2004 was the worst year for popular music since 1993. And at least 1993 had “Mr. Wendal”. So I’ve been forced to look to the past for entertainment this year, like drooling pensioners listening to crackly tapes of ITMA. The youth of today, I don’t know…

The Demigodz– Don’t You Even Go There

In 2004 I went from an indie kid in remission listening to hip-hop to being a hip-hop kid in remission listening to Europop and gay country (yes, I know that’s a tautology). The refusal of any of The Demigodz to release anything of importance in the 04 probably contributed to this. The Demigodz are all I really like about rap music: guys shouting various bon mots, usually on the topic of fucking your girlfriend or causing severe cranial fractures upon MCs they don’t regard highly. Here the boys decide they’re going to commit GBH on Ripley of “Ripley’s Believe It Or Not” fame, and then use a simile involving corduroy. Fuck a Kanye.

[visit The Demigodz’s website here, buy the “Don’t You Even Go There” 12” here]

Bobbie Gentry– Casket Vignette, [Chickasaw County Child: The Artistry of Bobbie Gentry]

So, actual album of the year was Chickasaw County Child: The Artistry of Bobbie Gentry, the sadly forgotten stunningly beautiful fucked in the head 60s country artiste. You may know her best for “Ode To Billie-Joe”, her toe-tapping chart-topper about the suicide of a gay abortionist. Or maybe her career high “Fancy”, the light-hearted tale of a mother selling her daughter into prostitution. Anyway, this is “Casket Vignette”, wherein Bobbie goes cross-gender and roleplays as an undertaker putting the moves on a recently bereaved widow. She played Vegas with Tom Jones performing these songs, you realise? Fuck an Eminem.

[visit an unofficial Bobbie Gentry website here, buy Chickasaw County Child: The Artistry of Bobbie Gentry here]

Matthew Wilder– Break My Stride, [I Don’t Speak the Language]

Vice City seems so long away now, huh? I mean, in my day it was all shooting prostitutes to the strains of “99 Luftballoons”. But nowadays the kids all want to blow-up petrol tankers whilst L7 pretend they’re dead. Anyway, Matthew Wilder had one hit that is no doubt on Tommy Vercetti’s iPod, and then did nothing else with his life apart from do some soundtrack work on “Mulan”. This is his career highpoint, in what should be the final end-word on the 80s revival. Electro, pop, and non-sensical. Fuck a LeBon.

[buy Matthew Wilder music here]