Top 10 Albums of 2015

The year 2015 was everything 2014 wasn't. It was a high mark for music with an impressively substantive set of albums basking in a heavy consensus of praise with one universally acclaimed monster at the top. Whereas the prior year had a diverse group of albums claiming the top spot on many annual lists, this year it was pretty clear who would be comprising the highest spots.  

As this is my first published “Best Of” list, I’d like to start with some good habits. This year I will impose the limitation to only post a definitive list about a year after that year has actually concluded. I’ll go ahead and call this “The D’Angelo Rule.” This comes after a year when overeager trigger fingers led the seminal album Black Messiah being left off many 2014 lists, a year that it rightfully belonged to and a year that an album of that caliber would own. In an awkward attempt of revisionism, some publications tried to sneak it onto this year's lists, validating it with the insane shadow it cast throughout 2015. But we all know the truth: Black Messiah was an epic bookend for the chaotic year of unrest that was 2014, and music publications just didn’t have the foresight to wait until the year was over to make their statement about it. That being said, you will not find D'Angelo on here despite its undeniable importance. 

Another difference between the last two years is how they went out. With D'Angelo's surprise statement album and the first Kanye-McCartney collab track, 2014 showed promising signs of light in the future. After a year of being spoiled with a plethora of quality new music, it's not clear what kind of sign we should take from the tepid Kanye freestyle that dropped on this New Year's. Personally, I was holding on to hope that Frank Ocean would follow in his spiritual predecessor’s footsteps and release his long-awaited follow-up to Channel Orange just before the new year. But now, with complete confidence, I can present BwtY’s Top 10 Albums of 2015.

10. The Beyond/Where The Giants Roam - Thundercat

In all honesty, the amount of albums included on a list is arbitrary, I'm going to stick with ten this year because it's a nice round number, but this list truthfully began with about 18 albums. When it came time to pick the final slot, it came down to what I really wanted to include. In a list of just 10, the #10 spot has to be pure personal advocacy. This is the type of adoration that comes with Thundercat's music.

Despite it's EP length and debatably rote concepts, this album sounds unlike anything out there today (unless Thundercat is on the project as well). Bassists rarely get the credit deserved for their fundamental role in song dynamics, but Thundercat brings the instrument to the forefront. His skill with an instrument based in the rhythm section and its influence is undeniable here, as each track has a catchy beat coupled with propulsive, crisp percussion, such as on "Them Changes."

The Beyond/Where The Giants Roam treads familiar ground for the artist, but he skillfully keeps the dour subject matter from weighing too heavy. This feels like a part of Thundercat's natural progression, and although it's not a huge leap forward, it's an incredible achievement as an artist to reach this kind of consistency. This can be perhaps encapsulated by the fantastic collaboration with Flying Lotus and the legendary Herbie Hancock on "Lone Wolf and Cub." Thundercat's unique brand of jazz fusion and hip-hop fusion may be more familiar to listeners nowadays, but there's pleasure in witnessing the artist find new ways to challenge himself and reach new milestones.  

9. Coming Home - Leon Bridges

Leon Bridges has a lot in common with Bruno Mars: they both make people feel simultaneously pleased and uneasy with how easily they can replicate an aesthetic from a previous generation. Leon Bridges is going for a modern day Sam Cooke, from song composition to vocal performance to style, and he's very good at it. Because of this comparison though, it might not seem like Bridges is reinventing the wheel. However, the point of Coming Home is Bridges reaching for the same things as Cooke rather than grasping for "Sam Cooke" the myth. 

He achieves this with a set of infectious, soul-infused cuts that fittingly can lead to shameless twists and two-steps. When Bridges does break the mold, like on the deep cut “Lisa Sawyer,” he still keeps everything sweet. It’s songs like this, which focuses on his grandmother, that suggest Bridges is capable of something beyond just 1960’s song structures.

Bridges will certainly be an artist to watch. The comparison to Mars is not so much a slight as it is a challenge: can he make a successful career translating old musical genres to a modern audience without becoming too played out? Play your cards right Leon, and pretty soon you’ll have a Mark Ronson hit making you millions.

8. Have You In My Wilderness - Julia Holter

There's a voice calling out from the stillness of the void with a sweet melody. At least that's the image conjured when Holter's dreamy reverberated vocals and slowly swelling strings begin on the opening track "Feel You". What begins as a seemingly standard chamber folk record quickly transforms into a beautifully composed collection of songs that showcases Holter's versatility. From the orchestral and vocal ebbs and flows on "Lucette Stranded On The Island" to the sudden saxophone interlude on "Sea Calls Me Home," Holter successfully explores new musical territory.

Have You In My Wilderness is also perfectly paced. Just when the dreaminess starts to become draining, Holter drops the plucky pop gem "Everytime Boots." It's an irresistible tune that only she could craft, one that's fun while fully aware of the urgency of reality waiting to pop out at any moment (for Holter, they're hiding in the song's bridge). 

This respite is followed by more gloominess and experimentation, but these digressions are more profound than self-flagellating. Even in their minute differences, these songs each bring something new, where each rush of strings feels like a new revelation. Luckily for us, Holter's type of wilderness isn't that of a barren wasteland, but a vast forest swathed with the abundant unknown. 

7. Carrie & Lowell 

Although Stevens has gained a reputation for setting-based songwriting over the years, his most recent album feels the most rooted in an actual home. He has created a deeply personal set of songs that views death and loss from the scope of his own complicated family. It’s a heavy, unrelenting piece of work that pairs even the most infectious melodies on “Eugene,” with lines like “What’s left is only bittersweet/For the rest of my life, admitting the best is behind me.”

And yet, listening to Carrie & Lowell doesn’t make you want to take a shower after every listen. Sure, it's lyrically ambiguous about overcoming grief, but overall this is one of his most focused works. He even harnesses his ambitious musical tendencies into complex folk melodies and beautiful but concise codas on songs like “Drawn to the Blood” and “Blue Bucket of Gold.” Stevens is lyrically ambiguous about how to overcome grief, but the conclusion will have you braced for the impact.

6. Sometimes I Sit And Think, Sometimes I Just Sit - Courtney Barnett

How does one properly serve as a fan of Courtney Barnett? On “Pedestrian At Best,” she essentially makes the case against fandom bordering on hero worship when she says “Put me on a pedestal and I'll only disappoint you/Tell me I'm exceptional, I promise to exploit you.” It’s a difficult task to avoid getting too personally connected to this album without feeling like you’re playing right into her hands and making you into a fool.

And yet, this album has connected with so many over just a year, even nabbing a Best New Artist nomination at the Grammy’s. The way Barnett went blazing through 2015 is representative of how Sometimes I Sit And Think… goes. The amount of aggression and passion is only equaled by aloofness and apathy. On top of catchy and edgy rock compositions, Barnett presents an authentic angst to host of everyday first world struggles like simultaneously wanting to go out and stay in.

Barnett’s personality and demeanor is refreshing as someone who addresses real and trivial worries with the same directness and lack of airs. She is a relatable voice that has broken into the mainstream consciousness; whether or not that is a good thing to her is unclear. For the rest of us, it clearly is.

5. Currents - Tame Impala

There’s a bit of personal bias here for me because I was robbed by Tame Impala this summer. At a show in Washington DC, admittedly early in their tour, they played an excellent set save for one thing: there was nothing we hadn’t head from Currents already. I can understand the spoiler-free approach since the show was before the album was released, but this means I was deprived of the dance club beats that propel this album from start to finish. 

On Tame Impala’s third album, they shift from the distorted psychedelia of their prior efforts to an ethereal, electro-funk dance set. It’s a jarring transition that happens right around the 5-minute mark of the first song “Let It Happen.” The songwriting is still rich with themes like human intimacy and disconnect, but Kevin Parker now approaches these with clear-eyed maturity. Lines such as “I know that I’ll be happier/And I know you will too/Eventually” suggest that Parker has gotten some deeper insights since he was celebrating solitude or daydreaming about a crush. 

This album really grows on you, and perhaps a bit slower than its two predecessors. While there isn’t a truly weak track on there, there is definitely a lot more to digest. The last few songs, although great in their own right, tend to drag when listening to the songs consecutively. It also helps that the bona fide banger “The Less I Know The Better” comes pretty late in the album.

This diversion for Parker and his outfit is a good sign of progress. Although it’s not absolutely perfect in every sense, it does feel like a perfect transitional album that shows a welcome bit of experimentation and risk-taking.

4. Depression Cherry / Thank Your Lucky Stars - Beach House

I know grouping these two albums together goes against the intentional decision by the band to release them separately, and yet this is the price you pay by releasing two exceptional albums in the same year. Depression Cherry was already an impressive work in its own right, but the surprise release of a second fully-formed, strongly consistent, and impressively cohesive album made 2015 a definitive year for Beach House.

Depression Cherry is a statement album from a band that most people probably expected to fade out after the diminishing returns of 2012’s Bloom. Despite the heavier themes and return to more minimalistic instrumentation, this album is bursting with life. It’s Legrand and Alex Scally at the peak of their creative abilities, displaying a mastery of their particular style. However, the band hasn’t forgotten what has helped them build such a dedicated fanbase, and this becomes even more obvious with their follow-up.

Thank Your Lucky Stars could easily fit into Beach House’s career following their breakout album Devotion or dreamy masterpiece Teen Dream. It is nothing short of a huge creative achievement that they are able to create music reminiscent of their earlier, dream pop days while maintaining the affective emotion and maturity of their prior two releases. It also feeds into a greater appreciation of Depression Cherry as it accentuates the massive strides they have taken with their sound.

It’s with Thank Your Lucky Stars that Beach House makes the same meta-statement to all the Teen Dream purists who haven’t developed a taste for their more recent foray into the morose territory of Bloom and Depression Cherry: they could easily go back to what worked in the dream-pop heyday. But they're over-achievers; instead of a song to remind the masses, they released a whole album. It is for this reason that on a good day, you could argue that there subsequent release is the superior of the two. But I’m not making that argument today, so a tie will have to suffice.

3. If You’re Reading This It's Too Late - Drake

Drake has made a career out of turning singles into overnight classics. Although he has an unmatchable ear for hooks, he has never made a complete album with start-to-finish knockout hits, until now. Honestly, by the time Drake released his string of diss tracks for Meek Mill in July, If You’re Reading This... already felt like a solidified benchmark in his career.  Whether it was his insertion of “woes” into the millennial lexicon or the parody video for “Energy” that thrust music videos back into relevance (something he built on later in the year), Drake very much defined pop culture in 2015. 

Those are just the sound bites though. There is unprecedented depth for Drake on this album, which finds him simultaneously at his most boisterous, mature, and sultry. He builds on the earnestness of Nothing Was The Same, which finally allowed him to take control of the narrative of his career, and combines that with the fun, playful persona that we’ve become so accustomed to hearing on his non-album singles.  Perhaps the label of “mixtape” allowed Drake to loosen up a bit more, but he made his most enjoyable and accessible album yet without compromising the maturity and respect that he has worked so hard to cultivate.

2. I Love You, Honeybear - Father John Misty

How can a dubious, sharp mind like Josh Tillman surrender to the blind, ignorant charms of love? The journey is packed with that inherent irony, but his acceptance comes with more unashamed bliss than bitterness. As Father John Misty, he fights to keep his confident veneer and debilitating vices intact as he confronts the enticing urges of love, and while he might have a bit more to shake off than the average person (see: “The Night Josh Tillman Came”), his internal struggle remains relatable. He approaches this internal struggle with such honesty that we witness a man that is unable to get out of his own way to be happy. 

In a cynical world that often equates falling in love to selling out, one of the most contemptuous minds finds a way to flip the script. The same cantankerous, maniacal perspective behind this can find the beauty in the realism of "I Went To The Store One Day." After all of the layers that have been shed leading up to that pivotal final track, we finally hear some semblance of truth from Tillman: love is chaotic.

1. To Pimp A Butterfly - Kendrick Lamar

This is where the D’Angelo Rule becomes so important; although the newest releases from Kendrick and D’Angelo vastly differ in composition and execution, they very much occupied the same social schema. And while Black Messiah has had an irrefutable impact on the national conversation regarding the fatally flawed American justice system, the loudest statement in 2015 came from To Pimp A Butterfly. 

There’s not much that hasn’t already been said about this album. It’s the album of our generation. It gave the #BlackLivesMatter movement a rallying cry. I mean shit, it was #1 on Obama’s list. Kendrick Lamar, with his team of collaborators, set out on an unprecedented mission to redefine a rapper's capabilities, not only within the genre but as a member of society too. Lamar views the injustices of the world from his newly-minted celebrity status and instead of distancing himself from his past, he dives back in. 

An impressive thing about this album is how its depth equally matches its ambition; while there’s no question “Alright” is the blockbuster track, even the deepest cuts have extraordinary playability. “Momma,” might be the low-key best all-around track in terms of concept and delivery, while “You Ain’t Gotta Lie (Momma Said)” finds Kendrick at his most Q-Tip. Both songs, which have no chance of actually becoming mainstream hits, still manage to stand out even when sandwiched between immediate juggernauts like “The Blacker The Berry” and “i.” The album follows Lamar as he grapples with fame and his responsibility to his community, but he makes this introspective moral dilemma accessible with assured intention, deft production and an elaborate recurring skit that drives the theme home. 

The most incredible part of To Pimp A Butterfly, and the legend that has followed since its release, is how engrained it has become in our society. Lamar approaches issues on race and violence unapologetically and forces his listeners to face these injustices head-on without buckling for broader appeal. This doesn't even account for the genre-defying production he used, the unparalleled focus on storytelling and multi-layered concepts, or the "conscious rapper" attitude that typically doesn't sell for mainstream hip-hop. Kendrick may not have figured out how to change the system yet, but he no longer seems conflicted about how to use his influence. 

Beach House - "Depression Cherry"

One cannot think about the new Beach House album without first considering their last effort, 2012's Bloom. While many of the new tracks are particularly reminiscent of their divisive, moodier predecessor, it builds on this creative digression with more regard for their tried-and-true, dream pop formula of the past. To call Depression Cherry a return-to-form would underscore the enormous creative strides they have made lyrically and sonically over the last two albums. However, their latest work proves the band has finally resolved the struggle to combine their new direction with what first connected with fans. 

Although Depression Cherry finds Beach House reapplying some of their more universally admired tendencies, they continue to expand their palate. There's the minimalist melodies and punctuated guitar accents. The rhythmic drum machine beats make a welcomed return. The climatic sweeps of layered sound, such as on "PPP" for example, rush in at the perfect moment to induce wide-eyed wonder. In Depression Cherry they have synthesized the accessibility of their first two albums, the mature production of Teen Dream, and the deeply personal lyrics of Bloom. This amalgamation could have become rote and ineffectual, but instead Beach House displays true mastery of their sound with their most evenly paced work yet. 

Cover: Sub Pop Records

The first song on a Beach House album is delicate in that it must be undeniably epic in their own unique style; in most cases, it will be the last dose of adrenaline listeners will get for quite some time. The opener "Levitation," does not disappoint. It takes its time to build, and when the climax hits it's powerful yet subdued. Whereas "Zebra" speeds to a gallop, this first track spills into every corner of the mind with a sedating wash of sound. It sets the tone for what becomes an introspective examination of interpersonal relationships and individualism. 

Beach House gets their version of a rally song with their first single, "Sparks" which outlines the challenges of self-censorship and the benefit of letting your voice be heard. It's the kind of inspiring message that the band usually twists and subverts, but this time around they end on a positive note with the refrain "Make it/ Wave it/ Alive!" It's these more optimistic turns that create the biggest surprises on the album. The song is accompanied with a bit of distortion that creates one of the band's heaviest instrumentations, but the true experiment is in the lyrics.

Victoria Legrand's sultry vocals have only become more pronounced over the years, and luckily the lyrics have continued a similar upward trajectory. The improvement in her writing abilities has allowed for broader concepts like love and betrayal to adopt the same nuance as the production. Her indescribable flashes of creativity are now filtered into well-comprehended ambiguities. The lyrics provide an imagery that complements the instrumentals so that when the music takes a shift, it's because the whole world within the song is shifting. Never have Legrand and Alex Scally been this in sync and united with their individual contributions.

Then comes the criticism that Beach House never quite ventures far from their formula. This is a simplistic analysis of a band largely caused by their adherence to what works. Although their penchant for minimalistic, dream pop can sometimes limit the excitement of a new release, this band continues to reinvent itself within its niche. Songs still consist of the same subject matter, but Legrand finds new ways to approach topics; two songs focusing on marriage and commitment, "Wedding Bell" on Devotion and Cherry's "PPP,"  could not be further from each other stylistically. The gambles are often subtle, but they can lead to profound payoffs; it's only on the more straightforward songs like "Wildflower" and "Bluebird" that the act starts to feel repetitive. 

Perhaps the greatest leap comes at the end, with closer "Days of Candy," which utilizes an 8-man choir for the bedrock of the track. It's haunting, beautiful, and the most human the band has ever been. There is a vulnerability in the lyrics with an added tinge of wistfulness that isn't expected from the group. It gives the album a sense of finality that makes this project their most fully-realized vision yet. Most of all, it demonstrates their range as they fade out moving in a new direction. 

N.W.A. biopic goes 'Straight' to the point

Straight Outta Compton swaggers like the gangsta rap pioneers it's based on, but it is not intentional enough with its style to fight the typical music biopic conventions. Although the movie avoids simply going through the motions with the highs and lows of fame, it lacks a deeper regard for the subjects and their individual thoughts and personalities. Every event felt like it was missing necessary context; with a two-and-a-half hour movie, it stands as a testament to the source material that the only thing needed is more elaboration. However, Straight Outta Compton does well even as a kind of "N.W.A for Dummies." 

The movie starts out in predictably tense fashion by simultaneously introducing the audience to member Eazy-E (Jason Mitchell) and the street origins of the group. After an expertly handled opening scene, the film quickly gets down to business. We share an intimate moment with Dre (Corey Hawkins) and his records, and witness Ice Cube (O'Shea Jackson, Jr.) as a misunderstood outcast who handles the daily struggle by keeping his head down and scribbling rhymes in his notebook. They're brief but effective samples of the background that led to N.W.A. but after this point the story goes into overdrive. 

To its credit, the film doesn't dumb anything down or try to over-explain anything. The slang and cultural references are there for verisimilitude rather than a heavy-handed reminder of the times. The cast aides the immersion by giving genuine performances that do justice to their inspirations. The three main leads show incredible chemistry in every dynamic imaginable, whether it's in the studio, on-stage, or years later. Although there were a few more people involved, the film does right by keeping the story focused on the most prolific members; it makes even more sense narratively as the film transitions past N.W.A.'s dissolution and covers their solo ventures. 

But surely the controversial history surrounding N.W.A. would be a little more complex than some wild tour stories, a couple threats, and nefarious businessmen? There's little time spent on the national effect of gangsta rap (other than the obvious retaliation of police) and the relationship between the group's members changes without much foreshadowing. It's a shame that so much appears to have been taken out from the supposedly 150-page script because a longer cut would have allowed this story to breathe and flow naturally. 

The cast embodies every part of the iconic rap group, from the walk to the mean mug. photo: Universal Pictures.

Perhaps the logical holes in the film could be chalked up to the actual lapses in reason of young, impressionable artists, but part of it comes from the audience not being given enough time to understand how each member developed over the course of their rise to fame. The rift between members isn't introduced with the slow boil of two years of label alienation, but rather a quick heel-turn by their manager Jerry Heller (Paul Giamatti). Heller shifts from seemingly supportive and unobtrusive to dubious and manipulative in a matter of a few scenes; one second he's sticking up to the police for the guys and singing their graces, but the next he's scheming with Eazy behind the others' backs. 

Director F. Gary Gray has a long history with N.W.A. through his work with Ice Cube on Friday and several music videos. His close relationship with the material lends the film a sense of intimacy and shows a clear understanding of the group's impact on history. However, the efforts to glorify start to become a deification of sorts. There has been quite an uproar over the group's troubled past lately, and I can't help but think these complaints are justified based on how their film counterparts lack any flaws. Their courage to stand up to systematic injustice was undeniably heroic, but portraying each character as faultless protagonists denies the complex history behind their careers.    

Straight Outta Compton is more than the typical music biopic, but it had the potential to be even more. Although the film does an excellent job of giving newcomers a feel for how revolutionary N.W.A. was, it often feels like a retelling of a chaotic situation with rose-colored glasses. Whether this is caused by the many producers looking to preserve their legacies or the director's economical storytelling, it ultimately takes away much of the group's most defining personality trait: attitude. 

Reaction: Rolling Stone's 100 Greatest Songwriters

In a culture that now focuses more on a catchy beat and hook than the pesky words in between, Rolling Stone continues their rock 'n' roll historical tradition with their latest ranking of the 100 Greatest Songwriters of All Time. It arrives at a perfect time as the younger generation of listeners continues to reel over the recent non-revelation of ghostwriting in rap -- thanks to the Drake/Meek Mill beef. The final decisions are comparatively more diverse in their public notoriety due to the amount of songwriting factories that existed during the time when many pop standards were created (ahem, Motown). However, some selections, even in the Top 10, fall into the same pattern as previous lists with obligatory choices that feel like quota fillers or artists that are undeniably talented artists but not due to their songwriting abilities. The article succeeds by putting the spotlight on not only a wide range of artists, but the writing process and the many views of songwriting as an art form. 

The Honorable Mentions (#100-#51)

The first fifty entries are like acknowledgements at the end of movie credits: if we really care about you personally, we're just happy to see your name on the screen. These artists had to be acknowledged for some contribution to the form of songwriting, but the number are pretty much arbitrary at this point. That being said, I won’t gripe about order that much. Instead I’ll celebrate that some singer-songwriters are getting some much-deserved recognition (hey there, Harry Nilsson!) and focus on some of the more interesting choices.

Hey, I know these ones! 

Based on the way mainstream music is consumed these days, I wasn’t expecting many current high profile acts. Sure enough the biggest of them all, Ms. Taylor Swift, falls at #97. I understand that this list would not feel holistic without some new blood, and also if she’s selling records like nobody’s business clearly she has to be doing something right, but does Taylor really deserve to be included just because she’s one of the last pop stars to actually write her own material? With a catalogue consisting of little variation in subject matter and some of her biggest hits sharing writing credits with commercial writing juggernauts (shout-out to #41 Max Martin!), the choice of her inclusion seems more edgy than artistic. However, because her image is based on that of an authentic songwriter, this choice is more understandable than aggravating. Not so much for another pop star…

There is no denying Kanye is a prolific and innovative artist, but any songwriter who repeatedly rhymes words with the same words, makes historically inaccurate metaphors (yes, I'm still not over "I keep it 300, like the Romans"), and confines the writing process to a few days with hit-or-miss results should not be regarded as one of the greatest songwriters. West has made a career in saying what most people won’t, but this has more to do with how he delivers it than what is said. Part of his fame is built around his tendency to speak his mind in only so many words, but as a musician his words are usually not the most impressive part of the mix.

Where the order matters….

How can you justify putting the Bee Gees anywhere near the bottom of this list, especially as far down as #95? It’s Barry F’in Gibb! I mean who else could pen a song that would eventually underscore the delightfully ironic introduction for Jared Leto as the Joker? All memes aside, this band has way more contributions than their infamous foray into disco; even the explanation shows their influence on some of the highest-ranked songwriters. The Gibbs deserve better.

Marvin Gaye (#82) after R. Kelly (#80) just seems wrong. One wrote a landmark album about social change, spirituality, and humanity’s responsibility to Earth, while the other had a string of sexually-charged hits and a magnum opus revolving around an ill-fated game of hide-and-seek in the most obvious hiding spot. Although Kels may have been able to finally verbalize what it was like to be Michael Jordan, Gaye spoke for a generation about timeless struggles that continue to ring true today.

Sure, Lennon and McCartney are the main wordsmiths of the group, but is George Harrison (#63) really that much of an inferior writer? With his smaller catalogue it’s hard to see where he’d fit further up on the list, but it’s also hard to imagine how many writers could conceive of a song as remarkably perfect as “Something.”

Billie Joe

No matter what number he was placed at, thank you Rolling Stone for thinking to include Billie Joe Armstrong (#93). The singer-songwriter of Green Day has shown astronomical growth throughout his career, going from an angsty punk to serious social commentator while continuously challenging himself creatively. His ability to harness the simultaneous raw power of punk and accessibility of pop on the statement album “American Idiot” provided much-needed catharsis to a jaded country. The fact that he succeeded so well while also composing a modern rock opera is proof of a master.

The In-betweeners (#49 - #50)

Alright, so the decision to put Billy Joel (#50) and Don Henley and Glenn Frey (#49) square in the middle is brilliant. As members of two of the most divisive acts in rock history (responsible for 80’s Joel and The Eagles, respectively), they deserve to be on this list for their creative peaks but not far enough to upset those who stand adamantly against them. It's a very diplomatic move on Rolling Stone's part. 

Heavy Competition (#10 - #48)

It gets harder to argue about undeserving placements at this point, but what is most astonishing is how many combinations of ten you could make from this group that could rival the actual Top 10. Bowie is #39. U2 and Michael Jackson are neighbors at #35 and #34 respectively. The original folk singer-songwriter hero Woody Guthrie (#28) didn’t even crack the Top 20!  Looking down the list, my mind began to scramble wondering who could be left for the final spots. I mean they even kept their Golden Boy Bruce (#14) out of the top group! Seriously, they love The Boss. My biggest question is if Neil Young (#17) isn’t one of the 10 greatest songwriters of all-time, why do we put up with his singing? The fact that he's managed to have such a legendary career is surely worthy of those top 10 spots. Then they really start to break hearts. The last two in this group, Brian Wilson (#12) and Bob Marley (#11) could easily fit into the first and second overall spots without much argument, but yet, there are still ten more to go…

The Top 10

Looking at this group, it’s not surprising to see whom Rolling Stone deemed the most worthy. Aside from the fact that they used quotes from Bob Dylan for several other artists’ blurbs, it was obvious he would be #1. Dylan will always be the most definitive, recognizable singer-songwriter. It had to be him from the second the idea for this list was conceived.

And yes, Paul (#2) should come before John (#3). However, do Chuck Barry lyrics really have the same emotional weight as some of the others in this group? I can understand wanting to honor rock 'n' roll tradition with the one who started it all, but just because he was first doesn’t make him the best. In a contentious competition like this, the Top 10 should really be reserved for the best at what they do and this remains largely true; Smokey Robinson could write the purest, soulful love songs, Simon could bend genres every album like no other, Stevie could evoke every corner of the heart and soul, Lennon and McCartney comprised the greatest songwriting duo, and the Stones could rock harder than anyone on here. The problem I have with the only two females to crack the top group is that comparatively, Carole King is light-years ahead of Joni Mitchell, yet only separated by two spots on this list. It makes me wonder if there was any pressure to have more than one woman in the top 10 for diversity’s sake. Women in general seem underrepresented here with Dolly Parton being the next solo female act at #30, and there's hardly anyone to represent the many strides female songwriters have made more recently (but more on that later). Regardless, Mitchell warranted her spot for fulfilling a fundamental role of a songwriter: to capture a movement with words that many people needed and defined a moment 

Missing Pieces

There really isn’t a pick on here that is outright heinous, but the exclusion of some makes the certain inclusion of others seem questionable. When I first saw this list posted, my millennial mind went right to Conor Oberst, the brains behind Bright Eyes. Not only was he a songwriting prodigy of sorts (he recorded his first album at age 13), but Oberst has consistently captured intimate moods and feelings with lines so brutally honest they’ll never fail to devastate you. He’s a spiritual descendent of Dylan without trying too hard to follow his path. In the same argument, Elliott Smith was curiously not present.

There were also some areas where this list was truly lacking, especially rappers and women. How about throwing in Lauryn Hill to cover both? Whether she was eviscerating lines with the Fugees or digging into her sensual, spiritual side on her classic The Miseducation…, Lauryn Hill redefined the female image in music. She showed incredible range transitioning from rapper to neo-soul superstar, and despite her short time at the top, made a huge impact on female songwriters. As for other women, why not Alanis? Maybe I’m on too much of a kick from The End of the Tour, but Alanis Morissette could simultaneously write seething grunge jams while also fitting the traditional female singer-songwriter role like a hand in her pocket.

In terms of rappers, the list does well to pick four of the all-time best (Eminem, Kanye, Jay-Z, and Notorious B.I.G.), but they hardly cover the depth of rap and hip-hop. Tupac has just as much right to be on this list as his competitors, and in some cases makes more sense; after all, he was the well-read, outspoken social activist foil to Biggie’s mafioso persona. The most glaring omission has to be Outkast though. With Big Boi’s mile-per-minute flow and Andre 3000’s ability to fit the most unique lines in any beat, these two had an inimitable streak of classic albums and had quite a lot to say.

From the classic rock pantheon, no omission could be more glaring than Hendrix and the writing duo of Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Perhaps Rolling Stone just decided that not enough lyrics made sense to qualify, but those three wrote some of the most fundamental rock songs. This same rule might've been what kept Anthony Kiedis out. His lyrics have sometimes created more confusion than cohesion, but the band certainly gains additional depth due to his poetic approach to songs…once you figure out what he’s talking about.

What will the next list be? Perhaps they’ll pick a category that doesn’t have at least one Beatle in the Top 20? If they continue this trend of behind-the-scenes and lesser known names in the business, my vote would be 100 Greatest Producers. After all, George Martin needs some love too. 

'Fantastic Four' can't live up to its promising title

Believe what you read about the new Fantastic Four reboot. Much has been said about this film already, so I wanted to go into this looking for some kind of redeeming quality. It truly does not have one. Every potential salvation for this film is squandered by whichever reason you choose to believe (the two biggest being inexperienced direction and studio intervention). A sharp cast of budding actors and about 50 years of compelling source material isn’t enough to make this excuse for property rights retention a successful reboot.

The film’s storytelling deviates very little from a superhero origin movie, but the pacing of each act warps the framework. The four leads aren’t endowed with their abilities until an hour into the movie and then spend about 10 minutes coming to grips with them. This internal conflict is what typically comprises the meat of an origin movie; it’s this drama that leads the audience to understand where the hero’s moral compass swings and why. This movie quickly shoehorns all of that with a flash-forward that ultimately gets the characters in the perfect position to take on their adversary and learn the value of teamwork. But none of it is as neat and tidy as that sounds.

Credit should be given to director Josh Trank for trying to shake things up, but it couldn’t have gone more wrong. His cast is noticeably younger and atypical to superhero fare, but he can never seem to create any moments of chemistry between them. The problem is that there aren’t enough scenes to develop an understanding of the characters and their dynamic together. Trank handpicked Miles Teller for the role of Reed Richards reportedly against some protests from the studio, but with a better final cut this would have seemed like an ace choice. Teller is awkward yet confident and had there been more dialogue between the characters, he would have come out of this a superstar. Similarly, the designated “fun” character, Johnny Storm played by Michael B. Jordan, trades in the Human Torch's carefree quips for stubborn angst. Jordan is a superb actor who could have portrayed the character’s clash between the opportunity and responsibility of new powers with nuance, but instead he essentially argues and broods the whole time.

If only this "change" could have been for the better. 'Fantastic' largely squanders a huge opportunity. photo: Twentieth Century Fox.

The two most accomplished actors of the group, Kate Mara and Jamie Bell, have barely anything to do at all. Bell, as Ben Grimm aka The Thing, isn’t even a part of the group for two-thirds of the movie. Mara is given about one scene with each character but each with very little substance other than “look, she’s smarter and more mature than them!” The cast list may have been the most exciting part about this movie before its release, but unfortunately Trank and his co-writers Jeremy Slater and Simon Kinberg are unable to convey a meaningful connection between them. 

Trank clearly came into this movie with a different idea of how to approach these characters and in another reality he could have made it work. The transformations are rightfully grotesque and the internal struggle among the four leads could get dark, but it’s not portrayed in a way that stays true to the Fantastic Four. Had there been a stronger emphasis on family as the solution to come to terms with their abilities, this could have been a refreshing take on the superhero genre. Instead it all adds up to a nonsensical mess that demonstrates how terribly a comic can translate to film.