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The Tris McCall Report

Critics Poll 2005 -- Miscellaneous Categories

It helps to have something to say.

Best Album Title

After years of long, portentious, threatening titles, voters lightened up. For the first time in forever, awful punning was in: Sufjan Stevens's Come On Feel The Illinoise drew votes, as did Road To Rouen by Supergrass. To be fair, nobody could really tell whether or not the Stevens album title was called Come On Feel The Illinoise, or Sufjan Stevens Invites You To Come On Feel The Illinoise, or just Illinois, which isn't a joke at all. No such question about Belle & Sebastian's Push Barman To Open Old Wounds, a gag that, like Dear Catastrophe Waitress, required you to be looking at the album cover to understand. Even The Rolling Stones got into the jovial-literate spirit with A Bigger Bang, which is wordplay, sort of; and some of our Garden State respondents plumped for the cheeky Jersey's Best Prancers by the Ergs. The plurality favorite (nine votes), Get Behind Me Satan, is nearly a joke about The White Stripes, since everybody knew that if they kept on recording, they were eventually going to record an album called Get Behind Me Satan. My favorite call, from Mike Cimicata, is a hipster-ironic reference to a Detroit legend even more mystical than Jack White: Electric Six's Senor Smoke.

Best Album Cover

"This category is becoming increasingly irrelevant", writes Tom Snow. "The iTunes user experience is so outstanding, I'm willing to forego packaging for convenience. My apologies to Hipgnosis." Over the past five years, many voters have been making the same claim about albums -- that portable MP3 players have changed listening patterns to the point that the traditional album/single dichotomy no longer applies to anybody's lived experience. That may be true, but no evidence to support that claim has ever shown up in the poll. If anything, Critics Poll voters seem more attached to the album now than they did in the nineties. But does Tom have a point about the covers and packaging? In 2003, we had sixty-five voters, twenty-nine of whom bothered to list a Best Album Cover. Last year there were 106 total ballots, and 42 votes in the category, and this year, 37 in 128. So, yes, the percentage of Critics Poll voters who care enough to pick an exemplary album cover is declining: perhaps the best sign we've got that digital downloads have indeed begun changing the way music is evaluated. There have often been trends to track here, too -- common themes and approaches. But in '05, only one album cover appeared on more than one ballot: Devendra Banhart's Cripple Crow.

Most Welcome Surprise

"Still on the fence about Sinead O'Connor's roots reggae remakes", admitted Jesse Wright, "but I know her heart was there for real". Others were surprised to see her back at all -- Darla Phillips reminds us that she'd renounced the world and allegedly gone into permanent retirement in a convent after her last record. The more prosaic among us saved their surprise for the Fiona Apple and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club albums. J Braun, however, awoke to this surprising revelation, common to veteran rockers: "hey, I'm still here!"

Biggest Disappointment

A tie between Liz Phair's maligned Somebody's Miracle, and the poll-winning Twin Cinema. There's never been anything close to unanimity in this poll -- every year, our winner and runner-up get plenty of votes in negative categories. Since I posted the results on Monday, e-mail response has been split between those who are aghast that Newman's "weakest" record should be the one that takes the top prize, and those who want to tell me that I was way too hard on the NPs in my write-up. Elsewhere, Ben Krieger continued the time-honored tradition of self-flagellation in this category by voting for one of his own projects, and several Jersey cats who just cannot let it rest took a few more swings at Interpol -- even though those guys spent most of the year recovering from the lousy pub and the Carlos D-herpes weblog entries. A better answer came from Margaret Miller, whose biggest disappointment was "getting to the end of 'Diamonds' and realizing that Kanye's really not going to give back his chain." See, that just wouldn't be in a black person's soul.

Worst Song Of The Year

"Next year", joked Jeff Ciprioni, "you should name this category the 'My Humps' Memorial Worst Song Of The Year Award." In fairness, not everybody voted for "My Humps" -- but 25 mentions out of 128 ballots is a pretty dramatic expression of disgust. I mean, it's a big world of music; there ought to be more than one crappy song in it. Other widely-pilloried tracks: "Dontcha" by the Pussycat Dolls, and the abysmal "Beverly Hills" by Weezer. Paula Carino chose not to vote in this category -- "I'm not a hater", she wrote. I know you're not, Paula.

Best singer

No consensus here. Critics Poll voters usually go mad for Britt Daniel's voice, but even those who voted for Gimme Fiction -- and there were plenty of you -- chose to tap a different singer this year. Votes were scattered among fey-voiced indie boys (Joe Pernice, Jens Lekman, Sam Prekop) and over-the-top commerical radio girls (Keyshia Cole, Kelly Clarkson, Mariah Carey). And Fiona Apple too; I'm not really sure what she is. I was pleased to see Sinead O'Connor's name on ballots this year, and not because I'm keen on bringing '88 back: that version of "Downpressor Man" on Throw Down Your Arms is just scalding. Surprisingly, there was only one vote for Will Sheff, and it came from this house, where hearing Will Sheff shreik out his lungs is something of a daily occurrence. I guess we're not giving As for effort this year.

Best rapper

Kanye West, for the second year running. I'm aware that a consensus has developed among hip-hop heads that West isn't a good emcee. Now, I have been listening to rap music since I was prepubescent. Rap has always been my favorite genre, and while the mirror informs me every morning that I am a nerdy white guy with no real relationship to hip-hop culture, nobody can tell me that I don't dig these records and play them to death. Moreover, my taste in emcees is not particularly idiosyncratic: while my favorite rock and roll singers are people like Jesse Fuchs and Rachel Warren and other freaks, my favorite emcees are Nas and Ghostface and Lil Wayne; folks like that. So when I say that I have no idea why my peers consider Kanye West a bad bet on the mic, I'm not speaking as a Johnny-come-lately with one infrequently-spun Roots album on my shelf. He doesn't blow me away or anything, but he certainly strikes me as better than average, and a good bit more communicative than many of the critical favorites. I believe it's just a prejudice against producer-rappers: the same one that prevents Mannie Fresh from getting his props, and that allows journalists who've never bothered to listen to The Chronic 2001 to reprint the absurd fiction that Dre isn't a good emcee. We don't like it when people are good at too many things, see; if you're talented in one area, your audience will bend over backward to insist there's something else important you can't do. It's part of a strange zero-sum notion of human character, one we can't seem to shake. Of course, if you sell a zillion records and then walk around all day proclaiming yourself the G.O.A.T., you're going to feel some backlash. Some of that Haterate on your sweatshirt is your own doing, 'Ye.

I think I mentioned on Monday that Jonathan Andrew voted for hard rhymer Craig Finn.

Song That Got Stuck In Your Head The Most

A few of you poor bastards voted for "My Humps". That is why God put a dial on the radio -- so you can change the channel before such dreadful things happen. "Since U Been Gone" got some votes, as did "Mr. Brightside"; Dakkan Abbe and a couple of others selected the radioactively catchy "The Party's Crashing Us" from The Sunlandic Twins. The New Pornographers invariably do well in this category, but this year, there was no clear favorite among the Twin Cinema tracks: "Sing Me Spanish Techno", "These Are The Fables", "The Bleeding Heart Show", and the title track all drew support. The most painfully honest answer came from Matt Houser, who moved five times in '05: he voted for the "WKRP In Cincinnati" theme song. "Got tired of the packing and unpacking...."

Artist You Don't Know, But You Know You Should

"It's been my experience lately", reports Jens Carstensen, "that every time I should know an artist, it's merely so I can say how overrated they are." Among those who cared to vote, Antony & The Johnsons took this category, with Animal Collective coming in second. Jens, let me save you the trouble.

Album That Wore Out The Fastest

Last year, Franz Ferdinand's debut scored 223 points in the poll, appearing on more ballots than any other album but the Arcade Fire. In 2005, You Could Have It So Much Better, the follow up, showed up on one top-ten list. Franz Ferdinand followed a fifth-place finish in Critics Poll '04 with a sophomore effort that barely registered. This is very unusual: generally, when a band does well on the Critics Poll one year, it's a lead-pipe cinch they'll repeat the achievement, no matter how disappointed voters are in their follow-up albums. Hey, I forgot about them, too; I didn't even bother to write about them in this year's Abstract. There's something about this group that doesn't stick -- and in 2005, theirs was the record that felt the thinnest, even to those voters who bothered to recognize it at all. Dishonorable mention: Beck's Guero. At least that one got some love in the poll.

Album That Felt Most Like An Obligation To Get Through

This category used to be a place to show some backhanded love to an O.G. who you're determined to work with, even if they'd wandered off the reservation; i.e., Roger Waters puts out a new rock opera about wheat prices in Bulgaria, and of course the next day you're there with your headphones on, trying your best to riddle through it. In recent years, however, voters have felt obliged to respond to pervasive Internet hype. This year's ballots came in with names like Devendra Banhart, Sufjan Stevens, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Okkervil River -- favorites of many webloggers, sure, but hardly acts that have built track records that justify faith. It's testament to just how powerful the indie marketing machine has become that we now expect emotional payoffs from bands we've barely heard, and we're capable of feeling inadequate if we haven't yet picked up on whatever the Gothamist happens to be flogging this week. At any sane moment (and 2005 was anything but a sane moment) we'd have taken these sorts of culture-industry shill jobs as an invitation for skepticism. Anyway. Matt Hyams winkingly (and cryptically) answered "certain local bands", and as if in response, David Nagler voted for his own album. Yes, David, I know how that feels.

Song That Would Drive You Craziest on Infinite Repeat

All together now: "get you love drunk off my hump/ my hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps". I know I wouldn't last more than forty-five minutes before all twelve of my IQ points were siphoned out of my brain. Also mentioned: Juelz Santana's insidious "Whistle Song", anything by the Decemberists, and "Hollaback Girl". The infamous "bananas" section is enough to drive anybody... well....

Most Overrated

George Pasles may have voted for Picasso, and Zach Lipez may have astutely called out "anyone who is referred to as a 'pop genius', but isn't actually popular." But it was Sufjan Stevens, in a walk. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah drew some catcalls, too. You could chalk this up to the Critics Poll voters' well-known antipathy to the latest and hottest from New York City (and all phony-midwestern shtick aside, Stevens is very much a New York artist). Nevertheless, I was worried that history was about to repeat, and that Illinois was poised to take the poll just as Arcade Fire had in 2004. But this year, Critics Poll voters smelled a rat, and that rat was Pitchfork.

Hoary Old Bastard Who Should Spare Us All And Retire

And Pitchfork got more than one vote in this category; further evidence that after the defeat-addled delirium that was '04, our voters have wised up. Marisha Chinsky opted for Donald Trump, which would be awfully nice; Brian Block tentatively ventured Paul McCartney's name before confessing "I wish it hadn't crossed my mind to say 'Jeff Tweedy', even for a second." Other H.O.B.s of note: Eminem, Madonna, Neil Diamond, The Rolling Stones. Of course Rod Stewart got his votes, as usual.

Young Upstart Who Should Be Sent Down To The Minors For More Seasoning

M.I.A., and there wasn't anybody close. I repeat: in 2005, Critics Poll voters smelled a rat, and that rat was Pitchfork.

Trends for 2006 (in your words)

Mike Doktorski: Reggaeton.

Stephen Mejias: Reggaeton. Yeah, reggaeton is going to take over. (Here's hoping).

Noam Levy: Poorly-written pop music marketed to yuppie hipsters as indie rock. (That was this year, and the year before that, and the year before that...)

Jonathan Andrew: All four major labels concede all marketing to MySpace in defeat.

Ilana Mayor: The iFlea.

Mike Cimicata: All you need are looks and a whole lot of money.

Michael Liska: Philadelphia noise/grind collectives.

Margaret Miller: Albums recorded from jail. (if only C-Murder's record had sold, I might even believe this.)

Paula Carino: Country-music artists' spoken-word intros to tracks -- weird!

Martin McClellan: Uber-emo, a la Antony and Devendra, meets phat analog synths a la 80s tender new wave for electronics that feel deeply.

Angie Delgado: Reggaeton.

Zach Lipez: I dunno, but I really wish the whole girls-overly-spitting-on-cocks-in-porn-and-real-life thing would come to an end. 2005 was bananas with it, and I'm not sure if it was life imitating art, or vice versa, but either way Burning Angel has a lot to answer for. I'm not fucking kidding or trying to be cute. For some reason, that shit was this season's Capri. Ask anybody.

Jesse Wright: Just after weight-loss and outright ignoring values of roots and folk conscience, I'd say forgetting that people are dying in a war.

Jay Dodds: The return of the Roland ax.

Jon Robb: The Sufjan Stevens vocal style takes over. Pansy is the new loud.

Lorelei Russ: Lady Sovereign. (That's a good bet, Lorelei.)

Brian Block: A nostalgiac revival of early nu-metal, accidentally intermingled so completely into current nu-metal that critics take months to catch on.

Steve Carlson: Following the success of Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine, the new rage will be releasing long-delayed albums. Arista will finally let out Q-Tip's Kamaal The Abstract to critical acclaim and commercial indifference, thereby justifying why they kept it on the shelf in the first place. After an escalating and increasingly public feud, Nellie MacKaye will successfully wrest control of Pretty Little Head and release it independently; freed of major label constraint, she will make it three discs long and re-title it Leather. Finally, Axl Rose will stop tinkering and release Chinese Democracy onto an unsuspecting world, only to have that world tell him they no longer give a shit about him.

Robin Marie van Maarth: Smarty-pants music. Lots of notes, lots of chops, lots of thinking. John Fahey and Leo Kottke-esque type music. Bleh.

Oliver Lyons: Music will be over.

Additional comments and assorted venting

Robin Borst: Best show of the year -- TrisDuster! (thanks, Robin).

Jeffrey Norman: "My Humps" was the most unsexy attempt at sexiness ever. I'd be more turned on by Bill O' Reilly naked.

El Rey: I must thank you. Due to your poll, and your kind request for my contribution therein, I have scientifically been able to determine when old age sets in. This year, thanks to infirmities and life concerns, I listened to NO new music. Nothing. I read about music a little, and would recognize band and artist names, but I neither sought out or was exposed to anything new. The petrification of my musical tastes is complete! I have entered a new phase of life. And I have you to thank for helping me pinpoint when that happened and mark this passage. You kids have fun with your crazy jungle racket. I'll be on the porch with my 78s.

David Urbano: Hottest 37 year old singer? Juliana Hatfield. (take it up with Glenn McDonald, David.)

Tom Snow: Worst instrumental performance -- Meg White. I had always been able to look beyond her lack of chops, but the delta between Jack's ambitions and her ability to execute is becoming untenable.

Tom Snow: Even though it's great, Twin Cinema felt a little long for some reason. Maybe it's because it's so dense. One thing those Canadian bands seem to have in common its their noisiness. Where do they get that energy? Maybe it's the socialized medicine.

Jeff Ciprioni: This is the year of no such thing as a guilty pleasure. Killers, I stand up next to your "Mr. Brightside" in all its Beethoven-biting glory.

Jim Testa: Best synthesizer playing -- J and Justin of the Negatones. (but what about Jun?)

Milton: Will the album format survive beides for home-owning bald men paying 25 bucks for the new Bonnie Raitt CD after catching the show at The Beacon?

Bill Chappell: Most welcome surprise -- Palomar's "Whoa!". A move toward a noiser sound I look forward to on Palomar IV.

Steve Carlson: As a movie buff, one of my hard and fast rules is that the only thing worse than bad drama is bad comedy. Weezer did their best to sabotage the release of Make Believe by making the po-faced thudder "We Are All on Drugs" the first single, but bands do stupid stuff like that all the time. What I don't understand is following that up with the even worse "Beverly Hills", which is like a joke without a punchline. Or maybe the punchline is that this grueling thing ended up the most inescapable Weezer song since "Buddy Holly", which just goes to show -- they really ARE that dumb in the O.C.

Jens Carstensen: I was listening to a CD by a guy named Johnny Guitar Watson. 50s guitar stuff. He has a song about encountering a grizzly bear in the woods. Naturally, at each chorus, the bear began rockin rockin and a-rollin A bear! Not long after i listened to a box set of 70s punk Ii won at the Act Local benefit, and "Human Fly" by the Cramps came on. In that, as you probably know, the Human Fly is spelled F-L-Y and he goes bzz-bzz-bzz, and that s just because. So, make note here of two distinct eras of short, funny, non-sense-based songs: one lasting from the mid-50s until at least the early 60s, starting to die with the advent of the Beatles and gone completely by Woodstock. This would lie dormant until the advent of punk, of course (save a coupla Stooges records), and continue up until about Bleach, ironically one of the last great bastions of short, to-the-point rock songs about whatever. Then Nirvana blew up, and, for the 14th straight year, rock music, music, has been no fun at all. Indie rock is the new prog, and I'm just as bored as Joey Ramone claims he was in 1974, and I have been for at least 5 years now. I don t need songs about dancing bears or human flies, no, I just need someone who isn't so keen on taking themselves so seriously, yet also isn't playing themselves for laughs, yet also isn't trying to sound smarter than everyone else. I defy you to name one person doing this that I don't already know personally.

Pat Pierson: All I want is good music. I wish good soul/R&B would return a la Tony Toni Tone, PM Dawn, Jamie Hawkins, Res, Amber Sunshower.... Eric Carmen (w/ Raspberries) truly was the most impressive rock singer I've seen in years. He erased all of his solo career sins in one fell swoop by doing "I Don't Know What I Want" at BB Kings which basically blew the walls apart. And from such a small dude -- insane. And that actually followed "Ecstasy". Hard to imagine a 56 year-old guy screaming like Daltrey in his prime, but there he was -- HOLDING TRUE to his Mod roots.

Jeffrey Jotz: Your 2005 PMA heaps far too much praise on corporate rappers. They're like the O'Reilly Report: edgy, but not for the sake of being edgy; only to drive up ratings and rake in more dough from gullible rubes.

Martin McClellan: Tris, I am with you about not understanding what the hell Carl Newman is getting at. I guess the difference between us is that it doesn't bother me.

Ben Krieger: With the amount of music becoming increasingly available, there is no reason that top 10 lists should look so similar. The best-of lists in music magazines from Rolling Stone to Magnet all looked pathetically bland this year.

Marisol Fuentes: Biggest disappoitment -- the Internet. (boy, do I feel you there.)

*************

Tune in to streamable Radio WJFF tonight between the hours of 10 and midnight to catch Brad Krumholz, a poll voter since '88, doing a Critics Poll show special. It's part of that National Public Radio thing that I don't understand.

 

Check out last year's miscellany:

Two days ago, I posted the album results:

Yesterday, I posted the singles results:

Tomorrow, I post the answer key, AKA my own picks:

On Friday, everybody gets their grades back. Just kidding. No, we go behind the numbers:

 

Critics poll winners over the years:

 

You send me e-mail when I'm in need. Oh, I'm a triflin' clamdigger indeed.