2001 Top 20 Singles

[11] Macy Gray featuring Erykah Badu, ‘Sweet Baby’

1999’s …On How Life Is was an astounding success, a must-have and a false dawn; the sort of shot in a million that gives Second Album Syndrome a feast to feed off. Macy was in no mood to let anyone down and steamed right in with The Id, a funk-led mess that put her up there with Terence Trent D’Arby in the “oops – there goes that advance” pantheon of sophomore flops. A distinction she didn’t share with TTD was the sad truth her album wasn’t all that great anyway – but ‘Sweet Baby’ is.

Cut from the classic soul pattern, this is lush, heartfelt, teasing and sincere. Junior locked into the gentle sway of the verse/chorus/verse before whipping out the plastic guitar with its searing choice of plastic riff buttons for the second chorus – just in time for the still-relaxed beat to kick in, and to match Chili Pepper John Frusciante lick for lick.

Erykah Badu’s role is to provide an improbable second Ella Fitzgerald via Walt Disney vocal to support Macy’s, erm, Ella Fitzgerald via Walt Disney lead. It’s an equally improbably gorgeous mix. In the second half, Badu keeps the song honest while Gray lets loose with her Id, and we all love her now and ever.

[12] Basement Jaxx, ‘Romeo’

A thoroughly appealing waft of nothing, featuring a pretty guest turn from whatever-happened-to Kele Le Roc. I like Basement Jaxx – they’re always fun, without ever being truly naff. Junior bopped about for the whole song, even trying to drag her four-month-old sister off the playmate to join in. That, like Kele’s career, was nipped in the bud.

[13] Roots Manuva, ‘Witness (1 Hope)’

And at unlucky number 13 we have the UK hip-hop industry. “Britain’s best rapper” – yes, sorry to break it to you, Dizzee Rascal, Lady Sovereign, Derek B, Daz Sampson, Simon Le Bon, Robbie Williams etc, but he just is – was born Rodney Smith; not as silly a name as his US equivalents Calvin and Tracy (here’s looking at you, Snoop and Ice-T), but certainly a moniker designed to undercut any gangsta pretensions. Luckily, Rodders is above all that, preferring hard-nosed social commentary, homegrown grooves, and salt of the earth shout-outs to “ten pints of bitter” and “cheese on toast”.

Junior and I do the giant stomp to the sinister beats, eerie harp samples and menacing yet tinny synths that sound like the march of the Federation soldiers in Blake’s 7. ‘Witness (1 Hope)’ is a chunky, phat-farming bounce.

The fact it reached No.45 on the singles chart shows how UK hip-hop bangs its head off a brick wall. The fact it took the sticky paw of novelty popsmith Calvin Harris to usher Dizzee Rascal to No.1 shows how UK hip-hop holds its hands up in surrender.

[14] Sophie Ellis-Bextor, ‘Murder On The Dancefloor’

Polite reaction for a polite girl; Junior shimmied her shoulders briefly before refocusing attention on her Rice Krispies. At the end of the track she turned around and asked, “Did you like that song, Mummy?” – and Mummy admitted that she did. In all, a rigorous assessment befitting our faintly schoolmarmy disco diva.

After the misfire of theaudience, Soph was fortunate to meet 12-foot DJ Spiller who helped her find her niche immediately. It’s beyond question that Janet Ellis’s willowy, prim and stunning daughter was born to be a dance-pop queen of some stature – all icy style and no weighty substance – and ‘Groovejet’ sealed the deal. That she attempted to go all Swing Out Sister with solo debut proper ‘Take Me Home’ was a damp squib of a miscalculation, but ‘Murder On The Dancefloor’ was swift to claw back the ground.

It’s an odd single – on the face of it, it’s bloody ridiculous, but if you squint just a little and swallow the haughty “real Posh Spice” shtick whole, then you can pretend it’s a glossy sliver of genius. We’re concentrating hard.

[15] Nelly, ‘Ride Wit Me’

With his face covered in elastoplast and his general goofing, Nelly’s a bit of a maverick – or a pain in the neck, if you prefer. He came sing-rapping onto the mainstream scene at about this time, and the bluegrass sway and earworm chorus of ‘Ride Wit Me’ cemented his place in the pantheon of remorselessly commercial hip-hop gadabouts. Honourable props to ‘E.I.’ too, and the breath of fresh air that is ‘Country Grammar’ – the latter nicked, so Junior’s mum tells me, from Tom Hanks’ finest career monument, Big. That’s the kind of anti-cool we’re dealing with here.

Junior was sent to her room for deliberately breaking her bracelet, while Junior 2 demonstrated her new ninja rolling skillz. Somehow you can imagine Nelly doing both.

[16] Fischerspooner, ‘Emerge’

I think we’re meant to laugh at Fisherspooner. The thing is, there’s a touch of the thrilling about ‘Emerge’, tinky-tonky synths and headlong bounce-around looking for a tune notwithstanding. It sounds like it might be wincingly cutting edge while looking fantastically naff at the same time, and – hey – that’s something we all aspire to, right?

Anyway, they burned brightly for a picosecond then suddenly everyone – yes, even the NME – realised they didn’t care a stuff about them after all. Casey Spooner changed his image with the weather, but all to no avail; the world decided that speed-freak Human League cast-offs were no longer the thing. Electroclash, we called it. Or they called it. Someone called it. Now it’s bleedin’ everywhere, only without a name. That ‘80s revival happened long after we gave up trying.

Junior did a spacey sway to the chopstick synths and lost interest by the time the vocal crept in. Satire? It’s in the rudest of health.

[17] Daft Punk, ‘Aerodynamic’

Daft Punk were all about da funk and da cut-up grooves and da samples and da general messiness – and then along came second album Discovery and it was all shiny beats and bass so clean you could use it as a straw. After the outrageous party filter disco of 2000’s ‘One More Time’ wiped out the less extrovert Homework fans, along came ‘Aerodynamic’ to scare off the rest with widdly Yngwie Malmsteen guitars and just-this-side-of-naff classical fancies. Somehow, it ROCKED.

Junior’s an old slowhand at the air guitar so was happy to demonstrate her prowess; she learned how to say “Daft Punk” before doing the unprecedented (I think – someone check the archives) and asking for the track to be played again. Above all, she was very taken with the CD cover and propped it up next to her paintbox on her little table. She admired the name rendered in glossiest mercury, a visual aid to da Punk’s wild, bright, fluid, new disco palette.

[19] The Avalanches, ‘Frontier Psychiatrist’

Junior ran the rule over this yesterday, on her third birthday. She’s come a long way since she was ruthlessly tearing a strip off Julie Andrews and Antipop Consortium (separate singles, not some breathtaking minimalist hip-hop/prim-yet-somehow-racy-nun mash-up) when she was 20 weeks old. Her critical faculties have sharpened, perhaps, but right now she dances to pretty much everything, willy-nilly. ‘Frontier Psychiatrist’ witnessed some wiggling about and a dashed-off mime to a violin sample, before she returned to the more demanding matter of unwrapping piles of presents.

It’s a silly record, representative of its parent album Since I Left You only by dint of the ear-popping collage of samples. ‘Frontier Psychiatrist’ is a bit Fatboy Slim; Since I Left You is warm, inspired, mood-driven and dazzling. If I were the type to stat these things up and make list upon list – and I am – I’d say it’s not just the album of 2001, it’s the album of the century so far. From the thrilling four-song build-up to ‘A Different Feeling’ to the gorgeous come-down of ‘Summer Crane’, ‘Etoh’ and ‘Three Kings’, it’s a seamless tapestry of ideas, emotions and balls-out party fun. Where’s the follow-up, lads? If they’re making one – and they occasionally insist they are, still – they must be clearing even more samples this time.

As the vinyl presence in charity shops starts to dwindle, you have to fear for The Avalanches’ source material. I might beat them to the punch myself, cutting up rough with those 93 BBC sound effects 7”s I bought in Oxfam last year…

[20] Kelis, ‘Young, Fresh n’ New’

And she was too, but already the dread hand of age, staleness and obsolescence (don’t pretend you haven’t felt its clammy touch) was reaching out for her. Kelis was hamstrung from the start – you try following the wondrous space-hop of 1999’s Kaleidoscope without sounding as if you’re flailing at former glories. The Neptunes made their name there, and they’re all over Wanderland (which this single fanfared) too, but even the brassy sci-fi blare of ‘Young Fresh n’ New’ cannot hide the slow fade. This cut is immediate, bold and proud. Even so, it leaves the slightest of traces and scrapes the 20 here, mainly cos respec’ iz due.

In devastating parallel, Junior wigs out arms akimbo to the first few synth blasts before stopping just as suddenly, forgetting all about Kelis’s howl of youthful anguish, and heading back to her remastered Shreddies. They have fruit stuffed in them and she thinks they’re sausage rolls. I’d imagine they leave a more lingering taste than this record, no matter how much fun it is for just that little while, or how much soul Kelis tries to squeeze in.

Of course, she came back hard with ‘Milkshake’. Everyone loves a bit of smut.