Top 50 Singles of 2003

For the first time this year, the effects of file-sharing on personal taste became unmistakably clear: the indie community's palettes-- and everyone else's-- have broadly diversified. Freed from the careful decision-making that comes with $12 purchases, we can now easily branch out beyond the genres we've always loved and discover the inherent worth in all of them. To reflect this, Pitchfork opened its new singles-oriented review section, We Are The World, to surprising acclaim from many of its staunchly indie-minded readers-- some of which claimed (maybe even rightly) that commercial pop seems to be at its most creative height since the 1960s.

The great thing about music right now is that listeners don't have to be "staunch" anymore. In an age when all music is free, dedicating yourself to just one specific genre or type only denies you the hedonistic musical bliss that is rightfully yours. Sure, we all still buy albums for their increased sound quality, tangibility, artwork and artist support, but let's be straight about one thing: singles are for downloading. As of this week, there's but one gold single on the Billboard chart, and if you think that's normal, check the back issues from five years ago. These days, even the majors seem to have given up on trying to sell them, as even Christina Aguilera's new song-- once prime CD5 material-- is identified on the charts as an "album cut."

Rock music has always been a breeding ground for great albums, while commercial pop continually worships at the altar of The Single, so it makes sense that our two Top 50 year-end lists reflect this. But in 2003, there were more than enough brilliant tracks from both sides, and friends, coming from a reformed tightass, there's just no reason to deny it. When shit's free, there's no guilt for pleasure. Enjoy. (Check out our Spotify playlist to hear the tracks.)

50: Ellen Allien
"Trash Scapes"
[Bpitch Control]

Dance music might have been a driving force in 2003, but few artists took as many risks with it as Ellen Allien. In lead single "Trash Scapes", the Berlinette brings together factions of electro, glitch, EBM and industrial for a dark post-nuclear world portrait with dayglo highlights. Fractured beats and chopped-up lyrics set the stage for the cinematic chorus, when Allien's vocals coalesce with six-inch-thick guitars. Traces of Front Line Assembly's 80s digital noir might catch you off-guard, but this rogue DJ never spins out of control-- whatever miracle adhesive they sell overseas is working spectacularly. --Joshua Sharp

49: The Postal Service
"Such Great Heights"
[Sub Pop]

Death Cab for Cutie's Ben Gibbard and Dntel's Jimmy Tamborello have earned the 2003 crown for Indiedom's reigning odd couple: following through on the promise of 2001's one-off cut "(This Is) The Dream of Evan and Chan," the duo's full-length Give Up officially pitted Gibbard's soft, confessional coos against Tamborello's laptop sheen. With its lilting vocal line layered over punchy rhythms, lead single "Such Great Heights" saw Gibbard's plaintive whines backed up by Tamborello's digitalis, creating a loping ballad with an irresistible melodic hook-- a charming blend of honest introspection and upbeat pop futurism. --Amanda Petrusich

48: Nas
"I Can"
[Ill Will/Columbia]

Message songs usually go about as far as there are people who dig the message. In this case, a minimal pairing of beats and Beethoven powers Nas' self-help checklist of education, pride of heritage and persistence. And like the best message songs, the music is the real persuader: children's chorus, one-finger classical piano and a simple, modest beat combine to form the kind of track kids might actually come up with. For some people, "I Can" was a little too childlike, but it's hard to be hard when you're promising "you can host the TV like Oprah Winfrey." Anyway, the little girls understand. --Dominique Leone

47: Nas
"Made You Look"
[Ill Will/Columbia]

After nearly a decade of trying to live up to his classic Illmatic, 2003 saw a sharper Nas striking hard on God's Son. The album's first single, "Made You Look", was his defiant reclamation: only a year before, "You're a slave to a page in my rhymebook" would have been an absurd and empty claim coming from the Brooklyn-based emcee. As a chorus taunts Nas with playground chants, he instinctively fights back, defending his hip-hop legitimacy with fearless production and lines like, "You all appointed me to bring rap justice but I ain't 5-0," and the hilarious, "Don't say my car's topless, say the titties is out." Pass the fifth, he's back in the game. -- Nick Sylvester

46: Freeway [ft. Jay-Z & Beanie Sigel]
"What We Do"
[Rocafella]

With the retirement of Jay-Z, Freeway moves to the heart of the Rocafella order-- and between his frizzy beard and gruff vocals, it's obvious that the curse of the Billy Goat doesn't exist in Philadelphia. On "What We Do", producer Just Blaze tosses regal-soul rocks at the Timba/Neptunes throne and makes more than a few dents, while Freeway explains why he acts the motherfuckin' fool in a sing-song rasp-- the Brothers Grimm to Nelly's Richard Scary nursery rhymes. Add Jay's best guest spot of the year and B Si in the third lane and it's a tragedy these three didn't cross over that bridge to platinum sales. --Scott Plagenhoef

45: Snoop Dogg [ft. Pharrell Williams & Uncle Charlie Watson]
"Beautiful"
[Priority]

Pharrell Williams' bleating falsetto is somehow both hideous and overwhelmingly alluring at the very same time, but when coupled with Snoop's wound-down rhymes and The Neptunes' punchy, handclapper production, nothing else feels quite so right. "Beautiful" is a lush, unstoppable promise, Snoop's mesmeric flow persistently erasing any flaw from the green world around him. Before long, Pharrell's lazy, high-pitched clucks are enough to make women actually believe the silly shit he says: I'm his favorite girl! --Amanda Petrusich

44: Manitoba
"Jacknuggeted"
[Domino]

The greatness of this track rests solely in the moment when the galloping acoustic guitar, just joined by a lone organ chord, bursts into even more propulsive strumming, like a sloppy-tongue kiss from the first day of summer. This single from Up in Flames nicely sums up Manitoba's electronica/acoustic revival of the sunnier side of the 60s: its trajectory seems simple on the surface, but dive deeper and you'll find you can't touch the bottom. --Chris Dahlen

43: The Libertines
"Time for Heroes"
[Rough Trade]

To this cynic's ears, the line, "Did you see the stylish kids in the riot?/ Shoveled up like monks/ But no, not on fire," seems to carry some hypocrisy, considering the fashionable retro-trends The Libertines spent this year riding, but sincerely or not, it carries one of the most heavenly impressions of the late 70s' British blue-collar pub-punk sound to come 'round these parts in a long time. There are more than just echoes of The Clash in Carl Barat's cockney vocals and stinging lyrical sarcasm, but musically, the band finds their own terrain, encompassing mid-70s Bowery apathy, the folk of the British countryside, and the vast oceans in between. In 2003, we're a hell of a long way from the spirit that spawned the surge of punk rock in England, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth remembering. --Eric Carr

42: The Rapture
"Sister Saviour"
[Strummer/Universal]

"Sister Saviour" isn't your typical Rapture song, nor is it your typical Rapture ballad: it's Rapture Class C, the brilliantly restrained 80s pop junket. Carried by a slick rhythmic shuffle, pulsating synths, and the jammed guitar chords that emulate Rio -era Duran Duran, this track may not be one of the band's most characteristic moments, but it's unquestionably one of their best. The Rapture's decision to forgo their usual jagged riffs and tortured wails was a good call here: such intense art-punk conviction would have decimated this track's perfectly coked-out club ambience. --Joshua Sharp

41: Johnny Cash
"Hurt"
[American Recordings]

Everyone knows that in his autumn years, Johnny Cash underwent an artistic transformation in which he gained the ability to assimilate any song on earth. It didn't matter if you were Merle Haggard or Glenn Danzig: if he deigned to record it, your song became his, and you were powerless to resist. Which was fine, because it was really meant to be his song, anyway. Like "Hurt", for example, in which all trace of Nine Inch Nails frontman Trent Reznor's frustrated complaining miraculously became a weary resignation to the inevitability of a long and difficult life's surmounting end-- and the unexpected death of wife June Carter just after its release (not to mention her appearance in the song's already harrowing video) only lent it more heft and potency. Though you still find Cash's records amongst any store's stock of country music, he was more a folk hero as iconic as Woody Guthrie or Phil Ochs, a rebel whose only solace was rebellion. It's only fitting that one of his career's greatest achievements also served as his final finger to the world. --Ryan Schreiber

40: The Delgados
"All You Need Is Hate"
[Mantra]

Acrid, terrifying, all-consuming cynicism doesn't get much more glorious, folks; the massive orchestral rises, the emotional tug of the triumphant refrains-- the sound is pure, liberated joy, and all for violence, hatred, and the ultimately pervasive sin of indifference. There's a not-all-that-subtle irony at work here; in fact, the severity of what would otherwise be merely tongue-in-cheek is so brutal as to come full-circle, beyond irony and back to despair. But with all such commentary, there's a glimmer of hope, even if unspoken-- the beautiful grandiosity exposes the most banal facets of humanity, and then throttles them all with a power undercurrent of good intentions and the desire to change. Truly remarkable. --Eric Carr

39: Killer Mike [ft. Big Boi]
"A.D.I.D.A.S."
[Columbia]

Aided by a Funkadelic-tempered chorus, a flute loop and a subtle piano roll, Killer Mike and Big Boi politic on the nature of sex in various cultures. Here, Big Boi's flow ricochets while he takes in the Blue Man Group with a ladyfriend, and Killer Mike's ponderous Southern growl extols the virtues of Viagra ("Let me get 'bout three of them blue diamonds") and prophylactics ("Keep my weapon covered, concealed and in a shield/ 'Cause I don't need that A.I.D.S-- a D and an A missing out my Adidas"). Easily one of the funnest songs of the year. --Rollie Pemberton

38: Dizzee Rascal
"Fix Up Look Sharp"
[XL]

Billy Squier towered over hip-hop this year. No, seriously. Jay-Z's "99 Problems", Kelis' "Keep It Down" and Dizzee Rascal's "Fix Up Look Sharp" all prominently featured the killer kickdrum kick off of Squier's debut single, "The Big Beat". Dizzee practically lifts the entire song and barks over it, and the song sports some of the worst rhymes since "feel the power and the force of my energy" in Reebok's Barkley/Pierce 20s ads ("Flushin' MCs down the loo/ If you don't believe me, bring your posse, bring your crew" and "Sweet like Tropicana/ Crush your head like banana" stick out), but despite all this, the song just kills with 84,967 ENGs* of attitude. --Brent DiCrescenzo

*Eminem nut grabs

37: Blur
"Out of Time"
[Parlophone]

Remove Blur from "Out of Time", cut the guitar, bass and drums, and you can hear Morocco. This is not some fantastic metaphor. Producer Ben Hillier, who's quickly becoming the best, builds the rich, misopolemic ballad over a field recording of a Moroccan string orchestra. Ghostly Arabic faintly drifts deep inside headphones. For 3:51, Blur and Hillier completely transport the listener to a country they obviously fell in love with. With its naive, joyous flamenco solo outburst belying the sly, serpentine bass, "Out of Time" encapsulates the conflicted mood of the planet, and really makes one want to just jet to Casablanca to soak up this culture, which says more against war than a mob of Zach de la Rochas and Beastie Boys. --Brent DiCrescenzo

36: Missy Elliott [ft. Ludacris]
"Gossip Folks"
[Elektra]

Missy's Finnegans Wake ! Here, she breaks out a few throwaway lines about two-faced fans and friends (yawn) and gives Ludacris his longwinded feelgood narrative before dropping a chorus that looks like this: "Musi ques/ I sews on bews/ I pues a twos on que zat/ Pue zoo/ My kizzer/ Pous zigga ay zee/ Its all kizza/ Its always like/ Its all kizza/ Its always like Na zound/ Wa zee/ Wa zoom zoom zee." My Joyce claim's overstated, but the use of invented language and implied meaning as a central hook is pretty radical in all senses. The Top 40 landscape continues to impress. --Brandon Stosuy

35: Madvillain
"America's Most Blunted"
[Stones Throw]

Jacked up, jacked off, quirky and coughed, "America's Most Blunted" is everything we could possibly hope a collaboration between MF Doom and Madlib might be, a glorious romp on the ins and outs of the sedated life. Doom begins with an encomium of Madlib's Quasimoto, vindicating the demon weed, nominating himself "for the best rolled L's", and turning "a Newport light into a joint right before your eyes." Madlib, as Quasimoto, answers Doom, and, after reasserting that "Madvillain smoke mad bone," calls back and forth from himself to his high-pitched persona. For a song about keeping it cool, "America's Most Blunted" is nothing but fidgets and creativity. --Nick Sylvester

34: The Postal Service
"The District Sleeps Alone Tonight"
[Sub Pop]

Perhaps I'm partial to the song because when it came out, I was in fact living in the Deece and sleeping alone most nights. But self-relevance aside, "The District" did a slow reveal of The Postal Service's strengths like a Vegas pro: start out with some Death Cab-ish organ drone, then splice in some shredded Christmas carol strings, then (jazz hands!) explode into a twee riff surrounded by programmed loop clatter. Dance and cry, indie kids. --Rob Mitchum

33: t.A.T.u.
"Not Gonna Get Us"
[Polydor]

This could be 2003's greatest love song: a cinematic gem reminding us that tragedy was as much an element of great girl-group music as romance. Our heroes' belief that their love can create a utopia "beyond the clouds over the mountains" is suggestive of "Go West", except hightailing it over the Siberian hinterlands isn't as romantic as driving toward the warm California sun. Fittingly then, "Not Gonna Get Us"'s sharp trance-pop cuts and bleeds, mirroring the severity of its consequences. When paired with Tatu's striking vocal performances-- one sweetly optimistic and the other fiercely determined-- and the noble naivete of teenage invincibility, the duo have crafted the perfect exit music (to their own film). --Scott Plagenhoef

32: Lil' Kim [ft. Mr. Cheeks]
"The Jump Off"
[Atlantic]

By now, not many are shocked or titillated by Lil' Kim's claims that she can deep-throat a Sprite can (a two-liter bottle, maybe), feed the needy (eh, eh), or that she subscribes to an amateurish "sex, drugs, and cash" philosophy, but the catchy singalong chorus for her peeps with "the Bentleys and the Hummers and the Benz/ Escalade, 23-inch rims" is about as infectious as any 80s rehash I've heard all year. For the record, Mr. Cheeks' inane parroting doesn't deserve second-billing; it's Timbaland's scattershot rhythmic variation that makes this shit stomp. --Brandon Stosuy

31: Panjabi MC [ft. Jay-Z]
"Mundian to Bach Ké (Beware of the Boys)"
[Sequence]

The order of the credits says a lot, with Punjabi in the headliner slot and Jay-Z in the pinch-hitter role. Such humility was evidence that Hov wasn't just cynically co-opting bhangra's superstar as the Hot New Sound, but approaching the track as a great song to which he couldn't resist adding his own vocals. "Beware of the Boys" is also possibly the only musical anti-war statement to truly resonate this year, not merely via Jay announcing solidarity with the protestors, but in the song's convincing message of harmony through music: Let's not piss off the rest of the world, if only 'cause they've got a lot of kick-ass beats to share. --Rob Mitchum

30: Sean Paul
"Like Glue"
[Atlantic]

"Like Glue" dropped time again at parties this past year, offering plenty of semi-inebriated opportunities to analyze the subtext behind the lyrics, "All I know the time it is gettin' dread/ Need a lot of trees up in my head/ Got a lot of damsel in my bed to run dat re-eeeddd!!!" Still nothing. Besides cracking the Jamaican patois code, the Speak-n-Spell instrumental production is also fun to take apart: the shakers and Star Trek synth squelches aren't so noticeable at first, but once located on the horizon, these rudimentary effects become a crazed low-bit focal point. And though Sean Paul's no gem live, when his thin voice finds cushioning through multi-tracking, the prose rhythms alone are golden. --Brandon Stosuy

29: M83
"Run into Flowers"
[Gooom]

Even with respect to the archetypical obscurity of independent music, 2003 was a year in which underdogs of nearly every conceivable style left their mark. M83, on the other hand, left a crater. With naught but a closet of antiquated tech and a penchant for shoegazer bombast, the French duo forged a sound both earthen and astral, synthetic yet human. The bright, crisp tones of "Run into Flowers" are immediately striking: buzzing synthesizers cascade over a distant stuttering drum machine while mournful strings coat the song's longing refrain with a delphian urgency. Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts is full of similar moments, but none reach this apex. --Joshua Sharp

28: Yeah Yeah Yeahs
"Maps"
[Interscope]

If you don't buy the idea that Karen O sounds more sincere when she admits to longing for the things that lie at the root of her angst and frustration, "Maps" could hardly make a more convincing argument. It's one of the only Y-Y-Yeahs songs on record where she brings her "squeal" down to a "sing," and quite possibly the only song period in which she does so with unprecedented grace, reining in the authority she cultivates elsewhere. Here, she's conciliatory, but not heartbroken; it's not weakness, it's hope for compromise. Nick Zinner, meanwhile, plays an impossibly captivating guitar part to match O's fragile emotional balance between anger and sadness. Talk of sincerity or insincerity aside, "Maps" is undiminished-- the Yeah Yeah Yeahs have never sounded finer. --Eric Carr

27: Outkast
"GhettoMusick"
[Arista]

The synths spit like a kid's Bronx cheer, kicking off Outkast's Speakerboxxx/The Love Below with the double-disc opus' most deafening kitchen-sink cut: Andre's production arrays bullet-spitting drum machines and squelchy beats that jump spinning-the-dial-style to ticklish keyboards and soul-slow interludes, while Big Boi races through rhymes that mark his hip-hop territory and namecheck his grandma. This could get obnoxious if Outkast weren't so damn charismatic, but they're just blasting the party open: "Feeling great, feeling good, how are you?" --Chris Dahlen

26: Black Dice
"Cone Toaster"
[DFA]

For an ensemble that can so hastily be criticized for its lack of musical motive, Black Dice's single of 2003, "Cone Toaster", is a carefully considered, thoughtful exercise in minimalist noise, building slowly for slightly over a minute, then commencing a trans-pan call-and-response between two heavily processed guitar shrills atop a lone but steady bass pound. A low bass rumble hints at what's to come: an armed robbery of the lush wavers of sound concealed deep within the vaults of simple noise. After the build, Black Dice offers a mate to the composition's first half, taking from it a rib of sampling, which spurs the track but also predicts its thrilling sputter. --Nick Sylvester

25: Jay-Z
"La La La (Excuse Me Miss Again)"
[Rocafella]

With the Neptunes alternating between careening air-raid synth during the choruses and relentlessly looping piano and temple hand drums in the verses, Shawn Carter is given ample space to lay down one of the year's most impressive lyrical performances on the Blueprint II offshoot-cum- Bad Boys II single "La La La (Excuse Me Miss Again)". Walking tall with the talk to match it, Hova makes brash claims like, "You can't rain dance on my picnic/ No Haitian voodoo, no headless chickens," and, "I'm the franchise, like a Houston Rocket/ Yao Ming?" If, going into The Black Album, we were left any clue that it would be quite so hot, this was it. --Rollie Pemberton

24: The Darkness
"I Believe in a Thing Called Love"
[Atlantic]

The Darkness' "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" is an air-guitar-inducing sonic orgasm of guitars turned up to 11, cheetah-print spandex, and gleeful, fist-pumping sexual innuendo. While opening with a kickstart two-note drum fill not heard on record since Def Leppard's glory days, and featuring one of the most hilariously awesome couplets of the year ("I can't explain all the feelings thatcha making me feel/ My heart's in overdrive and your behind the steering wheel"), "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" is the perfect soundtrack for Saturday night Camaro cruising and adolescent dreams of arena-rock stardom. --Hartley Goldstein

23: Justin Timberlake
"Rock Your Body"
[Jive]

Over the past year-and-a-half, Timberlake's grown from a teen-pop embarrassment to the biggest pop vocalist in the world. It's easy to see why: he's got all the panache of vintage Michael Jackson, but without the any of that uncomely pedophilia. In fact, Timberlake and the Neptunes beat Jackson at his own game this year with "Rock Your Body", as fine an approximation of Off the Wall -era MJ as I've ever heard. The pleading falsetto is right on time, immediately preceded by tough talk about grabbing your girl (and a "couple more")-- the drama! It's yet another perfect single from the great, white, non-Eminem hope. --Dominique Leone

22: The Strokes
"12:51"
[RCA]

The Strokes' first unabashed Cars homage, "12:51", is a wonderfully catchy slice of 80s new waviness capturing the grim malaise surrounding that eternal adolescent conundrum: What are we going to do tonight? Julian Casablanca's demure vocals may be the very essence of haute-irony as he delivers lines like, "We could go and get 40's/ Fuck going to that party," in his trademark disconnected drawl. But the track's showstopper is Albert Hammond Jr's Moog-mocking guitar virtuosity: a guitar line so great that recovering Stroke-detractors still refuse to believe it's not a synth. --Hartley Goldstein

21: Basement Jaxx [ft. Dizzee Rascal]
"Lucky Star"
[Astralwerks]

Basement Jaxx can do minimal when so inclined, but it's not their strong suit. Kish Kash was an album overstuffed with sounds, moods, personalities, and ideas, and the bulging "Lucky Star" was an honest first glimpse. The Arabian Nights hook, rebel yells, bottomless layers of synths and guitars, and of course, Dizzee's spastic wordspray are far too much to squeeze in. You can almost see Felix Buxton and Simon Ratcliffe grinning manically as they strain to cram another clown into this 4½-minute Volkswagen. --Mark Richardson

20: Manitoba
"Hendrix with Ko"
[Domino]

Up in Flames' biggest beat, "Hendrix with KO", is layer upon layer of warm springtime psychedelia, bulging with human vitality despite its meticulous arrangement. Manitoba mastermind Dan Snaith puts down a four-to-the-floor electronic pulse, over which he layers endless bah-bah-bah's, handclaps, glistening harps, synth trickles, and the delicate croons of Koushik Ghosh (he's the "Ko" in the title, though for the life of me, I don't hear a trace of Hendrix). For its apparent business, the track never overwhelms itself, testifying to the unity of its composition and Snaith's impeccable production style. --Nick Sylvester

19: The White Stripes
"Seven Nation Army"
[V2]

The "bass or guitar?" debate over this track's lead riff, and the subsequent guitar playing reverence heaped at Jack White for, indeed, making a guitar sound like a bass, made for the most ridiculous Guitar Center talk of the year. If Judah Bauer has done it, it can't be that special. The true genius of the song lies in its militant minimalism. Leaving space for two instruments just allows for the illusion that The White Stripes are the Almighty Everything. The codpiece from the Darkness remarked this year, "If it's not worth doing in excess, it's not worth doing." But how could this guitar solo shockingly tornado out of the cloud rumblings so well if, well, there was nothing but tornados before? "Seven Nation Army" is the moment where The White Stripes manifesto feels most soundly supported. --Brent DiCrescenzo

18: Ted Leo/Pharmacists
"Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?"
[Lookout!]

In a perfect world, every last overzealous critic on the face of the Earth would hail Ted Leo as the one true savior of the rock 'n' roll spirit. Now, I'm no proponent of media hyperbole, but if folks are gonna hand the title out anyway, they might as well make it count. Ted Leo's energy and pop instincts are simply unparalleled. From the first moment this track sprints out of the gate, the man has you exactly where he wants you. Instantly infectious and utterly unforgettable, "Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?" is unquestionably one of the greatest rock songs you've heard all year-- indie or otherwise. --Joshua Sharp

17: Missy Elliott
"Pass That Dutch"
[Elektra]

Ah, another installment in a series of Missy homages to Musical Youth's "Pass the Dutchie"-- though this one owes its debt for its title only. Here, Elliott affixes a vague but effective "wild dancin'" disease, a seven dwarves "WHO-DI-WHOOOOOOO!", and some cheap shots at MC Hammer, Michael Jackson, and fat folks, all just to "get ya moist." Weird shit, this stuff! Time again, Missy's forward-thinking barrage of non sequiturs, self-indulgent time breaks, found sound pastiche, and frenetic nonsensical background filler is far more experimental than half the shit in the underground. --Brandon Stosuy

16: Electric Six
"Danger! High Voltage!"
[XL]

Detroit's Electric Six came squealing into 2003 with a tottering disco freakout, the Taco Bell-citing, bra-illuminating, exclamation-pointing "Danger! High Voltage!" Conveniently, "Danger!" also arrived with an "Is it or isn't it Jack White?" lottery built-in for extra intrigue, but while White's vocal presence may have been a hot topic (repeated yelps of "it's my desire!" indicate unmistakably Stripey origins), the song's bizarre appeal is simple fact: Six vocalist Dick Valentine has pipes rich in weird, stuttering bravado, guitarist The Colonel noodles himself into the ground, and "Danger!" ultimately sounds just as gleeful and magnificent as it does strange. --Amanda Petrusich

15: R. Kelly
"Ignition (Remix)"
[Jive]

Michael Jackson take note: R. Kelly's plan for diverting public attention away from his buggery is apparently to write hit after irresistible hit. "Ignition" was so dense with pop genius he could've farmed it out for four or five separate songs-- I'd happily get down to a track called "I'm Like 'So What, I'm Drunk!'" "Ignition" celebrated the simple pleasures in life: barbecues, hotel parties, remixes that know they're remixes. And the narrator through it all is a Kelly who can't decide which hat he wants to wear-- fast-flow emcee, dancehall-lite roaster, or typical R&B croon jockey-- before logically settling on the poetically simple bounce. --Rob Mitchum

14: Mu
"Chair Girl / Let's Get Sick"
[Tigersushi/Output]

Mutsumi Kanamori chants her way through the A-side with the kind of blasé offhandedness that alludes to the decadence that lies beneath, while the drums, far too beautiful in tonality to be anything but nude, dance suggestively next to the acidic bass. Both the chair and the girl are electric. The flip (OK: download no. 2) is the kicker, though, a jackbooted march through decaying city streets led by a drum corps of darkly sexy cyborgs. The way Kanamori steamrolls her own melodic break with a "Fuck that!" makes you wanna scream, "Please, Mutsumi, don't hurt 'em!" Too late. --Mark Richardson

13: Radiohead
"There There"
[Capitol]

With tunnel echo magnifying fluctuating drum sounds and lackadaisical zigzagging guitars layered over a mercurial bassline, Radiohead's opening mission statement of 2003 made a case for two directions: a clear affinity for the comfortable past of their traditional rock background and the natural progression of a maturing stadium rock giant. Thom Yorke shuttles his fragile voice between fretting regret and ambivalent disdain, along with trademark esoteric lyrics. An example of accessible rock that's not only forward-thinking and powerful, but altogether gorgeous. --Rollie Pemberton

12: Spoon
"The Way We Get By"
[Merge]

He namechecks a couple of Iggy Pop tunes, but there's not a speck of the head Stooge's classic, proto-punk grime to be found on this desperate tale of trailer-park love and lawlessness; all Britt Daniel needs to get by is some antiseptic rock 'n' roll piano at half-tempo, a rolling bass, handclaps and a backbeat. Paired up with one of the most soulful voices to be found in indie music today (his own), Daniel does a hell of a lot better than just "get by"-- the minimal backing instrumentation here is so sparse that it borders on sterile, but any more intensity would be misplaced alongside his just-restrained emotion. --Eric Carr

11: The Flaming Lips
"Fight Test"
[Warner Bros.]

The Flaming Lips borrow a melody from Cat Stevens and a theme from Kenny Rogers in a year that saw them covering Kylie Minogue and jamming with Justin Timberlake. For most of 2003, the Oklahoma corn was as high as an elephant's eye, but that was the point: The Flaming Lips have broken completely from the cryptic irony of 90s alternarock and are the better for it. Like "Father and Son" and "Coward of the County", the tune of "Fight Test" is simple, the message easy to grasp, and the cumulative emotional impact has serious legs. --Mark Richardson

10: The Roots [ft. Cody Chesnutt]
"The Seed 2.0"
[MCA]

The Roots take a little of the edge off Cody Chesnutt's apparent ode to following Wilt Chamberlain's sexual legacy, by inserting a sub-plot about riding a Cadillac out of "these streets." However, the song's sound is its real power: Chesnutt's dry guitar, coupled with the band's cold, garage-ska give "The Seed" an aged muscularity. This is the kind of thing that might break out spontaneously in a trashed-out dorm room sometime after midnight, as all the kids from down the hall get high and put off fucking until ?uestlove stops playing. --Dominique Leone

09: 50 Cent __
"In Da Club"
__ [Shady/Aftermath/Interscope]

Slurring birthday wishes around the corner from a catacomb of densely packed synthetic stabs and mechanical handclaps, Curtis Jackson made his first salvo like Snoop Dogg's: iron-clad bridges, an unforgettable chorus and an intangible confidence that instantly took over the commercial rap world. Questionably dark in tone and short on verses to be the year's biggest club hit, half of "In Da Club"'s success comes courtesy of Jackson's story being a focal point of North American popular culture. Man takes gunshots, makes recovery and finally, makes good. From furniture store to dentist's office to museum field trip, no song was more omnisciently inescapable, and few lived up to their hype so easily. --Rollie Pemberton

08: Kelis
"Milkshake"
[Virgin]

Equal parts cantina gyration and future-funk, Kelis plays the coquette, enticing the entire American male populace with rhythmic coos while simultaneously providing an apt tutorial for aspiring temptresses. Riding a slithery stadium synthline and a stomping pan drum courtesy of Hugo Williams Overdrive, Kelis demands attention, especially during the bridge, where the descending synth matches her mission statement: "You must maintain your charm/ Same time, maintain your halo." In one of the most daring radio statements of the year, Kelis is double-cast as both a blaxploitation vigilante and a singles seminar leader. Brilliant. --Rollie Pemberton

07: Dizzee Rascal
"I Luv U"
[XL]

Love becomes mutually assured destruction as Dizzee Rascal, a mere sixteen-going-on-hopeless, tumbles out the grim and hateful lyrics of "I Luv U", starting up a contemptuous smackfest with guest-girl Jeanine Jacques who insists her friend is "juiced up" with his kid. The single made Rascal a top UK hip-hop star, but American listeners unfamiliar with the UK Garage sound got even more overstimulated by its junkyard of Asian percussion clangs and dark synths thrashing like an android gangbang around that dead, stuttering recitation of an empty promise: "I-I-I love you." --Chris Dahlen

06: !!!
"Me and Giuliani Down by the School Yard (A True Story)"
[Touch & Go]

Clocking in at a breathtaking nine-plus minutes, "Me and Giuliani Down by the Schoolyard", with its yawning saxophone bleats, expansive guitar echoes, and hop-scotch percussion, is a sweaty dancefloor marathon just begging to be realized (and vaguely regretted). Eschewing the pink-and-white contrivances of the ever-precious electroclash set, !!! have chosen to lovingly embrace slightly freer NYC grooves (see: ESG, Liquid Liquid). And 2003 proved the perfect moment for them to unleash their loopy epic on unsuspecting subscribers-- gleeful and dynamic, "Me and Giuliani" is worth the uninvited grinding of the boy behind you. Shrug it off in the name of leg-kicking disco-pop-funk mayhem! --Amanda Petrusich

05: Junior Senior
"Move Your Feet"
[Atlantic]

Even the few who couldn't feel united moving their feet to Junior Senior in 2003 can recognize what a truly bizarre, leftfield triumph they were. It's one thing to make your name on a stuttering, unapologetically goofy refrain, but quite another to break out in this particular pop landscape, when refusing to take oneself too seriously is a sign of weakness. But let's get one thing straight: This song is not about being cool, it's about ramming a Fred Schneider/KC & The Sunshine Band hybrid down your groove hole and taking that square peg like a man. Listen to the bells! Witness Archie Bell & The Drells on lead guitar! Check out a Danish Mickey Mouse club muster serious pep spirit on the call and response! L-L-Listen to Senior blow the mother-grabbin' mic out on "go!" Disco Tex, that's rock and roll. --Dominique Leone

04: The Rapture
"House of Jealous Lovers"
[Strummer/Universal]

Inevitably, something had to get those smug misguided hipsters to let their tight vintage tees down and dance; listening to "House of Jealous Lovers", it's clear why this was it. In an instant, this song transformed The Rapture from dodgy indie fuckups to dancepunk progenitors and propelled the DFA to the fore of the underground art-p(h)unk movement. In fact, the track is so impossibly addictive that, despite constant rotation on every dive-bar stereo and pre-gig soundtrack for well over a year, it still managed to keep us enthralled for its album release in 2003. Rapture frontman Luke Jenner's moan-shout scraped like hot metal against the DFA's overwhelmingly powerful clash of trebling post-punk guitar decadence, grimy basslines, and intoxicating disco thumps. Instantly iconic, this is the aesthetic a legion of disco punk imitators would attempt to recreate throughout the year, only to realize it could never be topped. That's right: the Alpha and Omega of dancepunk. Plus, it's one of the best examples of the disarmingly potent powers of the cowbell ever. --Hartley Goldstein

03: Justin Timberlake
"Cry Me a River"
[Jive]

And so, after years of whining about the horrors of the teen-pop era, the detractors got their wish: It came to an end! But, ahh, there was a devilish twist: the production of teen-pop records would screech to a halt, but its biggest stars would retain their ubiquity and force the world to admit there was more to them than questionable good looks and choreography. Justin came out on top, effortlessly laying claim to Michael Jackson's long-abdicated throne, beating the rockists at their own game, and becoming America's most debated, disputed, hated (and loved) pop star.

"Cry Me a River" is his finest moment to date and a brave final act of his tabloid > music life. On this creepy, multi-layered gem, heartbreak makes a vengeful JT ignore the high road and instead reveal his scars and faults. For Page Six and People Weekly, the track may have been a mere volley in the wake of another celebrity breakup, but long after it's become inconsequential whose betrayal Justin is lamenting, every sumptuous nuance of this post-teen-pop Timbaland symphony is still stuck to all corners of our heads. --Scott Plagenhoef

02: Beyonce [ft. Jay-Z]
"Crazy in Love"
[Columbia]

It's an old condescending approach to describe pop music as a genre of transient pleasures, but on the flipside, it's worth noting when a hit song in heavy, heavy rotation takes months and months to grow stale. "Crazy in Love" was the time capsule song for summer 2003-- you couldn't escape it. I think even CMT had added it to the playlist by August. It didn't hurt that the song's message of twitterpation dovetailed nicely with real life, Jay-Z and Beyonce being the music world's answer to Ben & Jen. Of course, one couldn't help but pull for this relationship: the young diva inspiring Jay-Z shrug off the pimp life, with the wizened emcee that makes Beyonce's ass shake like that, where the upper body seems completely oblivious to the lower.

Hip-hop royalty deserves fanfare, so it's not surprising that big brassy horn blasts (courtesy of The Chi-Lites) is the axis on which "Crazy in Love" rotates. And as Hov's showstopping bridge suggests, hip-hop royalty should also wear chinchilla fur. But unlike those couples that insist upon making out in public despite the discomfort it causes others, Beyonce and Jay-Z's PDA is profoundly infectious. Join me in a toast to this new wedding staple for the soft drink demographic. --Rob Mitchum

01: Outkast
"Hey Ya!"
[Arista]

"Hey Ya" broke-through, crossed-over, or whatever Billboard term you want to use, like no other chart-topping song since "When Doves Cry". Every race, nation, age, creed, musician, and political party adores the song. Black and white. Jews and Palestinians. Muskrats and snakes. Thurston and Mandy Moore. They all got down. You can approach pop music as cynically as your indieness mandates, but "Hey Ya" is a monument to the idea that a really fucking great song will blow up because it's really fucking great. Mind-blowing, then, when the track sounds very much like a home recording by a guy with a couple guitars and keyboards.

Fulfilling the purpose of all great pop, "Hey Ya" introduces new slang into the vernacular. Better yet, "Shake it like a Polaroid picture" works on a dancefloor, and nowhere else. We're not stuck with a "Show me the money" or "Who let the dogs out?" There's been debate on some music boards frequented by the readers of this site over the intended purpose of music, singles, and the collecting of such. Side A holds true to the idea that music is a unifying cultural force that holds meaning only in context of who it reaches and brings together. These people erect mashups of Kraftwerk and Whitney Houston. Side B believes music exists for music's sake and a idealized, context-less listening experience-- an artistic outpouring meaningful only in its outpouring. "Hey Ya" gives the A Bomb to Side A. --Brent DiCrescenzo