As far as music goes, 2005 was all about the official start of the death march for the traditional recording industry, as CD sales spiraled ever downward and iTunes crept into the list of top ten music retailers in the world, surpassing longstanding chains like Tower Records and Sam Goody. That slow, funereal parade continued through 2006.

But other than that, there isn’t much to talk about this year. No shocking tragedies, no blockbuster albums, no miraculous reunions or heartbreaking disbandings. No new band came along to reaffirm universal critical faith in rock’n’roll, so journalists reverted to the old standby: Bob Dylan. And aside from music consumerism’s continuing shift toward digitization, there were no prevailing trends to speak of. To quote The Simpsons, there was no moral to this story — “just a bunch of stuff that happened.” So here’s some stuff that happened.

Something resembling Sly Stone emerges from seclusion during Grammy tribute

At first, it seemed like it could be awesome. After spending almost two decades in isolation, presumably recording music the world will never hear, going on coke binges and possibly collecting jars of his own urine, Sly Stone, the original rainbow funk radical, left his Fortress of Solitude to perform in a tribute to his legendary group, the Family Stone, at the Grammy Awards in Los Angeles. Backed by the original band (sans bassist Larry Graham) and flanked by the likes of Steven Tyler and John Legend, Stone shuffled out onstage, rocking a foot-tall peroxide blonde mohawk, shades, a shimmering silver suit and, in case there was any doubt, an enormous belt buckle with “SLY” written across it. Pretty cool, right? But, as he positioned himself behind a keyboard and the band went into “I Want To Take You Higher,” the moment went from amusingly odd to tragically awkward. Hunched over with his hand in a cast, he gingerly mashed the keys, sang into a barely audible microphone and never once acknowledged the people around him. Then, after a single verse, he threw up a peace sign, exited stage right and beamed back up to whatever planet he had just dropped down from. And that was it. It sucks to say, but the next time we hear from Sly may be on the obits page. Or when Chinese Democracy is released. Whichever comes first.

Bank account of guy who blew brains out passes that of guy who died on toilet

Leave it to a country as materialistic and morbid as America to actually track something like Top Earning Dead Celebrity. And leave it to a country as obsessed with fame as us to keep these stiffs rich long after their demise — and leave it to somebody as fascinated with celebrity, death and odd factoids as myself to actually place this note in a year in review piece. Dethroning reigning four-time king, Elvis Presley, is, amazingly, Kurt Cobain! According to Forbes, Courtney Love, as usual, is to blame: She sold off a quarter of her stake in her ex-husband’s catalog to a music publishing company, meaning we could soon hear “Lithium” in an ad for Zoloft. Thanks for that, Court. Meanwhile, Tupac got shut out of the top ten, despite releasing his tenth posthumous album this year. Get back in the studio, Pac!

Syd Barrett dies … again

A show of hands: Who here thought Syd Barrett died in the late ’60s? Thank you, please return your hands to a folded position. In the public consciousness, at least, Barrett, acid casualty, psyche-folk weirdo-genius and Pink Floyd’s original frontman, had indeed passed away for years before actually succumbing to diabetes on July 7 at age 60. Exhausted by his increasingly nutzoid behavior, the other guys in Floyd jettisoned Barrett not long after he masterminded their brilliant debut, 1967’s The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, and started writing elegiac songs about how much they missed him and wished he was still here. No wonder everyone thought he was already dead. Admittedly, Barrett didn’t do much to challenge that perception. His legitimate mental illness exacerbated by intense chemical experimentation, he walled himself inside his mother’s home in Cambridge in the mid- ’70s and basically never came out again. Before he went into hiding, however, his label did coerce him into recording two solo albums that are simultaneously great, frightening and borderline exploitative: his madness in full flower, you can practically hear his mind falling apart. Learning of his death did not come so much as a shock but a relief, knowing he no longer has to be a prisoner behind the doors of perception. Shine on, you crazy-ass diamond!

Lou Reed appears on MTV Video Music Awards — does not mainline onstage, unfortunately

MTV has set the bar mighty high when it comes to award show moments: the Britney-Madonna tongue kiss, the Michael Jackson-Lisa Marie Presley fake tongue kiss, Eminem assaulting a hand puppet, etc. So, in terms of water cooler discussion, Lou Reed coming out with Pink to present Best Rock Video and jamming with “house band” the Raconteurs on “White Light/White Heat” at this year’s ceremony ranks rather low. But consider this: It’s Lou Reed! On MTV! Doing a song about the joys of shooting speed! And handing a Moon Man to AFI! Crammed between performances by the Pussycat Dolls and the All-American Rejects, his presence was easily the most notable part of an otherwise completely forgettable broadcast. Of course, three-quarters of the people watching were probably wondering what Jack White’s grandfather was doing onstage.

YouTube, MeTube, WeAllTube

It began with two guys rapping about cupcakes and The Chronicles of Narnia and ended with … well, take your pick: that freaky pop-locking midget? Michael Richards’ racist rant? Macaca? If there is anything 2006 will be remembered for, it is the ascension of YouTube as the dumping ground for the planet’s optical waste. The addictive website, which rose to prominence on the back of the popular Saturday Night Live sketch “Lazy Sunday,” took over cyberspace this year and democratized visual media the way Napster did for recorded music and MySpace for pedophilia, violating several hundred copyright laws in the process. Initially, users just uploaded stupid crap they filmed their friends doing while stoned. Eventually, though, audiophiles learned to harness the server’s power, and now the site is a treasure trove of long-forgotten videos, live performances and other musical oddities. It has even become a valuable promotional tool: terrible power-pop group OK Go, for instance, owe all 15 minutes of their fame to that choreographed treadmill dance clip they financed and posted themselves. Ah, the Internet — continuing to make the physical world obsolete, one bum fight at a time.

Favorites of 2006

Favorite Album: Goldfrapp, Supernature

Glittering disco balls, flying horses, razor-scratched mirrored table tops — Supernature evokes a lot of things. Apparently, advertisers from Coke and Target, who both used Goldfrapp songs in commercials this year, also thought it conjured up images of dirt-brown soft drinks and cheap bath towels as well. Still, the fact that big-time companies would mine the album for jingles proves just how utterly infectious it is. Producer Will Gregory and singer Alison Goldfrapp created their own universe and invited the rest of us in for drinks. “Ooh La La” thumps, “Let It Take You” floats, “Number 1” seduces and the whole thing sparkles with electro-glam allure.

Favorite Single: T.I., What You Know

Not as ubiquitous as Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” nor as deliberately pop-centric as 2005’s inescapable, hands-down song of the year, Kanye West’s “Gold Digger,” “What You Know” does strike the perfect balance between T.I.’s effortless swagger and producer DJ Toomp’s obvious effort to make this shit into an anthem. Supposedly, this is a dis track targeted at fellow Southern rapper Lil’ Flip, but honestly, the dude could be reading from the menu at a Chinese restaurant for all it matters. What you know ‘bout that synth line on the chorus, though? That, along with the Young Jeezy-ish “Heys!” punctuating the verses, is what lifts the song above mere hit and into classic territory.

Favorite Music DVD: We Jam Econo: The Story of the Minutemen

A lot of times, a documentary is only as interesting as its subjects. And in the history of punk, few bands were ever as fascinating as the Minutemen. Director Tim Irwin deserves credit for figuring out that the story of these three quirky guys from San Pedro is worth telling, but really, all he had to do was point a camera at ever-entertaining bassist Mike Watt and let him spiel for a couple hours. We Jam Econo itself is tremendous, but here’s the real kicker: the second disc features three complete live shows, including an entire cross-legged acoustic set. Awesome!

Favorite Concert: Devo at the Canyon in Agoura Hills, Jan. 15

How could four 50-something guys (and one younger drummer-for-hire) in yellow coveralls with red flower pots on their heads put on the best show of 2006? Simple: By playing music that was decades ahead of its time to begin with. What also made Devo’s three-night residency at the Canyon so spectacular is that there was no trace of desperation in it. They were not promoting a new album; they weren’t even on tour. Basically, the band had no reason to be there other than to play, and that looseness translated on stage in a way you don’t get from groups, new or old, who go out there with something to prove. Plus, I stood two feet away from Sting backstage.