TCB

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THE NOT-SO-GAY NAUGHTIES

Still lacking a definitive nickname, the 2000s are threatening to become the first decade where methods of obtaining and listening to music drew more attention than the music itself. Don't blame the musicians, who have charted the double-ohs' highs and lows rather nicely. A somewhat belated Memorial Day Top 30.

KID ROCK & SHERYL CROW, "Picture": Carpetbagging country duo comes up huge bemoaning the perils of touring.

ANDREW WK, "Party Hard": Boisterous schlock-metal confronts century's most compelling mystery: After the party, what then?

AVRIL LAVIGNE, "My Happy Ending": Canadian waif reveals unanticipated gravitas; sk8er bois struggle to keep up.

WILLIE NELSON, "Cowboys Are Frequently, Secretly (Fond of Each Other)": The Brokeback set gets its own "Bloody Mary Morning"; middle America barely notices.

TV ON THE RADIO, "Staring at the Sun": Brooklyn bizarro rockers ditch navel-gazing for greasy sweatshop groove, defiant optimism.

BOB DYLAN, "Lonesome Day Blues": Elder statesman's grinding apocalyptic poem rings even truer after Katrina.

R. KELLY, "Ignition (Remix)": Before getting trapped in the closet, Kelly has cars, ladies purring like sleeping tigers.

MISSY ELLIOT, "Work It": Miss E flips Run-DMC's script, backward-masks a hip-hop classic.

SOCIAL DISTORTION, "Reach for the Sky": Put your hands where we can see them; the NSA already can.

EMINEM, "Without Me": It's hard out here for a pimp, especially one on TV all the time.

FRANZ FERDINAND, "Take Me Out": Rocking the Bloc Party with disco precision and an itchy trigger finger.

DRIVE-BY TRUCKERS, "Carl Perkins' Cadillac": Explains Sam Phillips' genius and Elvis' insecurity in one fell swoop.

50 CENT, "In Da Club": Even conscienceless, belligerent thugs need to relax.

JIMMY EAT WORLD, "Bleed American": Bush's Mesopotamian folly predicted with Hüsker Dü volume and speed.

COLDPLAY, "The Scientist": Stem-cell research disguised as communal heart transplant.

LIL JON & THE EASTSIDE BOYZ, "Get Low": Strip-club synths detonate coastal rap's remaining pretensions of superiority.

GRETCHEN WILSON, "Redneck Woman": Illinois barmaid shoots Jack Daniels, rejuvenates battered Southern pride.

THE KILLERS, "All These Things That I've Done": Vegas showboys tire of Morrissey, find unlikely inspiration in gospel.

LORETTA LYNN, "Van Lear Rose": Honky-tonk queen borrows Jack White's summer squall to stand up for traditional values.

INTERPOL, "PDA": Black-clad clairvoyants erase distance between sexy and creepy, NYC and Manchester, 1979 and 2002.

SPOON, "Small Stakes": Austin underachievers reach critical mass with stuttery ode to diminished expectations.

SNOOP DOGG, "Drop It Like It's Hot": Crip-walking on sunshine: Snoop's icy blood can withstand even global warming.

ARCADE FIRE, "Rebellion (Lies)": Hiding under the covers as civil disobedience, until strings sound call to arms. Cf. Editors, "Munich."

DIXIE CHICKS, "Travelin' Soldier": Best song about war in years is all but forgotten just as the real one starts. Cf. Bright Eyes, "When the President Talks to God."

WILCO, "Ashes of American Flags": ATMs offer no more, but no less, counsel than preachers or pundits. Moral bankruptcy laid bare.

KANYE WEST, "Gold Digger": Sexual politics explained down to the Geico policy; Jamie Foxx's Ray Charles schtick wasn't annoying ... yet.

THE WHITE STRIPES, "Seven Nation Army": Jack juggles militarism and pacifism; Meg warms up for Get Behind Me Satan.

GREEN DAY, "Holiday": Might have tipped the election if everyone who bought the album bothered to vote. Who's the American Idiot now?

JOHNNY CASH, "Hurt": Craggy icon turns junkie lament into national elegy. What have we become?

U2, "Vertigo": Dizzying trip down the rabbit hole proves even Bono doesn't have all the answers. Cf. Shakira, "Don't Bother."