Flak Magazine: They Don't Love You Like We Do, Tracks 1-5, 02.03.04

Best Alternate Soundtrack to the Moment Mickey Loses Control in Fantasia's "Apprentice" Scene. Brooklyn's Department of Eagles — whose debut 7" under the name Whitey on the Moon UK was singled out for praise last year — has evolved considerably from its quirky sample-heavy origins. The songs are still pastiches of found sounds, but the duo of Iron Chrysalis and Butterfly Emerging has shifted its focus to crafting songs, not just musical collages.

The guitar that helps get things started would sound right at home in Radiohead's "Paranoid Android," while the murky beats that accompany it belong more to Autechre and Aphex Twin. But DoE doesn't just combine a slew of sounds that worked for other bands. "The Horse You Ride" jumps back and forth from electronic beats to live drums, from four-on-the-floor to drumrolls to breakbeat, from drum-and-bass-guitar-heavy "Paint It Black"-style rock to a final 68 seconds of beauteous organized chaos that could easily be the centerpiece of an alternate Fantasia soundtrack.

Samples of all loudness, duration and musicality swirl and dance like animated instruments capering about some imaginary room. They gain momentum, soaring higher and higher, like pieces of paper flung into an updraft, until they vanish from sight with a spoken, "Hi." (— Eric Wittmershaus)

2. "Riding on the Subway" | Jesse Malin | The Fine Art of Self Destruction | Artemis | 4:10

Best Song About Mass Transit. Manhattan's true bloodline is its subway system, which not only remains a cost-effective commuting option but a great way to get a feel for the city and its residents. Native New Yorker Jesse Malin must know this about as well as anyone, and here he captures the atmosphere associated with traveling underground (and sometimes above ground) by rail, and he does it both sonically and literally.

Malin begins his journey — singing over an initial rhythm of bongos and a slippery upright bass, not unlike something heard in a subway station on any given day — by describing the "Harlem mammas" who chuckle at his appearance and the tough-guy "pizza boys" who give him hard looks.

Then the other instruments kick in, with Malin's rapidly strummed acoustic guitar leading the way. At this point, the train has effectively been launched from its station, taking the 9-to-5ers along to experience the "spray paint gospel on the beat," among other sights and sounds. The scenery significantly changes one day when Malin spots someone he'd like to meet, but his shyness prevents him from saying anything before they go their separate ways. As a result, taking the subway is never quite the same, as future trips are made with the hope that their paths will cross again. It's a long shot, for sure, but subway riders like Malin know that just about anything can happen underground. (— Chris M. Junior)

3. "Forest Whitaker" | Brother Ali | Shadows on the Sun | Rhymesayers | 3:30

Best Albino Rapper. Hip-hop, the most recent musical revolution to be co-opted by hacks, can still offer surprises, mainly from its fringe performers. Brother Ali's Shadows on the Sun has the humor and intelligence of early rap, and the immediacy of a live performance (his forte). The Wisconsin native is keenly observant and loose at the mic, and while "Dorian" — about his confrontation with an abusive neighbor — is the album's most gripping track, "Forest Whitaker" — a song about how Ali lives with being an albino — is wry and the melody is refreshingly upbeat. It sticks in your head. The lyrics are typically direct:

I got red eyes and one of em's lazy/ And they both squint when the sun shines so wild and crazy/ I'm an albino, man, and I know I'm pink and pale/ And I'm hairy as hell everywhere but fingernails/ You might think I'm depressed as can be/ But when I look in the mirror I see sexy-ass me.

Produced with a great church organ flourish, "Forest Whitaker" is catchy enough to warrant a couple extra verses. Still, this ranks as the best self-deprecating rap song since Fatlip's 2000 ode to his declining fortunes, "What's Up, Fatlip?" (— Christopher Hickman)

4. "Olio" | The Rapture | Echoes | DFA/Strummer/ Universal | 5:20

Best Evidence for the Compatibility of Tears and Dance Moves since Joy Division. We've heard comparisons all year with Gang of Four, PiL and the Cure. We get a mini-backlash in response to early hype and anticipation (largely due to the 2002 release of "House of Jealous Lovers"). Production team DFA are justifiably lauded and then, in some quarters, doubted. And yet, after the noise and the dust settles, we're left with a very good record indeed, even if genre labels such as "punk funk" and "dance/disco punk" are ultimately silly. And it was brave of the Rapture to make this spare, unsettling song the album opener. Robert Smith may be a reference point for singer Luke Jenner — not only can you trace these particular torturous vocal mannerisms all the way back to the Cure's Faith, but I'd posit "Other Voices" as the specific song he heard in his head prior to recording — but Bob never wailed his despair over such plain old-school house beats before. The contrast between the primitive 808 drum programming, a wriggling synthesizer worm, an icicle drip of a piano motif and Jenner's pitch-challenged howls is unnerving, like you're curled freezing and alone in some echoing warehouse corner while the beats pound on all sides, relentless, indifferent. (— David Antrobus)

5. "Daughter in the House of Fools" | Enon | Hocus Pocus | Touch and Go | 2:52

Catchiest Vindication of Matilda Wormwood. Confusion is key in indie eclecticists Enon's excellent electro-dancehall excursion. Toko Yasuda coos and yearns, fretting like Alice after stepping through the looking glass (or at least like the girl in that Tom Petty video where he sports the fly top hat).

And why shouldn't she be disoriented, clinging for comfort to the same off-rhyme for almost the entire duration? The backing track shifts like the sands roughly every 15 seconds. These changes aren't exactly subtle, but they're sneaky. The Enon crew hews faithfully to dance music's First Commandment, "Thou shalt not stop the beat"; every measure features, or at least suggests, the same off-kilter throb. The differences appear in how the accents come, and what happens in the queasy push-pull in between.

So you wanted high-hats, but what you get sounds more like cricket chirps. The snare snaps in cruelly from time to time, signaling that something's about to happen. A couple rusty hinges rear their heads mischievously then evaporate without a fuss. Eastern-sounding synth figures slink into the gaps. Rather officiously (and more than a little flatulently), a backward drum loop announces its arrival, 'cause the party's almost over. The listener gets to move on or (more likely) start over again, but as the tune fades out, the daughter is still stuck in the house of fools, pleading now, "Whatever is a girl to do?" (— Wayne Lewis)

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