While there is a certain absurdity to it, we do remember recent history in 10-year decade increments. It is somewhat arbitrary to stop now and cut off the last ten years, but this is what is being done, and will continue to be done for years to come. We all know what the 70’s were, and the 90’s, and maybe we are getting closer to knowing what the 00’s were. Right now there are some trends you can easily identify in the 2010’s (poptimism, rap overtaking rock, “high art” electronic, bedroom pop), but overall it is difficult to say how the last 10 years will be remembered. The 2010’s will continue to be “written” for several years to come.
In 1999 a young Pitchfork published their review of the decade. Talk Talk’s 1991 Laughing Stock was not featured, and Tori Amos’s 1992 Little Earthquakes was ranked 8th best overall. In 2003 they published another review of the 90's, where Laughing Stock was 11th and Little Earthquakes was gone. This for two reasons, and neither are nefarious: Pitchfork’s editorial vision evolved, and more time passed causing people to revise how they viewed those albums. In 2003 post-rock was at its artistic peak and people realized how important Laughing Stock was; Little Earthquakes didn’t age as well. The capital-C “Canon” takes time to develop, and is subject to change.
However, I do not get the sense that many publications today feel the same way about their “best of” lists. Publications have always worked under the innocent guise that a “best of” list was in some way “definitive”, but it was always somewhat clear where their biases lied. No publication represented everyone, and there was a list for anyone. At a minimum they represented their authors and editors, who were real people who liked things. The last few months I have increasingly felt that many publications have not created lists which are what they “liked,” but what they think will be remembered. The content is no longer a reflection on memory of the past, but a prediction into the future.
In an age where dissent is more pervasive than ever, universal acclaim is more difficult to come by. People rely less on critics to find music for them, and they like very different, diverse things. In 2010 in a “best of” the 00's list, Nick Butler wrote on Arcade Fire's Funeral:
Inevitably, it seems as if Funeral has appeared in every single decade-end write-up on the entire internet. What’s surprising, though, is just how much sadness it’s inspired. [...] The fear is that such a thing will never happen again – that there’ll never be another OK Computer, or Nevermind, or Automatic for the People. Truthfully, there probably won’t be; the internet has destroyed any sort of continuity in the masses, leading to a hoard of music obsessives who disagree on anything and everything.His words ring more true today than ever.
Now with a decade of consensus-chaos, the goal of the “best of” list has become an attempt to make sense of what happened. This is evident in the many lists published which represent absolutely no one's listening experience of music, but instead are trying to at least pay tribute to everyone, even if it's just lip service. Critics want to show that they are “in touch” with the new plurality of opinions even if they don’t fully understand them, and the “best of” list is the perfect opportunity to show how they think the dust is going to settle. This is not to say they are not expressing a genuine opinion, but it is a forecast instead of a history. The “best of” list risks becoming not about the best music of the decade, but an attempt to turn Brand into Canon.
My only call to action is that when we reflect on the decade we do just that, and think back to what happened, instead of trying to predict where it all will go. The future will reveal itself soon enough. We should give the past its due, and be honest about our experience of it. There will be time to revise later.
I will share my personal "best of the 2010's" in the coming days. In the meantime you can read my thoughts on albums which will appear on it here or here.