#No matter how cringe she can be she was a pure and naive woman

[supercool-here]

Marcela knows Armando doesn't love her anymore, she knows there has to be someone else and he is falling for her, she is even wondering wether staying in the relationship is worth it or not. Meanwhile Betty is here speaking her heart, being honest, telling her "I wouldn't know if Don Armando doesn't love you anymore" and "marrying Armando is worth it". Like. This person never intended any harm on anyone.

[khaosophist]

So, liking someone's body is sometimes seen as superficial. Personality can become more central to a relationship than the vessel of that personality.

Was there a moment in my life where this distinction was clear?

That I appreciated the person, more than their body, or just as much, despite of, or because of?

In any case, this reminded me of the time a girl liked me in high school. meet the parents level of like. I only liked her because I wanted to make a friend of mine jealous because I knew he wanted that kind of girl as a partner. I broke it off because It felt wrong. Poor girl. I don't even know if I apologized to her, or even considered her well-being. I didn't even listen to her. I made it all about how my intentions were wrong.

I don't remember what she told me afterwards, why would I? I didn't gain more respect for her, so I didn't even see a point in listening. Did she ask me to try?

Anyways, that relationship, to me, wasn't about her or me. It was in relation to someone else. I made the end of it about my emotions. I didn't listen to what she wanted after learning the truth! I remember kissing her felt like meat on meat. She had a lot of makeup, I tasted it as we kissed, I hated it. It made me feel like the fact she had so much makeup meant something. She was cute, so I didn't understand why she had so much. She was three years younger than me. I felt worse, since I felt like she liked me more because she was naive, than actually interested. I didn't know ANYTHING about her, nor did I try to learn anything about her. For what it's worth. I'm sorry.

So that relationship was neither about their body, nor their personality, but about what someone else could have seen the relationship as. I was jealous of my friend, so I hoped to make him jealous too.

The only relationship where I had no intentions or expectations towards it was with my wife. I had given up on the idea of being in a relationship to be happy. I was cringe as fuck with her. But I didn't care. I sent her a comprehensive image with suggested anime and manga. Emoticons included. I usually hid my power level around normies and women. When I did it was the other that instigated it. I don't think I ever talked about anime to a friend group of mine. I was the blackmetal dude. That's it.

It was a self fulfilling prophecy, by not talking about anime, I didn't attract people that liked the same things as me. Rather there never was a person that both liked anime, and black metal. It was either they liked anime, or they liked music, or were just normies hanging around me.

That being said...I developed a waifu complex on Hatsune Miku. I was convinced that no girl actually liked me, since I didn't like myself anyways, so to me, the waifu was 'the one', the girl pure enough to love me despite my dumb ass. That my wife didn't run screaming after seeing my bedroom with like five Hatsune Miku wall scrolls, one plush,many figures, and one cushion, is a miracle.

I remember going to a con, and meeting this sexy, cute, and sweet girl there. All that mattered to me was that she was cosplaying Miku! I went on my knees and jokingly worshipped her. I had an overwhelming feeling she was too good for me. So, again, I didn't pay attention. It was just something to do, and move on. Then again, she didn't seek me out afterwards. That same con, there was an old woman, maybe 50s or 60s? That saw me in my anonymous mask, (Not the OG green, the Fawkes one), and she asked me to show her what I looked like under the mask. I showed her, and she said, 'Oh you're gorgeous!'. I didn't believe her. If I was gorgeous, why was I alone? If I was a good guy,why was I alone? That same con I went to a speed dating thing. There was this Misty there with massive breasts. I don't remember the conversation we had, but I put her in there as a joke, since I felt she was out of my league. Lo, and behold, she listed me too. We went to a hentai panel together. It started to feel like we had a lot in common, so I ditched my friend at that time to hang with her at the con. There was another dude in the group. He made me feel like he knew he was going to get laid. My thoughts were 'I don't want sex. I want a relationship.' There was constant sexual innuendo, and as I was holding on to Misty's tail I had a moment of self-awareness. A guy, holding on to a girl's tail, eyes down, following her everywhere. Why wasn't I walking next to her? It's not like she playfully teased me. I felt like a thing. I don't know what would have happened if I let this go all the way. But I had her number, so I tried to organize a date, and quickly realized it was leading nowhere. It hurt. But I still feel I made the right choice, there was no communication. Sometimes it feels like I didn't deserve those I was emotionally connected to. While those I found attractive didn't respect me. I would say they shouldn't have respected me anyways.

The fact that my wife was the first girl I felt safe being myself with because I felt like I shouldn't hide my emotions that weren't expected wasn't realized by me for a long time. God, the first time we had sex, I kicked her out, at 3:00 am. Fucking idiot. I felt my emotions, unapologetically at the time, it's how I felt. One time, I took out a rope and tied her up before sex early in the relationship. I think she liked it. But she never asked me to do it again. So there was a kind of feeling that I was a pervert. Still is, of course, but way less than before. It felt like I was a degenerate corrupting a good person. Every time I wanted something from my wife, sexually, it's like I was ripping out a piece of her. The fact she came back to me only made me think she was brave.

As I think of this, everything about sex was either distorted (porn), or matter of fact (Sex Ed), and I was stuck trying to figure out what it all MEANT. No theories of sex, or intimacy, or affection. Those that I did see were hella abstract. The symposium, or 'amour prope', or 'amour de soi'. Things like that. Concepts, not experiences. I didn't know why I wanted sex, or love, I only knew it's what I wanted. I don't know WHY I want to have no secrets with my wife. Only that it's what I want. I can have stories that could explain these things. But that's not always what I need to do.

I'm a furry/scalie. I'm Agender. I like roleplay. I'm tired of hiding why I have emotions, or what emotions I have. Maybe I like having the body of a man sometimes. But, not everyone believes one's definition of one's soul to be seperate than one's definition of one's body. Like the soul is anthropomorphized, but it's immaterial, therefore, it has no form, so it can't be LIKE a human body. It can be more. But most are content of getting virgins in heaven, assuming their gender and Sex to be the same in heaven as it is on the earth. Big ass contradiction. "Heaven is beyond this material realm, but I'll get to keep everything I like about having a body, without it being a sin, because it's happening in heaven." Too many ideas love rent free in my head.

Let's assume we didn't have all this baggage of material and immaterial.

Without this distinction, but keeping to some of its vocabulary, how can I tell between a soul, and a body?

So, I meet someone. They are just what they are. Whether they have a soul or body is nonsense, they are just there! Whatever they wear is just there. Wherever we are just is. When does the difference exist? When would one go ' Oh, hey, here is all good and all, but what about the OTHER here that's here? What about your OTHER you that's you? No, really, I want to know about that REAL you...'. at what point does one go 'body' when pointing at someone, and 'soul' while pointing at...whatever the hell one would point to. At what point did we consider a thing's 'thingness'?

Now my head hurts. Have a Poe. A cat we fostered and gave to someone. They're living their best life.

Praise be to Khaos, Eris, and Tiamat.

[disconnected-unconsciousness]

To the boy that broke my heart:

This is a civil letter that was written in bed, alone, and full of the feeling of defeat, without sleep may I might add.

Now, I don’t know where to begin but I’ll try my best. I have tried my very best to show you how I feel. Seeing me and reading wasn’t enough. And now knowing you’ll never respond back to this is fine with me. You never truly gave a shit of what I had to say or felt.

I am frustrated and I never wanted hear from you again. The way you make feel is awful and feels like I’m swallowing a big pill with no water to wash it down. We’ve become numb to the idea that we’ve hurt each other. We’ve gotten used to fights and hurting each other. We are used to this and this is nothing new. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of you but how could I forget the one person who consumed my life for 4 and a half years. It’s amazing that we’ve made it that far. It’s honestly one hell of an accoplishment because we didn’t kill each other. On the serious note, I am over all of this. I guess the the one thing that is lingering is the fact that you had sex with another or multiple girls. I don’t care to know because either way I’m disappointed. To say in simple terms, you cut me open and pulled my heart out, ripped it in half with your bare hands and proceeded to stab me in the back, as if there was still life in me. Don’t worry, I’m numb to you. I can talk about you and not feel anything due to the fact that you don’t give a shit about me and you’re more of a nightmare than a dream come true. I’ve lost you a long time ago and stopped caring of when and where you hurt me. And honestly, I know you’re numb towards me. You’re numb towards my cries for help and full of sadness and heart break, you’re numb to my precautions and warning signs. You’re numb to my pain. You’re numb to my blows and you flick me away like a bug on your shoulder. All of that, I have come to terms with. I have processed and accepted the fact.

Now the real kicker, the real reason I’m writing this is a well known reason, because you had sex with another person or two. I’m livid because I gave you my virginity. Now losing your virginity may not have been a special moment in your life or who you lost it to but it was for me. The first 6 months was a confident decision to wait for the right man but due to your commitment, loyalty, and heart and eyes that were only for me, the other 6 months was an inner battle with my heart and head. I foolishly chose my heart over my logic. Young, naive, and 18, I gave you something that I had put on a pedestal for those 18 years. Growing up in a family based on catholic values, I knew this was wrong and that temptation would only lead you in the dark. I chose you and giving up my pure body and soul to you and made physical vow that it would ONLY be you. That warm night in May, is the first time I gave you all of me, heart, body, and soul. You purely bewitched me with your love, no matter the circumstances. I chose you and it meant everything. I went against my religion to show you my love, the ultimate physical act of love. Now, seeing that my name in you phone changed form “Baby” to “Marissa” wasn’t my first inclination. The fact that you were so distant had started it. You pushed yourself away because of temptation, put me on the back burner for other females. To put your fantasies and desires into them than the woman that loved you. Then the girl in your phone. Then the dating apps. Then the name change in your phone. Then the sexy texts to your neighbor and flirty texts to other girls. And lastly but not least, the fact when I told you to cut your neighbor off you told me I was overreacting. Her text back saying “was it me? Did I do something wrong?” Was the nail in your coffin, the confirmation. You learned how to lie to the person who taught you everything about lying and you tried using it against me, the newest talent you now had masterfully skilled, or so you thought. I ignored it, I tried ignoring all the rumors and the talk. You made me feel bad for listening to people who would never try hurting me, the people who want to protect me. Now, you’re not so good at lying because if you were a master at the art then you would have a backstory and the dirt to cover your tracks.

The fucked up thing is that you ride out this lie till you’re in the fucking ground and covered in dirt. You’ll die with this fucking lie even though it’s obvious and the cat is out of the bag. It’s fucked up because you don’t even think that after hurting me in the worst possible way you don’t respect me enough to tell me the truth. The WORST thing about it all is that I made you wait, to make sure it was going to be you forever. That I was sure that I wanted to give myself to you, I wanted to have sex with only one person my whole life and you knew how big it was for me. You knew and it didn’t matter when you fucked your neighbor. I mattered. I spent ups and downs, jobs, deaths, and accompliments with you. We went through so much and yet you let someone who you just met a couple of months have the same body I loved and worshiped with my body. Our bodies intertwined in the most glorious way, giving pleasure to each other in what I believe the most holy way. The touching and kissing, the way you put yourself inside me was a way to pride our love. You spat on it. You ruined it. You soiled it. You claim to think of me all day, every second of the day but seem to forget who I am when you’re at work texting her that you’re horny and to come over after you get home. How wet she was, how good she felt, how amazing the sex was. You failed to remember the one person who let you feel that way for the first time. You dismissed me and made what people think isn’t a big deal and a common thing to give to a person you’re just attracted to and spat on my beliefs, my feelings, and my love. You always told me that you couldn’t have sex with another person after a break up, that you couldn’t do it for a long time, that you didn’t think you could do that, you’d give yourself time to heal. I guess I never meant shit because that didn’t last long.

You don’t want to own up to your mistakes which led you to lying to me and running with the excuses till you’re dead. You should’ve really listened, It all comes back to you. Every single fucking choice you make, big or small, it comes back. No matter how good or bad, it has an affect on you. Call it Karma, call it God teaching you a lesson. It comes back but in 10 folds. I’m living it. Still stuck on a boy who could care less if I’m dead or alive.

One day I will forgive you. Not today or anytime soon but one day when I’m not angry or frustrated or able to shed a tear. When I can’t cringe when I get a whiff of the Cologne you wear, when I can look into a pair of blue eyes, when I can hear a song that was made just for you and not want to change it and actually enjoy it, when I’m not in bed at night hoping that all of this pain will go away in the morning. When I find peace within myself about this situation. I will forgive you. I have forgiven everything you’ve done, the lying, your absence, you harsh words, the cold stares, the rejected and blocked calls. I forgive you. But this? I need time and it won’t be anytime soon. You finally did it. You finally got what you wanted. I will no longer breathe down your neck or fight with you or give you shit about your friends or girls in your phone. You did 1 out of the 2 things you swore you’d never do, that you would never let happen. That we would never go down this route, that we had to separate and go down different paths alone. I wanted everything with you, I wanted our babies and I wanted our dogs and our home and holidays and birthdays, I wanted our tattoos, I wanted to have your last name and wear it even when we were old and gray. I wanted to cook for you and do your dirty laundry. I wanted to raise children and smile at you when they accomplished something or did something funny. I wanted to be that person you came home to every fucking night. To sing to you when you’re sad. To honeymoon in Greece. To see the world with you. For you to be there for accomplishments and the bad times and vice versa. I wanted it all and it didn’t matter if maybe we shouldn’t have been together because it was you, you were my person. If only we could’ve met each other half way. You have taught me what heart break truly feels like. I’m not trying hurt you, I can’t hurt you, you’re made out of cold titanium. I can’t break you or get through to you if I tried. I’m not trying to get you riled up or upset. No. None of that. It never worked. This is me giving you the truth. Goodbye.

[badmuslim-blog1]

Don’t you have a heart?

Oct 4

So I broke it to my Iraqi suitor when he finally spoke to me today about wanting to marry me. He said he’s come to like me. like-like. Which happens to be the same word as love in Arabic. So it was awkward. My first real face-to-face rejection, at 21! it was kinda exhilarating not gonna lie. But also made me feel uncomfortable and kind of embarrassed. But I was prepared for this, I read the room before I even entered the room and I knew what was going on so when he asked me to think about it first I was able to say I already had, plenty.

I knew going into this that I was a catch, the pick of the litter, a purebred of sorts. Educated, born in a reputable, clean country. Canadian citizen, bilingual, *cough* green card *cough*. Yeah, I’m pretty sure we have a bad case of de ja vu going on here. Let me explain.

My mother is an Iraqi woman who migrated with her family during the war and eventually landed in a Canadian town, going to Canadian schools and one day was married off to my father by her father. He was living in Iraq and upon their union he moved to Canada, worked as a taxi driver, making mad money. Nothing he ever cared to spend on his actual immediate family, penny pincher was an understatement. All the while he would periodically return to Iraq to send money and gifts to the family back home as well as setting up business’, buying real estate, cars, making money there as well. Investing big Canadian bucks within an Iraqi economy went a hell of a long way. Until finally I supposed he decided he didn’t want to return to his Canadian life and had milked quite enough out of it so he decided to leave behind his four kids and wife to return HOME. He then pretended to be mentally ill, riddled with “dark magic” for 7 years he didn’t contact us, didn’t call or email. I’m not supposed to know this but he even got himself a second wife and I’m sure some more kids. Until we came to Iraq for a family vacation, seeing my mom’s side of the family as well as visiting religious shrines. Seeing his 3 daughters all grown up, one ripe and ready to pick, of course, he wanted to pawn me off and make use of me the same way my mother was used. Deliver one of Iraq’s great minds, a worthy educated, pretty boy, someone in the family of course, to the land of success, and recognition. The place where his children and most importantly sons would be birthed into greatness.

Lol, as-if.

So back to the suitor, he’s my cousin. Which isn’t a big deal if I’m being honest, biologically speaking there’s a whole lot of stereotyping and stigma that doesn’t hold. Anyways, he’s cute, smart, charming, successful whatever but I knew what he was after before my eyes finish checking out his chevy. He wants out of this country, even it’s citizens recognize it as being a trap, void of opportunity and progress. He really thinks he can charm me into giving him an out to all that at the expense of my own freedom. No. He thinks he can trick me into thinking I won’t be giving up anything by marrying him.

Ever since the talk where he told me he likes my values and personality and like-liked me he’s been calling me things like “lover”. At first, with his accent, I thought he was saying “my liver”. I was mildly concerned about what could be wrong with his liver. When I realized what he meant I just felt nauseous. Grossed out, creeped, appalled, insulted, cheap, disregarded, disrespected, all of the above, take your pick. Please tell me how one goes from being rejected after saying “I love you, wanna marry me”, to thinking it appropriate to using pet names, using words like “sweetheart”, “lover”, “my love”. Was I just not mean enough?? I clearly need to be more direct, I thought when he asked me if I had a heart after I continuously told him no that he got the picture. Apparently not. Now he’s trying to love bomb me into submission! Into giving in and becoming his wife. The most frustrating thing about the entire ordeal was-is my inability to proficiently deliver my feelings of disdain and woe in Arabic. Unfortunately, my Arabic vocabulary is a third of the size of my English one.

I Just might google translate this post and send it to him. :) If only Iraq’s government wasn’t so shit and they weren’t currently censoring everything from Google, to Facebook, to Tumblr to dictionary.com right now :’)

*2 days later*

So today I had enough, after a full day of, well, sexual harassment I was ready to blow. I thought this vet guy was more put together than this, I thought he was above Iraq’s grossest primal male habits of harassing women, in the streets and in close proximity but I was wrong. Now granted I do recognize part of this epidemic they have going on in this country is due to heavy gender segregation. Men don’t know HOW to respectfully treat women, they don’t know when a woman is not responding positively, is giving dirty looks, is turning their back, ignoring, and walking away from you and your advances, it means she DOESN’’T  like it and you should stop. Plus they’re not used to being told no, being rejected to their faces, by women no less. However, that is no excuse, nor proper justification. I’ve felt utterly uncomfortable, unsafe, and violated multiple times in the past two days. From having this man attempt or feign touching me multiple times, swiping my glasses from my head, getting too close as I literally take strides in the opposite direction of him over and over again. To cringing at every inappropriate disgusting and demeaning name he throws my way. “3ainy”, my eye, “lover, “my love” all seemingly harmless and light but dripped acidly, densely, heavy with the weight of a brick, being slugged my way. This is sexual harassment people. And oh did I tell him.

At the end of the day, I asked him to see me outside because we needed to talk. This was no movie or romance novel where some white knight was going to pop out of the bushes and ask me if this guy was bothering me. No one was going to save me from the situation I was in. Ironically the vet used that as a selling point, saying if I were to chose him he would help me and be my support in anything I needed, making sure I would be able to go back and finish my studies whether my parents allowed it or not. If I was a weaker naive individual I may have crumbled at that, and sold my soul to the devil but I’ve come too far to give in now and fall in tow 10 steps behind a man for a favor. No one was going to save me but myself, this is my burden, my trial, my obstacle to overcome and grow stronger from. If I don’t end up dead in the back of some creeps cab of course.

The fact that he was smiling, pleased with himself indicated to me that he truly believed his actions the past few days had gotten him somewhere. He really thought that he was harmlessly flirting with me and didn’t understand the damage he was really doing to me and to his chances. It was time for me to tell him that I had thought more about it like he had asked and I hadn’t changed my mind. I exploded on him and he was definitely not expecting it. I don’t suppose men usually get these talks here, I mean it even took me a while to see the signs and understand the situation I was in. At first, I was wondering if I had said or done anything to make him think his behavior was acceptable but it wasn’t. And that’s never really the case when it comes to sexual harassment. That’s what makes it sexual harassment. I explained to him that that is what his behavior is called back home and he had proved me right in saying there are certain things within Iraqi men, instinctual things that the people who are born here tend to do, things within their nature that I could never be tied to. He thought he was different but he really wasn’t, and any hint of doubt I may have had about my initial decision was gone. No matter how many promises to change he made, any change one makes within themselves has to be purely a selfish one, something they want to do for themselves, their own decision, not for someone else, those just don’t hold. The universe made this one easy for me, gave me an extra push in the right direction. And I’m grateful.

Since the talk, he hasn’t repeated said actions, I think he’s just been trying to save face a little, being a prideful man and all. Trying to show he’s actually a good guy and all. I mean he did end up apologizing. That’s not going to stop me from returning the medallion he gifted me with a slip of paper that says “sexual harassment” in the box. In truth I really just want him to look up the word and educate himself about it because he’s not a bad guy, just made some fatal errors.

[soundofawesomeblog]

This Fall, we are counting down the 100 best tracks of the 2000s with a new article every Monday. To learn more about the project and why the 2000s were amazing for music, click here.

After what felt like forever, we finally made it to the end: this week, we present the top 10 positions of the countdown. To listen to every single track listed in our top 100, you can head to the Spotify playlist we created at the bottom of the page.

Navigation

Intro   100-91   90-81   80-71   70-61   60-51   50-41   40-31   30-21   20-11   10-1

10. The Strokes - Hard to Explain

True, it is a little easy and inaccurate to say that The Strokes single-handily saved rock music in 2001. But during the summer of that year, the new band felt like a breath of fresh air, no matter how much they smelled like cigarette. Hard to Explain sounds easier than it is with a metronome-like drum beat and an endless stream of downstrokes. The track keeps moving forwards and forwards until it reaches its climax two minutes in and, just like that, disappears completely. The band then reels it right back and goes for the ride a second time, as exciting as the first. It is the track that rightfully set the expectations rocket high for the band’s first album Is This It and it’s a miracle they managed to reach them.

9. Amy Winehouse - Rehab

If America wasn’t already sold to Amy Winehouse yet by the time Rehab was released, it took only about 30 seconds to get it all hooked. On the biggest single of her cruelly short career, Amy wastes no time belting out the chorus in the opening seconds, backed by soul band the Dap-Kings and immaculate production from Mark Ronson. Don’t get it twisted though; it truly is Amy’s presence at the center stage that infuses the song its magnetism, with her defiant and relentless personality, giving it enough character to live long after she’s gone. With Rehab, Amy Winehouse kicked the door wide open for women to sing their imperfections with sass and break from the picture perfect plastic mold.

8. Radiohead - Idioteque

Radiohead truly became immortals in the 2000s, thanks in no small part to key tracks like Idioteque. After all, only a rock band in full grace mode could ditch its guitars for 1970’s computer music samples and end up with such a compelling piece of music. Thom Yorke’s falsetto, which ranges from delicate to plain manic as the song progresses, clashes with the robotic and cold background provided by a highly compressed drum machine and a Paul Lansky chord progression. The result sounds both like a virtual nightmare Yorke tries to wake up from, and a real dream to IDM-trained ears.

7. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Maps

As punk as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were on their début album, no track they would ever release would reach the height of the tender ballad of Maps. Propelled by Nick Zinner’s rapid strum and secret weapon drummer Brian Chase’s thoughtful performance, the Fever To Tell highlight remains a love song for the ages. Meanwhile, Karen O’s feelings can’t help but burst out the iconic track, helped by its iconic “Wait, they don’t love you like I love you” line.

6. Grizzly Bear - Two Weeks

By the end of the decade, indie pop was still interested in bedroom aspirations, making delicate, intimate pieces of music. Grizzly Bear, however, was ready to make the most grandiose track they could with Two Weeks, and it sure feels like they reached both the moon and the stars. Starting with a bouncy piano motif and cartoonish whoa-ohs, Two Weeks builds upon a drum loop that would make Vampire Weekend jealous before crashing into a confetti convention in the chorus. The dizzying layers of synths and celestial backing vocals elevate the track to outer space for the band’s finest hour.

5. The Knife - Heartbeats

In the 2000s, few choruses felt as vital as the one The Knife cranked out on their synthpop masterpiece Heartbeats: “To call for hands from above to lean on/Wouldn’t be good enough/For Me, oh”. What is magical about the track, however, is the way Karin Dreijer Andersson sings. Channelling her inner Björk, she injects a duality of emotions in her delivery as she tiptoes between pure joy and pure nostalgia. Instead of “hands up above” though, she leans on a colourful yet robotic wall of synths and steel drums, one that is trying to rationalize her confused feelings. Heartbeats might not have been exactly a hit when it first came out, but such an ageless track can only win in notoriety through the years.

4. Arcade Fire - Rebellion (Lies)

With its first album Funerals, Arcade Fire launched nothing less than an indie revolution in the mid-2000s. This rings especially true with Rebellion (Lies). The cathartic single is a deep journey to the grandiose. The real tour-de-force here is how natural it sounds; how Win Butler and his friends manage to create such a resonating piece, such an emotionally heavy track without ever sounding fake, forced or cheesy. Instead, the band wears its feelings right on its sleeve with an attitude that would inspire thousands of alternative rock bands for generations to come. Sung from the point of view of a child, Rebellion (Lies) pleas for the listener to stop hiding underneath the covers and to be who they want to be and to dream outside of their bed, an advice that isn’t as naive as it sounds.

3. M.I.A. - Paper Planes

The Clash started as a punk band but quickly incorporated elements of funk, reggae, hip-hop and world music to its core. It is therefore fitting that an artist like rapper M.I.A., one who was born from DIY and punk ethos, would end up sampling a song of them. On Paper Planes, the Londonian celebrates globalization one cash register noise at a time. Migrants, refugees or stoners, there was something for everyone on this global track, even if the visa trouble that inspired the song come from M.I.A.’s very own personal experience. In a decade with so many male rappers using girls as props in their videos while literally calling themselves P.I.M.P. in the process, it is telling that the most essential rap single of the 2000s came from a woman.

2. The Rapture - House Of Jealous Lovers

If you can scream the title of this track and count to 8, you can already sing 90% of House Of Jealous Lovers. The Rapture forms here the tightest rock unit making the nastiest, sweatiest, slickest disco song possible, one that could make CBGB and Studio 54 burn simultaneously. The quintessential dance-punk number gets its power from a groovy bass for the ages, funky drumming, an incisive guitar sound, epileptic vibratos and a stupid amount of cowbell. In the 2000s, there was simply no other song that managed to channel such frenzy as effectively as House Of Jealous Lovers.

1. LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends

Growing old is scary as fuck, which is why our culture is so obsessed with staying young. Pop stars rarely survive long after they reach 30 years old, either because newer stars replace them, either because they literally die before they get old. James Murphy was, therefore, a bit of an oddity when he first came out of the New York scene with his début single Losing My Edge at 32 years old. Sure, his indie dance tales are a little too weird for him to truly become a star; he only got a number one album in the USA on his comeback album in 2017 on an especially slow chart week. But for a generation of well-informed music fans, he was the best-kept secret of the 2000s.

It also helped that, with LCD Soundsystem, Murphy wasn’t especially singing about being young. He preferred to sing about inviting an A-list electronic band to play in his basement, about death or about being the fat guy in a t-shirt doing all the singing. Losing my Edge, in fact, addressed this very situation, exposing a narrator who was starting to lag behind the cool kids, but who wanted to show he was still cooler because he “was there” when it started.

This all leads to All My Friends, without a doubt the greatest single track of the 2000s. Starting with a shivering piano riff, the song builds on as Murphy adds years to his odometer. All My Friends isn’t exactly a party track as much as it’s a song about trying to live the life of the party, about doing everything to get as much from our younger years, surviving the tomorrows and ruining our bodies just trying to fit in and live. Soon, the piano riff becomes drilling, it feels more and more urgent. The rapid-fire hi-hats open more and more often. The guitars and the synths are more and more present, leading to a mid-thirties James Murphy pleading to “see all my friends tonight”. As LCD Soundsystem reformed itself in 2016 after a five-year hiatus, Murphy’s words bear more and more weight, with the idea that each stupid decision, each thrill could be the last. All My Friends is more than a song about the midlife crisis: it touches themes of nostalgia, friendship, growing old and trying to make it work out in the end. And just like a lifestyle of partying, the song never puts the breaks on, drifting at 140 beats per minute before crashing seven minutes and a half later. 

In the end, All My Friends is scary. It’s frenetic, it’s wise, but it’s also so brutally honest in its statement and subject matter that it ends up intimidating. In a decade that saw the increase of the influence of the internet, of social media, of phones and of everything else that would make our parents cringe, All My Friends arcs back to the universal idea that you are probably missing out, that you are missing your friends more than you think, that your life is getting empty and that your youth is slipping away. Goddammit, do something with it before it’s too late. Check the charts, figure it out and go out there. 

(Note that Jay-Z’s 99 Problems and Primal Scream’s Kill All Hippies are not available on Spotify)

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