Joshua Malbin

Over at Come In Threes, America’s Favorite Kiwi B-Diddy Disco passed on a request from the Dan Schwartz Blog for contributors’ favorite albums of the decade.

I peered into my iTunes stats, wandered over to my CD shelves in the other room, and put together this list:

Top Tier:

Aimee Mann, Bachelor No. 2 (2000)
The National, Alligator (2005)
Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002)

Next Tier:

Mika, Life In Cartoon Motion (2007)
Brendan Benson, The Alternative To Love (2005)
Regina Spektor, Begin To Hope (2006)
The New Pornographers, Electric Version (2003)
The Weakerthans, Reconstruction Site (2003)
Josh Rouse, 1972 (2003)
Jenny Toomey, Tempting (2002)
Elliot Smith, Figure 8 (2000)

Obviously, this is no attempt at a definitive list. This list comprises soundtracks for love busy being born or busy dying and sounds that inspired me to sit down and figure out the chord changes or write new songs.

I remember the context in which I came to each. I first read about Aimee Mann, Josh Rouse, The New Pornographers, Mika, and The Weakerthans in reviews online. Todd at Sea Level Records (RIP) played Brendan Benson for me in the store, knowing my tastes. The National was urged on me by a friend who co-ran their label. Wilco was in heavy rotation on a portable CD player at the lake house as we recovered from a terrible party. Jenny Toomey, a record club among friends. Regina Spektor, burned to CD by my ex’s friend. Elliot Smith, “Baby Britain” on KCRW — I remember changing from the 110 to the 10, the Convention Center in view, as the quarter-note piano chords came on and picked up drums and bass.

I didn’t own an iPod until 2006, and I tended to load playlists instead of whole albums. Most of these I bought, on disc, in stores, and got into by leaving them in my car CD player. Mika is the only one that I never owned in physical form, and it’s the only work of music that I’ve gotten into as an album since I went (mostly) download.

It seems the case that I fall in love with music less now that it’s weightless and free. (I’ve started paying for downloads again in the form of a subscription to emusic and occasional purchases from Amazon. It works out to about 40 cents a track.  I’ll still torrent big sellers that I can’t find at emusic, and I sample liberally via the hype machine and other music blogs and friends’ mixes.) A physical boundary — one artist on a disc, the disc has to be in the car — helped me form a relationship with an artist. Sorting the wheat from the chaff of a given album helped me know what I loved as compared to just liked. It took more time and covered less ground, but it meant more to me.

I haven’t figured out what music means in my life now, but I’m pretty certain technology has changed it significantly. And while I’m prone to nostalgia, I don’t think it recommends (or will influence) any policy position.

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