All your diction dripping with disdain

#49) Eve feat. Robin Thicke, "Fantasy"
A charismatic rapper waxes erotic over a tight beat, an r&b singer cooing consent on the chorus. Sounds like an easy hit, so I guess they got the genders wrong - the cocksman is supposed to do the objectifying. Hip-hop no longer knows what to do with a pro-sex woman who's neither Queen Bitch nor a Pussycat Doll. Bet she sings on the track that finally gets the ever-more-wryly-titled Here I Am released.


#50) Vampire Weekend, "Oxford Comma"
You should listen to indie-pop's album of the year, if:

You get off on the cover of Crazy Rhythms more than the music.

You've wanted to molest Michael Cera since he was 16.

You can list every Walkmen album in order of preference.

You have no reservations about the work of Wes Anderson.

You would love the Police even if they lacked chops, musical and vocal.

"A-Punk" would shine on the second disc of an Outlandos d'Amour reissue, but "Oxford Comma" is the track that says they just needed another year or three in the oven before serving. If we're lucky (ok, if I am), sudden fame will stoke pop ambitions, lower Ezra Koenig's voice, raise his confidence past "lol music" refs and mold him into a more literate John Mayer. Maybe he'll even fire the drummer.