I was so pissed off at the Rolling Stone top 50 albums of the 00s. I muttered to myself about it for days. Why? Because it was top loaded with comfort music. Albums from artists who defined their own decades of ascendance (60s, 70s, 80s). But how can these artists, who are writing music for themselves rather than tapping into the mood of now, have truly defined this first decade of the new millennium? And this was my source of anger and eventual inspiration.

So I'll start out with my music comfort food for the 00s. NOFX. No matter when their new album comes out, they make the album I end up listening to more than anything else. It's always where my head space is. But they didn't make their best album in the 00s.

Green Day made it's best album in 2004. A little CD called American Idiot. Ten years after rising from the Dookie, they redefined themselves. Which was pretty cool.

The White Stripes, Kings of Leon, The Shins, Vampire Weekend and My Chemical Romance created transcendent albums this decade. AND they are all truly 00s artists.

I was (am) in two bands in the aughts. In early 2003, Old Beans was born of three guys who'd never been in a band, but had an average age of over 30. We eventually learned how to play, write songs, have fun, get pissed off, break stuff and eventually move on to other things. It was the greatest band I'll ever be in. Except Full Speed Veronica, which I'm in now. My feeling about being in bands is that it should be the best band you've ever been in. And when you are performing, it's the greatest band playing in the world right then. Even if you forget all the words, can't play your instrument and no one is watching. So these two bands helped me, in no small way, to get through this decade.

In the last year I've been debating (mostly in my head) digital music vs. vinyl. You can store all the digital music you'd ever want in the world on something smaller than your hand. My four story vinyl rack takes up a corner of my office, and I couldn't carry much of it at once. But there's nothing attached to the digital music. No liner notes. No pictures. No memories. Just the song. Which is nice, but also, ephemeral. Why do so many people think music should be free? Because, when it comes down to it, digital music is almost unreal and completely insubstantial. A good breeze takes it away. So vinyl has heft, pictures, letters from the band, producers, record companies, gatefolds and you can hear, sometimes, how old that music really is by the cracks and hisses. I go back and forth on this.

Not long after planes flew into the World Trade Center and we all lost our minds, my circle of friends lost one of our own. A one time roommate of my brother and I, Brian Chavez trusted someone who was not his friend. He OD'd on heroin and died in the early hours of November 3, 2001. I still miss him, his love and stupidity, and raise a toast on occasion.

A few years later one of my favorite authors blew his head off with a shotgun. Hunter S. Thompson is no more. Long live the Gonzo.

But during this decade I also became an uncle. Gaining two nephews and a niece. As I tell everyone (especially dads), being an uncle is the easiest thing in the world. Remember the birthdays as best you can (I should really write them down), send gifts, read books, encourage insubordination against the parents (my brothers and sisters in law) and try not to say the bad words too much in front of them. Whenever I'm done, I get to go home.

And watch TV. "Battlestar Galactica" is the best series I've watched since "Buffy" (which is still tops...and did end its run early in the decade). "Weeds" and "Entourage" are good fun. But most of the series I started watching this decade got cancelled early in their run. So I usually just put a game on.

Or a movie. The Lord of the Rings trilogy was amazing. Almost Famous is a great love letter to music and bands, while 24 Hour Party People is the hilariously bitter pill. I got Lost in Translation. But Tarantino, who rose to prominence in the early 90s, had two splendid movies in the last ten years as well. Kill Bill (the two part samurai hit woman revenge saga) and Inglourious Basterds (a history changing Jewish revenge WWII flick) were freakin' amazing. And I won't choose between them because I don't have to. But I do know why the latter misspelled its title.

Books are harder, but I'll pick one: Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman. Great riffs on pop culture. And it helped validate (somewhat) my publishing exploits of the 90s. In that it got me to read Chuck's first book...in which I'm mentioned.

Because, when it the hammer comes down, it's all about me. Right?

Matt Worley likes to think of himself as infamous. But that's probably overstating it a bit.