The latest Facebook meme is the one in which you're instructed to list "15 albums that had such a profound effect on you that they changed your life or the way you looked at it. They sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years. These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people emotions. These are the albums that no matter what they were thought of musically shaped your world."
(I'm not going to "tag" people with requests to post their own lists, because I figure they've all gotten an in-box full of requests by now already, and even if they didn't, nothing's stopping them from writing their own list and posting it anyway. I mean - good god, people, I know I'm a very important person, but you don't need my permission to do these things. I appreciate your checking with me first, though.)
The emergence of this chain-request happily coincided with my recent purchase of a 1 Terrabyte external hard drive. My plan was/is to finally consolodate all of my music collection in one location. As a result, I'm re-ripping all of my CDs at 320 kbps and transferring my bootleg collection from piles of DVD-Rs into their own directory. I'm finding that my archiving skills have been suspect at best - so many shows were duplicated on multiple DVDs, and I never kept a list to begin with ... After I rename all of my folders with artist name, performance dates, and locations of the shows, I'll post the file. It'll be impressive, I promise - probably 1000+ shows, before I even get to all of the Black Crowes and Guns N' Roses stuff that may require another hard drive. They're mostly in space-consuming/quality preserving .flac or .shn format, though, so another hard drive might be needed anyway ... which will just encourage me to download even MORE stuff that I'll never listen to. Then there are the video bootlegs on individual DVDs ... I have a problem, is what I'm saying.
But as far as my 15 albums go, I'm going to miss something somewhere, I'm sure, so it's quite possible this list will eventually be amended at some point. I also realize that there are no albums by Queen or Led Zeppelin on this list, and I freakin' LOVE Queen and Led Zeppelin, so go figure.
The list will probably be more chronological than anything, though upon drafting my list I realize that a majority of the artists listed below put out amazing records that I caught onto after the fact - The Replacements' "Tim" for instance, is a better record (and one I listen to more often) than "Don't Tell a Soul", but I "discovered" the 'Mats with "Don't Tell a Soul" (then worked backwards in their catalog), so it had more of a lasting effect on me.
I was born in 1974, so I'm sure I didn't become too aware of the concept of "popular music" until the mid-1980s. Until then, I listened to whatever my parents listened to, which was primarily the "oldies" station. This is painful to think about, because in the mid-80s, music from the 60s was already considered worthy of the title "oldies". Now, in 2009, GNR's "Appetite For Destruction" is 20+ years old, and ACDC's "Back in Black" is pushing 30 (and some people still consider Brian Johnson "the new guy", which I think is hysterical). Technically, by precedent, these albums are also now "oldies", which kinda freaks me out. I don't even like them to be considered "classic rock". I feel young physically (except the whole getting out of bed thing), but I'm feeling like I'm at least twice as old as I want to musically. On the other hand, when I hear what's "popular" today, I'm going to be a cranky old man anyway, because so much of it is absolutely terrible. GET OFF MY LAWN, FALL OUT BOY!
Though I grew up on the music of the 60s to an extent, very little of it had any lasting effect on me. I appreciate the Beatles and the Stones (though anything of theirs after the late 70s is pretty much a waste of my time, unfortunately), but I found deeper connections with more contemporary albums.
So the mid-80s is probably a great place to start.
1. "1984" - Van Halen
I could be mistaken, but I'm 99% sure that the first album (or cassette, actually) I ever bought with my own money was "1984". I didn't know anything about Van Halen prior to seeing the video for "Jump", because my folks didn't listen to "modern" FM rock stations. MTV came along, though, and changed everything. Synth or no, it's still my favorite VH record.
2. "Appetite for Destruction" - Guns N' Roses
Still sounds as fresh to me as the first time I heard it. This record came out in '87, so I was in junior high at the time. Though I don't think I could actually relate (then, or now for that matter) in a personal, first-hand kind of way to the great anger, frustration, and rebellion that Axl Rose lets loose on this record, I got (and still get) a rise out of the power of his voice and the perfect tones and melodies of Slash's solos. I'm still a huge Slash mark - the dude writes solos you can sing along with, you know? Not many people do that anymore. Plus, at the time, "hair bands" (Poison, Winger, Cinderella) were really popular, and these guys seemed so different, even though they were bunched in with those other horrible acts. Twenty-plus years later, this album stands tall while the others have fallen to the wayside.
3. "... And Justice For All" - Metallica
My brother, a year younger than me, was into Metallica by the time "Master of Puppets" was released. It took me a few years to catch on that they were more than just the noise I thought they were. When their first video for "One" came to MTV, I was impressed at the intensity, but I never bothered to listen to my brother's tapes. In a bold move at the time, because I had no regular source of income other than my paper route, I joined the BMG Music Club to expand my album library to include albums that weren't just radio-recorded nonsense. I had to pick 12 albums (for the price of one, with no further obligation to buy - ever!), so what the hell ... Metallica it was. I couldn't tell you what else I got, because I only remember listening to this one. Over, and over, and over. School was a 15-20 minute walk from my house, and this frequently accompanied my travels. I got on the bandwagon late, then had to wait another 20 years for it to come through my neighborhood again (Thanks again for "Death Magnetic"!)
4. "Dont Tell a Soul" - The Replacements
5. "Green" - REM
Would I have discovered these albums without Dave Kendall hosting MTV's "120 Minutes" every Sunday night at midnight? Probably, just not as soon as I did. I had many sleepy, blurry-eyed Monday mornings as a result of the show. My introduction to REM was their video for "Stand"; I bought the record, and realized it was far from the best track on it. To this day, I get excited every time I hear the Replacements' "I'll Be You". Two great records that made me realize that the best music wasn't necessarily that which could be found on the radio.
(If you'll excuse me for a moment while I pull my "grumpy old man" pants up to my nipples and shake my fist for a moment ...) See, kids, there used to be a really cool thing called "alternative music". It was kind of like today's "indie" scene, but a whole lot less pretensious and a helluva lot more creative. There were bands who didn't fit in to "mainstream" radio playlists and who weren't necessarily trying to look/act like/be "rock stars". They just played awesome, sometimes serious, sometimes quirky music and did their thing, not trying to become the "next big thing" in the post-tween demographic. What apparently passes as "alternative" today is essentially being an emo-based boy band that plays its own instruments and has horrible haircuts. "Alternative" music was really awesome for a while in the 90s, until the Red Hot Chili Peppers destroyed it with "Under the Bridge". I blame everything on them. I'm not joking even a little bit.
6. "Disintegration" - The Cure
Holy shit. I think this was the second CD I ever bought (more on the first in a moment).
There was a girl I knew in high school who had a Cure t-shirt, and our musical tastes overlapped at least a little bit (not much, but enough to hold up an occasional conversation). I was somewhat familiar with the video for "Love Song", but she recommended that I check out the whole album. In another act of financial daring, I threw down not for the cassette but for the CD instead because I'd gotten a stereo receiver unit (with built-in dual cassette players for dubbing, a CD player, and AM/FM antennas) for Christmas and could listen to my own music. This must have been in '88? Researching on Amazon, I see that the album came out in May '89, and I didn't get it until at least a couple months after it had been released, and I know I wouldn't have bought the CD if I couldn't listen to it in my own room ...
Anyway, getting the CD was a great choice because, even though my stereo was hardly state of the art, it was much better than the crappy tape deck I had. And if you know this record, you know that the album absolutely shimmers and sparkles when you listen to it. The production was so deep and wonderful, and it filled up my room with so many bits and pieces that I never would have heard on a tape. If you own it, throw it in and press play. It starts with a hint of chimes ringing lightly, and opens into an absolutely breathtaking epic of sound ... an absolutely gorgeous record, beginning to end.
The first CD? I'm sure of this one: "The Great Radio Controversy" by Tesla. No joke. Very different from "Disintegration", of course (not even in the same league, actually), but it's actually not a bad record, all things considered.
You know what also came out in 1989?
7. "The Real Thing" - Faith No More
Unfortunately, this was one of the most influential albums of the last 20 years.
But if you love it enough to have it on your list, Jim, why is it "unfortunate" that it was so influential?
Because every band who followed and tried their hand at a rap/rock fusion failed miserably, resulting in so much horrible music. What was so amazing on this record quickly mutated into beastly aural abortions such as Limp Bizkit. There is a direct, unfortunate line that links both of these albums. Somehow, my opinion of this album isn't tarnished, despite the havoc that it set loose upon the world.
"The Real Thing" was, as I understand it, recorded without vocals while the band searched for a new lead singer (their first, Chuck Mosely, left after their first album, "We Care A Lot" - the title track of which is now the theme song for "Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe". Weird.) Mike Patton came along, came up with the lyrics after listening to the instrumentals. Just add a flipping fish, and the rest is history!
8. "Shake Your Moneymaker" - The Black Crowes
I drove my friends crazy with this album - because when I had the wheel, I played this album again and again (nothing like the power of a high schooler driving his parents' white Subaru station wagon ... with a TAPE DECK!). Another MTV discovery - before "Hard to Handle" and "She Talks to Angels" became big hits, they attempted two other singles: "Twice as Hard" and "Jealous Again". I remember seeing the video for "Jealous Again" and remarking to my brother that they were the Izzy Stradlin'-est band I'd ever seen. They all looked like Izzy to me. I really dug the bluesy sound, though, and I got the record.
The first concert I ever went to was ZZ Top at the Worcester Centrum, but I didn't go because I wanted to see them. I wanted to see the Crowes, who were the opening act (before they got booted off the tour).
I've seen them at least 10 times since, and gotten to go backstage to meet them once (which would actually be a great story for its own blog entry someday). And I have so, so many bootlegs. Thank you, internets!
9. Nirvana - "Nevermind"
10. Pearl Jam - "Ten"
For anyone 33-40 years old, I'd say, these should probably just be a "gimme", like how contestants on "Wheel of Fortune" are automatically given R,S,T,L,N and E when trying to solve their final puzzles. It's just understood that most people are going to put one or both of these on their lists, so they shouldn't really count as "choices" in the first place.
It's hard to put the importance of "Nevermind" into the proper perspective for anyone who only knows Dave Grohl as a Foo Fighter. When "Smells Like Teen Spirit" hit, the direction of popular music changed literally instantaneously. The era of big hair ended, and flannel and canvas Chuck Taylor All-Stars replaced ripped jeans as the look-of-the-moment. Many bands took the verse-chorus-verse, soft-loud-soft approach before and after Nirvana's breakout (Nirvana took after the Pixies, for instance), but few had the dramatic, powerful results that they did.
It was also a matter of right place, right time, too. Hair bands were stale, and the young audience that bought into the "grunge" movement were energizing changes on a larger scale, too. After 12 years of Republican control of the White House, for exampe, the Clintons were on their way in. It was a perfect cultural storm, and Nirvana led the charge. Kurt Cobain never seemed comfortable with the attention, however, and didn't want to be a spokesman for any movement, no matter how responsible they were for it.
Pearl Jam, however, seemed happy to be such a voice - for the first year or two, at least, before Eddie Vedder seemingly forgot how to speak in complete sentences for a while, mumbling through interviews and deciding not to make videos for their songs.
As years have passed, I have to admit that the shine on "Ten" has faded a bit for me, though I still enjoy Pearl Jam on the whole.
11. "Singles" - soundtrack
I love this record. Love it, love it, love it. (With the exception of the Lovemongers' take on Led Zeppelin's "Battle of Evermore".) More Pearl Jam (two of their best songs ever are on this record, and aren't on any of their own albums) and other Seattle bands who led the grunge movement, Paul Westerberg of the Replacements, Smashing Pumpkins ... oh, man.
Not only was this the soundtrack of a movie, it essentially became the soundtrack to my college years. Friends I made, realizations I came to, girls I wanted to speak to more (but was, regretfully, ultimately too chicken) ... lots of memories (some great, some not so great) flood back when I listen to this CD.
Perhaps not an important record in the grand scheme of things, but it's definitely one that's near and dear to my heart.
12. Buffalo Tom - "Big Red Letter Day"
13. Morphine - "Cure For Pain"
14. Dinosaur Jr - "Where You Been"
One of the great side-effects of going to college in Boston was that my time there coincided with the rise in prominence of an incredible number of musicians and performers who were also locals to the scene. Dinosaur Jr was less Boston-based than Morphine or Buffalo Tom, so I didn't see them around much, but I'd get the free copy of the Boston Phoenix every week and scour the listings. So many great bands, so little money in my poor-student hands. Letters to Cleo played everywhere. The Bosstones were huge locally, but not yet nationally. And there were so many other bands that I would hear about every week on WFNX's "Local Product" or WBCN's "Boston Emissions" broadcasts that never got as famous as their counterparts - I really enjoyed Smackmelon, for instance. By brother got me into Bullet LaVolta a bit. And who didn't love (and slightly fear) a band called Scissorfight? If ever a band sounded the way their name would lead you believe they might, it was Scissorfight.
Buffalo Tom caught on nationally thanks to the TV show "My So Called Life" and the use of "Sodajerk" in a Nike commercial. Morphine drew critical acclaim at every turn with every one of their releases. Dinosaur Jr brought their giant guitar sound on tour with Lollapallooza. And, as a Bostonian, they were all mine. At least, as far as I was concered they were. I was happy to lay claim to them as Bostonians - much more so than I was to simply accept that Aerosmith and Extreme were the best my city could offer.
I'm still not sure I've ever been cool enough to deserve being a fan of Morphine's - that's some seriously sexy music for sexy people. Buffalo Tom was just an honest rock band with themes of love, loss, and wanting that I could relate to in a big way. Dinosaur Jr was all about melodies and guitars - giant, screaming guitars. Riff heaven, kids. And that awesome purple t-shirt, which I wore out and had to retire. I had that thing for 15+ years before accepting that I couldn't wear it in public anymore due to rips, stretches, and fading.
They've been a part of me ever since.
I can't believe it's been about a decade since Mark Sandman left us so unexpectedly (he died of a heart attack onstage in Italy). After he died, I went to a bunch of Orchestra Morphine shows at the Lizard Lounge and taped them ... I really should post them someday. Dana Colley was joined by a couple of other musicians to create a layered horn section that the original Morphine could only create on record. Laurie Sargent (whose "Streets of Fire" soundtrack contribution "Nowhere Fast" is *still* ever-present on my iPod) shared vocals. And I would sit or stand literally feet from them, wondering what they could be thinking as they performed the amazing songs that Mark had written before he died.
I went to the ceremony in Central Square that honored Mark by proclaiming the corner between the Middle East and Hi-Fi Pizza "Mark Sandman Square". I took a lot of pictures that day. I lived just outside of Central Square for a couple of years after that, and it always broke my heart a little bit to see that sign, to know that Mark was gone for real.
Buffalo Tom doesn't tour that much anymore and didn't put out any records for nine years between "Smitten" (1998) and "Three Easy Pieces" (2007), but I still listen to them all the time and have two of the exact same BT t-shirts in different colors in my regular clothing rotation. Don't know why I can't just pick one. Bill Janovitz, one of my favorite songwriters and all around nice guys, has slightly demoted himself to being a "Part Time Man of Rock", but he stays busy playing out regularly in Boston and treats his fans to his free "Cover of the Week" mp3 project on his blog. Plus, he's a friend of Theo and Peter, which makes me eternally jealous. If you're not sure who Theo and Peter are, realize that I'm a Red Sox fan, and maybe you'll figure it out.
15. "New Parade" - The Sheila Divine
Surprise! You knew it was on the list somewhere, right? It had to be.
This album resulted in me finding a new set of best friends after my old set of best friends (from college) all left Boston long before I did. I went to shows and slowly but surely found a network of comforting souls who shared similar interests and attitudes about being 20-something in the city. We hung out at shows at first - the front two or three rows in the center was usually where we would be found - but eventually started meeting up outside of music venues for drinks, or cookouts, or to go to the movies. Sometimes without a "ringleader" it can be awkward: if person A knows persons B and C, B and C might not speak to each other without A being around. Not with us. Everyone knew everyone, and we could all have fun no matter who was around. We were interchangable parts.
We would take road trips to Providence, or Portland (Maine), or New York City, or even that one driving trip to Buffalo. Whoever could be ready on time and fit in the car, we were ready to go. Sometimes we just had to jump on the subway - a show at the Sam Adams Brewery, or maybe at a restaurant near South Station, or those amazing New Years Eve shows at the Paradise.
The Sheila Divine was also responsible for my trip to Belgium; had they not been OK with me inviting myself along for their brief tour there, I wouldn't have gone. But by that point, in the summer of 2001, I was friendly with them and they found room in their tour van to drive me with them from town to town for their shows.
I had a blast. Always.
The band announced they were breaking up at just about the same time I was preparing to leave Boston and move to Portland (Oregon). They planned two farewell performances to take place about 8 weeks after I moved, and my friends - the ones who would share car seats or save a place at the bar for me - raised a collection to fly me back so I could be there, because it was important to me.
Because it was important to us.
My friend Alan recorded the shows and put out a terrific DVD for fans of the band, and toward the end of the show, there I am ... red faced and misty eyed. I'm no weirdo emo kid who cries at shows because that's what you're supposed to do at a Dashboard Confessional concert, but I was choked up because I knew that it was really over.
My time in Boston was done, the band who'd brought us all together was no more, and my time with this great group of friends who meant (and still mean) more to me than they could ever possibly know had come to an end.
All wrapped up with a lyric in "Automatic Buffalo":
... all that, and I haven't even mentioned the music yet. The album was so important to me personally that the music itself ranks second on my list of reasons why it was so vital in my life. That's got to count for something, right?
If you're interested, check out one of my pet projects, The Sheila Divine Archive.
(I'm not going to "tag" people with requests to post their own lists, because I figure they've all gotten an in-box full of requests by now already, and even if they didn't, nothing's stopping them from writing their own list and posting it anyway. I mean - good god, people, I know I'm a very important person, but you don't need my permission to do these things. I appreciate your checking with me first, though.)
The emergence of this chain-request happily coincided with my recent purchase of a 1 Terrabyte external hard drive. My plan was/is to finally consolodate all of my music collection in one location. As a result, I'm re-ripping all of my CDs at 320 kbps and transferring my bootleg collection from piles of DVD-Rs into their own directory. I'm finding that my archiving skills have been suspect at best - so many shows were duplicated on multiple DVDs, and I never kept a list to begin with ... After I rename all of my folders with artist name, performance dates, and locations of the shows, I'll post the file. It'll be impressive, I promise - probably 1000+ shows, before I even get to all of the Black Crowes and Guns N' Roses stuff that may require another hard drive. They're mostly in space-consuming/quality preserving .flac or .shn format, though, so another hard drive might be needed anyway ... which will just encourage me to download even MORE stuff that I'll never listen to. Then there are the video bootlegs on individual DVDs ... I have a problem, is what I'm saying.
But as far as my 15 albums go, I'm going to miss something somewhere, I'm sure, so it's quite possible this list will eventually be amended at some point. I also realize that there are no albums by Queen or Led Zeppelin on this list, and I freakin' LOVE Queen and Led Zeppelin, so go figure.
The list will probably be more chronological than anything, though upon drafting my list I realize that a majority of the artists listed below put out amazing records that I caught onto after the fact - The Replacements' "Tim" for instance, is a better record (and one I listen to more often) than "Don't Tell a Soul", but I "discovered" the 'Mats with "Don't Tell a Soul" (then worked backwards in their catalog), so it had more of a lasting effect on me.
I was born in 1974, so I'm sure I didn't become too aware of the concept of "popular music" until the mid-1980s. Until then, I listened to whatever my parents listened to, which was primarily the "oldies" station. This is painful to think about, because in the mid-80s, music from the 60s was already considered worthy of the title "oldies". Now, in 2009, GNR's "Appetite For Destruction" is 20+ years old, and ACDC's "Back in Black" is pushing 30 (and some people still consider Brian Johnson "the new guy", which I think is hysterical). Technically, by precedent, these albums are also now "oldies", which kinda freaks me out. I don't even like them to be considered "classic rock". I feel young physically (except the whole getting out of bed thing), but I'm feeling like I'm at least twice as old as I want to musically. On the other hand, when I hear what's "popular" today, I'm going to be a cranky old man anyway, because so much of it is absolutely terrible. GET OFF MY LAWN, FALL OUT BOY!
Though I grew up on the music of the 60s to an extent, very little of it had any lasting effect on me. I appreciate the Beatles and the Stones (though anything of theirs after the late 70s is pretty much a waste of my time, unfortunately), but I found deeper connections with more contemporary albums.
So the mid-80s is probably a great place to start.
1. "1984" - Van Halen
I could be mistaken, but I'm 99% sure that the first album (or cassette, actually) I ever bought with my own money was "1984". I didn't know anything about Van Halen prior to seeing the video for "Jump", because my folks didn't listen to "modern" FM rock stations. MTV came along, though, and changed everything. Synth or no, it's still my favorite VH record.
2. "Appetite for Destruction" - Guns N' Roses
Still sounds as fresh to me as the first time I heard it. This record came out in '87, so I was in junior high at the time. Though I don't think I could actually relate (then, or now for that matter) in a personal, first-hand kind of way to the great anger, frustration, and rebellion that Axl Rose lets loose on this record, I got (and still get) a rise out of the power of his voice and the perfect tones and melodies of Slash's solos. I'm still a huge Slash mark - the dude writes solos you can sing along with, you know? Not many people do that anymore. Plus, at the time, "hair bands" (Poison, Winger, Cinderella) were really popular, and these guys seemed so different, even though they were bunched in with those other horrible acts. Twenty-plus years later, this album stands tall while the others have fallen to the wayside.
3. "... And Justice For All" - Metallica
My brother, a year younger than me, was into Metallica by the time "Master of Puppets" was released. It took me a few years to catch on that they were more than just the noise I thought they were. When their first video for "One" came to MTV, I was impressed at the intensity, but I never bothered to listen to my brother's tapes. In a bold move at the time, because I had no regular source of income other than my paper route, I joined the BMG Music Club to expand my album library to include albums that weren't just radio-recorded nonsense. I had to pick 12 albums (for the price of one, with no further obligation to buy - ever!), so what the hell ... Metallica it was. I couldn't tell you what else I got, because I only remember listening to this one. Over, and over, and over. School was a 15-20 minute walk from my house, and this frequently accompanied my travels. I got on the bandwagon late, then had to wait another 20 years for it to come through my neighborhood again (Thanks again for "Death Magnetic"!)
4. "Dont Tell a Soul" - The Replacements
5. "Green" - REM
Would I have discovered these albums without Dave Kendall hosting MTV's "120 Minutes" every Sunday night at midnight? Probably, just not as soon as I did. I had many sleepy, blurry-eyed Monday mornings as a result of the show. My introduction to REM was their video for "Stand"; I bought the record, and realized it was far from the best track on it. To this day, I get excited every time I hear the Replacements' "I'll Be You". Two great records that made me realize that the best music wasn't necessarily that which could be found on the radio.
(If you'll excuse me for a moment while I pull my "grumpy old man" pants up to my nipples and shake my fist for a moment ...) See, kids, there used to be a really cool thing called "alternative music". It was kind of like today's "indie" scene, but a whole lot less pretensious and a helluva lot more creative. There were bands who didn't fit in to "mainstream" radio playlists and who weren't necessarily trying to look/act like/be "rock stars". They just played awesome, sometimes serious, sometimes quirky music and did their thing, not trying to become the "next big thing" in the post-tween demographic. What apparently passes as "alternative" today is essentially being an emo-based boy band that plays its own instruments and has horrible haircuts. "Alternative" music was really awesome for a while in the 90s, until the Red Hot Chili Peppers destroyed it with "Under the Bridge". I blame everything on them. I'm not joking even a little bit.
6. "Disintegration" - The Cure
Holy shit. I think this was the second CD I ever bought (more on the first in a moment).
There was a girl I knew in high school who had a Cure t-shirt, and our musical tastes overlapped at least a little bit (not much, but enough to hold up an occasional conversation). I was somewhat familiar with the video for "Love Song", but she recommended that I check out the whole album. In another act of financial daring, I threw down not for the cassette but for the CD instead because I'd gotten a stereo receiver unit (with built-in dual cassette players for dubbing, a CD player, and AM/FM antennas) for Christmas and could listen to my own music. This must have been in '88? Researching on Amazon, I see that the album came out in May '89, and I didn't get it until at least a couple months after it had been released, and I know I wouldn't have bought the CD if I couldn't listen to it in my own room ...
Anyway, getting the CD was a great choice because, even though my stereo was hardly state of the art, it was much better than the crappy tape deck I had. And if you know this record, you know that the album absolutely shimmers and sparkles when you listen to it. The production was so deep and wonderful, and it filled up my room with so many bits and pieces that I never would have heard on a tape. If you own it, throw it in and press play. It starts with a hint of chimes ringing lightly, and opens into an absolutely breathtaking epic of sound ... an absolutely gorgeous record, beginning to end.
The first CD? I'm sure of this one: "The Great Radio Controversy" by Tesla. No joke. Very different from "Disintegration", of course (not even in the same league, actually), but it's actually not a bad record, all things considered.
You know what also came out in 1989?
7. "The Real Thing" - Faith No More
Unfortunately, this was one of the most influential albums of the last 20 years.
But if you love it enough to have it on your list, Jim, why is it "unfortunate" that it was so influential?
Because every band who followed and tried their hand at a rap/rock fusion failed miserably, resulting in so much horrible music. What was so amazing on this record quickly mutated into beastly aural abortions such as Limp Bizkit. There is a direct, unfortunate line that links both of these albums. Somehow, my opinion of this album isn't tarnished, despite the havoc that it set loose upon the world.
"The Real Thing" was, as I understand it, recorded without vocals while the band searched for a new lead singer (their first, Chuck Mosely, left after their first album, "We Care A Lot" - the title track of which is now the theme song for "Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe". Weird.) Mike Patton came along, came up with the lyrics after listening to the instrumentals. Just add a flipping fish, and the rest is history!
8. "Shake Your Moneymaker" - The Black Crowes
I drove my friends crazy with this album - because when I had the wheel, I played this album again and again (nothing like the power of a high schooler driving his parents' white Subaru station wagon ... with a TAPE DECK!). Another MTV discovery - before "Hard to Handle" and "She Talks to Angels" became big hits, they attempted two other singles: "Twice as Hard" and "Jealous Again". I remember seeing the video for "Jealous Again" and remarking to my brother that they were the Izzy Stradlin'-est band I'd ever seen. They all looked like Izzy to me. I really dug the bluesy sound, though, and I got the record.
The first concert I ever went to was ZZ Top at the Worcester Centrum, but I didn't go because I wanted to see them. I wanted to see the Crowes, who were the opening act (before they got booted off the tour).
I've seen them at least 10 times since, and gotten to go backstage to meet them once (which would actually be a great story for its own blog entry someday). And I have so, so many bootlegs. Thank you, internets!
9. Nirvana - "Nevermind"
10. Pearl Jam - "Ten"
For anyone 33-40 years old, I'd say, these should probably just be a "gimme", like how contestants on "Wheel of Fortune" are automatically given R,S,T,L,N and E when trying to solve their final puzzles. It's just understood that most people are going to put one or both of these on their lists, so they shouldn't really count as "choices" in the first place.
It's hard to put the importance of "Nevermind" into the proper perspective for anyone who only knows Dave Grohl as a Foo Fighter. When "Smells Like Teen Spirit" hit, the direction of popular music changed literally instantaneously. The era of big hair ended, and flannel and canvas Chuck Taylor All-Stars replaced ripped jeans as the look-of-the-moment. Many bands took the verse-chorus-verse, soft-loud-soft approach before and after Nirvana's breakout (Nirvana took after the Pixies, for instance), but few had the dramatic, powerful results that they did.
It was also a matter of right place, right time, too. Hair bands were stale, and the young audience that bought into the "grunge" movement were energizing changes on a larger scale, too. After 12 years of Republican control of the White House, for exampe, the Clintons were on their way in. It was a perfect cultural storm, and Nirvana led the charge. Kurt Cobain never seemed comfortable with the attention, however, and didn't want to be a spokesman for any movement, no matter how responsible they were for it.
Pearl Jam, however, seemed happy to be such a voice - for the first year or two, at least, before Eddie Vedder seemingly forgot how to speak in complete sentences for a while, mumbling through interviews and deciding not to make videos for their songs.
As years have passed, I have to admit that the shine on "Ten" has faded a bit for me, though I still enjoy Pearl Jam on the whole.
11. "Singles" - soundtrack
I love this record. Love it, love it, love it. (With the exception of the Lovemongers' take on Led Zeppelin's "Battle of Evermore".) More Pearl Jam (two of their best songs ever are on this record, and aren't on any of their own albums) and other Seattle bands who led the grunge movement, Paul Westerberg of the Replacements, Smashing Pumpkins ... oh, man.
Not only was this the soundtrack of a movie, it essentially became the soundtrack to my college years. Friends I made, realizations I came to, girls I wanted to speak to more (but was, regretfully, ultimately too chicken) ... lots of memories (some great, some not so great) flood back when I listen to this CD.
Perhaps not an important record in the grand scheme of things, but it's definitely one that's near and dear to my heart.
12. Buffalo Tom - "Big Red Letter Day"
13. Morphine - "Cure For Pain"
14. Dinosaur Jr - "Where You Been"
One of the great side-effects of going to college in Boston was that my time there coincided with the rise in prominence of an incredible number of musicians and performers who were also locals to the scene. Dinosaur Jr was less Boston-based than Morphine or Buffalo Tom, so I didn't see them around much, but I'd get the free copy of the Boston Phoenix every week and scour the listings. So many great bands, so little money in my poor-student hands. Letters to Cleo played everywhere. The Bosstones were huge locally, but not yet nationally. And there were so many other bands that I would hear about every week on WFNX's "Local Product" or WBCN's "Boston Emissions" broadcasts that never got as famous as their counterparts - I really enjoyed Smackmelon, for instance. By brother got me into Bullet LaVolta a bit. And who didn't love (and slightly fear) a band called Scissorfight? If ever a band sounded the way their name would lead you believe they might, it was Scissorfight.
Buffalo Tom caught on nationally thanks to the TV show "My So Called Life" and the use of "Sodajerk" in a Nike commercial. Morphine drew critical acclaim at every turn with every one of their releases. Dinosaur Jr brought their giant guitar sound on tour with Lollapallooza. And, as a Bostonian, they were all mine. At least, as far as I was concered they were. I was happy to lay claim to them as Bostonians - much more so than I was to simply accept that Aerosmith and Extreme were the best my city could offer.
I'm still not sure I've ever been cool enough to deserve being a fan of Morphine's - that's some seriously sexy music for sexy people. Buffalo Tom was just an honest rock band with themes of love, loss, and wanting that I could relate to in a big way. Dinosaur Jr was all about melodies and guitars - giant, screaming guitars. Riff heaven, kids. And that awesome purple t-shirt, which I wore out and had to retire. I had that thing for 15+ years before accepting that I couldn't wear it in public anymore due to rips, stretches, and fading.
They've been a part of me ever since.
I can't believe it's been about a decade since Mark Sandman left us so unexpectedly (he died of a heart attack onstage in Italy). After he died, I went to a bunch of Orchestra Morphine shows at the Lizard Lounge and taped them ... I really should post them someday. Dana Colley was joined by a couple of other musicians to create a layered horn section that the original Morphine could only create on record. Laurie Sargent (whose "Streets of Fire" soundtrack contribution "Nowhere Fast" is *still* ever-present on my iPod) shared vocals. And I would sit or stand literally feet from them, wondering what they could be thinking as they performed the amazing songs that Mark had written before he died.
I went to the ceremony in Central Square that honored Mark by proclaiming the corner between the Middle East and Hi-Fi Pizza "Mark Sandman Square". I took a lot of pictures that day. I lived just outside of Central Square for a couple of years after that, and it always broke my heart a little bit to see that sign, to know that Mark was gone for real.
Buffalo Tom doesn't tour that much anymore and didn't put out any records for nine years between "Smitten" (1998) and "Three Easy Pieces" (2007), but I still listen to them all the time and have two of the exact same BT t-shirts in different colors in my regular clothing rotation. Don't know why I can't just pick one. Bill Janovitz, one of my favorite songwriters and all around nice guys, has slightly demoted himself to being a "Part Time Man of Rock", but he stays busy playing out regularly in Boston and treats his fans to his free "Cover of the Week" mp3 project on his blog. Plus, he's a friend of Theo and Peter, which makes me eternally jealous. If you're not sure who Theo and Peter are, realize that I'm a Red Sox fan, and maybe you'll figure it out.
15. "New Parade" - The Sheila Divine
Surprise! You knew it was on the list somewhere, right? It had to be.
This album resulted in me finding a new set of best friends after my old set of best friends (from college) all left Boston long before I did. I went to shows and slowly but surely found a network of comforting souls who shared similar interests and attitudes about being 20-something in the city. We hung out at shows at first - the front two or three rows in the center was usually where we would be found - but eventually started meeting up outside of music venues for drinks, or cookouts, or to go to the movies. Sometimes without a "ringleader" it can be awkward: if person A knows persons B and C, B and C might not speak to each other without A being around. Not with us. Everyone knew everyone, and we could all have fun no matter who was around. We were interchangable parts.
We would take road trips to Providence, or Portland (Maine), or New York City, or even that one driving trip to Buffalo. Whoever could be ready on time and fit in the car, we were ready to go. Sometimes we just had to jump on the subway - a show at the Sam Adams Brewery, or maybe at a restaurant near South Station, or those amazing New Years Eve shows at the Paradise.
The Sheila Divine was also responsible for my trip to Belgium; had they not been OK with me inviting myself along for their brief tour there, I wouldn't have gone. But by that point, in the summer of 2001, I was friendly with them and they found room in their tour van to drive me with them from town to town for their shows.
I had a blast. Always.
The band announced they were breaking up at just about the same time I was preparing to leave Boston and move to Portland (Oregon). They planned two farewell performances to take place about 8 weeks after I moved, and my friends - the ones who would share car seats or save a place at the bar for me - raised a collection to fly me back so I could be there, because it was important to me.
Because it was important to us.
My friend Alan recorded the shows and put out a terrific DVD for fans of the band, and toward the end of the show, there I am ... red faced and misty eyed. I'm no weirdo emo kid who cries at shows because that's what you're supposed to do at a Dashboard Confessional concert, but I was choked up because I knew that it was really over.
My time in Boston was done, the band who'd brought us all together was no more, and my time with this great group of friends who meant (and still mean) more to me than they could ever possibly know had come to an end.
All wrapped up with a lyric in "Automatic Buffalo":
So if I walk outSo yeah, it was more than a little emotional.
and if I walk out
Then it's c'est la vie
I'll be history
... all that, and I haven't even mentioned the music yet. The album was so important to me personally that the music itself ranks second on my list of reasons why it was so vital in my life. That's got to count for something, right?
If you're interested, check out one of my pet projects, The Sheila Divine Archive.
