I don’t have a particular reason for writing this post today, except that I’ve been meaning to write it for a while. In late 2010, I had the good fortune to see this embedded performance of William Finn’s Elegies, a song cycle he wrote about the people in his life who had passed away. Finn—who also wrote Falsettos and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee—is my favorite musical theatre composer because his lyrics burst with unusual details that make the characters feel remarkably alive. Matched with his complex-yet-accessible melodies, his words make each song feel like missives from a peculiar, beautiful world.

Elegies is especially rich with songs like that. In “Infinite Joy,” for instance, the singer reflects on the philosophy of a departed loved one:

“Goodness is rewarded.
Hope is guaranteed.
Laughter builds strong bones.
Right will intercede.
Things you said, I often find I need.”

But more than that philosophy, the singer reflects on how easy that philosophy has become to adopt—how much and how potently it makes the drab daily world seem astonishing. And that’s where the specificity elevates the lyrics:

“I see the world through your eyes:
I taste lemon on my lips.
I marvel at the sailing ships
of well-dressed girls and boys.
You told me life
has infinite joys.”

Lemon on the lips. Such a distinct sensation. Marveling at beautiful children on a ship. Such a lovely thing to imagine marvelling at. And it tells you so much about this person who has died. It makes them stand just behind your chair.

And brilliantly, the song is also vague enough to let us fill in the rest. We don’t even know the gender of this person, but we know that he or she found bottomless happiness everywhere, even in the taste of lemon.

That’s something a lot of composers miss, I think. A song like this doesn’t work if you’re just reciting everything you and your lover bought at the market yesterday. Even in its specificity,the song has to give the listener’s mind something to do. It has to tantalize, not delineate, our imagination.

And that leads me to the one-two punch of “14 Dwight Ave., Natick, Massachusetts” and “When the Earth Stopped Turning,” two songs that tell one continuous story. Watch this clip—from the performance I saw at Pace University in Manhattan—and see if you’re as moved by these songs as I always am. (Forgive the home video quality.)

Here are a few things I know:

(1) The simple premise of “14 Dwight Ave., Natick, Massachusetts”—a dying woman and her son take a last, celebratory drive around the town where they lived, ending on the street where the woman raised her family—could make me cry without music or lyrics. The energy and gratitude and kindness behind this idea sums up how I always want to live (even if I don’t always succeed.)

(2) Speaking of specificity vs. imaginative possibility: We learn a lot about this woman, and more importantly, we learn how she feels about the details she shares. And late in the song, when she sings her own name, Barbara Finn, she strikes me as a woman who has etched her name on the world. She’s certain that her life has meant something, and you can hear it in the confident chords playing beneath her. But at the same time, she never actually says, “I’m dying.” She just tells us she has her oxygen in tow on her ride around town, and that she knows it will be her final trip. She focuses entirely on the beloved and the positive, and we are free to understand what else is there. How lovely of William Finn, to trust that we will get it.

(3) And how lovely, too, that not every detail on Barbara’s drive is an all-time hit. She and her son Michael pass the houses of people they hardly knew. But oh, listen to the rush of music beneath them anyway. There’s bliss even in these trivial places because time is running out. It’s like Emily looking at Grover’s Corners for the last time or Romeo’s eyes drinking their final image of Juliet: It’s life. It’s life. No matter which silly corner you’re looking at, you want more and more and more of it.

(4) The rushing vitality of this song is perfectly matched by the soft, devastated beauty of “When the Earth Stopped Turning,” and because we’ve met Barbara, we understand exactly what Michael has lost. And again, my god, the details. The overwhelming smell of powder in the air. The fact that they laughed until they cried, even tough they knew what was coming. This clarity of memory strikes me as exactly right. I was by my grandmother’s side when she died, and I feel like I remember everything. I remember what was on the hospital television. I remember what my mother said as her mother slipped away.

(5) I also love that the song slips around in time. Sometimes, Michael sings in the preset tense, sometimes in the past. Sometimes, he remembers her death. Sometimes her remembers her life. It’s all there, jumbled, yet Finn’s music keeps it structured and moving forward. He makes the confusion of grief comprehensible.

(6) And a few times, Michael stops himself from grieving. The music drops out for a moment, then returns with bold new chords, pounding and insistent, when Michael recalls:

“‘The world is good,’ you said.
‘Enjoy its highs,’ you said.
‘The summer flies,’ you said.
‘So make a parade.’”

And the music soars with the word “flies” and stretches out the word “parade” with contemplative wonder, and oh my god, I’m breaking down, because here it is again: That evocation of a philosophy. That use of dramaturgical structure to point out that life is worth living every, every minute. Am I a sucker for this narrative? Yes. But let’s all be. Let’s all be.

Ahem. So there they are. Two songs that always remind me to make a parade.

[#40-31; #30-21; #20-11] [Last year's countdown]

Here they are: The best of the best, the most of the most, the… you know.

10. “Countdown” by Beyonce

As a nation, I still don’t think we’re ready for the genre-smashing dance explosion of this song, which I analyzed in depth a few months ago. How else to explain why it didn’t become a massive hit? But I have to believe we’ll get there someday. Perhaps in 2040, when the Hunger Games are a reality, Katniss will lead the people to the strains of her boof-boof ridin’.

9. “Break My Heart” by Sara Ramirez

Back in April, I praised Sara Ramirez for taking us to Jesus with this song, especially on the mind-melting bridge, and Lord, we are still flying toward Your light.

Now, in fact, I like the song even more because I’ve realized that the lyrics actually do make sense: They’re about a woman who’s so used to being hurt that she can’t handle her perfect new boyfriend. She wants him to break her heart so that she can feel normal again.

(Note: There are several typos in that earlier post. I promise I know how to spell “Sheryl Crow.”)

8. “This is Why We Fight” by The Decemberists

January 2011 delivered two of the best albums of the year and two of the best Americana albums I’ve heard in ages: Lori McKenna’s Lorraine and The Decemberists’ The King Is Dead. At the time, I praised the latter for proving the band can make arresting music to go with its arcane lyrical references, and that continues to hold true. “This Is Why We Fight,” in fact, isn’t even that lyrically dense: It’s a pretty straightforward battle cry against anything that might bind us, a call for people to rise up and resist what holds them down. The video supports that message, and the rolling drums and frantic guitars clarify the urgency of the call. It’s the kind of song you can lost in and energized by.

7. “Nobody’s Fool” by Miranda Lambert

The best country music lyrics subvert our expectations of cliches. Case in point: The chorus of “Nobody’s Fool:”

All my friends’ll say, “Hey don’t you know him?”
And I’ll try to play it off cool.
When they ask, I’ll just say, “He’s nobody.
And me? Well, I’m nobody’s fool.”

BRILLIANT! Add this to the instantly addictive melody and Lambert’s rock-inflected vocal and you’ve got one of the most pleasurable music experiences of my year.

6. “L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.” by Noah & The Whale

As I mentioned when I wrote about this song last spring, I’m a sucker for songs that spell out words. But this ditty rockets into my top ten not only because it’s educational, but also because it’s so damn catchy and because it tells such interesting stories about people refusing to be cowed by their crappy lives. I like to imagine these characters are the grown-up versions of the kids from “Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm” by Crash Test Dummies.

5. “The Luxury of Knowing” by Lori McKenna

Remember when I mentioned Lori McKenna up there? Yeah. She’s amazing. And this song distills her incredible skill into a taut, mournful depiction of a woman who is afraid she’s become too vulnerable too soon with a man who reveals nothing. As someone who has been in this exact situation, I find the song especially powerful: It really does suck to feel like you’ve made yourself vulnerable to someone who’s not interested in doing the same.

As a bonus, “The Luxury of Knowing” is my favorite song title of the year.

4. “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye

I just wrote about this song a few weeks ago, so I won’t reiterate  my praise. I’ll just add that I’ve since purchased Gotye’s album Making Mirrors, and it’s full of great music. (None of it sounds quite like “Somebody That I Used to Know,” but that’s a compliment, you know?)

3. “The Edge of Glory” by Lady Gaga

If this song had a better video, then it might have been a number one hit. It certainly deserved to be. Still, it was huge success that pushed Lady Gaga’s music as close to unaffected joy as it has ever come. I’ve been working out to it for months, and it still gives me a jolt every time I hit the treadmill.

2. “All This And Heaven Too” by Florence + The Machine

Yes, there are many pop songs about the inability to express your love for someone. But familiar ground feels fresh when it is described like this:

I would give all this and heaven too,
I would give it all, if only for a moment,
that I could just understand the meaning of the word, you see,
’cause I’ve been scrawling it forever,
but it never makes sense to me at all.

The tactility of a word like “scrawling” tells you that this woman is not just inarticulate about love, she’s desperately inarticulate. She’s been scribbling down words for years to no avail. But as the music beneath her suggests, with its fluid leaps from restraint to yowling passion, that loss of words is kind of exhilarating. Being in the thrall of a mighty feeling can be inspiring. And eventually, as she gets lost in that feeling—in the sound of the song—she realizes that she can “scream out a language that she never knew existed before.” I love going on that journey with her.

1. “Someone Like You” by Adele

It just is. “Someone Like You” just is the best song of the year. We may have heard it a billion times, and we may need to take a break for a while, but that’s okay. No matter when we come back to it, the song will still be good. In fifty years, when it’s become a nightclub standard and everyone covers it on their “classics” albums, it will still be captivating us with its elegantly structured heartbreak.

[#40-31;#30-21] [Last year's countdown]
The countdown continues! Get ready for some devastating ballads and a few happy songs that are so happy you’ll probably freak with all the happiness.

20. “Dimming of the Day” by Alison Krauss and Union Station

This song is a minor classic in the country-folk world. It was originally written by Richard Thompson and performed by Linda Thompson, and it has since been covered by Bonnie Raitt, The Blind Boys of Alabama, and even The Corrs. (Remember them?) I didn’t hear it until this year, however, in this sparse and haunting version by Alison Krauss and Union Station. When you mention a Krauss ballad, I guess it’s redundant to say “sparse and haunting,” but still… her style especially suits this song. She uncovers a mournful quality in its need, suggesting that the speaker is beyond begging and has now just accepted desire as a basic part of life. She needs her lover at the dimming of the day, but she doesn’t expect to get him.

19. “What Doesn’t Kill You (Stronger)” by Kelly Clarkson

K.C. bruised my ego when she announced her support of Ron Paul. I couldn’t believe that someone whose music I liked so much could disagree with my politics. How rude! Doesn’t enjoying her albums mean that I know her and that she knows me and that we’re the same?

No? Well… okay. I’ll just get back to jamming on this sassy kiss-off to a terrible ex, which sports wall-shaking power notes and a rock-inflected dance beat. Sure, that’s the Kelly Clarkson Basic, but I can’t fault her for repeating herself when she does it so well. Her new album Stronger is (ahem) not her strongest, but tracks like this, “Mr. Know It All” and “I Forgive You” are keeping me on her side.

18. “Little Hell” by City and Colour

City and Colour is really just Canadian singer-songwriter Dallas Green (his name is a city and a color, ya dig?), but his songs are so complex that they justify the name of an entire band. I love “Little Hell” because it’s really several ballads in one, moving from restrained acoustic beauty to mounting passion to a full-throated, drum-crashing wail. When I can take a journey like this in just five minutes, I’m always going back for another ride.

17. “All Black Everything” by Lupe Fiasco

Lupe Fiasco’s Lasers is my favorite hip-hop album of 2011. Granted, I don’t like a lot of rap music, but when something clicks with me, it really clicks. I love Fiasco’s socially conscious themes, his wordplay, and his lush production.

Lyrically, “All Black Everything” is the record’s most adventurous song, sending Lupe through blissful dream where slavery never happened and therefore the history of the world is inverted. In his fantasy, Eminem is a black guy who discovers a white rapper named 50 Cent, George W. Bush is doing good works in Iran and, oh yeah, all people are equal in their nobility. Plenty of pop stars have imagined a world rid of color lines, but few have done it with so much good humor. (Note: That reference to Janet Jackson was not meant disrespectfully. I will always be part of the rhythm nation.)

16. “Don’t You Wanna Stay” by Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson

I clocked this power ballad way back in January, and it’s still one of my favorites. Sometimes, you just need a good slab of cheese, and Kelly Clarkson is the perfect person to deliver it. Oh, and Jason Aldean’s alright, too. When’s he’s not rapping.

15. “Set Fire to the Rain” by Adele

Can I still say “I told you so” for putting Adele in the top 20 of last year’s countdown? I’m proud of that one, you guys. And I’m glad the rest of the free world jumped on board, making her the unquestioned pop sensation of 2011. She had the year’s best-selling album (here’s my review) and “Rolling in the Deep” was the year’s best-selling single. When someone this talented is also this popular, everybody wins.

Currently, “Set Fire to the Rain” is looking like a good contender to be her third consecutive number one hit, following “Deep” and “Someone Like You,” and that would be amazing. It’s just so fucking grand, this song.

14. “Stereo Hearts” by Gym Class Heroes featuring Adam Levine

Awwwwww yeah! This is my jam. I don’t know how I made it this long without writing about “Stereo Hearts,” because seriously? My jam. The chorus is flawless, the beat is sickening, and Travie McCoy’s dopey-smart rapping always makes me smile. If he were my fifty-pound boombox, I would never get mad at him for needing mad D batteries. (Side note: “Moves Like Jagger,” the year’s other great single featuring Adam Levine, gets an honorable mention on this countdown.)

13. “Domino” by Jessie J

It’s weird, right? “Price Tag” was Jessie J’s breakthrough single, and it’s not very good. Don’t hold that against her, though, because she really does kick ass. I almost put her song “Nobody’s Perfect” in this slot because I’ve listened to it about 50 times this year, but I’ve burned myself out on it. Therefore, I’m going with her current single “Domino,” which I fell for last November. Written, of course, by pop geniuses Max Martin and Dr. Luke, it’s got one of the best pop lyrics of the year: “I can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air/ Now I’m breathin’ like I’m runnin’, ’cause you’re takin’ me there.” Damn right. That’s sexy.

12. “I Stand Alone” by Theophilus London

I gave props to Theophilus London in October, and while I still think he has the potential to be a superstar, he thus far remains in the underground. Check out “I Stand Alone” and discover what the future fuss will be about. A sweet mixture of indie rock and low-key hip-hop, I guarantee this song will make you feel at least 10 percent cooler than you do right now.

11. “Oklahoma Sky” by Miranda Lambert

If you don’t know Allison Moorer, than let me assure you that she is one of the most intelligent and engaging singer-songwriters currently working. Apparently, Miranda Lambert’s recent marriage to Blake Shelton inspired her to write “Oklahoma Sky” just for Lambert, and I’d say it’s one of the best wedding gifts a person could receive.

For me, this song sounds like the moment you realize that yes, yes, you really are in love with a person who also loves you. It’s a holy thing that forces you to be quiet. Even if it’s just for a second, your joy is so immense that it hushes you, humbles you. I hear that feeling in the sparse intensity of “Oklahoma Sky’s” arrangement, in the straightforward simplicity of its lyric, and in the husky restraint of Lambert’s vocal.

“How long has it taken me to find you?” Lambert sings. “500 years? 500,000 miles? It don’t matter now. Love’s always on time. Meet me underneath the Oklahoma sky.” Yes. Yes. You’ve known loneliness. You’ve known suffering. But oh god, how strangely grateful you feel for them now. They got you here. They prepared you to appreciate what’s unfolding around you, like the sky itself rolling back to show you a new world.

[#40-31] [Last year's countdown]
Welcome back! Let’s keep things rolling with some very, very cute boys. Oh, and some good songs, too…

30. “I Won’t Let You Go” by James Morrison

Ooh, lord! James Morrison is all, “I’m sensitive, and I sing really well about loving you through hard times!” And I’m all, “Kiss me with your mouth open!”

Ahem.

I’m trying to say that “I Won’t Let You Go” is a lovely power ballad that gains traction in my heart because of Morrison’s slightly-cracked vocals and his willingness to pull back on the instrumentation when a typical song would ramp it up. Somehow, that lack of grandiosity makes me believe him more. Oh, and also? I want to make out with him.

29. “Hello” by Martin Solveig and Dragonette

You’ve got to admire a dance song with a slow burn. There’s an amazing beat in “Hello,” kind of like your favorite Nintendo sound effect bouncing over and over and over in your ear, but Solveig makes you wait for it. You can feel it coming, you know it’s coming, and then… WOOO! There it is. Once the beat drops and Dragonette’s chirpy vocals kick in, it’s a nonstop party.

28. “The Bad in Each Other” by Feist

Say it with me now: “Feist’s new album doesn’t sport anything as catchy as her breakthrough hit ’1, 2, 3,4.’” That’s true, of course, every review of Metals made that clear. But the album does offer some textured, bewitching songwriting. Though I’d recommend the entire collection, my personal favorite is “The Bad In Each Other.” It describes a tortured relationship with sad grandeur, using somber bursts of horns and booming drums. It’s not lively, exactly, but it’s alive.

27. “You Called Me” by Mayer Hawthorne

Of all the songs on the countdown, this is the only one I can’t find in an embeddable form, but at least you can hear a sample on Amazon. It’s my favorite track from Hawthorne’s vintage soul-styled album How Do You Do because the lyrics are clever, the musicianship is tight, and the experience isn’t marred by jarring curse words that Hawthorne occasionally drops to sound “current.” If you played this song in the Under the Sea dance at Back to the Future, ever kid in the place would be dancin’, but you’d probably get the same effect at this year’s junior prom. Wonderful soul can jump out of time like that.

26. “Heart Skips a Beat” by Olly Murs featuring Rizzle Kicks

Apparently, this part of the countdown is all about British pop stars I’d like to French, because Olly Murs is also super-cute. And when a white lad can throw out some 90s-tastic New Jack Swing, then I’m all the way on board. The rap interlude from rising hip-hoppers Rizzle Kicks just seals the deal.

25. “All I Ever Do” by Lori McKenna

Lori McKenna’s songwriting is almost painfully insightful. With just a few lines, she can conjure and entire soul, like she does with the chorus of this song about a working-class woman who doesn’t do anything but work and pray… but who loves someone enough to make it worthwhile. Her ability to capture the power of small comforts and tiny indignities ranks her with Patty Griffin as America’s best contemporary folk songwriter. Her new album Lorraine is also one of the best of the year. If you like what you hear up there, then do yourself a favor and track it down.

24. “Promises” by Nero

This was a wonderful year for thundering dance anthems that were humanized by interesting vocal performances, and Nero rides at the top of that wave. This is a club track with meat on its bones.

23. “Gangsta” by tUnE-yArDs

When I enthused about this bizarre, fascinating track back in May, I said it would “no doubt be the low-riding anthem for all the velvet pimps of 2230.” I stand by that.

22. “Peg O’ My Heart” by The Dropkick Murphys

You may recall that back in March, this kicky little ditty (featuring a guest vocal from Bruce Springsteen) made me parse the difference between “good noise” and “bad noise” in a rock song. It’s still on the right side of that line.

21. “Something Good Can Work” by Two Door Cinema Club

Oh, Twin Sunday Cinema Club! I love your jumpy, intelligent pop music that makes me want to get sweaty while wearing a tie and sweater vest. This song is rush of joyous energy that keeps me jogging through the hardest parts of my exercise routine.

[See Last Year's Countdown]

Now that I’ve absorbed the music I bought with Christmas gift cards, I am ready to anoint my top 40 songs of 2011. As you know, this countdown is mandated by my DNA, so I am delighted to once again fulfill my genetic destiny.

2011 delivered a lot of great ballads, but curiously, the first leg of the countdown is entirely uptempo. So think of this as your dance warmup, y’all! Headbands and torn sweatshirts… activate!

40. “Without You” by David Guetta featuring Usher

I never thought I’d see the day when I’d buy an Usher song. You may recall that he released one of my least favorite singles in 2010, and I typically can’t stand his overdone swagger. And yet… here we are.

Yes, “Without You” has terrible lyrics: Nobody can wind and nobody can rain, because those words are nouns, not verbs. However, David Guetta’s swirly-bubbly synth line is so damn delightful that even if the song were about last week’s Garfield strips, it would still get me dancing.

But that’s true of many recent hits: Foster the People’s “Pumped Up Kicks,” Hot Chelle Rae’s “Tonight, Tonight,” and LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It” are all happily mindless, even if one of them pretends to be a deep exploration of adolescent rage. Usher’s vocal is the reason that “Without You” squeaks past them into the Top 40. There’s an emotional edge that I’ve never heard in his voice before, and I like it.

Fun fact: Usher was born in Chattanooga, then eventually moved to Atlanta. JUST LIKE ME! That’s why I’m pretty sure I was the inspiration for “Yeah!”

39. “Lonely Boy” by The Black Keys

The Black Keys are not pushing rock music into strange new dimensions. Album after album, they’re just kicking ass like a blues rock band from the 70s, proving there’s always room for fuzzy feedback and handclaps. This has finally made them stars, and their newest album, El Camino, has been lodged in the top ten for weeks. “Lonely Boy” is that album’s lead single, and it sums up their black-jeans-and-white-t-shirt appeal.

38. “Post Break-Up Sex” by The Vaccines

Man, you guys. I am so glad I listen to the BBC’s weekly countdown of Britain’s Top 40 songs. It introduces me to so many acts that never break in the States, and just like last year, this countdown is full of ‘em. Among the happy discoveries are The Vaccines, a mopey/tuneful rock band from London. The chorus of “Post Break-Up Sex” asks a tragicomic question worthy or Morrissey—”What did you expect from post break-up sex?”—and like a Gin Blossoms hit, it pairs that sadness with bouncy hooks.

If it sounds like I’m defining this band entirely through comparisons… well… I am. Like The Black Keys, they’re breaking new ground, but that’s okay. I’ve still been bobbing my head to this song for a year. (If you like it, I also recommend their song “Norgaard,” which rocks a little harder.)

37. “Stay Young, Go Dancing” by Death Cab for Cutie

Death Cab for Cutie has probably passed its commercial peak, such as it was. They never made it to R.E.M. levels of saturation, but now they’re too well-known to be anyone’s beloved underground secret. But whatever, right? Their music is still awesome, and Ben Gibbard continues to be one of the best lyricists in the history of everything. Their 2011 album Codes and Keys is ultimately a minor work, lacking anything as urgent as “Death of an Interior Decorator” or “Sound of Settling” or “I Will Follow You Into The Dark,” but it still offers lush delights. “Stay Young, Go Dancing” is a sweet love song that closes the album, and its pleasant energy reminds me of skipping through the grass. When I need a soundtrack for a brisk walk home, this is where I’m heading.

36. “Tonight’s the Kind of Night” by Noah & The Whale

Noah & The Whale is the very best thing that the British charts sent me this year. Every song on their album Last Night on Earth is a college-rock thrill, filled with great hooks, emotional and musical variety, and effective lyrics about bruised people finding hope.

On “Tonight’s the Kind of Night,” they blend that theme with a rollicking drum line and fabulous background singers. The result is musically substantial and effortlessly fun.

35. “The One That Got Away” by Katy Perry

This shocks me even more than the Usher thing: Last year, I declared Katy Perry’s “Firework” the very worst song of 2010, and now another single from the same album is on my honor roll. I’d be terrified by this development, except that last month, Roommate Joe helpfully defined the Katy Perry Wear-Down Cycle.

And seriously—I love singing along to the line “In another liiiife.” It’s fucking awesome.

34. “Heaven” by Emeli Sande

Americans! Let’s pull it together and make this song happen in 2012. “Oh, but Mark! I’ve heard hotter beats and catchier choruses!” No, you haven’t. Britain already twigged to this song’s club-banging, soul-lifting perfection, and we can’t let Britain win! (No offense offence if you’re British. I love Downton Abbey!)

33. “Ships in the Night” by Mat Kearney

A few months ago, I asked us all to celebrate the loping beats and excellent white-guy rapping of “Ships in the Night,” and I stand by that claim. After many listens, I’ve only gotten fonder of the alt-rock/dance-pop fusion on Kearney’s album Young Love.

32. “Wonderland” by Natalia Kills

Well, well, well! In the very same post where I praised “Ships in the Night,” I also gave props to “Wonderland.” It’s still in my workout mix after all these many months, because I cannot get enough of its nasty beat and clever lyrics. And the dramatic build of the pre-chorus—”I don’t believe in fairytales…”—is still exciting. You can just tell that something fierce is about to happen, and then it does.

31. “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees

Did you guys not read my post from last month? Inexplicably, “Everybody Talks” has not become an overnight sensation. I mean, I know the holidays get hectic, but surely we’ve all got time for hands-in-the-air, garage-rock perfection. Play it now and love it forever!

My official music round up will come in early January, after I sort through the albums I get for Christmas. For now, though, I have call your attention to a pair of phenomenal new songs and one extremely disappointing single from a very talented star.

(1) “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye featuring Kimbra

When I first saw this video over the summer, I fully intended to download the song and tell everyone to watch the clip. And then… I forgot. Thank goodness my friend Rachel brought it back to my attention. Both Gotye and Kimbra have been making music for several years—Kimbra’s St. Vincent-esque song “Settle Down” is especially delightful—but I totally missed them until this track started surging. It’s been getting radio play and is zooming up the iTunes chart, so it may soon fill the top ten’s “indie anomaly” slot, which was recently taken by “1, 2, 3, 4,” “Fireflies,” and “Pumped Up Kicks.”

But who cares, right? Even if radio never cares about Gotye again, at least it latched onto this sweet hit. I love the slow-building intensity and the way Gotye’s “passion voice” makes him sound like Sting. I love the song’s minimalism, as though the intense feelings of the spurned lovers are so strong that they can barely face them.

And of course I love the ingenious video. Do you think they digitally altered Gotye’s teeth to make them look that white?

(2) “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees

They had a hit last year with “Animal”—a cookie-cutter-yet-kicky anthem that I dubbed the #40 song of 2010—but Neon Trees blows that track away with “Everybody Talks.” Whereas “Animal” sounds  like a faithful retread of the rock-pop trends of the moment, “Everybody Talks” races to the garage, strips off the studio prettiness, and delivers a raw, exhilarating blast. From Tyler Glenn’s remarkably nuanced vocal—check the way he slides around a note—to Elaine Bradley’s fierce drumming, the track has got me hooked.

Plus, the band gets bonus points for name-checking “Love Shack” in the chorus.

(3) “Better Than I Know Myself” by Adam Lambert

Oh, Adam Lambert. How can someone so talented and so interesting keep releasing such generic songs? I love “Whataya Want From Me,” but otherwise, his music is just cheesy—adult contemporary cliches buried in ugly production.

“Better Than I Know Myself,” the lead single from his upcoming second album, keeps that dubious tradition alive. “If I wanted to leave, I’d have left by now,” he sings. “But you’re the only one who knows me better than I know my myself.” Really? That’s as original as it gets? Perhaps a stitch in time will save nine while we’re at it.

Worse, this hackneyed nonsense is sung over a sludgy-sounding backing track that recalls the period when Celine Dion fused sentimental pop ballads with electronic music. God help us. Adam Lambert may soon join Melinda Doolittle in that pile of performers who kicked ass on American Idol and lost their identities in the real world.

This week, two tiny tempests have been created by two holiday carols, and both dustups teach the same lesson.

On Monday, news broke that a music teacher at a Michigan elementary school had stripped the word “gay” from “Deck the Halls.” Instead, she had her students sing “don we now our BRIGHT apparel.” (She apparently made this decision because students kept snickering at the word “gay.”)

By Tuesday,the word was back in, amid frustrations from parents about the “inappropriate” substitution and a reminder from the school’s principal that the school’s anti-discrimination policy includes LGBT protections.

Meanwhile, the blog of the excellent, feminist-leaning magazine Bitch revived the debate about whether “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is “rapey” in its depiction of a man and woman deciding if they’re going to stay in on a cold night and have sex. This debate is new to me, but apparently, it’s been going on for a while, and as writer Kelsey Wallace, points out, it largely centers on the moment when the (traditionally) female singer coos, “Say, what’s in this drink?” For some, this lyric implies that the woman has been drugged so that she can’t possibly leave the man’s house.

The lively discussion on Wallace’s post included a link to a 2010 blog post for Persephone Magazine that rebukes the “rapey” reading of that line. The author writes, “‘Say, what’s in this drink’ is a well-used phrase that was common in movies of the time period and isn’t really used in the same manner any longer. The phrase generally referred to someone saying or doing something they thought they wouldn’t in normal circumstances; it’s a nod to the idea that alcohol is ‘making’ them do something unusual. But the joke is almost always that there is nothing in the drink. The drink is the excuse.”

And that’s where the two stories overlap. In both cases, a 2011 sensibility is being used to understand work from a different cultural era. Little kids are laughing at the implied homosexuality of “gay apparel,” and critics are saying there are roofies in the drink.

What’s more, people in both cases are suggesting that the best way to deal with these cultural disconnections is to eliminate the offending phrases. The teacher cut the word “gay” from “Deck the Halls”. Kelsey Wallace ends her post by saying shopping malls should stop playing “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” altogether.

Granted, the teacher put the word back in the song and plenty of the blog’s commenters defended “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Given the context of both the phrases, I’d say that’s the right call. Rather than rewriting a standard carol, teachers can tell their students that “gay” means more than one thing. Rather than banning a chestnut, critics can dig deeply into the context of the line that bothers them. If they still object to the song, then so be it, but at least they can ground their opinion in a larger understanding of how the tune was intended. (This is essentially what Wallace does in the comments section beneath her post.)

But for me, this entire situation is a reminder that when you’re having a knee-jerk reaction to something that offends or frustrates you, looking for context is very hard. It’s much easier to just go ahead and follow your first instinct. It’s much easier to justify banning the thing that bothers you than to really explore it.

As someone with a left-leaning bias, I often see misogynist and/or racist and/or homophobic subtexts in things. I typically stand by of those readings, but as the 2011 Carol Wars demonstrate, it’s never bad to step back, take a breath, and investigate the things that irk or offend. There might be calmer, gentler, or more-informed perspectives just waiting to be discovered. Those perspectives don’t have to sabotage our critical responses to culture. They can simply make them more nuanced and satisfying.

"Justin, you're old enough to look at this, right?"

I took deep breaths, counted to ten, and even slept on it… and  Justin Bieber and Mariah Carey’s remake of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” still makes me angry. So won’t you join me as I process these turbulent feelings?

I’ve been aware of the duet for several months, but I didn’t realize it was such an unholy beast until Linda Holmes playfully deconstructed its music video at Monkey See. She nails the cheap consumerism and icky sexuality on display, so I won’t rehash her points. I’m just adding one more grievance to her list.

Take a look and then join me in surveying the horror:

Grievance: The Song’s Musical Legacy Deserves Better Than This

I love Carey’s original version of her delightful Christmas tune. I stand by my assertion from 2009 that it’s the only significant Christmas song written since 1984, as evidenced by the fact that while the original continues to generate significant sales and airplay, cover versions by Michael Buble, the Glee cast, and Bieber/Carey are also breaking out this season.

In fact, Buble’s slowed-down version is currently the most-played song on Adult Contemporary radio. It’s wildly different from Carey’s Phil Spector-ish original, yet it still sounds good, which proves that the song is strong enough to be successfully reinterpreted. Any classic needs that kind of flexibility.

That’s why I can theoretically support a Bieber-Carey remake. It’s been 17 years since the original debuted, and it’s certainly possible that Carey could now have something else to express with her material.

And while I don’t love Justin Bieber, I don’t hate him like I used to. He’s a decent singer with a cute haircut, and in the hands of the right producer, he could do okay things with the track.

But obviously, I’m speaking in hypotheticals, as the actual duet is such a mess. The basic instrumentation has been retained, but what the hell is happening with the vocals? How many computer programs have they been run through? And since when did riffing under every damn line your partner sings become the best way to “duet” with someone?

Is there anyone who heard this version and thought it was an improvement over the effervescent original? Did the cash-in mentality of this project have to be so obvious? Couldn’t someone, anyone, have tried to iron out the vocal issues so that Bieber and Carey could sound like two singers working together instead of two lost kittens caterwauling at each other across a dark junkyard?

This would be less galling, I think, if Carey herself weren’t involved. Her willingness to fuck up her own legacy—her mordant lack of taste—has been obvious since she began her “Honey”-era transfer from Tommy Mottola-sponsored good girl to bronzed bimbo, but her embarrassing skirts and breathy vocals have at least suited the material they’ve been used to promote. Hell, I love “We Belong Together” and “Obsessed,” and I support the Mariah who created them.

But is Carey really this deaf to what makes her early work successful? I guess so, since she unleashed this hideous hip-hop remix of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” almost 12 years ago. But at least that didn’t get it’s own highly-promoted music video.

I guess I should stop being shocked that Carey is devoid of sophistication. I mean, she is a 40 year-old woman who’s willing to tart it up in peekaboo Santa clothes with a teenage boy. And I guess I should assume this monstrosity will be quickly forgotten, while the original version of the song will live on for decades.

But still: I’m mad. I’m mad that an artist with so much talent could have so little class. I’m mad that the person behind the most important modern Christmas song doesn’t seem to appreciate what she’s created. I’m mad that from now on, whenever I listen to the original version of “All I Want For Christmas Is You,”  I might remember the terrible child it later spat into the world.

Recently, my mom mailed me some odds and ends from my childhood—old photos, favorite books, bits of writing, etc.

Imagine my amazement when I uncovered “Cinderella in ’88,” a story I wrote in 1988 that is remarkably prescient about the person I would become. Apparently, my core interests and my love of camp were already cemented when I was nine years old.

After the jump, I am happy to present this story in full. If you are a television or film executive, please email me to discuss development deals.

Note: Punctuation and phrasing are recreated exactly as they appear on the print-out my mom saved.

Cinderella in ’88

by Mark Blankenship (age 9)

One day in 1988 there was a maid. She had to clean all day. She had two wicked stepsisters and an awful father. She wanted to listen to Bon Jovi instead of clean, but all she had were some old Linda Ronstadt records.

One day a letter came. It was from Michael Jackson, inviting them to a concert.

“You can’t go!” said her stepsisters. “You have to paint our faces to glow in the dark. You’ve got to get hot pink socks for us to wear.”

Later that night a porsche drove up.

“We’ve got to go,” said the sisters.

“What about Father?” asked Cinderella.

“It’s my bowling night,” he replied.

“Oh.”

So Cinderella decided to watch some old westerns.

Suddenly a young man appeared!

He said, “I’m your wizard stepfather. Let’s go to the concert!”

“Dressed like this?” she asked doubtfully.

“They told me you would be picky in wizard school,” he grumbled.

“I thought you were supposed to make me the greatest one at the concert — turn a potato into a porsche and all that other neat stuff!”

“Now I remember,” he exclaimed.

“What’s my curfew?”

“Seven o’clock.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“Yes, Michael [Jackson's] bedtime.”

“Oh.”

She was the hottest thing at the concert. Once Michael asked her to dance. She said, “Bug off, bozo.”

Then she met a guy she really liked. They started seeing each other a lot. They got married. She got a singing contract. Now they are known as:

Sean Penn

and

Madonna

Moral: Success can come to those who are patient and clever

Hello everyone! Forgive my lengthy absence. Life has gotten wild recently.

But I’m back today with Roommate Joe to discuss last night’s announcement of the Grammy nominees. Take a look at who made the cut, then join Joe and me as we sort through our many thoughts and feelings. Be prepared for a shocking revelation about Katy Perry, a call to women everywhere, and a philosophical inquiry into the meaning of Skrillex.

Mark: For the first time in my life, I think the Grammys might be cooler than me this year. Not because I’m SO cool or anything, but because instead of Tony Bennett and Raising Sand, they’re nominating Bon Iver and Skrillex.(Skrillex!)

Joe: Okay, Skrillex is one of those things I am not sure is actually a thing.

Mark: Normally, when there’s a Record or Song of the Year nominee I’ve never heard, it’s by Norah Jones and my aunt Dorothy loves it. This year, it’s that Bon Iver song.

Joe: I think Bon Iver is super boring. But as far as nominees I’m not into go, I’m glad they’re going in that direction.

Mark: Exactly! I agree. I don’t care for any of the Bon Iver songs I’ve heard, and I’ve given Skrillex many chances on iTunes.

Joe: SKRILLEX IS NOT A THING. It’s just letters mashed together!

Mark: Hahaha! The Skillers. Skill Skott. Skamy Skwinehouse.  But anyway: Bon Iver and Skilly Skill are not for me. But I’d MUCH rather have the left-field nominations be for out-there dance and alt-rock artists than for the dusty bones of Paul Simon. It’s about looking forward, for once, instead of looking back.

Joe: Toootally. Especially when they had Tony Bennett right there. But here’s my question: What is with the ambivalence to Lady Gaga? They clearly like her some. They keep throwing her album nominations. But then she goes and creates perfect pop songs like “Bad Romance” and “Edge of Glory” and… nothing.

Mark: Well, according to what I’ve been reading, she did not submit “Edge of Glory” for Record or Song of the Year. Instead, she submitted “You and I” and “Judas.” So if an artist doesn’t submit a song for consideration in a category, it can’t be nominated

Joe: Well that’s just ridiculous. Between that and the lackluster video, it’s like SHE doesn’t even like that song.

Mark: Don’t even get me started on the video. The biggest missed opportunity of 2011.

Joe: For real. If that gets a good video, it’s inescapable.

Mark: Oh, that reminds me. The great irony of the Best Shortform Video category is that Lady Gaga wasn’t nominated, but Weird Al WAS for nominated his Gaga parody.

Joe: Oh for Pete’s…

Mark: But to go back to the main categories, if I may.

Joe: Please!

Mark: It’s pretty awesome that the obvious frontrunner who’s going to make the night really predictable is Adele. Because Adele is (a) relevant and (b) spectacular. And as you know, all I ask for from this damn show is that they nominate something that feels relevant.

Joe: Yup.

Mark: I also appreciate that Rihanna has taken over Katy Perry’s slot in the “egregious album of the year” nomination. While Katy Perry has suddenly become a deserved member of the “actually good nominees” club.

Joe: But at least that Rihanna album has its ardent defenders.

Mark: True.

Joe: Here’s my one niggling complaint with Record and Song of the Year: I don’t like “Grenade.”

Mark: GET THEE HENCE AWAY FROM ME, DEMON.

Joe: I don’t mind Bruno Mars in general, but that song does nothing for me.

Mark: I can’t go on that ride with you, but I support your right to travel. Personally, I don’t care that Kanye West got “snubbed” for Album of the Year. I didn’t care for that album, though many people loved it.

Oh, and I appreciate what you emailed me last night, about the unnecessary distinction between Alt Rock and Rock.

Joe: I just…I guess there used to be a difference? In the ’90s? But now it’s just splitting unnecessary hairs. Rock is diversified, yes, but no more so than pop. Or country even. And when Radiohead is nominated for Best Alternative Album but also Best Rock Performance, it’s really absurd.

Mark: They just eliminated a lot of the R&B fields for that very reason.

Joe: Oh yeah? Explain.

Mark: Last year, there were, like, 8 different “types” of R&B. Now, there are just two: “old school” and “new school.” For that reason, I think, the “new school” R&B field is crazypants. It reminds me how many R&B artists never breaks through to the mainstream. This year, Beyonce got almost no nominations, but Kelly Price’s song “Not My Daddy” cleaned up. And… um… Kelly Price? She’s still around?

Joe: I can see the Chris Brown win coming. You think they’ll put that on the broadcast?

Mark: Sigh Probably. I’m still not ready for the Dance of Forgiveness.

Joe: I might be if he’d actually do the Dance of Atonement and mean it.He’s doesn’t.

Mark: EXACTLY. He keeps going on about how he’s the victim.

Joe: Fuck All My Enemies? Go fuck yourself, little man.

More importantly: Ask me who I would vote for in Pop Solo Performance.

Mark: Which song gets your vote?

Joe: I CAN’T CHOOSE. Like…I can’t. Adele? Pink? “Firework?” Gaga? No. Four-way tie.

Mark: If you forced me to choose two, I’d go for Pink and Adele. But I’d be sad because I also really like “Grenade.”

Joe: But then “Firework!” I hate “honoring” Katy Perry, but that song was a hot hit.

Mark: SO hot. This whole year could be subtitled “The Year That Katy Perry Wore Me Down.” I even wrote about disliking “Firework” last year, but then… um… it got me.

Joe: All her songs eventually do, for me. Except “I Kissed a Girl.”

Mark: Boo for that song. Forever hate. That song is why I will always feel a little bad about liking her other songs.

Joe: Everything else follows the Katy Perry Wear-Down Cycle. Even “Last Friday Night,” which I HATED.

Mark: I did too! And then, whoops. I downloaded it. And that new song, “The One That Got Away?” I liked it right out of the gate.

Joe: Oooh, I am still in the “ignore” stage of the cycle on that one. 1) Ignore. 2) Hate. 3) Repetition. 4) Softening. 5) Ardent Affection and Excuse-Making.

Mark: So you know how I always root for the women on quiz and reality shows because I feel like it somehow expiates centuries of oppression when they win?

Joe: I slightly picked up on that, yes.

Mark: Well, the Grammys did my heart a service this year by combining all the solo fields into single, genderless categories and
then nominating mostly women.

Joe: I noticed that!

Mark: Case in point: Solo Country Performance. Women always struggle in that genre, at least on the radio, but the Grammys are suggesting that women made 3 0f the 5 best solo country records this year. It’s great that Martina McBride’s excellent and moving song “I’m Gonna Love You Through It,” which hasn’t hit the top ten, still made the cut. It seems like more of an accomplishment when the men were in the mix, too.

Joe: Still, I don’t want the Oscars or Emmys to get any ideas. Gendered categories = more nominees, and I need that.

Mark: But really: Did you need more Grammy nominees?

Joe: But that’s not a problem with the Grammys and their 800 categories.

Jinx!

Mark: Hahaha! Instead of “jinx,” we should just say “Skrillex.”