Escape Artist's Top 50 albums of the 21st Century Part 3: The Top Ten

10. Fugazi - The Argument (Dischord, 2001)

As engrossingly ear-splitting as hardcore punk can be, it's a genre that has always been constrained by its limitations. After all, it's hard not to become desensitized, musically and lyrically, when the volume dial is permanently switched to maximum. So a permanent hats off to Ian MacKaye, Guy Picciotto and Fugazi for consistently innovating in a genre that's often rabidly resistant to change.

Fugazi has been on hiatus since 2002, the band keeping busy with other projects and MacKaye industriously beavering away with DIY punk label Dischord and generally performing the duties of a DC punk legend. They did leave us with a rather special gift before dispersing to the four punkwinds*, however. The Argument is one of those rare, great punk albums which functions equally as a right-on, chest-beating pogo marathon and as an armchair chin-stroker. 'Full Disclosure' and 'Epic Problem' offer up anthemic, driving choruses for those looking to lose themselves in the squall, the latter such a dynamic piledrive of stunning riffs and guitar breakdowns that if it hits your headphones on the Tube, you're virtually obligated to make a dick of yourself. But beyond the categories in which we've always known Fugazi excel, The Argument pushes and strains to deliver delights rarely offered on a punk record. The smooth licks and handclaps of 'Life and Limb'; 'The Kill''s strangely detached glimpse into ultranationalism and martyrdom, complete with spooky death-rattle denouement; the dual-drum percussion opening of 'Ex-Spectator'. If hardcore as a genre is held back by the constant need to prove something (whether musical, political or lyrical), then The Argument is a classic precisely because it was made by a band who, after 15 years of keeping the faith, have absolutely nothing left to prove.

*Like normal winds, except if you get too close they'll kick you in the crotch and give you a fierce lecture about how many children lost fingers to make your jeans.

9. Tomahawk - Tomahawk (Ipecac, 2001)

In my MOJO piece on this album, I described ex-Faith No More vocalist Mike Patton as "chameleonic". It's a suitable way of describing Patton's hyperactive genre-skipping, his career taking in thrash metal, hip hop, country, folk, jazz and funk, with Patton's elastic voice stretching itself to fit the mood. But I failed to acknowledge that there's something, whether with FNM, Fantomas, Tomahawk, Mr. Bungle or any of the other multitude of Patton's projects, that ties together his performances. There's always a smokescreen of silliness disguising a hint of murder. The particular strain of silliness deviates between records, from Mr. Bungle's absurdist carnival to the flights of pulp fantasy in evidence throughout Fantomas' discography. But no matter the atmosphere, there's always a snake lurking in the long grass.

A loose concept album, exploring the fetid mind-swamp of an archetypal rural serial killer, Tomahawk is the album where this murderous impulse is truly set loose. With his bandmates (comprising a sort of underground supergroup, with members from The Jesus Lizard, Helmet and The Melvins), Patton employs layers of deranged guitar noise, ambient electronics and mad lyricism to create an atmosphere that plays on the common nightmare of dark cabins in dark woods populated by dark, delusional creatures. On 'Malocchio', frenzied buzzsaw guitars accompany Patton's triumphant beast: "And now that I'm standing, nervous organs dangling from you/ I'm blushing like red roses, the earth is my whorehouse. My zoo." The album was recorded in Nashville and it feels like Tennessee's subtropical humidity has seeped into its bones, with 'Jockstrap' and 'Cul De Sac' providing sneering twists on southern rock and bluegrass respectively. The thing that separates this album from all the other experimental novelties, however, is its evocative musicianship and attention to song structure, making Tomahawk at once disturbing and endlessly listenable.

8. My Morning Jacket, Z (ATO, 2005)

Though I would happily defend 2008's oft-derided Evil Urges with fists if necessary, the inimitable glory of Z remains My Morning Jacket's finest moment so far, which, given the quality of the band's back catalogue, buys it a ticket straight into the top 10. Z guides the listener, hand-in-hand, through the songbook of the American heartland, interpreting the varied guitar-driven movements of the 20th century whilst maintaining MMJ's core identity, guided by principal songwriter Jim James' assured hand. So yes, there are soaring chorus lines ('Anytime'), there is slow-burning windswept rock ('Dondante'), and there's the earnest sense of adventure that has seen the band tunnel its way into our heart sockets over the last decade. But we always knew the band could pulverise in that arena. Z introduced us to all the things we had no idea MMJ could do. We had no idea they could execute R 'n' B and Caribbean rhythm so effortlessly as they do on opening tracks 'Wordless Chorus' and 'It Beats 4 U', for a start. And breakout single 'Off The Record' might begin in fertile James territory, all chugging guitars and catchy rhythm, but then it takes an inspired left turn into an extended breakdown that evokes the best of the British psychedelic wig-out and 70s French synth-pop.

So Z extended the band's range and paved the way for Evil Urges' grand experiment whilst managing to be the most concise and economic expression of My Morning Jacket's appeal. And it managed these grand accomplishments without sacrificing any of those classic MMJ moments that fans have come to know, love, and bloody well expect.

Side note: We did it! We got through an entire retrospective review of Z without once mentioning the band's "comfort zone"! Somebody grab the champagne, we're hitting the town tonight!

7. Roots Manuva - Slime & Reason (Big Dada, 2008)

UK hip hop is in rude health today, but 10 or 15 years ago it was floundering in the garage doldrums, suffocated by slicker, more marketable US releases. At a time when the game was pushing the underground out, the British scene reacted by changing the rules. Ditching huge production costs and prioritising artistic vision over courting the charts, UK underground hip hop embraced its own grim version of electronic music, spawning a fertile breeding ground that takes in grime, dubstep, dancehall and above all an almost fetishistic worship of the bassline. Stockwell MC/producer Roots Manuva's Run Come Save Me (not to mention his debut Brand New Second Hand, released in 1999) felt like the first broadside in the British assault. In a genre with such a predilection for aggrandising the drama of working class life, Manuva's revelling in the inanities of life was a refreshing shift towards the ugly truth.

Run Come Save Me was a landmark record anchored by one of the finest hip hop cuts found anywhere ('Witness (1 Hope)'), but Brigadier Smythe improves every time out of the gates, and 2008's Slime & Reason is hands-down his finest work. Manuva's flirtation with dancehall and ragga evolved into a full-blown romance on Slime & Reason, popping out vivid party babies like 'Buff Nuff', 'Do Nah Bodda Mi' and 'Again & Again'. But in between there are refined echoes of the lyrical and musical heaviness on show on 2005's Awfully Deep, delving into broken homes ('The Show Must Go On'), misguided, betrayed youth ('It's Me Oh Lord') and Manuva's ambiguous relationship with God previously explored in 2001 on 'Sinny Sin Sins' (revisited on 'Let The Spirit'). Roots Manuva typifies the rebellious microcosm that's flourishing in London, embracing its own unique heritage and flying in the face of American hip hop's received wisdom. After all, if you can't beat 'em, fuck 'em.

Side note: I once met Roots Manuva on a train at Surbiton. He was nice. I almost pissed myself. Also, the reason I rambled on so much about the British scene and Run Come Save Me is that I wrote a fairly lengthy review of Slime & Reason for Londoners and didn't want to repeat myself. So for a more in-depth, track-by-track affair, check out my review.

6. The Hold Steady - Boys and Girls in America (Vagrant, 2006)

From the first chiming chords of epic opener 'Stuck Between Stations', The Hold Steady's third record hits you look like an ice-cold bucket of distilled awesome. That's not in question. Shredding through 11 tracks of warm, welcoming rock 'n' roll that definitively answers the question of what would happen if Springsteen had he been born 15 years later and joined The Replacements*, Boys & Girls... sees a great, tight rock 'n' roll band at their greatest and tightest. The likes of 'Massive Nights', 'Hot Soft Light' and 'Chips Ahoy!' are musclebound fist-pumpers executed with such conviction and musicianship (replete with exquisite 'whoa whoaaaa' choruses) that it's little surprise that the band owns live venues on a nightly basis.

That's what makes Boys & Girls an excellent record. What makes it a classic is that, beyond the exultation of the first few spins, it continues to reward the listener over months and years. Craig Finn's distinctive vocals, delivering dense reams of prose in a husky half-shout, are the heart and soul of the album, giving the driving riffs meaning and context and elevating them from simple feel-goodery. Much has been made of Finn's literary references, but his lyrics are far more than a list of look-what-I've-read pomp - they're actually refreshingly direct, charting the highs and lows of a cast of fresh-faced young invincibles over a span of half-remembered nights out. Finn creates incredibly poignant vignettes of the young and foolish, bringing a poetry to youthful abandon that never loses sight of the painful difference between the drug-enhanced fantasy and the stark reality of the morning after.

A party album that refuses to forget the resulting hangover, Boys & Girls... mirrors the bittersweet house party experience, providing the initial rush with epic guitar riffs and rousing choruses, then echoing the gradual comedown and dawn paranoia with frontman Craig Finn's studied, lacerating lyrics.

*Let's start a new literary trend of alternative-history music biographies, starting with a story that presupposes Henry Rollins became principal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra in the late 80s. Publishers - call me!

5. Erykah Badu - New Amerykah Part One (4th World War) (Universal Motown, 2008)

For most artists, there's a natural barrier between the imagination and the final work. It's the barrier of reality and pragmatism that gradually dilutes that pure vision that exists in the head before outside logic steps in to explain what can and can't be done, to reconstruct and compromise. It's the barrier that all true artists are trying to overcome.

Never has an album sounded so pure of vision than Erykah Badu's New Amerykah. Its 11 tracks take us on an unsupervised, unfiltered tour of Badu's firing synapses and zipping neurons; her lyrics come in hoarse flows that seem to catch melodies incidentally, as if the listener has suddenly become privy to the rhymes Badu whispers to herself when no one's listening. Musically, it's her most varied and fearless album to date, taking in vintage funk samples ('Amerykahn Promise'), neo-jazz ('Telephone'), beat-driven electronic elegance ('The Healer') and caustic hip hop ('The Cell'). But while she collaborated with a host of producers (Madlib, 9th Wonder, various members of the Sa-Ra collective), it's Badu's serene, towering presence that infuses the record through that sensual voice. Her lyrics are an immersive mix of personal, political and spiritual, whether making a case for the all-consuming power of hip hop on 'The Healer', stepping in to the role of resistance leader on 'My People' or lamenting the ravages of drugs on 'The Cell' and 'That Hump'. As is fitting for an album that plays like a direct wiretap into Badu's brain, each track finds her in a different mood or adopting a different persona. On 'Me' we find her contented and matronly, accepting all sides of her being: "Everything around you see/ the Ankhs the wraps the plus degrees/ And yes even the mystery...it's all me". On 'Soldier' she's a zealous firebrand in full-flight, ready to "keep marchin on/ Till we hear that freedom song/ And if you think about turnin back/ I got the shot gun for your back". Perhaps most poignant is her emotional address to lost friend J Dilla on 'Telephone': "Just fly away to heaven, brother/ make a place for me brother". It's a vulnerable, hopeful moment on an record that lays bear an artist's life and soul - a record that demands, and deserves, our full attention.

4. At the Drive-In - Relationship of Command (Grand Royal, 2000)

At some point (usually somewhere around hour three of the Great Led Zep Discussion at age 16), most music geeks get to mentioning "rock 'n' roll alchemy" - that indefinable magic that turns a collection of synchronised components into so much more than the sum of its parts. It's what makes great bands great, and it's the reason that the break-up of At The Drive-In, mere months after discovering their own alchemical miracle with third album Relationship of Command, is such a tragedy. It was all inevitable, of course, with Class As, fracturing creativities and non-stop tour exhaustion all playing their parts in the slow-burn car crash. Not to mention At the Drive-In had to live with the paradox of being determinedly against slam-dancing at shows whilst playing the most unleashed brand of post-hardcore passion that anyone had heard in years. The band now reside in two separate groups (The Mars Volta and Sparta), both excellent but neither quite harnessing the magic that poured out of them via At the Drive-In.

But better to break-up after writing your best album than before, I suppose. And we'll always have Relationship of Command to cradle us through the nights of sobbing and soundtrack our fantasies of (long-rumoured, still unlikely) reunion. ATD-I's best album is simply a force of nature, a maelstrom of guitars and electric energy that must be heard to be believed. From the opening rattlesnake salvo of 'Arcarsenal', the listener is delivered a tsunami-force ultimatum: come with us, or be left behind. Those willing to let go and ride the hurricane are hit with a sonic barrage that rarely lets up (and then only to heighten the next detonation). Vocalist Cedric Bixler (now Cedric Bixler-Zavala) punctuates the whirlwind with intoxicating (and nigh-impenetrable) lyricism covering drug addiction, intercontinental tension, oppression and alien-infested space stations. His wordplay is engaging ("Paramedics fell into the wound like rehired scabs at a barehanded plant, an anaesthetic penance beneath the hail of contraband" is a line worthy of the finest imaginations), but it's his wild, unstudied delivery that ensures every line resonates on a gut level. We might never know the specifics, but Bixler's final words on striding epic 'Quarantined' feel appropriate both as an exploration of the creative process and a suitable epitaph for a band that exploded so brightly at the turn of the century: "A single spark can start a spectral fire".

3. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago (Jagjaguwar/4AD, 2008)

Anyone who has shown even a passing interest in Justin Vernon's Bon Iver will be aware of the circumstances of For Emma, Forever Ago's recording, which has by now been indelibly inscribed in the annals of folk history. Vernon, following the break-up of his previous band (DeYarmond Edison) and the disintegration of a relationship, still weak from the after-effects of glandular fever, retreated to a remote cabin in the wilds of his native Wisconsin to convalesce. While there, he recorded a set of songs that mixed reflections on relationships past with the wintry natural imagery around him.

I'm usually happy to largely divorce albums from the circumstances of their creation (it seems to encourage a myth-making process that prioritises the cult of personality over music), but in this case the background informs the shape of the songs to such a great extent that it's impossible. Because For Emma, Forever Ago is essentially a one-man therapy session, scored by an unspeakably beautiful guitar/voice interplay and the spectral presence of the forest outside. Through the nine tracks we catch glimpses of his emotional recovery, from the pained remembrance of a lost love on album opener 'Flume' ("Sky is womb and she's the moon"), through the exquisite torture of 'The Wolves (Act I and II)', on which the climactic, clattering percussion might bring to mind Vernon's gibbering demons scratching at the walls of the cabin as he intones a protective mantra in an attempt to keep them out ("What might have been lost - don't bother me"). Throughout, Vernon employs his stunning falsetto, often double-tracked to add texture, as an accompanying instrument as much as a conveyer of words. By the time we reach the serene beauty of final track 're: stacks', Vernon seems to have reached a resolution to cast off grief and live happy in the knowledge that past love is no less real, as long as it's remembered: "This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realisation/ It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away/ Your love will be/ Safe with me."

2. Deftones - White Pony (Maverick, 2000)

White Pony was the moment that Deftones definitively cast off any nu-metal affiliations (which were always a nonsense - the band so quickly outpaced the nu-metal fraternity that they were probably the first to bang the final nail in that ugly genre's coffin) and effectively rendered any categorisation of the band's sound moot. They're simply Deftones, existing defiantly apart from heavy metal, in a league of their own creation.

Not that they're incapable of liquifying a listener's internal organs with pure molten ferocity. 'Elite' is one of the most vicious metal tracks in existence, Steph Carpenter's guitar shredding at a merciless pace behind Chino Moreno's howling vocals ("When you're ripe/ You'll bleed out of control"). What elevates White Pony from mere sound and fury is a sense of musical and lyrical freedom that often flies in the face of genre expectation (much to the chagrin of the lapsed Deftones fans that never really got them in the first place). 'Teenager', for instance, is a polar counterpoint to the murderous rage of 'Elite', a swaying beat accompanied by a soft Spanish guitar arpeggio and DJ Frank Delgado's ambient electronics. And, somehow, it's still just as much Deftones.

The album, and the band in general, is filled with pleasing paradoxes. But the strange truth is that Deftones are proudly Romantic with a capital R, an updated artery of Gothic literature, melding music and words to revel in the little details. Moreno's lyrics are far more interested in evoking mood than meticulously detailing scenes. And the mood on White Pony is overwhelmingly sexual - even the album's title refers to a dream that supposedly represents sexual discovery. 'Feiticeira' and 'Passenger' form a thematic duo that place characters in cars (one in the back seat, one tied up in the trunk), basking in an imperious sensual energy. It all culminates on lead single 'Change (In the House of Flies)', with its explosive chorus mirroring the thunderous physical metamorphosis described by Moreno: "I watched you change/ It's like you never/ Had wings". As an album, White Pony remains a stunningly complete and shockingly overlooked work of art.

1. Arcade Fire - Funeral (Merge, 2004)

Arcade Fire are a pretty unique proposition, having produced two albums that both deserve consideration as the very best this luminescent century have offered up so far. Both Funeral and 2007 follow-up Neon Bible are unmistakeably conjoined by Arcade Fire's distinctive orchestral arrangement, but separated by the very different atmospheres they create. While Funeral turns grief and recovery into a communal experience, a flowering human fireworks display, Neon Bible takes those melodramatic concepts and places them in a dark vacuum. While the overriding image on listening to Funeral is the emotional hustle and bustle of the masses crammed on top of one another in rows of tenement buildings, Neon Bible brings to mind apocalyptic chanting coming from a lonely barn on a stormy plain at night, far from anywhere.

Although I was tempted to issue a massive "fuck you" to my own rules and crown these two albums as joint champions (especially as they work so well as distorted reflections of each other), I finally had to grow a pair and declare Funeral, Arcade Fire's first epic transmission to the world, my favourite album of the decade. It was the defining album to stray from the Strokes/Interpol trend of lyrical detachment and austere guitars to unabashedly adopt grand emotion and sweeping scope. Since then, many bands have attempted to make such lofty gestures, but none have come close to reaching the sumptuous embrace that Arcade Fire achieved on Funeral.

And what a warm embrace it is. Funeral might have been named on account of the spate of family deaths that the band experienced while recording the album, but this music is anything but funereal. It's a celebration, despite Win Butler and Regine Chassagne's lyrical exploration of the dark recesses of grief and self-deception. Opener 'Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)' is a piano-led slow-burner, culminating in an invigorating guitar/piano freakout and Pixies-esque vocal harmonies. In fact, a large proportion of tracks, notably 'Wake Up' and 'Rebellion (Lies)' end with an extended joyous sing-a-long, accompanied by the band's full range of instruments, including strings, horns, organ, accordion and added percussion. If this album's a funeral, it is undoubtedly in the grand gospel/South American tradition of expressing jubilance for the possibilities of life rather than commiserating the inevitability of death.

'Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)' is the towering centrepiece that crystallises the album's themes and sets the band's musical template. A roaring central riff never slows throughout the song, softening only to be pierced by triumphantly chiming glockenspiel. In using the concept of a power outage to explore the idea of a young generation desperately trying to reignite a fire on which their parents have long since given up ("And the power's out in the heart of man; take it from your heart, put it in your hand"), 'Power Out' also sets out Funeral's manifesto - a passionate expression of the tiny cries of human suffering and joy, ultimately washed away by the enormous clatter of the big picture. While it's always depressing to reflect on the utter insignificance of our lives, Arcade Fire make such a joyously melodic racket that, for all its emotional brutality, Funeral ultimately picks us up, dusts us off and warmly invites us to dance the darkness away.

Escape Artist's Top 50 Albums of the 21st Century Part 2: 30-11

30. Interpol - Our Love To Admire (Capitol, 2007)

Our Love To Admire, Interpol's third album, might contain few tracks to rival the instant ear-grabbing spectacle of the likes of 'PDA' and 'Evil', but after several years of re-listens, the record stands on firmer legs than either of its predecessors against the test of time. Distancing themselves from the dense, anthemic leanings that always drew uncomfortable comparisons with late 70s/early 80s post-punk, Interpol here fully embrace the cold, statuesque songcraft that had previously felt like a calling card the band were hesitant to slip into their collective jacket pocket. The songs are impressive as much for the silences as for the sounds, considered riffs expanding and contracting to achieve that highly calculated impact. That might sound artificial, but album closer 'The Lighthouse' proves that Interpol are never better than when they're softly reeling you in for the knockout blow.

29. Les Savy Fav - Let's Stay Friends (Frenchkiss, 2007)

You know we live in a topsy-turvy world when a band of thirtysomethings can create a sound that's one of this decade's finest blueprints for being young and free. For fifteen years, Les Savy Fav have been innovating the shit out of the art-rock/post-hardcore genres. The band has spent its whole career speeding like a flaming unicorn through styles before moving on to something new and exciting while the scenesters jump on the bandwagon they've left behind and make all the dough. As is proclaimed loud and proud on the band's website: "Missing out on cashing in for over a decade". Let's Stay Friends, LSF's fourth full-length, was worth the six-year wait for fans - a riotous flight of driving guitars and pounding drums with enough whimsy and flair mixed in to upset its punk template. It's a set that puts two fingers up to restraint and dives into songs with gleeful abandon, from the unforgettable, granite-splitting beat of 'Patty Lee' to 'What Would Wolves Do?', which should be mandatory listening for directionless and discouraged youth. Hopefully we won't have to wait another six years for their next album, as 'Pots & Pans' lays out an optimistic vision of the world's Savy future: "Let's tear this whole place down and build it up again/ This band's a beating heart and it's nowhere near its end".

28. Drive-By Truckers - Brighter Than Creation's Dark (New West, 2008)

Three principal songwriters; three guitarists; a broad southern rock/alt-country remit that encompasses a wide range of lyrical moods and musical textures. It's a recipe for a bit of a jam-band disaster, isn't it? And, honestly, Drive-By Truckers, whilst boasting an astonishing talent pool, have often struggled in the past to cram their sheer range into one unified album. They nailed it on Brighter..., though. The duelling vocals and styles of core trio Patterson Hood, Mike Cooley and Shonna Tucker undertake a pretty exhaustive exploration of the best and worst of the Southern spirit (always the Truckers' prime preoccupation), tackling different topics at different tempos, gradually building up an affecting, Springsteen-esque tableau of desperation and humour, triumph and despair.

27. Ben Folds - Rockin' The Suburbs (Epic, 2001)

September 11th, 2001. A tough old release date, that. Especially when you're seen as piano pop's clown prince. Luckily, Folds made a concerted move away from the wise-cracking schtick for his debut solo album (with the notable exception of the title track which, to be fair, is pretty funny) to create a sincere, open-hearted glimpse into middle-class American suburbia. The album's tone and quality is remarkably consistent, pumping out insistent piano-led pop numbers interspersed with emotionally resonant ballads, the redundancy-blues of 'Fred Jones Part 2' being a particular highlight of the latter. Rockin' The Suburbs remains a potent reminder of the heights Folds can scale when he goes for the heart-strings rather than the funnybone.

26. The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots (Warner Bros, 2002)

A continuation of the emotional directness and musical immediacy they so deftly delivered with 1999 masterpiece The Soft Bulletin, Yoshimi is another record by Wayne Coyne and the Lips that grows and grows as repeated listens mesh the music with the listener's imagination. In fact, 'imaginative pop' might be the best description I can come up with to describe Yoshimi (and the wider Lips catalogue). At its heart, the band's tenth release is gloriously naive guitar pop, buoyed by subtle experimentation and anchored by Coyne's unaffected vocal delivery. Screw it, I'll just come out and say it. Wayne Coyne for President.

25. The National - Boxer (Beggars Banquet, 2007)

With 2005's breakthrough Alligator and now Boxer, The National's albums seem to have garnered a reputation as 'growers'. This refers to the tendency for the songs to keep giving over repeated listens, but that shouldn't preclude praise for the immediate impact of the band's bassy intensity and vocalist Matt Berninger's beaten-down, baritone lyricism. I still remember being hit square in the chops by the opening piano chords of Boxer's opener 'Fake Empire'. Throughout the album's 12 tracks, there's such an abundance of melodic guitar/piano interplay and rousing choruses that it's a wonder the BBC hasn't snapped up more National songs to soundtrack emotionally-exploitative montages for its nature docs. Special mention should also go to Bryan Devendorf's superb drumming, which often plays with audience expectations but is always brawny enough to give tracks that essential desk-tapping quality.

24. Sufjan Stevens - Illinois (Rough Trade, 2005)

It's the Sufjan Stevens that you know and love, but more!! Bigger!! Louder!! Longer!! Convoluted song titles!! Exclamation marks!! The second album (after 2003's Michigan) in Stevens' grand, surely-never-to-be-completed project to dedicate an album to each of America's states might seem like a novelty curio, but even on cursory first listen, it's immediately clear that this is a definitive masterpiece and his best work so far. 22 tracks filled to the brim with orchestral swirls, vibrant arrangements and a palpable sense of romance. Stevens draws from the renowned figures, features and musical styles of Illinois, channeling them through his own unique lens to craft an album that is by turns intimate and overwhelmingly vast.

23. Dinosaur Jr - Beyond (Fat Possum, 2007)

Dinosaur Jr didn't have a good 90s. After cementing themselves in the upper strata of the late 80s US alt-rock scene with You're Living All Over Me and Bug, the band's core duo J Mascis and Lou Barlow fell out over Mascis' control freakery, leading to Barlow's departure and the subsequent ten years of diminishing returns on a major label before Mascis euthanised the Dinosaur Jr monicker like some half-starved street dog in 1997. It would have been an ignominious end for such a great band. Luckily, Barlow and Mascis finally put their handbags down in 2005 and set to work on a new record. The triumph of Beyond, therefore, is that the original line-up was able to recapture the fire after over 20 years of huffily ignoring each other. The album takes the best from those original records, as well as Mascis' more structured 90s work, to create a set that sounds as noisy and vital as the early days but incorporating the lessons Mascis and Barlow had learned during their long interim. The result is classic rock song structure played at punk volumes, and arguably the purest distillation of that Dino Jr sound. Clearly Barlow, Mascis and drummer Murph realised that despite the recriminations, they had unfinished business together. And against all odds, it was worth the wait.

22. The White Stripes - White Blood Cells (XL, 2001)

White Blood Cells signaled the moment that Jack and Meg White exploded on to the mainstream music scene, with frantic, drooling write-ups in the music press rapidly degenerating into Heat-esque speculation on the duo's relationship. But their stadium-sized leap into the world's frontal lobes didn't come as a result of a slickly-produced update of their scuzzy garage-rock. All they had to do was write their best and catchiest record to date. Simple. The central riff of 'Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground' simply rocks on a life-changing level; 'Fell in Love with a Girl' has a feverish, deranged feel that perfectly echoes its theme of reckless young lust; 'Offend In Every Way' is giddy mix of early Kinks and Ennio Morricone. The album succeeds so effortlessly because it digests elements of rock 'n' roll from the past forty years whilst never surrendering its own jagged Detroit identity. Also, little known legal fact: if someone nonchalantly announces to you that Meg White's drumming sucks, you have a legal right - nay, obligation - to knock every tooth out of their stupid ignorant face.

21. Dizzee Rascal - Boy In Da Corner (XL, 2003)

In an age when rap has become the new pop and toothless, self-satisfied turd-wranglers rule the charts on both sides of the Atlantic, it's heartening, not to mention utterly necessary, to focus on hip hop's innovators and street gladiators who choose ugly reality over vapid fantasy. Boy In Da Corner is still a titanic record by one of this broad genre's finest talents. It's the record that introduced most of us to Dizzee's scattergun vocal delivery, the MC skipping from bravado ('Fix Up, Look Sharp'; 'Jus A Rascal') to bruised vulnerability ('Sittin' Here'; 'Brand New Day') to gritty street-level observation ('I Luv U') with a hyperactive, breathless pace. The beats are just as special, Rascal and Cage stitching grime/garage/dancehall/rock samples together to create a dexterous collage of sounds that feels authentically scavenged from Bow's clubs and pavements. Despite Dizzee's recent concessions to the T4 crowd, he delivers every time on his LPs, and even if the future sees him seduced by the fame game, we'll always have Boy In Da Corner.

20. Kings Of Leon - Aha Shake Heartbreak (HandMeDown, 2004)

Is it possible to recall Kings Of Leon pre-'Sex On Fire'? It's all a little hazy at this point. Well, there was that first album all the way back in 2003, which was pretty good, if a little unassuming and light on ambition. Oh wait, then there was Aha Shake Heartbreak, otherwise known as the album with which KOL quietly stole our hearts and unzipped our girlfriends' jeans. Displaying a deftness of touch that seemed to surprise us all, the album alternates between barn-dance guitar ruckus('The Bucket'; 'Taper Jean Girl') and gentle Nashville lullabies ('King of the Rodeo'; 'Milk'), all infused with the sweaty sexual energy that the Followills had so clearly been exercising on the Youth And Young Manhood tour.

19. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Abbatoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus (Mute, 2004)

A singularly tough task to pick from Nick Cave's clutch of 21st century opuses (opae?). I was especially tempted to give 2001's No More Shall We Part a glowing recommendation, given the insistence of some writers to reduce that masterpiece to evidence of Cave's old-age softness and "domestic contentment". Still, being the established mathematician that I am, unswerving logic led me to believe that a Nick Cave double album must trump a Nick Cave non-double album. There are other reasons too, though - the fact that it's a perfect summation of a broad and varied career; that Cave's lyrics mix traditional, beauteous sentence structure with anarchic savagery and back-of-the-pub lewdness; that it's Cave's most orchestral, epic work, filled with strings and choirs and guitars and whirling Wurlitzers.

18. TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain (4AD, 2006)

Three superb studio albums in and it seems there's no stopping TV On The Radio. Sophomore release Return To Cookie Mountain is the star of a very fine litter, a beguiling combination of Desperate Youth's ethereal mystery and Dear Science's dense sound-squalls. Speaking of treading fine lines, the album also expertly charts a midway course between scratchy experimentalism and the immediacy of the head-nodding beats. For that, we can thank producer/sampler/multi-instrumentalist Dave Sitek and drummer Jaleel Bunton. Meanwhile we can thank Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone for the exquisite, powerful vocal harmonies which deliver colourful and evocative lyrics, particularly on single 'Wolf Like Me', which re-casts the lusty male as lycanthropic emotional predator. TVOTR have inherited David Bowie's mantle as the prime purveyors of thinking people's party music. Bowie's vocal contribution to 'Province' may even have served as the inauguration ceremony.

17. Desaparecidos - Read Music/Speak Spanish (Saddle Creek, 2002)

I'm sorry, I can't help it. I don't like Bright Eyes that much. Given that my favourite Bright Eyes album is the much-maligned electronic jaunt Digital Ash In A Digital Urn, it seems I belong to the deformed demographic that prefers the music Conor Oberst plucks out of his butt while resting from his last proper album. With that in mind, I present to you Read Music/Speak Spanish, the first and only album by Desaparecidos, Oberst's collaboration with fellow Omaha songwriter Denver Dalley. Recorded in a week, this raw slice of post-hardcore is a product of Oberst's words and Dalley's powerchords, coming off like a more cerebral Replacements or a meatier Get Up Kids. Elevating the riffery is the bristling anger and surgical insight of Oberst's lyrics, which frantically scratch at the scabs of middle-American cash culture.

Side-note: Read Music/Speak Spanish was the subject of possibly the worst music review I've ever read, in which the writer (for the now-defunct Stylus) spends the first half of the piece comprehensively pointing out all the reasons he should never have been chosen to review the album in the first place.

16. The Besnard Lakes - ...Are The Dark Horse (Jagjaguwar, 2007)

I am as yet unconverted to the genius of Pink Floyd, being that I tend to fall asleep several minutes into each track. As such, I wasn't expecting to fall in love with Canadian duo The Besnard Lakes' second album, which shares a lot of similarities with the languorous psych-rock and prog of the 70s. But ...Are The Dark Horse made me realise that my stumbling block with Floyd isn't a matter of track length or pacing, but aesthetics. I could (and frequently do) listen to the slowly-unfolding beauty of The Besnard Lakes all day. The eight songs (with the exception of 'Devastation', which rocks like almighty fuckery from beginning to end) lull the listener into a hazy rapture by gracefully hiding in shadow before erupting into Technicolour splendour. Album opener 'Disaster' is a particular highlight - I have long harboured the irrational belief that this track should be played at Brian Wilson's funeral, with or without his consent.

15. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (ANTI-, 2007)

Lean and streamlined like a rock 'n' roll greyhound (seems they used up all their self-indulgence with the album title), Spoon's sixth album is 36 minutes stripped of pomp and frivolity, each song poised to attack. As first track 'Don't Make Me A Target' proves, the essence of Spoon is in the complex interplay of seemingly simple guitar and drum parts, the band exploring all the ways they can play around with and distort a central riff. But streamlining doesn't mean Britt Daniel and co. don't make room for experimentation. On 'The Ghost Of You Lingers', a simple lovelorn sense of longing becomes a spectral masterpiece through pounding piano, static intrusion and Daniel's distant, echoing vocal refrain.

14. The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema (Matador, 2005)

Aah, sweet melodies. Sometimes they don't have to be subverted, reconstructed or experimented on. Sometimes they just have to be fucking sweet. In 2005, accredited melody-meister AC Newman and his army of superstar collaborators (including Neko Case and Destroyer's Daniel Bejar) created a soul-affirming paean to the rippling joy of the unreconstructed hook and the rousing sing-a-long chorus. In the interest of me not repeating myself, check out the Disc Of The Day review I wrote for the MOJO website a couple of years ago for all the adjectives you can eat.

13. Rival Schools - United By Fate (Island, 2001)

Rival Schools might have only brought us one album in their short lifetime as a band, but United By Fate crams in enough rampant riffing to be a meal that replenishes itself every time you come back to it. There's enough sting in the album's tail to hark back to Walter Schreifels and the rest of the band's hardcore punk legacy, but it's mollified by a new sense of soaring melody and a varied pace that makes those fat slabs of guitar noise all the more satisfying when they drop. This is another of the three albums on this list for which I did a write-up for MOJO - have a read, if you're not into the whole brevity thing.

Side note for fact fans: the band and the album took their names from Capcom's Playstation brawler Rival Schools: United By Fate. And people say videogames can't inform wider culture. Tsk.

12. Jay-Z - The Black Album (Roc-A-Fella, 2003)

A massively-hyped album (remember all that guff about it being Jay-Z's last record?) that managed to leave a rabidly expectant fanbase satisfied like happy fat little babies, The Black Album feels like a pretty definitive exclamation mark for Jay's career and the East Coast rap scene in general. From the breezy jazz of single 'Change Clothes' to autobiographical document 'December 4th', the man is on top of his flow on every track. Even more impressive is the way that he marshals the talents of an army of producers and collaborators, incorporating their styles without compromising the unity of the album. Eminem's brooding style shines through on the chorus of 'Moment of Clarity'; '99 Problems' and 'Dirt Off Your Shoulder' are laced with Rick Rubin and Timbaland respectively, but all tracks here are firmly under Jay-Z's bootheel, partly because he made the wise decision to hog the mic, ensuring that it's his voice and his vision that comes through clearest.

11. M83 - Saturdays = Youth (Mute, 2008)

If you're going to name your band after a spiral galaxy (Messier 83), you better make sure your music makes a fair reach for the stars, and that your reach doesn't exceed your grasp. Neither of these are a problem for Anthony Gonzales, who as M83 has been pouring pure dream pop into the world like some benevolent white witch for the last 10 years. All of his five albums resonate on some deep romantic level, filled with giddy synths and swelling arrangements, but 2008's Saturdays = Youth seems to have a particular pull for wistful modernites, harking back to an entirely made-up 1980s American golden youth that we've been mythologising ever since the 90s got boring, with John Hughes' (RIP) The Breakfast Club as a new Sacred Text. It's a painfully beautiful record that's filled with the kind of adolescent ache that would seem so easy to romanticise, but is so rarely done well.

COMING SOON - The top ten! Featuring: Two albums with America in the title! Nasty music! Nice music! Alphabetical extremities! Sinny sin sins! Boys! And Girls!

Click here for the first part of the countdown - 50-31

Escape Artist's Top 50 Albums of the 21st Century: 50-31

It's easy to look back on decades past and identify neat trends. The 60s was swingin'; the 70s was the disco-addled hangover fuelling the rise of a new kind of angry music; the 80s was the birth of the electropop template still recycled like cheap beer bottles today; the 90s was the earnestness of grunge and its gradual diminishment in the face of popular club culture. These trends are all accurate enough, but never tell the whole story. This is mostly because the whole story is near-impossible to tell.

This list, presented in three parts, shows no neat trends to catalogue the story of music in the past decade. Neither can it tell the whole story. Really, it's just an unwieldy, inelegant list of honest favourites written by someone possessing an impractically wide and naive taste in music.

A quick note - clearly music is subjective, and as such this list makes no attempt to chart the most significant or important records of the decade. I've picked these albums based on two criteria - that I loved them when I first heard them, and that I still love them and feel certain I will continue to love them until they bury my crusty bones. In that sense, the albums are timeless, but not necessarily to you. If you disagree, feel free to comment below. And then go make your own goddamned list.

50. DJ Format - Music For The Mature B-Boy (Genuine, 2003)

The antithesis of gangster rap's accesorized overcompensation that has led to the descent into self-parody of many a great rapper (heard any Snoop Dogg songs recently? Jesus.), Music... is a breezy set of beats that emphasises lyrical playfulness over brash self-regard. Regular DJ Format collaborator Abdominal is a particular highlight, who on album opener 'Ill Culinary Behaviour' casts the MC and the DJ as a fussy couple slaving over beats and rhymes for their dinner party guests.

49. Silver Jews - Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea (Drag City, 2008)

The wry humour of baritone raconteur David Berman has always made up a major component of Silver Jews' sound, but Lookout Mountain... couples Berman's intricate narratives with a lighter sound that veers from chirpy bluegrass to classic rock via the kind of blues that you hear played by old, tired men in old, tired bars. The best kind.

48. Rachel Unthank and the Winterset - The Bairns (Rabble Rouser, 2007)

On an album that feels as much like historical document as English folk record, The Unthanks (as they're now known) interpret old northern ditties and tavern sing-a-longs with a passion and verve that defies the dryness of the initial concept. Especially engaging are the songs that paint a picture of the untold stories of women in centuries past, whether it's waiting on the pier for the return of husbands and sons stolen by the Royal Navy on 'Blue's Gaen Out Oot O'The Fashion' or rebelling against an abusive husband in the only way possible on 'Blue Bleezing Blind Drunk'.

47. Fucked Up - The Chemistry Of Common Life (Matador, 2008)

From the moment that album opener 'Son The Father' explodes into a fiery ball of atomic energy about a minute in, you know that Chemistry... is a hardcore album that's perfectly capable of bending you over and fucking you in the ears. The guitar sound, achieved through overdubbing guitar tracks again and again, is simply massive, especially on nihilist anthem 'No Epiphany'. But read the sleeve notes and you'll see that vocalist Pink Eyes' indecipherable grunts actually represents words. And what wonderful words they are, tackling the science and wonder that drives the world.

46. Bill Callahan - Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle (Drag City, 2009)

Emerging from Smog’s dark cloud with the second album released under his own name, Callahan here is reflective but ultimately sanguine. The album’s true charm lies in the indescribable chemistry between the simple, folksy strings and Callahan’s husky baritone. The lyrics are never less than engaging, a particular highlight being 'All Thoughts Are Prey To Some Beast', which turns psychological turmoil into a compelling natural metaphor.

45. Jay Reatard - Blood Visions (In The Red, 2006)

Although Jay Reatard died last year at the tender age of 29, we can take a little solace from the fact that he was one of last decade's most brilliant and prolific songwriters, building up a songbook in ten years that would be the envy of most musicians on their deathbeds. He also, knowingly or not, spearheaded a revitalised wave of 21st century American punk rock that's more about the unpretentious shared euphoria of loud music played live than political protest. 2006's Blood Visions might be the purest distillation of his wandering spirit - 15 tracks of adrenaline-fuelled melody and distortion, equal parts relentless speed and enduring heart. The album is the perfect introduction to Reatard's signature jagged style, with ample deviations to break the tempo, such as the toe-curlingly thrilling guitar breakdown at the end of 'Oh It's Such A Shame'.

44. Bruce Springsteen - Magic (Columbia, 2007)

When rock stars as monumental as Bruce Springsteen enter into their fourth decade of recording music, there's an unspoken expectation that they'll settle down into a statesmanlike routine of dignified, wordy albums which tell stories and express their socio-political beliefs before they croak and miss their chance. This is a pattern that Springsteen has (Devils And Dust notwithstanding) brazenly defied, never more so than on Magic, the joyous reunion of The Boss and his happy employees the E-Street Band, on which he struts like he did in the 80s, covering the disillusionment and melancholia of the lyrics with the fiery gusto of rock 'n' roll's Duracell icon.

43. Iron & Wine - The Creek Drank The Cradle (Sub Pop, 2002)

While Sam Beam has very successfully added a band and a fuller sound to his folk repertoire in the years between this 2002 release and today, his songs have never been more quietly devastating than on his first full-length album. Each track has a lo-fi, handcrafted quality; the crackle of home recording gives the songs a rustic prettiness that belies the attention paid to song structure and lyrics, which have the purity of expression and timelessness to ensure Beam's place in the hallowed halls of great acoustic songwriters.

42. Metric - Fantasies (Metric Music International, 2009)

A tough call between the warmth of Fantasies and the sterile paranoia of 2005's Live It Out, but warmth tends to win out with me. Fantasies was a startling move towards the mainstream for Emily Haines and co., but one that felt like natural musical progression rather than lusty land-grab. And who knew they'd do arena rock so well? Every moment of the album's stripped-down ten tracks is stuffed to the gills with pulsing guitars and dynamic electronics, making this one of the danciest, most compulsive rock albums of recent years. Tracks like 'Gold Guns Girls' and 'Gimme Sympathy' deserve to be pulverising stadiums.

41. Tool, Lateralus (Volcano, 2001)

Down to its very bones, Lateralus is a record for musical obsessives and audiophile geeks. Even more so than all their other albums. Its 79 minutes are greasy with the fingerprints of near infinite tinkering, a bad sign for most albums, especially those with 10 minute tracks. Fortunately, the overwhelming musicianship of one of prog-metal's most gifted groups simply crushes any concerns about excessive fiddliness. Intricacy is the point of Tool, and they have the talent to pull it off like no other band, from Maynard James Keenan's mountain-moving vocals to Adam Jones' rich layers of guitar. Oh, and you'll struggle to find better drumming on any album, ever. Just listen to album opener 'The Grudge' and put a pillow beneath you for when your jaw drops.

40. The Stills, Logic Will Break Your Heart (Vice, 2003)

Understated and underrated, The Stills' debut album mixes anthemic songcraft with a lyrical atmosphere of crippling anxiety. On 'Lola Stars And Stripes', for example, a wall of guitars shimmers and sparkles while frontman Tim Fletcher bunkers down in anticipation of "next week's chemical blast". It's an album of contrasts, of love married to death, of fear chipping away at hope. It deserved more than it got.

39. The Bug - London Zoo (Ninja Tune, 2008)

London Zoo is the UK capital's angry underside. London is so deeply embedded in the album's DNA that it plays like an enraged mutant that spawned in the city's sewers and now stalks empty Tube stations by night, seeking bloody revenge. It's a furious, thrilling mash-up of all the capital's most deliciously corrupted indigenous/Caribbean subgenres (dubstep, grime, dancehall, jungle) which can instantly fill a space with focussed indignation and spleen-paralysing bass rumble. The Bug (aka Kevin Martin) has filled the record with Grade-A nuclear talent on the mic, including Ricky Ranking, Aya, Spaceape, Tippa Irie and Warrior Queen, but the star of the show is Roll Deep's Flowdan, whose megabass vocal attack adds considerable threat to his three tracks.

38. Band of Horses - Everything All The Time (Sub Pop, 2006)

Have Eddie Vedder and Band of Horses' Ben Bridwell met at some point? If so, did Vedder invoke some scuffed-denim incantation, nominating the band as Pearl Jam's anointed purveyors of open-hearted rock, in perpetuity throughout the universe? If not, I'm disappointed. In fairness, Band of Horses' sound has a more pastoral bent than Pearl Jam's urban groove, but the link remains in the emotional honesty and anthemic melody that courses through the two bands' best work. Everything All The Time, Band of Horses' debut, is a soaring rock album par excellence. Tracks like 'The Funeral', 'The Great Salt Lake' and the Tom Petty-esque 'Weed Party' will make optimists of the most ardent doom-sayers, even if it's clear from the lyrics that Bridwell is hardly a barrel of sunshine, intoning on the chorus of 'The Funeral', "At every occassion, I'll be ready for the funeral".

37. LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver (DFA, 2007)

Apparently, James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem fame turned down a writing job on the then-unknown Seinfeld in order to carry on with his musical career. So I guess the best compliment I could give to this album is that, against all odds, he has no reason to regret that decision. While taking the job would have seen him contribute to one of the 90s' best-loved sitcoms, his two albums have cemented him as one of the best producers/DJs/songwriters of the 21st century so far. Sound of Silver saw Murphy refine his lo-fi electronica and work on his lyrics (he often improvised vocals before then) to create an electro album that plays like a classic rock record. While the tone of the tracks veers from playful ('Get Innocuous!') to snide ('North American Scum') to wistful reminiscence ('All My Friends', 'Someone Great'), the songs are united by their warmth and humanity.

36. Flying Lotus - Los Angeles (Warp, 2008)

How can one make such naturalistic, textured music from a laptop full of meaningless wires and circuit boards? Flying Lotus might be the devil. But they say he has the best music and Los Angeles bears out the theory. In fact, the laptop is one of modern music's greatest tools for experimentation, giving people far smarter than me more opportunity than ever to rip sounds from their original context and weave them into something new and exciting. It's just that you have to be really good to make it work. Fortunately FlyLo is very, very good. His crackling beats are so smooth they're almost liquid, recalling the late great J Dilla in their elegance and primal danceability. While The Bug's London Zoo (above) sounds distinctly from London with its cloudy, brooding approach, Los Angeles echoes the cool sheen and otherworldliness of its own namesake.

35. Mono - Hymn To The Immortal Wind (Temporary Residence, 2009)

Has ever an album's title been more apt? Japanese post-rockers Mono have spent their career creating epic instrumental music to render the grand sweep of human emotion against an equally majestic natural background. With titles like 'Ashes In The Snow', 'Burial At Sea' and 'The Battle To Heaven', you know you're in for broad strokes, but Mono does broad strokes better than almost any other group. For Hymn..., the band made use of a 28-piece chamber orchestra, and the marriage bore fruit sweeter than a thousand candy babies. The songs play out like a supercharged concerto, with each track a mini-movement unto itself. It's the soundtrack to that movie which exists in your head but no human 'pon the face of the earth is good enough to direct.

34. The Icarus Line - Mono (Crank!, 2001)

With vicious live shows and an inconsistent roster of band members, The Icarus Line always looked set to follow a template that lead to life-changing live shows, disappointing albums and possibly early deaths, given the habit they had for pissing off the locals. But, wonder of wonders, here they are after more than ten years, still alive and recording. Even if their best album was their first. Mono captures the demented spirit of The Icarus Line's live performances while remaining tight enough to keep a lid on the cacophany of Stooges-esque guitar squalls and songs that turn on a dime. And when these songs turn, they turn nasty. With repeated listens, Mono unfurls like a hideous moth, inviting listeners into a teen noir world where no one escapes unbloodied.

33. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion (Domino, 2009)

Anyone turned off by the 'experimental' music tag should be exposed to Merriweather Post Pavilion as a perfect example of how avant-garde music can be as accessible and immediate as any well-worn genre. All their albums have a wonderful sense of childlike play, but no other Animal Collective record feels as instantly giving to the listener as Merriweather...,as if the children have finally grown up enough to know how to share their toys. The band retain their idiosyncracies with layered percussion and melodies that drift in and out of focus, but the sea of sounds is tied together with sustained sections of focused euphoria that are as invigorating as running down a hill at full gallop. You can call it electronic music, but this album floats in a hazy space above genre. You've never heard a band sound so free.

32. Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks - Real Emotional Trash (Matador, 2008)

Ex-Pavement frontman Stephen Malkmus has always been a riffer. Not in the heavy metal sense, rather in the sense that in a song, two riffs are always better than one, and 40 riffs best of all. It's a style that has lead to a lot of great, ambling jam albums, and a few that ambled just a little too long and too far. Fortunately, on his latest album with The Jicks, Malkmus might have just struck upon a vision of his musical future, where his endless fount of incredible riffs and licks are serviced by tight but limber rock 'n' roll structure. On the title track, as well as the likes of 'Baltimore' and 'Dragonfly Pie', this tighter structure gives Malkmus long rein to fly free with the riffing, whilst keeping him tethered to a consistent tone. The result? Peaches and cream.

31. Mastodon - Leviathan (Relapse, 2004)

The enduring appeal of heavy metal is that, in its purest form, it has the rippling muscle and steel backbone to commit to the kind of ludicrous concepts that would swallow most other genres whole and spit out a laughable, half-chewed mess. The best metal has an intimate relationship with the ridiculous, executing overblown ideas with such zeal that listeners can surrender to the band's grandiose vision. Leviathan, Mastodon's 2004 sophomore release, is the signature modern example. The music is as immediate and as accessible as proper metal gets - thunderous riffs, layered solos and drumming that by turns complements and rips apart the grooves. But it's also a convincing evocation of a typically monolithic concept: Melville's Moby Dick and the timeless metaphor of man's brittle defiance in the face of nature's might. 'Blood And Thunder', 'I Am Ahab' and 'Iron Tusk' deliver all the bearded-men-spitting-in-the-face-of-death imagery that your loins can absorb, with this lyrical excerpt from the first proving particularly fortifying to the nethers: "Split your lungs with blood and thunder/ When you see the white whale/ Break your backs and crack your oars men/ If you wish to prevail". There are subtler layers too, as the band process influences from the length and breadth of metal as well as southern country and world music to create a sound that's elemental and fascinating but still something that heavy metal can proudly call its own.

COMING SOON - Part two of the top 50 countdown! Featuring: Hip hop! Guitars! Pink Robots! The Secret of The Universe! Beards!