to Eminem notwithstanding), but an equally enjoyable sense of security has taken its place. [buy this album] 8. Indigo Girls - Become You It's become all too easy to take the Indigo Girls for granted: they release albums with such regularity and with such consistent tastefulness that it's easy to forget about a new disc in favor of revisiting an older one. But while previous Girls albums could be deftly summarized (the folk disc, the loving-harmony disc, the political disc), Become You is far more subtle in matters both personal and political. The overarching theme on Become You is a growing maturity in assessing relationships (including the wisdom of recognizing one's own immaturity), and both Emily's and Amy's takes on the topic are so touching, so effortlessly melodic, you don't mind at all that they didn't crank out anything as instantly memorable as, say, "Least Complicated." One doesn't always need to sing along with Indigo Girls songs to enjoy them, after all. [buy this album] 7. Aimee Mann - Lost in Space Woe be the lover who's aroused the disdain and distrust of Aimee Mann's album persona in her latest work. Using the metaphor of addiction to cast a cynical light on all aspects of relationships, Mann turns Valentine's Day into Black Friday -- yet so unswervingly melodically that you keep coming back for more. Like a drug. [buy this album] [read Choler's review] 6. David Gray - A New Day at Midnight The tasteful Mr. Gray picks up right where he left off last year, with more piano-driven AAA anthems equally heavy on rhythm, melodicism, and lyricism. To the extent that we need a Bruce Hornsby for this decade, Gray fills the role nicely, with "The Other Side" being one of the most sterling and striking ballads of the past decade. Plus, no fears of "Babylon"-like radio overkill like last time. [buy this album] 5. Nuclear Valdez - In a Minute All Could Change You've probably never heard of this band, and even if so, you've almost certainly never heard of this album. Nuclear Valdez had a brief moment in the MTV spotlight back in 1990 with a minor modern-rock hit called "Summer," then faded into obscurity and went on hiatus for the better part of a decade. In recent years they've reformed and begun songwriting again, and finally compiled these efforts into a CD this summer on the tiny One Way Records label. Distribution's been minimal and they've not yet toured in support of the release, but I was one of the fortunate who got a promotional view of what modern rock sounds like in the hands of mature Cuban-Americans. In a Minute ... is a straight-ahead album of sensible rockers, one of those few discs that can truly lay claim to the "no filler" label. Track this one down, before it falls out of print. [buy this album] 4. David Bowie - Heathen I want the not-so-young Americans. Knowing that David Bowie still has the haunting "Slow Burn" inside him makes one almost wish he'd not spend so many years on techno/industrial experiments (knowing full well that experiments are what Bowie is all about). His lyrics on Heathen, while not written about the 9/11 tragedy, nevertheless carry that event's feelings of portented doom, of helpless railing, of choosing for once to go home instead of remaining in exploration. A powerful recording from someone who never ceases to be thought-provoking. [buy this album]  [read Choler's review] 3. Pulp - We Love Life This album actually came out in 2001 in the band's native England, but because some multinat label execs don't know their asses from holes in the ground, no attempt was made to break the band here in the States, and so We Love Life did not see these shores until 2002. A shame, really, as it's a marvelous record. Where Different Class had been a masterwork of youthful passion and This Is Hardcore a masterwork of dark cynicism, We Love Life synthesizes the two into a masterwork of maturity. Jarvis Cocker doesn't howl as he used to -- he doesn't need to. The words are enough to stand on their own quiet demands, and the backing musicianship is no less powerful for its newfound subtlety. Every year, my Top 10 list includes at least one album that no one got the chance to hear during the year but that I urge upon all who have ears to hear; along with Nuclear Valdez, this is it. [buy this album] 2. Starsailor - Love Is Here Another "Love" album. Starsailor had the full glare of MTV buzz on them for about five minutes, and nothing materialized from it as far as I can tell -- except for the fanhood of me and presumably a few others. The soaring vocals and all-too-earnest lyrics may strike some as cloying, but it was such a refreshing pace to see someone express emotions directly -- and not emotions like "break stuff" -- that one almost feels guilty deducting style points on grounds of unsubtlety. Coldplay and Travis may be better known around these parts, but I'll bestow the troubadouric crown on James Walsh and company … if only for this year. [buy this album] 1. Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot Is there a critic out there who didn't include this album in her/his Top 10 list? It's an in-joke among critics to say that an album "rewards repeat listens" (that's to say, an album's unlistenable the first time through but must be justified as important somehow), but the phrase in its unironized context fits this album better than any other in recent memory. Only through repeated listens does one really start to get a sense of Jeff Tweedy's worldview, understand what he means when he "assassin[s] down the avenue." The oft-oblique lines in Yankee Hotel Foxtrot have a poetic charm that, as one familiarizes oneself with it, actually turns into truth in time. And all that white noise beautifully serves the album's purpose of demonstrating the challenges endemic to direct communication. Wilco no longer makes a case for being the nation's greatest alt-country band -- with YHF, they're making a strong case for being the most important band in America, full stop. Oh, and with the gorgeously mournful fiddle and vocal interplay on "Jesus, Etc.," they narrowly beat out Missy Elliott's "Work It" for Best Song of 2002 as well. [buy this album]  [read Choler's review] Previous |