The 40 Best Deep Cuts of 2004: Staff Picks

On the first part of his 2004 double-release Sweat/Suit, Nelly provided a motivational anthem filling gym-goers’ playlists across the country. Sports fans recognized the triumphant production behind “Heart of a Champion,” which samples John Teck’s “Roundball Rock” – more popularly known as the fan-favorite NBA on NBC theme song. The Sweat opener is an incredible snapshot of the 2000s sports landscape, with professional athletes name-dropped by Nelly like Michael Redd, Julius Peppers and Ray Lewis. Looking back, it aligns with Nelly at the time, who was then filming for his role as the Mean Machine’s star inmate running back, playing Earl Megget in the following year’s The Longest Yard remake. — MICHAEL SAPONARA

The second album from The Streets, the musical project of U.K. rapper/producer Mike Skinner, tells the story of a guy who lost a stack and tries to get it back without completely disrupting his life. The concept album is at turns hilarious and touching, with songs about heartbreak, strife and the crushing mundanity of everyday life. “Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way,” one of A Grand Don’t Come for Free‘s most unsung songs, manages to combine all three: a ditty about how much he should appreciate the woman in his life, the love song features a comically corny reggae chorus sung by British singer/actor Leo the Lion. But, hey, it works with the bright piano riff, stuttering drums, and overall vibe of the song. Grand works best when consumed all together but track five stands strong on its own. — DAMIEN SCOTT

Songs about parenthood are always tear-jerkers, but Marc Broussard’s “Gavin’s Song” is particularly harrowing. Built around little more than forlorn acoustic guitar and a bluesy voice wrapped in a rasp that yanks the heartstrings, “Gavin’s Song” find Broussard penning a letter to his young song, lamenting over his inability to be around as often as he’d like. “I wish you nights of stars/ That beckon you to sleep/ I wish you heartache/ That leaves you more of a man/ I wish I could be there/ But I can’t,” he muses in the first verse. Anyone else’s eyes a bit wet? — KYLE DENIS

Atlanta rep Ludacris took a spontaneous trip to the West Coast to team up with DJ Quik for this classic Compton-inspired cut from The Red Light District. Just like Quik’s most care-free hits from the early ’90s, this song revels in having nowhere to be – so why not throw a party? (Bonus points to our sister PMC publication for this priceless shout-out: “Feel good as we flippin’ through the Robb Report/ My baby momma ain’t trippin’ on child support.”) – KATIE ATKINSON

For the second time in two LPs, Taking Back Sunday pulled their new album’s name from a chorus lyric to one of its obvious highlights — and for the second straight album, they still failed to choose that song as one of its official singles. At least the Tell All Your Friends-titling “Cute Without the ‘E’” got a Fight Club-inspired music video; this one’s “Set Phasers to Stun” had to settle for being the album opener, where its tense riffing and cathartic chorus set the perfect tone for the set that would ultimately prove the band’s mainstream breakthrough, peaking at No. 3 on the Billboard 200. “It’s where you wanna be,” indeed. — ANDREW UNTERBERGER

Reports have it that the “wannabe señorita” who flies too close to the sun in a private jet in acclaimed pop not-quite-star Annie’s “Me Plus One” is actually Gerri Haliwell — to whom producer and co-writer Richard X was supposed to give the song “Some Girls,” before it ended up a huge ’04 U.K. hit for Rachel Stevens. It’s a lot of behind-the-scenes drama that’s thoroughly unnecessary for enjoyment of “Me Plus One,” a slinky nu-disco strutter whose high-life tales of its misguided protagonist are intoxicating enough that you’re right there with her in her delusions, begging to be put on the list with them. — A.U.

N.E.R.D. stretched the limits of rap-rock on their 2001 debut album In Search Of…, and on follow-up Fly or Die, they leaned even further into rock, enlisting the Madden brothers of Good Charlotte for this giddy, Warped Tour-ready track that (as the title hints) demands that you catch some air. The lyrics are from the perspective of a rebellious runaway getting as far from home as possible, with Pharrell looking to a brighter future somewhere in the cosmos (“Don’t let NASA teach you that we are by ourselves/ ’Cause trust me there’s something else”). – K.A.

“Never Enough” serves as one of the rare collaborations on Eminem’s Encore, as Slim Shady enlists a couple of his good friends in 50 Cent and the late Nate Dogg, who shines with a smooth chorus bragging about Aftermath’s wins in recent battles over Murder Inc. and Benzino. Even two decades ago, Em was satisfied with his legacy in hip-hop and voiced his belief that if he passed away, that he deserved to be properly buried in rap’s pantheon (“When I hit the heavenly gates I’ll be cool beside Jay-Z.”) — M.S.

On the title track to Rilo Kiley’s third album, Jenny Lewis considers all of life’s heavy-hitters — heartbreak, marriage, kids, love, death — in her deliciously sad, pristine vocal. “I read with every broken heart/We should become more adventurous,” she sings, sounding wounded but hopeful. The indie rock band often toyed with the contrast of heavy words and upbeat sounds, and here, Blake Sennett’s sprightly acoustic guitar strumming drives the feelings forward, while sliding pedal steel from producer Mike Mogis keeps things relaxed and easy. Lewis even jumps in with her harmonica, sounding as breezy as her collaborators, which reinforces the idea that despite the thematic weight, there’s optimism running through this song. — C.W.

From “ASAP to “Bring ‘Em Out,” T.I.’s follow-up to his pioneering sophomore album has no shortage of hits. Urban Legend has hard-edged trap anthems, braggadocios pop cuts and slick sex odes in equal measure, so picking the singles was likely a tough process. But it’s utterly bizarre that “The Greatest” didn’t get a proper push: After all, it was produced by a still-in-his-prime Mannie Fresh, around the same time he was helping Lil Wayne launch the second act of his career with Tha Carter. Over Mannie’s bouncing bass and tinkling keys, Tip runs down all the trappings of his success and everything he’s willing to do to protect it. Mannie and Tip would go on to have a hit single on T.I.’s next album with “Top Back,” but this should have been their first smash together. — D.S.  

In the year between two acclaimed New Pornographers albums (2003’s Electric Version and 2005’s Twin Cinema), Newman — the power-pop supergroup’s cerebral, melodically-gifted main songwriter and vocalist — released his solo debut, The Slow Wonder. This standout track perfectly encapsulates Newman’s significant talent both as an arranger (that insistent ’60s drum beat plus jolt of an electric guitar line plus….maybe a beeping alarm clock?) and intriguingly oblique lyricist: the narrative of a man “tied to a bed with a miracle drug in one hand” is as literal as Newman gets, yet within just over three minutes, still triggers a litany of questions around what it’s ultimately about. — REBECCA MILZOFF

Right from the get-go, Daddy Yankee’s “Dale Caliente” wastes no time setting the scene ablaze with its maximalist electronic-driven dembow and explosive energy. After all, its title, loosely translating to “give it hot,” says it all. With the song’s infectious beat over machine-gun-like drills, coupled with the King of Reggaetón’s unrivaled flow, this deep cut packs a punch that’s impossible to forget — keeping Barrio Fino‘s fire burning bright and earning its place as a fan favorite. — ISABELA RAYGOZA

It’s hard to classify this one as a deep cut, since it also served as the theme song for The Ashlee Simpson Show, the MTV reality series that introduced the world to Jessica’s little sis. But it was somehow never a single, even though – much like the show itself – the title track from her debut album pretty perfectly encapsulates Ashlee’s music: It was a little rock, a little grimy (girl, wash your T-shirt), and it fit right into the identity-crisis moment between bubblegum pop and emo’s mainstream moment. This was Ashlee Simpson’s sweet spot. – K.A.

Brooklyn’s TV on the Radio found success synthesizing everything from ‘50s doo wop, ‘60s soul, ‘70s prog rock, and ‘80s indie rock into a comfortable sound that they used to deal with very uncomfortable topics. That was the appeal of their excellent full-length debut Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes. On an album full of rich, textured examinations, perhaps none were as devastatingly great as “Ambulance.” The haunting vocal harmonies that take the place of instrumentation create the perfect bed for singer Tunde Adebimpe to pull and push his vocals as he tells his love that he would be their “ambulance if you will be my accident, and I will be your screech and crash if you will be my crutch and cast.” Despite their influences being laid bare, we’d never heard anything quite like this before — or since, really.  — D.S.

The Hunger for More allowed Lloyd Banks to spread his wings outside of the G-Unit umbrella with the PLK’s debut keeping 50 Cent’s scorching collective’s winning streak alive. “Warrior” was overshadowed on Hunger by hits like “I’m So Fly” and “On Fire,” but this on-point deep cut could’ve easily traded places with either as a big single. One bar gives a funny peek into the early-’00s streetwear fashion staple that had everyone rocking varsity jackets emblazoned with logos from all 29 NBA teams: “If that’s your man, warn him/ ‘Cause there’s enough bullets in here to hit every NBA patch on him,” Banks raps. — M.S.

While art-rock group Xiu Xiu’s winding career has often been defined by gonzo experimentation, “I Luv the Valley OH!” — though never officially released as a single — will forever stand as their chaotic version of a pop anthem. Jamie Stewart may screech out his accusations and defiance over crushed-in drum squelches, but the guitar line sounds beamed in from alternative radio, and his repeated phrases turn his urgent words into refrains. And the howl Stewart unleashes near the end (“Je t’aime the valley, OHHHH!”) fully awoke the indie world to a bold new voice. — JASON LIPSHUTZ

It was Mannie Fresh who had the foresight to predict that Tha Carter series would “define” rap and carry Cash Money Records for years to come. While “Go DJ” was the radio hit dominating the Billboard charts, “This Is the Carter” was the more authentic look into the first installment of what became an iconic series. Fresh delivers a slick chorus in addition to his Southern bounce on the production side, which sets Wayne up for a trio of sharp verses filled with typical witty bars from the rap phenom. Two decades later, nobody could’ve predicted the massive commercial heights Weezy’s legendary Tha Carter series would reach, but he was off to a hell of a start alraedy. — M.S.

Régine Chassagne takes the lead on this hummable tune — dusted with bright synthesizers upheld by a comforting, repetitive bass line — that belies a darker meaning. Singing half in French and half in English, Chassagne takes listeners into the Haiti her parents fled in the 1960s, a violent era overseen by then-president François Duvalier. “Mes cousins, jamais nés/ Hantent les nuits de Duvalier,” she sings, calling out her unborn cousins who haunt the dictator’s nights. Though Chassagne’s delivery remains calm and cool, a repeated synth note hammers away for a full minute around the third verse, ratcheting up the tension as she sings of Haitians being hunted by soldiers in the forest. — C.W.

Taken from her Gold-certified Afrodisiac LP, “Focus” is a prime example of that record’s soulful, ambient aesthetic. Lyrically, Brandy struggles with the cyclical nature of bad habits (“Don’t wanna lose my focus/ But it’s bound to leave”), while the mixture of skittering synths and electric guitar inject the track with an unexpected, but welcome, contrast to the murky whirlpool she crafts with her endless layers of background harmonies. — K.D.

After the commercial and critical breakthrough of Wilco’s prior album, 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the group had found its lane, smashed somewhere between its early country-fied acoustic rock and the experimental weirdness of Television and the later period Beatles. “Handshake Drugs” epitomizes that, with its breezy beginning (“I was chewing gum, for somethin’ to do”) and its steady guitar eventually giving way to a fizzed-out breakdown echoing the internalized panic attacks that lace the entirety of A Ghost Is Born. It’s not weirdness for weirdness’ sake — it’s weirdness for a purpose, and it makes the song all the more compelling. — DAN RYS

On The Dirty South, the band’s second concept album about the mythology of the American South, Jason Isbell (who had not yet launched his solo career) wrote this tough rocking track to re-imagine the tale of folk hero John Henry. In the sound mix, Isbell’s voice fights to be heard above barroom guitars as he tells of the legendary laborer who “knew the perfect way to hold a hammer/ Was the way the railroad baron held the deed.” John Henry competes in vain with the steam-powered machinery that would take away his job — and his life. — THOM DUFFY

Juanes’ “Dámelo” bursts onto the scene like a ray of Colombian sunshine, infusing his trademark rock-encrusted sound with irresistible energy. Translating to “give it to me,” the title alone sets the flirtatious tone for this gem. “What do I have to do to have/ On my lips those beautiful little lips of yours?,” he playfully yearns. With its funky rhythms, a riveting guitar solo and Juanes’ magnetic delivery, this deep cut is simply electric, showcasing the Medellín musician’s undeniable charm and keeping his breakthrough album Mi Sangre ablaze with its fiery spirit. — I.R.

One of the defining hallmarks Junior Boys’ electro-pop masterpiece Last Exit is its relative stillness, the way it infuses R&B melodies and delivery into its synth-heavy soundscapes but very rarely the genre’s sense of emotional urgency. That is, until album climax “Teach Me How to Fight,” where over increasingly yearning keys, the duo asks for the internal strength and passion to take a stand: “Can you teach me how to fight?/ Show me what it’s like to give back pain.” It’s a spellbinding and conspicuously bloody moment, particularly for how purposefully placid the album had been till that point. — A.U.

From Wilson’s debut album Here for the Party, which went to No. 1 on Top Country Albums and reached No. 2 on the Billboard 200, this bittersweet, understated, love-gone-wrong ballad is beautifully crafted: “If we hadn’t been so happy baby/ it wouldn’t hurt this bad.” With Wilson’s sorrowful vocals, the song resonates — even if you don’t know it was composed by a supergroup of songwriters: Al Anderson, longtime member of NRBQ; Bekka Bramlett, daughter of Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett; Bob DiPiero, a BMI Icon honoree; and Tim Nichols, co-writer of Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying.” — T.D.

“Took a train outta New Orleans/ And they shot me full of ephedrine,” Gerard Way sings to start “Give ‘Em Hell, Kid.” And following the grandiosity of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge opener “Helena,” the track hits like an aural ephedrine shot to the brain – 138 seconds of thrashing guitars, pummeling bass, and Way’s sing-like-his-life-depends-on-it vocals. It’s among the most thrilling moments on an album full of them; no wonder Gerard and his brother Mikey have said it’s their favorite song to play live, with the former likening it to “riding a cruise missile.” — ERIC RENNER BROWN

In some ways, the subtle centerpiece from Joanna Newsom’s majestic 2004 debut The Milk-Eyed Mender foreshadowed the future of her recording career: its six-minute run time hinted at the gargantuan track lengths of Ys two years later, and the interplay between existentialism and everyday life (Sadie was the name of Newsom’s childhood dog) would prominently factor into all of her following projects. When taken on its own merits, however, “Sadie” remains a hypnotic listen, as Newsom’s vocal scratch soars upward with each new movement before spiraling back down. — J.L.

The trance-inducing “Cherry” closes out Ratatat’s self-titled, predominantly instrumental album, which has its chill moments over 11 tracks but mostly centers around the 3-2-1-blast-off sounds of electric guitarist Mike Stroud and producer Evan Mast. A hat-tip to the duo’s original name, “Cherry” slowly adds layers of synthesizers, ticks and tocks that supply the rhythm and a stretched-out guitar burst that feels like a sunrise or a rainbow or maybe a rainbow at sunrise. It reaches its peak at the halfway point, but it’s so gradual that you don’t notice the build until it all drops away. After a 30-second reprieve, the layers return in full glory, shining brightly before fading away once more, in a perfect album ending. — C.W.

Thanks largely to Roc-A-Fella Records, soul samples returned to the forefront of hip-hop in the early 2000s. The label’s stable of producers, which included Bink!, Kanye West, and Just Blaze, found ways to flip old records and make them sound luxurious instead of dusty. Few on the label used them to greater effect than Cam’ron, the Harlem provocateur who linked with the Roc for an exceptional, if not hectic three-album run. One of the standouts came towards the end of his Purple Haze project, where West did his best Heatmakerz impersonation, chopping and speeding up a perfect Chuck Cissel sample, for “Dip-Set Forever.” Cam and Roc-A-Fella’s relationship soured soon after this album, but the Diplomats’ core group stayed together — because, as the song predicted, Dipset is forever.  — D.S.  

Destiny’s Child’s final album is a career-closer that most acts dream of, and “If” is one of its several crown jewels. This Rockwilder-produced ode to classic R&B features the trio’s characteristically tight harmonies and dizzying vocal acrobatics. Here, they infuse their take ‘00s R&B with a healthy dose of gospel, particularly in the pitch-perfect pacing of the bridge, which gives way to Kelly Rowland delivering her own heartbreak-conquering testimony. If ever there was track that so beautifully captured the maturation of one of pop’s greatest girl groups, it’s “If.” — K.D.

Modest Mouse purists have long lamented 2004’s Good News for People Who Love Bad News, the band’s major-label debut after its sterling indie run in the late ’90s and early ’00s, and an album where detractors suggest the Washington rockers sanded off their rough edges – and lost some potency. But cuts like “Bury Me With It” – where bassist Eric Judy delivers another of his slinky bass riffs as Isaac Brock menacing yelps “I just don’t need none of that Mad Max bulls–t!” – prove that even as they entered their most commercial period, Modest Mouse’s feral intensity was still perfectly intact. — E.R.B.

For the first full-length track of his debut studio album, soon-to-be R&B fixture John Legend opts for a swaggering amalgam of neo-soul and hip-hop. Twinkling piano, pounding drums and a throaty hook help the set the scene for the album’s soundscape, making for a groovy energy that’s worlds away from the piano ballads that would grant him greater Hot 100 success down the line. “I know you’re getting tired of the same old thing / But I’m gon’ break the rules, gonna change the game,” croons in a rhythmic cadence in the song’s first verse. Whether or not Legend changed the game is up for debate, but the quality of “Let’s Get Lifted” surely isn’t. — K.D.

Ghostface Killah spends the entirety of 2004’s The Pretty Toney Album radiating lovable weirdo energy, staging fake press conferences, demanding a banana Nutrament, making a red-hot Missy Elliott say the word “tush” a lot on the song “Tush.” “Beat the Clock” may be the album’s single goofiest idea — Ghostface is challenged to speed-rap by another version of Ghostface, and to reach the imaginary finish line at the arbitrary time of two minutes and 37 seconds — but that unhinged setup crystallizes why Ghostface is such a beloved rap eccentric. And he really does go berserk on “Beat the Clock,” finishing up his breathless wordplay with an O.J. Simpson reference, a self-comparison to Ibuprofen and a lyric about an “iced-out” condom; congrats on beating the clock, and never change, Pretty Toney. — J.L.

This one had the tough distinction of being the other song with “Gone” in the title from Clarkson’s second album, but even though “Since U Been Gone” was the project’s, well, breakaway hit, fans have a soft spot for the lesser-known rocker. Co-written by Kara DioGuardi (eventual American Idol judge writing for the original Idol champ!) and John Shanks, the song’s talk-sung bridge stands out among the fuzzy guitars (“There is nothing you can say/ Sorry doesn’t cut it, babe/ Take the hit and walk away, ’cause I’m gone”). – K.A.

In less than than two minutes, “Jacqueline” establishes everything that made alt-art-rockers Franz Ferdinand’s self-titled debut thrilling. After the album opener’s delicate, acoustic first section, interlocking, Strokes-like guitar melodies fire up, before singer Alex Kapronos delivers the track’s memorable chorus over a funky riff: “It’s always better on holiday/ That’s why we only work when we need the money.” Two decades later, it’s still one the Scottish band’s most exhilarating tracks. — E.R.B.

Almost pointless to isolate highlights from the singular 22-track, 46-minute display of mastery that is MF Doom and Madlib’s sole full-length collaboration as Madvillain — it all sounds better in context, and why wouldn’t you just listen to the whole thing anyway? But if only had two minutes to convince the unconverted, you could do no better than “Accordion,” with its wheezing title-instrument hook and knocking drums providing the perfect backdrop for a dazzling single verse of Doom couplets, including “Chase it with more beer, taste it like truth or dare/ When he have the mic, it’s like the place get like: ‘Aw, yeah!,’” “In living, the true gods/ Giving y’all nothing but the lick like two broads,” and of course the all-time kicker, “Slip like Freudian/ Your first and last step to playing yourself like accordion.” — A.U.

The singles were all smashes, but the deep cuts were even better: American Idiot‘s true charms lie in genre and period exercises like the ’80s arena-rocking “Are We the Waiting,” the ’60s British-Invading “Extraordinary Girl” and the gently ’70s glammy “Give Me Novacaine. Following a drum intro reminiscent of David Bowie’s “Soul Love,” Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong delivers his pleas for numbness with disarming sweetness, putting on a barely-convincing smile as he tries to convince the doc to give him the good stuff. By the chorus, his tone stiffens into something more like a rallying cry: “Drain the pressure from the swelling/ THIS SENSATION’S OVERWHELMING!” — A.U.

It’s a wonder that “Serious” wasn’t one of the six singles released from L.A.M.B., given its glossy, ’80s-indebted production (courtesy in part to her No Doubt bandmate and the song’s co-writer Tony Kanal) and sing-along chorus (“You get me seriously out of my mind”). Honestly, if someone said this was a bonus track from either Madonna’s True Blue in 1986 or Lady Gaga’s The Fame, which came out a full four years later, it would be believable. Stefani, per usual, was at once classic and ahead of her time. – K.A.

If you were still unconvinced about the artist formerly known as Kanye West being the game-changer that everyone — no one more than the man himself — was hyping him as in 2004, it probably didn’t take you more than a track into debut LP The College Dropout to come around. “We Don’t Care” was simply a stunner: funny, compassionate and genuinely kinda inspiring; built around a swirling sample from the Jimmy Castor Bunch’s cover of Gino Vannelli’s “I Just Wanna stop” and punctuated by resounding horn blasts, it was the extremely rare song that actually earns its kids singalong on the chorus. Helps, of course, that the message Ye is instructing them to sing with was so heart-rending and hopeful, in a way that’s sadly impossible to imagine from the man 20 years later: “We wasn’t supposed to make it past 25, joke’s on you, we still alive.” — A.U.

The four singles from The Killers’ debut Hot Fuss – the classics “Mr. Brightside,” “Smile Like You Mean It,” “Somebody Told Me” and “All These Things That I’ve Done” – are sequenced from tracks two to five on the album. The fact that opener “Jenny Was a Friend of Mine” holds its own against them (and, depending on who you ask, might even top a couple of those singles) is testament to its greatness. Unsettling synths and helicopter sound effects play before bassist Mark Stoermer’s indelible bassline enters and provides a backdrop for singer Brandon Flowers’ uneasy murder mystery lyrics. — E.R.B.

There are countless songs about the chase, but few capture the arousing allure of pursuit as effortlessly and as sharply as Usher’s “Bad Girl.” Housed on an album that already contains some of the most defining hits of the mid-’00s, “Bad Girl” could have just been a passable album track. Instead, an all-star team of collaborators – including Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, The Avila Brothers, Destro Music, Wil Guice and Usher himself – built smooth and sexy track out of one of the slinkiest guitar licks of the 21^st century. Every component of the song is top-notch, but, like most of his records, Usher’s vocal performance is the key ingredient. When he sings, “Ooh, work me, baby/ Shaking it the way I like/ I’m ready to be bad I need a bad girl,” he genuinely sounds as if he really does need this bad girl.

Just short of desperate yet unafraid to show how badly he wants a taste of this bad girl, Usher expertly toes the lines of ladies’ man and lothario. It’s a balancing act that he’s maintained his entire career, adding in different nuances with each new record. Nonetheless, “Bad Girl” is the pinnacle – no other Usher record (and no other 2004 record) so seamlessly blends the reckless thrill of a night on the prowl with a winking nod to how quickly he can flip between his dominant and submissive sides while still remaining in control. — K.D.