Oh, that magic feeling.

Many of time’s most celebrated musical acts produced their celebrated music by writing songs as a group, together. Indeed, two heads are often better than one and collaboration often results in a more well-rounded product. These collaborations sometimes manifested themselves as partnerships – Jagger/Richards, Page/Plant or John/Taupin for example – that allowed each player a role in the creative process.

The relationships, like any, were at turns tumultuous and harmonious. One could convincingly argue that the state of the relationship had an influence on the resulting music and that the emotions of the people involved were partly, but not solely, responsible for the output of quality work (certainly the musicality and creativity of the individuals played a big part too).

One of the most successful songwriting partnerships was Lennon/McCartney. DUH. A friend recently argued that the work of Lennon/McCartney as Beatles was superior to the work of Lennon and McCartney as solo artists – that their partnership conjured something magical in the two of them that they could never replicate or hope to top on their own. I completely disagreed.

See, having listened to a lot of the Beatles, and having listened to a shitload of solo John Lennon lately, I’m realizing that the dissolution of the Beatles freed Lennon to pursue his own, unique brand of music – music that never would have materialized had Lennon not been free to realize his own, unique vision.

Paul McCartney was way-awesome, and his role in the musical partnership cannot be understated. But clearly, Lennon’s post-Beatles stuff wouldn’t sound anything like it does had the two collaborated on it. Just listen to the spare “God” off Plastic Ono Band and imagine how much less effective it’d be with a jaunty McCartney bass line. Or the airy “You Are Here” off Mind Games; how would that sound with a Paul-to-the-wall horn section or a busier melody? I don’t necessarily surmise that McCartney would have actually done these things if given a seat at Lennon’s songwriting table. My point is that he could have. Without Paul in the room, John could write and perform the songs just as he saw fit. It goes the other way too: McCartney’s Band on The Run wouldn’t sound like it does – hell, it wouldn’t be as awesome as it is – if Lennon had a hand in its creation.

It’s a fact that removing an element from an equation (L + Mc = magic) produces a different outcome (L – Mc = different magic or Mc – L = different magic). That point is unassailable. It’s mathematical. The understanding that those outcomes, while magical, are still incomparable apples and oranges is the takeaway here. It all boils down to personal taste, which outcome sounds better to you or which brand of magic you prefer. Because really, it’s all magic in the case of L and Mc… and oh, that magic feeling. Nowhere to go.

Top Five Albums of 2010, Honorable Mentions

Dr. Dog, Shame, Shame
The fifth full-length from the Philadelphia outfit finds the group treading familiar waters. The album is another exercise in Beatles-style pop rock – fun, bouncy and well-written.

Glasser, Ring
Armed with an able voice, Cameron Mesirow made the year’s most refined electronic album. Her laptop beats form compelling textures of sound, providing a warm haven for her Enya-esque vocals.

Local Natives, Gorilla Manor
An ultra-hip L.A. indie band (with the gear, beards and haircuts to prove it), Local Natives managed to fly under the mainstream radar all year. Hard to believe considering their album is stacked with big, moving, harmony-laden songs.

Tokyo Police Club, Champ
The Canadian foursome switched labels (again) and recorded a set of lively songs (again) for their third album. (Again) the music is electro-tinged, energetic and ebullient.

Kanye West, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
Kanye’s long-awaited album came out at the end of the year but still managed to top many of the year-end, best-of lists. Though it’s certainly dark and twisted, the album isn’t all that beautiful. Either way, it’s groundbreaking hip-hop that cements Kanye’s reputation as one of his generation’s greatest talents.

Yeasayer, Odd Blood
This hyped Brooklyn group simultaneously turned me on and turned me off. Their emo-dance album has some great moments, recalling Depeche Mode and Tears for Fears at their finest, but the cheese of some of the lyrics and the discord of some of the music are cringe-inducing.

David Bowie, Station to Station (Reissue)
Bowie’s far-out 1976 album, which he famously does not recall making, got the deluxe treatment this year. Even when coked-out and paranoid, Bowie again proved himself to be inimitable. The album also comes packaged with an unheard ‘76 show at Nassau Coliseum.

John Lennon, Mind Games (Reissue)
Timed with the 30th anniversary of his tragic death, all of Lennon’s solo material was remastered and reissued. This 1973 album, which he apparently just tossed off without much thought, is my favorite of the lot. Lush, introspective songs sidle up to sneering rock songs and make for a well-rounded pop album.

Top Five Albums of 2010, no. 1

Arcade Fire, The Suburbs

A focused, ambitious album about suburban sprawl and the kids that call it home, no other release of 2010 came close to matching The Suburbs in vision, timeliness and gravitas. To say nothing of the music itself, the album identified a uniquely American sentiment, took it, and ran with it. All this from a gang of Canadians. To be specific, bandleader Win Butler and guitarist brother Will spent a solid part of their formative years on the outer edges of Houston; their experience informs much of The Suburbs.

From the defeated “Modern Man” (sample line: “I feel I’m losing the feeling”) to the triumphant “Wasted Hours” (sample line: “wasted hours that you make new, and turn into a life that we can live”), a common thread runs through all sixteen songs. The album’s central theme is clear: the cookie-cutter suburban American lifestyle is crushing individuality. It is at once impressive and depressing to hear a fantastic band describe so perfectly the gloom of the burbs and the desolation of the people living there.

The album is perfectly paced, ebbing and flowing as passionate anthems (“We Used To Wait”) seek to convert non-believers and paranoid, solemn dirges (“Sprawl I (Flatland)”) speak to those in the know. Pointed without being cynical, the album is nonetheless an attack on what has become the American Way.

But even though a pervasive mood of frustration and despair colors the set, there still exist glimmers of hope. Whether it’s the building and stacking of hooks and layers on the hipster-profiling “Rococo” or the speed-string glee of “Empty Room,” galvanizing moments of profound musical beauty can be found and felt despite the album’s overall bleak tone.

And while the tunes don’t necessarily grab at first blush, they reward repeat listens. Songs like “Half Light I” and “Month of May” can feel plain initially. However, when taken in the context of the entire 60-minute set, they become more powerful, more moving, more inclusive even.

Indeed, Arcade Fire has a reputation for making audiences feel like they’re part of something bigger than rock and roll. With this collection of arena-ready songs, emphasizing feelings to which many can relate, Arcade Fire are fast approaching U2 and Springsteen levels – levels of fame and prominence that compel millions of rapt fans to hang on every word.

The Suburbs is the band’s third album; it debuted at number one back in August. It improves on their second, which improbably improved on their first. If they continue down this path, they will undoubtedly be legends in their time. Part of this is due to the uniting power of their music. Just try to ignore the grandeur of “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” or the intensity and force of “Suburban War”. So while Arcade Fire tell us that the suburbs destroy our sense of self, their fine album (so appropriate for 2010) reminds us that we’re not alone.

**UPDATE: Arcade Fire and The Suburbs were awarded the Grammy for Album of the Year.

Top Five Albums of 2010, no. 2

Beach House, Teen Dream

Baltimore isn’t a city known for its friendliness. Or its beaches. But Baltimore-bred Beach House’s alluring Teen Dream feels warm and inviting. Perhaps the boy-girl duo harnessed a strange, foreign energy to craft this album, a hazy and hooky set of layered and luscious songs.

On the opening “Zebra,” organist Victoria Legrand’s subtle, androgynous vocal simultaneously demands attention and lulls into submission as guitarist Alex Scally weaves atmospheric lines into a tuneful tapestry. “Used To Be” builds and builds only to suddenly topple, leaving alone a subdued Legrand to breathily chant “any day now” over metronome ticks and keyboard swells.

Though suffused with a notable sense of calm, the album is anything but a sleeper. The music is transporting, almost mystical (particularly on “Lover Of Mine,” which finds Legrand channeling Stevie Nicks at her witchiest).

Of all the albums I bought this year, this may be the one I listened to the most. Its airy feel fits a number of different settings and lasts from start to finish. The set ends softly, almost unnoticeably, as the closing “Take Care” takes nearly three minutes to completely fade out. It’s a fitting finale to a cloudy, drifting album that holds your attention while unobtrusively fading in and out of your consciousness.

Top Five Albums of 2010, no. 3

Best Coast, Crazy For You

Somehow, Beth Cosentino and co. wrote some of the most beautifully haunting, achingly lonely and touchingly poignant (but utterly simple) music of the year. All with just a handful of chords, no bass and a four-track. Seriously.

The production is muddy; the band is ON but each song still sounds like a demo. Even so, Cosentino’s voice communicates a sense of bracing honesty – that she means what she says. What she does say involves puppy-love, kitty-cats and pot-smoking. A simple girl with simple concerns making simple music, Cosentino definitely seems more interested in bongs and backyards than 401(k)s and nine-to-fives. Still, in that simplicity lies beauty. When soaked in reverb and splashed with sunshine, songs like “When I’m With You,” “Goodbye” and “Each And Every Day” shimmer like a summer day viewed through the tinted lens of a satisfying high.

The So-Cal vibe of the 13 tracks hits like waves crashing on the beach. And for one desperate moment, each song creeps back in your memory. By capably blending girl-group hooks with grunge sounds and pop stylings, the music feels familiar and comforting – like some kind of Ronette/Hole/Beach-Boy taco. It speaks to any young person, boy or girl, who’s been in a relationship, who’s felt happy or sad or jealous or apathetic, who’s maybe felt all those ways at once. Here’s hoping that the band’s superb full-length debut, which followed a series of EPs, won’t be its last release.

Top Five Albums of 2010, no. 4

The Soft Pack, The Soft Pack

The front of this San Diego foursome’s album shows the group on a beach, passing a joint. They look like typical stoner rock guys: messy hair, wrinkled shirts, Ray-Ban shades. And if you were to judge this book by its cover, you might assume it was typical garage rock music. However, when you assume, you make an ASS of U and ME. The Soft Pack actually make an atypical up-tempo racket, complete with deliberately-dumb vocals and shit-shaking riffs (“Mexico” even has a bit of slide guitar).

The band’s sound owes as much to nineties noise-rockers Pavement as it does to eighties punk-rockers the Ramones. Throw in a dash of present-day indie rock to firmly plant the band in the here-and-now and you’ve got a well-rounded recipe for unabashed fun.

Take the surf-y lead guitar on “Down On Loving.” It hangs loose over the rhythm section, adding a retro jolt to an otherwise contemporary song. And the Farfisa on “Move Along”? It’s so frantic, jammed between a manic one-chord guitar attack and frenzied drums, that it tells me these boys were born to boogie. And boys they are. Really, I still don’t know whether “Pull Out” is about driving or doing it.

The band’s sense of immaturity is apparent throughout (with “Flammable,” a brash threat to burn down the house, being another example), making me think the guys are more concerned with having fun than having fans. In fact, I saw them play to a nearly empty room last spring. But with an album this catchy (and assuming they follow it up with an equally accessible release), it won’t be long before they become a hot ticket.

The Soft Pack is a glib, flippant album – perfect for an escape from reality and a journey to la-la-land – something I desperately needed in 2010.

Top Five Albums of 2010, no. 5

What a year, eh? 2010 produced a glut of good music that both moved and mellowed me. To be sure, I felt more compelled to listen to new music this year than I have in recent years. Relying on word of mouth, internet buzz and magazine mojo, I was intrigued enough to buy new releases from indie crews as well as products of the major-label marketing machine. For the most part, I wasn’t disappointed…but the cream always rises to the top.

Starting today and continuing through the week, I’ll be posting reviews of my top five albums of 2010, revealing my number-one pick on Friday, January 7. Stay tuned.

The Secret Sisters, The Secret Sisters

Sisters Laura and Lydia Rogers, two gals who sing harmonies tighter than an oversized-bosom-containing bodice, came out of nowhere (well… Alabama) with this tasteful tribute to classic country music. Indeed, only two originals make the cut on the 29-minute album. The rest of the set is rounded out by choice covers from the likes of Bill Monroe, Buck Owens and Hank Williams, along with a few public-domain traditionals.

Pure and charming, the sisters’ sound harkens back to a simpler time, when the tinny sound from an old radio united friends and families around the soft glow of the dial. But just because the album has a vintage, worn-in feel doesn’t mean it lacks punch.

Executive-produced by old-timey maestro T-Bone Burnett, it features an ace band of Nashville studio veterans, all versed in the art of subtle, expressive instrumentation. For proof, check the reserved pedal steel on “The One I Love Is Gone” and the refined lead guitar on “I’ve Got A Feeling.” These two songs are also good examples of the sisters’ vocal versatility; the eerie “One I Love” calls to mind the backwoods Americana of woe-is-me country while the bouncy “Got A Feeling” recalls girl-group pop.

Certainly, their ability to cross genres is part of their appeal. That, along with their innate singing talent and the fact that they’re able to sound fresh while remaining rooted in tradition, is why the Secret Sisters are so great – and why their album is one of the best releases of 2010.