Antonio Topete
I’ve always loved lists. For me, seeing music critics publish their end of year lists every November and December feels like a holiday. For many others, the idea of ranking art, be it music, film, literature, or any other creative medium, is a futile exercise of subjectivity. And while I would agree reaching a definite answer of which album is the best is not possible, nor necessarily meaningful, I believe the discussions generated from the controversy of lists are extraordinarily valuable. Art, and music especially, is so deeply connected with people’s emotions, and their sense of aesthetic and style, that these discussions are often a passionate debate. I’ve always found that in arguing with my friends over whether one album was better than the other, I’ve been forced to understand why I enjoy different pieces of music, for every differing reason, and sometimes every reason at once. To me, verbalizing why I love something deepens my love for it, and lists have always gone hand in hand with verbalizing this love.
Many years ago, rather arbitrarily, I devised my own system for listing my favorite movies, but have since used it for pretty much everything I enjoy, including music. This system is simply called “The Top Twenty”, and, as the name suggests, is a list of my favorite 20 albums. The list is divided into two tiers, with 15 albums unranked in the “Top Twenty” tier, and 5 albums unranked in the superior “Top Five” tier. It’s very basic, but it accomplishes a few things very well. Limiting the total number to 20 is extremely constraining and requires selectivity, thinking long and hard about what deserves to be on the list. Secondly, I find the unranked two-tier system easier to be happy with than a list with hard placements. The way you feel about an album in the moment can fluctuate so much based on your mood, especially when thinking about two albums with big stylistic differences. I know that if I made a ranked list of my albums, I would constantly be questioning whether number 12 is actually better than 13, but with unranked tiers, I can just look at the group of albums and say “these are my favorites, and I like these 5 the best.”
When I first made my Top Twenty list of albums, it was rather easy to do. There were albums that I really enjoyed, there were some that were special to me because of memories of listening to them. My creation of the list also marked the beginning of my conscious and dedicated exploration of music, both trying to keep up with what was new, as well as diving into classic albums of the past. Since then, about three years ago, I’ve probably listened to over a thousand new albums, and as time went on, my Top Twenty changed. Albums I thought I would never let slip from my list were replaced, and as my relationship with music changed, so did the list. Albums have appeared, moved up to the Top Five, moved back down, and disappeared. Of the 20 albums in my original list, only 3 remain in the list at all. For me, this change is always a bit painful. When I let an album go from the list, I can’t help but feel like I’m letting go of a little part of me, or like I’m turning my back on an old friend. But the pain and difficulty that comes with making and changing the list is exactly why I appreciate it so much. Making hard decisions forces intense reflection, and if you love music, you owe it to yourself to reflect on why you love the music that you do.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not constantly thinking about albums walking the plank or coming on board when I listen to them; simply listening and enjoying an album is just as important an experience as meditating on what makes it so special. But when thinking about an album in relation to the list, I find that every listen gives new appreciation for something, even if it is just a detail in one song: A line in the lyrics that you hadn’t noticed before, the way an instrument weaves through the song in the background, the reprise of a melody from another track. At the end of the day, a really unique appreciation for your favorite albums builds over time. There’s something deeply gratifying about being able to concretely say what you like about something, or being able to discuss how albums changed your outlook on music, or pointing out the exact moment of a song that elevates it to a new level of appreciation.
The Top Twenty is not the only way to develop a deeper love for your favorite albums, nor is it the only way to create a list, but making and maintaining my Top Twenty has been a cornerstone of my enjoyment of music in recent years, and getting friends to engage in this activity with me has been equally as fruitful. Seeing an album enter a friend’s Top Twenty has sparked great discussions about what they see in music that I may not appreciate as much, or am not familiar with. The high watermark of “Top Twenty”, or even more so, “Top Five” will always convince me to give an album a try when it comes from a friend, because I know how hard it is to put something in that list. And as much as I love understanding why I enjoy my favorites so much, seeing my friends and family take part in the discussion of the music that matters to them is perhaps the best consequence of the lists.
I don’t expect you to like lists the same way I do, but I’d invite you to try The Top Twenty out, at least once. Maybe not even with music, but any medium you love; books, movies, tv shows, games. And I’d invite you to ask someone you care about to do the same. Ask them about their list, tell them about yours, and listen to each other, it was probably painful for both of you.
Listening Now 