The No Ripcord Years: 2003-2004 (NR10)

As part of our tenth birthday celebrations, I asked the current crop of No Ripcord writers to contribute a few words on some of their favourite records of the last ten years. This is not intended to be a definitive look at the last decade; think of it instead as a space for all of us to remember some of the great music of the period and to promote a few unfairly neglected efforts. Perhaps at some point down the line we’ll do a best of decade feature – this is not it. 

Please use the comments space to discuss some of the music you remember from 2003 and 2004. Reflections on overlooked gems and undisputed classics are equally welcome. 

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2003

The year of the White Stripes? Two of our writers think so, but I’m still inclined to disagree. Regardless of your views on Elephant, though, it’s hard to argue with the musical fruits of 2003. I was particularly proud when M83’s Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts topped our end of year list, not because it was my personal favourite, but because it was a great underdog record. No one’s written about it here, but let it go down as an honourable mention. 

The White Stripes: Elephant

White Blood Cells brought them notoriety, but Elephant gave them credibility.  The peppermint-clad duo of Jack and Meg White brought the decade one of its milestones, a robust and blues-driven rush of sonic energy, simple but effective.  The dangers of one-hit wonder-dom that befell most of the decade’s early crop of garage revivalists was put to rest with Elephant, as the single Seven Nation Army bore the bass line heard around the world for at least a year.  Adding a low end to the mix?  Jack’s best idea ever. (Sean Caldwell)

You’ve probably noticed a lot of White Stripes on this list. Well, there’s a reason – they are the best.  It’s as simple as that – they are the best band in music today (even with the slight misstep of Icky Thump, I will stand by that statement).  And this is their biggest album, introducing Jack White as a genuine blues guitarist (Ball and a Biscuit) and Meg as the plucky, though traditionally unsound, drummer.  Leave it to the White Stripes to craft one of the catchiest basslines in years (Seven Nation Army) when the band doesn’t even have a bassist! (Andy Pareti)

The Microphones: Mount Eerie

A strange and demanding record, Mount Eerie begins with a seventeen-minute blast of tribal percussion (The Sun) and features two songs with the same title (Universe). The narrative is equally bizarre – the hero dies, is devoured by vultures, and re-emerges to discover what this universe of ours is all about (or something like that). Mount Eerie was Phil Elvrum’s (he added the extra ‘e’ afterwards) last album as The Microphones, and although The Glow Pt. 2 is more widely revered, I find invariably find myself turning to this stunning record whenever I feel the need for a Microphones fix. (David Coleman)

The Dears: No Cities Left

The Dears so nearly broke through in the UK in 2003. Critics fell for their swooning soundscapes reminiscent of the best bits of Blur and Morrissey and column inches were duly filled. But then it seems someone realised head Dear Murray Lightburn was black and from that point on, that’s all the Dears-related articles could talk about. It was the UK’s loss really, as No Cities Left is as close to perfect as a sprawling rock odyssey can get. The attention to detail in how every note is sung or played, the arrangements and production is simply astonishing. Twelve killer tunes treated with the love and care they deserve, but always willing to experiment and be innovative, whether it be the squall of jazz and feedback that opens Pinned Together, Falling Apart or the barked vocals that close Never Destroy Us. Ignore the fact that The Dears now have the kind of revolving door approach to band members that would shame Mark E Smith, No Cities Left is simply essential. (Joe Rivers)

Kenna: New Sacred Cow

Take the Neptunes, minus the sex, add a heart, and Kenna will emerge like instant pudding mix. Electronic, funky, and sickly sincere, New Sacred Cow was an auspicious beginning for the wounded-voiced Ethiopia native, whose razor-edged sound came shining through on tracks like the synth-drenched Freetime. Yet it is Kenna's penchant for apocalyptic, melodramatic fare – such as the dark electronic Hell Bent – that endeared him to a fan base hungry for serious music. New Sacred Cow flew far under the radar for far too long, yet its shine is no less bright or everlasting. (Kevin Liedel)

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2004

There was some great music released in 2004. The Arcade Fire’s Funeral topped our end of year round-up, but any of the 2004 releases by Wilco, Madvillain, Junior Boys, Sonic Youth, The Walkmen and Animal Collective would have been worthy winners.

Tom Waits: Real Gone

Real Gone saw the inner-workings of my car stereo for the rest of 2004 and the beginning few months of 2005.  Its title lacing its content with an otherworldliness that few albums reflect with such authenticity, Real Gone sparked visions of dancing scarecrows squaring-up with pocket-watched armchairs while grandfather clocks rang in the midnight hour, smoking pipes as scattered Victrolas playing different tunes somehow synched up in celebratory community.  No logic, no reality; just an amazing album. (Sean Caldwell)

The Arcade Fire: Funeral 

The less-welcomed but ultimately superior predecessor to Neon Bible, Funeral rolled up its sleeves and eschewed grace for elbow grease. The album remains quaint, but beautifully so; the single piano peels of Rebellion (Lies) are achingly simple, as is the slow, dirty gait of Wake Up. Yet the four part Neighborhood opus is enough to remind listeners that Funeral is weightier than its footstep implies, thus proving the true mark of a great album: epic, but never needlessly grand. The Arcade Fire accomplish this feat - and wonderfully so - in Funeral's smallest moments. (Kevin Liedel)

I bought a $12 ticket to see the Arcade Fire live in 2004 before I ever heard Funeral. To this day, that is the single best concert I have ever been to. The band opened with Wake Up, howling at the heavens, slamming on their tambourines, drums, and guitars with a group abandon that left the 1200-person crowd in awe. If there is a better introduction to a band, I don’t know what it is. As for the album, Funeral inspires. Win Butler’s warble, sounding almost on the brink of tears as he spun stories of fear and regret, sends chills down my spine. The album cries out against emerging out of a blissfully ignorant childhood to a disjointed world – a modernist take on a world of war and strife and the terror of the unknown tomorrow. I’m waxing poetic, but it really is that good. (Conor McKay) 

The Black Keys: Rubber Factory

And here we are, with the second best blues rock band today.  The Black Keys have never perfected the blues-garage rock combo quite like they did on Rubber Factory, where songs like Stack Shot Billy and Keep Me simply bury themselves inside your head.  Oh, and Dan Auerbach’s smoggy voice is one thing that these guys have over the Stripes. (Andy Pareti)

Mission of Burma: ONoffON

22 years after the classic Vs., Boston’s greatest post-punk band Mission of Burma returned with a far stronger album than anyone could have possibly imagined. This arrived at the perfect time for me; I’d only just finished devouring Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life book and Burma was my new favourite band at the time. ONoffON blew me away in 2004, and still sounds urgent and thrilling today. (David Coleman)

Kings of Convenience: Riot on an Empty Street

We’re well into 2009 now, yet my favourite album of the year so far is one that was released almost five years ago. Riot on an Empty Street bubbles with intrigue; something which is immediately obvious from the front cover where Erlend Øye is eyed-up by his bandmate’s girlfriend. This album is understated and sparse, yet utterly, utterly gorgeous. Comprised of mostly just acoustic guitar, piano and minimal percussion, it’s 45 minutes where you can get completely lost and just absorb the music. From the perky single I’d Rather Dance with You to the lingering The Build-Up, Kings of Convenience perfect the trick of keeping it simple whilst always remaining compelling. (Joe Rivers)

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