The Top 100 Songs of 2011 -- #93: "Junior Dad" -- Lou Reed/Metallica

What the fuck can be said about this project that hasn't been said or written already? Seriously, I'm just going to be rehashing either my own opinions or opinions of others at this point.

Lulu was simply the most interesting record of 2011. Not the best, not the worst -- nothing to do with quality. Its mere existence was reason enough to pay attention, and the end result -- beginning with the release of "The View" in September -- was chock-full of things to talk and write about. If there was any album in 2011 about which someone could write an essay, or even a dissertation, it was this. And maybe Gaga's Born This Way.

It's always tough reviewing music, because if you take a given song, you're always bound to have mixed opinions. Plenty may not enjoy that song, but there's certain to be someone out there who finds it the best thing ever. Such was the case of this album. Despite being panned by a number of critics, there was always those select few voices who called it something much better, and you subsequently begin to question your own opinion. Maybe you're not looking deep enough into the music enough. Maybe there's a level to the songs that you haven't quite reached.

But you know what? Fuck it. I don't care. This album sucks.

Despite this, there were some bright spots, as one might expect. After all, this is still an album created by two of the most well-respected entities in rock history. You don't rise to prominence without having some sort of talent in your bones. This is most evident on Lulu's closing track, "Junior Dad."



Much of the album is at least in some part meditative, or at least it seems that way for Reed. But "Junior Dad" is the best such example, not only for Reed but for the listener as well. At nearly 20 minutes, "Junior Dad" is sprawling, but cohesive. Metallica doesn't go all out on this one, decreasing to their most reserved as they back Reed's meandering vocals.

Reed doesn't overpower Metallica, and Metallica doesn't upstage Reed. One vastly standing out over the other (bear in mind that 'standing out' in this case does not necessarily mean anything good) is an issue the rest of the album struggles with, and Reed and Metallica can scarcely melt together to form a cohesive group. You want collaborations to be seen and heard as one entity formed by two-or-more different, separate entities, not a hodge-podge of whoever can stand out the most.

What "Junior Dad" does is the opposite. In it, Reed and Metallica mesh together beautifully (and at long last -- the song is the last on the album), Metallica creating a solemn score to Reed's spoken-word.

Lulu is one of those albums you should actually listen to the entire way through in order to gain your own understanding of the piece, but if you're pressed for time and need just one song, it's this. It's a symbol of what the album could have been -- introspective, cohesive, and beautiful.

The Top 100 Songs of 2011 -- #94: "Sick of You" -- Cake

Cake has always been an enigma of a band. A rock band, with simplistic instrumentation, trumpet and those random percussion noises that you can't quite pinpoint but can identify as classic Cake. Add in John McCrea's often-monotonous vocals, and one might think you have a recipe for one or two big hits at best -- if that.

But Cake has proved time and time again that their alt-rock relevance is nothing to be scoffed at. That said, the mid- to late-2000s was a quiet era for the band, with no studio albums released since 2004. The band returned in 2011 with a new album, Showroom of Compassion, and not only did it exceed expectations simply by being released, but it also shocked quite a few people when it landed at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart.

"Sick of You" was the first single from that album, and it's classic Cake. Semi-spoken-word vocals from McCrea, the most basic-yet-endearing bassline from Gabe Nelson, the bursts of Vince DiFiore's trumpet, and shouted group vocals from the rest of the band.

There's actually not much else to say about the song -- its allure is simple. It's an embodiment of Cake that we've all come to know and love. It was a return to form for a band that many hold dear to their hearts, and to see them back on the charts -- including on top of them -- was incredibly rewarding.

Oh, and check out the video for the song. It's fairly nonsensical, but I think we've all come to expect that from McCrea and Co. at this point.

The Top 100 Songs of 2011 -- #95: "Don't Fuck With My Money" -- Penguin Prison

If there's anything the last few years has really brought about in indie music, it's a resurgence of '80s-oriented electropop jams -- for better or for worse. This trend has been particularly noticeable while working as part of a college rock radio station. We get quite a few albums a week for consideration to be put into our rotation, and for whatever reason, this genre has seen a marked revival.

Some of this -- actually, far too much of this -- falls into a genre known as "chillwave." I'm not going to go too much further into this, as this song in particular is not of this particular disposition. Just know that it's kind of the new thing to do these days, and it can be difficult to weed through the not-so-stellar material.

One week, while we were wading through quite a bit of this... stuff, one song caught my ear. It's also of an electronic nature, but more so on the dance-pop level. It comes from Penguin Prison, the brainchild of New York's Chris Glover. The song? The oh-so-subtly-named "Don't Fuck With My Money."

If this song doesn't make you want to dance, I'm not quite sure what will. Deliciously upbeat, gloriously catchy, and delightfully profane, the song is a formidable period piece and a foreboding example of an artist who may one day garner an increased amount of attention.

The music video provides an added depth to the otherwise-upbeat song. Glover journeyed to the Occupy Wall Street movement in New York City to shoot the video, and it's well worth a watch.



Don't stop here -- check out the entire record Penguin Prison put out in 2011, if you like what you hear. When it comes to chilled-out dance-pop tunes with a foot in the glorious (?) past, you can't go wrong with Chris Glover and Penguin Prison.

The Top 100 Songs of 2011 -- #96: "Sunset in July" - 311

After the unexpected success of their cover of The Cure's "Love Song," it seemed as though 311 had reached their peak. Following the single's release in 2004, the Omaha rock-reggae act had a string of low-selling albums and subpar singles, and the five-piece looked down for the count for good.

2011 saw the band release Universal Pulse, their first record in two years. In June, 311 released the lead single from that album, "Sunset in July."

It was a return to form for the late-'90s stars. It embodies the chilled-out vibe the band has always oozed, slightly updated for the new decade.



And it's one of the best summer songs anyone could ask for this year. We always look for those songs that will be in our heads and on the radio all summer long (this year: "Party Rock Anthem," anyone?), and when it came to rock radio, "Sunset in July" was a fitting nominee. Even the name itself implies a summer-y feel. You can't get much better than that.

It's winter now, and songs like this have long passed their expiration date. But, perhaps you'll be stuck in the dead of winter in a month or so, hating the cold and longing for greener pastures. Should that feeling come about, pop in this song -- and let the memory of sunshine and carefree days wash over you.

Review: Childish Gambino - "Camp"

This review was originally sent to a music website as a sample review. Figured I'd post it so that it sees the light of day, or something.

Everyone, just forget about Community. No, really. Work with me here.

Whatever the NBC comedy's as-of-yet uncertain fate, actor/scene-stealer Donald Glover is going to be just fine -- after all, at least he has his rap career.

Glover has tendered a number of releases over the past three years as Childish Gambino, and with Camp, artistic respect is imminent. Touted previously by many simply as an actor who could also rap and nothing more ("Oh, he can rap too? That's cute..."), Gambino showcases a penchant for smart, rich lyrics and commendable production. Camp isn't the NYU grad's 15 minutes of fame in the music world. It's his coming-out party. And he has a lot to say.

On the surface, Gambino might seem a Drake knock-off, another pop-leaning rapper who can kiiiinda sing -- never mind the fact that both have a similar path to musical stardom. But where Drake relies on a plethora of guest spots and at times gives in to cliched lyricism, Gambino excels by being the opposite. Camp is all Gambino all the time (a rarity in today's rap sphere), and very rarely does the rapper rhyme about overused themes such as monetary excess, club life and the exact same love stories we've heard a thousand times over.

Album opener "Outside" establishes Gambino as an underdog from the very beginning. "I used to dream every night, now I never dream at all / Hopin' that it's cause I'm livin' everything I want," he begins, with a choral-esque group vocal and bombastic percussion playing the supporting role. He proceeds to detail his childhood, a tough one by all accounts -- with one-bedroom apartments, trying to move up from the projects and alienation from one's peers as a result. It's a letter to his cousin, too, as well as a plea to the black community as a whole: "The world sayin' what you are because you’re young and black / Don’t believe ‘em."

Gambino is a comedian at heart, and at times his lyrics approach that playful nature the actor exudes in interviews and on Community. But the 28-year-old excels when the focus is less on humor and more on social commentary -- even though the two intertwine at times. On "Hold Me Down," Gambino muses about "Culture shock at barber shops cause I ain't hood enough / We all look the same to the cops, ain't that good enough?" "White kids get to wear whatever hat they want," he rhymes seconds later. "When it comes to black kids one size fits all." It's a song of perceptions society holds and the trouble with continuing to hold these notions. And no one is safe -- "Dude you're not not racist cause The Wire's in your Netflix queue," he spits.

Though some songs are reminiscent of earlier, more-DIY Gambino, others feature sleeker production, a sign of the rapper's ascent into the mainstream. "Sunrise," with its jaunty tempo, synth-heavy instrumentation and sunny chorus vocals, is reminiscent of early k-os's indie-esque production, while "All the Shine" features serene orchestral elements beneath Gambino's abrasive, tell-tale lyrics. And "You See Me" is pure dumb fun -- perhaps the purest, dumbest fun in hip-hop this year this side of Das Racist. Janelle Monae has "the funkiest horn section in Metropolis"? Gambino has the brashest. Oh, and asian girls. Everywhere.

And then there's "Heartbeat," album centerpiece and the song most likely to break out in a big way on Top 40 radio. Following a Drake-esque hook at its onset, Gambino unleashes spitfire verses over not-quite-but-almost-dubstep backing. Just listen to the edge in Gambino's vocal rise as each verse goes on. One of the most important aspects of rap is keeping the listener's interest kindled, and this is the kind of vocal that does just that.

Camp's shortcomings partially stem from Gambino's occasional tendency to go into showboating overdrive -- to the point where he goes overboard. And because of this, the album's inherent messages of social struggles and reform suffer. Plenty of listeners were unable to catch on to Watch the Throne's social commentary on first listen because it merely sounded as though Kanye and Izzo were boasting about their excess. While Camp doesn't suffer from the same exact issues, taking Gambino completely seriously is still proving to be a tough task. Perhaps it's his diction, his joking, the fact that he's a comedian/actor first and foremost.

Nonetheless, Camp establishes Childish Gambino as a prevalent force in modern rap. He's not only a lyrical wordsmith -- perhaps the best rap has heard since Kanye. What adds to Gambino's appeal is his ability to bring to the forefront various issues that he faces every day. When his rap career first surfaced, it was evident that Donald Glover was no one-trick pony. With Camp, he becomes the newest dark horse for distinction among the world's most important rappers.


4.5/5

The Top 100 Songs of 2011 -- #97: "We All Go Back to Where We Belong" - R.E.M.

Before we begin, let's be real -- R.E.M. will be back together for a reunion tour within two years, and another record will come out eventually. This is not the end of R.E.M. as we know it, not just yet.

But that is what was announced in September. After over 30 years as a band, Michael Stipe and Co. have gone their separate ways, releasing this kiss-off as a song to complete the R.E.M. story.

"We All Go Back to Where We Belong" is among the most poignant of R.E.M.'s releases -- a tall order, of course, given the band's longevity. Perhaps it's the knowledge that the band has disbanded, coupled with the wistful farewell lyrics, that creates this feel, or maybe it's the pleasant strings which waft in and out of the low-tempo tune.

"Is this really what you want?" asks Stipe over easygoing guitar and occasional trumpet. The answer to this may be widely disputed among fans, but you have to hand it to R.E.M. for going out this way, with all members seemingly on good terms with one another.



Either way, the song is a triumph, and perhaps one of the most fitting codas any band has given itself. To think that this may be the last time we hear Stipe's retrospective lyrics and Peter Buck's unmistakable guitar timbre together is a strange thought indeed. This is a band many grew up with, mainly college students, over quite a few generations. College rock as we know it may not be the same without them.

The Top 100 Songs of 2011 - #98: "We Are Young" - fun. feat. Janelle Monae

New York indie pop act fun. has been hard at work on upcoming record Some Nights, set to be released in February, since the beginning of 2011. Quite a few songs have already been tested out at the band's live shows, with one in particular seeing a single release in September. That song is known as "We Are Young," and it lands at No. 98 on this countdown.

"We Are Young" is, as might be inferred by its title, a song of youth. fun. has always been able to capture the feeling of reckless youth, with a pop sensibility that is unusual to say the least, ever since first record Aim and Ignite. Their new material continues this aesthetic. fun. hasn't changed much with their new stuff, but given that they're such a unique band anyway, this can certainly be overlooked.

The song features rising neo-soul star Janelle Monae, albeit in a minimal role. The two acts toured together on this fall's Campus Consciousness Tour (a great show, in case you were wondering!), which probably explains the odd-yet-endearing collaboration. Listen for Monae during the tune's bridge, her singsong vocal adding a sweet disposition to the anthemic track.



The chorus is both the song's inherent strength and weakness, if that makes any sense at all. While the optimistic melody rises the song to anthem status, the song's tempo is cut almost in half when it comes to this chorus. It's a change of pace, something we've grown to expect with fun., but it's not necessarily a good thing in this case.

All told, "We Are Young" is one of those songs that is great on its own, but you can't help but feel has untapped potential. All the elements are there, but there's something -- something minimal in this case -- missing.

That said, you'll be hard-pressed to find a song that better embodies youthful bliss. "Tonight / We are young /" sings frontman Nate Ruess. "So let's set the world on fire / We can burn brighter than the sun." By the time the song ends, young and old alike are left pining for the glory days of yore.