My Ten Favorite Albums of the Decade: 2010-2019

This will probably be the last decade I'll be able to make this list. The music business, like most of the entertainment industry, has become fragmented and plays to our increasingly short attention spans. I listened to albums all the way through with far less frequency than I did in the aughts (here's that list, if you're curious), which was already a downturn from the highs of the Nineties.

Thus, I didn't spend a ton of time agonizing over this list. The usual caveats apply: These are my favorite albums, the ones I spent the most time with on repeat. I'm not claiming them to be the "best." Musical taste is incredibly subjective; I like rock n' roll and pop music (preferably with a female vocalist). There is exceptional music being made in other genres; it's just generally not my thing.

Without further ado, here are the Honorable Mentions I couldn't quite squeeze onto my Top 10: Courtney Barnett: Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit (2015), Belly: Dove (2018), Jimmy Eat World: Integrity Blues (2016), Manchester Orchestra: A Black Mile to the Surface, The Killers: Battle Born (2012), The Struts: Young & Dangerous (2018), Taylor Swift: Speak Now (2010) and 1989 (2014), Chvrches: Love is Dead (2018), Billie Eilish: When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? (2019)

10. Sleigh Bells: Treats (2010)
This band felt like a revelation at the start of the decade, combining shredding guitar licks with electronica and Alexis Krauss' alternately breathy and snarling vocals. The front half of the album is chock full o' bangers ("Tell 'em," "Riot Rythym," and "Infinity Guitars") that culminates with one of those songs I still get excited by when I hear its opening chords, despite its ubiquitous presence: "Rill Rill." The back half doesn't hold up as well (nor did the band's trajectory), but the highs are dizzying.

9. Jenny Lewis: The Voyager (2014) and On the Line (2019)
Ok, I cheated here. I'll refund your subscription fee upon request. But these albums are perfect compliments; I couldn't imagine listing one without mentioning the other. Highlights from the first include "She's Not Me," "Just One of the Guys," and the sublime closing title track. Gun to head, I'd say the latter album is better, because "On the Line" is probably the best song on either album, and "Heads Gonna Roll" is pretty great, too. However, it's my blog, and I don't have to choose, so there.

8. Kesha: Rainbow (2017)
She dropped the silly dollar sign, stored up all the professional and personal pain she endured, and unleashed it on the world. This delightfully profane record is the most sonically varied on my list, as it vacillates from elements of hard rock ("Let 'em Talk") to Aretha Franklin-esque empowerment ("Woman") to the burn-it-all-down high note peak on the anthem "Praying." Oh, then she tosses in a country ballad duet with Dolly Freaking Parton and an adorable little acoustic guitar ballad about taking Godzilla to the mall. If you dismissed her as a boozy, disposable pop star at the start of the decade, well she'd probably invite you to "Suck. My. Dick" (actual line from "Let 'em Talk").

7. White Reaper: You Deserve Love (2019)
The first of a few albums on this list to remind me that although it may be on life support, rock is not dead. White Reaper has stated their intention to Make Guitar Great Again, and this qualifies as a helluva shot across the bow. At only half an hour long, You Deserve Love bangs in with the made-for-cruising opener "Headwind" and climaxes with "1F," an absolutely sublime way to spend three minutes and my pick for pop/rock song of the decade. Further on down the album is another gem receiving alt-rock radio attention, "You Might Be Right." The synth on many of the tracks borrows heavily from the 80s, but these guys feel like the future of rock.

6. Taylor Swift: Lover (2019)


It was Taylor's decade; the rest of us were just sorta there. Her 20s gave us four great albums (and one...uh...not-so-great one), and she closed it out with this delightful batch of tunes (which I've already written about more extensively). Twenty-something Taylor is now dead; long live thirty-something Taylor. May she remain forever in her feelings.

5. The Maine: You are O.K. (2019)


The Maine brought back what I missed most about rock music from the aughts: Emo angst! Although they're a much more hopeful outfit than, say, My Chemical Romance, this record would've fit right into 2006. It's also thematic, with the pop brilliance of the opener "Slip the Noose" and its lovely torment ("I was on the verge of breaking down/'til you came around/and not a second too late"). That line returns with the epic closer, "Flowers on the Grave" that defies you not to scream along with the refrain. In between there are angst-ridden anthems like "Numb Without You" and "Heaven, We're Already Here." This album scratched an itch I didn't know I had; I must've listened to it 15 times straight through.

4.  Katy Perry: Teenage Dream (2010)
It's not an overstatement to call this record the soundtrack of the early 2010s. It produced five number one singles; one featured Snoop Dogg, for Christ's sake! You couldn't go anywhere without hearing one of them, which probably annoyed lots of folks. Not I! There was a second there when Perry looked as if she'd make a play for the Queen of the Pop Stars, surpassing Taylor, Beyonce, et al. That...didn't happen. But she rode a giant gold lion at the Super Bowl, so she's doing fine! My favorite track isn't one of the #1s, by the way. It's "The One That Got Away," which only got to #3. You could say it was the one that...got away.

3. Weezer: Everything Will Be Alright in the End (2014)
Weezer is one of my favorite bands. Even if they hadn't made a record past 2005's Make Believe (where things first started to go noticeably downhill), that would still be true. I was content to keep buying their albums that had one or two good songs on them and filing their cds away on a shelf. I didn't even bother with 2010's Death to False Metal, as it was abundantly clear that they were playing out the string of some arduous record contract.

And then...this magnificent beast of a record appeared.

I'd argue it's either their third or fourth-best album (depending on how you feel about the Green Album, which I had on my 2000-2010 top-ten list). It's easily their most thematically ambitious. It felt like Rivers Cuomo had been waiting for years to write "Foolish Father," which brilliantly closes the album's main section (before the three-song epilogue). "Da Vinci" is a vintage Weezer tune that deserved a lot more radio love than it got (which was basically zero, as far as I can tell). "Ain't Got Nobody" fits right in with the catalogue of brilliant openers, and "The British are Coming" and "Cleopatra" encapsulate Rivers' loopy, quirky songwriting talents.

This album announced Weezer are here to stay, freeing them up to do things that made them rock celebrities to a whole new generation, like covering Toto's "Africa." They're back, and the world's a better place for it.

2. The Struts: Everybody Wants (2016)

Remember what was so fun about rock n' roll? The Struts and lead singer Luke Spiller sure as hell do. This unabashed throwback to swinging dick stardom would fit in any era. Spiller is what you get if you combined Bowie's glamorous androgyny, Jagger's self-assured libido, and Mercury's soaring vocal power. Think that's an exaggeration? That's exactly the point. The Struts come right at you with banger after banger and dare you not to get up and dance.

The album oozes attitude from the moment Spiller rolls his r's on "Roll Up" and then transitions into the decade's best anthem, "Could Have Been Me." That's followed by perhaps the record's biggest hit, "Kiss This," and then Spiller practically BEGS you to respond with "Oh yeeaaah" to the chorus of "Put Your Money on Me." Four songs, four home runs.

Spiller can do sensitive boyfriend type too, as he exhibits on "Mary Go Round" and the yearning "Only a Call Away." But just when you start thinking he's safe, the album's midpoint is an ode to partner swapping, aptly named "The Ol' Switcheroo." No subject matter is taboo to The Struts, as long as they can make it sound fun as hell. This was the record I recommended to the most people this year. Not enough took me up on it, but that's o.k.; The Struts won't rest until the world is ready to rock again.

1. Taylor Swift: Red (2012)

Even though 2014's 1989 was billed as her much-ballyhooed departure from country and transition to pop, it really happened on Red. The album's highlights, like "22" and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" aren't country in the slightest. "I Knew You Were Trouble" has a dubstep drop. Red is the album where she figured out that she was talented enough to be whatever kind of artist she wanted to be, and she didn't have to stay in the country music industry's suffocating box.

This was the album I listened to the most times this decade, by the artist that most defined it. It also features the song of the decade...but that's a story for another blog.

Taylor's Back, and I'm a "Lover" of This New Set of Tunes

I'll be honest: I was kinda concerned for our girl after Reputation. Taylor Swift is the preeminent songwriter of her generation, precisely because she frames her personal experiences in ways the rest of us can relate to, even as she became one of the most recognizable people on Earth.

However, most of us...don't have a long-running feud with a notorious rapper and his uber-famous wife? Taylor's urge to present herself as some sort of battle-tested bad bitch imbued everything about Reputation. That album's lasting imagery was the giant snake she featured onstage during her world tour. It just all felt so artificial. Where was the Taylor who giggled with her "squad," who shook it off, who alternately celebrated/lamented her romantic relationships?

That Taylor returns on Lover, her best album since she went all pop, all the time. I guess she's been dating this handsome British actor for the past three years. He seems incredibly milquetoast, but if he makes her happy and keeps her producing golden pop goodness, good on ya, mate.

(Listens to earpiece)...I'm being told "good on ya, mate" is an Australian expression, not an English one. The important thing is that I am far too stupid and culturally insensitive to worry about such distinctions. 

Lover finds Taylor in a mostly upbeat mood; the album's first track "I Forgot That You Existed" is a lilting, vintage kiss-off to an ex. From that finger-snapping intro, the soon-to-be hits come rapid fire and don't stop until a bit of a lull on the back third of the album. If I had to wager, I'd bet on the record's second track, "Cruel Summer," becoming the most successful radio hit of the bunch. It's got the biggest chorus, and it's made for driving around with the windows down and warbling along.

Unlike Reputation, which felt stuffed with filler from the outset, there's not one skippable song on Lover until the album's 13th track (out of 18!), "False God." Before that misfire, you get a smorgasbord of instantly catchy tunes, from the crazy-in-love delight of "Paper Rings" to the wistful lament of "Cornelia Street." She dredges up old high school metaphors for "Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince" with its cleverly rousing chorus punctuated by the traditional pep rally chant: "GO! FIGHT! WIN!"


Feminism has never been Taylor's strong suit, and some of the lyrics on "The Man," where she (rightfully) points out gender double standards are a bit clumsy and on-the-nose ("They'd say I played the field before I found someone to commit to/and that would be o.k. for me to do"). However, calling out one of America's most famous and respected actors for being a legendary Lothario makes me chuckle every time: "And they would toast to me/oh, let the players play/I'd be just like Leo in Saint-Tropez."

The title track is a top-ten Taylor tune, with her playfully delicate crooning of a term ("looooooverrrrrr") that usually makes my skin crawl. It's one of several songs seemingly inspired by Tay-Tay's currently contented relationship status, along with the cheeky "London Boy," in which she boasts about hanging "in the pub, watching rugby with his friends." I find this claim dubious, but at least it's slightly more authentic than suggesting she frequents "a dive bar on the East side" on Reputation's biggest hit, "Delicate."

Of course, Taylor does pathos as well as sunny romanticism, as she reminds us on "Soon You'll Get Better." The Dixie Chicks join her for this heart-wrenching ballad about her mother's bout with cancer. I'm not sure it's her saddest tune (that title still goes to "Ronan," about a four-year-old boy who died of neuroblastoma), but if you can listen to a daughter's voice catch when she whispers "You'll get better soon...'cuz you have to" as she reckons with the possibility of losing her mother without getting a lump in your throat, then you're probably a sociopath.

If the album ended after that 12th track, there would be little to nitpick. The last third of the album contains the two upbeat pop songs already released as singles, "Me!" and "You Need to Calm Down." Both are perfectly fine, but I'll never accept that "Hey, kids! Spelling is fun!" was a good idea in any way, shape, or form. "Afterglow," "It's Nice to Have a Friend," and "Daylight" have all grown on me, but they do make for a bit of a snoozy end to the album.

Lover marks the end of Taylor's third decade on this increasingly crazy planet. It doesn't represent a growth in maturity, per se, because she's been a preternaturally gifted songwriter since she was in middle school. But it does seem that she's reached a point where she's truly content with who she is. Lover is a confident work by an artist who's decided to be the best version of herself, "reputation" be damned.

She's made up her mind to just be "Me!", and we should all be thankful for that.

Lover: A-
Reputation: C-
1989: B
Red: A
Speak Now: A-
Fearless: B+
Taylor Swift: Idk. I don't like country, never listened to it

Taylor Strays From Her "Reputation": Bland, Listless Record Ensues

 
It's insufferable to quote one's self, but watch me as I do it anyway. After my first listen of Taylor Swift's newest album Reputation I went back and re-read my review of 1989, where I worried that she "sold off a bit of her Taylor-ness." I wrote that some of the tracks suffered from a "touch of anonymity" and hoped that "Swift hasn't settled for being Queen of the Pop Princesses."

Dammit so much.

Most of Reputation can be described as "aggressively mediocre." It's full of synth beats, drum loops, and auto-tune. Even the finger snaps are electronic precision. Swift left banjos behind after Red; now she's chosen to forgo actual musical instruments altogether.

As the album's title suggests, Swift seems preoccupied with how she's perceived. On the otherwise unmemorable "Delicate," she sings, "My reputation's never been worse/so you must like me for me." I want to give her a hug like Robin Williams did to Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting and assure her that we DO like her for her. She's one of her generation's greatest songwriters. She doesn't need to mold herself into something she's not.

Take, for instance, the album's second track, "End Game." It features rappers Future and Ed Sheeran. What's that? You didn't know Ed Sheeran was a rapper? Well, he gets his pasty ginger flow on, and it goes about how you'd expect. The song might as well be called "Generic 2017 Hip-Hop Chart-Topper." That's followed by the similarly awful "I Did Something Bad," and sometimes, folks, the jokes just write themselves, amiright?

Most of the songs aren't bad, but they're just sort of...there. I listened to the record three times through before sitting down to write this, and I still can't tell you anything about "So It Goes," "Don't Blame Me," "King of My Heart," or "Dancing With Our Hands Tied."  There are 15 songs on the album, and I'd characterize at least 1/3 as unequivocal filler.

Then there are a few tunes that qualify as "Fine, I guess?" I'd put "Call it What You Want," "Gorgeous," and "Dress" in this category. They'd all be among the worst songs on Taylor's better albums, but here they stand out from the colorless flotsam that makes up most of Reputation.

Thankfully, there are some highlights. The "Hard Knock Life" homage "This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things" makes for a certified banger. In addition to a Great Gatsby shout-out, it features a cackling Taylor breaking up in the midst of a faux apology that she "can't even say with a straight face." The Jack Antonoff influence is strong on what is probably the album's best song, "Getaway Car." It sounds like a really good Bleachers song sung by Swift, which is sort of ideal.

I've even leaned into "Look What You Made Me Do," even though I was horrified by it when it was released. It's a total disaster of a song, but at least it's a fun, campy disaster with a chorus that's delightful to chant when you've just done something naughty. And it's definitely on-brand Taylor- petty and directed at her haters.

You know what's off-brand and artificial? All the boozy references on Reputation. Does anyone really believe Swift enjoys "whiskey on ice," as she claims on "Gorgeous"? Or that she swills "beer out of plastic cups" ("King of My Heart") and frequents a "dive bar on the East Side" ("Delicate")? Plus, she drops her first recorded curse word, accusing some ex of "talking shit." I have to be careful about playing Taylor Frigging Swift in the car with my kids now? That's some fracking bullspit.

I dunno. Maybe this is who she is now. Perhaps it's an honest representation. But it sure feels like she's straining to prove that the old Taylor, as she claims on "LWYMMD," is dead.

Not until the album's final track does the wistful, winsome Swift appear with a spare piano ballad about helping a friend clean up empty bottles on "New Year's Day." It would be a pretty unremarkable tune on the rest of her catalogue, but here it stands out. It's like the old Taylor broke through for one song at the end, forcing her way through the over-produced electronic sheen of the rest of the album.

Taylor, we know you're still in there. If you can hear us, harken to the words of a legendary songwriter:

Come back...be here.

Nolanometer Final Grade: C-

1989: B
Red: A
Speak Now: A-
Fearless: B+
Taylor Swift: IDK. I don't like country, never listened to it.

Merchants of Death (Cigarettes, not Guns)

When I was growing up, you could smoke on airplanes.

How could it have possibly been permissible to allow passengers to exhale carcinogens inside an enclosed metal tube at 30,000 feet? Well, there were smoking and non-smoking sections. Duh.

My favorite childhood restaurant was El Charro in Lafayette, California: an affluent, mostly liberal suburb of the Bay Area. Whenever we'd go to dinner, I'd pull the levers of a machine in the lobby that looked like this:

When I attended high school in the '90s, there was controversy about a group of students known as the "backlotters." These were the misfits who met in an unoccupied lot behind the gym to smoke cigarettes. Smoking on campus was technically against the rules, but that location had tradition of lax enforcement. There was pretty significant support for the backlotters as oppressed victims in a civil rights struggle.

For almost the entirety of American history, cigarettes were inextricably woven into the fabric of this country's culture and economy. Since 1612, when the Jamestown colonists dropped the first tobacco seeds into the ground, firearms have been ever-present.

Wait, what? Did I just type "firearms" there? I meant cigarettes. This blog is about cigarettes.

Anyway, there were always people along the way decrying cigarettes as being, you know, a terrible pox on public health. "But who cares if I do it to myself?" the nicotine lovers bleated. Opponents pointed out that it wasn't just a matter of keeping it to oneself, since secondhand smoke led to roughly 11,000 homicide deaths by firearm each year.

Whoops! That makes no sense. Secondhand smoke isn't a gun! And that analogy doesn't even match up, because then people who kill themselves by smoking would be like the 21,000 who commit suicide by firearm every year. You can't kill yourself by smoking! Not instantly, anyway. It takes a while.

Also, smoking looks cool! You're gonna tell Americans they can't do something that looks this badass?

Wrong pic! Sorry about that. Got it mixed up with the other Heathers photo above.

The point is, Americans loved their cigarettes. Would never give up their cigarettes. Would die before they let the government take their guns cigarettes.

Then, about three decades ago, the (smoke-filled) winds of change began to blow. Smoking on airplanes was prohibited in 1990. Many states, including California, banned smoking in bars and restaurants. My high school students occasionally smell like weed; they almost never reek of cigarette smoke. I smelled it on one girl this year and asked her about it. She replied with a curled lip and an eye roll: "Ugh, I know. It's disgusting. My stepdad smokes. It's so gross."

What had formally been a badge of high school cool is now so gross.

In other words, this:

Has become this:

It's not like cigarettes are illegal. You can still buy them pretty much anywhere. So what happened? Basically, we, as a society, decided that guns were a public health nuisance, and we'd all be better off if people smoked a lot less of them. Dammit. I did it again. CIGARETTES. Not guns.

The most important shift was actually telling the truth about what cigarettes do. For years, tobacco companies claimed that not only were cigarettes not bad for you, but that they were actually healthy. I mean, look at this shit:

 You know what's a good way to lose weight? Acquire lung cancer!

 

 Which brand of cigs does YOUR dentist recommend?

 

Now, of course, this is the message we associate with cigarettes:

Even people who smoke admit it's no good for them. They just like smoking. They have fewer places to do so, it costs more, and they've largely become social pariahs in many areas. They know it's a vice; many of them try to quit, but ultimately it's their right to smoke as Americans. But none of them say stuff like, "The more cigarettes around, the safer everyone is." 

Much credit tor this generational change goes to good ol' fashioned American lawsuits. Consumers and former consumers sued the pants off Big Tobacco so badly that the companies had to pay for anti-smoking commercials themselves. The brand became so tarnished that America's largest tobacco manufacturer (Philip Morris) changed its name to distance itself from its own product.

Wouldn't it be crazy if that happened in some other industry? Just to pick one TOTALLY at random, what if, for example, after every mass shooting, all the victims and their families got together and sued Sig Sauer/Bushmaster/Intratec, etc? That can't work, though. Because cigarettes and guns are completely different.

You know how I know that's true?

Because if this adorable little girl were holding a lit cigarette, you'd be shocked and appalled. Because cigarettes are not toys. Because they're deadly. Because you shouldn't use them around kids, and you sure as hell shouldn't teach your kids that smoking is cool or for God's sake show them how to smoke as children.

At least today you wouldn't. When I was growing up, people smoked on airplanes, and that was totally normal. Things change.

Some things do.

Taylor Swift: Destroyer of Worlds

Like many of my generation, I have a drawer full of concert ticket stubs. Pearl Jam, R.E.M., Radiohead, U2, Green Day, Smashing Pumpkins, No Doubt. You'll probably notice a theme. Mostly, my previous show-going experiences have been limited to alt-rock performers. I'm used to a lead singer who stands in one place, staring at his shoes, while the guitarists occasionally criss-cross each other on stage while bouncing around. Sometimes the house lights flash in time with the music. Maybe a couple flames here or there.

Thus, walking into Levi's stadium with my wife last Friday night to behold the reigning queen of the music scene, I really had no idea what to expect. I just knew that 50,000 people all paid over $100 a ticket (I'm sure there were tickets sold in the thousand-dollar range), so the pressure was on Taylor Swift to deliver. For the most part, she did not disappoint.

First, a word about Levi's. My sister and I are lifelong 49ers fans:

It's pretty ironic that my first visit to their new home (and our brick) was not to watch my team; on the other hand, I have a lot more love for Tay-Tay these days than Niners owner Jed York, who could be the topic of a much meaner blog entry. The stadium is completely generic. No character at all. Even the font on the concession stands is boring. It's a nightmare to get into and out of. Draught beer costs $11, and every swallow is slightly bitter because it helps to line Jed's pockets. But hey, it's nice and clean! For now.

We got to our seats and found translucent rubber bracelets taped to the back of them, like t-shirts at a Warriors' playoff game. We also encountered a precocious, blonde-braided nine-year-old in the row in front of us named Bailey. Bailey and her family had driven down from Williams, about three hours to the north. She was impressed that I had been to France, but one-upped me by having once traveled to Utah.

Bailey represents a fraction of the broad tapestry that is T-Swift fandom these days. In the row in front of her were a group of four 20-somethings chugging Coors Light and hugging often. On either side of us were middle-aged mothers with tween girls. Behind us were some mixed pairs in their 30s. Sure, the demo still skews about 80% female (which has its advantages: ZERO line for the men's restroom), but Swifties are legion in age and appearance.

Just as Bailey began to grow impatient (her bedtime was 9:00, and Swift's set didn't kick off until 8:45), the sounds of a subway station became audible, and soon Taylor emerged through the stage floor to the synth keys of "Welcome to New York," 1989's opening track, sporting her signature shades:

All those glowing white lights visible in the crowd are the bracelets, which lit up and pulsed with the beat. It's hard to overstate how cool this was. The wristbands changed color and varied not only by section but by seat, which delighted Bailey, who had scavenged an extra and had one on each wrist:

 The effect was much like one of those card tricks that the crowd does at a football game halftime show, but for two straight hours. I'm old enough to remember when people still held up lighters, but this was way more fun (and certainly much better than holding up cell phones). On the subject of lighters, this was also the first concert I've ever been to where I never caught even a whiff of weed. We did see a particularly drunk lady get ejected; accounting for how long the concession lines were pre-show, that was actually a pretty impressive feat.

Taylor proceeded to run through a couple of the more upbeat 1989 tracks before mixing in a blistering version of "I Knew You Were Trouble," replete with smoke blasts on the chorus hooks:

There were frequent breaks between songs so she could change costumes, which is something else I'm unfamiliar with. Eddie Vedder shedding his flannel is about the closest comp. During these times, the video screens would display testimonials from Taylor's cadre of BFF's, such as Selena Gomez, Haim, Cara Delevingne, her cats, and Abigail Anderson, of "red-headed Abigail" fame on Swift's early hit, "Fifteen."

Speaking of older tunes, they were noticeably lacking. She played nearly every song off 1989, but perhaps only six or seven others. Even those were given a 1989 sound. There was nary a banjo to be heard on "Love Story," which was coated with an electronic, glossy sheen. For "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," Taylor channeled her inner Joan Jett, snarling her way through the tune while shredding on electric guitar:

Personally, I was a tad bummed by the set list. I like 1989, but it's not my favorite Taylor album. As with any touring act, you know going in that the focus will mainly be on the newest album, but I gladly would've traded special guest Fifth Harmony's performance of "Worth It" for an old-fashioned rendition of "You Belong With Me." I loves me some Taylor ballads, and the only one she really did was the album's closer, "Clean."

There were also times when the energy in the building flagged a bit. Taylor fancies herself a storyteller a la Bruce Springsteen, and there were moments during her girl power motivationals that had some of us hoping she'd get on with it and play a song already. In those instances, she creeps right up to being a caricature of herself, doling out generic platitudes about self esteem and not worrying about other people's opinions of you. If only there were a song in her oeuvre that covers all that in an insanely catchy, upbeat fashion...

Near the end of the show, a worn-out Bailey turned back to me and asked how much longer I thought this was gonna go. I explained how encores work and that we hadn't even heard 1989's signature tune yet. Not placated, she went over to curl up in her mom's lap, head against her chest. As the strains of "Out of the Woods" faded out and the place went dark briefly, I wondered if she would be able overcome her weariness and...
wait for it
wait for it
wait for it

"Shake it Off"?

I needn't have worried.

1989- Taylor Swift Goes All In With All Pop, All the Time

Two salient, if seemingly paradoxical points:

1. I adore Taylor Swift.
2. I despise contemporary country music.

As to the first point, I realize that's it's not...ahem..."normal" for a 38-year-old husband and father to have so much love for the musical stylings of a 24-year-old whose core demographic is teen girls. What can I say?  Shame and I parted ways long ago.  Her music fills me with joy.  It makes about as much sense to fight that as it does to resist playing with a newborn puppy or to refuse to celebrate a walk-off home run.

Of course, the second point would seem to contradict the first.  Swift has long been classified a country music star, with the Nashville-launched career to back it up.  But the music industry's worst-kept secret is that her music has gotten steadily more poppy since her unremarkable debut album.  Think of the songs that rocketed her into the stratosphere: "Love Story," "You Belong With Me," "Back to December," etc. Yeah, there's a banjo here or there, but those are pop/rock tunes.

How do I measure that?  Well, Carrie Underwood, Blake Shelton, Kenny Chesney, et al. make me nauseous.  I can't stand that nasal twang, the discordant jangle, or the lyrics that appeal to the absolute lowest American common denominator ("trucks," "boots," "jeans," "chicks," "beer," etc.).  

Starting with Fearless and continuing with Speak Now, Swift gradually disassociated herself from the mainstream country rabble, even as she showed up to accept her CMA awards.  Still, her country roots crept in around the edges or even came to the fore on occasional tunes such as "Mean."  When done well, country music showcases the struggle and soul of the American heartland.  Swift isn't Johnny Cash, but there is an authenticity to her music that makes her unique amongst her pop starlet peers.  Say what you want about her, but she writes her own songs, and they're deeply personal.  In fact, that's usually the most frequent criticism of her catalog: "Another song about an ex?"  

She left almost any semblance of traditional country sound behind in her last album, Red.  Its three biggest hits ("We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," "22," and "I Knew You Were Trouble") aren't country in the slightest.  Thus, it made sense when she announced that 1989 would be her first completely pop album.

Is it ever.  1989 positively shimmers.  There's not a single clunker contained within the album's 13 glossy tracks.  It showcases the best production values money can buy.  I'm not being hyperbolic when I write that literally every track is a potential hit single, although my money's on the insanely catchy "All You Had to Do Was Stay" to be the album's signature single, after the already colossal "Shake it Off."  Other strong contenders are the sunny "How You Get the Girl" and the cheeky "Blank Space," where Swift asserts "I could make the bad guys good for a weekend."  

Swift's critics will be surprised at the lack of breakup drama on 1989.  She's apparently spent the last year-and-a-half enjoying the Big Apple and staying out of the tabloids by completely neglecting a love life.  Indeed, she wallows knowingly in her public perception.  On "Shake it Off" she acknowledges the haters: "I go on too many dates/But I can't make 'em stay/That's what people say."  She's even more playful on "Blank Space" when she coos, "Got a long list of ex-lovers/They'll tell you I'm insane/Cause you know I love the players/And you love the game."


Got a long list of ex-lovers
They'll tell you I'm insane
Cause you know I love the players
And you love The departure from banjos and fiddles to the electronic sound of the album has its benefits.  The vocal effects effectively hide that Swift isn't a world-class singer (that's perhaps putting it mildly) while utilizing her bouncy lilt on sweetly repetitive tracks like "Out of the Woods"  Most thankfully of all, 1989 doesn't fall prey to the dubstep trend.  I was worried after the success of dubstep-lite "I Knew You Were Trouble" that this new album would be full of "waiting for the drop," like so much of current Top-40 radio airplay.  The fact that it doesn't succumb to the latest fad means it has a much better chance at timelessness.

However, there's a trade off to be made for this much sweet pop goodness.  Swift has sold off a bit of her Taylor-ness to make a record this clean and pretty.  For instance, my favorite tune on Red is the ballad "All Too Well."  It's set to a lone piano and a soft guitar and features the devastating couplet "You call me up again just to break me like a promise/So casually cruel in the name of being honest."  There's real pain in Swift's tortured wail.

There's simply nothing like that on 1989.  The closest Swift comes is on "I Wish You Would" when she sings, "You always knew how to push my buttons/You give me everything and nothing."  She should sound angry, but the smoothly pulsing synth robs the song of any real torment.

Additionally, there's a touch of anonymity to some of the tracks.  For instance, the opener "Welcome to New York" could just as easily be a Katy Perry tune.  Ditto for "Style" and "Bad Blood," which would sound more or less the same if sung by Demi Lovato or Selena Gomez. 

1989 isn't a disappointment, but let's hope that Swift hasn't settled for being Queen of the Pop Princesses.  I've come the realization that I prefer my Swift poppy with just a touch of country soul.

Now I just have to listen to it 50 more times to be sure.  

Nolanometer Final Grade: B

The 10 Most Essential "Teen" Movies: Then and Now

It's hard to be a teenager.  As adults, lots of us forget that.  Careers, financial responsibility, and child-rearing make prom preparations and math quizzes seem insignificant in retrospect.  At the time, however, that's all we knew.  Our hormones were racing, our emotions were swinging wildly, and our skin was a mess.  Worst of all, no one understood.

Thank Hughes, we had auteurs to tell our tales.   Those who came of age when I did were blessed with the defining films of the genre.  Oh, I know.  Before Ferris Bueller there was Danny Zuko and whoever James Dean played in Rebel Without a Cause.  Still, the '80s were the Golden Age of teen film.

Unlike most of my peers, I didn't leave teendom behind when I entered the real world.  I'm still witness to teen drama on a daily basis, in all its hyperbolic glory.  What's fulfilling about teaching English is introducing young people to the great stories that came before their existence.  Half of this entry is dedicated to making sure the younger generation doesn't miss out on all the great teen flicks that came out before they were born.  These films are mandatory viewing for today's youth.  The best news?  None of them are in black and white.  Trust me; that's huge for them.

The other half is for folks my age and above.  Perhaps you haven't watched movies that focus on teen turmoil since you left the demographic yourself, figuring that as you grow up you must put away childish things. Maybe you don't think you can access those same emotions anymore.  But that's what great art does.  It taps into deeply buried feelings and makes them present.  If you haven't seen any of these new classics, rest assured: They'll bring back all that old angst... in the best possible way.  Remember, you're just visiting for a couple hours; adolescents are stuck there for what seems like eternity.

For the distinction between "then" and "now," I'm drawing the line at 1996, the year I turned 20.  It's my blog, and them's my rules.  Oh, and they're presented in no particular order.

Then:

The Breakfast Club (1985)

The grandaddy of the genre.  It wasn't the first, but it's the most oft-referenced.  Wanna start getting a whole bunch of allusions you've been missing?  Watch this ode to cliques, friendship, and Saturday school.  Did we ever figure out if Emilio Estevez breaking the glass with his scream was supposed to be real, a metaphor, or a marijuana-induced hallucination?  Admittedly a pretty lame moment amidst an otherwise perfect blend of anti-authority laughs and tender bonding. 

Best line: "Can you describe the ruckus, sir?"
Signature song: "Don't You Forget About Me" (Simple Minds)
Post viewing question: "So...what have these actors been in recently?  They must be huge stars, right?"

 Sixteen Candles (1984) 

John Hughes' (and Molly Ringwald's, and Anthony Michael Hall's) warmup to The Breakfast Club is less poignant but funnier, at least in my book.  It's also the precursor to another Hughes film: The packed house full of annoying relatives who ignore the film's protagonist is the inspiration for Home Alone.  Special bonus points for non-p.c. humor in the form of Chinese foreign exchange student Long Duk Dong, which mostly comes at the expense of bewildered elderly white people.

Best line: "No more yankie my wankie.  The Donger need food!"
Signature song: "If You Were Here" (Thompson Twins)
Post viewing question: "Wait.  So in the '80s you could show a high school girl showering, with other girls ogling her bare breasts, and it would be rated PG?  What happened?"

Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)

When you think about it, John Hughes' run of these three movies in three years is about as unbelievable as a teenager in 1986 being able to hack into his school computer system and lower his absence count.  Most people would kill to make one movie that good in their lifetimes, and Hughes made one iconic, timeless film per year three years in a row.  Plus a whole bunch of other ones that are pretty good as well (see Honorable Mentions).  People keep telling me there's a God, but John Hughes is dead and Michael Bay's making Transformers 4.  Point, atheists.  Anyway, if the kids who cut my class were half as adventurous or full of life as Ferris is, I wouldn't mind them skipping.  Hell, I'd encourage it. 

Best line: "The question isn't what are we going to do today; it's what aren't we going to do today?"
Signature song: "Twist and Shout" (The Beatles)
Post viewing question: "What happened when the real 'Sausage King of Chicago' showed up to claim his reservation?"

Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982)

Out of all the films on this list, I think this is the one that today's teens would be most surprised by.  A high school girl has sex with an older guy, has an abortion...and that's not even what people remember about this film.  We remember Judge Reinhold telling off the annoying customer, Mr. Hand "sharing" Spicoli's pizza, Damone's dating advice, and of course this.  This times a million.

Best line: "I've been thinking about this, Mr. Hand. If I'm here and you're here, doesn't that make it our time? Certainly, there's nothing wrong with a little feast on our time."
Signature song: "Moving in Stereo" (The Cars, and no, I'm not linking to that scene; this is a family blog). 
Post viewing question: "Why is Spicoli so serious now?  Because he and Madonna got a divorce?"

Say Anything... (1989)

Sure, pretty much everybody recognizes the uber romantic "boom box over the head" gesture.  I prefer the less grandiose moments: When Lloyd teaches Diane to drive a stick shift, when he kicks glass out of her path, the guts he musters to call her in the first place.  It's simply impossible not to root for John Cusack's lovable everyman.  There's also the splendid monologue about not wanting to "buy, sell, or process anything" for a living, an awesome party scene, and some of the best teen songwriting ever. "Joe lies...Joe lies...Joe liiiiiiiiiies...when he cries...when he cries" wails Lloyd's heart-stricken gal pal.  Perhaps the most underrated film of the genre.

Best line: "What I really want to do with my life - what I want to do for a living - is I want to be with your daughter. I'm good at it."
Signature song: "In Your Eyes" (Peter Gabriel) 
Post viewing question: "Why don't more people sing 'The Greatest Love of All' at their graduations?"

Honorable Mentions (Really, you should see all of these, too):

Weird Science (1985)
Better Off Dead (1985)
Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)
Heathers (1988)
Boyz n the Hood (1991)
Dazed and Confused (1993)
Clueless (1995)

Now(ish):

  10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

There's no way this movie should work.  A teen flick based on a Shakespeare play (The Taming of the Shrew) set at a palatial high school where obvious stereotypes abound?  Yet it does work, in spades.  There's nothing terribly original here, but the dialogue is clever, the soundtrack is fun '90s cheese, and most importantly, the film showcases two tremendous young talents in Heath Ledger and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.  Julia Stiles is also fantastic as "The Shrew," and Larry Miller steals every scene he's in as the protective father who's also an obstetrician, terrified that his teen daughters will meet the same fate as so many he's encountered in his career.

Best line: "Kissing? That's what you think happens? I've got news for you. Kissing isn't what keeps me up to my elbows in placenta all day long."
Signature song: "I Can't Keep My Eyes Off of You" (Heath Ledger)
Post viewing question: "Did Robin know he was enlisting the help of The Joker?"

 Easy A (2010)

Like 10 Things, Easy A takes something old (The Scarlet Letter) and makes it pop.  It features a career-making performance by Emma Stone, who is sassy, smart, and sexy as a teen who does the unthinkable: She intentionally tarnishes her own reputation.  What starts as a noble favor to a gay friend looking to stay in the closet turns crushing when she turns into the town harlot (by word of mouth only), even covering for her guidance counselor's (Lisa Kudrow) illicit affair.  The film's greatest power might be that it encouraged an interest in the source material.  Several of my students chose to read it for their American history book report.  The interest was fleeting once they actually read Hawthorne's dry, rigid prose, but still.

Best line: "After we watch 'The Bucket List,' remember to cross 'watch "The Bucket List'" off our bucket list."
Signature song: "Pocketful of Sunshine" (Natasha Bedingfield)
Post viewing question: "So, did Amanda Bynes take her paycheck from this movie and go straight to her meth dealer, or did she stop for In n' Out first?"

Rushmore (1998) 

Wes Anderson's most complete and comprehensible film.  No, shut up.  It's not that other one.  This.  There's no movie version of The Catcher in the Rye, yet something about this film embodies that book's spirit.  As a teacher, I've known kids a lot like Max Fischer.  They're intelligent, mature, creative...and completely bored by academia.  He finds a "mentor" of sorts in Bill Murray's character (who has twin boys he can't tell apart and despises), and the rest is cinema gold.  So many good lines, from the dismissive ("I like your nurse's uniform, guy." "These are O.R. scrubs."  "Oh. Are they?") to the wistful ("I saved Latin.  What did you ever do?") and finally, the boastful ("My top schools where I want to apply to are Oxford and the Sorbonne. My safety's Harvard.").  If Say Anything is the eighties' most underrated film, this surely is the nineties' version.

Best line: "Tell that stupid Mick he just made my list of things to do today."
Signature song: "A Quick One While He's Away" (The Who) 
Post viewing question: "Why don't all Wes Anderson's films make this much sense?   

Mean Girls (2004)

Otherwise known as the moment we collectively realized that Tina Fey is, in fact, completely awesome.  She wrote this razor-sharp satire of teen cliques and the ruthless pack behavior they inspire.  If it were made a decade before, Winona Ryder would've played the lead.  Instead, it went to Lindsay Lohan, who of course is...amazing.  Seriously.  Watching her performance now is awe-inspiring but also sad.  It's a snapshot of what might've been (perhaps still could be?  Robert Downey Jr. was a total mess for most of his 20s and 30s, after all).  Rachel McAdams is wonderful as well, so much so that I often refer to villainous Abigail Williams from The Crucible as Adams' ruthless Regina George. 

Best line: "Gretchen, stop trying to make 'fetch' happen! It's not going to happen!"
Signature Song: "Jingle Bell Rock" (The Mean Girls)
Post viewing question: "Did Lindsey Lohan refer Amanda Bynes to her meth dealer, or does she not like to share?"

The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)

I haven't read the book, and from what I understand there was a touch of dissension amongst those who were fans of the novel because the film took certain liberties (as most adaptions do).  To me, the movie's nearly perfect.  It's not often I claim to be "touched," but this one got me.  It's funny, sweet, relatable, and best of all, set during the time I was in high school- the early 90s (despite the scene where Emma Watson and Ezra Miller perform a joyous dance routine to '80s anthem "Come on, Eileen").  It's the only film on this list that I've seen just once, and I knew right away it was a classic.  I can't wait to watch it on cable, 25 minutes at a time, for the rest of my life, like I have the rest of these films.

Best line: "We accept the love we think we deserve."
Signature Song: "Heroes" (David Bowie)
Post viewing question: "Is there any way we, as a society, can get a restraining order on behalf of Emma Watson that keeps Lindsey Lohan and Amanda Bynes three states away from her at all times?"

Honorable Mentions:

American Pie (1999)
Election (1999)
Bring it On (2000)
Donnie Darko (2001)
Superbad (2007)
Juno (2007)