#310. Arcade Fire - Everything Now (#65, 2017)
34th of 2017
Arcade Fire's song "Rebellion (Lies)" appears in a Season 5 episode of Six Feet Under. It's diegetic as it's playing in the background during Nate's 40th birthday party. Everyone's trying to keep it together while there's a feeling of unease going around for multiple reasons. At one point a magpie flies into the house and after some attempts to peacefully shoo it back outside, Nate ends up killing it and putting it in the garbage. It's an omen and a half for what's going to take place as the show starts to wrap up from there. "Rebellion (Lies)" plays again over the credits. I can't properly cast my mind back to 2005, but I like to imagine it's one of many specific examples that put them on the map.
The rise and fall of Arcade Fire is one of the great musical tragedies of the 21st century. Maybe it's not a tragedy if you're not interested or if you think certain people got what was coming to them, but if you were invested, it's a monumental bust. It's like finding out the captain of your favourite sports team is a serial womaniser, again. Just takes the wind out of the sails of past triumph. In 2011, Arcade Fire were standing in front of all the biggest stars in music to accept a GRAMMY Award for Album Of The Year, and it was all downhill from there.
This is one of the shining examples of a downfall that's incredibly hard to come back from. It's one thing to put out an album that isn't very well received. It's another to be courting unflattering controversy. Do both at the same time and suddenly your biggest fans are abandoning you left, right and centre, or otherwise sticking around to watch the collapse. Look, there's a part of me that will gladly look back over the highs of the Arcade Fire experience in a future entry (they'll have two more songs after this one). In the meantime, I've spent quite a long time being very mad about the whole ordeal and what better place to get that out? On one hand, the albums were gradually getting worse, but now a pattern tends to emerge with that cycle. Underwhelming album followed by some news that puts Win Butler in a bad light. The more I see, the worse it gets. Late last year, Win & Regine finally divorced and it feels likely they'll never put out another album, leaving it all on a very underwhelming whimper of a final album. I have to be the one who breaks this news because hardly anyone actually listened to it. They went from a #1 album in the US and #2 in Australia, to not even being able to chart in either country two albums later. You can owe some of that to the streaming tide, but they're not making up any ground on the vinyl resurgence because I just can't imagine wanting to buy into the brand anymore. At least Six Feet Under ended on an absolute triumph.
Your mileage may vary on the pace of it all, but for me, "Everything Now" (the album) was the major red flag. A band capable of some of the most soaring possible highs was reduced to being so utterly unremarkable in a flash. All the ambition, really any reason to listen to the band at all just vanished. What few small highlights could be found never wormed their way into essential listening for me and were surrounded by a nightmare rotation of bad decisions and out of touch misfires that I can't think of them in isolation from that. "Everything Now" (the song)? Pretty good. "Put Your Money On Me"? Pretty good. But wow, the ceiling sure had a few mezzanines installed under it.
Even with this in mind, I find it hard to get behind "Everything Now" the way I'm probably supposed to. A nice bit of fun at first, a bit of ABBA's "Dancing Queen" via Arcade Fire but they mostly get the memo. It even became a little bit of a crossover hit which was interesting, but for a band that so rarely take that leap, I probably would have preferred if it was someone else's song. I guess I feel for anyone who got into the band on the back of it. This song truly is the front side of the disaster liposuction Homer Simpson meme.
#309. Bring Me The Horizon - Happy Song (#86, 2015)
40th of 2015
I've always been truly fascinated by songs that push the limits on how short they can make their verses. I think I first noticed it when Kings of Leon put out "Radioactive" (imagine if they actually polled with "Supersoaker", I'd have them on redacted watch for so long). The instrumentals drag it out a little, but you still end up with two verses at the start that are two lines apiece, 13 words each! I get that there can be a shared understanding between the artist and audience that the big chorus is what you're there for, but it can get just a little bit distracting when you start to notice it.
Bring Me The Horizon put their own spin on it with "Happy Song". There are definitely more words, and I might be generous enough to say they pull it up to 3 lines. On the other hand, if you count the seconds from when Oli starts singing to when he starts belting, you might be lucky to get up to 11 seconds. Then the second verse comes in and I'm not even sure they crack 10 seconds. There's probably a valid meta interpretation of this. "Happy Song" is not actually a happy song, but one about being told to smile through the pain. Just engage with the things that are supposed to cheer you up and it'll just happen (or at least, the outsider won't have to tackle the issue as it appears fixed. I dare say this might not be the last time I say something like that.
When this song was first released, we were still pretty early in the secondary transitional phase of Bring Me The Horizon. It was one of the songs that helped sell me on the idea of it a little better though. They hadn't changed a lot; they were just having a bit more fun with it. "Happy Song" is something that could be a disaster if not handled correctly. Perhaps their most shameless crossover attempt on the surface, but it's those contrasts between light & dark that I find a lot to get out of it. Just a very reliable rush of energy in a bite sized package (you'd never think the song is just shy of 4 minutes, it just breezes by).
#308. Maggie Rogers - Alaska (#64, 2016)
32nd of 2016
Whenever I watch singing talent shows, there tends to be one judge who's infamous for being the mean one. It's a trope that's codified by Simon Cowell and spread out from there. They tend to be the last one to chime in because whether you love them or you hate them, they're the one you feel won't hold back and might come up with some creative adjectives to utterly annihilate someone for the crime of making you hear them sing for a minute on national television. At the end of the day, these shows gained their notoriety through their eventual product, so the Simon Cowell serves a second purpose. After the potluck fun of the auditions, it tends to get a bit harder for them to keep up the act. They've already gotten rid of the people they don't like, that was the point. Now the criticism is more constructive, and maybe they'll even find some compliments. What better way to sell the star quality of their finalists by showing that even the hardest shell has started to break. Then the other judges need to up the stakes too, perhaps they get a little emotional.
This formula might just be why any of us have heard of Maggie Rogers or "Alaska". In March 2016, the NYU Clive Davis Institute had a masterclass with Pharrell Williams, where he hung out with young musicians, listened to their music and gave feedback. It's probably not anything that would have gotten any wider attention if not for one moment. If you watch the video, you're introduced to a musician who grew up playing the banjo and making folk music, but had a spiritual awakening in France listening to EDM music and wanted to incorporate it into her music. Up to this point, Pharrell has been pretty positive about the students' music while offering constructive feedback (if you haven't gone back to the video since 2016 or just never watched the whole thing, you'll also spot a young Cafuné). When this next song gets played, you can tell pretty quickly that he's floored. Maggie is sitting next to him being adorably wholesome and Pharrell is trying to hide his visceral reaction to it. He offers no notes and compares the experience to the arrival of the Wu-Tang Clan, where there's just no point of comparison and no way to actually critique it. Those talent shows I talked about earlier are in the interest of manufacturing these kinds of moments, to the point that they probably wore themselves out and it no longer feels genuine. When it instead comes from something like this, where there's no specific profit margin trying to be met in the moment, it feels so much more real. If you want though, the set up for a joke is all there when you realise Pharrell is wearing a hat that says 'PLANT' on it.
Three months later and Maggie Rogers was properly integrated into the system. She's never blown up to an unavoidable degree, but she's been on the radio, scored some chart appearances and got nominated for Best New Artist at the GRAMMYs (in 2020, naturally). Last year she collaborated with the Dalai Lama. I'm sure to her it's just a remarkable build-up of chance encounters, but it's still a future of which she constructed the foundation for when she wrote "Alaska".
One of the most interesting things about music is the way that our past experiences shape our responses. I often wonder if consensus raving comes about because a lot of people are steered into hearing a very similar subset of music, and how if you're ever feeling estranged by it all, it's because you've taken the road less travelled. I've seen people describe "Alaska" as boiler plate indie pop, and maybe it is, but how much indie pop does the average person actually come across? I've often wondered if you can get a distorted view just from what gets popular, which aren't always the most representative examples. In the case of Pharrell, I can imagine his expertise lies elsewhere, but maybe he was just thrown for a loop because of how it was described initially. He compares Maggie's notion of genre blending to what Avicii had done on his "True" album, so I can imagine some difficult adjusting to something that's clearly not operating the same way.
I've always thought "Alaska" stood out though. Not necessarily for the general sound of it, but it's got one of those killer hooks that everyone wishes they came up with. It operates ironically and counterintuitively because Maggie raises her voice in a way that's difficult to make the words out, but there's nothing interchangeable about it at all. I wouldn't say I had the same profound experience, but then to be fair I'm not above it, and it's probably a good analogue for how I felt about her next single "Dog Years". It's one of the finest inclusions on my 'I know, I know, I know' playlist, which I'm sure I'll bring up again because one of those songs is in this list and I'm writing down a note right now to bring it up. I'm not a Maggie Rogers devout or anything but she's had a good run and every few years she'll put out something that really gets me off-guard. Sign me up for more of this.
#307. Tame Impala - No Choice (#73, 2022)
25th of 2022
Many moons ago when the last Hottest 100 list we had circulating was the 2010 one, I tried ranking it for fun. Shockingly, rather than take years, I managed to get it done in probably about half an hour. I don't remember the details of it and I can't imagine it's aged terrifically, but I remember taking a parting shot at Tame Impala. My thought was that of all the songs on that list, "Lucidity" was the most redundant. It's the one that the fewest people would miss if it wasn't there, and the one that felt the least essential. It wasn't at all my least favourite song there, but it was just there. I don't think the statement really holds up, mainly because I'm not sure I'd try to foist that title onto anything. "Lucidity" isn't my favourite track from "InnerSpeaker" but it does cut it down to a nice segment. It continues to sound better and better as Tame Impala continues to no longer sound like it.
This was all something I just recalled independently when I was thinking of ways to open this entry. Which is all to say that I remembered it after I was thinking about "No Choice" which itself could be a solid contender for the most forgettable song in this list. Perhaps you got an increasingly large number of people to hold similar rankings for this set of songs, "No Choice" might be the one I'm least expecting to top anyone's list. There are already so many Tame Impala songs to choose from, and this is just a B-side for one of the less beloved albums. It gets through on the strength of being the Tame Impala song to vote for in 2022, besides "New Gold" (#432). A while back I was talking about the discrepancy between triple j & Double J with respect to the Tame Impala songs that get played on the two stations. "No Choice" is the biggest point of difference. It couldn't get bigger if it tried! "No Choice" is the most played song this decade so far by Tame Impala on triple j. It's never been played on Double J, not once. I don't think of this as reflecting the content of the song at all, but just the nature of the release. It's a song that so easily slips through the cracks, you wouldn't notice it if it wasn't there.
For me, it got me thinking about the potential slide in quality for artists over time. How many times have you heard someone say they haven't liked anything from an artist since [a long time ago]? Maybe you've thought it yourself. When I hear it, I just imagine someone relentlessly continuing to soldier on, trying out every new release from this artist and feeling a new wave of disappointment each time. It's comical to imagine it, but it's something that doesn't feel genuine or fair. How could any artist, previously on the nice list just monumentally fail to connect so many times in a row? It's a statistical near impossibility. It probably means that either the artist or listener has changed in some way in the ensuing years, but often times you can see these artists going through such a phase and not have their audience numbers be particularly hampered. That's what makes it feel more personal, watching everyone merrily continue to listen as if nothing has changed.
I haven't really enjoyed the last two Tame Impala albums. Admittedly there were worrying signs on "Currents" as well, but there are enough positives to redeem that project (three more songs coming on this list by the way). "The Slow Rush" was still passable but the highlights were fewer and felt more like mediumlights. "Deadbeat" I just don't really gel with at all. You can't catch me ever willingly listening to any of it. So we've got a pretty steady downward slide while Tame Impala continues to see strong chart performances and is in no danger of sputtering out (just scored an equal highest charting hit this week in Australia). I'm the issue here. It sucks though because it starts to feel like my brain won't actually let me enjoy new Tame Impala music. It starts to feel like a modest reflection on my overall views of the project over time, rather than assessing everything on its own merit. I really want to believe there's another knockout punch coming in the future, but when I think of it like this, I start to wonder if I'd even allow the possibility.
The unlikely hero here is actually "No Choice". It's not anything I'd ever paid close attention to at the time, until it became just another also-ran for this collection. New stat sheet padding hit for Tame Impala? Sure, I'll just go through the motions with it and give it the same amount of investment as everyone else has, not very much. I said this is a song that probably no one would put at #1 on their list, and I probably stick by that, because this has all the makings of a song that you just have to deal with, chuck out and move on. It's there to be unceremoniously eliminated somewhere in the middle of the Tame Impala song eliminator forum game. No one feels compelled to give it an extra chance because there are no stakes attached to it.
Anyway, what if "No Choice" was actually really good? Like, it has no business putting itself out there like that, but somehow it provides a strange redemption for "The Slow Rush". It's running with the same playbook we're used to seeing in the 2020s, cute little falsetto hook over a more playful beat. Tame Impala oldheads get thrown a little bone with the guitar solos, and I do like them, but I don't think they're what won me over. It just feels like out of all the Tame Impala songs under this template, this is the one that gets drilled into my head. This is that earworm that I love to revisit. It ended up being a huge bolter for this list because I'd given it so little thought before. I don't want to just penalise something for doing its own thing with very little cultural impact, otherwise this list would look mighty different.
#306. Stace Cadet & KLP - Energy (#21, 2020)
22nd of 2020
For as long as I've listened to triple j, they've had an editorial policy on the music they play. Simply that no presenter is allowed to play their own music. It's pretty straightforward and makes sense, but it's always struck me as funny when the presenters in question do have new music going around. I first started listening in 2006 when Jay & Lindsay from Frenzal Rhomb were hosting the breakfast show. Frenzal Rhomb had also just put out a new album and I knew this because I heard their music on triple j, just never on the breakfast show. It ends up feeling like a strange loophole that prevents something that's readily getting played on the station from being heard for a wide stretch of the day, perhaps hampering the exposure. It wasn't just them though, Ash Grunwald used to host Roots 'N' All, and Hau from Koolism was a long term host for The Hip Hop Show. Double J presenter Tim Shiel made music that I always thought was best suited to be heard on the segment he hosted, alas.
KLP was also part of this crew for a while. I still think of her as the House Party host first and a musician in her own right second, even if the relative tenures are considerably different in length at this point. She wrapped up her hosting duties in 2018 and I figured that would be the last I hear from her. Maybe she'd keep making music but she wasn't setting the charts alight before, and there was no reason to think that'd ever change. Especially in her field, it's usually the young upstarts that get all the attention. I guess that's also a cheat code sometimes.
The shackles were removed for "Energy" and it was able to be played at all hours of the day on triple j. I'm sure they'd find a way to play it on Hack if they could. It ended up being one of the most played songs on triple j for all of 2020, I've got it ranked 4th. It wasn't just random filler though, as it converted the airplay into some genuine popularity. It reached the ARIA Charts for a bit, and has been certified Platinum, though it wouldn't surprise me if that's outdated. Nothing else ever reached these highs for Stace Cadet afterwards, but you look at who it's sitting alongside in that year's Hottest 100 and I've got to commend the excellent job at pushing it to reach its absolute potential. You just don't tend to see success stories like that anymore.
If I want to talk about marketing though, I do think it's a song that has its own branding on lock. They've carved out a specific niche of monkeys playing cymbals that I don't think I'll ever be able to disassociate. For the past 6 years I've been unable to look at one of those things and think anything other than 'every time you're touching me, your loving gives me energy'. Just absolutely spot on, it's the perfect song for it. It feels like a throwback to the era when music videos and physical singles were more important, and you might see some shared branding between them to catch your eye on the shelves. There isn't actually a music video for this song, but we do have a lyric video that absolutely looks like a late night Rage fever dream. It all just works. There aren't many elements to the song, but they know when to bring them in and take them away, platonic ideal for a song that doesn't really have any verses.









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