Pet sounds 2004 From giddy innocence to logical labyrinths BY JIM MACNIE

POP

1) Brian Wilson, Smile (Nonesuch)

What if Route 66 was a blue highway of the mind, and myriad elements of American spirit could be described in a cohesive whole that accounted for everything from whimsy to grandeur. Good luck, right? The beleaguered Beach Boy boss almost pulled the trigger on it 40 years ago, when this follow-up to Pet Sounds was initially conceived. After decades of debilitating head games, it would have been a solid bet to assume Wilson couldn’t find his muse if it was in own hand (check last summer’s dismal Getting’ In Over My Head for proof). But with guidance from the minions/ mentors of his backup band, he’s concocted a sprawl of sounds that bring a pop tunesmanship to an elaborate compositional sense. Mix in the sometimes surreal poesy of Van Dyke Parks and you’ve got a fountainhead of motifs streaming together in all sorts of ways. Smile is where French horn players and cellists have as much responsibility as rock guitarists, urbane adults make barnyard noises, and plaintive ballads are built from arcane wordplay. The laughs come hard in "Auld Lang Syne," as Parks suggests, but here’s a serious work that uses a giddy innocence as a path to things both profound and poignant.

2) Rilo Kiley, More Afventurous (Brute/Beaute)

This LA outfit stuck its heads out of indieville with a disc that boasted thoroughly designed pop tunes that used oddball eloquence to create convincing points of view. "Any idiot can play Greek for a day/join a sorority or write a tragedy," sings Jenny Lewis in a manner both saucy and indicting. Like the Beautiful South or the Mekons, the group has found a viable balance between waxing mordant and gleeful. Better yet, they do so without locking themselves into one particular style — some soul horns here, a new wave guitar rave-up there. And don’t forget the boo-hoo countrypolitan twang.

3) The Streets, A Grand Dn’t Come for Free (Atlantic)

British rapper Mike Skinner has put together a cinematic story that relies on hip-hop’s fragmented aesthetic, yet has a beginning, middle, and end. A post-Trainspotting Birmingham teen interacts with his family, tries to make it with a bird or two, downs a few pints, and loses a bunch of cash that, as the title indicates, has to be paid back. Along the way he frets over his own hardheadedness and the fact that his damn cell fone keeps losing its charge. Call it the triumph of vernacular — like his pal Dizzee Rascal, Skinner makes British slang resound with a robotic musicality.

4) Loretta Lynn, Van Lear Rose (Interscope)

As Rick Rubin’s work with Johnny Cash proved, well-done country reclamation projects are a joy to behold. So hats off to Jack White for leading Lynn to water and making her drink. His signature gruffness finds an apt parallel in the raw spirit of her canon, and the new tunes, all written by Lynn, are craggy enough and catchy enough to be cut from the same cloth.

5) Kanye West, The College Dropout (Roc-a-Fella)

I didn’t come across a hip-hop disc that sustained itself the whole way through this year, but the producer-turned-MC’s debut sure came close. West has opinions on all sorts of situations. Sex, of course — but he offers ’em without being overtly cheesy or blatantly raunchy. Consumerism, too — he slams one sista for being a victim of Madison Avenue. But ghetto culture and religion are the big deal here. Both benefit from some sage production maneuvers and the most polished nonchalance in the genre.

6) Nellie McKay, Run Away From Me (Columbia)

Hip-hop MCs get all the credit for turning out cool rhymes these days, but the crazed cabaret tunes cooked up by this urbane motormouth contain some of the year’s most clever couplets. There’s a level of goofiness — don’t be discouraged by the runaway irony of "I Want To Be Married" — but the theatricality is natural enough to be deemed "élan." More George Gershwin than Norah Jones.

7) Youssou N’Dour, Egypt (Nonesuch)

Religious music is driven by the passion of its spirit, but not every prayer has the pop savvy of the mesmerizing tunes the master Senegalese singer crafted for his trip through his Muslim beliefs. More lilting than usual, the rhythms are concocted by the oversized orchestra N’Dour treats like a party band. Ultimately they become a gateway for Western ears: in a word, irresistible. Ditto for the atmosphere of dedication created by the vivid lyrics. Looking to get behind some Sufi mysticism? This a record that makes converts.

8) Green Day, American Idiot (Reprise)

Billie Joe Armstrong has long been a commentator, but his great subject was always himself and the way he reflected his generation’s dizzying anxiety. Ten years after Dookie placed him on the list of punk-pop royalty, he’s now a social pundit, crafting a hard-hitting essay on our perpetually daydreaming nation. No longer content to be a pogoing dolt, he slips, rather easily, into the role of insightful social pundit.

9) Keren Ann, Not Going Anywhere (Blue Note)

Several oddball folkies made a dent this year. Joanna Newsom, Devendra Banhart, and Iron & Wine each came into their own. The French singer with the wispy voice, stark instrumentation, and indelible tunes is a cut above, however. If you’ve just stumbled onto Nick Drake via all the rediscovery hype, here’s your next mellow touchstone. Ann’s feathery approach can be utterly piercing.

10) The Futureheads (Sire)

These cheeky Brits were on the rise with Franz Ferdinand, but were somehow left behind. Not fair: Their use of plush vocals give the choppy post-punk a big dollop of heart. Call ’em a blend of Queen and XTC.