Top 50 Songs of 2010, Part Two: 40-31

NUMBER FORTY

The "K.R.I.T." portion of Mississippi rapper Justin Scott's stage name stands for "King Remembered in Time." If dude keeps on rolling out jams like "Country Shit," K.R.I.T. will be remembered right this moment, too. A lot of Southern rappers go for porch stoop communal tracks or maximalist crunk. On "Country Shit," K.R.I.T. splits the difference, throwing in a little bit of Dilla-esque spliced vocal samples for good measure, and creates something that expresses the pride and depression, the dreams and the reality of Southern living.

Hit the jump for numbers thirty-nine through thirty-one.

NUMBER THIRTY-NINE

Much of the Gaslight Anthem's 2010 album was lackluster, a disappointing bout of aimless experimentalism. On the title track, though, the New Jersey band went with their standard blueprint: huge guitar licks, throat-tearing yelps, and blue-collar stories. The comparisons to Bruce Springsteen are obvious, as that's what the Boss made his living on for decades, but the Gaslight Anthem are a modern take on the Boss' universal camaraderie. "American Slang" in particular is pure goddamn rock and roll track that's both timeless and of the moment, an all-together-now moment for the defeated masses of all generations.

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NUMBER THIRTY-EIGHT

The day Drake's debut album Thank Me Later dropped, the Internet exploded. It was easy to see why; Thank Me Later was the most divisive rap debut since Kanye West's The College Dropout. Twitter erupted with debate over the album's merits. One song that's pretty unfuckwithable, though, is "Over." Drake isn't the best rapper, but his workman flow works with the military precision of the verses and provides a great contrast to the orchestral flourishes of the chorus. Debate all you want, but "Over" transcends the argument.

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NUMBER THIRTY-SEVEN

Technical proficiency is one of those things that, while a point of pride and a matter of respect for many musicians, is often frowned upon in the indie world. Often it's viewed as being at the expense of songwriting. Marnie Stern is an insane guitar player, and drummer Zach Hill is equally talented behind a drum set. On "For Ash," the pair obliterate the stereotype as effectively as they obliterate speakers. Not only are their instrumental inventions impressive from a technical standpoint, but the melodies are as emotional affecting as anything this side of a Death Cab song. Kudos, Marnie.

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NUMBER THIRTY-SIX

"Shutterbug," the biggest single off of Big Boi's epic Sir Lucious Left Foot record, doesn't have a bass line. That's pretty weird for a rap song. Instead, Big Boi has digitized and modulated a chorus of deep voices, pairing it with spaceship keys, '70s guitars, and some straight boom bap. It's the perfect example of where Big Boi's priorities lied: with moving rap music forward and turning in some badass robo-spaceship funk, not with making another Outkast record.

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NUMBER THIRTY-FIVE

The very first thing that happens in "The Mighty Sparrow" is an explosion of cafe doors. It's an appropriate opening for a Ted Leo song, as the man has always been at his most vital when at his most aggressive. "Sparrow," the first track off of 2010's The Brutalist Bricks, is definitely aggressive. It's all full throttle energy: chugging bass riffs, scattershot drums, and furious guitars dancing around the catchiest Pharmacists melody since Hearts of Oak, and pulling the classic Leo trick of making the frenetic seem personal. The cafe doors may have exploded, but Leo is reacting to you.

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NUMBER THIRTY-FOUR

The enduring image of "Cold War" will be that "Nothing Compares 2 U"-style music video-- the close up on Monae's face, the sudden break from lip synching, those inexplicable tears. But listening closer to the breakneck bpms of "Cold War" reveals a mission statement, an act of defiance, a stand against something. "I was made to believe there was something wrong with me," Monae shouts, shortly before her voice devolves into passionate yowls and wordless cries. Forget about the ridiculous concept, "Cold War"'s message is fucking universal: "There's nothing wrong with me," sang with just the right amount of doubt.

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NUMBER THIRTY-THREE

Last year, the Sleigh Bells track "Crown on the Ground" made the overblown palatable again, pairing absolutely slamming beats with the loudest fucking guitars you've ever heard. On "I Was Thinking..." the Denver duo in Gauntlet Hair took the basic formula laid down by "Crown on the Ground" and appropriate it for indie rock. The drums are mixed loud and unabashed, pummeling everything they encounter, and the guitars burst with volume and energy, but Gauntlet Hair come at the melodies through Pavement filters, creating a jangly, blown-out pocket epic.

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NUMBER THIRTY-TWO

Fuck you, Age of Adz. This-- this-- is the Sufjan Stevens I fell in love with. While Stevens' epic LP strayed from the formula the man perfected on his Fifty States Project albums, the All Delighted People EP was reminding those of us who wanted to cry during "Romulus" of Sufjan's gift for transcendent arrangements in simplicity. There's little more than layered acoustic guitars and layered vocals on "Heirloom," but it communicates more than the schizoid synths of anything on Adz, reveling in downtrodden beauty.

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NUMBER THIRTY-ONE

It takes about thirty seconds for "Hall," a track buried in the middle of Baths' excellent Cerulean LP, to find itself. The layers of pitch-shifted vocals and dying synths seem to skitter aimlessly about until finally the woozy beat comes in to bring everything together. Those disparate elements coalesce into something undeniable, pulling at heartstrings as easily as they kick out beats. When Will Wiesenfeld uses the gorgeous backing track to go all Jonsi on us, it becomes a beautiful homage to some of the most moving music on the planet, a place where "Hall" fits right in.