Ben Gibbard’s pretentions and wimpiness make Death Cab For Cutie’s music a daunting tightrope to tread. Stay on, and you’re treated to some great, romantic pop rock. But all too often, you’re knocked off with glurgy, fey dreck whose supporting guitars sound like a pathetic attempt to sound tough.

On top of James Tamborello’s glitchy, blippy synths, though, Gibbard’s voice is in its right place, and no matter how much he piles on the self-conscious romance, the home production of Postal Service makes it sound like something that’s shared as a random thought, rather than shouted as though it’s a world-changing revelation.

“The District Sleeps Alone Tonight” has obvious thematic appeal for me as a DC resident for this whole decade, but it’s Tamborello’s steadily ascending music that fuels its genius. The guitar part fills up the space at 2:43, beautifully giving more to the suddenly-doubled beat and making the final chorus sound as glorious as synth-pop ever has.
find it on Give Up

I like that this decade has made us a little more zen about The Future; that we’ve become more comfortable with taking the technological and cultural changes as they come instead of obsessing over What The Future Will Be Like. Still, it’s hard not to listen to “Archangel” and feel the futurism. It sounds almost totally removed from the times around it, as though archaeologists from centuries in the future had pieced together what R&B, techno and funk were and concocted a guess as to what it sounded like, and that, somehow, these archaeologists had a really great ear for cold, sparse, gorgeous music.

As glad as I am that the ridiculous and stuffy rules of rock are finally dying down and allowing music to go in whichever direction it needs and wants, there’s still an undeniable thrill to rockers like “Hospital Bed” and “OK Apartment”. The former takes a more chorus-driven approach, while the latter just pounds forwards with a break for sparseness in the middle, but they’re both possessed with that divine itch that’s your body’s natural way of telling you, “Dude, this fucking ROCKS.”
find “Hospital Bed” on On My Way
find “OK Apartment” on All Around

77. The 6ths (featuring Momus), “As You Turn To Go” (2000)

There were plenty of songs and acts that worshipped the sound of 60′s girl-group pop, but none did it as perfectly as the Pipettes did on “Pull Shapes”. All the elements are nailed in all the right spots: the joy of “we can do it all, just don’t let the music stop”, the disco strings, the delicious crowd-baiting of “clap your hand if you want some more” and the perfect blend of the three different voices, and it’s all done with elements and love of the sounds that came after the one they’re aping.
find it on We Are The Pipettes

There was a moment in the late winter of 2007 when I was walking through the (as always) deserted streets of Crystal City just as a large-flake snow started falling. This was the song that was playing and it was the best possible soundtrack for that moment. The beautiful melody was perfect for the romance of the falling snow and the grit and trippiness of the background noises (crying, jet engines?) fit the bleak concrete cityscape.

The harmonies in the chorus fit anything anytime anywhere.

Side note: I know that a lot of people (one of which answers to “Limousine Crazy”) will consider it blasphemy to cut this song in half, but listen: the full song is clearly two parts, with the second part being nothing more than a long riff on the soundscape. I’m not saying it’s not bad or not worthy, but it was the first part of this song that swayed me.
find it on Person Pitch

Indiepop, indie dance, indie rock, indie rap even. But indie epic electro funk? Maybe there is a even more of a legacy of the Tom Tom Club’s “Genius of Love” than we ever suspected. Although Architecture in Helsinki is one of the most maddening bands of the decade–giving us genius singles like this and then overwhelming it with shrill art pretentions on the albums–when the irresistible groove of the front half melts into the shiny bliss of the back, all is forgiven.
find in on In Case We Die

Over two EPs in the mid-00s, PAS/CAL seemed like the obvious heirs to the indiepop throne. They injected cocksure musicianship into sensitive indie melodicism and outrageous swagger into librarian-friendly romance, suggesting they were the guys that went to the indie parties and got all the girls while the sensitive guys were still in the corners, looking at the floor and wondering what they should do.

“The Bronzed Beach Boys” nails the melodic charm and exploratory arrangements that those EPs had, letting the sunset go down on a raucous day, enjoying the moment with handclaps and electric piano, but never letting it fly totally off the hook, knowing we need to rest up for the fun later on.

Unfortunately, what happened later on was that PAS/CAL went far too much into the melodramatic arrangements and lost their way to great listens like this one. But for a moment there, everything was so right that we weren’t worried at all about tomorrow.

That I’ve had more debates about this song than any other shows just how confrontational it is. A fairly straighforward indiepop song becomes a polarizing shocker just by pushing all of the levels into the red. It’s funny for me to hear people call it distortion, because that’s only true technically. Artistically, it’s an incredibly gutsy move: to deliberately do something that many people would consider a complete ruination of the song, but just knowing that it was ridiculous EQ that the song needed. It’s a choice that takes my breath away.

It’s also something that only could have happened in 2009. It was inevitable that people raised in an age when some of their favorite music was played on fuzzy and clipping mp3s would think that the sound was natural and exciting; the sound of not only what they grew up with, but one that says that it’s the listening that’s important, not how it’s delivered.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s a great song, too, especially with the raise in each repetition of the title line, ending with the orgasmic “OH!”s, but it’s that production choice that never ceases to amaze me. Or at least, hasn’t yet.

Ladytron’s 604 was one of my favorites of the decade, and certainly the most memorable and lasting album of the electroclash days (remember those? Good times). But as much as loved the fragile sound of Helen Marnie’s voice and tales of heartbreak and betrayal, it was the silly fun of Mira Aroyo’s detached department store guide in “P.A.C.O!” that got the most listens from me. A brilliant pop hit that never was.
find it on 604

The Lucksmiths are the reason that I limited myself to a maximum of three songs from one artist for this list. If I was going strictly by the songs that I loved most this decade, I could have fit at least another three or four Lucksmiths songs.

“T-Shirt Weather” gets the nod as one of the three for simple sincerity (and a jaw-dropping bass part). Mark Monnone’s songs tend to be more about enjoying life’s little moments than Marty Donald’s relationship pondering, but while it doesn’t offer any deep insights, it’s nails its intention: the simple joy of those first warm days of the season.
find it on the T-Shirt Weather EP

One of a handful of songs on the list that I probably never would have gotten to love if it wasn’t for my occasional stops at Mousetrap, the Black Cat’s monthly britpop/indiepop dance night. Interpol’s too-cool-for-you sound never appealed to me much, but on the crowded dancefloor, when the drums cut out at 3:08 and the guitars drone and harmonize just to lead up to the energy explosion of the ending, it’s a sound for everyone.

Cut-up vocals were common this decade, but they were never as thrilling as in Amon Tobin’s “Verbal”, where the speed of the vocals pushed one line over the next in almost-assaulting word jumbles. Add a relentlessly pushing bass grind to it, and it becomes as action-packed as it is acrobatic.
find it on Out From Out Where

The Clientele were about as reliable as bands come, bowing out at the end of the decade with 5 albums of relaxed 60′s-tinged indiepop. That there was a sameness to their songs should have been a strike against them, but instead, it made for a lovely surface listen with a deeper treasure hunt, searching for the melodic moments that set themselves apart.

It’s in “6 am Morningside” where one of the greatest of those little Clientele moments lives: the simple beauty of the line, “the windows are all open and it’s Saturday”, with the decending chord change just after. It melted me every single time.
find it on Suburban Light

64. Patrick Wolf, “The Magic Position” (2007)

63. The Cloud Room, “Hey Now Now” (2005)

It’s no surprise that Solange Knowles did a cover of this song. The overhit drums and indie production don’t do much to cover up that this is a R&B song, pure and simple, a fact which Amber Coffman knew very well when they played it live. She goes from standing mostly motionless behind a mic stand to taking the mic out and taking her turn as a diva.
find it on Bitte Orca