GLONO’s Top Stuff of 2003

2003

Year-end lists are second only to “Desert Island Discs” in the rockcrit book of clichés. So it goes. What can you do?

Here is the stuff that moved us in 2003. Our rules for inclusion aren’t as strict as some; actually, we don’t have any rules for inclusion. So if you see something that wasn’t actually released in 2003, or that isn’t actually a record, or isn’t actually very good, it’s okay…don’t be such a tight-ass.

Add your own faves in the comments.

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2003: Who’s Better Who’s Better Who’s – Ah, Who Cares

2003There were 48,000,000 records released in 2003, and Ja Rule appeared on exactly one of them. Ja’s Blood In My Eye was a bitchy wimper in the wake of Kevlar don .50 Cent, who by the end of his year-long coronation was being blessed by the Pope for having been shot nine times. John Paul’s into heaven sent, he ain’t into making love. You know who is? Pharrell Williams, who used ’03 to expand the Neptunes’ fiefdom into awkward falsetto freaky-deaks. If I was the Asian guy portion of that duo, I’d make moves now to avoid Andrew Ridgley Syndrome in 2004. (Note: ARS is treatable either with Levitra® [vardenafil HCI], or by trading in any unused Sponge Bob paraphernalia.)

Obviously, besides the tired and bruised circular debates over file sharing and the record industry’s supposed woe (I did my part by sending the then Big Five/now Big Four a check for $16.40; its background depicted a cheery brown bear wearing a natty 3-piece suit and braided watch chain), 2003 was dominated by politics politics politics. We were Punk’d on a daily basis by poker-faced Ari and that ever-exasperated Rummy (“Just leave me the fuck alone you twits!” his tone always seemed to say). The liberals made a lot of noise while the boys on Capitol Hill just kept the money train a-rollin’; Cheney had a few more heart attacks, and I heard a rumor down at the diner that Dubya turfed Gore’s lawn. Again.

Well, the meetups, Moveon.org, and Janeane Garofalo will be happy to hear that Al at least got a shot off this time. He endorsed Dean and blew out the taillight of George W’s shiny new Fox NFL Sunday-endorsed F-150 with his daddy’s gator getter. As the Prez’s hoots and hollers faded into the gloomy District night, Gore noticed a group of shabby people huddling for warmth by his house’s exterior dryer vent. Recognizing that crimped mushroom head of Justin Guarini, the members of Trapt (determinedly humming “Headstrong” through chapped lips and chattering teeth), and 2003 “America’s Top Model” victor Adrianne Curry, the ex-non-president brought them all inside for a cup of Tipper’s tea and a viewing of the “Carnivale” marathon his TiVo created for him. “Congratulations,” the machine said in a series of comfy bleeps and bloops. “You’re the only knob to ever watch this show!”

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