Treble's Best Songs Ever of 2006

by Treble Staff; photo by Candice Eley

12.11.2006





If you look carefully enough, you may begin to find patterns in each year's best songs, like crystals forming in a pond in winter. Look back to 2004, and you'll hear social uproar over a treacherous political climate. Move forward to 2005, and you'll notice an emphasis on the dramatic, be it true to life tales or just intense fictions. And in 2006, the best that our favorite artists have had to offer seem to revolve around some very simple concepts—love, sex and death. Skateboarding romance, parenthetical lovers, revenge, funerals, knives, assassinations, even a case involving being with the offspring of an executioner. Now, this may not necessarily cover all the bases involved in 2006's best songs. And frankly, we enjoy a bit of diversity in our songs. Overall, we voted for more than 500 songs, total, between the two dozen of us writers. But we had to narrow it down to 50, and so we did. And while we don't proclaim these choices to be carved into stone and called out from a hillside to the masses, we do think they're pretty rad.

Enjoy.

"Den Her Sang Handler Om At Få Det Bedste Ud Af Det"
by Under Byen
from Samme Stof Som Stof

Of all the songs I heard this year, here is the most cinematic. It draws one into an infinite theatre of imagined scenes, always black and white, always melancholic. Under Byen, never afraid to lead the listener into unexpected territory, succeeds here in creating a massive landscape of shifting atmospheres, of contractions and dilations. What is forceful and assertive in their music meets what is meditative. They effectively conjure both a surface world, of things and actions, as well as something more subterranean—the subtle flux of uneasy emotion. "DHSHOAFDBUAD" is like a drama of human life in miniature, at its most robust, grandest magnitudes. Conceived from dangerously exalted ambition, it is rendered masterfully by a band at home in its densely complex and singular vision. – Tyler Parks


"Woman"
by Wolfmother
from Wolfmother

The outback rocks. From Mad Max to Steve Irwin (rest his soul), the land down under has given us much to be thankful for. Wolfmother is another succulent fruit of her bounty, with big hair and even bigger riffs. "Woman" is a straight up rockin' song, showcasing immense talent and energy with an Aussie twist. Furthermore, these boys have done their homework, giving nods to the annals of classic rock. Towards the middle they go into a séance, channeling the spirit of The Doors and taking us on a heavy trip. And don't think they loose that energy live, because that intensity becomes even more amplified. – Dean Steckel


"Louisiana"
by The Walkmen
from A Hundred Miles Off

The opening track of The Walkmen's A Hundred Miles Off provides a most accurate and splendid introduction to the album itself. The song is an easygoing portrait of a Louisiana day as a desired location to "kick it in the sunrise" and "think about a dream," especially when you have your hands full, as singer Hamilton Leithauser so heartily croons. The song, like the album, is light-hearted with a touch of pessimism, making it an ultimate example of the album's accessibility. The horn section is robust and paired perfectly with the quintessential piano, seamlessly concluding Leithauser's vocals with lovely, mariachi-tinged melody. And while listening to the album in its entirety unwittingly makes me categorize his vocals as just a bit monolithic, "Louisiana" finds Leithauser's vocal tendencies perfectly accentuated, allowing the listener to fully appreciate his brawny and passionate drones. – Anna Gazdowicz
Listen Here


"Rubies"
by Destroyer
from Destroyer's Rubies

Dan Bejar doesn't so much write songs as he does musical essays. In fact, sometimes I feel as if I need a companion piece written by a college professor from Vancouver to get every reference and play of words, much like you get with Thomas Pynchon's novels. This is easily the case with "Rubies," the ten minute opening title track of Bejar's latest album as Destroyer. I use the last qualifier as he's also just released an album with Spencer Krug and Carey Mercer as Swan Lake. "Rubies" is feast for the ears of every Bejar fan. It combines aspects of every single one of his previous albums, blending them into one hyper-literate, self-referential yet surprisingly accessible song. This opening salvo from one of the best albums of the year is ostensibly about the American popular music scene as he dismisses the industry and its critics alike while referencing both Your Blues and This Night as well as "Proud Mary" and "Dock of the Bay." In a way, as Bejar has often been compared to Bowie, one of his heroes, this is Bejar's "Young Americans." Bejar's tune takes a crack at American soul in words while Bowie's takes it on in sound, and while Bejar namechecks himself and a few oddments of other songs, Bowie lifts from the Beatles. I suppose the only difference is that Bowie was embracing American music, except for his nearly trademarked indictment, "ain't there one damn song that can make me…break down and cry." The majesty of "Rubies" just might do that, Mr. Bowie, but then again, he's Canadian. – Terrance Terich


"Fox Confessor Brings The Flood"
by Neko Case
from Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

Neko Case has done what few musicians are able to accomplish in the course of their career—become exponentially better with each release. Everyone's favorite fiery-haired alt-country diva (sorry Jenny Lewis, you come in at a close second) has even expanded her songwriting repertoire to encompass themes touching on the inevitable downfall of society on the title track from her excellent album Fox Confessor Brings The Flood. Chilling reverb unearths a somber ambiance, echoing alongside Neko's trademark tenor guitar strums. Newfound darker lyrical content surfaces in the first couplet: "Driving home I see the flooded fields/ how can people not know what beauty this is/ I've taken it for granted my whole life/ since the day I was born." As the reverb pulls the listener further into the ether, Case delivers one of the most profound, and for that matter, timely statements of the year with "It's not for you to know/ but for you to weep and wonder/ when the death of your civilization precedes you." She seems to revel in her prophetic revelations, and with a vocal range that magnificent, who can blame her? – Mars Simpson


"Parentheses"
by The Blow
from Paper Television

Infatuation, heartbreak and sex are well covered in the realm of pop music. Hell, we made an entire feature out of these three topics, choosing only 50 songs out of millions to do so. But the song that deals with an existing relationship, its intricacies and its private bittersweetness is a rare thing, indeed. The Blow's "Parentheses" is the most realistic portrayal of the everyday connection between two hearts, possibly ever. Set to a "My Boyfriend's Back" gone electro melody, "Parentheses" finds those everyday moments and subtly romanticizes them, from the warm and fuzzy ("When you're holding me/we make a pair of parentheses") to the vulnerable ("If something in the deli aisle makes you cry/I'll put my arm around you and I'll walk you outside"). Somehow, by the end of the song, it's gone from light and fun to soaring and powerful. You'll be bouncing around with your headphones on, but not without a lump in your throat. – Jeff Terich


"Ooh La La"
by Goldfrapp
from Supernature

Goldfrapp songs are undoubtedly sexy, but nothing prepared listeners for the ferociousness of "Ooh La La." The song throbs with a Canned Heat beat and recalls the heyday of Glam Rock and the icy sleekness of Eurodisco. Listening to "Ooh La La" is like hearing a really great dance remix, but that's just the trick; it's not a remix! I would be hard-pressed to imagine any DJ try to make this song more danceable than it already is. It's almost as if Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory just triple-dog-dared them to make it better. – Jackie Im


"Kick, Push"
by Lupe Fiasco
from Food & Liquor

It's been a good year for coke rap, quirky costumes and cerebral prog hip-hop. Not so much for the big names. But that young buck from that Kanye single last year turned out some of the most joyful and most classic hip-hop tracks of the year. The best of them, "Kick, Push," combines a steady, simple beat with cinematic string and horn samples, turning out a laid back but danceable treat. Of course, Fiasco's lyrics are what make it unique, telling of a skateboard romance, that being both with the board and a kick-flipping lady. "I would marry you," he quips, "but I'm already engaged to these aerials and varials." Lovers intertwined with no place to go, they're inevitably met with the disapproving "I'm sorry young man, but there's no skatin' here." Even in defeat, Fiasco is victorious. – Jeff Terich


"Long Time"
by The Roots
from Game Theory

We weren't fifty cents away from a quarter where I come from. I can actually recall long hours at a liquor store playing Street Fighter II and the quarters flowed pretty amply. Even still, I can understand the sentiments in The Roots' "Long Time" in the same way I can get Stevie Wonder's "I Wish" or even, so help me, John Mellencamp's "Small Town." Black Thought's recollections of Philadelphia play out over ?uestlove's slinky beat, the song enhanced by a string section and a muted guitar lick. As Black Thought and Peedi Peedi trade musings on how they didn't go under in the ghetto, they both admit that their city will always be a part of them. Yeah, it may sound cliché, but they manage to do it in an honest way rather than sounding like they're out fishing for street cred. You can't help but see the streets of your own home town when you hear somber, nostalgic strings of "Long Time," like you're at an old haunt looking out across the street at other familiar places. It may not be Philly, it may not have that soul, but you know that wherever you go you'll forever represent it. – Hubert Vigilla


"Visit from the Dead Dog"
by Ed Harcourt
from The Beautiful Lie

You could call it whimsy at your peril. After the opiate contentment of Strangers, "Visit from the Dead Dog" marked a return to the surrealist bent of Here Be Monsters. This was a Riefenstahl referencing, religion morphing, Tim Burton worthy homage to living afterthought. As he enters establishment, Ed is showing no signs of playing for safety. "Visit" is another implausibly brilliant smash hit that never was. I spent a couple of weeks in late June wondering around Riga and Helsinki in the light at 11pm with this on, and it felt perfect in the circumstances. – Tom Lee


"Did I Step on Your Trumpet"
by Danielson
from Ships

Delightfully weird and mindfully quirky, "Did I Step on Your Trumpet" is a toe-tapping explanation of the all-encompassing apology. Using the story of a childhood accusation of crushing a classmate's trumpet bell as a guide, the song's title is now apparently how Daniel Smith makes his amends. It's an upbeat and infectious number with a childlike quality that brings the listener to the core of what makes Ships such a wonderful album. Daniel Smith's vocals tread lightly along with that vivacious bassline, and the echoing chorus represents the very essence of the musical collective of Christian folksters they call Danielson. – Anna Gazdowicz
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"Within You"
by Ray LaMontagne
from Till the Sun Turns Black

Sometimes artists save the best until last, as is the case with Ray LaMontagne's "Within You." This Beatlesque tune reminiscent of "Hey Jude," "The Long and Winding Road" and "Let it Be" is a musical stunner. The lyrics are simple enough, echoing the John Lennon `less is more' ethos, with LaMontagne singing that `war is not the answer, the answer is within you' before repeating the long whispery and beautifully sung word, `love.' But the music simply flows right through you with its elegant strings and soft horns. LaMontagne surprised everyone with this delicate follow-up to his more Gomez-y first album, Trouble, and "Within You" was the icing on the proverbial cake. For singer / songwriters, it doesn't get too much better than this track, proving yet another cliché, that good things come to those who wait. - Terrance Terich


"Made Up Love Song #43"
by The Guillemots
from Through the Windowpane

Doubt and fear are my weaknesses. And upon listening to "Made Up Love Song #43," I found the song of the year to encapsulate my own foibles. Aren't we all looking for that song to find us? To fill that void that we cannot quite express yet in our heads? In the first few seconds of this song's intro, there is a mysterious drum noise. I cannot figure out if it was intentional or mistake, but I love trying to figure it out. There is a symphony that starts out only to be scratched out, and an organ rhythm playing all before singer Fyfe Dangerfield (real last name: Hutchins) even opens his mouth. And like many of my favorites, this song has a resolution. It's as if I've gone with this band through a journey, and I'm lucky enough to have learned their lessons with them. This song poses a dilemma, and then there is that answer at the end. Even better, in this case, the answer is a happy, joyful one. In my mind, the singer finds out within our own inadequacies, there still can be that someone who loves, and cares for our sorry sod self. Even if we may continually doubt. – Ayn Averett



"Conventional Wisdom"
by Built to Spill
from You in Reverse

If Treble had an award for best and biggest riff of 2006, there is not doubt Doug and Ben would share the honors hand in neck. Over driven and sublime, the choral hook of "Conventional Wisdom" explodes through the sub woofers and instructs its fans to wail on air as best they can. Uplifting in musical approach, lyrically the track tackles notions concerning the uselessness of prediction and formula stating simply that certainties lie in the uncertain and comfort can be found in knowing nothing can be known. Just as the listener settles in for what presents itself as a generic 3 minute rocker, the anything but generic maestro Martsch flips the script and reveals layers of carnival guitar work that extends the track past the six minute mark with waves of pulsating crescendos and whirlwind white heat eventually being relieved by the ultimate rock n roll teaser, a fade out. As always with Built to Spill, conventions need not apply. – Kevin Falahee


"Black Swan"
by Thom Yorke
from The Eraser

Thom Yorke blindsided everyone with this `surprise' solo album, announced mere weeks before its actual release. As such, there wasn't really any significant time to build any kind of expectation. The ironic thing is that it didn't really matter. Great material doesn't need any kind of obfuscation. The Eraser isn't like a terrible Hollywood film that avoids bad review by merely not giving critics an advanced viewing. No, Yorke has always been talented, releasing quality music and changing it up creatively ever since 1993's Pablo Honey. Despite many thoughts to the contrary, it was never a `one song' album. There's plenty of unmined underrated songs to discover including "Stop Whispering" and "Thinking About You." And although Yorke followed the rock and roll cliché of releasing a frontman solo record, he defies nearly every cliché in the book. There were no `special guest stars,' cover songs or radio-friendly hits. Yorke has never really followed a `traditional' path and the album's first single was certainly proof of that.

"Black Swan" was not only the first single, but is easily one of the best, not only on the album, but also of Yorke's entire career. Made entirely on computer, as is the rest of the album, the song is founded on hip-hop beats with slight bass and guitar lines for flavor. The composition apparently, at no surprise to any Radiohead fan, originated during the Kid A sessions, but was never used. Any chance of worldwide radio airplay was immediately thwarted by Yorke's liberal use of the f-bomb throughout the song, proving that financial gain, breakout fame and a solo career outside of his beloved band was never the goal. Yorke's favorite themes have also not disappeared, including paranoia, politics, fear and world destruction. There is such a thing as a Black Swan and it appears in Australia, but most artists use it to describe something both unexpected and of great consequence, the most recent being 9/11. In the song, Yorke uses the symbol as an indictment on American foreign policy, hinting that it shouldn't have been `unexpected,' and was indeed an event that was brought on by those self-same policies. And yes, Thom, this is `fucked up,' but it's a hell of a funky song, hypnotizing its listeners into head nodding along. – Terrance Terich


"Girl in the War"
by Josh Ritter
from The Animal Years

Josh Ritter's The Animal Years was my pick for the best album of the year. Unfortunately, and much to the shame of the rest of the Treble staff, it didn't end up making our final cut for our albums feature. Thankfully, the stellar opening track from the album, "Girl in the War," did end up getting noticed. It's been rumored that Ritter became a musician thanks to hearing Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash duet on "Girl of the North Country." Ritter's style lies in that angelic space between those two legends, as deft as Dylan and as crafty as Cash, a voice as singular as both. "Girl in the War" opens up Ritter's fourth album, and acts, as a reflection on the futility of not only war, but also of prayer. The narrator begs St.'s Peter and Paul to help his girl, stuck, obviously, in the war. He tells them that if they can't help him they can `go to hell,' a particularly funny / ironic statement that reminds me of my college Milton professor. In studying Milton's seminal work, Paradise Lost, my professor pointed out the ridiculousness of the passage describing the war in heaven between the angels. The seraphim are indestructible, thus making any kind of warfare seem aimless. Ritter, the son of neurosurgeons, seemingly understands Milton's sharp wit while also employing Neil Young's gift of folk storytelling, Michael Penn's pop sensibilities and TV on the Radio's harmonic vocals. There are other fantastic gems of songs on The Animal Years, but Ritter hooks us in with its brightest standout. – Terrance Terich


"We All Lose One Another"
by Jason Collett
from Idols of Exile

This song is just under a year old, but it may as well be 30. Sort of a contemporary "Wild Horses," Jason Collett's breathtaking, twangy ballad puts genuine country sadness into a Day of the Dead celebration, observing the tactile details, such as "flower petals on the altar" and "silver coins for ghosts to gamble with." It's not a eulogy so much as a detached and distant observation, and yet it's so painfully beautiful, it makes the tears that much harder to choke back. It could take a while before we look back at this song and recognize it as a classic in the same sense that the Stones, Dylan or Neil Young might be, but it sure as hell is that good. – Jeff Terich


"Insistor"
by Tapes `n' Tapes
from The Loon

Without the Internet kindled blog hype surrounding T 'n T this year it's hard to imagine we would ever see a band so content to wear the indie influence on collective thrift store sleeves shooting dice on the inside of Rolling Stone magazine. Then again, without the aforementioned computer crutches another Minneapolis band falls through the cracks only to be found years after their departure. Glad to see we all got it right this time. "Insistor" with it's quick, thoroughbred tempo and western, jangled guitar strums spins a tale of beauty and the bastard with the narrator longing for salvation in the form of forbidden embrace and the mechanical promises that neither lover can keep. An ousted outlaw holding tight to the lies of infidelity smiles, "Insistor" proves itself a tale for the campfire as well as college radio. – Kevin Falahee
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"Hold On, Hold On"
by Neko Case
from Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

Any man whose been jackpotted with the good fortune of Neko Case having applied her mouth anywhere on his body must've been stung by a bee from the hive in her larynx, because this chanteuse's voices drizzles like pure honey. With "Hold On, Hold On" Case gets a little help from her fellow Canucks in the Sadies to implement a dark, twangy tale straight out of a David Lynch film set in America's Heartland. With subject matter as vivid as lonesome red headed cuties, 3am parties, an in between girl, and valium, what's not to love? – Chris Pacifico


"The Perfect Crime #2"
by The Decemberists
from The Crane Wife

Earlier this year, an episode of CSI featured part of The Decemberists' epic "The Island" as incidental music. And while that funky prog intro certainly grooves, it would have been far more appropriate, if perhaps a little obvious, to use "The Perfect Crime #2." One of a few stylistic diversions for the band on The Crane Wife, "Crime" brought a much welcome funk aspect to the band's oeuvre. As Colin Meloy incants "sing muse of the passion of the pistol," whilst mentioning "a well dressed man in the crosshairs" and unleashes the climactic, echoing "a shot rings out from somewhere," no specific crime is explicitly stated, but Meloy & Co. create the perfect noir atmosphere nonetheless. And it's one of the few Decemberists songs to which you can really shake your ass. Some have accused the band of sounding like Steely Dan here, but I don't remember Donald Fagen and Walter Becker grooving this hard. – Jeff Terich


"Steady as She Goes"
by The Raconteurs
from Broken Boy Soldiers

People magazine recently put out their 2006 edition of "Sexiest Man Alive" that includes not just one featured sexy man (this year's leading contender being George Clooney), but a whole bunch more to indulge your inner prepubescent hormonal fangirl (she's in all of us – this is true). The "sexiest band" title of the year was given to the Killers, and for my inner fangirl, this was disappointing. Personally, I would have awarded the sexy band award to the Raconteurs, whose lineup of Jack White (rock star sexy), Brendan Benson (skinny scruffy sexy), Patrick Keeler (floppy-haired drummer sexy), and Jack Lawrence (not so much sexy, but I guess I can't leave him out) makes for one fine specimen indeed. I digress. All sexiness aside, "Steady As She Goes" is a great song. Steadily showing off the talents (pun intended) of the Greenhornes' rhythm section and a successful fusion of White and Benson's raw blues and power pop tendencies (respectively), the song quite nicely represents the Raconteurs' 2006 supergroup debut. Broken Boy Soldiers wasn't necessarily groundbreaking or innovative, but hey, it's fun. And sexy. Can't forget the sexy. – Anna Gazdowicz


"We Share Our Mother's Health"
by The Knife
from Silent Shout

With the release of Silent Shout, the Knife has become one of the most respected and most written about electronic bands working today. A major reason for that is their ability to create a persona which matches their music. Both are at once inviting and recalcitrant, swathed in an attractive and voluptuous mystery. "We Share our Mother's Health" is perhaps their most satisfyingly enigmatic track, both lyrically and musically. Centered on Karin Dreijer's androgynous, altered vocals and a clatter of electronic percussion, it invokes a mesmeric spectrum of images, sounds and sensations. As the lyrics invite any number of potential interpretations, many intriguing though none sufficient, the track itself leant itself to excellent remixes by Ratatat and Trentemøller, neither of which matches the impenetrable mixture of dread and ecstasy present in the original. – Tyler Parks


"White Collar Boy"
by Belle & Sebastian
from The Life Pursuit

Awww! Whatsa matter?!! Poor wittle rich boy having some problems?! Isobell Campbell may be long gone but Scotland's prime pop exports are still reigning supreme as their sixth proper release The Life Pursuit, a long player chock full of jangly goodness, showed no signs of waning creativity. "White Collar Boy" contains a buzzing cardiograph fuzz line that any savvy DJ could mash up with Norman Greenbaum's "Spirit in the Sky." Even though it may be B&S' first single not to make it into the top 40 since 1997's "Lazy Line Painter Jane," it's just as good as any other of their charting ditties—so good that it almost made me feel bad for laughing like a bastard when Jack Black referred to Belle and Sebastian as "sad bastard music" in the film High Fidelity. – Chris Pacifico


"Bicycle Bicycle You Are My Bicycle"
by Be Your Own Pet
from Be Your Own Pet

"We ride bikes, cars are for idiots."
Be Your Own Pet had already blown me away with their debut single, "Damn Damn Leash," but their full-length album on Thurston Moore's label was, amazingly, even better. Songs like "Adventure" and "Let's Get Sandy (Big Problem)," the latter lasting less than one minute in length, were the singles, but to us here at Treble, a different track stood out from the rest. "Bicycle Bicycle You Are My Bicycle" finds the four youngsters following the maxim `write what you know.' They do indeed ride bicycles, and thanks to this year's gas prices, they're having the last laugh. On the album, there are more examples of this practice including songs about asthma inhalers (which they all apparently use). The song was only released outside the album proper as a `download only' single in June, but for the BYOP faithful, most of us newly initiated thanks to their meteoric rise, it was the best one. One can't help but scream along with winsome singer Jemina Pearl Abegg as she and her cohorts yell, "We're on two wheels, baby!" It's enough to make you want to ditch the Scion and trade it in for a Schwinn. – Terrance Terich
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"Mothers, Sisters, Daughter & Wives"
by Voxtrot
from Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives

The title track from Voxtrot's EP released in April, "Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives" marked the start of something beautiful wrapped up in disguise as something overwhelming. The EP showed that Voxtrot had come into their own as songwriters while still having ties to their Brit pop influences. The result was a song that has the ability to exhaust and elicit awe simultaneously. Ramesh Srivastava's lyrics on "Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives" are a dense, exasperating collection of well-turned phrases that almost resemble diction exercises (e.g., "Two years of taction only teaches you to fight," "You always stop when you start, and listen, you would be smart"). Between the chorus and the next verse, there's a much-needed respite to give Srivastava a chance to catch breath as the guitars and rhythm section push straight ahead into the next chorus of call-and-repeat chords and a haunting leading guitar. Admittedly, I still can't quite make out what "Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives" is about. I get the sense it's about struggling through exhaustion to make one's situation better or getting through to someone you care about, yet even that's pretty vague. It's still a song that is undeniably affecting like a runner's high. – Hubert Vigilla
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"Lazy Eye"
by Silversun Pickups
from Carnavas

Problem: How to channel aggression, induce catharsis, and craft an original sound while avoiding the pitfalls of the pop-punk crowd. Solution: Turn up the distortion, invoke the masters of shoegazing from the early '90s, and write a climactic song that leaves the listener yearning for that well-timed scream rather than counting the seconds until it's over. With "Lazy Eye," L.A. 's Silversun Pickups accomplish just that via their unique brand of brazen, pedal-friendly guitar work and the luminous atmospherics of swirling keyboard effects. "Lazy Eye" is loud, often abrasive, and entirely unapologetic. Lead singer and guitarist Brian Aubert's unassuming strums lead the listener up the tracks' perilous peak before plunging them into an abyss of glorious fuzz midway through. Bass goddess Nikki Monninger's steamy plucks invigorate Aubert's impassioned howls before the effects pedals really go to work. The result is a flawlessly executed exercise in tension building and the ecstasy of release. Aubert seems to recognize his achievement in the songs final few seconds, crooning "I've been waiting for this moment all my life." I couldn't agree more. – Mars Simpson


"Pass The Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind"
by Yo La Tengo
from I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass

Listen: ner-ner-ner-NER-ner-ner, ner-ner-ner-NER-ner-ner. That is, apparently, all it takes for Yo La Tengo to get all excited and write one of their greatest songs to date. That chugging bass riff is, once heard, irremovable from your head and sets its targets directly on your dancing feet. Slap some viscous, squealy guitar mania over the top of the already solid-as-The-Rock foundation and witness Yo La Tengo outclassing everyone for a blistering eleven minutes. As an opening to their classic (yes, classic) album I Am Not Afraid Of You and I Will Beat Your Ass this is more than anyone could have hoped for and serves as a wonderful introduction to an odyssey that we thought they couldn't still pull off nowadays. With ease, they have reminded everyone just how powerful simplicity can be when they're unafraid to just try and thrill people. This song is the beginning of another golden era for Yo La Tengo. – Daniel Ross
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"Mr. Tough"
by Yo La Tengo
from I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass

There are many examples of the power of dance throughout human history, most notably from the Breakin' movies and the way Pee-wee Herman soothed some savage Hell's Angels in Pee-wee's Big Adventure. More evidence of the power of dance is found is found in Yo La Tengo's "Mr. Tough." The lesson: that on the dancefloor you can pile up your woes in the corner like jackets and coats on an empty bed. Of course, it's not so much the message itself but the quirky method of delivery that makes the song compelling: a mix of falsetto vocals, funky ass bossa nova and cowbell. It's enough already to elicit some slow, summery hip swaying. But if that isn't infectious enough, an arrangement of soulful horns box steps in during the second verse, giving the rest of "Mr. Tough" a lush, warm groove. Perhaps the next time you're in a jam, you can give it the old soft shoe to the tune of "Mr. Tough" rather than running away or resorting to fisticuffs. If you're lucky, you may ditch the problems, even if only for little awhile. And hey, if that doesn't work, there's always platform shoes and "Tequila." – Hubert Vigilla


"Postcards From Italy"
by Beirut
from Gulag Orkerstar

The revered indie rock progeny of 2006 shines as much as he shivers on this track from his debut album that reveals the broken heart behind the concisely constructed Balkan-esque beauty. As everyone from Dylan to Mangum to Oberst have proven, young love lost translated through a precocious voice can often times yield poetic pain that twists the insides and weld up eyes. Dwelling on the memories and yearning for a present that can create a smile, "Postcards from Italy" utilizes images of a frostbit winter juxtaposed with a bright May day to play the misery against the hope and show that even the worst of times with someone are better than without. Pawn shoppe strums and gramophone horns with pacing snare rolls lift Condon's vocals past the point of whisper and showcase the maturity residing in the shell of a broken boy. – Kevin Falahee
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"First Vietnamese War"
by The Black Angels
from Passover

It starts off with jarring staccato guitar licks and an impending helicopter's propeller before Jennifer Raines' slithering organ sets in the mood sailing the PT boat up the river of the Black Angels' psychedelic haze. Even though members of this Austin quintet were probably born within the fifteen years immediately after the Vietnam War, they still capture the essence of a burned out solider with his mind deep in the mist of potent acid, as well as all the weed and opium that grew wildly in 'Nam like my uncle used to tell me about. As soon as the tension layered waver in singer Alex Maas' voice declares "We got off that boat/Charlie's everywhere" the Black Angels have contrasted an unpopular war from yester generations to one taking place today, complete with the paranoia associated with not knowing who the enemy is or when and where they'll strike next. – Chris Pacifico
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"Ballad Of Human Kindness"
by The Dears
from Gang of Losers

The whispering orchestral passages in The Dears' "Ballad Of Human Kindness" provide a silky bedding for lead singer Murray Lightburn's, lyrics which are weighty in tone and significant in meaning as he pours out, "Well, I thought that we'd all care about peace/ And I thought that we'd cry about love and loss/ And I thought that we were somehow holding on, but I'm just standing here…No one should have to live all of their life on their own." Lightburn's musings about people's indifference towards each other has universal relevance—people are meant to be there for each other, but choose not to be. The Dears have long been described as orchestral pop's dark romantics and "Ballad Of Human Kindness" brings to light a darkness in humanity, a lack of compassion which Lightburn rings out, "And I can't believe the vast amounts of people living on the streets/ And I can't believe that I was almost one of them, and I almost died/ And I can't believe I haven't leant a hand, that I'm just standing here/ Well, I'm gonna change." It compels the listener to feel what it is like to be the person who is abandoned and alone, and inspires the listener to shed their own insensitivity. – Susan Frances


"Reena"
by Sonic Youth
from Rather Ripped

Some artists just refuse to burn out. Our generation has been spoiled by bands who consistently put out quality records well into their twilight. Robert Pollard still shits gold every few weeks, Steve Malkmus has a reinvigorated spirit, and hey I heard even Hall and Oates are hitting the studio again soon! But what Sonic Youth have done with
Rather Ripped is incomparable to the rest; they have capstoned a new halcyon era and created their most cohesive and beautiful work since 1990's Goo. An enormous part of the success of Rather Ripped is their open embracing of melody. Kim Gordon opener "Reena" sets the tone of the album with pristine sounding reverbed guitars and haunting harmonies. The rage of the past albums is still remains, but it is streamlined through perfectly executed moments of vocal passion rather than their typically crunchy guitar dissonance. With such a substantial back catalog at this point in their career, they said "why the fuck not" to making an accessible record and it sparked a new masterpiece. EDIT: Hall and Oates is apparently not getting back together. Hopefully Ever. – Tyler Agnew


"O Valencia!"
by The Decemberists
from The Crane Wife

If the Decemberists are known for anything, it's the ability to write songs that are simultaneously catchy, poignant, and undeniably memorable. "O Valencia!" is classic Decemberists in that sense, an upbeat, captivating pop tune backed with what we've come to expect from Colin Meloy's storytelling talents – a tale of star-crossed love and inevitable demise, with the undying proclamation of "I swear by the stars/I'll burn this whole city down." The vocals are lovely, the guitars are dexterous, and the drums and chimes guide and accentuate the song's sweet terrain. Simply put, it's a wonderful representation of the fourth installment in a very successful series of albums by the Portland group, demonstrating that the Decemberists show little sign of slowing down. – Anna Gazdowicz


"The President's Dead"
by Okkervil River

The relaxed exactness is what makes Okkervil River's "The President is Dead" a song to behold, and in this case, allot a place on Treble's Top 50 songs of 2006. The song goes right into the variably directional folk tunes that we're familiar with that matches perfectly with the subject matter of the lyrics—a man without a grand or even apparent direction in life absorbing his usually drab suburban surroundings and appreciating them for something beyond what they are. Both the man and the music change drastically once it is announced that, "The President is Dead." The shot of three snare snaps propels the song into escape velocity, adding electric guitar and percussion that complicate rhythm and the life of the man and the melody. Suddenly, all of the "Littlest things," no longer made him feel like he was blessed, because the President is dead. The "eggs on the plate and the bacon hissin'/ and the coffee was great and there was spring on the wind," are just the same as they were before, but now that a man who was killed in a far off place, they can't be appreciated. – Paul Bozzo
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"Star Witness"
by Neko Case
from Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

Neko Case actually witnessed a gang-related shooting of a youth in Chicago, a kid who was shot for being mistaken for someone else, his future and dreams spilled out on to the pavement for reasons beyond his, and Case's, comprehension. That "Star Witness," a haunting and beautiful murder ballad, is based on this true-life tragedy makes it all the more affecting. Brushed drums sweep and reverb heavy guitar weep, while Neko's narrative unfolds: "my true love drowned in a dirty old pan of oil that had run from the block of a Falcon sedan 1969...the paper said '75." The actual incident is never explicitly stated, merely alluded to with the most minute of details, the small things that are lost forever, and of the racially biased society that turns a blind eye—"this is nothing new, no television news/they don't even turn on the siren." And somehow, amidst the most horrific of circumstances, Case delivers a harrowing nightmare with an angelic sound. When she sings "hey there, there's such deadly wolves `round town tonight," she may be delivering a warning, or merely stating the unfortunate truth, but the harmonies are so sweet, they make the shock that much easier to take. – Jeff Terich
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"Over and Over"
by Hot Chip
from The Warning

Plenty of 2006's records have focused on excess and abandon. Few pulled it off with as much likeability and poise as "Over and Over." Plotting a checkered path calling at Earth Wind and Fire, Prince, Gang of Four, Soft Cell and Miss Kittin, the "joy of repetition" has never sounded so appealing. The song is up there amongst the best offbeat pop songs, making the interesting inexplicably straightforward and addictive. This will become an indie disco staple of "Step On" proportions. – Tom Lee


Cat Power
"The Greatest"
from The Greatest

It begins with the soft, falling notes of piano keys, followed by the splash of a rippling guitar, a sprinkling of drums like rain on a tin roof, and then we hear Chan Marshall's beautifully fluid voice. It is the title track form Cat Power's latest album, released back in January, which means it had to be memorable to last an entire twelve months in order to make our final songs list. It is easily one of Marshall's best, trading the Muhammad Ali `powers of the air' mantras (`Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee') for those of water (`No wind or waterfall could stall me / Then came the rush of the flood'). Like Ben Folds' "Boxing," "The Greatest" tells the tale of a boxer past his prime. Marshall similarly finds pathos in Ali's story, comparing the vigorous and brash youth with the man that Parkinson's has counted down but not out. "Two fists of solid rock / With brains that could explain any feeling." One can't help but think of Ali in his current state and use that as a comparison with the much younger Marshall. The woman known as Cat Power has gone through problems with alcohol, intense stage fright and, at one point, even briefly `retired' at the tender age of 24. Thankfully, she came back to us, giving us some of the best music of her career. "The Greatest," and the album for which it is named, is like Ali's big comeback against George Foreman, the infamous "Rumble in the Jungle." Both serve to remind us who really is `The Greatest.' – Terrance Terich
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"European Oils"
by Destroyer
from Destroyer's Rubies

If I were to direct a video for "European Oils," it would have to be sumptuous, disturbing, perhaps a little rococo, and rife with Roman columns. You see, that's exactly the sort of imagery that Dan Bejar summons in this magnificent rock opera—elegant piano twinkles and fuzzy guitar solos provide the perfect bed for an intricately woven narrative of lust and bloodshed. Cries of "death to the murderers we've loved all our lives" and talk of "getting it on with the hangman's daughter" are merely pieces of a larger puzzle, as usual, Bejar's lyrics portraying a cryptic, expressionist abstraction of epic songcraft. It's art rock at its absolute best, and hell, it's even pretty catchy, particularly during the cascading, sublime chorus of "la-da-da-da-di-di-di-di-da." Okay, now cue the smashed vase and splash of crimson when he sings "she needs to feel at peace with her father...the fucking maniac." – Jeff Terich


"When You Were Young"
by The Killers
from Sam's Town


"When You Were Young" contains one of my favorite lines from all year: "We're burnin' down the highway skyline, on the back of a hurricane that started turnin' when you were young." Brandon Flowers' words capture the rambunctious nature of being young rather well. Along with youth, this single captures how the band has progressed since their debut album and single. Seriousness aside, it's got a killer beat, no pun intended. At the parties I've been to in '06, "When You Were Young" has gotten a three to four replays a night. A well-crafted pop song is always appreciated, especially when it's the soundtrack to the greatest telenovela ever. – Dean Steckel


"And I Was a Boy From School"
by Hot Chip
from The Warning

Hot Chip has actually been around since 2000, but this year found the London quintet turning in the best of their careers, namely The Warning. Their inventive mix of dance beats, indie aesthetics and an incredible dual vocal balance earned them nods as the heirs to the crown held by New Order, and rightly so. Several songs, sometimes mixed by their label lab rats DFA, were noteworthy, but "And I Was a Boy From School" is one of the major standouts. The song starts out with a keyboard loop reminiscent of Daft Punk, but then finds Alexis Taylor's falsetto breaking in to recall Andy Bell, only to find himself undercut beautifully by the bass vocals of Joe Goddard. Its verses are catchy enough, but the true magic of "Boy From School," as it is called in its `single' version, comes with the choruses and the bridge. Usually, pop songs find a bit of energetic life in the chorus. That's where Axl Rose brings you to your `kn-kn-kn-kn-knees.' Not so for Hot Chip who slow things down in this chorus, and stunningly. Their repeated harmonizing of "We try, but we didn't have long" is spine tingling. They only up the ante in the bridge when all the instruments save for bells and what sounds like a zither pull back, revealing Goddard heartbreakingly singing "I got, I got lost." Taylor's reply answers in kind, equally heartbreaking, and somewhat hopeless as he blames his partner, "You said this was the way back." "Boy From School" makes me think of what would result from Brian Wilson coming of age in the laptop generation. – Terrance Terich


"Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken"
by Camera Obscura
from Let's Get Out of This Country

Awww, poor Tracyanne Campbell. First she couldn't tell her elbow from her arse and now she can't see further than her own nose at this moment. It would all seem so tragic if the twee pop didn't soar as gleefully as it does on "Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken," its title a response to the Lloyd Cole song "Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken?" Are you done giggling? Yeah, it is a witty response title, kind of like The Baldwin Brothers and Lawrence Arms songs "Are You There, Margaret? It's Me, God." The lines "I've got my life of complication here to sort out / I'll take myself to an east coast city and walk about" have some autobiographical resonance, given that I recently moved to the east coast. And come to think of it, I can't see further than my own nose or tell my elbow from my arse most of the time either. Maybe that's why I sometimes catch myself humming this song when I'm walking out in the city, or maybe it's just catchy enough that I'd hum it even if I were back three time zones away where the weather is so much warmer. – Hubert Vigilla
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"Suspicious Character"
by The Blood Arm
from Lie, Lover, Lie

Here it is, the perfect rock single. Cocky swagger? Check. Rockin' riffs? Check. A bit of classic rock piano? Check. Some disco beats to make it danceable? Check. And the biggest fucking chorus of the whole year (yeah, I said it)? You bet yer ass. Nathaniel Fregoso's claim "I like all the girls and all the girls like me" seemingly comes off as both boast and lament. In one instance he sings "change my name in twelve states/just to escape this prosecution," in another, "come back to my apartment and I'll show you what it's for." It ain't easy being this much of a sex machine, and Fregoso pulls it off with panache. But being backed by such an insistent, pounding rhythm and Dyan Valdes' crashing piano certainly doesn't hurt. – Jeff Terich


"Roscoe"
by Midlake
from The Trials of Van Occupanther

Few songs are able to transcend the particular time and place in which they are written. "Roscoe" was the song to beat in 2006 for that category, and nothing even came close to its nostalgic underpinnings. It at once invokes peak-era Fleetwood Mac a la Rumours and yet lyrically it delves into a much deeper past, conjuring images of "mountaineers," "stone cutters" and the characters of some forgotten 19th Century township. Lead singer/guitarist/keyboardist Tim Smith's ebullient and unparalleled, yet delicate falsetto is as soothing as it is forceful. Combine a dead-on rhythm section buttressed by gorgeous 70s guitar posturing and harrowing piano strikes with all the agrarian imagery of the 1800s and the illusion is complete. Try to listen to this song with your eyes closed and not be transported to a bygone era. As Smith laments "Thought we were due for a change `round this place," you'll feel the tug of escapism pulling at your worn boots and lament the late harvest and all the work you have left to do. – Mars Simpson
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"In the Morning"
by Junior Boys
from So This is Goodbye

Jeremy Greenspan's warning "you're too young" seems almost ironic, if only for the contradiction that a denial of forbidden sexual activity places upon a song that's so steeped and swathed in sex. Those repetitive breathing sounds, the gyrating motion that the beats induce, Greenspan's own soft vocals—it smacks of eroticism, if only subtly. But in its essence, this song is capable of transcending sexuality. With the added programming of Mouse on Mars' Andi Toma, dancefloor electro-funk and glitch IDM meet with a sparkling sheen, an ethereal glaze that turns the corporeal into the enchanting. Yet unlike like the icy, barely there synths of "High Come Down" or "Last Exit," these bassy grooves were made to move bodies, and that initial warning becomes youthful mocking, as innocence and its impending loss are so gleefully celebrated. Dance music never sounded this alive, nor this sophisticated all at once. – Jeff Terich
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"SexyBack"
by Justin Timberlake
from FutureSex/LoveSounds

Let's face it, when Justin Timberlake emerged as a solo artist, much of the music world scoffed. Who did this teenybopper think he was? While Justified did provide some solid tracks, it was hardly the kind of pop album that changed opinions about him. Then came "SexyBack," the lead single off his confident second LP, FutureSex/LoveSounds. It sounds like no other Timbaland-produced track, much less like anything else on the pop charts. If anything, the track sounded eerily like the DFA produced it. Justin Timberlake and Timbaland managed to make a sexy, confident track that defied expectations while still rocking the party. This is the song in which Justin comes into his own. – Jackie Im



"Young Folks"
by Peter, Bjorn and John
from Writer's Block

The euphoria of a first meeting between two people is, of course, one of the ideal experiences upon which a pop song can be grafted. If that meeting is between characters conscious that they are in possession of a past, the disclosure of which could put a cramp in the night's goings on, all the better. Björn Yttling and Peter Móren worked out the dialogue of such an experience perfectly; then they made all the right decisions in crafting it into the year's most memorable and insanely irresistible song. Victoria Bergsman's smoky, unaffected vocals perfectly match the late-night mood of the woozy bass lines, subtle keyboard drones and shake-inducing drums. And then there is the whistling, intoxicating enough to induce any number of people to refer to it simply as "The Whistling Song." But for many it will be much more than that, a song to re-experience our own unexpected meetings and the strange array of emotions we were then susceptible to. We've all been there. I hope. – Tyler Parks


"Knife"
by Grizzly Bear
from Yellow House

This song, full of some of the most lusciously off-kilter harmony vocals I have ever heard, has been on heavy rotation in my world for quite some time. Initially unassuming, by the time it draws to a close, it leaves the listener in a dream-strewn world (a world the size of a bedroom to be sure) inhabited by all her happiest imaginings. What is certain: it has a way of crawling inside of you and excavating all the worries, woes and paranoias of the past weeks, days, months, years, and casting them out into a bottomless abyss—at least for the five minutes and fourteen seconds which it lasts. I like to think of it as a temporary asylum from which one may emerge again and again, eyes open to the color and fascination present in the world around and within. – Tyler Parks
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"Crazy"
by Gnarls Barkley
from St. Elsewhere

Cee-Lo has been around for many years as a member of Goodie Mob and as a solo artist, but he's never sounded quite like this. Stripping his vocals to their gospel-influenced essence, Cee-Lo cuts out the quirkiness and delivers the most emotionally raw feel-good songs of the year. Yet the outstanding vocals of Cee-Lo alone does not make a good song great. The industrious and sometimes erratic Danger Mouse lends his producing prowess to Gnarls, and the smooth funk makes for an unlikely R&B smash like no other. – Jackie Im


"The Funeral"
by Band of Horses
from Everything All the Time

"I'm coming up only to hold you under."
So begins what I believe is the best song written all year. I recently read a review that claimed it `nearly' anthemic. Nearly, my ass. Band of Horses, as most of you probably already know, is made up of Ben Bridwell and Matthew Brooke, formerly of Seattle's beloved Carissa's Wierd. This duo cemented their Seattle cred after signing with Sub Pop and releasing the epic Everything All the Time. "The Funeral" is one of those tracks that you end up playing on repeat for your entire commute, never tiring of its grandiosity, always on edge with anticipation for every majestic crescendo. Bridwell's voice, the pair's guitars and the thunderous drum fill near the close of the song all vie for being the highlight of this particularly dark track that seems to be shoving My Morning Jacket to the wings of the `next Neil Young' stage.

I imagine this track could have been a perfect fit as a theme song for the now bygone HBO show Six Feet Under. Better still, it might even serve as a `just as perfect' replacement for Sia's "Breathe Me," the last song heard on the final episode of the show, another of this year's great tracks. Try it at home with your new SFU box set and you'll find that it serves the scenes just as well, if just a little more supercharged as opposed to hanky-waving. No 2006 compilation would be complete without "The Funeral." It is not `nearly' anthemic, it is `actually' anthemic, and probably the most energizing since "Sunday Bloody Sunday." Let's face it, Bridwell, and to a lesser extent his bandmates, looks like a Muppet, making him the next in line to replace Floyd Pepper should he need an understudy, and everyone knows that I think Muppets are beyond cool. To top it all off, it's an incredibly dark song. And you all thought that you had to sound like Nine Inch Nails to express morbid themes. Shame on you! – Terrance Terich
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"Wolf Like Me"
by TV on the Radio
from Return to Cookie Mountain

Nobody makes a good old fashioned monster movie like they used to. Hollywood, instead, turns to flesh eating viruses, sadistic Slavic dudes with torture chambers and, ugh, even death himself to do the dirty work. So leave it to TV on the Radio to resurrect the old werewolf story in a heart-racing single. The Brooklyn band's lycanthropic yarn is more of a nightmarish Tex Avery cartoon than violent terror, Tunde Adebimpe howling "when the moon is round and full/gotta bust that box, gotta gut that fish," unleashing the basest carnal desire for human flesh. A wolf's gotta get some sweet ass, too, you know. The pursuit is only heightened by the song's production, a typically dense and urgent TVotR creation turned deeply intense. Buzzing fuzz bass strikes a path for this supernatural Casanova, as an insistent beat propels him along, not to mention Dave Sitek's always amazing jetstreams of guitar, thickening the air and turning the heat up to sweltering. When the free-floating interlude breaks up the sweaty transformation mid-way, a minimum of cool-down time is provided before that bass kicks up more dust and pheromones.

An intriguing and clever song, it encapsulates everything that's great about rock music, let alone the band that wrote it. Hearing it live in a small room amidst unusually energetic hipsters made for a personal highlight in 2006, and the power and excitement only returns and swells once this song starts up again. Nothing this year can possibly beat "Wolf Like Me" for sheer driving power. And when that clattering low end reverberates inside the ears, a similarly primal transformation occurs within the listener, causing limbs to flail and bounce as he finds himself howling…forever. - Jeff Terich
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