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#1
words: Jamie Milton
Antony And The Johnsons – Hope There’s Someone
The emotional has triumphed in MFM’s top 10 songs of the decade. Without passion of fuel for thought, without uncontrollable frustration or in this case, unrivaled loneliness and doubt, there’s not a hope in hell of reaching the top spot. Antony Hegarty has always been an outsider and this, his most famous song, is not essentially coming from the depths of his inner sadness, but it’s the one song in recent years that has the absolute ability to reduce a good proportion of grown men to tears.
It’s the bitter, melancholic piano chimes, the voice that sounds so unearthly but at the same time, so human and genuine. The opening line, “Hope there’s someone who’ll take care of me, when I die, will I go?” draws you in very well but it’s the sheer unexpectedness and the emotion of the chorus that it truly gripping.
Hegarty has been subjected to many a snide comment, to physical and emotional exclusion. It’s almost as if the howls that close ‘Hope There’s Someone’ represent his cry for help. Thanks to this very song, he won the Mercury Music Prize, he became an accepted musician internationally and he stole the hearts of every unsuspecting listener. The following album, 2009’s ‘The Crying Light‘, is much less defeatist and more assured that ‘I Am A Bird Now‘. It seems as if Hegarty reached an absolute low when writing ‘Hope There’s Someone’, his vocals sound completely on the brink of breaking but they somehow pull through and continue at the very moment that the lump in your throat lends a tear.
mp3// Antony and the Johnsons – Hope There’s Someone
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#2
words: Jamie Milton
Of Montreal - The Past Is A Grotesque Animal
There’s a reason why the central thought stream of ‘Hissing Fauna…’ clocks in at just under twelve minutes. There’s many a reason actually. The most noticeable however, is the context. Kevin Barnes, freshly rid of the divorce papers, angst-ridden, a mess. The album in its entirety covers the emotional stress of being with somebody and ‘The Past Is A Grotesque Animal’ is every nervous tick in Barnes’ head transported into a building, monstrous, personal cry for help.
From “I fell in love with the first cute girl that I met” – to “At least I offer my own disasters” to “It’s like we weren’t made for this world” to “Do I have to scream in your face?”, lyrically, it grows uncontrollably. Barnes adopts a false good spirit, “Let’s just have some fun”, interrupted by expletives: “Let’s tear this fucking house apart”. And then it happens: Everything erupts. “No matter where we are. We’re always touching by underground wires”. Barnes seeks escape in the music that eventually gives in and seeks similar escapism at that very moment. It’s beautiful but it’s savaging, the most intense individual vocal performance you’re ever likely to hear. Indulge and you’re swept along without consent through the most sparked, frightening head-space one can encounter.
This is a desire for a better sex-life “None of our secrets are physical”, a desire to be left alone “The gestapo circling my head”. One indulgent look at the lyrics and that much is evident. You sympathise but at the same time you’re absolutely terrified.
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#3
words: Ben Ross
Radiohead – Idioteque
Ice age is coming, Ice age is coming,
Kid A’s defining moment as an album comes in the form of the futuristic sound of synthesised beats, electronic drums and Thom Yorke’s infamous vocals, combined in perfect symmetry in the song that is Idioteque. This for me is the very essence of Radiohead; a cutting edge track in the form of samples, computer wizzard-ry and the combined effort of both Jonny Greenwood and Yorke.
Whilst the lyrics allude to the theme of an ‘apocalypse’ the forward thinking electronic sounds seems to undermine this and suggest hope, this juxtaposition of music and lyrics in such a way help to create the dimension and atmosphere in which Radiohead inhabit, one which to those observers on the ‘outside’ without true understanding would simply brand as ‘depressing’.
The song works as a centre point to Kid A, (the album to which pitchfork recent crowned album of the decade) in more ways than one. The visual imagery Yorke’s lyrics impose seem to be intrinsically linked if not paralleled in Stanley Downwood’s beautifully bleak album artwork.
This for me is one of, if not Radiohead’s most perfect songs, his vocal line; ‘Here I’m allowed everything all of the time’ is so beautifully alluring and non specific that it could be interpreted in a thousand different ways. My favourite interpretation would be the idea Yorke recognises the fundamental importance of expression through art, and in doing so the bleak landscape he details and his wish to save the ‘women and children first’ is a bid to ensure the legacy of art, music, you name it continues for ever and ever. This ability to evoke such deep and powerful meaning coupled with the engaging sound of the future is why I believe this to be one of the greatest tracks of the decade.
mp3: Radiohead – Idioteque
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#4
words: Ben Ross
Outkast – Hey Ya!
As one of the lead singles for OutKast’s championed 2003 double album; Speakerboxxx/The Love Below; Hey Ya! Is one of the most perfect pop songs ever written. Opening with upbeats of Andre 3000 counting ‘one two three’ before leading into the first verse, the general sense of a relentless, gung-ho pop song is instilled instantly, this combined with the electro/funk beats used throughout creates one of the happiest and uplifting pop songs of the last decade.
The casual lyrics and unusual arrangement and influence of a variety of genres combined together help to make Hey Ya! One of the most ‘mass appealing’ songs of the last decade, even if it did only peak at 3 in the UK charts. The mix of soul, new-wave, electro and hip hop work together seamlessly throughout the song, it is however the chorus where it shines through; the enchanting main line ‘ Hey Ya’ being repeated over and over is infectious, appealing and uncontainable. This all encompassing chorus is only outshone by the breakdown that occurs in the latter half of the song where Andre 300 declares ‘Shake it like a Polaroid picture’ over and over again, whilst at the same time name dropping celebrities such as; Beyonce and Lucy Liu before once again dropping into the main chorus, before finally fading out.
Hey Ya!’s crowning achievement through its appreciation of a multitude of genres is its inability to feel dated, even now, six years after its initial release it sounds as fresh as ever, and as original. I never tire listening to it, and easily sat and listened to it on repeat as I wrote this review, and each listen brought something new, something I hadn’t noticed before, making it feel as though I was discovering the song all over again. This song is without a shadow of a doubt the best pop song released in the last decade, and will be remembered for years to come.
mp3: Outkast – Hey Ya!
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#5
words: Jamie Milton
Arcade Fire – Wake Up
Moments like this only come along so often. Arcade Fire are playing Reading Festival, post-‘Neon Bible’, sun on its way down. They play to a static crowd, one not all too familiar with the material on their second record, one drained from the energetic performance from Bloc Party that preceded Win Butler and co.’s entrance. I get up to leave, convinced that !!! will provide me with more entertainment on the dance stage. And then, as if it was always going to happen at that very second, ‘Wake Up’ began, the crowd got up from their feet, they erupted into a choir, the sun settling at its moment beautiful point. Everyone, united, happy, careless. It was one of the best moments of my life.
And so, for this writer to turn a blind eye to Arcade Fire’s finest song would be shunning a priceless memory. No other song from that entire set roused that much energy and reaction. On record, ‘Funeral’ truly affirms itself as an all-time classic when ‘Wake Up’ arrives, mid-way through. Chants have never sounded so passionate and genuine – summing up entirely what makes ‘Funeral’ such a spectacular piece of music: It comes from the core of the heart. It means everything.
mp3: Arcade Fire – Wake Up
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#6
words: David Molloy
illustration: Stevie-Marie Terry
LCD Soundsystem – Someone Great
On his early LCD Soundsystem records, James Murphy playfully took the P out of the modern indie rock climate, showing the mono-influenced name droppers how it’s done by becoming the ultimate name dropper himself on “Losing My Edge”. On his debut record he made his goal known, to stop talking about it and get it done, and on 2007’s Sound Silver, he went and did it, “Someone Great” being the best example on an outstanding record.
Over minimalistic thumps, scattershot beeps, and a gorgeous glockenspiel, Murphy’s lyrics about loss, sung somewhat monotonously but full of emotion all the same, can surely be related to by almost anyone who’s suffered a loss, be it one of a relationship or of a loved one. Who needs their edge when this can be done after losing it?
mp3: LCD Soundsystem – Someone Great
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#7
words: Matt McDonald
Franz Ferdinand – Take Me Out
When a decade is viewed in retrospect, only the strongest examples of its art come to define it. The 60s is Woodstock, Warhol and The White Album, the 70s is punk, prog and pretty fuckin’ A gangster movies. But what really defines the first decade of art in the 21st Century? For me, it’s not someone turning a boat into a shed, then back into a boat, and then into a pile of wank. Nor is it Chris Martin and the Bland Brigade wailing about how much Radiohead have inspired them. For me, the 2000s is defined by the angular, arty indie of bands like The Strokes, Bloc Party, and yes, Franz Ferdinand.
For me, the 2000s IS ‘Take Me Out’. When viewed in the context of Franz’ eponymous debut album, ‘Take Me Out’ is one of a series of no-nonsense art-pop bullets fired through the listener’s ears at Mach I. Viewed in isolation however, its effects are even more devastating. Ever since its 2004 release, this track has been so essential to indie discos nationwide that if a night runs its course without it being played, gangs of drainpipe-clad teenagers have been known to storm out of the club in a Lion King-esque stampede, uttering in unison: ‘Fuck this shit, man. FUCK. THIS.’
Technically speaking, ‘Take Me Out’ is a very simple song to play; a riff that can be played on one string, a lolloping, basic bass line and a disco beat. However, it is in the simplicity that the genius lies. You find yourself saying ‘…I could have thought of something like that’, but deep down you know that you should leave such beautiful creation to the gods. The lyrics, let’s be honest, are pretty meaningless. But when the repetition of something as basic as ‘I say ‘don’t you know’/you say you don’t know/I say/take me out’ can become such a primeval chant, it’s hard not to question Morrissey’s existence and wonder whether any words have any meaning whatsoever. It is for these reasons that ‘Take Me Out’ is in the top 10 songs of the decade. It controls the minds of the listeners, forcing them to indie-stomp the corpses of the opposition into the dancefloor. mp3: Franz Ferdinand – Take Me Out
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#10
words: Jamie Milton
illustration: Stevie-Marie Terry
The Knife – We Share Our Mother’s Health
Most critical commentators will look back on The Knife’s action this decade fondly – their unique, haunting applying of synthetics completely spoils tradition and ‘Silent Shout’, their latest release as a Swedish duo, exemplified the wonderful progression that somehow occurred within the two over the decade. Their peak in popularity appeared through ‘Heartbeats’, a song, once covered by acoustic-sweetheart and fellow Swede Jose Gonzalez, managed to surge the band into more recognition. But the following release, ‘Silent Shout’, was unlike any other electronic album released this year. Coherently terrifying, a journey like no other.
And it would have been easy to simply pit for a lucky dip in choosing one of ‘Silent Shout’’s assets for one of the songs of the decade. But it seemed only fair to pick the centerpiece: ‘We Share Our Mother’s Health’, a contrastingly streamlined piece of edgy dance music, maintaining the ghostly dramatics of the rest of the record but upping the anti with a twisted, get-up-and-dance attitude.
It’s the opening twenty seconds that first wows the listener: The first time you come across them, you’re blown completely to the side. Synths whimper, sob for seconds before a glass-like melody enters completely unexpectedly, unleashing a clean-cut, fast-paced beat – and we’re away. That’s the moment you fall for ‘We Share Our Mother’s Health’, and the rest of the record, as it happens.
mp3: The Knife – We Share Our Mother’s Health
MFM @ HYPEM
