360 records from the year 2000: 110 - 106

110. Kylie Minogue: Light years

Two thirds of a great, breezy and swirly pop record. The singles at the front have a little bit of that annoying thumping production, common for late 90s R&B pop. Shame, as they’re good songs. Singles out of the way, the production settles into an excellent 70s disco-pop sound. The songs are fluffy as hell (Disco down, Loveboat, Koocachoo, I’m so high), but irresistible. There’s some excellent slower songs too (So now goodbye, Please stay, Bittersweet goodbye). In the end, it’s just a little too long and there’s a couple of awful moments (Your disco needs you, Butterfly, Kids). But fuck, I haven’t heard a record like this since Abba’s ‘Waterloo’. And I wanna play it again.

At its best: So now goodbye, Love boat, Koocachoo, Please stay, Bittersweet goodbye, I’m so high.

109. Jimmie Dale Gilmore: One endless night

I’ve been listening to these records from 2000 for months to the exclusion of my other records, so forgive me if I get a little weak hearted every time I hear the melody of the Grateful Dead’s ‘Ripple’ ring out on One endless night. It’s a beautiful version too. This is, as far as I can tell, a tribute to Texan roots songwriters (Hancock, Van Zandt, Willis Alan Ramsey, Jesse Winchester, Garcia AND… Kurt Weill). Anyway, Gilmore is great, and this is a supremely relaxed roots record, ‘Stardust’ for Texans. Check out the ‘One too many mornings’ on steroids melody of ‘Darcy Farrow’ too… I’m almost sure Dylan himself lifted it to light up his live shows of the early 2000s.

At its best: One endless night, Banks of the Guadelupe, Ripple, Darcy Farrow, Mack the knife

108. Big leaves: Pwy sy’n galw?

Ah Wales, where bands put their fax number on the back of their records.

Big Leaves sound impossibly young and they’re storming out of the gate like some mad, giddy combination of Supergrass at their youngest and Super Furry Animals when they started. What you get is: 3 minute pop songs, loud guitars, bass and drums hanging in there, harmonies, no frills, just nail them on tape, preferably live. In Welsh. There’s one electric ballad and one (very pretty) British folk influenced acoustic ballad – the rest is pop!

No matter how many times you hear it, the smell of youthful exuberance, bands made up out of school buddies, talented against all odds, getting ready for the ride of their lives (even if it never happens) – it never gets old, does it?

The production is barely there – it’s like a rough demo waiting to become their debut album. I found a contemporary interview where they said they were preparing their first English-language album. Did it ever happen? I found no further evidence of their existence.

I guess I’d have to fax’em.

At its best: Dily dy drwyn, Whistling sands, Synfyfyrio, Byw Fel Ci, Seithenyn

107. Madonna: Music

William Orbit – I just don’t like his beats. Pounding away like some kitchen appliance he forgot to turn off when he started recording.

He comes damn close to ruining this record, even with just the three tracks he’s allowed free rein on.
But the rest is exactly what I want from a Madonna album – pop at the frontier of the new, with no kabbalah prayer interludes. At the heart of the record are six collaborations between Madonna and Mirwais Ahmadzai that brim with excitement. The intervening 13 years haven’t dulled the edge. You can feel the push and pull between Madonna’s pop sense and Mirwais’ urge to push everything into the red and pull the rug out from under it. It’s too messy to be perfect – the vocoder on ‘Nobody’s perfect’ is just too much, though it’s soon redeemed by an out of control distorted bass synth line, a pretty acoustic mid-section, and after that, the fall of a juggernaut beat resembling the awkward steps of a giant. Who needs perfect? For state of the art pop, this has got the raw edge.
And if you do want perfection, there’s always the guest production on ‘What it feels like for a girl’.

At its best: Music, I deserve it, Don’t tell me, What it feels like for a girl

106. Claire Martin: Perfect alibi

First impression: In the worst way, this artist can be expected to make an Elvis Costello cover album soon. It’s so subtle it sounds crass.
These are undoubtedly good songs (most of ‘em), but so what? It doesn’t seem to make a case for its existence.

Later on: a pleasant listening experience, old fashioned nice pipe and slippers moment. Am I scared to start enjoying this? ‘Strangers now’ almost sounds like it could fit on one of Joni Mitchell’s underrated 90s albums (say, ‘Turbulent Indigo’ or ‘Taming the tiger’). Is it getting subtler or am I getting more crass?

Even later: It’s so good to come home to an old friend. Beautiful songs sung well by a singer sensitive to the nuances of meaning but unafraid to take a stand. Well done.

At its best: How can I be sure?, Man in the station, Strangers now, More than I can bear, Wailing wall