I briefly considered writing about my top ten favorite album of 2009, but since am not good at picking favorites or putting things into hierarchies, I made this mix of my favorite moments from my favorite 25 albums of 2009. If pressed, I could look in the play count of songs in my 2009 smart playlist in iTunes, which will tell you that Neko Case’s “Middle Cyclone” and Jay-Z’s “The Blueprint III” are about neck and neck in terms of listens. Neko is a little ahead, actually, but seeing as how her album had about a four month head start over Hova’s, I think it’s fair to say that those two albums tie for my favorite.

They represent sort of opposite ends of my consciousness and aesthetic sense, but also, a heartening breakdown of the social, racial and aesthetic walls of genre. On the one side is Neko’s lush, haunting masterwork, in my opinion an album worthy of standing next to Paul Simon’s “Rhythm of the Saints,” Johnny Cash’s “American Recordings,” and Over the Rhine’s “Good Dog Bad Dog” as an example of the best in folk-influenced pop music. On the other end of the spectrum is Jay-Z’s incredibly hooky, listenable 13th album, which I think, over time, even its harshest critics will realize represents a game change for mainstream hip hop, mostly because it is an incredibly joyous, adult album. Both albums feature some incredibly strong, moving writing.

In Neko’s “The Pharoahs,” we’re offered a complex, layered portrait of disillusion in romance: “You left me lying there awake/but you never came to bed/You kept me wanting, wanting, wanting like the wanting in the movies and the hymns/I want the Pharoahs, but there’s only men.” Neko’s choice of religious imagery is telling, highlighting, among other things, the unreasonable expectations our culture has of marriage and romance in general. And, not for nothing, it’s hard not to hear political disappointment as well. When our political leaders, handed a majority in Congress unprecedented in my lifetime, can’t conduct the most basic business of governance, Neko’s sentiment seems all too fitting.

Jay-Z’s album is filled with so many moments of transcendence above the normal tropes of hip hop, notable for the fact that he reworks tired concepts, like that of an emcee bragging about how ahead of all the other emcees he is, and using it to offer up a new version of power. In the second verse of “Off That,” it has its greatest moment, where Jay-Z redefines racism itself as something not only unjust but also uncool and indicative of immaturity: “This ain’t black vs. white, we off that/Please tell Bill O’Reilly to fall back/Tell Rush Limbaugh to get off my balls/It’s 2010 not 1864.” There’s hope that rises out of that, as Jay-Z celebrates his racially diverse friendships, his social mobility, and the simple fact that we finally elected a black man to the presidency.

In a year of disillusion for many of us, of economic hardship, war, and disappointment, there is still music, and there has been some amazing, lovely songcraft this year. The surprising and outstanding project by the Black Keys, resulting in the “Blakroc” album, the luscious clutter of Grizzly Bear, the pointed pop of Tegan and Sara, the exuberant post-rock of Kuan, the geek revival of progressive rock on the Decemberists’ “The Hazards Of Love” all indicate that as the first decade of the 21st century draws to a close, pop music in all its forms isn’t in decline. It’s becoming more diverse, more cross-cultural, and, as the for-profit music industry struggles to justify its existence, more based in a sheer love of music itself.

All Is Not Lost: Favorite Music of 2009

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