Over the final months of our fine decade, Intensities in Ten Suburbs will be sending the Naughty Oughties out in style with a series of essays devoted to the top 100 songs of the decade–the ones we will most remember as we look back fondly on this period of pop music years down the road. The archives can be found here. If you want to argue about the order, you can’t, because we’re not totally sure what the qualifications are either. Otherwise, sit back and enjoy.
One of the important things to remember about Daft Punk is that before they became the de facto dance crush of indie kids who couldn’t tell Autechre from Paul Oakenfold, nobody in this country seemed to have any fucking clue what to make of Discovery. It got lukewarm reviews from publications like Rolling Stone and Pitchfork, sold unimpressively, and generally just confused stateside fans used to the growling, often caustic funk of 1997 debut full-length Homework, by then an established classic. Personally, I had trouble just getting through the album my first time out, put off by the obvious pop structuring, the cheesily emphatic (and robotized) vocals, and just the general lack of exhilerating menace to be found among these light, almost retro-sounding party songs. It was jarring, it was disappointing, and it seemed like an absolute career-killer.