The very beginning of the noughties often gets ragged on for being a bit shit for good music. In the case of the year 2000, in terms of rock’n’roll, that’s pretty much justified, but by 2001 things were starting to turn around. Two decades ago we got the emergence of The Strokes and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the continued rise of The White Stripes and Gorillaz taking us into the future, among others. Not so bad at all! Want proof, or need a reminder of what a golden year 2001 was? Step this way…
Gorillaz, âClint Eastwoodâ
Back in 2001, the idea of a virtual band seemed like lunacy or genius, depending on who you asked. Little did we know that in the next 20 years pop stars would be pretending to be robots (hello, Poppy), creative agencies would be insisting CGI characters were real people-turned-musicians (Lil Miquela) and weâd spend at least a year only being able to interact with music online. âMy future is coming on,â sings Damon Albarn on loop on this loping first introduction to his and Jamie Hewlettâs cartoon creation â an earworm mantra then, a prescient line for a digital entity to release now.
Why it still slaps: That dragging groove might make you dance like a zombie, but it still sounds like the perfect thing to shuffle around a sticky dancefloor to.
The Strokes, âLast Niteâ
Howâs this for settling the bar high for yourself â and everyone else around you? âLast Niteâ stormed out of the gates in January 2001, blasting away the dreary, beige indie that had clung so mopily to the year before, and giving the world something to be excited about, all within its first 10 seconds. A perennial indie disco favourite, it has the kind of infectious atmosphere that will never age and, in Julian Casablancasâ drawled vocals, a frontman both nonchalant and urgent.
Why it still slaps: How could you ever get tired of that wiry, bouncy guitar line? Weâll see you air-guitaring along to it in 2041.
The White Stripes, âFell In Love With A Girlâ
âI must be fine because my heartâs still beating,â yelps Jack White on this one-minute-50-second lightning bolt. A blisteringly fun classic that practically forces you to throw yourself around to it with that first burst of grinding guitar (a feeling only amplified when Meg Whiteâs drums come crashing in seconds later), youâll know whether your vital organs are working once âFell In Love With A Girlâ finishes as abruptly as it started.
Why it still slaps: Thanks to it being a clattering, chaotic whirlwind, anyone can feel like a rock star when theyâre shouting along.
The Moldy Peaches, âWhoâs Got The Crackâ
Adam Green and Kimya Dawsonâs The Moldy Peaches could hardly be accused of being highbrow, especially on this incredibly lo-fi, incredibly goofy standout from their self-titled album. âItâs hard to be a garbage man when a sailor sold my glove,â they sing at one point. But by the time the chorus hits â a repeated refrain of âWhoâs got the crack?â â youâll be too busy jumping around to try and decipher it.
Why it still slaps: Itâs ramshackle indie at its finest â a little twee, very fun, and wraps you up in its silliness. (PSA: crack is still bad.)
Weezer, âIsland In The Sunâ
âHip hip,â Weezer hiccup. âHip hip.â That recurring phrase along is enough to keep you coming back to âIsland In The Sunâ, even two decades after its release â a testament to simple and odd songwriting if ever there was one. Add in dreamy verses that ramp up into a fuzzy chorus and youâve got a surefire indie classic on your hands.
Why it still slaps: Did we mention âhip hipâ? Sign us up forever.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs, âBangâ
Before âDate With The Nightâ was ripping through indie clubs left, right and centre, there was âBangâ, one of the highlights of Yeah Yeah Yeahsâ debut EP. Itâs both dive bar sexy and puts rubbish men firmly in their place, Karen O giddily yelling: âAs a fuck, son, you sucked!â to whoever couldnât get her off. Iconic.
Why it still slaps: There are still few songs that deploy euphemisms as cheekily or well as âBangâ, and Karen sticking it to the man will never not slap.
Super Furry Animals, âJuxtaposed With Uâ
The first track from the classic album âRings Around The Worldâ, âJuxtaposed With Uâ is Super Furries in gorgeous form. Echoes of funk and elements of David Bowieâs work give it a timeless, vibrant quality that has yet to fade, while Gruff Rhysâ playful âJust suppose Iâm juxtaposed with youâ is top wordplay.
Why it still slaps: Itâs less of a banger and more of a drifter, but thereâs a transportive power to its quixotic air.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, âWhatever Happened To My RockânâRoll (Punk Song)â
At the turn of the millennium, with an alternative landscape dominated by Travis and Coldplay, you would have been forgiven for wondering what had happened to rockânâroll. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club used that question to make a song that felt like a rocket back to a golden era â all walls of noise and buzzsaw riffs.
Why it still slaps: It grinds, it grooves, it speaks of music as a love interest. In short, itâs indie genius.
Pulp, âSunriseâ
âI always hate it when you’ve been at an all-night party and then suddenly the sun starts coming up and you think, ‘Why didn’t I go home an hour ago?ââ Jarvis Cocker once said of the idea behind âSunriseâ. Itâs not a song full of regret, though â instead, it blossoms into a glowing, psych-tinged wig out thatâs perfect for soundtracking the end of a big night out.
Why it still slaps: It might take a while to get there, but that climax is still as glorious as the first time you heard it.
New Order, âCrystalâ
New Order might be more readily associated with synths than guitars, but âCrystalâ saw them make good â and heavy â use of six strings. Over nearly seven minutes, they lay out a crunching, distorted blueprint for how to do dance-rock and do it phenomenally.
Why it still slaps: That rush of a chorus hasnât lost any of its fizz, sounding as effervescent and vital now as it ever did.
Muse, âPlug In Babyâ
Before they went a bit overboard on all the alien stuff, Muse blessed 2001 with this absolute ripper of a single, all falsetto wails and riffs to match. Underneath its gargantuan anthemics, though, lies a deeper message â one of humanity abandoning its individuality, fear of technology and, um, âgenetically engineering bodies that can exist out in space.” Regardless of the meaning, itâs a banger.
Why it still slaps: That riff â itâs been voted one of the greatest of all time on several occasions for a reason, you know.
The Charlatans, âYouâre So Pretty, Weâre So Prettyâ
This track from The Charlatansâ 2001 album âWonderlandâ is so good they released it twice â on its original release and then again in 2006 with a slightly rejigged version. Both times it presented a nocturnal delight â Tim Burgess purring âFeed me to the lions/ Iâll throw you to the floor for the sweet touchâ over eerie, noirish synths.
Why it still slaps: Itâs scientifically proven (in a study we just conducted) that no song with this many âooh-woo-oohâs will ever stop slapping.
PJ Harvey, âThis Is Loveâ
Yes, this PJ Harvey belter originally came out in 2000 as part of her seminal âStories From The City, Stories From The Seaâ album, but a single release in 2001 meant it also dominated that year too. How could it not? It takes the feeling of romance and injects it into crunchy, weighty guitars, flipping expectations of women writing love songs firmly on their head.
Why it still slaps: Harveyâs invitation to âcome and help me forgetâ colliding with a final push to the songâs end is pure indie euphoria.
Ash, âBurn Baby Burnâ
The second single from âFree All Angelsâ, âBurn Baby Burnâ takes all the good bits of pop-punk â the pop hooks, the punk power â subtracts the whining, and moulds them into a very British juggernaut. It might tell the story of âdestructive loveâ, but it wraps it up in such a heady mix that it begins to sound almost idyllic.
Why it still slaps: Itâs an instant serotonin burst of power-pop propelled by that needling, iconic guitar riff.
Garbage, âCherry Lips (Go Baby Go)â
When it was first released as part of the album âBeautifulgarbageâ in October 2001, âCherry Lipsâ was pretty unexpected. Far more sugary than Garbageâs usual sound, it was as bright as the rainbows the songâs main character is said to bring wherever they went. Frontwoman Shirley Manson has called it the bandâs âmost celebratory songâ and sheâs not wrong.
Why it still slaps: That bridge that sounds like it belongs to a â60s girl group rather than one of the â90s most formidable bands.
The Strokes, âSomedayâ
The year 2001 really didnât belong to anyone else but The Strokes. Only eight months after the release of their debut EP âThe Modern Ageâ followed the perfect debut album in âIs This Itâ. Even on a record full of gems, âSomedayâ just about outshone the rest â a jangling, sunny piece of indie, topped off by Casablancasâ wounded ramble.
Why it still slaps: Try bellowing along to the line âAlone we stand together, we fall apartâ and tell us it doesnât.
Manic Street Preachers, âFound That Soulâ
âBut Iâm still stranded here with all the scum,â James Dean Bradfield spits on this âKnow Your Enemyâ track over ominous riffs and a nagging, repeated piano note. Itâs aggressive and shrouded in darkness, but ultimately sees the band finding victory in resilience and in air-punching form.
Why it still slaps: A classic Manics chanted chorus never loses its rousing abilities.
The Streets, âHas It Come To This?â
OK, so itâs not strictly indie but if there was one man who could make garage appealing to the indie kids in the early noughties it was Mike Skinner. Back then, the Brummieâs kitchen-sink observations had far more in common with the guitar bands of the day than those in his own scene and, 20 years later, youâll still hear this booming out of the speakers at indie nights.
Why it still slaps: The rush you still feel when you hear Skinner instruct âLock down your aerialsâ tells you all you need to know.
Le Tigre, âMediocrity Rulesâ
Like a sister song to Yeah Yeah Yeahsâ âBangâ, âMediocrity Rulesâ finds Le Tigre taking aim at the average who walk among us. Itâs already great, but wait until you hit the final seconds for a tongue-in-cheek, eye-rolling refrain of âYabba dabba doo, man / Yabba dabba dude.â
Why it still slaps: The scuzzy guitars hide a pop sensibility, bringing edge to a supremely danceable melody.
The White Stripes, âHotel Yorbaâ
The music video for âHotel Yorbaâ showed Jack and Meg in a hotel room and the recording of the song itself was so rudimentary, it might as well have been laid down in one too. But there was charm in this incredibly lo-fi cut that still shines through today and makes this track one of the duoâs simplest and sweetest efforts.
Why it still slaps: Who can resist a âone, two, three, fourâ chorus and its wholesome, down-to-earth lyrics?
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