The 333 Best Pop Songs of the 2000s: #239

#239: "Locust Street" (2008) - The Black Crowes

Yeah, I know: we're fewer than one-hundred songs into the countdown, and already I've listed three Black Crowes records. The other two were covers, though, and this one's an original. How's that justification--you buy it? Yeah, me neither. The Black Crowes are the greatest Southern rock band, bar none, of the past twenty years. Sure, their instrumentalists aren't as talented as those in the Allman Brothers Band (few are), and their songwriting isn't on a par with Lynyrd Skynyrd's (few are), but both those bands--in their greatest incarnations--crashed and burned (sorry 'bout the pun, Ronnie and Duane) years ago.

The Black Crowes came flying out of their cage with an exciting debut album full of great rock songs with a bluesy feel. Their sophomore stint proved that they'd improved exponentially, as they expanded their sound and their breadth, drawing as deep into the Southern Gothic well as anyone had since Van Zant's plane went down in a Mississippi forest. The album--fifteen years later, and they still haven't come close to matching it's quality--sunk on the sales chart, and ever since the Crowes have had difficulty sustaining an album-length identity, jumping back-and-forth among straight-up rock and unfocused jam-band nonsense.

This year, though, with their new album Warpaint, the Crowes have come closer than ever to matching their long-playing creative zenith of 1993. The album's a quieter affair than any other Crowes' record, adopting more of a folk/country sound than before. Yeah, I know, they're still trying to find themselves, but this album works well as a whole; it's cohesive. Chris Robinson's vocals--which have always been distinctive, and much-more-often-than-not, have been among the best rock has had to offer--have improved with age, and the quieter moods suit him well.

But we're here to talk about individual records, aren't we? Not entire albums (is the LP even relevant anymore? Yeah, but barely), which is all I've discussed so far. But you see, as you noted before, this is my third Crowes song, and...there won't be anymore--not on this list anyway (but wait, oh just wait, till--in 2010--I start on my '90s list. I'm going to at least double the number of Crowes entries to put on that list); so, I decided to talk at length (at length being relative to my usual one/two-paragraph meagre posts) about one of my favorite (and one of the best, though favorite and best are not always mutually exclusive) bands 'cause after this post, I won't be talkin' 'bout them no mo'.

Anyway...speaking of quieter moods, "Locust Street" finds the Crowes relaxed and contemplative, singing about loneliness and broken hearts and the embracing, redemptive power of music, all in the midst of an honest-to-goodness country song: not alt-country, not folk-country, not current Music Row country, but traditional country in every single way--the structure, the tone, the instrumentation, and even the singing. Well, maybe not the singing--not completely; Robinson's singing is more Southern here than it is country: he sports his country twang proudly, but he lets his frayed vibratto hang loose, which is a Southern soul (think of the Stax/Volt vault of singers as opposed to their Motown cousins up in Detroit) soul vocal technique. In fact, it's this mixture of Southern soul and country twang--and British blooze rock blustery belting--that gives Robinson his unique sound.

Speaking of sound, maybe the production's not typical, traditional country, either, 'cause traditional country songs were much tighter, much more compressed than this one is. So--maybe it's not completely a traditional country song, but it'd be close enough for Gram Parsons (who pioneered this type of Donnie & Marie--do I have to explain that analogy? I didn't think so--country music, but who never wrote a song this good nor had a voice that could come close to touching Robinson's, and it was Parsons's vocals--and hippie lifestyle--that proved his commercial failure in Nashville), and does genre really matter anyway? Well, yes it does, at least in terms of commercial viability; but in terms of quality, genre be damned, a great song's a great song, and sometimes what makes a record great is when it indeed tries to damn genres, or when it does so whether or not trying is part of the process.

Now, I don't believe the Crowes were purposefully trying to write a cross-genre country song here; they're probably settling down into an older age (I still refuse to believe that I--at thirty-seven--am now a middle-aged man, so I hesitate to brand my contemporaries with that moniker) and writing and recording songs for a slower lifestyle, a lifestyle given more to pondering than partying. They're writing songs now more for themselves than they were before, and in delving into more personal feelings about life and love and the continuation of both and the problems that lie therein, they've grown more universal in their message, much as the Band used to do in their prime.

This transference of the personal to the universal reminds me of a scene from the John Lennon documentary Imagine. John and Yoko are walking through Central Park, and a fan comes gushing, telling Lennon about how he just knew that Lennon was speaking directly to him in one of his songs (I think the song was "Imagine," but I could be wrong, and I haven't seen the film in years), and how did Lennon know about him, how could he be so prescient as to see right through to the soul of this guy and his problems. Lennon lets the fellow down easy, telling him that he--Lennon--wrote the song not about this dude, but about himself (or people in general, I forget), that he appreciated the compliments, but, no, that song was not about that dude.

I felt a bit sorry for the fan (though he did seem something of an imbecile--either that, or he was stoned--or [shudder] both), for I think I knew from whence he came: music--and it doesn't even have to be great music, not really--can reach out to us, envelop us, and sometimes we like the tune or the sound or the singer's voice, and we return the embrace, and we call the music our own; it asks--sometimes it demands, sometimes it begs, and sometimes it just gestures--to be possessed, and we possess it. We invite it in and give it it's own room and bed in our head. And now, we have a friend. We have family. We're not alone anymore. The Black Crowes understand this concept, and they call it "Locust Street," the empty space in everyone's soul, the place where we all sleep alone, where it's so quiet that we can hear only the sounds of that titular insect that sheds it's carapace and leaves the empty shell behind. What fills the void? What occupies the space? Music. Chris Robinson sings:

Just a glimpse of what love could be
Once a dream that I owned
One of many lonely longing souls
At least I'm not alone
Well at least I'm not alone

And as long as The Black Crowes keep playing this song, and we keep playing the record of The Black Crowes playing this song, then we're not alone anymore...at least not for the moment.

Pigskin Prognostications, Week Twelve

Aah! Another Thursday night game--I hate Thursday night games. Too many other things to watch on television already. AAARRGGH!

Steelers, 27 Bengals 10 - No Ocho Cinco, turmoil within, and maybe, just maybe, against the League's greatest D, the Bengals score ten.

Eagles 24, Ravens 21 - Westbrook is playing hurt (and might not play), and--until last week--the Ravens had the League's stingiest run D; but, the Eagles don't run (or at least run well) anyway, so this shouldn't present too much of a problem. Also, Philly's embarassed by last week's tie, and shame can motivate.

Browns 17, Texans 14 - Quinn didn't throw the ball accurately the other night, but he played with gusto without committing turnovers. Rosenfels often plays with gusto, too, but the turnovers...different story--and the difference in this game.

Buccaneers 24, Lions 21 - Yeah, the Lions are 0-10, but they've been in most of their games this year--at least until the third quarter, at which point they (usually) have to abandon the run in order to catch up, and then the turnovers start, and then...well, this week won't be any different.

Chiefs 28, Bills 20- Trent Edwards looked completely befuddled last week against the Browns. I don't think that'll happen this week, for the Chiefs defense stinks. However, Tyler Thigpen hasn't looked befuddled since his first game this year; in fact, he's looked like a franchise quarterback. He's a difference maker; a positive one, and with Edwards playing like a deer in headlights the past several weeks, I believe Thigpen (with LJ back toting the ball) will pull it out, without worrying about the D.

Bears 30, Rams 12 - This week, Rams coach Jim Haslett stated that QB Marc Bulger would still be his starter. The fact that he felt he needed to make that statement at all does not betoken good times ahead.

Titans 21, Jets 7- Brett Favre didn't throw a single interception last week in his masterful performance against the Pats; however, New England's secondary has been decimated with injurie. Tennessee's secondary has not. It's top notch.

Patriots 17, Dolphins 14 - The first time they played this year, Miami unveiled its wicked Wildcat package, and the Pats were shocked, surprised, and stunned. This time, the Pats will be ready.

Vikings 21, Jaguars 18 - Both teams play erratically, so I don't have a much of an idea who'll win this one. I flipped a coin.

Cowboys 31, 49ers 14 - Romo looked like his old self last week, and Barber looked better than ever, and San Fran's D--'cept for middle lineback Patrick Willis--isn't nearly as tough as Washington's.

Broncos 21, Raiders 8 - Oakland has a great defense and the best corner in the game, and as much a gunslinger as Cutler is, the Raiders will pick off a few. The problem for Oakland is what to do with the ball on offense. Can you score by punting?

Panthers 21, Falcons 20 - Julius Peppers/John Abraham; Jake Delhomme/Matt Ryan; DeAngelo Williams & Jonathan Stewart/Michael Turner & Jerious Norwood; Steve Smith & Mushin Muhammed; Roddy White & Michael Jenkins; looks pretty even...until that last combo.

Giants 28, Cardinals 27 - Brandon Jacobs may not play, the game's in Arizona, and Kurt Warner has been throwing for over three-hundred yards a game with 70% accuracy for a month now, but...boy, the Giants sure have looked tough, and the Cards' D doesn't play with enough tenacity in the fourth quarter (though I think that's the defensive coordinator's fault), and I think that'll be their downfall.

Redskins 20, Seahawks 10- Hasselbeck will play better this week, and, therefore, Seattle will, too, but Washington's primary goal is to eat clock, and with Portis and Campbell and Cooley against a soft Seattle D, they can do it, keeping Hasselbeck on the sidelines.

Colts 28, Chargers 15- San Diego lost their first two games on last minute plays; last week, San Diego won the same way. If you believe in the karmic wheel and the goddess Fortuna, then you know that San Diego will win in some freak way again this week, setting things right with the universe, balance restored. I don't believe in that junk, though, and I bet Peyton Manning and his offense don't, either.

Packers 27, Saints 24 - If the Packers can run the ball this week like they did last week, then they'll win. If not, and they have to depend on Brooks to win it, then I don't think they will, 'cause he's not in Brees's class.

The 333 Best Pop Songs of the 2000s: #240

#240: "Devil's Waitin'" (2005) - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

At the dawn of the decade, a trio of minstrels from the West staked a claim to territory pioneered by the likes of the Velvet Underground, the Jesus & Mary Chain, and the Brian Jonestown Massacre. Some called this territory Shoegazer, some called it Trance, some called it Drone & Groan, but BRMC just called it rock. And it was good. The leader--Peter Hayes--took his inspiration from Lou Reed and Robert Smith, but he downplayed their theatrics, and he held court and orchestrated machinations with his wailing electric guitar, his magnetic charm, and menacing growl; while the propulsive rhythm section of Robert Levon Been and Nick Jago worked the land something fierce.

Well, one day, Mr. Jago grew tired of working the land out West, for it produced so little crop, and he moved onwards. With their driver gone, the remaining two minstrels decided to hoof it, to take to the road on foot, to light out for the fabled land of Americana, unplugging and selling their amps for roots-rock credibility. They hiked through the South, from Mississippi up to the Appalachian Trail. Half the onlookers would cheer them on their travels and laud them for their work, while others would bemoan them for trying to stake a claim to a sonic landscape that wasn't theirs, for traveling a road without paying the toll. The two BRMC players told the folks that Bruce and John and Robbie told them of this land, but the locals wouldn't listen, 'cause them aformentioned fellas weren't from the South or the hills no way. The BRMC players then told them that Bruce and John and Robbie heard tell from Hank and Johnny and Jimmie and Woody that this land was made for whoever worked it honestly.

The folks mumbled to themselves and then asked Peter and Robert to show them what they knew. The two travelers sat down, and a local named Mr. Burnett stepped over to help them set up, and the two travelers played everyone a song about a prison convict, and whilst they were playing, the locals grumbled 'bout "How he know? He ain't ever been there, and even if he had, don't sound like it from that song, not the words, mind you. Now, the music's pretty nice, all sad and lonely, but...." And then they all stopped their mumbles and grumbles, for Peter let howl the most forelorn yodel they'd heard since...well, maybe since Jimmie was in town, and he done been dead a coon's age now. That yodel--full of regret and full of beauty, full of guilt and sorrow, and full of rapture. "Sound like a dead man walking down an empty stretch of Nebraska flatland," one onlooker said, and another responded, "You know, even if he ain't never been to prison, and he ain't no true Southerner, and even if he don't really know the Gospel, it sure 'nuff sound like he do," and someone else--from the back--added, "Sounds like his souls just a witherin' away, and we hearin' the last bit of it 'for it's gone," and one last person chimed in, "Sounds like he's a person, plain and simple."

With that, the duo rose, gathered their guitars, and started walking again. "Wait...come back and sit a spell," someone shouted.

"Don't believe we can," Peter said, "we're feeling a might' homesick, and we think we need to head back from whence we came. Thank you, though...we enjoyed our stay."

The 333 Best Pop Songs of the 2000s: #241

#241: "Dance Me In" (2005) - Sons & Daughters


By this point of the countdown, you might have noticed that I have a strong tendency to group songs together with similar or complementing sounds. Why? Can't help it; I'm a DJ. I'm also a long-time mixed-tape maker (as are many pop/rock/soul/country/rap afficianadoes), and I like my music to flow together well (most of the time), so that I can sustain my mood and groove, and the most common way I juxtapose songs on tapes/CDs/playlists is by the similitude of the beat. The drum pattern, the rhythm--it's the first, foremost, and most basic component of all--and I mean all--pop music.

Knowing that, and knowing that I'm a drummer, you'd think that I'd call attention to the percussion much more often than I do on the countdown. The reason I don't spotlight the drumming on most of these songs is because--for the most part--the drumming on these songs is relegated to the background on purpose; it's not supposed to be noticed. It's the utilitarian dimension to pop music: if the drummer/percussionist/programmer does his/her job well, then no one will notice (so the thinking goes, and I've heard plenty of people--common listeners and professional musicians alike--state this)--just keep the beat while the real musicians ply their trade. Most drummers do.

Glasgow, Scotland's Sons & Daughter's drummer David Gow is not most drummers, though--at least, not on this track. On "Dance Me In," Gow syncopates a pattern of sixteenth notes all on the snare, forgoing the hi-hat, and this martial drumming propels the song steadily forward, not just along, as if the record's going to jump out of the speakers and attack. The snare rolling adds the bristle, the excitement, the crackle to an already sultry song. Adele Bethel's singing is nasal, but she's a vixenish tease, whose pouty come-ons contrast sinfully with the orgasmic moaning of the background vocals in the chorus. The song's similar to some of the stuff that the Talking Heads used to do, but the Talking Heads never had a song this outre, this sexy, nothing that moved and moved, closer and closer, faster and faster, quite like this, and the main reason for that is that Chris Franz, while quite adept, was no David Gow.

The 333 Best Pop Songs of the 2000s: #242

#242: "All the Way Down" (2007) - Oakley Hall

Another song abounding with distorted electric guitar and crash cymbals and a strange lead guitar line, and another sound sporting a highly distinctive voice. This time, though, the voice is female, and it's a doozy. Rachael Cox (seated above)'s a folkie tarheel, and the band's other members range hail from Vermont to Mississippi. They've got a fiddle player, too, and a fantastic lead guitarist, whose electric/celtic (eleceltic? howsat for coining a new term?) style and sound-- resemble that of guitar legend Richard Thompson. Add a steady-rollin' rhythm section and Cox's fantastic vocals, and you've got yourselves an Amerindie version of Fairport Convention, now new with less folk!

So, their sound is derivative, but at least they cop it from a source that's not been tapped too often, and here, they construct a record melodic and catchy enough with enough space to let the eleceltic guitar ring and Cox strut her siren song.

Fifth Down, Week Eleven

Patriots 20, Jets 13 - Loss. Heckuva game--shame I fell asleep early. Whenever the NFL decides to talk about changing overtime, they should look at this game. Jets (I almost said the Pack) won the toss, took it down the field, and won the game. The Pats should have had a chance to answer back. Actual score: Jets 34, Pats 31


Falcons 24, Broncos 21- Loss. Wow, but boy does Jay Cutler have an arm and some moxie to go with it. Broncos had no running game, yet Cutler prevailed. Now, if Denver only had a defense....Actual score: Broncos 24, Falcons 20

Panthers 27, Lions 21 - Win. Culpepper's making huge strides, and running RB Kevin Smith (over one-hundred yards today) sure helps, but they can't play defense. Still winless. Actual score: Panthers 31, Lions 22.


Eagles 35, Bengals 12 - Loss. See? It was a trap game--and it ended in the first tie in six years. McNabb turned it over four times. Can't make the playoffs this year like that, guys. Actual score: Eagles 13, Bengals 13

Saints 31, Chiefs 17 - Win. Too much Brees. Actual score: Saints 30, Chiefs 20

Giants 28, Ravens 14- Win. Complete stomping, especially the first half, which was much more of a blowout than this score indicates. First time in over ten years that Baltimore has allowed over two-hundred yards rushing. Can the Giants be stopped? Yes. Eli Manning could do it if he doesn't stop making stupid throws at crucial times. Actual score: Giants 30, Ravens 10

Buccaneers 17, Vikings 14 - Win. Tampa limited Adrian Peterson to less than one-hundred yards rushing, and that made all the difference. Actual score: Buccaneers: 19, Vikings 13


Dolphins 10, Raiders 6 - Win. Didn't watch this one, so I have no idea how Oakland put up fifteen points. Actual score: Dolphins 17, Raiders 15


Packers 14, Bears 10 - Win. Orton started, and he didn't play well. Grossman came in, and he didn't play well, either. Neither did the Bears run D. Actual score: Packers 37, Bears 3

Colts 27, Texans 13 - Win. This year's team is starting to look like the Colts' Super Bowl team. . Actual score: Colts 33, Texans 27


49ers 22, Rams 13 - Win. I stopped in to look at this one every so often in the first quarter, and each time I flipped over to it the Rams were turning it over. They need a new QB...and a better O-line...and better receivers...and.... Acual score: 49ers 35, Rams 16

Cardinals 20, Seahawks 14 - Win. Kurt Warner put up 395 yards passing, yet they still came close to losing this one. How does that keep on happening? No run game, that's how. Finally. Actual score: Cardinals 26, Seahawks 20

Titans 24, Jaguars 10 - Win. Kerry Collins threw three touchdown passes in the second half, and Jackonville failed to score at all during the same time frame. David Garrard went 13 for 30...inept. They ran the ball well, though, and for the second week in a row. That must mean something...just not this week. Tennessee's still undefeated. Actual score: Titans 24, Jaguars 14


Steelers 27, Chargers 24 - Win. Fast Willie Parker played a huge game, much tougher than his stats (while good--over one-hundred yards rushing) showed, and the Pittsburgh D--that's the best group of linebackers the AFC has had since...well, a long time. Hines Ward played a heckuva game, too. First 11-10 score in NFL history. Actual score: Steelers 11, Chargers 10


Redskins 20, Cowboys 17 - Loss. And Marion Barber is still breaking tackles. Actual score: Cowboys 14, Redskins 10


Bills 19, Browns 17 - Loss. It wasn't Quinn who turned the ball over, it was Edwards--three times--and still--on top of the strong running by Marshawn Lynch--they had a chance to win it in the end, but their kicker missed a forty-sixer. Actual score: Browns 29, Bills 27

The 333 Best Pop Songs of the 2000s: #243

#243: "Nothin' No" (2007) - David Vandervelde


Michigan-native Vandervelde's wonderful high-pitched squeal (his voice similar to that of the late Marc Bolan, and the record's almost a ringer for those old T-Rex records as well) ekes out a song apparently about dedication, with the cliched chorus line and the memories of drinking and smoking, but there's also a seedy undercurrent here, as not everything seems safe, least of all the lover with the bruises on her neck and the things that she's said. This little bit of lyrical crypticism makes us wonder if the waves upon waves of glorious noise--the sitar chiming out against a bed of wailing distorted guitars and crash cymbals--are a relaxing raft trying to rock us to sleep or sweep us out to sea.

Listen to it here and decide for yourself. Bring a life-jacket.