I browsed through Steven Hyden’s list of The Best Indie Rock Albums of the 21st Century with the same skepticism in which I read any year-end or centennial round up. I flicked through each write-up, pausing to read entries of the artists I recognize, bookmarking new singles to listen to, commenting which albums are too low (Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix at 59???), which albums are too recent (Manning Fireworks? Seriously?), and which albums are the wrong pick for the artist (This Is Happening >>>> Sound of Silver).
Hyden offers up a Jacobellis vs Ohio reading of what falls under the “indie” umbrella. Guitar music that passes his smell test can go on the list, those that fail are relegated to “rock.” But it’s clear that our olfactory palettes differ – acts like Interpol, Kurt Vile, and The National smell like rock to me. Weyes Blood and Mitski are too ethereal to call indie, I’d push them into pop lists. Perhaps I’m missing something about Haim, but they’re not close to top one hundred of anything, let alone indie, as much as I like “The Wire.”
My indie vibe test is slightly different. I ignore any semblance of “independent” artistry, because that would cancel out nearly every one of The Greats™. It doesn’t need to have guitars, but the artist must still exude a guitar-y vibe (Chairlift no, Crystal Castles yes). Bands are preferred, but solo artists are okay as long as they have side projects that hipsters would argue over.
Much to the disdain of RYM users, I believe there are only five genres: pop, rock, country, hip-hop, and classical. Each one of those genres has an “indie” counterpart. For pop, I’d call it “art pop” – think Dua Lipa versus Björk. Country mirrors folk, and anything that’s not rock will be called alternative. I don’t think this analysis actually works for hip-hop, but the indie classical would be jazz. Every other fake genre will sort in somewhere underneath these labels. Soul and R&B could be under pop or classical. Blues would be rock or country. EDM is just pop, but house could go anywhere. Thus, any album that falls under those counter-genres and passes my smell test would be eligible for a theoretical Gone Gazing Top 100 Indie Albums of All Time. Bitches Brew, Marquee Moon, and Random Access Memories would round out the top ten (okay, maybe this theory needs some work).
While I await the peer reviews, let’s return to Hyden’s list. I’d add on Peter Bjorn and John, swap out Teens of Denial for Twin Fantasy, throw on a random Phil Elverum release, and pack in everything Panda Bear has ever touched. Otherwise, my list would be pretty similar – we’re only looking at 25 years, and the popular indie canon is mostly agreed upon.
I pushed through his remaining entries, reminding myself the placements are largely arbitrary. I wondered if the purposes is to canonize, or if this is to pander, or if this is to generate affiliate link hits. Regardless I reached the end, and to this critic, who has been writing about music longer than I’ve been alive, the greatest indie rock album of the 21st century is Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.
Reading through his Wilco write-up, though, I couldn’t help but disagree. And not just with that number one pick, but with every single entry on the list, especially the ones that overlap with my own. Every write-up just feels wrong.
Yet, it’s supposed to. I’m 22 years younger than Hyden, and I’ve only known what indie is for half of my lifetime. My life with indie is archaeological – excavating these lost albums and artists from the rubble of the mainstream, tying together a mystic canon that links sounds across scenes. His life with indie is reflective, marking growth and achievements and failures with these seminal albums, aging alongside each like siblings and friends. He lived through it all, while I was baptized by music just as indie died. Every one of these records means something entirely different to each generation. To the bands that wrote them, to the Millennials that lived them, and now to me, listening to memories.
It isn’t an exaggeration to say I would trade anything to have been born fifteen years earlier. To be a teenager when Is This It came out. To see those first DIY Animal Collective shows around Baltimore. To prance around New York with “A-Punk” on repeat. To lose everything in the Great Recession of 2008 instead of the Great Recession of 2025. I think about it all the time.
But at the same time I know I’d lose everything that is me. I found indie on Pandora and iHeartRadio while trying to download free games on Steam. My first concerts were those late indie bands, still reeling from their mid-2000s heights. Those acts were a bookend for the last generation, capping off a decade of love, of war, of optimism. Meanwhile, as I pressed play on Modern Vampires of the City, it was the first day of my life.
I found the most important music of my life in the last decade. Lush is my Room on Fire, Reset is my Person Pitch, Big Thief is my Modest Mouse. I lived through the music that the next generation will be romanticizing – Clairo shade, some smelly black midi gigs, and a 2020 hyper-pop explosion.
Indie changes. I don’t think it’s a specific sound, maybe instead it’s a lifestyle. As long as PBR is stocked on gas station shelves, indie will live on.
gone gazing 