More great words invented by 4th graders in Ohio:

� shareful adj. Usage: Monica was extremely shareful today at work. I was nodding off at my desk and she gave me some speed.

� shotted v, past tense. Usage: President Kennedy was enjoying a ride in his convertible when a mean person shotted him.

� oftenly adv. Usage: I have fewer accidents these days, but when I was young I would wet the bed oftenly.

� kindful adj. Usage: I used to be afraid of Mister Hackenlimbs, but once I got to know him I realized he's the most kindful person I know.

Those kids are so thinkative.

The other day, Pitchfork had a job posted for news editor. All one had to do was send them 1) a r�sum�, 2) four news items culled from other sources and "edited" using Pitchfork's too-clever tagline format, and 3) a list of the top ten best albums of the year thusfar. This is how goal-oriented I am: I spent my day at work mentally compiling and revising my top ten list, and vowed to apply for the position as soon as I got home. Well, as soon as I got home the ad had been yanked, presumably because they were no longer taking applications. But now I had my lame top ten list and nothing to do with it.

Nothing, that is, except post it to this forum, where no one will read it, but hey, at least I found a good way to kill a few hours on All Hallow's Eve. In compiling my list, I found that I haven't actually bought and/or heard a great many albums that were released in 2002. Does this mean I'm not the avid, discriminating consumer of music I once was? Am I getting older? Will I soon be the middle-aged man whose only consumption of music entails periodic stops into Tower Records every few weeks to see if they have that new Beck album all the kids are talking about? That's a somewhat scary thought. No, I listened to just as much music in 2002 as I did the previous twenty-five years of my life. Maybe I just bought fewer albums. Maybe I took some of the time and energy I'd use to buy new CDs and diverted it towards downloading silly 80s music and hip-hop on LimeWire. Illegal, yes, but cost-effective.

Nevertheless, I managed to scrape together ten entries. I've generated these lists in previous years, and I've learned there are a few rules with which other listmakers may be familiar. The first is that I have "safety" bands; i.e., if a certain band releases an album that year, it will almost certainly end up on my top-ten list, regardless of its relative quality. I have favorite artists who can do no wrong, or a least next-to-no wrong (I never claimed objectivity here). I am not blind to a lackluster performance on the part of one of my pet artists: I recognize that the new Duncan Sheik or Cornershop is not as consistent or interesting as their previous releases; the snarky world of music criticism is in almost universal agreement with me on those points. That said, there will not be a year when Underworld or Dismemberment Plan or Saint Etienne or David Byrne release an album that does not end up on my top ten list. This fact and the fact that, looking over previous journal entries, I seem to be talking about the same dozen or so bands in punishing repetition, makes me think that maybe my musical taste is not as broad or varied as I previously thought. But then I realize that no, I just tend to talk about my favorite bands more often. I have six hundred CDs, but only ten or so "favorites," so of course you're going to hear about that two percent more often than the other ninety-eight. We humans have a limited capacity to absorb and process stimuli; I can only listen to so many songs in a year. I'm economically limited, too, so I can only purchase a precious few CDs a year (though my mother, and most sane people, would argue that thirty or forty CDs a year is more than "a few," my brother and my friends and all other normal, cool people would realize it's not). And thank god�I've found that when I do have a surfeit of disposable income (and given my spending habits, just about any income is disposable), I tend to buy way more CDs than I need, not all of them good. I've ended up with some real stinkers as a result of indiscriminate collecting. I have gotten wiser during my ten-plus years of compact disc shopping; I don't throw my money away nearly as often as I used to (or as much as I nearly should: there are a lot of "essential" albums I've never gotten around to buying).

But enough recursive self-analysis. The second major rule I've discovered is that, no matter how hard I may try, I'm going to end up putting some real safe, no-brainer, universally accepted "top ten" albums on my top ten list. Just as two years ago I couldn't help agreeing that Kid A was brilliant, this year I was unable to keep Sea Change off my list. It makes me feel lame, it makes me feel like a sheep, but at the same time, it's somewhat comforting to know that there's some near-objectivity to such a subjective practice. Maybe that's why music magazines insist on the highly subjective and often irrelevant tradition of top-ten (or twenty, or fifty, or one hundred) albums-of-the-year (or the decade, or of all time): because we find we (almost) all agree on certain things, and it reinforces whatever vague concept of artistic excellence we've internalized. At the end of the day, no matter what happens, no matter who's in office, there's always the Beatles, there's always going to be Nevermind, there's always going to be Houses Of The Holy�artistic artifacts that are virtually bulletproof.

That may not be necessarily true of any of the entries on my list here, though it looks like a couple may be headed in that direction. And if we're truly lucky, a handful of these will get bumped before the new year, by albums yet to come:

1. Underworld: A Hundred Days Off�Really, this was no contest. I was a little worried when I heard that Darren Emerson had quit the band, but they've still got it. My first experience listening to this was similar to 1998's Beacoup Fish: as each new song began, I would whoop silently and throw my hands in the air in celebration (usually in the car, which means my knees would have to briefly take over steering wheel duties�sorry, fellow motorists), because each song was immediately, clearly, excellent. There was no waiting for the wonder to begin. Favorite tracks: "Momove", "Sola Sistim", "Little Speaker". But they're all good, and I actually mean that.

2. Neil Finn: One All�Released as One Nil overseas last year, but I think One All counts for 2002 because two songs are different, and it was remastered, and it wasn't available stateside except to those fools (myself included) who wanted to shell out $30 for the import. (Foolish fools.) Neil Finn is virtually infallible when it comes to pop songwriting. I am a rare specimen in that I discovered Neil Finn via himself, rather than via Split Enz or Crowded House, which is how many (older) fans discovered him. To be honest, I'm not even that familiar with his two old bands, though I've liked everything I've heard. (It's sad that many members of my generation are surprised that Crowded House were more than a One-Hit ["Don't Dream It's Over"] Wonder.) Anyway, this album is impeccable. He teamed up with Wendy & Lisa (you might remember them from Prince's entourage), who happen to be multi-instrumentalists and terrific songwriters. Produced by Mitchell Froom and Tchad Blake, of Soul Coughing fame. Favorite tracks: "Rest Of The Day Off", "Hole In The Ice", "Into The Sunset".

3. Saint Etienne: Finisterre�Really, what is one supposed to think of an album whose title means "end of the world"? Saint Etienne's story is one of amazing perseverence: There's got to be a law somewhere stating that English dance bands cannot exist longer than five years or three albums, but St E have done both, twice over. They are seemingly indestructible. They are what Morcheeba, Sneaker Pimps, One Dove, Hooverphonic, and Lamb wish they could be. This album is a return to form after a dubious departure from formula on 2000's Sound Of Water, which I will admit was a disappointment. (Again, the critical community is almost unanimous on that. What a bunch of wankers. Can't my thumbs down ever break from the ranks?) Sticking to formula would spell disaster for most artists, but it allows St E to mine their seemingly bottomless reserves of pop recipes while innovating in subtler ways. A stripped-down, almost sinister sound is present throughout Finisterre. A lot of the synths are analog, and dirty. "New Thing" is a prime example, and is perhaps my favorite track. I won't deny that when Sarah Cracknell coos, "You've got me where you waaaant me," it's one of the sexiest things I've heard since the Cardigans.

4. Spoon: Kill The Moonlight�I fell in love with Spoon two years ago when I heard Girls Can Tell, specifically the opener "Everything Hits At Once," which is such a good song even Spin referenced it as an irresistable pop masterpiece, long before other mainstream publications began featuring the band. They've truly broken with this album (though they deserved to break with the last album, but whatever). I saw them play at Gabe's a couple months ago, and it was incredible, even if this girl I knew in the front row was totally flirting with Britt Daniel the whole time. How can you not love a band whose drummer's last name is Eno (and who, coincidentally, oversees recording in his home studio) and admits to having the hum of their window air conditioner appearing on a professional recording? How can you hate a band whose lead singer pronounces the lyric "car radio" as "karate-o?" My favorite track is probably "Everything Hits At Once." Oh, wait�that doesn't count, doesn't it. Okay: "Paper Tigers", "Stay Don't Go", "Someone Something", "Back To The Life".

5. Beck: Sea Change�Here it begins, the first in a trio of heavy hitters that will be on most everyone's list. Some people may wonder what the hell they're doing here in the middle of the list, instead of the top. Hey, it's enough that I like them; I'm breaking from the pack by liking them not quite as much as Underworld, Neil Finn, Saint Etienne, and Spoon, who you could arge are underdogs by comparison. I do sincerely love the new Beck album, and I was terrified I wouldn't before I heard it. I won't really say much about it here because I'd only be repeating what 1,293,892 other critics have said. Favorite track: "End Of The Day".

6. Flaming Lips: Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots�The second of the grand champions. I am not in love with this album the way I was with The Soft Bulletin, which was pretty much the soundtrack to the summer of 1999 for me. That said, I think a lot of the songs here are very intelligent, very moving. Perhaps more emotionally engaging than any of the band's previous material. Supposedly, the whole album is an elegy for a friend who died. I can definitely hear this in "It's Summertime," which reminds the listener that simply because it is summertime, it does not mean she has to be happy. I saw them play at the Arragon this past summer, and I have never seen a man happier to be alive than Wayne Coyne during their too-short set. When he told the audience it was the best night yet of the tour, I think we all believed him, his blood-covered face looked so sincere. All the acid-drenched winking and nudging of their previous several albums seems to have been replaced by a touching earnestness as the band moves into its twentieth year, its members into middle age. The songs are still excellent, the sounds are still novel, but we don't have to feel so ironically detached from them anymore.

7. Wilco: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot�This album is fascinating even without knowing the whole record label backstory. Almost worth it for "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" alone, which is irresistible and harrowing. I first heard the song at the beginning of summer, but it seems an ideal song for winter. Like the season, this song is neither short, nor easy, nor simple. At the other end of the stylistic spectrum, but no less moving, is "Heavy Metal Drummer," which is an excellent song for summer, and one for which I have a special affinity, being a drummer (though I have never played Kiss covers). Along with the rest of the world, I will be attending their show here on the 10th.

8. Timo Maas: Loud�I am so proud of myself. Last spring I gave Mitchell a copy of this album, and he promptly put "Shifter" into rotation when he DJed at the Alley Cat on Wednesday nights. The crowd loved it. I made a difference! The rest of this album is top-form dance music, with a little bit of ambient and trip-hop thrown in. "Bad Days" is the perfect chill-out finale.

9. David Bowie: Heathen�There's the D-world again: Hours was a disappointment. So everyone was wondering if he could get back on top of his game, and I think he did, splendidly. Favorite tracks are "Sunday", "5:15 The Angels Have Gone", and "I Took A Trip On A Gemini Spacecraft".

10. Interpol: Turn On The Bright Lights�I'm taking a major risk here and choosing an album that I haven't yet listened to all the way through. I've seen the name in a few magazines, so I am aware they are being groomed for Next Big Thing status, and will be forever doomed to bear the "Next Strokes" cross. But I'm going to commit heresy here and say I like them leagues better than the Strokes, perhaps because they haven't been rammed down my throat every day for the past twelve months (White Stripes, anyone?). No, I'm going to get to this band before every single magazine and MTV promo does. I'm going to listen to the album before I read the profile in Spin. Sounds weird, I know. But I think I can pull it off.

There you have it. It probably wouldn't get me a job at Pitchfork, but it'll do for now.

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