4. Good News For People Who Love Bad News (2004)

A rare case of a “breakthrough” album that makes good on a band’s potential, Modest Mouse’s second major label album had people who had never in their lives set foot inside an independent record store humming along to songs about misanthropic poets, 18th century buffalo-hunting tribes, and the joys of spending time in jail. The band’s sound had already been beefed up considerably on the popular The Moon & Antarctica, so longtime fans were probably primed for the immensity of Good News For People Who Love Bad News. The timing was perfect: By now, hipster purists had either long since dismissed the band or reluctantly made their peace with the idea of their beloved ‘Mouse receiving paychecks from the house that Michael Jackson built. This made Modest Mouse’s transition to superstars palatable to, well, everyone who was listening. And a lot of people were: The album would go on to sell over one and a half million copies, thanks in no small part to the runaway success of first single “Float On.” The song’s propulsive hi-hat rhythm and high register guitar chime are classic Modest Mouse, albeit cleaner and sharper, while the Panglossian lyrics reveal a mirror world in which cops are reasonable and getting fired is awesome. Of course this song was a hit! “Bury Me With It” hearkens back to the Pixies-worship of the band’s earliest singles, and if Brock’s Black Francis impression makes you wince, consider that 80% of the band’s fanbase at this point wouldn’t know the Pixies from the Poppy Family. Elsewhere, the banjo-led “Bukowski” may be the world’s first reggae shanty, while “Blame It On The Tetons” expertly conjures the hushed post-rock romanticism of mid-period Yo La Tengo. Modest Mouse fans that scoff at Good News For People Who Love Bad News are likely the same contrarians whose favorite Nirvana album is Bleach. This is not exactly Grave Dancer’s Union. Shit, it’s not even Dear You. Don’t think of it as a hit album. Think of it as self-described trailer trash mooning the moguls who paid them to record fucked-up shit like “Dig Your Grave.”