50: Ellen Allien
"Trash Scapes"
[Bpitch Control]

Dance music might have been a driving force in 2003, but few artists took as many risks with it as Ellen Allien. In lead single "Trash Scapes", the Berlinette brings together factions of electro, glitch, EBM and industrial for a dark post-nuclear world portrait with dayglo highlights. Fractured beats and chopped-up lyrics set the stage for the cinematic chorus, when Allien's vocals coalesce with six-inch-thick guitars. Traces of Front Line Assembly's 80s digital noir might catch you off-guard, but this rogue DJ never spins out of control-- whatever miracle adhesive they sell overseas is working spectacularly. --Joshua Sharp

49: The Postal Service
"Such Great Heights"
[Sub Pop]

Death Cab for Cutie's Ben Gibbard and Dntel's Jimmy Tamborello have earned the 2003 crown for Indiedom's reigning odd couple: following through on the promise of 2001's one-off cut "(This Is) The Dream of Evan and Chan," the duo's full-length Give Up officially pitted Gibbard's soft, confessional coos against Tamborello's laptop sheen. With its lilting vocal line layered over punchy rhythms, lead single "Such Great Heights" saw Gibbard's plaintive whines backed up by Tamborello's digitalis, creating a loping ballad with an irresistible melodic hook-- a charming blend of honest introspection and upbeat pop futurism. --Amanda Petrusich

48: Nas
"I Can"
[Ill Will/Columbia]

Message songs usually go about as far as there are people who dig the message. In this case, a minimal pairing of beats and Beethoven powers Nas' self-help checklist of education, pride of heritage and persistence. And like the best message songs, the music is the real persuader: children's chorus, one-finger classical piano and a simple, modest beat combine to form the kind of track kids might actually come up with. For some people, "I Can" was a little too childlike, but it's hard to be hard when you're promising "you can host the TV like Oprah Winfrey." Anyway, the little girls understand. --Dominique Leone

47: Nas
"Made You Look"
[Ill Will/Columbia]

After nearly a decade of trying to live up to his classic Illmatic, 2003 saw a sharper Nas striking hard on God's Son. The album's first single, "Made You Look", was his defiant reclamation: only a year before, "You're a slave to a page in my rhymebook" would have been an absurd and empty claim coming from the Brooklyn-based emcee. As a chorus taunts Nas with playground chants, he instinctively fights back, defending his hip-hop legitimacy with fearless production and lines like, "You all appointed me to bring rap justice but I ain't 5-0," and the hilarious, "Don't say my car's topless, say the titties is out." Pass the fifth, he's back in the game. -- Nick Sylvester

46: Freeway [ft. Jay-Z & Beanie Sigel]
"What We Do"
[Rocafella]

With the retirement of Jay-Z, Freeway moves to the heart of the Rocafella order-- and between his frizzy beard and gruff vocals, it's obvious that the curse of the Billy Goat doesn't exist in Philadelphia. On "What We Do", producer Just Blaze tosses regal-soul rocks at the Timba/Neptunes throne and makes more than a few dents, while Freeway explains why he acts the motherfuckin' fool in a sing-song rasp-- the Brothers Grimm to Nelly's Richard Scary nursery rhymes. Add Jay's best guest spot of the year and B Si in the third lane and it's a tragedy these three didn't cross over that bridge to platinum sales. --Scott Plagenhoef

45: Snoop Dogg [ft. Pharrell Williams & Uncle Charlie Watson]
"Beautiful"
[Priority]

Pharrell Williams' bleating falsetto is somehow both hideous and overwhelmingly alluring at the very same time, but when coupled with Snoop's wound-down rhymes and The Neptunes' punchy, handclapper production, nothing else feels quite so right. "Beautiful" is a lush, unstoppable promise, Snoop's mesmeric flow persistently erasing any flaw from the green world around him. Before long, Pharrell's lazy, high-pitched clucks are enough to make women actually believe the silly shit he says: I'm his favorite girl! --Amanda Petrusich

44: Manitoba
"Jacknuggeted"
[Domino]

The greatness of this track rests solely in the moment when the galloping acoustic guitar, just joined by a lone organ chord, bursts into even more propulsive strumming, like a sloppy-tongue kiss from the first day of summer. This single from Up in Flames nicely sums up Manitoba's electronica/acoustic revival of the sunnier side of the 60s: its trajectory seems simple on the surface, but dive deeper and you'll find you can't touch the bottom. --Chris Dahlen

To this cynic's ears, the line, "Did you see the stylish kids in the riot?/ Shoveled up like monks/ But no, not on fire," seems to carry some hypocrisy, considering the fashionable retro-trends The Libertines spent this year riding, but sincerely or not, it carries one of the most heavenly impressions of the late 70s' British blue-collar pub-punk sound to come 'round these parts in a long time. There are more than just echoes of The Clash in Carl Barat's cockney vocals and stinging lyrical sarcasm, but musically, the band finds their own terrain, encompassing mid-70s Bowery apathy, the folk of the British countryside, and the vast oceans in between. In 2003, we're a hell of a long way from the spirit that spawned the surge of punk rock in England, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth remembering. --Eric Carr

42: The Rapture
"Sister Saviour"
[Strummer/Universal]

"Sister Saviour" isn't your typical Rapture song, nor is it your typical Rapture ballad: it's Rapture Class C, the brilliantly restrained 80s pop junket. Carried by a slick rhythmic shuffle, pulsating synths, and the jammed guitar chords that emulate Rio -era Duran Duran, this track may not be one of the band's most characteristic moments, but it's unquestionably one of their best. The Rapture's decision to forgo their usual jagged riffs and tortured wails was a good call here: such intense art-punk conviction would have decimated this track's perfectly coked-out club ambience. --Joshua Sharp

41: Johnny Cash
"Hurt"
[American Recordings]

Everyone knows that in his autumn years, Johnny Cash underwent an artistic transformation in which he gained the ability to assimilate any song on earth. It didn't matter if you were Merle Haggard or Glenn Danzig: if he deigned to record it, your song became his, and you were powerless to resist. Which was fine, because it was really meant to be his song, anyway. Like "Hurt", for example, in which all trace of Nine Inch Nails frontman Trent Reznor's frustrated complaining miraculously became a weary resignation to the inevitability of a long and difficult life's surmounting end-- and the unexpected death of wife June Carter just after its release (not to mention her appearance in the song's already harrowing video) only lent it more heft and potency. Though you still find Cash's records amongst any store's stock of country music, he was more a folk hero as iconic as Woody Guthrie or Phil Ochs, a rebel whose only solace was rebellion. It's only fitting that one of his career's greatest achievements also served as his final finger to the world. --Ryan Schreiber