2000s Indie Albums With Songs Worth Coming Back To

The Strokes (2001) On “Someday,” the two guitars pass little pieces of the tune back and forth while Julian Casablancas sings as though he’s telling you about the night after it’s over. Start there for the ease that makes these short songs worth coming back to. The more closely you listen, the more you hear each part keeping out of the other’s way.

Modest Mouse (2000) “3rd Planet” opens with a guitar figure you can settle into before Isaac Brock starts singing about a world coming apart. The sounds around him grow stranger, yet the guitar still gives you something to return to. That balance makes a good way into an album that can go from a small, private voice to something much larger in a few bars.

Wilco (2002) The little turn in Jeff Tweedy’s voice at the start of “Jesus, Etc.” is worth listening to twice. The strings almost finish the thought for him. In an album full of voices and instruments coming through static, this song makes the writing easy to hear before you move on to the more fractured arrangements.

The Shins (2001) “Caring Is Creepy” has a warm keyboard wash, a busy guitar part, and a melody that seems to take a slightly different route every time it turns. The singing has an air of secrecy even when the tune is easy to remember. Start here if you want the bright surface and the uneasy edge of the Shins in the same song.

The Microphones (2001) “I Want Wind to Blow” begins with acoustic guitars that seem to trip over each other just enough to stay interesting. Hold on to their pattern when the noise comes in. The contrast makes this a good first stop on an album that can go from a barely raised voice to a wall of sound without losing its train of thought.

Interpol (2002) Put on “NYC” and follow the guitar answer that keeps recurring under Paul Banks’s voice. The pulse is patient enough that small changes in the playing make the song feel larger. It’s a good way into the record if the sharper, faster songs have always made Interpol sound more severe than you want.

The White Stripes (2001) The chords of “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” arrive in loud bursts around a lyric about wanting to be home. Start there to hear how little the White Stripes need to give a song both force and tenderness. The quiet space between the chords is part of what lets the words land.

Broken Social Scene (2002) On “Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl,” one phrase keeps returning while the instruments around it slowly change. Follow the strings when the words begin to blur into a rhythm of their own. The album has busier, louder songs, but this is the one that makes the band’s sense of scale easiest to hear.

The Postal Service (2003) “Such Great Heights” sounds like two people trying different ways of carrying a melody. The electronic figures keep chiming around the beat while Ben Gibbard sings directly enough to make the song feel like a message for one person. This is the album to reach for when you want the detail of electronic pop and the plainspoken writing of a small guitar record.

Rilo Kiley (2002) “The Good That Won’t Come Out” begins with Jenny Lewis singing about the things she can’t bring herself to say. As the song moves on, the percussion and electric instruments give that hesitation more weight. Try this one for the way the album lets a very plain sentence and a strange sound share the same thought.

Arcade Fire (2004) Start with “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels).” The image of a tunnel dug from one bedroom window to another does most of the work before the arrangement rises around it. Let the song get big in its own time. You’ll hear how the record earns its group singalongs through small, oddly specific stories.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs (2003) “Maps” gives the band’s restlessness somewhere tender to go. Nick Zinner’s guitar keeps coming back through Karen O’s stretches of silence, and the drums make the pauses feel charged. Try it first if you want to hear how a song can be exposed and still have the energy of the louder tracks beside it.

Death Cab for Cutie (2003) In “Title and Registration,” a search in the glove compartment turns up photographs and opens an old wound. The way the song gets there feels almost casual, which is what makes the turn work. Start there when you want to hear Ben Gibbard write about a breakup through the object that brings it back.

Bloc Party (2005) The guitars in “This Modern Love” start out clipped and close together. Give the song a little time and they open out around the vocal. The change in the sound is as persuasive as anything in the words, which makes this a good entry point if you like the way a band can tell part of the story without singing it.

Feist (2004) “Mushaboom” has a light step and a tune that makes a hoped-for home feel almost close enough to visit. Listen for how much character Feist gives the phrase endings without pushing the song any harder. The album moves among jazz, folk and pop, and that ease is a good way to hear how those sounds can belong together.

Sufjan Stevens (2005) Go straight to “Casimir Pulaski Day” if the size of the record feels like a lot. Stevens tells a story about illness and grief in plain details, with room around his voice for each one to register. Once you’ve heard what the smaller arrangements can do, try the busier songs and listen for the same care with individual lines.

The New Pornographers (2005) “The Bleeding Heart Show” takes its time getting to the part everybody can sing. The opening stays close to the voice, so the late group refrain feels like a room suddenly filling with people. Start there to hear the band’s knack for making a big hook feel earned.

Wolf Parade (2005) “I’ll Believe in Anything” starts with a keyboard figure you could pick out from across the room. The voice works hard against it, almost cracking as the song grows around it. This is for the days when a tidy version of the same melody would feel like it had left something important out.

Sleater-Kinney (2005) In “Jumpers,” a wiry guitar part has to keep its footing as the band gets louder. Listen for the moment the voices press in on each other. That push and pull gives the song its shape, so the playing can sound close to coming apart and still make every turn feel deliberate.

The Mountain Goats (2005) The piano and guitar in “This Year” give John Darnielle’s story the pace of a teenager already out the door. Start with how quickly he gets from an ordinary afternoon to the feeling that getting through the year is a feat in itself. The album’s directness is part of what makes its small scenes so hard to shake.

Arctic Monkeys (2006) The playing in “A Certain Romance” opens up into something almost affectionate while Alex Turner’s portrait of the people he knows stays sharp. Listen for the difference between the warmth of the guitar and the impatience in his voice. The album makes room for both attitudes toward the same place.

TV on the Radio (2006) On “Wolf Like Me,” the drums and guitars churn hard enough to make the track feel in danger of running ahead of itself. A quieter passage gives you a chance to hear just how clipped and rhythmic the singing is. Start here if you want the album’s layers without having to hunt for the song inside them.

The Decemberists (2005) “The Mariner’s Revenge Song” takes a long, improbable story and gives it a tune you can follow all the way through. Listen for the way the accordion keeps the next verse moving, even as Colin Meloy keeps piling on the plot. This is the album to try when you want the story to be part of the pleasure of hearing the song again.

Joanna Newsom (2006) Listen to the words about meteors in “Emily” before trying to take in all the strings. Newsom gives the distinction between things in the sky the tenderness of something learned from another person. The longer form lets the music follow that wandering train of thought. Give it a stretch when you can stay with the story.