25 \\ Jasmine (demo) \\ Jai Paul (2012)
"When I see you Jasmine \\ what's a boy to do? \\ Please come back to me \\ Make my dreams come true"
My first true taste of Jai Paul was during this 2015 interview with Caribou's Dan Snaith, and he kind of says it all. "Jasmine" is easily one of the most unpredictably bold sonic statements I've ever heard. It, along with first single "BTSTU," basically inspired entire genres by themselves this decade. Everyone from James Blake to Beyonce was following suit. And this was just a "demo." We may never know what the mythical 2010's genius truly had planned for this track. At this point, it doesn't even matter. Because what we have here is perfection.
I never expected the brothers Hanson to convert me 13 years after "MMMBop" was a thing. But with this slice of bluesy rock n' roll Americana, convert they did. I even saw them in concert that year. And it was great! As the decade went on, this upbeat declaration of independence from the clutches of a toxic heartbreak hit a little closer to home. Despite that, I continued to embrace the positive energy it brought to my inevitably large collection of sad sap tunes.
23 \\ Tempest \\ Low (2018)
Don't worry, your speakers aren't broken. That's what it's supposed to sound like. Few songs embody their namesake quite as effectively. Emotionally and sonically, "Tempest" is an abrasive behemoth that could take paint off of a wall, but its most grating moments are magnified by a quiet beauty at the eye of the storm. It is, quite literally, a physically daunting piece of music that captured an emotional desperation that was often impossible to articulate. If it doesn't hurt a little, you might need to turn it up.
"In time \\ In sync \\ Tonight the stage is yours \\ I'm hypnotized by your name \\ I wish this night would never end"
A sappy line like "I'm hypnotized by your name" shouldn't fit in a Deftones song. But when Chino cries to the skies, with Stephen Carpenter's soaring riffs around him, YOU BELIEVE. 25 years into their stellar career, and I can't think of a time the band sounded more euphoric than this. I even put it on an early love mix for my lil' Breet once. I thought it was a pretty romantic gesture, myself. It might have been a little much for her taste, but I think she'll get it one day.
"Allt, allt út um allt \\ Og nóg beini er kalt \\ Drepur allt \\ Varúð"
Translating to "caution" in Icelandic, Sigur Rós portrayed a nostalgic eeriness in "Varúð" that stayed with me all decade. You'd think tapping into the primal unease of my most haunted childhood dreams would be a bad thing, but it lures me in like an unsettling photo from 100 years ago. In 2012, perhaps this was a prophetic warning of the looming darkness on the horizon. Just the thought of that concept sends a shiver down my spine. A beautiful barrage of emotion.
Also, there was this, apparently.
"This is a waltz thinkin' \\ about our bodies \\ What they mean \\ for our salvation"
And just like that, Thom gave us one of his greatest works... for the remake of a cult classic Italian horror film. I liked the movie fine enough, but the poetic mysticism in this 3 minutes and 21 seconds is more potent than anything in the 2 hours + of its respective film. More than that, it's a song that (once again) showed, after all these years, the man still has some wonderful tricks up his sleeve.
"Someone must have forgot \\ They've all forgot \\ She can \\ She's finally found a way out"
Ten years ago, if you would've told me that Grizzly Bear's Chris Taylor would give me the best Grizzly adjacent tunes of the 2010's all by his lonesome, I'd have been skeptical. But here I had an early tearjerker who's painful burden only proved to be more potently relatable as the decade progressed. Few moments on this list match the explosive crescendo of Taylor crying "She's finally found a way out," buried beneath a crushing wall of sound.
"When you stop being a ghost in a shell \\ and everybody keeps saying you look well \\ Don't miss it \\ like I did"
Jimmy here made a quick career out of singing some of the most beautifully dejected sad sack tunes I've ever heard in my life, a handful of which are staking out significant placement on this list. And while "Don't Miss It" doesn't stray too far from that trend, it also might be the only one with a glimmer of positivity. When that "dull pain goes away," don't miss out on life while wasting time missing the painful past. Don't miss it, like he did. After contributing heavily to the soundtrack of my greatest sadness, it seems only appropriate that he'd offer some advice about how to move on.
"Those who used to pass by me \\ think they are baffling a liar \\ F-fuck is you? \\ You don't even taste much better"
2018 was a respectably eclectic year for tunes. But when it came time to crowning my #1 song that year, it was obvious who would be Queen. At once wonderfully nostalgic but refreshingly bold, calling out the foolish games of both men and women with a perfectly giddy rooftop dance video and the most satisfying drop of an F-bomb all decade. Somehow it wasn't a hit stateside. I guess America wasn't quite ready for something like this to catch fire yet. But I certainly was.
"That shattered feeling \\ Well the cause of it's a lesson learned \\ Just don't know if I could roll into the sea again \\ "Just don't know if I could do it all again" she said, it's true"
One afternoon, as my world was sinking around me, I sat listening to this electronic sea shanty with my best friend Brit on the small speaker of her phone. It had been a favorite of mine for six years by that point, but suddenly it seemed to tell my story. A story of tortured love likened unto addiction and recovery. Lying next to the one who pulled me out of the dark waters (painful as it was for her), my thoughts jumped out of those little speakers: "I'm caught again in the mystery \\ You're by my side \\ but are you still with me? \\ The answer's somewhere deep in it \\ I'm sorry that you're feeling it \\ but I just have to tell you that I love you so much these days." A cartoon band saying it better than I could.
"And into your life, there comes a darkness \\ And a spacecraft blocking out the sky \\ And there's nowhere to hide"
There was a dark shadow over 2016. My personal life, and the world as a whole, had succumbed to many new and unsettling realities that year. "Deck's Dark" is about witnessing the inevitability of it all. It is seeing the darkness roll in, knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it. But, there's an eerie calm to it as well. Almost like finding a certain peace in defeat, after resisting for so long, and finally letting the grass grow over you. It's also one of the most beautiful things they've ever done, featuring some very tasty bass. Back in 1997, Radiohead sang of wanting to be swept away by spacecrafts to laugh at the fickle nature of human beings. In 2016, the crafts had come, and there was nowhere to hide. And, in many ways, it's still very dark out there.
"Soredemo kimi wa dōshite \\ nando mo nando mo \\ boku o yurushite kureru no? \\ Boku no tonari ni \\ ite kureru no ka?"
I came upon kidkanevil at a random listening station in Shibuya Tokyo's famous Tower Records. I didn't know anything about the guy, I just liked the blips and bloops I was hearing. So, I bought his My Little Ghost as a souvenir. When I finally gave it a good listen back home, everything seemed like business as usual for an above average British IDM artist featuring Japanese vocals and samples...until about 1:32 of this particular track. Mind you, as I get older, it is increasingly rare for a piece of music to take me right out of my body. But I'll be damned if this thing didn't send me to the stars. And I don't even do drugs. I'll never forget that moment.
"It's incomplete without you \\ The silver soul is running through \\ It's a vision \\ Complete illusion, yeah"
Like many people, the band's breakout Teen Dream was my first real exposure to Beach House (unless you count them Twilight soundtracks). Opening number "Zebra" welcomed me in with open arms, of course. But when I heard the melted guitars of "Silver Soul," that's when the love affair with my favorite band of the decade truly began. I graduated from college a few months later, and went to Florida in celebration with my family. I remember going for an evening swim at the hotel resort, and finding myself alone in the outdoor pool. As I floated on my back, looking up at the twilit palm trees, it was this song that filled the sky. No headphones, just my perfect memory of a perfect song in that perfect moment.
"Cute but I'll take the bus \\ with fees and favours gone \\ Cracks in savers pass \\ and a white that sometimes shone"
Every now and then, a song comes along that makes you question everything you thought you knew about music by showing you something completely alien. Radiohead and Björk had done it for me in the early aughts. Sigur Rós had done it, Animal Collective had done it. FKA twigs and Jai Paul have done it since. In 2011, newcomer James Blake did it with this minimalist piece of abstracted blues. I'm not one to listen to songs on repeat, but I must have listened to this double whammy in sessions of 5 or 6 rounds every day for a week straight when I first discovered it. At the time, I predicted he'd continue to deliver many more golden audio nuggets as his career progressed. And as you can see from this list, I'm a firm believer that he did.
"Ooh, love \\ they'll never break the shape we take \\ Ooh, love \\ Baby, let all them voices slip away"
In what may be the most thrilling intro to any song all decade, "Slip Away" leaps out of the gate with a sound that left me completely stunned on first listen. Having no idea what the hell I was hearing, I immediately began a quest of discovery and came upon the brilliant Song Exploder podcast, which therein featured Perfume Genius talking about this very tune. I won't spoil the surprise, you'll have to hear it yourself. But hearing Mike Hadreas break down all the details of this triumphant masterpiece of defiant love magnified my already glowing appreciation for it. It's a brilliantly produced, life-affirming epic that was exactly what I needed at the time. These sort of musical journeys are some of life's genuine pleasures.
"Koi o shita \\ Koi o shite iru \\ Boku no te ga kimi no te to \\ kasanariatta toki"
The first time I "fell in love," I was a kid in Japan. All I wanted to do was hang out with this person, and when we weren't hanging out, all I wanted to do was listen to songs that reminded me of her. Naturally, many of the songs my twitterpated tween heart attached to those moments were Japanese. I'm starting to suspect that's why I absolutely adore "Midori no Shuojo." Translating to "Green Girl," this song is basically about a dude meeting a girl dressed in green, and falling in love as their hands touch. And it's such an irresistibly pure jangle jam. It sounds like young love... it sounds like Japan... it sounds like young love in Japan. That makes sense, right?
"You slowly enter \\ because you know my room \\ then you crawl your knees off \\ before you shake my tomb"
I was driving to work one day in the spring of 2010 (my last semester of college), while blasting the newly acquired Diamond Eyes. It was a comeback album of sorts, a rebound from tragedy, and I don't think I had heard the whole thing yet. Eventually, this monster roared in. And it was THICK. As I pulled into the parking lot, I turned it up to 11 so I could feel the chorus rattle my bones. I felt like a teenager again. This wasn't just the band I remembered, it was something more. And then there was the video: stylish, visceral, sexy, and a little terrifying. Not only did it perfectly capture the song, it perfectly captured Deftones—a band that had successfully clawed there way out of darkness and back into being one of my favorites again by delivering one of their greatest achievements. That drop-tuned guitar never sounded so good.
"Wild in our ways \\ what we were making \\ Heartless to say \\ go on pretending"
Beach House is the most represented artist on this list, and having to decide my favorite song of theirs was not an easy task. In the end, it came down to my initial, raw reaction, which in this case was significant. When I first heard "Wild," it was just a snippet. I didn't have time for the full album yet, but I wanted a little taste of the glory. I'd already heard "Myth" (track 1), so I went straight to track 2, and after only a minute my jaw literally dropped. This thing was GIGANTIC. It was like seeing the ocean for the first time. That three note guitar lick following Victoria's first bar was a revelation (random side note: I called it "The Karate Kid Lick" because for whatever reason it made me think of this). When I was finally able to sit and listen to Bloom in full, on a trampoline under the stars, I listened to "Wild" a couple times before I could move on. Of course, the song is a bit darker than playing soccer on the beach. But, somehow the darkness only makes it bigger.
"The past is still the past \\ The bridge to nowhere \\ I should’ve wrote a letter \\ Explaining what I feel \\ that empty feeling"
Like much of Carrie & Lowell, "Should Have Known Better" is a devastating document of loss and regret. Few things are more painful than a list of "should have's." But, ironically enough, one of the most relatably hopeful moments I connected to all decade was found here. When Suf sings "My brother had a daughter," allowing himself a brief moment of reflection on the most beautiful things in his life, I can't help but think of my own nieces and nephews. Living examples of what it's all about. Of love and life done right. Make no mistake, this is a legit tearjerker. But it's that glimmer of hope within the sorrow that made it stand out from the rest of the album.
"Running for the subway \\ isn't gonna make it, girl \\ Won't start revolutions \\ but we're giving it a whirl"
I don't have some significant experience with this song that sets it up as one of my favorites of the 2010's. It's not connected to any certain person, place, or event, really. I just think it's fucking perfect. It makes me feel like a kid in all the best possible ways. It makes me feel invincible. It makes me feel like starting a revolution (or at least giving it a whirl). It makes me want to stick it to the man, but also give the man a hug. It makes me feel like humans might actually pull something off and be OK. It makes me want to go swimming. Basically, it's the sound of your favorite birthday party ever. And it constantly blows my mind that humans are capable of making such things. That's all I have to say, I guess. Sorry for the F-word.
"And if you were to ask me \\ after all that we've been through \\ Still believe in magic? \\ Well yes, I do \\ Yes, I do"
Arriving on the heels of the high profile separation of Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow, there was immediately a tinge of sadness to this refreshingly intimate (and surprisingly funky) love song. Martin has been a famously loveable cornballs for nearly 20 years, so how can you not feel for the guy, right? But there's an interesting dichotomy going on that I found myself latching on to: "Call it magic, cut me into two \\ And with all your magic, I disappear from view." One side holding on to the past, forever remaining behind, while the other moves on. And that's how it is. A separation like that literally tears your soul in two as you mourn the past and look to the future simultaneously. Sitting in a car next to the new love of my life—mourning the past, looking to the future—and hearing Martin affirm that he "still believes in magic" hit me harder than almost any other line this decade.
"How I loved your story \\ How I wanted to follow you and paint it \\ and how I told you what I'd do \\ if one day I woke and couldn't find \\ the colour in anything"
This song is still hard to listen to. It is the embodiment of my life's deepest moment of sorrow. But that's exactly why it's here. James Blake put my most indescribable emotions to music and lyrics with this simple piano melody, and a vocal performance that's just on the edge of falling apart. When I wrote about it at the end of 2016, I wondered if I'd be able to return to songs like this as the years went on—as I started to see colour again. What I'm finding is that I do return to them, but with perspective. Back then, I listened to wallow in pain, aching for a time when I'd be happy again. As I listen now and remember, I'm able to fully appreciate the fact that I made it. I don't want to forget those emotions or the songs that helped me through them. This is a vital piece of my history, and it always will be. Despite all that, the fact that it doesn't quite fit at #1 is a good sign, I think.
"Oh my gosh"
When it topped my 2015 list I wrote, "And what initially seemed pretty plain and eventless slowly morphs into the most eventful thing all year. Suddenly, you can see the cosmos. You can feel humanity. You can dance with God." Those words still ring very true. What I didn't realize then was that there would be two amazing videos for this behemoth. In the first, you see the cosmos. In the second, you feel the humanity. These audio-visual experiences showcase the magnitude of this communal epic way better than any of my words can. A truly gigantic, joyous, and spiritual composition that makes me love my fellow man probably a little more than they deserve. If God is indeed a DJ, then this is the kind of stuff he's spinning. And He's probably insisting you call Him "Gosh." Consider my soul permanently turnt.
"Say, will it spin? Will it soar? \\ My little dream, working the machine \\ Soon, like a wave empires will fall \\ And closing in on you, they're going on"
As a shiny synth-pop epic (and my formal introduction to decade favorite Little Dragon), I already loved it. But in the summer of 2012, I made a summer mix with this little number as the conceptual centerpiece. Not to brag about a mix... but it's easily one of the smoothest collections of tunes I've ever assembled. It gives me all the good feels. Anyway, for whatever reason, this re-contextualizing of "Empire Ants" opened my eyes to its true serenity and catapulted it into being an all-timer. Back on Plastic Beach, it's an escape from the fray. A reminder to stop and smell the roses, or to "view the ant farm from outside the glass," as someone once said. It's also a bit of a reminder that big things come from small steps. Empires rise and fall with little dreams working the machines. If that's not a relevant truth worth keeping in your pocket these days, I don't know what is. It's somehow the sound of being an optimistic child, an anxious teen, and an exhausted adult all at once.
"What seems impossible \\ I think I have had my fill \\ I think I should give up the ghost \\ In your arms"
A month after I first heard this song, my not-so-native land of Japan was hit with the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, killing thousands and resulting in the Fukushima meltdown. "Give Up the Ghost" immediately became my solemn benediction dedicated to a people I had grown to love, who were suffering greatly. It calmed and inspired my soul as I connected with friends and did what little I could to help. Ever since then, and throughout the tumultuous 2010's, this song continued to be a sacred call for relief whenever the world seemed to fall apart. It was a nice change of pace for a band that's pretty damn good at sounding the horn of the apocalypse (see #15 on this list). Back in 2011, I said it sounded like singing around a campfire with the ghosts of people you know. A somber and beautifully reverent requiem to the ones we've loved and lost, and a petition of compassion for those of us left behind.
For what it's worth, I really tried to convince myself not to be this predictable. "A Radiohead song? Pff, go figure..." But, what can I say? It's more than a song. It's a hymn. A prayer of mercy as powerful as any I've ever heard from my favorite band of all time. An inspiration to open my arms, and a reminder of those whose arms were opened for me during the hardest times of my life.
