Here it is, finally, my top 10 list of CDs for 2003. This was a lot harder than it has been in past years. I usually find one album that stands so far out from the rest that it's obvious which was best. I've actually spent about two weeks struggling to pick out what should go on top, but it became pretty obvious the more I thought about it. Strangely, my list is almost totally devoid of jazz this year, even though I think it was a pretty good year for some cutting edge stuff. Unfortunately, I just didn't find myself listening to it like I did in past years - but I'm still equally interested in it. It could be that this is simply music that needs more time to develop, but for now it isn't finding a home on my list, sadly.

01. Death Cab For Cutie - Transatlanticism

There are moments when bands turn a corner, where everything becomes a bit more tightened up, stronger, more prominent. Transatlanticism is that album for Death Cab For Cutie. The corner this album turns for them takes them from simply being an indie band to being something to contend with and watch. There were glimmers of this on their previous album, The Photo Booth, where bits of really thoughtful, meaningful guitar riffs would emerge from their signature chiming motifs, and where Ben Gibbard's awkwardly insightful, heart-on-sleeves lyrics would land a significant punch without sounding overly, self-consiously melodramatic - a small flaw that can be overlooked but that can often drive me insane. On the title track to Transatlanticism, Gibbard delivers one of those massive, gorgeous, everlasting riffs - the kind that elicits chills down the spine, the kind that signals the importance of music, and most importantly, the kind of thing that makes you want to reach for the repeat button just to hear it again and again, and you practically beg for the song to be filled with more of those riffs. It's very strength is Gibbard's sense of minimalism - he knows how powerful that riff is, and he knows that the longer he makes you wait the stronger your urge to hear it again will be. And in "Title And Registration," Gibbard takes one of his trademark odd subjects - the glove box of a car this time - and turns it into something meaningful and beautiful:

the glove compartment isn't accurately named
and everybody knows it.
so i'm proposing a swift orderly change.

cause behind its door there's nothing to keep my fingers warm
and all i find are souvenirs from better times
before the gleam of your taillights fading east
to find yourself a better life.

There's more - a lot more - like that on the album. And that's exactly why I can't keep this disc out of my player.