1. Paranoid Android
I remember hitting play on *OK Computer* and this track just unfolding, a digital epic before "epic" became a meaningless marketing term. It's got that guitar-driven angst, sure, but also these weird, almost glitched-out shifts. It felt like the soundtrack to every anxiety you had about the new millennium, a sprawling, art-rock manifesto that still feels unsettlingly prescient. And that solo? Still legendary.
2. Teardrop
Liz Fraser's voice, man. It just hangs there, ghostly and perfect, over that instantly recognizable harpsichord loop. Massive Attack crafted something so deeply atmospheric, so undeniably trip-hop, it became the benchmark. This track wasn't just music; it was a mood, a late-night drive through a city that felt both familiar and utterly alien. It proved electronic music could be profoundly human and heartbreaking.
3. Candyass
Orgy was peak late-90s digital-industrial swagger, a band that embraced the internet's aesthetic before many understood it. This album opener, with its sharp synths and distorted guitars, felt like the soundtrack to a cyber-goth rave in a forgotten server room. It might seem a bit dated to some now, but back then, it was gloriously edgy, a defiant middle finger to rock purity, drenched in neon and code.
4. Fatal words lie with me
mewithoutYou always hit different. Their early stuff, like this, had such raw, poetic intensity. It wasn't just post-hardcore; it was a spoken-word sermon delivered over angular guitar riffs and a rhythm section that felt like it was constantly on the verge of collapse. This track captures that intellectual, almost frantic energy, a beautifully chaotic blend that was endlessly fascinating and challenging.
5. There Goes the Fear - Single
Doves just had that knack for building these expansive, melancholic anthems. This single, especially, felt like it captured the hopeful, yet slightly wistful, spirit of the early 2000s indie scene. It was Britpop's emotional maturity, blended with a post-rock sense of scale. You could almost feel the sun coming up after a long night, a perfect soundtrack for those uncertain, emerging days.
6. One Armed Scissor
This track was a pure, unadulterated assault. At The Drive-In were just a hurricane of angular riffs, spastic vocals, and a rhythm section that sounded like it was playing on five different time signatures simultaneously. It was math rock's intensity married to post-hardcore's fury, all delivered with an urgency that felt genuinely dangerous. Every listen still feels like a punch to the gut in the best possible way.
7. Dayvan Cowboy
Boards of Canada were, and still are, masters of atmosphere. This track feels like a half-remembered dream from a lost VHS tape, full of hazy analog synths and warped samples. It’s IDM at its most evocative, a journey through a digital pastoral landscape. It evokes such a powerful sense of retro-futuristic nostalgia, a feeling of innocent wonder that still resonates, decades after its first transmission.
8. Glory Box
Portishead always had this incredible ability to be both utterly devastating and impossibly cool. Beth Gibbons' voice over that hypnotic, almost sinister beat is just iconic. It’s trip-hop at its most potent, a dark, smoky, and utterly captivating experience. This track felt like the sound of secrets being whispered in a dimly lit room, a classic that never loses its melancholic grip.
9. your hand in mine
Explosions in the Sky just *do* something to you with their music. This track, in particular, is a masterclass in emotional build-up, completely instrumental, yet it tells a more profound story than most vocal tracks. It’s post-rock at its most expansive and heartfelt, a soundtrack to quiet contemplation and vast, open spaces. It proves that sometimes, words are utterly superfluous.
![1989 (Taylor's Version) [Deluxe]](https://i.scdn.co/image/ab67616d0000b273dc2bacae1dca83d26e2b1949)
10. 1989 (Taylor's Version) [Deluxe]
Okay, so this isn't exactly a 90s/00s artifact, but its existence is pure digital-era phenomenon. It's a re-recording, a statement on artistic ownership in the streaming age. While the original *1989* captured a specific pop zeitgeist, this version, arriving years later, becomes a meta-commentary. It’s less about the initial sonic blast and more about the ongoing digital legacy and reclamation.
11. Brown Paper Bag (Maxi)
Roni Size and Reprazent just blew the doors off with this one. It's pure, unadulterated drum and bass, but with this incredible musicality and depth. The "Maxi" version, especially, felt like a journey, a complex tapestry of breakbeats, basslines, and jazzy flourishes. It wasn’t just rave music; it was intricate, intelligent electronic artistry that still slaps harder than most anything today.
