Attempting to compile a comprehensive list of the most important and influential Canadian albums of the 2000s was a difficult and messy undertaking. The aughts introduced the world to a long list of homegrown commercial juggernauts, but also provided fertile ground for underground and independent acts to reshape the sounds of indie rock, hip hop and more.
Here’s a snapshot of the most culture-defining albums that were released between 2000 and 2009.
2000
Nelly Furtado: “Whoa, Nelly!”
When “I’m Like a Bird” hit the airwaves in the fall of 2000, it felt like a breath of fresh air. The breezy, charming pop song was the first single from Nelly Furtado, a young, mostly unknown folk-pop singer from Victoria, B.C. Within months, it became a global hit, and eventually took home the Grammy for the Best Female Pop Vocal Performance. But this was no fluke — Furtado’s debut album “Whoa, Nelly!” was also a showcase of Furtado’s versatility, which she flexed on the sultry trip-hop-influenced single “Turn Off the Light.” The album caught the attention of superproducer Timbaland, who in the years to come would transform Furtado into an international superstar.
Honourable 2000 mentions: JackSoul: “Sleepless,” New Pornographers:“Mass Romantic”
2001
Nickelback: “Silver Side Up”
Love them or hate them, there’s no denying the colossal impact of Nickelback’s 2001 album “Silver Side Up.” The third album from the post-grunge rock band from Hannah, AB, might not have been “cool” — Chad Kroeger and the boys have always been a ruthlessly workmanlike rock band, apparently uninterested in musical trends or evolution — but good lord, was it popular. Riding the success of the gigantic single (and karaoke standard) “How You Remind Me” — to this day the last hard rock song to top the Billboard 100 — went eight times platinum in Canada, selling over 10 million copies. Kroeger’s growling vocals and crunchy, no-frills approach to songwriting on “Silver Side Up” spawned countless imitators, giving rise to the derogatory but somehow perfectly apt term “butt rock.” And yet despite the derision they faced, Nickelback maintained its immense popularity amongst its fiercely loyal, beer-swilling fan base. To this day, Nickelback’s unwavering resilience feels like a giant middle finger to the hipsters and the haters.
Kardinal Offishall: “Quest For Fire: Firestarter Vol. 1”
“Northern Touch,” the iconic 1998 posse cut spearheaded by the Rascalz, is often described as the track that put Canadian hip hop on the map. But it was the release of Kardinal Offishall’s first major label record that helped introduce the world to the “T Dot sound.” Released in 2001, “Quest For Fire: Firestarter Vol. 1” repackaged several of Kardi’s previously released songs and demos, and featured a long list of hip hop talent associated with the Toronto’s burgeoning scene: rappers and producers Solitair and Saukrates, R&B singer Jully Black and reggae star (and honourary Canadian) Sean Paul. Featuring dense lyricism and beats influenced by reggae and dance hall, the project not only brought Toronto’s underground hip hop scene to the surface, it also put a spotlight at the city’s unique diversity: ”You think we all Jamaican, when nuff man are Trini’s / Bajans, Grenadians and a hole heap of Haitians,” Offishall raps on “BaKardi Slang.” “Guyanese and all of the West Indies combined / To make the T dot O dot, one of a kind.”
Sum 41: “All Killer No Filler”
Skateboards, spiky hair and uncomplicated songs about girls and suburban shenanigans — for a certain cohort of punk-adjacent millennials, no band better encapsulates the sounds, feelings and general vibes of being a young person in the early 2000s than Sum 41’s debut album, “All Killer No Filler.” Hailing from Ajax, the band had undeniable similarities to pop-punk predecessors like Green Day and NOFX, but their songs seemed somehow turbocharged, brimming with a youthful zeal that felt genuine and infectious. The album spawned two massive hits — the sneering rap-rock cut “Fat Lip” and the delightfully earnest “In Too Deep” — turning frontman Deryck Whibley and the fellas into bona fide rock stars. But it also inspired a generation of teenagers to pick up a guitar and explore the expansive creative possibilities of combining power chords with a lust for life.
2002
Avril Lavigne: “Let Go”
It’s difficult to overstate the immediate impact of Avril Lavigne’s 2002 debut “Let Go.” Powered by two huge lead singles — “Complicated” and “Sk8er Boi” — the album managed to bridge the gap between teen pop and punk, combining sticky hooks with angsty vocals, distorted guitars and heavy eyeliner. Armed with a sharp attitude and a charmingly subtle country twang, the 17-year-old from Napanee was quickly heralded as the “anti-Britney Spears”: an edgier, more relatable artist who transcended the increasingly bland soundscape of Y2K teen pop. But it was the album’s third single, the soaring power ballad “I’m With You,” that revealed a tangible emotional depth to Lavigne’s music, proving that she was more than just the product of clever marketing.
“Let Go” was a monster commercial success — the album went seven times platinum in the U.S. and sold 16 million copies worldwide, making it the bestselling album of the 21st century by a Canadian artist. Lavigne’s sound and her style — skater shoes, baggy shorts, necktie — quickly spawned a cluster of imitators, from Fefe Dobson to Hilary Duff, and helped pave the way for a wave of popular pop-punk bands like Simple Plan and Good Charlotte. Pop music would never look (or sound) quite the same.
Broken Social Scene: “You Forgot It in People”
Founded in 1999 by Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning, Broken Social Scene started as a modest basement project dabbling in ambient post rock. By 2002, the band had expanded into a sprawling, amorphous musical collective that managed to capture the freewheeling, experimental sound of Toronto’s burgeoning indie rock scene. The sophomore album “You Forgot It in People” was written by Drew and Canning, but featured contributions from dozens of musicians, including Leslie Feist, Emily Haines (Metric), Amy Millan (Stars) and Jason Collett. The result was an indie rock masterpiece that felt democratically crafted and spiritually limitless — an “anything and everything goes” medley of driving post-punk, layers of reverb-drenched guitar, a saxophone solo here, a midsong noise freak out there. But despite the occasional chaos and rupture (“Almost Crimes”), the album also contained moments of tenderness (“Anthems For A Seventeen Year-Old Girl”, “Cause = Time”) and explosive moments of catharsis (“KC Accidental”). A quarter century later, Broken Social Scene — which has spawned dozens of offshoot bands and solo projects — may not be the best known Toronto rock band of the 21st century, but it’s hard to think of a group with more influence.
Shania Twain: “Up”
Having spent the previous decade revolutionizing then perfecting the sound of cross-over country music, Shania Twain entered the 2000s with her most exuberant and poppy album yet. But “Up!” is also a fascinating time capsule of the music industry on the precipice of a technological revolution that would send it into steep decline. In an attempt to capitalize on the outsized commercial success of Twain’s previous albums, her record label created three different versions of the album: a pop version, which came on a red disc; a country version, which came on a green disc; and a version in the style of Indian film music, which came on a blue disc. Upon its release, different versions or combinations of versions were tailored to different geographic regions around the world. The bizarre, Byzantine gambit worked — the record went 11 times platinum and landed Twain a halftime performance at the 2003 Super Bowl. Ultimately, “Up” was not Shania Twain’s best album, nor was it as commercially successful as “Come On Over.” But it demonstrated the enduring dominance of the unlikely superstar from Timmins. “Up!” was also the final album that Twain would make alongside her then-husband Mutt Lange. By the end of the decade, Twain and Lange had split, and Queen of Country Pop would recede from the spotlight for several years.
2003
Metric: “Old World Underground, Where Are You Now”
Looking back, the debut album from Toronto rock band Metric marked a rare instance where indie and mainstream sensibilities collided. Fronted by charismatic vocalist and keyboardist Emily Haines, the band threaded the needle between art-rock and radio rock, dabbling in new wave and post-punk while maintaining a lean approach to songwriting. For a brief time in 2003, you were as likely to hear “Combat Baby” and “Dead Disco” during your commute to work as you were to hear it at a sweaty basement party crammed full with hipsters decked out in primary coloured T-shirts from American Apparel. But there was an edge to “Old World Underground, Where Are You Now,” which arrived during the anxious early months of the Iraq War. “All we do is talk, sit, switch screens / As the homeland plans enemies,” Haines sneers on the politically charged “Succexy.” It’s a razor sharp line, one that feels just as resonant over two decades later.
Honourable 2003 mentions: Billy Talent: ”Billy Talent”, The Weakerthans: ”Reconstruction Site”
2004
Arcade Fire: “Funeral”
When “Funeral” dropped in the fall of 2004, it sounded both familiar and unlike anything else. The debut studio album from Arcade Fire — a scrappy, bohemian group of Montreal musicians — was ambitious and earnest, filled with songs that were artsy but accessible, angsty but euphoric. Arriving at the height of the post-punk revival led by groups like the Strokes and the White Stripes, Arcade Fire — fronted by husband and wife Win Butler and Régine Chassagne — paved the way for the kind of rock music that traded the irony and style of the big city for the unfashionable but emotionally complex feelings of suburban existence. The album — which produced five singles, including the monster indie jams “Rebellion (Lies)” and “Wake Up” — was among the most critically acclaimed albums of the 2000s. A few years later, that scrappy band would find themselves at the Grammys, the unlikely but deserving recipients of the Album of the Year.
Alexisonfire: “Watch Out!”
Alexisonfire proved that a band could be excessively noisy and brash, and still make a mark. Perhaps it was unique to Canadian palates at the time, but even to this day, heavier bands with screaming vocals and aggressive riffs don’t quite get the national airtime that Alexisonfire did in the latter half of the decade. This was not cheeky pop punk or your easygoing rock n’ roll, this was entirely something else. And we have 2004’s “Watch Out!” to thank for that.
If the St. Catharines, Ont., band’s 2002 self-titled album put them on the map, then “Watch Out!” is arguably their most important work — the band doesn’t make that kind of evolution without it, nor does Dallas Green (a.k.a. City and Colour), whose melodic pipes really start to shine on this album, become the household name he is today. “Watch Out!” was a crucial step in Alexisonfire elevating post-hardcore music to the national stage, giving us a sound that felt distinctly Canadian — one that is both angry and angelic, and gritty yet gentle. There’s still not quite anything like it. — Justin Smirlies
Honourable 2004 mention: k-os: “Joyful Rebellion”
2005
Cadence Weapon: “Breaking Kayfabe”
“Yo, it’s corrupt where I’m from / Edmonton, tough.” So spits Rollie Pemberton, a.k.a. Cadence Weapon, over a dizzying 8-bit production in the opening seconds of “Oliver Square,” the first track on his debut LP “Breaking Kayfabe.” Co-produced by Pemberton and electro-house pioneer Nik Kozub, the project juxtaposed Pemberton’s complex, twisted wordplay and gritty, hyperlocal storytelling with brash but entrancing beats that were at once retro and futuristic. When it arrived in 2005, “Breaking Kayfabe” sounded nothing like the hip hop coming out of Toronto or Vancouver, making Pemberton a Edmonton hero (in 2007, he was named the city’s Poet Laureate). But it also made waves south of the border, garnering critical acclaim in hip hop publications and across the blogosphere.
Wolf Parade: “Apologies To The Queen Mary”
There’s a lot from the aughts that didn’t age well, but Wolf Parade’s first record sounds as fresh today as it did 20 years ago. “Apologies to the Queen Mary” bursts at the seams with spiky guitars, yelping vocals and shape-shifting keys that at one point sound like a robot playing bagpipes. It’s a spastic and infinitely catchy post-new wave masterpiece, a scrappy record that helped solidify Montreal’s status as a burgeoning hub of indie talent. And it’s not just the lightning-in-a-bottle sound that still resonates (and the band never could top). For much of “Apologies,” dueling frontmen Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner sound like anxious Luddites, yearning for simpler times. (“Modern world,” Boeckner croons on the second track, ”I’m not pleased to meet you. You just bring me down.”) In an age of Big Tech domination, wobbly geopolitics and climate change, who can relate? — Ben Mussett
2006
Tragically Hip: “World Container”
By the mid-2000s, over two decades into their career, the Tragically Hip didn’t have much left to prove to their legion of loyal fans. In 2004, Gord Downie and the boys had decamped to Seattle to work with the prominent grunge producer Adam Kasper in what some saw as an effort to finally break through with American audiences. The resulting “In Between Evolution” was a decent, if a bit disjointed, hard rock album that failed to make a dent south of the border. For their follow-up, they returned north of the border to work for the first time with Canadian superproducer Bob Rock. The result, 2006’s “World Container,” was the sound of a band that seemed to rediscover their groove, free from the constraints of expectation. In fact, the Hip had never sounded as triumphant or joyous. “Yeah, it’s perfect / Well, it isn’t and it is” Downie sings on the remarkably poppy, chart-topping lead single “In View.” It’s difficult to imagine a more succinct way to describe the unique appeal of the scrappy rock band from Kingston who somehow managed to capture the heart of the whole country.
2007
Feist: “The Reminder”
In 2007, the world was introduced to Leslie Feist via the unlikely hit “1234. A buoyant, deceptively simple slice of indie pop, the song landed the Nova Scotia singer an iPod ad, four Grammy nominations and an appearance on Sesame Street. But “1234” — with its quaint, nursery rhyme hook — is something of an outlier on “The Reminder.” Equipped with a hushed but dynamic voice, and a knack for hiding juicy hooks within her lightly experimental songs, Feist’s third album revealed a songwriter with the compelling unpredictability comparable to the great Joni Mitchell project. Over the course of her career, Feist’s songwriting would continue to evolve and grow. But nearly two decades later, songs like “My Moon My Man” and “The Limit To Your Love” remain as compelling and mysterious as ever.
Jully Black: “Revival”
There are few Canadian artists with as much immediately tangible star power as Jully Black. The Toronto-born singer and actor was signed to a major record label when she was just 19, and quickly became one of the most in-demand collaborators, linking up local acts like Suakrates and Kardinal Offishall as well as international stars like Nas and Destiny’s Child. Black won her first Juno in 1997, and was nominated almost every subsequent year for the next decade. But it was on her second studio album, “Revival,” that Black truly stepped into her role as the Canadian Queen of R&B. Letting her voice glide effortlessly over sleekly modern production, “Revival” felt fresh but also had a timeless quality to it that hearkened back to the golden age of soul. With “Seven Day Fool,” Black injected new life into a lesser known Etta James song from the early 1960s, landing her first top 10 single and establishing herself as a household name.
Honourable 2007 mentions: Tegan and Sara: “The Con”,” Caribou: ”Andorra”
2008
Crystal Castles: “Crystal Castles (I)”
Emerging from Toronto’s grimy underground noise scene during the height of the so-called indie sleaze era, electronic duo Crystal Castles made an immediate splash with a self-titled LP that made you want to slam dance or crash violently through a wall. Dark, abrasive and utterly spellbinding, “Crystal Castles” discovered an intoxicating alchemy between Ethan Kath’s aggressive chiptune production and Alice Glass’ serrated vocals. “Sad eyes cry crimson blood,” Glass sneers over a whirring beat that sounds a bit like a dial-up connection on the gothic “Alice Practice.” The duo became an overnight success, and a mainstay on festival stages around the world until 2014, when Glass exited the band. Three years later, Crystal Castles imploded after Glass became the first of several women to accuse Kath of sexual misconduct. In 2020, Glass disavowed her work with Crystal Castles and asked fans to cease their support of the band.
Honourable 2008 mentions: Rural Alberta Advantage, “Hometowns,” Fucked Up: “The Chemistry of Common Life”
2009
Drake: “So Far Gone”
Listening to “So Far Gone” today makes it easy to forget about all the success and baggage that Drake has accrued over the past 15-odd years: the global hits, streaming records, gossip-generating trysts, bitter rap feuds, eruptions of violence and lawsuits. His 2009 breakout mixtape is a time capsule, transporting listeners to a simpler time, a time of BlackBerrys, Margiela tuxedos and Champagne flutes, when it was easy to root for the young, hungry rapper and former child star from Toronto, who, despite being a little cheesy, seemed predestined to conquer the world hip hop.
“My name is Drizzy, and I ain’t perfect / But I work hard, so I deserve it,” he raps on “Unforgettable.” Intoxicating, if a little bit jumbled, 18-song mixtape is snapshot of an artist still trying to figure out his sound. In addition to several guest verses from his mentor Lil Wayne and R&B singers like Trey Songz and Omarion, it also features appearances from aughts-era indie stars Santigold, Lykke Li and Peter Bjorn and John (and don’t forget the sample of Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida” that appears on the final track). And yet, the hallmarks of the Drake who would fundamentally shape the sound of 2010s hip hop were already here: moody, atmospheric production, seamless movement between rapping and singing, lyrics that combine petty braggadocio with affected vulnerability: ”Sweatpants, hair tied, chillin’ with no makeup on / That’s when you’re the prettiest / I hope that you don’t take it wrong,” Drake croons on “Best I Ever Had.” It’s the kind of line — syrupy and sentimental, but delivered with a sly wink — that only Drake could land. “So Far Gone” is not Drake’s finest effort, but it remains a thrilling document of a budding superstar on the edge of a meteoric ascent.
Honourable 2009 mention: Japandroids: “Post-Nothing”
