Let’s face it, best-of-the-year lists are fascist. Who needs ’em? The best of the year is whatever you couldn’t take out of your CD player, or that thing that made the hair stand on the back of your neck—not what us obnoxious critics think. So whatever it was, I hope you enjoyed it, and to each his own. Here are my observations on the year that was. Maybe you’ll find something that rings true for you too.

Best Prince Album: Beck, Midnite Vultures (DGC) That spaced-out Los Angeles folkie seems to have found his inner twin cities. Between urging lesbians to scream and hitting on girls who work at the JC Penney, Beck has channeled his newfound horny urges into the most innovative pop-funk since Sign O’ the Times. When this guy is going to make a serious musical blunder is anyone’s guess. Everything he tries seems to work. I mean, how often is it that you say to someone, “the part where the banjo kicks in is when this song really rocks.”

Most Disappointingly Uneven Albums by People Actually From Minneapolis: The Artist Formerly Known as Prince, Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic (Arista) and Paul Westerberg, Suicaine Gratifaction (Capitol) Meanwhile, a couple of mid-’80s Minneapolis superheroes try to get their respective sounds back together. The Purple One attempts to recapture his Purple Rain-era sound but seems only periodically interested in doing so. In the process, he does crank out wonderful guitar work and some of the catchiest tunes he’s had in awhile. But there’s also some serious dreck, a useless Sheryl Crow cover, and guest appearances that barely register. Westerberg, on the other hand, makes the gruesome decision to become mature and leave behind his raucous Replacements past. The results produce some of the usual clever lyricism amid boring mid-tempo numbers.

Most Welcome Comeback: The E Street Band I haven’t seen a single show, but every review I’ve read has left my heart racing. I will sell my firstborn to Satan for them to come play Nashville. This town needs it bad.

Most Unwelcome Comeback: CSN&Y Good God, Neil! Get thee to a Crazy Horse rehearsal immediately. Wasn’t American Dream torture enough?

Most Surprising Comeback: RHCP After years of drug abuse, mediocre records, and revolving guitar players, the Red Hot Chili Peppers finally made the record everyone was waiting for and never thought would materialize, Californication. Prodigal son John Frusciante has come home wiser, more centered, and with a style of playing so heartfelt and soulful it makes Kiedis sound downright spiritual.

Most Half-Assed Comeback: G’N’FR Yeah, that’s right! Guns N’ Fuckin’ Roses, baby! Just like Slash used to say. Except poor ol’ Saul Hudson isn’t around anymore, and they might as well be called Techno N’ Roses. Things started off promisingly this year: rumors of a Lollapalooza headlining gig, a Spin cover story on the elusive Axl, and then came the song. “Oh My God” appeared on the End of Days soundtrack and was the first original song from the Gunners in eight years. And man alive did it suck. Resident lunatic Axl is the only original band member left, and apparently he has decided he is the second coming of Al Jourgensen or Trent Reznor or somebody who actually knows how to operate a computer. There’s little semblance of a real melody or hook, and Axl’s wonderful screech is unnecessarily distorted. Then, to add insult to injury, last month saw the release of Live Era 1987-1993, a blistering document that reminds you of what an ass-kicking, ferocious rock ’n’ roll band these guys could be.

Best Rap-Metal Album: Rage Against the Machine, The Battle of Los Angeles (Epic) Their political issues may be as easily forgotten as “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” but the trial-by-fire sound of Rage will not be. Tom Morello has secured his place in the ax players’ Hall of Fame with this one. With their ear for grooves and hip-hop noise, these guys produced the most potent rock record of the year.

Worst Musical Trend: Rap-metal Unfortunately, Rage’s first album back in ’92 inspired some of the most tone-deaf, talentless, brutish louts rock has ever produced. In the field of metal, that would usually be a compliment, but in this case it’s really not. Limp Bizkit and Korn proved at Woodstock ’99 that they have nothing going on in their heads or their hearts, just a lust for more cash, no matter who suffers. When you make Guns N’ Roses seem respectable and dignified, you know you’ve got a serious behavioral problem.

1999 Syd Barrett Award (subtitle: “Yes, I really am completely insane”): Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Nigga Please (Elektra) This has got to be the funniest and most frightening album of the year. You’ve seen the arrest records—now hear what Wu-Tang’s nutcase supreme has to say. One minute he’s complaining about the microchips that the government has put in his body, the next he’s covering Rick James in the most vulgar way he can. “Got Your Money” is the catchiest, shallowest, hip-hop single of the year, and when Dirty screams “Hate is the message!” on “You Don’t Want to Fuck With Me,” you really believe him. Enter this chamber at your own risk.

Most Underwhelming Indie Rock Hype: Built to Spill, Keep It Like a Secret (Warner Bros.); Sleater-Kinney, The Hot Rock (Kill Rock Stars); and The Flaming Lips, The Soft Bulletin (Warner Bros.) If you read some of the glowing reviews on each of the above records this year, you might have come away thinking that these bands had laid down a new blueprint for modern music. Well, not quite. Each band produced fine records that draw heavily on some ’80s influences. Built to Spill gives you blazing Neil Young-inspired guitar playing with whiny singing and cryptic lyrics about relationships. (Calling J. Mascis!) Sleater-Kinney produces some wonderfully visceral pop-punk with painfully honest lyrics about relationships. (Hüsker Dü? Do you remember?) And The Flaming Lips produced a surprisingly orchestral record rife with thoughtful ruminations on mortality. (Didn’t XTC put out a record this year?) All of these records are worthy purchases, but these bands are only reinventing the indie rock wheel.

Worst Album Titles: Stereolab, Cobra & Phases Group Play Voltage in the Milky Night (Elektra) and Fiona Apple, When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King What He Knows Throws the Blows When He Goes to the Fight and He’ll Win the Whole Thing ’Fore He Enters the Ring There’s No Body to Batter When Your Mind Is Your Might So When You Go Solo You Hold Your Own Hand and Remember That Depth Is the Greatest of Heights and If You Know Where You Stand Then You Know Where to Land and If You Fall It Won’t Matter Cuz You’ll Know That You’re Right (Epic) Get over yourselves, you pretentious twits.

Best Collaborative Albums: Steve Earle and the Del McCoury Band, The Mountain (E Squared) and Handsome Boy Modeling School, So...How’s Your Girl? (Tommy Boy) McCoury and his band provide some of the most vital bluegrass playing around, and Earle counters with some damn fine songs. Prince Paul and Dan “The Automator” Nakamura team up under the Handsome Boy Modeling School moniker to cut loose some of the most psychedelic and groovy hip-hop all year.

Best Tribute Album: Return of the Grievous Angel: A Tribute to Gram Parsons (Almo Sounds) You can find reasons to quibble with a couple of choices here, but there are also some outstanding performances, and Parsons has deserved this kind of recognition for a long time.

Worst Tribute Album: Burning London (Columbia) The Clash, on the other hand, should sue whoever put this together. Groups like 311 turn in predictably unimaginative covers, while Cracker commits utter blasphemy with a countrified version of “White Riot.” Only Afghan Whigs manage to do something interesting with “Lost in the Supermarket.” Besides, was this really necessary? Isn’t every Rancid record a Clash tribute?

Most Inexplicable Sequel: UB40, Labour of Love III (Virgin) Will you people please quit it? You are extraordinarily white Britons!

Most Fascinatingly Self-Indulgent Albums That Are Fun to Listen To: The Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs (Merge) and Nine Inch Nails, The Fragile (Nothing/Interscope) Both Trent Reznor and Stephin Merritt are geniuses in their fields; Reznor is a sonic innovator in industrial-rock, Merritt a lyrical and genre mastermind. Both decided to end the century with risky, unwieldy statements that nonetheless reward repeated lessons. The Fragile’s two discs don’t quite add up to the malevolent masterpiece that The Downward Spiral was, but Reznor still proves he’s the best at what he does. Merritt gives us 69 tunes examining the touching, hilarious, dangerous, rewarding, tiresome, petty act that is caring about another human being. He does it all with an incredibly ambitious reach of musical styles and what is hands down the sharpest wit in music today.

Best Anthology: Skin On Skin: The Mongo Santamaria Anthology (1958-1995) (Rhino) Amid all the attention given to the Buena Vista Social Club set, the release of this collection from Cuban jazz percussionist Mongo Santamaria got overlooked. His heated reworking of “Cold Sweat” almost puts The Godfather to shame.

Best Party Record: Basement Jaxx, Remedy (XL Recordings/Astralwerks) British DJs Felix Buxton and Simon Ratcliff have spliced every dance form they can come up with, from bossa nova to house. The result is the funnest, most shamelessly giddy record of the year in an increasingly pretentious genre.

Best Pretentious Electronica Record: Moby, Play (V2) Combining samples from Alan Lomax’s field recordings with his own moody hip-hop beats, Moby made a record that truly hit the emotional vein of African music and its history like nothing else. Moby’s highfalutin sound and vegan liner notes might put you off, but the guy’s got an incredible ear for a transcendent musical moment.

Most Deserving Comeuppance: Puff Daddy After shamelessly profiting on the death of his friend and blatantly stealing his ideas from others, Puffy got what he deserved: a record that tanked like nobody’s business.

Most Deserving Surprise Success: Santana It may be because the twit from Matchbox 20 is singing the single, but the Top 10 success of Carlos Santana this year is a sweet reward for someone who stuck around through the ever-changing musical climates. Score one for the old-timers.

Best Concept Album: Prince Paul, A Prince Among Thieves (Tommy Boy) Over two discs, this year’s overachiever uses fantastic beats and great cameos (from Kool Keith et al.) to tell a tale about trying to make it in the dirty rap business.

Records That Made You Miss Grunge: Chris Cornell, Euphoria Morning (A&M); Days of the New, Days of the New (Outpost); and Creed, Human Clay (Wind Up) Chris Cornell reemerged with his first solo record, a baroque suite of songs that were impressively written and sung—and utterly forgettable. It reminds you that without the pummeling force of Soundgarden behind him, Cornell is just a loud wail. Meanwhile, the Christians have apparently decided the way to woo the kids to Christ is by jumping on the musical trends of the early half of the decade. Days’ Travis Meeks might make a great record whenever he decides to give up the Cornell impersonation, and as for Creed, I think one Eddie Vedder in this world is plenty.

Worst Concept Album: Garth Brooks, ...In the Life of Chris Gaines (Capitol) Also eligible for best comedy album of the year. If you ever wondered just how talentless and megalomaniacal Garth Brooks really is, check out his “rapping” on this turd. How the label actually let him release this after hearing it I will never understand. But thank God they did.

Most Hummable Avant Garde: Mr. Bungle, California (Warner Bros.) Last but not least, this group of musical alchemists managed to take their disorienting cut-and-paste genre attacks and make something catchy by adding some Beach Boy harmonies and sterling production. And judging from the enthusiastic crowd response at their show at 328 last month, I’m not the only one who’s caught on to this gem. Maybe it’s a sign of what’s to come in the future millennium. I certainly can’t wait to find out.