[40] Radiohead, ‘There There’

There There

The one surefooted monster among Hail To The Thief’s dreary missteps, ‘There There’ finds time to play at Bjork’s ‘Human Behaviour’ before letting rip with fiery guitars and palpable thrills. It reminds me of painting my old flat. So does that Zwan album. Decorating in 2003 was all about suspiciously lumpen, sneakily enjoyable rock.

Junior says: “When’s the good bit?” I’d built Thom and Jonny’s axe-clash up a bit. She also suffered a potential lethal blow to her nascent understanding of mathematics, when reading ‘2 + 2 = 5’ on the CD cover.

Best bit: When it cuts loose, obviously.

[41] Aaliyah, ‘Try Again’

Try Again

What a damn shame. The Noughties were made for Aaliyah, weren’t they? The slinky R&B diva bending chromium beats to her will. Instead, Timbaland had to resort to making a just-about-convincing coldhearted Maneater out of Nelly Furtado. Here’s what happened back in March 2007 when we covered ‘Try Again’ for the 2000 countdown on the old blog:

“Robot pop. Not an ounce of humanity in it unless you’re counting Aaliyah’s soulless croon. Timbaland is the techno Dr Frankenstein and ‘Try Again’ is a wired-up, machine-spliced monster. Magnificent. Junior didn’t listen to one icily syncopated note, but can say “Aaliyah”.”

And now?

Junior says: “Aaliyah,” with a little more clarity. She’s sorry to hear about her early demise – we let that one slip, but four-year-olds are pretty sang-froid – mainly because she enjoys the dancing in the video (Jukebox Junior is well multimedia in 2010).

Best bit: It goes nowhere except, well, the outer reaches of the solar system. It’s consistently at its best.

[42] CSS, ‘Let’s Make Love And Listen To Death From Above’

We covered her ears for the first bit

She might be a tiny bit on the minxy side with her endless array of catsuits, but it’s hard to imagine Lovefoxxx saying “Let’s make love” with any great degree of conviction. She’s too button-cute. Still, this wriggles, writhes and never palls with second, third, fourth helpings. Very Tom Tom Club, very sweet, very unconvincing – all the better for Junior to fail to understand the sentiments (except the listening to Death From Above bit; we’re OK with that).

Junior says: “It’s great, really great,” possibly as an act of appeasement. Although she and her sister did push the envelope of silliness with their crazed dance.

Best bit: “Curmback”.

[43] Gnarls Barkley, ‘Crazy’

I think this is meant to be the single of the millennium so far. Oops. Seeing as a James Blunt single was in very vague contention for the rundown, we can safely say we’re not sticking to a tasteful script. For all dodgy heart conditions out there however, here’s a promise that Captain Blunty has not made the cut; instead, a perfectly respectable showing for the Gnarls fellows and their nigh-on uncategorisable chunk of hip hop indie soul (OK, lazily categorisable). While it’s been all downhill from here for the duo together, Danger Mouse has used ‘Crazy’ as a handy springboard for all sorts of lucrative cool-cachet producer gigs, our favourite of which is The Shortwave Set’s Replica Sun Machine. That’s “lucrative” in its broadest sense. Opposite sense.

Junior says: “I’ve heard this before.” I think we can all get with that. She gives it the shoulders, which, again, we’ve all done.

Best bit: 1. The opening thumps; 2. The almost-fact that we’re gearing up to churning out one of these posts a day. We’d better, or it’ll run headlong into the 2010 countdown.

[44] Madonna, ‘Music’

Right back on track after Ray Of Light, Madonna shed the pretend hippie skin once more and sunk her teeth into the dancefloor like never before since Vogue. A squirty disco match-up with Mirwais, Music jacks your body. It still sounds as fresh as Michelle Gayle in Grange Hill. Or was she Fly?

Junior says: “Her skin looks lovely,” on the cover, that is. And, “Play it again.”

Best bit: Space Odyssey synths.

[45] Rufus Wainwright, ‘I Don’t Know What It Is’

Straight Outta Kansas

I know what it is: a full-blown musical in miniature; a camp, puffed-chest symphony of the psyche; a soaring, sweet folly that exercises pop immediacy while decked out like a gaudy indulgence. If that’s not too many adjectives. Every time I remember this, I tend to listen to it again and again and end up with an ice-cream headache.

Junior says: “Aw,” when it finishes. At other points she lip-synchs along with words she doesn’t know and waves her hands to the strings.

Best bit: “Slightly mysterious BRUISES”.

[46] Franz Ferdinand, ‘Take Me Out’

Take Me Out

Wasn’t it lovely to see such well-turned-out boys doing synchronised dance moves with their guitars, like a bank-clerk Status Quo? A glossy take on antecedents Orange Juice and Josef K, they were a British (not Scottish; come on, the whole union supports them when they’re successful) counterpoint to scuzzier new wave revivalists from the States, with grooves, tunes, wit and freshness to make them appear original. Somehow it’s been an exercise in water-treading since, but ‘Take Me Out’ still buzzes – although oddly, it sounds slower now.

Junior says: Nothing. Her feet do the talking, as do her sister’s. Synchronised. Music for girls to dance to.

Best bit: The hulking riff we’ve all been waiting for. We know it’s coming and we build up to it like we’re in Toy Dolls.

[47] Nelly, ‘Hot In Herre’

Hot In Herre

The Neptunes make St Louis chancer sound like the bleeding edge of R&B. Everyone else squeals, “I think my butt’s getting big!” and jacks their body like this is the most groovalicious, dunderheaded, irresistible cut in years – which it is.

Junior says: “It’s normal.” I guess it is now; those Neptunes made their bag the norm. She also appears to be bogling. That’s primary school for you.

Best bit: “Unless you gon’ do it.”

[48] Robbie Williams, ‘Rock DJ’

Sausages

Top of the world, ma. Williams was at that point where he could release a fart and it’d waft merrily to No.1; somewhat like ‘Faith’-era George Michael, except ‘Faith’ stalled at No.2. But you get the drift. ‘Rock DJ’ is no mere emission – it’s a cocky summing-up of our man’s place in the world at the turn of the century, and yes, that place is somewhere beneath a heap of writhing groupies. A punishing bassline, lyrics that sound as if they were thrown together while he was at the bottom of that pile, rapping that would make even the great John Barnes wince – it all adds up to a will-this-do? that certainly does.

Junior says: Of the single sleeve, “It looks like sausages.” OK. No real comment on the song, but she and her sister danced around in circles, like Robbie but without the tiger pants.

Best bit: Yes. All a bit downhill for the lad after this.

[49] Jenny Lewis with The Watson Twins, ‘Rise Up With Fists!!’

I didn’t mean to do it, but this is Bright Eyes all over again. Most of them anyway, plus M Ward. OK, that makes this Jenny Lewis with The Watson Twins and Monsters Of Folk. Like the album though, it’s Jenny Lewis all over, the Rilo Kiley singer’s pure tones rendering all things beautiful – and slightly sarcastic. Here she takes her sweet heart of the rodeo on a grapple with the buffeting forces of religion and hypocrisy, coming out bloodied but unbowed and with a nice country ballad to show for it. Everyone wins.

Junior says: “It’s quite pretty, isn’t it, Mummy?” She wasn’t talking to me. Conceding it’s “slow”, she turns her attention to the cover, noting that the ladies with Jenny are twins, because “they have the same handbag”.

Best bit: Jenny demurs, leaving The Watson Twins to trill the accusing “not your wife”.