MGMT
Photo: Samir Hussein/Getty Images

MGMT's Oracular Spectacular made them sorta stars when it came out in 2008 (after an earlier digital release). So, when it came time for them to begin work on the follow-up, they did what any self-respecting, much-buzzed-about, globally adored electro-pop duo would: They went to Malibu.

Now, after months of sun and surf, they've finally emerged with a finished product, they're nearly done with a new album, called Congratulations.

That's according to vocalist Andrew VanWyngarden, who told the San Francisco Examiner that he and musical partner Ben Goldwasser have been putting the finishing touches on the album (and doing their fair share of surfing) at a home studio in Malibu. Legendary Spacemen 3 co-founder Pete "Sonic Boom" Kember is helming the sessions, and Royal Trux howler Jennifer Herrema contributes vocals on a track.

Despite being recorded in such sunny climes, the album — which the Examiner says is due in "early 2010" — will reportedly be much darker than Oracular, focusing on the band's whirlwind rise to fame and the trials and temptations that came along with it.

"The song 'Congratulations' itself is pretty dark," VanWyngarden told the newspaper. "It's us trying to deal with all the craziness that's been going on since our last album took off. Sometimes it just doesn't feel natural."

VanWyngarden didn't say just when Congratulations will see the light of day, and a spokesperson for MGMT's label, Columbia, told MTV News she had no comment about the new album or the Examiner story. In the meantime, MGMT are up for the Woodie of the Year at the 2009 mtvU Woodie Awards, being held on November 18 at New York's Roseland Ballroom and airing on December 4, at 10 p.m. ET on mtvU, MTV, MTV2 and Palladia.

• MGMT

Coldplay's "Strawberry Swing"
Photo: Capitol

Despite what you might think, there are actually great music videos out there. And two of them are nominated for Video of the Year at the VMAs: Beyoncé's "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" (which is about as close as an "iconic" clip as we have these days) and Kanye West's stylized, minimal "Love Lockdown." The other three in the category — Eminem's "We Made You," Britney's "Womanizer" and Gaga's "Poker Face" — are certainly among the biggest, and they should rightfully be lauded for that. But, in my estimation, they're hardly the best, either.

That might explain why pretty much everyone I talk to is hard-pressed to name a music video that's moved them in any particular way over the past year: People only knew about the huge ones, so choosing their favorites is sort of like trying to decide between "G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra" and "The Final Destination" for Best Picture; you tend to abstain completely. People have been weaned on a steady diet of blockbusters, which has turned their brains into mush. So I decided to remedy that.

I've compiled a list of my favorite music videos released over the past 12 months, clips that, for whatever reason (gruesome special effects, copyright issues, child-exploitation laws), have largely flown beneath the radar. It's a shame, because all of them are amazing. They give me hope and remind me of a time when I used to fill VHS tapes with old clips by Beck and Pavement. My hope is, by watching them, you'll remember that time too.

So here are my picks for Video of the Year. And yes, there are something like 13 of them. Brevity has never been my thing. And it really shouldn't be anyone's — brevity (and pretty much everything else) killed the video star.

Coldplay, "Strawberry Swing"
I think there are about 15 different versions of this video (or something like that), but this is my favorite: a whimsical, stop-motion clip that stars Coldplay frontman Chris Martin as a cape-clad superhero. He soars — and sinks, and crawls — through a world made entirely of chalk drawings (the work of British collective Shynola), rescues the damsel in distress and walks off into the sunset. It's joyous, magical, downright brilliant stuff — proof that videos can still move you.

The Dead Weather, "Treat Me Like Your Mother"
Jack White and Alison Mosshart don leather jackets, trudge through a suburb in Palmdale, California, and address the oedipal complex by blasting the sh-- out of each other with machine guns. Clips are emptied. And reloaded. There is much blood, and even more sexual tension. Somewhat fittingly, this premiered on Cinemax, where this kind of coital carnage happens on the regular, though usually in the "Busty Cops" series.

Dinosaur Jr., "Over It"
If you like old dudes skateboarding (and wiping out big time) on the streets of Tallahassee, Florida, well, then this is the video for you. If you don't like old dudes skateboarding (and wiping out big time) on the streets of Tallahassee, Florida, well, then what the heck is wrong with you?

Franz Ferdinand, "Ulysses" and "No You Girls"
Franz Ferdinand released a pair of really great, strangely overlooked videos to promote their really great, strangely overlooked Tonight: Franz Ferdinand album. "Ulysses" is a sweaty, sticky trip though dingy bars and even dingier motel rooms — like a series of Polaroids of a night you'd soon forget, even if you can't remember all of it. The alternate version of "No You Girls" — directed by the band itself — is a never-ending loop of backstage antics and televised performances, sort of like what would happen if Michel Gondry directed a tour documentary.

Grizzly Bear, "Two Weeks"
The great Patrick Daughters (Yeah Yeah Yeahs' "Maps," a million others) reimagines Grizzly Bear as ultra-creepy, oddly greasy Kewpie dolls, complete with glowing red cheeks, bottomless dimples and saucer-huge eyes. The only thing? Those cheeks keep glowing, and those dimples just get deeper, and those eyes — yow. It just gets creepier and creepier, until everyone's head explodes into showers of sparks. There are also gratuitous bow ties involved.

Lily Allen, "The Fear"
If Merchant Ivory Productions decided to make a version of "Alice in Wonderland," only with dancing butlers, pirouetting presents, smoke bombs and Allen's gravity-defying bangs, this would be it. A sexy, cheeky and effervescent big-budget pop video, the kind they generally stopped making 20 years ago. Brilliant stuff. Then again, I might be a bit be a bit biased.

MGMT, "Kids"
Over the course of six super-unsettling minutes, MGMT (and director Ray Tintori) positively brutalize a tiny child — certainly no older than 2 — with visions of terrifying, maw-dripping, blood-oozing monsters, basically sentencing the kid to a lifetime of therapy (and seriously calling into question the qualifications of his parents). Of course, it's genuinely awful, but it's also pretty provocative, too, recalling the sorta-twisted Saturday morning visions of Sid and Marty Krofft and the definitely twisted photography of Jill Greenberg, only, you know, on drugs. Art? Child abuse? Both? They certainly don't make 'em like this anymore. Mostly for legal reasons.

Modest Mouse, "King Rat"
The late Heath Ledger had something to do with this warped animated clip — I believe the correct thing to say is that he "conceived" it — which spares no detail in its depiction of illegal whaling (or, more specifically, in its depiction of whales hunting humans). Bodies are flailed and skinned and turned into petroleum products in particularly graphic detail, while Isaac Brock wails and spits in the background like a Tourette's patient. A bit gratuitous, a bit graphic, but undeniably gripping too.

Neil Young, "Johnny Magic"
Like if your dad made a music video, only if your dad was awesome and decided to convert his 1959 Lincoln Continental into an electric vehicle and write an album about it.

Phoenix, "Lisztomania (Brat Pack Mashup)"
The late John Hughes probably would've loved Phoenix, or at least been deeply flattered by them, since they bottle all the jittery joy of his best films in their hooky, boyish super-pop. So, somewhat fittingly, this bootleg video takes the best track on their Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix record and syncs it with the best moments from Hughes' films (and "Mannequin" and "Footloose" too) — i.e. whenever anyone dances/embraces/pirouettes for no particular reason — with predictably joyous results. Watch whenever you want to ram your head through your cubicle wall.

Wale, "Chillin' "
Roughly 40 percent of this video takes place outside of Ben's Chili Bowl, which is probably my favorite restaurant in the universe. The other 60 percent is pretty great, too, but, seriously — have you ever had a chili half-smoke?

Yeah Yeah Yeahs, "Zero"
Karen O dons her leathers and prowls the streets of San Francisco's Chinatown, strutting her stuff, denting the roofs of cars and generally freaking out passersby. By the end of the clip, she's found her YYY mates, and they rock out in a 24-hour discount store while tickertape showers down from the ceiling. It's tough, sexy and overly-blissed — just like the song itself.

Questions? Concerns? Hit me up at BTTS@MTVStaff.com.

• The Other Videos Of The Year

• Coldplay
• Grizzly Bear
• The Dead Weather
• MGMT

Photo: sxsw.com

South by Southwest is sort of like running a marathon, except you're drunk most of the time, and there's nothing but BBQ and tacos to eat, and have sun stroke, and you basically hear live music from the moment you wake up until the second you pass out. So, actually, it's not really like a marathon at all, except in duration (and probably perspiration).

Yes, it's that time of year again — SXSW is upon us. It's a magical week that comes around each March, when the city of Austin, Texas is overrun with hundreds of bands and thousands of hipsters in really tight pants, all braving the blazing Texas sun to catch can't-miss sets from much-buzzed blog acts, top-secret performances by some of the biggest names in music (there's a couple of doozies this year), and have a really gigantic, really debauched party.

At SXSW 2008, there were performances by mainstays like Paramore, N.E.R.D., R.E.M., and My Morning Jacket, star-making turns by Vampire Weekend, No Age, MGMT and Katy Perry, appearances by Perez Hilton and Rachael Ray, even a Britney Spears rumor (and, as luck would have it, we spoke to almost all of 'em). Rumor has it, there was also plenty of partying — though we don't really remember, to be honest.

This year, things are looking to be just as awesome. There are rumors (repeat: rumors) of performances by Metallica — under the relatively awesome Norse name of Volsung — on Friday and Kanye West on Saturday. We'll see the return of alt-rock greats Jane's Addiction — in all their original-lineup glory — and faerie queen Tori Amos. Big Boi, Rick Ross and Jadakiss are all scheduled to appear. There will be sets by the Silversun Pickups, Explosions in the Sky, Primal Scream, Devo, the Hold Steady, M. Ward and Peter Bjorn and John. Plus, indie heavyweights like the Thermals, the Decemberists (performing their new album, The Hazards Of Love, in its entirety) and Grizzly Bear, who will unveil tracks from their much-anticipated Vecktimest album at what promises to be a revelatory church show.

We know it's a lot to handle.

Of course, it wouldn't be SXSW if there weren't also a ton of up-and-comers grabbing headlines, too. From lo (perhaps even no)-fi noisemakers like San Diego's Wavves and Brooklyn's the Pains of Being Pure at Heart to NME-approved female electro-poppers Little Boots and Ladyhawke, there's no shortage of buzzed-up bands to catch in and around Austin this week. And that's not even mentioning bands like Passion Pit, Crystal Stilts, the Dirty Projectors and Marnie Stern — who's already given us an SXSW preview of her own. Throw in a strong hip-hop contingent — multiple sets by Asher Roth, Kid Cudi, Kid Sister and B.o.B — and you can see why the whole "marathon" comparison is more than apt. There literally is not enough time in the day to see everything, but that doesn't mean you're not gonna try your hardest to do it.

And, of course, MTV News is going to be there too — checking out bands, staying up way too late, making terrible decisions and trying very hard to remain sane. We'll be bringing you up-to-the-minute updates on SXSW on MTVNews.com, the Newsroom blog. We'll have live video of shows, interviews with bands and even a BBQ story or three. In short, we're going to try and bring you everything you're missing at SXSW 2009. It's hard work, for sure. But we do it because we care.

MTV News will be all over the South by Southwest festival this week, with blogs, articles and video on all the gigs, the artists and the scene!

• South By Southwest 2009: Looking Back

• Passion Pit
• Metallica
• Silversun Pickups
• The Decemberists
• Kanye West

Britney Spears in "Slave 4 U"
Photo: Jive/Zomba

Valentine's Day — you either love it or hate it. It makes sweethearts swoon and others want to stab fat cherubs with a bow and arrow. Between the chocolate hearts, the red roses and the teddy bears shoved in our faces, the holiday stirs up a cocktail of emotions: happiness, despair, jealousy, grief, sadness, desire ...

MTV News has all your mood swings covered. In honor of this beloved and dreaded holiday, we're rolling out the Best Love Songs, Best Breakup Songs, Best Make-Out Songs and Worst Love Songs in recent memory. It's our Valentine's Day gift to you, minus the dinner-and-a-movie part. So slip into something comfortable, and stay for a while.

Lust is in the air tonight — impress your love with your vast knowledge of iPhone apps another night. Grab your valentine-of-the-moment and get your groove on.

10. Tweet (featuring Missy Elliott) - "Oops (Oh My)"
Follow along to this striptease with your crush tonight.

9. Rufus Wainwright - "Instant Pleasure"
Rufus swaps foreplay for instant gratification in this indie classic. Hey, at least he's direct with his intentions.

8. John Mayer - "Your Body is a Wonderland"
John sings about getting touchy-feely in this 2003 track. Even Alice is blushing.

7. Christina Aguilera - "Dirrty"
Christina takes it from the couch to the wrestling pit for full-on body contact.

6. The Donnas - "Take It Off"
I guess I can take off my shirt — I mean, coat. Only if you assist — I mean, insist. That came out funny. Is it a little hot in here?

5. MGMT - "Electric Feel"
Granted, most of us here at MTV News spaced out in bio class. But, we're pretty sure this "electrical eel" business is a reference to sex. We also know kids come from cabbage patches.

4. Nine Inch Nails - "Closer"
Get your freak on to the driving beats of this intense R-rated wonder. File this one under the "hot & heavy" category.

3. Kings of Leon - "Sex on Fire"
The Followill boys ignite our libidos with "Sex on Fire." Let the track consume you and your hookup hottie.

2. Chris Isaak - "Wicked Game"
This airy lullaby has been one of the dreamiest make-out songs on the planet for the past gazillion trillion years.

1. Britney Spears - "I'm a Slave 4 U" Brit snags the top spit-swapping spot for making us sweat along to this smash hit single.

Do you love it or are you just not that into our picks? Tell us why in the comment section below.

Now that you have the tracks to set the mood, you should gauge your plans with what the celebs are doing. No date? Don't forget that there are single, hot guys that you might have a chance with. Happy Valentine's Day!

• Valentine's Day: Best Make-Out Songs

• Chris Isaak
• Britney Spears
• John Mayer
• Christina Aguilera
• Nine Inch Nails

Photo: MTV News

Is the album dead? I guess it depends on who you ask. Your Web-savvy nephew would probably tell you "yes." Lil Wayne, Coldplay or Britney would beg to differ. Me, I'm not sure. What I do know is that of the thousands of albums released this year, there were 25 that shone brightly, that made me think, laugh, cry and dance and sometimes even restored my faith in humanity.

And I've compiled those 25 below ... my favorite albums of 2008. Major-label blockbusters, quiet indie fare, hip-hop, electro and some that are all of the above. Hopefully, there's something for you, your nephew and the Coldplay fan in your life ... because we all lived music this year. And, to that end, if you'd like to send me your thoughts — and, of course, lists — hit me up at BTTS@MTVStaff.com.

So without further ado, on to the list:

25. Lil Wayne, Tha Carter III
The year's most unlikely success story and the rare case of 1 million people getting it right. On Tha Carter III, Wayne spins tales both humorous and harrowing (sometimes at the same time), dropping mentions of Tennessee Titans QBs and retail chains and sounding very much like a guy who realizes he is probably the greatest, most unchained rapper alive (sometimes he also sounds like a stoned Yoda). It's either a minor miracle or a happy accident that he went platinum in a week or that he grabbed eight Grammy noms. With Wayne, you can never be sure — which is just another layer to the legend.

24. Coldplay, Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends
At best, it's probably the most sonically adventurous album from a major major-label rock act since Green Day's American Idiot (or even Radiohead's Kid A), a swirling mix of massive and minimal, of cathedral guitars and glacial synthesizers, tiny tablas and tack pianos. At worst, it's still the second-best Coldplay album. So, you know, win/win.

23. She & Him, Volume One
The anti-Scarlett (or, really, the anti-any-actor-turned-musician), Zooey Deschanel defied the odds and made one of the year's most satisfying albums, a crackling, sunny listen that recalls 1960s C&W, '70s AM radio and the stylings of Carole King and Linda Thompson. Sure, M. Ward helped out a bunch, but it's Zooey D's big, brassy voice that brings the whole thing together.

22. The Walkmen, You & Me
An exercise in simplicity and sadness from one of NYC's most underappreciated acts, You & Me creaks like old floorboards and shudders like a 10-bell hangover. Over the course of 14 blurry, damp tracks, frontman Hamilton Leithauser's world-weary howl somehow gets even wearier, and the band's time-tested loud/soft dynamics start to fray at the edges. If their last album — a song-for-song piss-take on Harry Nilsson and John Lennon's Pussy Cats record — was the party, well, You & Me is most certainly the morning after. Hope it was worth it.

21. Portishead, Third
An exercise in simplicity and sadness from one of Bristol's greatest acts, Third took the Portishead sound as we knew it — foggy, film-noir beats (your parents called it "trip-hop") floating beneath Beth Gibbons' harrowing voice — and rebooted it. What we got this time around was spooky synthesizers curling around simple drum patterns, acoustic guitars that disappeared into dense electronic plumes — a sound that was equal parts human ("The Rip") and machine ("Machine Gun"). Expect the next album sometime around 2030.

20. Beck, Modern Guilt
My favorite thing about Beck's eighth studio album (and something like 12th overall) isn't the hazy sheen applied by Danger Mouse, the singularity of its theme or the straightforwardness of the lyrics. It's the fact that, if viewed in the context of Beck's entire career, Guilt makes total and complete sense. Here is a former Golden Child edging gracefully (if not exactly willingly) into his 40s, still not sure where he fits in. Like I wrote last week, "Obsolescence has never sounded so good."

19. Panic at the Disco, Pretty. Odd.
An album unfairly skipped by fans and critics alike, Pretty. Odd. is what happens when a bunch of kids in their early 20s get together in a cabin, get baked (or, for legality's sake, don't), listen to a ton of Beatles records and think, "Why don't we do that?!?" because they don't know any better. In other words, it's exactly the kind of record I would've made when I was 21, except replace "a cabin" with "an apartment in Gainesville, Florida."

18. The Breeders, Mountain Battles
When you're really drunk in a really shady bar, looking at the yellowed jukebox in one corner and a bunch of Korean War vets in the other, and the bartender — who's been giving you the stink eye since the moment you first came in — finally decides you're OK and slides you a glass of Michelob on the house, and the air is dense because they don't give a sh-- about the smoking ordinance, and there are tiles on the ceiling and peanuts in a bucket and a picture of an old boat called "The Wild Rose" or something tacked to the wall behind the bar, and it's Christmas, that's basically what this record sounds like. That probably doesn't make sense.

17. Crystal Castles, Crystal Castles
Lead singer Alice Glass' whole "drinking blood/ playing with knives/ I am the undead" shtick might get a little tiresome, but there's no denying that the best moments on the Crystal Castles' self-titled debut come when she opens her mouth and just roars. Actually, the chippy, blippy instrumentals dreamed up by mastermind Ethan Kath are pretty great too. Part cyber-punk skuzz, part minimalist perfection, Crystal Castles might be the future, or no one might give a crap by this time next year, but there were few albums released in '08 more invigorating than this one.

16. MGMT, Oracular Spectacular
Take everything I said in that last sentence and apply it here too, except replace "cyber-punk skuzz" with "hippie-dippie noodling" and "minimalist perfection" with "burbling synthesizer overkill." Everything about these guys leads me to believe that we'll never hear a note from them again, but it's not as if that matters. For 12 glorious months (OK, more like 14, since the album was released digitally last year), MGMT were the shining poster boys for a Brooklyn scene that never was and the world's leading purveyors of wide-eyed electro optimism. Though that just might be the drugs talking.

15. Hercules and Love Affair, Hercules and Love Affair
Sumptuous, sprawling neo-disco/post-house (as if I can tell the difference) from New York-based DJ Andy Butler, Hercules isn't so much a band as a "musical project," one unafraid to blur genders and genres and genealogy, which is about the only way to explain gems like "Blind" and "Hercules Theme." It's probably why Antony Hegarty got involved too. Gay, straight, man, woman or something else entirely, this album is guaranteed to make you feel funny in your special place(s).

14. Bon Iver, For Emma, Forever Ago
The year's most interesting backstory — bearded dude gets dumped, ditches band, nearly dies, moves to cabin in northern Wisconsin to recuperate, gets even more bearded, is utterly and completely alone — also made for one of the year's best albums. (OK, OK, Justin Vernon, a.k.a. Bon Iver, actually released this by himself in 2007, but who's counting?) Emma is a creaky, delicate and deliberately lo-fi take on love and loss, played wonderfully and sung in Vernon's husky, hushed tones. In other words, it sounds exactly like an album recorded by a bearded guy in a cabin in Wisconsin in the middle of winter is supposed to sound. Also, my wife really likes this one a lot.

13. M83, Saturdays = Youth
Anthony Gonzalez pens a loving ode to his faded youth, an album full of gauzy fantasy pop, starbursting synthesizers and gull-wing guitars (he grew up in the '80s, if you couldn't guess). Saturdays = Youth sounds like every single John Hughes film ever made, not to mention the rush of hormones that come with "Enchantment Under the Sea" dances or holding hands with a girl in a graveyard or drinking your first bottle of Boone's Farm in a parking lot. The sensations of being invincible, indestructible and, most of all, free ... and being too young to know any better. So basically, it's the soundtrack to universal youth — but, of course, some of us are old enough to realize that fact.

12. Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend
The boat shoes. The pique polo shirts. The musicology classes. The Ivy League diplomas. These are the things great bands are made of, no? Regardless of what you might think about VW — that they are snobs, that they are overrated, that they are kind of wieners — you cannot deny their ear for pitch-perfect indie pop. Their self-titled debut packed more hooks into a scant 34 minutes than any other album released this year. And perhaps, in doing so, it also gives us reason to reconsider the very idea of what a rock act should be these days. If a dude named Ezra can rock, well, then certainly anyone can. Also, this was the whitest album of the year, at least until Kanye dropped 808s & Heartbreak, that is.

11. Constantines, Kensington Heights
It's perhaps a testament to the growl of frontman Bryan Webb that even when he rumbles, "You can tell by the way I walk/ I've got hard feelings," you get the sense that he's somehow holding back. If anything, that's a pretty good way to sum up the fourth album from the Cons, a slab of blue-collar rage that tries very hard to keep it all stuffed up inside. The end result is songs like "I Will Not Sing a Hateful Song," "New King" and "Do What You Can Do," which bristle with anger as much as they do with, well, restraint. Webb might be drowning in debt, crushed by the expectations of previous generations, jobless, shiftless and generally helpless, but he's somehow managed to swallow all the rage that comes along with that, and only after letting it ferment for a while does he finally let the venom fly. There might not be a more happily angry album released this decade. Which means, in a way, the anger is a gift.

10. Death Cab for Cutie, Narrow Stairs
There are so many moments on Stairs where something seems to be teetering on the brink of collapse — the reverb-drenched middle of "Bixby Canyon Bridge," the wobbling bass and guitars in the intro of "I Will Possess Your Heart," the tablas (!) in "Pity and Fear," Ben Gibbard's psyche on "The Ice Is Getting Thinner" — that it's a testament to Death Cab's skill that they're able to pull it off. It's a testament to their dedication that they let things get that far in the first place. From the beginning, they claimed Stairs would be "bloody" and "loose" — a conscious step away from the polish of their Plans album — and it most certainly is both of those things, and then some. It's a perfectly imperfect album, which is to say that it sounds very much like a band, setting up in a room and just letting it rip, and that makes it perhaps more compelling than 90 percent of the rock albums released this year.

9. Erykah Badu, New Amerykah, Part One (Fourth World War)
Time isn't really important in Badu's New Amerykah, which is why she jumps from the smoke-filled streets of the 1970s to the darkened and desperate projects of the present day to the post (pre?) apocalyptic future without much concern for the narrative arc. What is important is the message she conveys throughout those travels: that no matter how hard we try, things keep falling apart. They have been and they are and they will continue to do so, unless we wake up, stand up and — most of all — fight. So she puts the gun to our backs, orders us to march headlong into the darkness. She might not tell us where we're going — or what we'll see when we get there — but no one ever said revolutions were easy. This is a story told through stony beats, crackling samples and smoky voices, and rather terrifyingly so. Welcome to post-millennial tension.

8. No Age, Nouns
If someday, an archeologist uncovers the ruins of L.A. club the Smell, they will undoubtedly also uncover copies of Nouns, the best album by the best band to be birthed from the scene (maybe the discs are in a supply closet or something). And when they finally figure out how to play the things on their 3-D holographic decks (these will be like giant laserdisc players or something, only with holograms) what will they think? Probably something to the effect of "Wow, these dudes can't play their instruments," at which point, some nerdy rock historian/ architect guy will turn to them and say something like, "Oh yeah? Well neither did the Ramones." And everyone will sort of nod in agreement and then move on to uncovering Pink's Hot Dogs or giant statues of Kobe Bryant from the rubble.

7. The Plastic Constellations, We Appreciate You
For something like 13 years, TPC were mythic warriors of rock ... writing songs about slaying mighty beasts and brotherhood and drinking on front stoops, playing legendarily boozy live shows, partying — and playing — harder than mere mortals ought to. Of course, this eventually caught up with them (they never made a dime doing any of it), so they were forced to tackle decidedly un-mythic tasks like fixing cars or selling real estate to make ends meet. They managed to keep the balance between rock and responsibility going for a few years, but in the end, guess which side won? So, in early '08, when they announced they were calling it quits, I was saddened, but certainly understanding. One cannot rock forever. That their farewell album, We Appreciate You, is so awesome — full of big dumb hooks and even dumber lyrics — makes me reconsider that sentiment. Their riffs will most certainly be missed, though it's good to know they were buried with their swords and shields. We'll meet up again someday in the afterlife, dudes.

6. Girl Talk, Feed the Animals
In theory, this is just dance music, except you really can't dance to it. It's probably also illegal, only it just might be protected under the concept of "fair use." It could be art, but most art I'm familiar with doesn't contain samples from Too Short's "B---job Betty" and Dr. Dre's "Bi---es Ain't Sh--." So why don't we just call it all of the above? I don't think anyone involved with Feed the Animals — not Gregg Gillis, not the folks at Illegal Art, not anyone who's work is sampled on the album — intended it to become the lightning rod for 21st-century discourse that it somehow did ("Who owns music?" "What is intellectual property?" etc., etc., etc.), so perhaps it's just best to agree that everyone's right. Perhaps Animals will become the bedrock for a landmark Supreme Court decision ... perhaps Gillis will be sued within an inch of his life ... or perhaps he's the greatest media artist currently working, and we should all be grateful for that. Or maybe not. Because, really, f--- art, let's dance. Or at least attempt to.

5. The Hold Steady, Stay Positive
I don't think I can ever sum this one up any better than I did back in July. Why even bother trying: "The best band in America makes the best album of their career, a sprawling, profane opus that takes the singular world frontman Craig Finn has created over the course of four albums — dead-end kids doing dead-end things, usually down by the banks of the Mississippi River — and folds it in on itself, creating something entirely new in the process. There is still plenty of drinking (on water towers, in the woods, in Memphis) and drugging (in hotel rooms, at laser-light shows, in "cute little cars") and dance floors, but things have somehow gotten darker this time around, as if Finn himself knows that the party can't last forever and Sunday morning's gotta come someday. So accordingly, kids are crucified, canonized and catch spears in the side, while VFW halls and 7 Seconds cassettes are revered like Bethlehem or the Old Testament. Bar bands aren't supposed to be this God-fearing, unless they're drinking the sacramental wine, which, knowing the Hold Steady, doesn't seem all that improbable at this point."

4. Kanye West, 808s & Heartbreak
Kanye has spent the past 12 months being wronged. Wronged by life. Wronged in love. And wronged by his contemporaries (especially those at the Recording Academy). So is there any wonder why, on Heartbreak, he's eternally the victim? Then again, it takes an artist of his skill — and one possessing his ego — to make an album so one-sided, let alone one that's this great. His detractors might say that the Auto-Tune thing is played out, or that he made a mighty mistake by ditching the rapping, but that's only because they're probably put off by everything he's accomplished here, if not made a little uncomfortable. Unflinchingly honest (even when he's probably bending the truth a bit), emotionally unbalanced, this is West as we've never seen — or heard — him before. He's alone on an island (Would 50 ever consider making an album like this? Could he?) establishing himself as one of the few great artists of the 21st century. And on Heartbreak — an album of singular focus and purpose — he's created a great piece of art.

3. The Gaslight Anthem, The '59 Sound
If Brian Fallon is sincere — and given his snarl, his growly voice and his leather jacket, there's no reason to believe he isn't — then he's perhaps the most hopelessly romantic kid to ever have been raised in New Brunswick, New Jersey. And I don't mean that in the "flowers and candy" sense of the term. Rather, he's in love with romantic ideals: of rock-and-roll Saturday nights, of magical drive-in theaters, of the fins on the back of an old Cadillac. On The '59 Sound, he's created a world where all of those things coexist — where a punk act from Jersey can move crowds like the Boss, or share the stage with Tom Petty, where rockabilly chicks leave you stranded in all-night diners, where salvation can be found at the turn of a radio dial. And to that end, there's an unmistakable nostalgic streak through his lyrics and the band's go-go-go guitars, but it's nostalgia in the sweet, straightforward, black-and-white sense ... the kind you see projected on screens. Because life can be a movie, but only if you believe it so.

2. Deerhunter, Microcastle/ Weird Era Cont. It's difficult to commend a band on their restraint when it released two albums in 2008, but over the course of a pair of discs — and 25 songs — Deerhunter managed to show nothing but restraint, reeling in the sonic terrorism and just writing knee-buckling tunes. "Nothing Ever Happened," "Saved by Old Times" and "Operation" were plenty good — swoony, scary, driving stuff — that delivered on the promise of their 2007 output (particularly "After Class," the song they released on the Rare Book Room Records comp) and showcased a band quickly turning into one of indie rock's best. Frontman Bradford Cox's lyrics were still open-wound raw, and there were still moments on both albums of hissy, misty experimentation, but Microcastle and Weird Era sharpened the focus, and because of that, they're both massively great, not to mention welcome additions to the legendary list of albums released by the 4AD label. Legacies are tough to figure — especially when you're talking about Deerhunter, a band that seems determined to destroy whatever good will it's built up — but I have the feeling that in 10 years' time, we'll look back at both of these albums as being landmark indie. There's magic here. You've just got to sift through a bit of detritus to find it. That's the Deerhunter way.

1. TV on the Radio, Dear Science
An album that wrestles with big questions: How does humanity survive in the era of technology? How do we find beauty in an increasingly ugly world? Why do we continue when the odds are stacked against us? There might be no answer to any of those things — and TVOTR are smart enough to realize that — so instead, they can only offer up unflinching optimism and a steadfast resolve to never give up searching for those slippery solutions. Dear Science is, on the surface, a very mechanical beast — full of shimmery synths, pulsing electronics, otherworldly falsettos — and it's an album about the 21st century, to be sure, but there's also a very human heart beating beneath it all, because it's mainly an album about love, family, life, happiness and the kind of things that have buoyed man since the very beginning of time. Is love all we really need? It sounds vaguely ridiculous, but then again — who knows? Perhaps a little faith in the timeless is all we really need. At least, I hope so.

This is just our opinion — what's yours? Share your lists by uploading a video to YouRHere.MTV.com or leaving a comment below.

• Lil Wayne
• Kanye West
• Death Cab For Cutie
• Panic at the Disco
• Erykah Badu

Lil Wayne, Beyoncé and Kanye West
Photo: Universal/ Sony/ Atlantic

Music-wise, perhaps the best thing about 2008 was that it wasn't 2007. Unlike last year — which could generously be described as "catastrophic" — there were decidedly fewer "Oh my God, the industry is f---ing collapsing" moments in '08 ... instead, we had artists selling 1 million albums in a week (Lil Wayne), intelligent pop stars with establishment-tweaking radio hits (Katy Perry) and long-in-the-tooth vets striking back with industry-defying successes (Kid Rock). If there was one theme, perhaps it was that, for the first time in a long time, things didn't look so terrible.

Of course, that's overly optimistic. Things are still plenty bad. And they might get worse. But 2008 definitely had its moments — moments of hope and genuinely excellent music — and I've collected the 33 best below. Because rather than focus on the rather terrifying future, let's celebrate the year that was — a year that generally wasn't all that bad. And to help us do that, here's my list of the Best Songs of 2008 ... a collection of party starters, pop hits and somber ballads, plus a few that defy any and all definition. Oh, and no Britney. Sorry.

It's a long list, but if you make it all the way through, I'd love to hear some of your picks, too. Feel free to send them to me at BTTS@MTVStaff.com, or sound off below.

33. Katy Perry, "Hot N Cold"
This is the Katy Perry song that wasn't offensive to GLAAD.

32. The Silver Jews, "Party Barge"
A honky-tonk song about a wayward party pontoon, as sung by a nasally poet/cartoonist from Virginia and his wife who used to work in an office park. It opens with a bit of bathroom-wall philosophy ("Father drove a steamroller/ Mama was a crossing guard/ She got rolled when he got steamed/ And I got left in charge"), goes on to mention "Satan's jeweled lobster" and "chicken-fried pigeon," and features more nautical sound effects than any other tune released this decade. There is nothing not to love.

31. Jay-Z, "Jockin' Jay-Z"
The Run-DMC sample. The hellishly gnarled guitar line (which might not actually be a guitar at all). The snarling, simplistic backbeat. The shout-out to Barack Obama. The dis of Noel Gallagher. The hunger, the humor, the anger, the swagger. Basically everything you'd expect from a Jay/Kanye collabo, only so much more. And less. At the same time.

30. Atlas Sound, "Quick Canal"
A stunning, skittering and slightly water-logged 13-minute soundscape that probably wouldn't have been heard this year, if not for the MediaFire mishaps of Deerhunter frontman Bradford Cox. In August, he accidentally posted an entire DH album and an unmastered Atlas Sound record (his side project, FYI) on his blog, and within hours, both spread like wildfire throughout the Internets. Cox got pissed, then apologized, then said that "Canal" was supposed to feature vocals, only he hadn't gotten around to recording them yet. And while the backstory is pretty great, the song itself is even better. Full of gently undulating electronic pulses, snapping drums and a barely there guitar, it eventually erupts like a bottle rocket, sending sparks flying through my headphones and reminding me of Stereolab, Tortoise and Mogwai and anything else I was getting baked and listening to in 2001. The best mistake of '08.

29. The Airborne Toxic Event, "Sometime Around Midnight"
I have had several nights exactly like the one detailed in this song, except most of them ended with me throwing up in a cab/vestibule/New Jersey.

28. Tom Gabel, "Random Hearts"
On his own, Against Me! frontman Tom Gabel has always followed the acoustic, "This-Machine-Kills-Fascists" ethos of Woody Guthrie, so it's surprising that the first things you hear on "Random Hearts" — the lead track from his solo album Heart Burns — is a series of staccato handclaps, muscle-y chords and Gabel's husky growl. Then the whole thing builds to a chorus so mean it'll steal your lunch money, and you get the feeling that Fascists aren't the only people Gabel wants to kill. He'd do anything for love, but he won't do that. Actually, he probably would.

27. Panic at the Disco, "Northern Downpour"
If a tree-shaped bong falls in the woods surrounding a Nevada cabin, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If it does, I bet it sounds like this song — somber and stony and genuinely pretty, not to mention probably the best thing Panic will ever do. The harmonizing between Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie is worth the price of admission alone; the fact that Ross spends the majority of the "Downpour" video dressed like an attendee at the Memphis Insurance Adjusters' 1973 Winter Conference is just icing on the cake.

26. Beck, "Modern Guilt"
A shambling, rambling take on 21st-century alienation, courtesy of a guy who's been alienated since the late 20th century. "Guilt" wouldn't seem out of place on any of Beck's earlier, uh, "quieter" albums (One Foot in the Grave, Sea Change, etc.), except that here — for perhaps the first time in his 15-year career — he's playing it straightforward, looking (and sounding) very much like a guy edging gracefully into his 40s. It's a logical step ... obsolescence has never sounded so good.

25. Wye Oak, "Please Concrete"
Textbook dreamy indie-folk from a Baltimore duo, "Concrete" sounds like 6 p.m. on a Sunday, until the two-minute mark, when the whole thing arches its back and positively hisses. Guaranteed to terrify your stoned roommate when he dozes on the futon.

24. The Plastic Constellations, "Phantom Canyon"
Big, dumb hooks and even bigger, dumber lyrics (about, apparently, "one of Northern Colorado's last roadless canyons"), from the broadswords and brains of TPC, the greatest rock band no one ever gave a sh-- about. After battling industry indifference for more than 13 years, they called it quits in April, which is a shame, because considering the wallop "Canyon" packs, there were only bigger things on the horizon. Even the bravest (or drunkest) of warriors can't fight forever, but it would've been awesome if the guys in TPC gave it a shot.

23. Hercules and Love Affair, "Hercules Theme"
Sumptuous — and strangely dirty — post-house (or, if you prefer, neo-disco) that's full of slutty horns, sleazy bass and horny background vocals. If this doesn't make you wanna grab that special lady (or fella) in your life, chances are you're dead. Or a member of Focus on the Family.

22. Ida Maria, "Oh My God"
Norwegian-born Ida Maria Børli Sivertsen (just call her Ida Maria for short) possesses a voice that can shift tectonic plates, and here — backed by a spazzy three-piece — she sounds as if she's teetering on the brink of doing just that. At song's end, when she finally lets loose, the results can be measured on the Richter scale.

21. Crystal Castles vs. Health, "Crimewave"
Over a beat that sounds like Tetris blocks falling (or an NES melting), Alice Glass mumbles about "dark eyelids" and "nice breasts" and I have no idea what else. Not that it really matters.

20. TV on the Radio, "Golden Age"
A disco shuffle. A supple falsetto. Charging horns. Electronic frippery. Backward-looking. Forward-thinking. At the same time. Rock. R&B. Soul. And a little PM Dawn, too. A Golden Age indeed.

19. Leona Lewis, "Bleeding Love"
It's certainly debatable whether Lewis will be the Mariah Carey for the new millennium, but the fact is, you could swap her for Mimi on this song, and it would remain exactly the same ... which is as big a testament to the British "X-Factor" champ as you can possible get. Where she goes from here is anybody's guess, though it will be hard for her to match the swooning mastery she pulled off on "Love." That the song was co-written by a dude who used to be on "Summerland" only makes Lewis' accomplishments on it all the more amazing.

18. She & Him, "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?"
Speaking of amazing, who knew albums involving actors could be any good? Dishy Zooey Deschanel pulls it off, thanks in no small part to her partner in crime, indie master M. WardM. Ward. "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" is full of his trademark retro crackle and shine — not to mention twangy guitar and twinkly piano — but it's Deschanel's big, bell-clear vocals (and that "uh-huh!") that make this one truly special.

17. Lykke Li, "I'm Good, I'm Gone"
A slinky, sexy model of 21st-century pop (and don't dare overanalyze it as anything but, or the notoriously prickly Li might kill you) that could double as a Lego sculpture, if only because it's built up of so many individual parts — handclaps, foot stomps, piano, vibraphone, bells, treated vocals, wood blocks — that work so much better as a whole. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to duck the chair Lykke just chucked at my head.

16. Tyga, "Coconut Juice"
I am a 13-year-old girl ... one who loves tropical drinks, apparently. Perhaps the year's dumbest, most unabashed bit of hyper-color hip-hop (which is saying something), I drank deeply from Tyga's cup and have been riding the sugar rush every since. Ay-ay-ay, indeed.

15. Death Cab for Cutie, "Grapevine Fires"
"I Will Possess Your Heart" might have gotten all the shine — and with its eight-minute running time, why wouldn't it? — but the best song on Death Cab's really great Narrow Stairs was unquestionably "Fires," a four-minute rumination on life and death that shines a candle on Ben Gibbard's achingly pretty vocals and narrative skill. On the surface, it's about watching the California hills burn in the distance, but there's really so much more going on here ... and that the song ends on an incomplete thought ("The firemen worked in double shifts/ With prayers for rain on their lips/ And they knew it was only a matter of time") only makes the sentiments contained within all the more jarring.

14. MGMT, "Kids"
Blissed-out electro-pop from a couple of buzzed-in Brooklyn neo-hippies. There is much to snicker at here (chiefly Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser's outfits), but listen to the gnarled synths and baroque breakdown, and tell me if there's any way you can deny this song.

13. Sigur Rós, "Inní mér syngur vitleysingur"
Joyous noise from an Icelandic quartet never known for being especially, well, joyous. On this year's Med sud í eyrum vid spilum endalaust (try saying that five times fast), Sigur Rós shifted away from making glacial-paced soundscapes and just got happy, and "Inní mér syngur vitleysingur" (which, translated from Icelandic, means "within me a lunatic sings") is them at their most happy. Just because you don't know what they're saying doesn't mean you shouldn't still listen.

12. Santogold, "L.E.S. Artistes"
The year's best Tegan and Sara song not performed by Tegan and/or Sara.

11. The Hold Steady, "Stay Positive"
If you were to take everything people love (or, alternately, hate) about the Hold Steady and condense it into three minutes, "Stay Positive" would be the end result. Lead singer Craig Finn's insular, nostalgic lyrics (and his, uh, "singing voice"), the blaring organ, the guitar solo, the fact that this song is best listening to at top volume, with your arm around your best friend and a beer thrust skyward — this truly is maximum Hold Steady. Which is to say that it's incredible and awesome and uplifting and, most importantly, unashamed to be any of those things. For better or worse. Mostly the former though.

10. Kid Rock, "All Summer Long"
When you take two songs that are already awesome (Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London" and Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama"), mash 'em together, and throw in lyrics about even more awesome things like babes and booze and a lake in Northern Michigan, what do you get? The unquestionable champion of this year's Summer Jam sweepstakes, and perhaps the most undeniable song released in 2008. "All Summer Long" wasn't so much of a tune as it was a gigantic middle finger from Rock himself, extended directly at the music-industry suits and radio programmers who gave him a million reasons why the song wouldn't be a hit. There is nothing that's not beyond dumb about the song — from its content to its (anti) marketing campaign — all which probably explains its massive success and its unfettered charm. Actually, that definitely explains it. And Kid Rock too.

9. Portishead, "Machine Gun"
Deceptively — and destructively — simple, "Machine Gun" is little more than Beth Gibbons' aching voice, some hammering drums and a spooky synthesizer. And sometimes, that's all you need. There wasn't a more haunting song released this year, and it makes me anxious to hear just what Portishead do next ... even if it takes a decade for them to make that decision.

8. The Teenagers, "Homecoming"
A cheeky bit of French synth-pop about every European male's favorite summer activity: seducing gullible American girls backpacking their way across the continent. Sure, this song is a lot of bad things — cruel, dirty, probably misogynistic — but it's also razor-sharp, downright hilarious and incredibly catchy. Plus, if you've ever wondered what Pulp would sound like if Jarvis Cocker were an effeminate, foul-mouthed slip of a Frenchman, well ... here you go.

7. Kanye West, "Love Lockdown"
The bravest move made by a mega-star in years (seriously, would Britney, Madonna or even 50 ever try anything like this?), "Love Lockdown" is a testament to both Kanye's artistry and his ego. That he ditched the rapping is either a blessing or a curse, depending on which side of the fence you're on, as is his obsession with '80s synthesizer sheen, but there's no denying the fact that West is taking a risk here, and regardless of the end result, he should be commended for that. He may lose tons of "street" cred, but he's gained new legions of fans, and — to me and plenty of others — he suddenly got a whole lot more intriguing. And, oh, those drums.

6. Katy Perry, "I Kissed a Girl"
If you are a music nerd, you no doubt pick up on the Gary Glitter stomp, the new-wave-y beat, the not-so-subtle vocal flourishes employed by producer Dr. Luke and the fact that there's already a Jill Sobule song with the same name. If you are a drunken frat dude, you no doubt pick up on the fact that — holy sh--, dude, she kissed a girl! And she liked it! WOOOOOO! If you are a girl in a bar in Long Island, perhaps you even kiss a girl standing next to you while hundreds of those drunken frat dudes cheered you on. The greatest of songs bring us all together.

5. No Age, "Eraser"
By the time most of the mainstream media (ahem, me) pick up on a trend/scene, chances are that trend/scene is already dead and buried. I am not sure if that's the case with the lo-fi movement surrounding Los Angeles' anti-club the Smell and its most prominent progeny, No Age ... nor am I sure whether that particularly even matters in this instance. "Eraser" is great on so many levels — the strummy psych guitars, the wall of white noise, the hiss, the explosions — that whether you consider it a clarion call or a funeral dirge, it's somehow fitting either way.

4. Estelle (featuring Kanye West), "American Boy"
The most effortlessly effervescent song of 2008, a bit of sunny R&B so good it makes me reconsider my ill will toward Will.I.Am, who produced it (and that's saying something). Estelle's vocals pop and bubble, and Kanye contributes a clever verse of his own, and the end result is pop perfection. Though, a word to English girls: Most American boys are jerks.

3. Deerhunter, "Nothing Ever Happened"
Bradford Cox and company released a pair of gauzy, atmospheric long-players in 2008, both of which seemed to positively hum with potential ... but at no point did they come close to matching the knee-buckling beauty and driving urgency of "Nothing Ever Happened," which might just be the best thing they've ever done (you know, until they do something better in 2009). The final two minutes — a locomotive drive of bass, drums and guitars that steams headlong into the ether — raise goose bumps on my arm, and the winging guitar solo that finally unspools the song is undoubtedly my favorite musical moment of the year.

2. Beyoncé, "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)"
My favorite thing about Beyoncé has always been that despite the fact that she is well-manicured and coached to within an inch of her life, there is roughly a 50 percent chance that she is also a complete and total lunatic. I cannot explain why this is ... though, as Exhibit A, please allow me to present this song, which sounds like what would happen if the Supremes cut a track while someone was playing "Frogger" in the background (and I mean this in the best possible way). "Single Ladies" is hyperactive and supercharged in ways I never thought possible. It's epic and sexy and even a bit sad (because, you know, he didn't put a ring on it), and it manages to out-crazy even "Ring the Alarm" (thanks mostly to B's shout-out to Buzz Lightyear three-quarters of the way through). I love this song unapologetically, in reasons I am probably not doing a very good job of conveying. All I know is that there is absolutely zero chance Beyoncé ever releases a single like this ever again, so, you know, enjoy it while you can.

1. Lil Wayne, "A Milli"
I give.

• Today's Headlines: Britney, T.I. & More
• The Best Songs of 2008?

• Lil Wayne
• Beyoncé
• Jay-Z
• Kanye West
• Estelle

Photo: MTV News

• Gnarls Barkley
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My Morning Jacket performs at SxSW on Thursday
Photo: Tim Mosenfelder/ Getty Images

AUSTIN, Texas — In life, there are few sure things. At South by Southwest, there are even fewer. Still, this one was about as sure as sure could get: My Morning Jacket — the nation's leading purveyors of bearded, multifaceted, critically adored, blog-approved rock — were taking their show down to Austin on Thursday night, to the music festival that has become practically synonymous with dudes with beards, rock critics and bloggers. And they were going to be unveiling a batch of songs from their hotly anticipated new album, Evil Urges. Oh, and Yo La Tengo was opening for them.

Yeah, it was pretty safe to say that this show was going to be a big one. From the venue — the cavernous Austin Music Hall, which, though recently renovated, still resembles an authentic Texas honky-tonk (albeit a ginormous one) — to the expectations surging through the thoroughly amped (and vocal) crowd, the show was as huge as you could possibly get at SXSW, rivaling the open-aired, free-wheeling spirit usually associated with fests like Bonnaroo or Coachella. Clearly, only My Morning Jacket could pull this off.

(Check out photos from other great South by Southwest '08 shows here.)

Throughout the course of the nearly near two-hour show, MMJ reared back, summoned up voluminous waves of sound, tossed around guitar solos with reckless abandon, stretched songs (and time signatures) to the breaking point, and squealed and echoed in their own, completely unclassifiable way. But on this night — or most others, as any true Jacket fan can attest — they also drew amazing power from the notes they didn't play, bringing volume to even the most quiet and spacey moments in their set, a strength particularly apparent in those aforementioned new songs.

Taking the stage under the veil of purple light and wisps of fog (organizers clearly blew their entire fog-machine budget on this show), the band launched headlong into the title track from Evil Urges, a twisting and often-ominous number that showcased the soulful side of frontman Jim James' (oft-derided) voice and featured a surprising middle section that was all hard-charging chords and James' wheedling guitar lines.

That was followed by "Off the Record" and "Gideon" from their 2005 album, Z, that packed a wallop but also displayed the power of "loud-quiet-loud" syncopation. Then, it was time for another new song, "Highly Suspicious," which commenced with James pushing his voice to previously unheard-of heights (seriously, it sounded like he could hurt himself), but was quickly tossed into a head-whirling mix of Roboto vocal effects, crunching chords and a driving, machine-like back-end that had kids in the audience doing that hippie shake thing.

There were more songs from Z (a shimmering "Worldless Chorus," a raucous "What a Wonderful Man") and even older fare (a truly massive "One Big Holiday," an excellent take on "The Way He Sings"), but really, the songs from Urges got top billing on this night, and justifiably so.

"I'm Amazed" was a take on a traditional country rocker run through the wringer, thanks to some nifty guitar interplay between James and multi-instrumentalist Carl Broemel. "Thank You Too" was a pretty, mellow number that showed off a newfound sensitive side. "Sec Walkin' " was a twisty, dreamy number, buoyed by Broemel's pedal steel and featuring lyrics about traffic lights, and most noticeably, "Touch Me I'm Going To Scream Part 2," with which MMJ closed their set, featured James strumming away on an Omnichord and some genuinely heart-quickening work by the rhythm section.

As "Touch Me" ended with a yelp from James, MMJ departed. But, in keeping with the whole "massive" theme of the night, they quickly returned to tear though a four-song encore (an unheard of thing at SXSW), before practically having to be dragged off the stage by Music Hall employees, to loud cheers from those still standing after a near two-hours of rock topography.

Much like R.E.M. on Wednesday night, My Morning Jacket's show was great primarily because it didn't feel like your typical SXSW showcase in any way, shape or form. It was loud, soft, loose and tight, often at the same time. And you get the feeling that unlike most bands spending the week in Austin, if they had the opportunity, MMJ would still be playing as you read this. For real.

Other Highlights From a Terrific Thursday in Austin, From Our Intrepid (and Tired) MTV News Team

John Norris:

I began my day with a sidewalk encounter with the name that, let's be honest, is on more lips than any other this SXSW '08: Vampire Weekend. Surely it must be just a tad embarrassing for them to come to Austin this week and mix it up with the rank and file, while riding a ridiculous wave of national attention, the cover of a little magazine called Spin and an appearance on a little show called "Saturday Night Live." So what do they do? They stick to the VW party line: This is not gonna change who we are or what we do; we can't control it, and we're just happy to be here. Vampire Weekend are doing everything in overdrive, and I think they are officially post-caring about the haters. Besides, hating on them is frankly pointless, they made a great great pop record. More power to 'em. (Read more about Vampire Weekend in the Newsroom Blog.)

Power? Dean and Randy of No Age embody that every time they take the stage, even when playing in the afternoon sun of an outdoor show sponsored by Rhapsody. I watched from a roof patio as L.A.'s noise-art duo powered through Weirdo Rippers favorites, as well as songs from the upcoming album, Nouns, including "Eraser" and the amazing "Teen Creeps."

My producer, Christopher "CJ" Smith, recently got me into Tyvek, a band of lo-fi Midwesterners that he was truly excited to see down here at SXSW, and once again his faith was well placed. After an alleyway interview, in which they explained their dedication to the basic, no-nonsense approach of what some call lo-fi, we watched them tear through a set at Beerland, one squall of ragged, raw rock after another in songs like "Give It Up" and "Stand and Fight."

Keeping it Midwest, why, here are Psychedelic Horsesh--. Every now and then, you just want to talk to a band that calls it as they see it, and PH deliver. Standing in the middle of Sixth Street, shoulder-to-shoulder with drunken fools at 11 p.m., PH opined on how this year's SXSW compares to last year's (answer: They haven't taken any illegal substances with Thurston Moore this year, something they say is necessary to appreciate "the vast majority" of bands at the festival) and spoke about the message behind their song "New Wave Hippies" and the line ("It's about Yeasayer. Bands like that."). Whoa.

And finally, late Thursday night, it seemed that a fair percentage of Austin was either inside — or outside trying to get in — a large, gray cinderblock warehouse at Third and San Jacinto. The occasion? Playboy's "Rock the Rabbit" party, apparently the must-attend event of the night. Was it the bill that featured, among others, French hipster superstar electroniques Justice and Brooklyn's headband-wearing duo MGMT? Maybe. But I'm gonna guess that number one draw was the Bunnies. I had a chat with one named Hiromi, who told me that she was a big MGMT fan and that the glorious single "Time to Pretend" (with its lyrics, "Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives") was on her MySpace page. Good choice, Hiromi.

James Montgomery:

Aside from MMJ, I really liked Islands' set at the Cedar Street Courtyard, and not just because I'm a big fan of dudes in pancake makeup, dueling Asian violinists and prog-rock songs about mythological appendages (though all of those things were part of the magic). No, basically, I've been an unapologetic shill for Islands' mastermind Nick Diamonds (he was the one in the pancake makeup on Thursday night) ever since his days in the much-missed bizarre pop outfit Unicorns. The stuff he's doing with Islands is much, much different — strings, Calypso leanings, a heavy dose of goofy mysticism, a whole lot of prog — but it's also pretty great. They played a bunch of songs off their upcoming Arm's Way album, and with their violin stabs, strange, herky-jerky movements, overall length and subject matter (it's a concept album ... about a magical arm), they're all guaranteed to annoy about 98 percent of the American public.

Also: Motörhead at Stubb's, because they're Motörhead and Lemmy will kill you. Eating breakfast at Guero's. Eating lunch at Iron Works BBQ. Talking to the genuinely good dudes from Tapes 'n Tapes about their new album, Walk It Off. Yo La Tengo, opening for MMJ. Going to sleep before 4 a.m. Oh, wait.

Gil Kaufman:

If you're me at SXSW, when you're not trying to bypass a block-long line by dropping a half dozen names until the right one gets you waved into some inner sanctum of rock, you're in search of that one great discovery. Every year, there's one band that transcends the hype and really does make you stop and take a long, serious listen. Luckily for me, that band was the very first one I saw on Thursday.

It was hard to take your eyes, or ears, off of indie electronica rock duo the Ting Tings, a kind of White Stripes in reverse, with frontwoman/guitarist/percussionist Katie White ruling the stage, backed by drummer Jules De Martino. Mixing up the Go! Team's dance beats and the Gossip's energy with punk guitars and sometimes rappy vocals, the Tings immediately won over the crowd with such English hits as the punchy "That's Not My Name." Remember the name because you're sure to hear it again.

Speaking of names, one of the most important decisions a band makes, London retro-rockers Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong should really have spent a bit more time on theirs. That being said, the band's disheveled "Panic at the Thrift Store" look and their high-energy British Invasion-style performance were compelling. Lean, wearing the tightest trousers in a city awash with them, looked like a tottering doe as he shimmied across the stage in his high-heeled boots and waved his spider-like arms in wide circles during songs like the Beatles-esque "Where Do You Go."

As unthreatening as the Jang Jongs were in their capes and double-breasted three-quarter length jackets, Virginia hip-hop duo the Clipse made up for that softness with a stripped-down, grinding afternoon set heavy on audience favorites like "Momma I'm So Sorry" and "Keys Open Doors." They also reclaimed the Baby song "What Happened to That Boy," saying they wrote it in the first place.

Wearing a gigantic, gleaming Re-Up Gang Records medallion, it wasn't long before Malice peeled off his sweatshirt and stalked the stage in a sweat-drenched white T, inviting Re-Up crew member Ab Liva up to give a hand. Liva, a mountain of a man with a low bass rumble of a voice that's almost as intimidating as his imposing stature, traded verses with Pusha T and Malice on the grimy street tale "Cot Damn" as the audience bounced along and a fragrant smell wafted up to the stage, prompting Malice to proclaim, "It smells good out there."

The afternoon also brought the star-studded Lou Reed tribute — where the Velvet Underground frontman turned the tables on looming photographers — and an equally star-heavy showcase for the Iraq-war documentary "Body of War," paving the way for an evening of chaos. It began with the band that seems to be stalking me at every SXSW, Toronto hard-core punks F---ed Up. Every year, it seems, I find myself face to face with 300-plus pound singer Pink Eyes, who invariably charges, sweaty and shirtless into me and drops me to the ground. At least he didn't pile drive me on the concrete floor like the guy next to me. I waited around for a blitzkrieg of punk thrash from prolific Memphis-based DIY auteur Jay Reatard, who didn't disappoint with a tight set of rapid fire blasts of fury with names like "See/Saw" and "Screaming Hand."

We're all over the bands, BBQ and hipster parties at SXSW '08. Check out the MTV Newsroom Blog and You R Here for more.

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A Place to Bury Strangers' Oliver Ackermann
Photo: MTV News

It might seem strange to start off a piece on the thriving rock scene in Brooklyn, New York, with a quote from Down South, but Bradford Cox, frontman for Atlanta psych-punk act Deerhunter, described a fitting modus operandi in a recent interview with Rhapsody. "The one thing I've always been devoted to is my personal concept of what punk rock is," he said. "[Which is] doing away with self-expectations, worrying about audience expectations, worrying about what anybody's gonna make of anything, and just allowing things to exist. ... It can be anything. It's just freedom — a liberation."

And it's a liberating feeling setting foot into DIY shows — which are often smoke-filled, cheap-booze-fueled, poorly lit loft events with a small cover — these days in Brooklyn, where decidedly left-of-center bands play to small audiences of attentive music lovers. There you'll find the successors of the early '00s New York scene driven by Interpol, the Strokes and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

"I think people are just trying to do their own thing and make it unique," said frontman Oliver Ackermann of garage/shoegaze outfit A Place to Bury Strangers. "And, in that way, that kind of lumps things together. People are trying to break boundaries, and that [unites them with] the same sort of boundary-breaking that someone else is doing. If you see a band that's doing something really unique, it's gonna plant a seed in your head: Like, 'Wow that was really cool — I wish we were doing something like that.' "

Having said that, categorizing it as a "scene" is something most of the bands involved want to stay away from. While they might influence each other and share ideas, each has been self-defined by its parts and players. After all, the one thing that each of these bands have in common is their drive for individuality and self-creation.

At these DIY shows, that creativity is simmering under the watchful eye of promoters like Todd "Todd P" Patrick. He's responsible for many of the shows taking place in warehouses, lofts, art galleries and other places, pairing his favorite bands (and his favorite bands' favorite bands) from all over the country. Take Todd P's April show at the 100-or-so-capacity Silent Barn in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Bushwick with a mega-bill of Atlanta's aforementioned Deerhunter, Pittsburgh's Black Moth Super Rainbow, and Brooklyn's Awesome Color and Dirty Projectors as a prime example of the cross-pollination uniting Brooklyn's scene with that of other scenes throughout the continent.

"Todd came to New York and brought this aesthetic [that] came from the original DIY American-underground vibe of, 'F--- this, we can do it ourselves.' We're not represented by MTV and all those things. We're gonna start our own network of people doing their own sh-- and expressing themselves. We don't need money; we don't need magazines; we just need our imagination. And a vibe as free as that ... It's hard to bring into New York and have it still make sense because things are so competitive, but Todd is an amazing figure because he figured out how to do that," said Dave Longstreth of the Dirty Projectors, who are an experimental pop-rock group.

"When I first got here, everyone was just doing disco-post-punk stuff," said Patrick, who arrived in New York from Seattle in 2002. "And that's awesome — but it definitely had its time and its place. And now you see people going in lot more experimental directions. One of my favorite things about Brooklyn right now is that there isn't [one] sound: It's like lots of different bands doing lots of different things and they're all coming at it from really diverse backgrounds and ideas and influences."

An interesting dichotomy exists for a band like the collective MGMT (who will be on a national tour with fellow Brooklynites Yeasayer this and next month). Although the Brooklyn scene is largely independent, MGMT are signed to a major label (Columbia Records) and are being overseen by the likes of new label head Rick Rubin and producer Dave Fridmann, who has worked with the Flaming Lips and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. However, most of their Brooklyn brethren shy away from that route.

"The major labels are sharks — trying to steal your money, trying to steal your merchandising," said Chris Keating, lead singer of the self-described "Middle Eastern-psych-pop-snap-gospel" outfit Yeasayer (originally from Baltimore but now Brooklyn-based), referring to the "360 deals" major labels have been trumpeting as a new business model.

So while they may not necessarily be united in terms of sound or business practices, this Brooklyn scene-that-insists-it's-not-a-scene — which also includes Grizzly Bear, the Muggabears and many others — is producing some of the most vibrant rock to be found in this country.

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