Blur – The Universal
I heard this song once and remembered it for years. The swell of the chorus, the sweetness of the melody, the lyrics so strange, so specific, so slippery, meaning the universe but also maybe nothing, other than the joy of music, sweet music, perfect for the soundtrack of the movie of my life. But 1995: No downloads. No money. All I could do was love it unrequitedly, waiting to hear it one more time. Finally, I found it, in 2003, a bootlegged cassette to rewind and play again, twice and thrice and hundreds of times. I didn’t love in vain.
The New Radicals – You Get What You Give
The artist and title are trivia answers, one more wonderful one-hit wonder. The song itself is a series of questions: What does the perfect pop song sound like? Can humans capture joy on tape? How many synonyms can Matthew Webber use to describe how this song makes him feel? (Effervescent, jubilant, ultraviolet, toothy…) Do words even matter when the music’s so… good? I’d give my fingers and larynx to have written this, as long as I could keep my ears, so I could enjoy its perfection again. (Buoyant, zippy, maniacal, darling…) Did the artist get as much as he gave?
Guns N’ Roses – November Rain
Sometimes rock stars understand. When art and ambition align in their heavens, when poems and pianos pour out of their hearts, when used-up illusions – delusions? – of grandeur trick them into thinking they know what we want, sometimes they give us the music we need. Especially if you’re young, and you think you’re in love, but your candle is out, and you can’t stand the rain, and you can’t stand November, it’s not a cliché. It’s new and specific and written for you. It’s epic, mythological, from time immemorial. And when that solo kicks your ass, you understand what love is.
Brandi Carlile – Fall Apart Again
Many lines glance, but this one’s a gut punch: “I think the world of myself, but the world doesn’t think much of me.” If, on paper, it doesn’t steal your breath, listen to it in her own breathless voice, choking on fear and swallowing pride. Listen to the other lines of friendship, falling, failing. Listen to me as I chronicle the damage, in 100-word reviews that nobody reads, in three-minute tunes that nobody hears, while slaving in an office reading other people’s words, flailing again and again. I used to think I’d beat the world, until it beat me bloody.
Fiona Apple – Shadowboxer
This is the sound I’ve chased ever since: Pounding piano, almost percussive. Sultry voice, her lips, my ears. Lyrics that catch in my throat when I sing them, line after line I’d love to have written – the imagery! the wordplay! the metaphors! the heartbreak! – but still love to hear in my home, in my car, especially from the stage with the singer almost bleeding… I stalk this sound in stores, on the Internet, especially when talking and sharing and stealing… What do I listen to? What do I like? What enraptures? What beguiles? No wrong answer, but this comes close.
The Notorious B.I.G. – Gimme the Loot
This song scares the shit out of me. It isn’t the topic, the stuff of gangsta fantasy. It isn’t the beat, so ominous, so menacing. Instead, it’s the glee with which Biggie narrates, the obvious pride in his murderous flow, the laughter that threatens to puncture the shell. It’s an epic poem of vengeance and vast ultraviolence, with Biggie making villainy vicarious and loveable. He raps in different voices from different points of view. He drops the all-time baddest boast: “Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt.” Truth or fiction, this story kills. I’m lucky I’m alive.
The Carpenters – Superstar
Dear Karen,
Did anyone ever love you so much, their mouth so full of desperation? Did anyone ever call you “baby” – and “baby, baby, baby, baby, oh baby” – so many times it scared you, yet soothed you, fearing your aloneness was perpetual, yet mutual? How could you sound so much like a woodwind – rich, symphonic, blustery, beautiful – and still sound like a human being – fragile, needy, defiant, contradictory? How can your voice – and you – seem so huggable? Surely someone sang for you, just as you sang for everyone else, just as you still sing out to me. Baby, baby, baby…
The Smiths – This Charming Man
Pop Quiz
1) The guitar lick is…
a) slinky.
b) jaunty.
c) boppable.
d) charming.
2) “Punctured bicycle, on a hillside, desolate” is…
a) an image so tangible, I want to reach out and touch it…
b) …and yet it remains just slightly out of reach, spinning like a movie reel.
c) a metaphor for loneliness. Duh.
d) the all-time best opening line. Don’t argue.
3) This song is about…
a) child abduction and Stockholm Syndrome.
b) a curbside pickup, not of trash.
c) the wit and wisdom of an older man, possibly ironic.
d) anything; whatever; you tell me.
Kermit the Frog – The Rainbow Connection
1) The music begins. The boy starts to dance. He doesn’t move his feet, but he sways in one spot. He shakes his knees, his hips, his butt. His parents record this, blackmail for later.
2) The man flips through his record collection, seeking a dog-eared, musty sleeve, the only album saved from his parents’ collection. He finds the familiar picture of a rainbow, wipes off the dust, and anticipates the magic: the needle, the crackle, the banjo, the frog. Gentle and dreamy, nostalgic yet now, the music overtakes him as it’s done for 30 years. Is he swaying? Maybe.
Salt-N-Pepa – Shoop
Clearly, these aren’t the all-time best songs. They’re merely my favorites, my personal bests. So, when I insist this is my best karaoke jam (“the cutest brother in here” doesn’t need the lyrics), my best wedding rap-along, and apparently one of the best ways to remind people of me when they hear it, all I’m asserting is, hey, I like it. Scratch that. I love it! It’s not a guilty pleasure; I don’t feel any guilt. It’s merely a pleasure. It’s fun. It’s catchy. When it’s on, I forget to be critical, cynical. I sometimes giggle. I always feel alive.
February 6, 2010
January 30, 2010
The Year in Tweets: Movies
Notorious: Hot raps, lukewarm film. Violence = bad = unearned epiphany. Biggie's music was more cinematic.
Taken: Preposterous, violent, not my kind of movie. Possibly rad if you like that kind of thing. Moral: Don't fuck with Liam. Kapow!
He's Just Not...: Not that inspired, but not that terrible. I'm just not the target audience. I left w/ a crush on Ginnifer G.
Watchmen: Whizbang porn for fan boys. Yes! Worse than the book, but duh. Still awesome.
I Love You Man: Dude, don't think, just go & laugh. I love you, Paul Rudd. I love you, Rush cameo.
Adventureland: Sweet, amusing, nostalgic, touching. A Michael Cera movie w/out Michael Cera. 80s pop songs steal the show.
Sunshine Cleaning: Not just quirky for quirky's sake. Gore-free scenes are hardest hitting. Amy Adams inspires a song!
Observe & Report: Laughs that catch in your throat. (Um, rape?) Humor so dark it's only sometimes humorous.
Informers: Pretty surface, rotten core. LA, the city of fallen angels. No redemption, just like the book. Killing my soul vicariously.
State of Play: Fat R. Crowe & cute R. McAdams fight the power & eulogize papers. Good-for-u thriller is thrilling but forgettable.
17 Again: I maybe saw this. It maybe warmed the heart of this 30-yr-old cynic. I don't hate Zac for being young; in fact, I maybe like him.
Being Bucky: Lightweight doc about being a mascot. No real story arc, but so what? It's fun.
Soloist: Yet another film about the power of music (w/ Foxx bringing the crazy). Somewhat predictable, but not completely powerless.
Star Trek: Flashy fun for this nonfan. Gateway to geekery. Glad I saw it.
Sugar: Not in the same ballpark as a common baseball flick. Not even in the same league. The players and story are realer, more poignant.
Up: Sepia section is saddest thing ever. Everything else is vibrant, breezy. Rises above most other cartoons, even other films.
Pixar: It's more like a great director than a studio. It's never let me down.
Angels & Demons: Bigger bombs, faster chases, slightly less over-explanatory blah-blah. In other words, better than Da Vinci, thank God.
The Hangover: Hilarious. (No need for more characters.)
Year One: So glad I didn't pay $ for this. Failed to meet even my lowest expectations. Jumbled plot + stilted acting + lame gags = comedy?
Public Enemies: Depp, Bale, fedoras, jazz... bullets whiz & rattattat... edge of seat & armrest grip... So why muck it up w/ lukewarm love?
500 Days of Summer: There's never been a movie more targeted to me. Zooey's adorable, Joe's all mopey, mixtapes R made, hearts R broken.
Away We Go: Targeted to me in 3-5 years. Subtle script, acting, cinematography. An intimate look at intimacy en route.
Whatever Works: Not this film. Woody hates ppl, characters, audience. Misanthropy trumps the few funny moments.
HP6: Grownup actors snog like kids. Funniest Potter film possibly, pal. Fans will luv it, nonfans might not. I'm a fan, so yes.
Bruno: Outrageous. But not as much as he thinks. See it for the wrestling, the velcro & the penis.
Beth Cooper: One crazy night w/ luvable Hayden! Another teen movie? LOL! Somewhat cliche & worse than book, but fun for any age.
Just finished The Lovely Bones. Lovely! Up next, The Road. Prepping to argue books v. movies.
Julie & Julia: Light & tasty dessert of a film. Makes me wanna blog like it's 2002.
Bandslam: Indie-ish film w/ 2 Disney princesses. Tonal problems, but fun nonetheless, w/ least believable Bowie plug ever.
Inglourious Basterds: Best film of '09 so far. At least 3rd best of Quentin's career. Glourious splatter, intrigue & revenge.
District 9: Alien ghetto = xenophobic metaphor. Thrilling, thought-provoking & strangely close to home.
Hurt Locker: Vicarious hurt. It's like you're at war. No agenda, just soldiers' grit.
Extract: Less than Office Space, more than other comedies. Absurd, realistic, LOL funny.
Ponyo: Slower & stranger than American toons. Beautiful images, fairytale sweetness, dreamy dreams of H20. Little Mermaid sans song, dance.
Jennifer's Body: Horror, humor & feminist subtext, not as profound as Hole song of title. But Megan is foxy, film is fun, esp. to analyze.
Bright Star: Costume drama more costume than drama. But pastel pastorale is pretty as a painting.
The Informant!: Best voiceover since Adaptation! Best ! since Oil! Funny thriller invents new genre! Fat Matt Damon: check!
Zombieland: Awesome! Totally awesome!!
Invention of Lying: & religion & advertising & relationships. Funny moments, truths abound, but film more honest discussing than watching.
Whip It: Best roller derby movie ever. 4-wheel fun for women (& men).
WTWTA: Still processing 3 days later. Emo, existential, scary, beautiful. Joy & rage, a journey home. Monsters wow, death talk frightens.
Capitalism: A Love Story: Michael Moore repeats himself.
A Serious Man: Coens get serious, grapple w/ God, reward the faith of serious film fans. See if you like the Coens, or film. O the ending!
Chariots of Fire: I luv running, I luv films. This running film? I hated it. Beautifully shot but pulls up lame. 2 much slo-mo. Much 2 slow.
The Box: Fascinating quandary ruined by Martians. & alternate worlds. & time travel. Or something. Spooky mood wins. Ur mind'll b blown.
Men Who Stare @ Goats: Intelligent romp re: US intelligence. If goats were harmed in making of film, goats didn't die in vain.
An Education: An education in storytelling (Nick Hornby) & acting (lovely Carey Mulligan). Young exuberance turns to wisdom. Entertaining.
Fantastic Mr Fox: Breezy! Handcrafted w/ care. Makes u wanna touch the screen, if not climb in & play. First fun W. Anderson pic. Fantastic!
This Is It: The king of behind-the-scenes concert docs. Loved last chance to watch Him dance.
Blind Side: Hollywood sentiment choked me up. Must b getting sappy in my old age. Family film my whole fam enjoyed.
Precious: Bleak, bleaker, bleakest. Ur bleeding heart will break. Intense, unforgettable, gritty, real. Is happy ending possible?
Amadeus: Mozart's passion, Salieri's obsession, both ring true today. Almost as timeless as soundtrk.
Avatar: Dances w/ Blacklight Poster. Borrowed plot, hack dialog but stunning, immersive, fluorescent visuals.
Me & Orson Welles: The guy who plays Welles steals each scene, but boyish Efron holds his own. Sometimes pretty boys grow up to be actors.
Brothers: Natalie, Jake, Tobey love, mourn, go crazy. Trailer almost ruined it by giving away best scenes; other scenes are less intense.
Nine: Chicago dir. luvs him some fishnets. D. Day-Lewis luvs him some ladies, who luv him back in song. Sexy, stylish, but way disjointed.
It Happened 1 Night: Delightful dialog. Charming leads. Madcap but believable romance. Deserving Best Pic.
It Might Get Loud: It sure did. I could watch Page, White & Edge talk guitar for days.
Anvil: Not just real-life Spinal Tap. Music to discover. Characters to care about. Must see!
Up in the Air: Clooney radiates. His ladies glow. Script is breezy & cool (& warm). Oscar buzz is well deserved.
Road: Viggo carries the fire w/ grace. The boy's a revelation. Their glances say what words cannot. Loyal adaptation. Powerful film.
Dr. Parnassus: Imaginative, dreamy, completely original. Different Ledgers don't confuse. Ending is jumbled, but vision remains.
500 Days of Summer: 2nd viewing (of many, I'm sure): Wrenches my heart & makes me laugh. Kinda like my life itself.
Lovely Bones: Book 2 film, Sebold 2 Jackson, pretty prose 2 eye-popping images. Heavenly. Dreamy. Lovely. Critics r wrong to dismiss it.
Princess & Frog: Disney returns to classic animation. Likeable characters, tunes, moral. Kids in audience laughed & gasped. So did this kid.
Sherlock Holmes: Stylish, hip, action-packed. Downey & Law make dashing duo. Would've preferred more deduction, less brawling.
Paper Heart: Twee, cutesy, a bit too much. Likeable enough, but not quite loveable.
Taken: Preposterous, violent, not my kind of movie. Possibly rad if you like that kind of thing. Moral: Don't fuck with Liam. Kapow!
He's Just Not...: Not that inspired, but not that terrible. I'm just not the target audience. I left w/ a crush on Ginnifer G.
Watchmen: Whizbang porn for fan boys. Yes! Worse than the book, but duh. Still awesome.
I Love You Man: Dude, don't think, just go & laugh. I love you, Paul Rudd. I love you, Rush cameo.
Adventureland: Sweet, amusing, nostalgic, touching. A Michael Cera movie w/out Michael Cera. 80s pop songs steal the show.
Sunshine Cleaning: Not just quirky for quirky's sake. Gore-free scenes are hardest hitting. Amy Adams inspires a song!
Observe & Report: Laughs that catch in your throat. (Um, rape?) Humor so dark it's only sometimes humorous.
Informers: Pretty surface, rotten core. LA, the city of fallen angels. No redemption, just like the book. Killing my soul vicariously.
State of Play: Fat R. Crowe & cute R. McAdams fight the power & eulogize papers. Good-for-u thriller is thrilling but forgettable.
17 Again: I maybe saw this. It maybe warmed the heart of this 30-yr-old cynic. I don't hate Zac for being young; in fact, I maybe like him.
Being Bucky: Lightweight doc about being a mascot. No real story arc, but so what? It's fun.
Soloist: Yet another film about the power of music (w/ Foxx bringing the crazy). Somewhat predictable, but not completely powerless.
Star Trek: Flashy fun for this nonfan. Gateway to geekery. Glad I saw it.
Sugar: Not in the same ballpark as a common baseball flick. Not even in the same league. The players and story are realer, more poignant.
Up: Sepia section is saddest thing ever. Everything else is vibrant, breezy. Rises above most other cartoons, even other films.
Pixar: It's more like a great director than a studio. It's never let me down.
Angels & Demons: Bigger bombs, faster chases, slightly less over-explanatory blah-blah. In other words, better than Da Vinci, thank God.
The Hangover: Hilarious. (No need for more characters.)
Year One: So glad I didn't pay $ for this. Failed to meet even my lowest expectations. Jumbled plot + stilted acting + lame gags = comedy?
Public Enemies: Depp, Bale, fedoras, jazz... bullets whiz & rattattat... edge of seat & armrest grip... So why muck it up w/ lukewarm love?
500 Days of Summer: There's never been a movie more targeted to me. Zooey's adorable, Joe's all mopey, mixtapes R made, hearts R broken.
Away We Go: Targeted to me in 3-5 years. Subtle script, acting, cinematography. An intimate look at intimacy en route.
Whatever Works: Not this film. Woody hates ppl, characters, audience. Misanthropy trumps the few funny moments.
HP6: Grownup actors snog like kids. Funniest Potter film possibly, pal. Fans will luv it, nonfans might not. I'm a fan, so yes.
Bruno: Outrageous. But not as much as he thinks. See it for the wrestling, the velcro & the penis.
Beth Cooper: One crazy night w/ luvable Hayden! Another teen movie? LOL! Somewhat cliche & worse than book, but fun for any age.
Just finished The Lovely Bones. Lovely! Up next, The Road. Prepping to argue books v. movies.
Julie & Julia: Light & tasty dessert of a film. Makes me wanna blog like it's 2002.
Bandslam: Indie-ish film w/ 2 Disney princesses. Tonal problems, but fun nonetheless, w/ least believable Bowie plug ever.
Inglourious Basterds: Best film of '09 so far. At least 3rd best of Quentin's career. Glourious splatter, intrigue & revenge.
District 9: Alien ghetto = xenophobic metaphor. Thrilling, thought-provoking & strangely close to home.
Hurt Locker: Vicarious hurt. It's like you're at war. No agenda, just soldiers' grit.
Extract: Less than Office Space, more than other comedies. Absurd, realistic, LOL funny.
Ponyo: Slower & stranger than American toons. Beautiful images, fairytale sweetness, dreamy dreams of H20. Little Mermaid sans song, dance.
Jennifer's Body: Horror, humor & feminist subtext, not as profound as Hole song of title. But Megan is foxy, film is fun, esp. to analyze.
Bright Star: Costume drama more costume than drama. But pastel pastorale is pretty as a painting.
The Informant!: Best voiceover since Adaptation! Best ! since Oil! Funny thriller invents new genre! Fat Matt Damon: check!
Zombieland: Awesome! Totally awesome!!
Invention of Lying: & religion & advertising & relationships. Funny moments, truths abound, but film more honest discussing than watching.
Whip It: Best roller derby movie ever. 4-wheel fun for women (& men).
WTWTA: Still processing 3 days later. Emo, existential, scary, beautiful. Joy & rage, a journey home. Monsters wow, death talk frightens.
Capitalism: A Love Story: Michael Moore repeats himself.
A Serious Man: Coens get serious, grapple w/ God, reward the faith of serious film fans. See if you like the Coens, or film. O the ending!
Chariots of Fire: I luv running, I luv films. This running film? I hated it. Beautifully shot but pulls up lame. 2 much slo-mo. Much 2 slow.
The Box: Fascinating quandary ruined by Martians. & alternate worlds. & time travel. Or something. Spooky mood wins. Ur mind'll b blown.
Men Who Stare @ Goats: Intelligent romp re: US intelligence. If goats were harmed in making of film, goats didn't die in vain.
An Education: An education in storytelling (Nick Hornby) & acting (lovely Carey Mulligan). Young exuberance turns to wisdom. Entertaining.
Fantastic Mr Fox: Breezy! Handcrafted w/ care. Makes u wanna touch the screen, if not climb in & play. First fun W. Anderson pic. Fantastic!
This Is It: The king of behind-the-scenes concert docs. Loved last chance to watch Him dance.
Blind Side: Hollywood sentiment choked me up. Must b getting sappy in my old age. Family film my whole fam enjoyed.
Precious: Bleak, bleaker, bleakest. Ur bleeding heart will break. Intense, unforgettable, gritty, real. Is happy ending possible?
Amadeus: Mozart's passion, Salieri's obsession, both ring true today. Almost as timeless as soundtrk.
Avatar: Dances w/ Blacklight Poster. Borrowed plot, hack dialog but stunning, immersive, fluorescent visuals.
Me & Orson Welles: The guy who plays Welles steals each scene, but boyish Efron holds his own. Sometimes pretty boys grow up to be actors.
Brothers: Natalie, Jake, Tobey love, mourn, go crazy. Trailer almost ruined it by giving away best scenes; other scenes are less intense.
Nine: Chicago dir. luvs him some fishnets. D. Day-Lewis luvs him some ladies, who luv him back in song. Sexy, stylish, but way disjointed.
It Happened 1 Night: Delightful dialog. Charming leads. Madcap but believable romance. Deserving Best Pic.
It Might Get Loud: It sure did. I could watch Page, White & Edge talk guitar for days.
Anvil: Not just real-life Spinal Tap. Music to discover. Characters to care about. Must see!
Up in the Air: Clooney radiates. His ladies glow. Script is breezy & cool (& warm). Oscar buzz is well deserved.
Road: Viggo carries the fire w/ grace. The boy's a revelation. Their glances say what words cannot. Loyal adaptation. Powerful film.
Dr. Parnassus: Imaginative, dreamy, completely original. Different Ledgers don't confuse. Ending is jumbled, but vision remains.
500 Days of Summer: 2nd viewing (of many, I'm sure): Wrenches my heart & makes me laugh. Kinda like my life itself.
Lovely Bones: Book 2 film, Sebold 2 Jackson, pretty prose 2 eye-popping images. Heavenly. Dreamy. Lovely. Critics r wrong to dismiss it.
Princess & Frog: Disney returns to classic animation. Likeable characters, tunes, moral. Kids in audience laughed & gasped. So did this kid.
Sherlock Holmes: Stylish, hip, action-packed. Downey & Law make dashing duo. Would've preferred more deduction, less brawling.
Paper Heart: Twee, cutesy, a bit too much. Likeable enough, but not quite loveable.
January 29, 2010
100 Songs. 100 Words. First 10.
Eisley – Golly Sandra
I know it’s clichéd, yet I say it all the time: “This song breaks my heart.” But this song, Jesus, it shatters that vessel, stopping my pulse and stealing my breath and grabbing and gripping and wringing me dead, shivers and toe taps and sighs and oh God. Something in the way the girls themselves sigh, the slide guitar cries, the drum is a heartbeat. Something in the lyrics, ineffable yet tangible, real and true and… mysterious? Magical? This is the reason I listen to music. This is the meaning I’ve always been seeking. This is it. I simply know.
Neko Case – This Tornado Loves You
The music swirls. The voice is a gale. The lyrics are a broadcast, a storm chaser’s dream – trailer parks, train tracks, motherless souls – told from a lovesick tornado’s perspective. She wants you, she loves you, she’ll show you how much, running and crashing and watching you sleep. A force of nature, a siren, a fury, the perfect storm of form and function – the perfect song, period, perfection itself – personifying love and destruction and storminess, the shelter I’m chasing, the brokenness I’ve found. Lost in its eye, my walls overturned, I haven’t come down since the first time I heard it.
Jeff Buckley – Last Goodbye
I’ll never forget the first time I heard it: the starry-eyed sunrise, her scent on my skin, wanting to whistle but not knowing how, so cinematic it might not have happened, but isn’t it pretty to think so? It’s gorgeous. Savor the sweetness of every goodbye, the bitterness of every kiss, the taste and smell of every new hope: hi, hello, how are you, I love you. Another cliché: his angelic voice, winged and haloed and coated in gold. My own voice: earthy, torn and choked, but isn’t it pretty to sing along anyway? I believe it’s what God wants.
Nada Surf – Popular
1) Without this song, I’m not a musician. Senior year. Talent show. My first-ever band. I stood at the microphone, blinded by the spotlights, speaking or yelling the lyrics we’d rewritten, terror giving way to elation. We rocked!
2) Without this song, I’m not a failed novelist. Years out of high school, seeking inspiration, I tried to steal the themes of this wonderful hit – jocks and nerds and their guide to popularity – and almost got away with it, until I started meddling. I’m still in search of my one big hit, the thing I’ll be remembered for, that similar elation.
Nirvana – Come As You Are
I could and probably should write an essay about it: the song, the album, the band, the sound; my ears, my brain, my heart, my life. Everything I’ve ever heard and known and felt and lived. My generation, my cliché. Shredded eardrums, shredded throats. It’s all been said, it’s all been read, I’ll have to sing or scream it: Memoria. Memoria. Memoria. Memoria. This song is mine, it belongs to me, as much as any monster hit can ever belong to anyone. It won’t burn out, or fade away. A hundred times a hundred words would still not be enough.
Stone Temple Pilots – Interstate Love Song
“Leaving,” they sing. I hear it too often. Yesterday, Sunday, full steam ahead. Train rides, train wrecks, blazing horizons. Lies, promises, no reply. Left behind, I watch and wave. Exhausted, derailed, departed. Terminal. Seldom my fault, because I’m the hero. (An odyssey through my music collection.) It’s also true I’m seldom the leaver, watching them shrink, then finally disappear. (This narrator is seldom unreliable.) This song helps me lose that map, bound for opportunity, possibly glory. Vicariously, I travel south, wanting, like always, to whistle along. Wherever I am when I hear it, I’ve arrived. Whenever that happens, I’m happy.
Tori Amos – God
“God, sometimes You just don’t come through.” I didn’t write that, but I’ve sung it and believed it. I’ve questioned and doubted and possibly blasphemed, shunning Your mercy and grace and love, seeking my redemption in humanity instead. I’ve idolized artists. In them, I’ve put my faith. In music, blessed music, I’ve found the sublime, by far my favorite gift from You, except for life itself. A song like this, a sound like this – pounding piano, impassioned cries, wisdom, understanding, transcendence, soul – it proves You sometimes answer prayers. Sometimes You do come through, loud and clear. Forgive me for forgetting.
Billy Joel – Scenes From An Italian Restaurant
In just eight minutes, a lifetime unfolds: Brenda and Eddie, “the popular steadies,” from dating to divorce, from hope to nostalgia, from everyday acquaintances to old friends forgotten. A story to be told over bottles of wine, a cautionary tale for everyone listening, a requiem for innocence, a singalong concerto… A work of flash fiction posing as a pop tune, there’s even a narrator, a frame tale, a saxophone... Even as a kid, I cared about these characters. Now I want a sequel, or some gossip of my own. Consider these reviews my story so far, a melody I’ve memorized.
Young MC – Bust a Move
Dances, weddings, karaoke. Plus, my cover, acoustically arranged, sung and strummed so sweetly, unironically, often introduced as the best song, like, ever, the dopest in the history of dopeness, or history. Just because it’s laughable doesn’t mean it’s false. Revisionist personal history? True. Apologizing always, ardently, apoplectically: “He raps way faster than anyone remembers. The beat is influential. He taught me ‘libido…’” No one doubts my dumb devotion; everyone knows how deeply it’s felt: “I heard ‘Bust a Move’ and thought of you.” “I made ‘Bust a Move’ your ringtone.” “Your ‘Bust a Move’ cover is the greatest thing ever…”
Vanilla Ice – Ice Ice Baby
Alright stop, collaborate, and listen
I am back with an age-old affection
This song grabs a hold of me tightly
Memorized lyrics daily and nightly
Will I ever stop? Yo, I don’t know
Turn off the song? I say no!
To the extreme I’m rocking out like a vandal
Liking the song in perpetual scandal
Dance, blush, my speakers still boom
Killing my brain like a poisonous pop tune
Deadly? Well, it’s got a dope melody
No, not the best, but my favoritest felony
Love it or leave it, you better not wait
Better hit four-eyes before I press play
I know it’s clichéd, yet I say it all the time: “This song breaks my heart.” But this song, Jesus, it shatters that vessel, stopping my pulse and stealing my breath and grabbing and gripping and wringing me dead, shivers and toe taps and sighs and oh God. Something in the way the girls themselves sigh, the slide guitar cries, the drum is a heartbeat. Something in the lyrics, ineffable yet tangible, real and true and… mysterious? Magical? This is the reason I listen to music. This is the meaning I’ve always been seeking. This is it. I simply know.
Neko Case – This Tornado Loves You
The music swirls. The voice is a gale. The lyrics are a broadcast, a storm chaser’s dream – trailer parks, train tracks, motherless souls – told from a lovesick tornado’s perspective. She wants you, she loves you, she’ll show you how much, running and crashing and watching you sleep. A force of nature, a siren, a fury, the perfect storm of form and function – the perfect song, period, perfection itself – personifying love and destruction and storminess, the shelter I’m chasing, the brokenness I’ve found. Lost in its eye, my walls overturned, I haven’t come down since the first time I heard it.
Jeff Buckley – Last Goodbye
I’ll never forget the first time I heard it: the starry-eyed sunrise, her scent on my skin, wanting to whistle but not knowing how, so cinematic it might not have happened, but isn’t it pretty to think so? It’s gorgeous. Savor the sweetness of every goodbye, the bitterness of every kiss, the taste and smell of every new hope: hi, hello, how are you, I love you. Another cliché: his angelic voice, winged and haloed and coated in gold. My own voice: earthy, torn and choked, but isn’t it pretty to sing along anyway? I believe it’s what God wants.
Nada Surf – Popular
1) Without this song, I’m not a musician. Senior year. Talent show. My first-ever band. I stood at the microphone, blinded by the spotlights, speaking or yelling the lyrics we’d rewritten, terror giving way to elation. We rocked!
2) Without this song, I’m not a failed novelist. Years out of high school, seeking inspiration, I tried to steal the themes of this wonderful hit – jocks and nerds and their guide to popularity – and almost got away with it, until I started meddling. I’m still in search of my one big hit, the thing I’ll be remembered for, that similar elation.
Nirvana – Come As You Are
I could and probably should write an essay about it: the song, the album, the band, the sound; my ears, my brain, my heart, my life. Everything I’ve ever heard and known and felt and lived. My generation, my cliché. Shredded eardrums, shredded throats. It’s all been said, it’s all been read, I’ll have to sing or scream it: Memoria. Memoria. Memoria. Memoria. This song is mine, it belongs to me, as much as any monster hit can ever belong to anyone. It won’t burn out, or fade away. A hundred times a hundred words would still not be enough.
Stone Temple Pilots – Interstate Love Song
“Leaving,” they sing. I hear it too often. Yesterday, Sunday, full steam ahead. Train rides, train wrecks, blazing horizons. Lies, promises, no reply. Left behind, I watch and wave. Exhausted, derailed, departed. Terminal. Seldom my fault, because I’m the hero. (An odyssey through my music collection.) It’s also true I’m seldom the leaver, watching them shrink, then finally disappear. (This narrator is seldom unreliable.) This song helps me lose that map, bound for opportunity, possibly glory. Vicariously, I travel south, wanting, like always, to whistle along. Wherever I am when I hear it, I’ve arrived. Whenever that happens, I’m happy.
Tori Amos – God
“God, sometimes You just don’t come through.” I didn’t write that, but I’ve sung it and believed it. I’ve questioned and doubted and possibly blasphemed, shunning Your mercy and grace and love, seeking my redemption in humanity instead. I’ve idolized artists. In them, I’ve put my faith. In music, blessed music, I’ve found the sublime, by far my favorite gift from You, except for life itself. A song like this, a sound like this – pounding piano, impassioned cries, wisdom, understanding, transcendence, soul – it proves You sometimes answer prayers. Sometimes You do come through, loud and clear. Forgive me for forgetting.
Billy Joel – Scenes From An Italian Restaurant
In just eight minutes, a lifetime unfolds: Brenda and Eddie, “the popular steadies,” from dating to divorce, from hope to nostalgia, from everyday acquaintances to old friends forgotten. A story to be told over bottles of wine, a cautionary tale for everyone listening, a requiem for innocence, a singalong concerto… A work of flash fiction posing as a pop tune, there’s even a narrator, a frame tale, a saxophone... Even as a kid, I cared about these characters. Now I want a sequel, or some gossip of my own. Consider these reviews my story so far, a melody I’ve memorized.
Young MC – Bust a Move
Dances, weddings, karaoke. Plus, my cover, acoustically arranged, sung and strummed so sweetly, unironically, often introduced as the best song, like, ever, the dopest in the history of dopeness, or history. Just because it’s laughable doesn’t mean it’s false. Revisionist personal history? True. Apologizing always, ardently, apoplectically: “He raps way faster than anyone remembers. The beat is influential. He taught me ‘libido…’” No one doubts my dumb devotion; everyone knows how deeply it’s felt: “I heard ‘Bust a Move’ and thought of you.” “I made ‘Bust a Move’ your ringtone.” “Your ‘Bust a Move’ cover is the greatest thing ever…”
Vanilla Ice – Ice Ice Baby
Alright stop, collaborate, and listen
I am back with an age-old affection
This song grabs a hold of me tightly
Memorized lyrics daily and nightly
Will I ever stop? Yo, I don’t know
Turn off the song? I say no!
To the extreme I’m rocking out like a vandal
Liking the song in perpetual scandal
Dance, blush, my speakers still boom
Killing my brain like a poisonous pop tune
Deadly? Well, it’s got a dope melody
No, not the best, but my favoritest felony
Love it or leave it, you better not wait
Better hit four-eyes before I press play
January 13, 2010
My Favorite 10 Albums of 2009
Here it is, the groove, slightly transformed, just a bit of a break from the norm, just a little something to break the monotony... of all those lists with Animal Collective at number one. These are the albums I felt the most fervently, adored the most ardently, and redundantly verbed the most alliteratively adverbally. They had me at "hello," they completed me, etc. (They were not a dress, they were an Audrey Hepburn movie. Like dogs and bees, these albums could smell fear.) They caused the most shivers and singalongs and arguments; they made me quote artworks which were years, or decades, old. Perhaps not the best but indubitably my favorites, these are the albums I couldn't stop playing. These are the albums I'm sure I never will. Stop, that is. Like this neverending paragraph. These are the albums which inspired sound and fury, and caused me to signify nothing but love.
1) Neko Case - Middle Cyclone
2) The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love
3) Jay-Z - The Blueprint 3
4) Miranda Lambert - Revolution
5) Green Day - 21st Century Breakdown
6) Regina Spektor - Far
7) Florence & The Machine - Lungs
8) Lily Allen - It's Not Me, It's You
9) Weezer - Raditude
10) Tori Amos - Abnormally Attracted to Sin
In 2009, in short, in summation, what kind of music does Matthew Webber like? Sirens, concept albums, token rappers and country singers, bands I liked when I was a kid, Tori Amos, and artists who have been inspired by Tori Amos.
1) Neko Case - Middle Cyclone
2) The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love
3) Jay-Z - The Blueprint 3
4) Miranda Lambert - Revolution
5) Green Day - 21st Century Breakdown
6) Regina Spektor - Far
7) Florence & The Machine - Lungs
8) Lily Allen - It's Not Me, It's You
9) Weezer - Raditude
10) Tori Amos - Abnormally Attracted to Sin
In 2009, in short, in summation, what kind of music does Matthew Webber like? Sirens, concept albums, token rappers and country singers, bands I liked when I was a kid, Tori Amos, and artists who have been inspired by Tori Amos.
The Year in Tweets: Music
Since none of you (approximately) are on Twitter, here are my 140-character reviews of all the music I listened to this year.
Lily Allen: Songbird grows up, gets poppier, sells out? The sass remains the same, so no. Topics: Boys, surreal life, Dubya.
Neko Case: Personified tornadoes, animals, heartbreak. Torch songs as enveloping as burnt electric blankets. Favorite for 2009's No. 1.
U2: Typically massive, but newly, bravely intimate. They sound like bands that sound like U2. Bono still makes Jesus weep.
Decemberists: Huzzah! Old-timey folk-rock by lit geeks for lit geeks. Best concept disc since Mechanical Animals. Murder ballads slay.
Adele: Another white Brit chick appropriates soul. Sweeter than Wino, better than Duffy.
Ray LaMontagne: Gritty yet smooth, warm & inviting, the sound of the last of ur favorite cup of coffee. Plus, u can actually hear the wood.
Fleet Foxes: Backwoods beards sing songs of beauty. Perfect background for computer-based job.
Taylor Swift: Sugary sweet & adorable, sure. But also insightful beyond her years. I'll proselytize for her to all u country haters.
Vampire Weekend: Sounds like stuff that white ppl like: sweaters, libraries, boarding school singalongs. Neither as good nor as bad as…
…you’ve read.
Baseball Project: Anyone heard this? Indie all-stars dream of Mays, curse T. Williams & thank Curt Flood. Humming fastballs. Catchy. Jangly.
Ditty Bops: 3 albums in, they're cute as ever. 2 pretty voices, prettier songs, a barnful of pretty old-timey instruments. Sweetness.
Eminem: Dope beats, dope rhymes, but somewhat disappointing. I'm almost as sick of Shady as he is.
Ben Folds acappella: Strictly for diehards & acappella enablers. Do I love it? Duh.
Green Day: Same ambition & pop/punk hooks. American Idiot II pretty much. Rawk!
Tori Amos: Crystalline, magical, sounds like the 90s. A record w/ grooves (but few standout songs). The muse is back, if she ever left.
Pearl Jam: Legendary up to & including No Code. Snooze-inducing afterwards. What happened to the riffs? To the reverb on Eddie's vox?
Thriller: As amazing as ever. R.I.P.
Regina Spektor: Cute, quirky - but not too much. She's too good for marginalization, at least for guys (me!) in luv w/ chick pianists.
Kings of Leon: Kings of classic-sounding rock. Not yet classic, but on the road to same. Arena ambitions - what's wrong w/ that?
Wilco: Good, but great? Consistently consistent.
Early Neko Case albums: They keep getting older, but her amazing voice stays the same. A lil bit country-er, but u know what? That's fine.
Mos Def: Call it a comeback. Bob your head in bangin' contemplation.
Q-Tip: Call it a comeback. Hearkens back to late-Tribe spirit.
Meth & Red: Blah-ckout 2. Is misogyny still funny?
Abbey Road: Still my favorite album, artistic creation, human achievement ever.
Per every music mag ever, (old artist's new album) is their best since (old artist's last good album).
Having said that, Blueprint 3 is clearly Jay-Z's best since The Black Album.
Bjork live album: Makes me wish I was rich enough to see her. Makes me wish I lived in Iceland. Makes me wish she still wrote pop tunes.
Marilyn Manson albums: He keeps making em, I keep buying em. Songs sound relevant (scary, good), even if he's not.
And by "buying em," of course, I mean, "checking em out of the library and burning em."
Brandi Carlile: As raw & heartfelt as always, but... melodies aren't as head-sticking yet.
Miranda Lambert: Country spitfire cleans up nicely, remains authentic, gun-toting, crazy. Country for ppl for who don't think they like it.
A Fine Frenzy: Too adult-contempo for most of my friends, but perfectly poppy for me. Chick, piano, melody, etc.
Monsters of Folk: Pro: Monsters of harmony. Con: Monsters of writing better tunes on their own than in a supergroup.
Swell Season: Real-life loss of chemistry hurts. After few listens, songs start to grow. Sadly, not as majestic as Once.
Nellie McKay sings Doris Day: New chanteuse sings old one's tunes. Funny, jazzy, loungey, smooth. Hopefully more new Nellie tunes soon.
Florence + the Machine: Big-voiced Brit makes epic pop. Lungs indeed. Debut of the year. (Again, I'm the target audience tho.)
Muse: Pretentious. Over the top. But kinda awesome.
Weezer: Far from Pinkerton, but pure pop pleasure.
John Mayer: Some would call his blues/pop bland, but this guy calls it bloody good. Guy's got chops & songcraft skillz.
Norah Jones: Lil bit funky & not just for her. New songs swing where old ones smoldered.
Paramore: Pop songs packaged as teenage angst? I am totally cool w/ this.
Jill Sobule: No less quirky in her old age. No less melodic or deserving of audience. Rustic sound is new for her. Tunes are fun as usual.
St Vincent, The Bird & The Bee, Bat for Lashes: The kind of CDs I always buy & love. Songs that burrow in2 my brain. Written by women 4 me?
Lily Allen: Songbird grows up, gets poppier, sells out? The sass remains the same, so no. Topics: Boys, surreal life, Dubya.
Neko Case: Personified tornadoes, animals, heartbreak. Torch songs as enveloping as burnt electric blankets. Favorite for 2009's No. 1.
U2: Typically massive, but newly, bravely intimate. They sound like bands that sound like U2. Bono still makes Jesus weep.
Decemberists: Huzzah! Old-timey folk-rock by lit geeks for lit geeks. Best concept disc since Mechanical Animals. Murder ballads slay.
Adele: Another white Brit chick appropriates soul. Sweeter than Wino, better than Duffy.
Ray LaMontagne: Gritty yet smooth, warm & inviting, the sound of the last of ur favorite cup of coffee. Plus, u can actually hear the wood.
Fleet Foxes: Backwoods beards sing songs of beauty. Perfect background for computer-based job.
Taylor Swift: Sugary sweet & adorable, sure. But also insightful beyond her years. I'll proselytize for her to all u country haters.
Vampire Weekend: Sounds like stuff that white ppl like: sweaters, libraries, boarding school singalongs. Neither as good nor as bad as…
…you’ve read.
Baseball Project: Anyone heard this? Indie all-stars dream of Mays, curse T. Williams & thank Curt Flood. Humming fastballs. Catchy. Jangly.
Ditty Bops: 3 albums in, they're cute as ever. 2 pretty voices, prettier songs, a barnful of pretty old-timey instruments. Sweetness.
Eminem: Dope beats, dope rhymes, but somewhat disappointing. I'm almost as sick of Shady as he is.
Ben Folds acappella: Strictly for diehards & acappella enablers. Do I love it? Duh.
Green Day: Same ambition & pop/punk hooks. American Idiot II pretty much. Rawk!
Tori Amos: Crystalline, magical, sounds like the 90s. A record w/ grooves (but few standout songs). The muse is back, if she ever left.
Pearl Jam: Legendary up to & including No Code. Snooze-inducing afterwards. What happened to the riffs? To the reverb on Eddie's vox?
Thriller: As amazing as ever. R.I.P.
Regina Spektor: Cute, quirky - but not too much. She's too good for marginalization, at least for guys (me!) in luv w/ chick pianists.
Kings of Leon: Kings of classic-sounding rock. Not yet classic, but on the road to same. Arena ambitions - what's wrong w/ that?
Wilco: Good, but great? Consistently consistent.
Early Neko Case albums: They keep getting older, but her amazing voice stays the same. A lil bit country-er, but u know what? That's fine.
Mos Def: Call it a comeback. Bob your head in bangin' contemplation.
Q-Tip: Call it a comeback. Hearkens back to late-Tribe spirit.
Meth & Red: Blah-ckout 2. Is misogyny still funny?
Abbey Road: Still my favorite album, artistic creation, human achievement ever.
Per every music mag ever, (old artist's new album) is their best since (old artist's last good album).
Having said that, Blueprint 3 is clearly Jay-Z's best since The Black Album.
Bjork live album: Makes me wish I was rich enough to see her. Makes me wish I lived in Iceland. Makes me wish she still wrote pop tunes.
Marilyn Manson albums: He keeps making em, I keep buying em. Songs sound relevant (scary, good), even if he's not.
And by "buying em," of course, I mean, "checking em out of the library and burning em."
Brandi Carlile: As raw & heartfelt as always, but... melodies aren't as head-sticking yet.
Miranda Lambert: Country spitfire cleans up nicely, remains authentic, gun-toting, crazy. Country for ppl for who don't think they like it.
A Fine Frenzy: Too adult-contempo for most of my friends, but perfectly poppy for me. Chick, piano, melody, etc.
Monsters of Folk: Pro: Monsters of harmony. Con: Monsters of writing better tunes on their own than in a supergroup.
Swell Season: Real-life loss of chemistry hurts. After few listens, songs start to grow. Sadly, not as majestic as Once.
Nellie McKay sings Doris Day: New chanteuse sings old one's tunes. Funny, jazzy, loungey, smooth. Hopefully more new Nellie tunes soon.
Florence + the Machine: Big-voiced Brit makes epic pop. Lungs indeed. Debut of the year. (Again, I'm the target audience tho.)
Muse: Pretentious. Over the top. But kinda awesome.
Weezer: Far from Pinkerton, but pure pop pleasure.
John Mayer: Some would call his blues/pop bland, but this guy calls it bloody good. Guy's got chops & songcraft skillz.
Norah Jones: Lil bit funky & not just for her. New songs swing where old ones smoldered.
Paramore: Pop songs packaged as teenage angst? I am totally cool w/ this.
Jill Sobule: No less quirky in her old age. No less melodic or deserving of audience. Rustic sound is new for her. Tunes are fun as usual.
St Vincent, The Bird & The Bee, Bat for Lashes: The kind of CDs I always buy & love. Songs that burrow in2 my brain. Written by women 4 me?
December 23, 2008
My Favorite 11 Albums of 2008
Hotly anticipated by perhaps two of you, here's my list of the eleven albums I listened to, recommended, argued about, and just plain enjoyed the most this year. As I say every year, they're not necessarily the best in an objective and critical sense, which is something I used to value more highly. Instead, they're only the best for me: subjective, personal me, Matthew Webber.
From rock to rap to (gasp!) pop/country, this is the stuff I loved, unashamedly. The stuff I played again and again, when no one I wanted to impress was around.
In short, these albums are simply my favorites. I love them.
My Favorite 11 Albums of 2008
or, Eleven More Nails in My Hipster Coffin
1. Aimee Mann, "...Smilers"
2. The Roots, "Rising Down"
3. Guns N' Roses, "Chinese Democracy"
4. Taylor Swift, "Fearless"
5. Ben Folds, "Way to Normal"
6. Death Cab For Cutie, "Narrow Stairs"
7. Coldplay, "Viva La Vida"
8. Jenny Lewis, "Acid Tongue"
9. She & Him, "Volume One"
10. Kate Nash, "Made of Bricks"
11. Girl Talk, "Feed the Animals"
From rock to rap to (gasp!) pop/country, this is the stuff I loved, unashamedly. The stuff I played again and again, when no one I wanted to impress was around.
In short, these albums are simply my favorites. I love them.
My Favorite 11 Albums of 2008
or, Eleven More Nails in My Hipster Coffin
1. Aimee Mann, "...Smilers"
2. The Roots, "Rising Down"
3. Guns N' Roses, "Chinese Democracy"
4. Taylor Swift, "Fearless"
5. Ben Folds, "Way to Normal"
6. Death Cab For Cutie, "Narrow Stairs"
7. Coldplay, "Viva La Vida"
8. Jenny Lewis, "Acid Tongue"
9. She & Him, "Volume One"
10. Kate Nash, "Made of Bricks"
11. Girl Talk, "Feed the Animals"
December 20, 2008
Albums of the Years
All you music fans should do this...
I took a break from rearranging my list of the year's top ten albums (my album of the year is revealed below!) to compile another list I keep seeing all over the Internet, a list of my favorite albums from every year I've been alive. Like all music lists, this one was fun to make, but much more difficult than I imagined. I actually had to do research!
Here's the list, with commentary afterwards.
The list:
1979: Pink Floyd, "The Wall"
1980: Van Halen, "Women and Children First"
1981: Van Halen, "Fair Warning"
1982: Michael Jackson, "Thriller"
1983: U2, "War"
1984: Prince, "Purple Rain"
1985: Tears for Fears, "Songs From the Big Chair"
1986: Run-D.M.C, "Raising Hell"
1987: Guns N' Roses, "Appetite for Destruction"
1988: N.W.A., "Straight Outta Compton"
1989: Beastie Boys, "Paul's Boutique"
1990: Public Enemy, "Fear of a Black Planet"
1991: Nirvana, "Nevermind"
1992: Tori Amos, "Little Earthquakes"
1993: Smashing Pumpkins, "Siamese Dream"
1994: Jeff Buckley, "Grace"
1995: Blur, "The Great Escape"
1996: Fiona Apple, "Tidal"
1997: Radiohead, "OK Computer"
1998: Elliott Smith, "XO"
1999: Fiona Apple, "When the Pawn..."
2000: Eminem, "The Marshall Mathers LP"
2001: Ben Folds, "Rockin' the Suburbs"
2002: Beck, "Sea Change"
2003: Rufus Wainwright, "Want One"
2004: Nellie McKay, "Get Away From Me"
2005: Eisley, "Room Noises"
2006: Dixie Chicks, "Taking the Long Way"
2007: "Once" Soundtrack
2008: Aimee Mann, "...Smilers"
Commentary:
1) I actually lived through "The Wall"? Rad.
2) No surprise. The early '80s are a musical wasteland for me. Not only did I fail to mention a single album from 1980-83 in my Albums. 100 Words. project, I literally had to search Wikipedia to remember what albums came out in those years. Although I wouldn't mind listening to my final choices of Van Halen, more Van Halen, the black Michael Jackson, and U2 on my deserted (but somehow electrical) island, I'd much rather listen to the suitcase full of albums from 1991 that I was required to leave behind.
3) Wow. 1987 was easy.
4) I wish I listened to '80s rap in the '80s, instead of the silence (because I didn't listen to the radio) followed by the Paula Abdul (because I did) that I actually listened to. When I discovered groups like Run-D.M.C., N.W.A., and Public Enemy in college, I realized how many gaping holes there were (and still are) in my music library, despite my claims of listening to everything...
5) ...kinda like when I discovered the Dixie Chicks and country music, a genre which I'm still getting to know. You can mock me if you want -- but I'd much rather you actually recommend stuff to me. Statements like "I listen to everything... except country" sound uninformed, prejudiced, and just plain dumb to me now -- even though I said that for years. Does anyone remember when I said the same thing about rap back in 1993? We all saw how that turned out.
6) I love the '90s. Blah blah blah.
7) I swear I didn't cheat and cherry pick my all-time favorite artists (non-Beatles category). But most of them are here, from the Smashing Pumpkins to the Beastie Boys to Tori Amos. (Congratulations to two-time honoree Fiona Apple. My condolences to zero-time honoree Stone Temple Pilots.) So, while this list is far from perfect, it's a great introduction to the artists and music I love -- and to me.
8) Your turn!
I took a break from rearranging my list of the year's top ten albums (my album of the year is revealed below!) to compile another list I keep seeing all over the Internet, a list of my favorite albums from every year I've been alive. Like all music lists, this one was fun to make, but much more difficult than I imagined. I actually had to do research!
Here's the list, with commentary afterwards.
The list:
1979: Pink Floyd, "The Wall"
1980: Van Halen, "Women and Children First"
1981: Van Halen, "Fair Warning"
1982: Michael Jackson, "Thriller"
1983: U2, "War"
1984: Prince, "Purple Rain"
1985: Tears for Fears, "Songs From the Big Chair"
1986: Run-D.M.C, "Raising Hell"
1987: Guns N' Roses, "Appetite for Destruction"
1988: N.W.A., "Straight Outta Compton"
1989: Beastie Boys, "Paul's Boutique"
1990: Public Enemy, "Fear of a Black Planet"
1991: Nirvana, "Nevermind"
1992: Tori Amos, "Little Earthquakes"
1993: Smashing Pumpkins, "Siamese Dream"
1994: Jeff Buckley, "Grace"
1995: Blur, "The Great Escape"
1996: Fiona Apple, "Tidal"
1997: Radiohead, "OK Computer"
1998: Elliott Smith, "XO"
1999: Fiona Apple, "When the Pawn..."
2000: Eminem, "The Marshall Mathers LP"
2001: Ben Folds, "Rockin' the Suburbs"
2002: Beck, "Sea Change"
2003: Rufus Wainwright, "Want One"
2004: Nellie McKay, "Get Away From Me"
2005: Eisley, "Room Noises"
2006: Dixie Chicks, "Taking the Long Way"
2007: "Once" Soundtrack
2008: Aimee Mann, "...Smilers"
Commentary:
1) I actually lived through "The Wall"? Rad.
2) No surprise. The early '80s are a musical wasteland for me. Not only did I fail to mention a single album from 1980-83 in my Albums. 100 Words. project, I literally had to search Wikipedia to remember what albums came out in those years. Although I wouldn't mind listening to my final choices of Van Halen, more Van Halen, the black Michael Jackson, and U2 on my deserted (but somehow electrical) island, I'd much rather listen to the suitcase full of albums from 1991 that I was required to leave behind.
3) Wow. 1987 was easy.
4) I wish I listened to '80s rap in the '80s, instead of the silence (because I didn't listen to the radio) followed by the Paula Abdul (because I did) that I actually listened to. When I discovered groups like Run-D.M.C., N.W.A., and Public Enemy in college, I realized how many gaping holes there were (and still are) in my music library, despite my claims of listening to everything...
5) ...kinda like when I discovered the Dixie Chicks and country music, a genre which I'm still getting to know. You can mock me if you want -- but I'd much rather you actually recommend stuff to me. Statements like "I listen to everything... except country" sound uninformed, prejudiced, and just plain dumb to me now -- even though I said that for years. Does anyone remember when I said the same thing about rap back in 1993? We all saw how that turned out.
6) I love the '90s. Blah blah blah.
7) I swear I didn't cheat and cherry pick my all-time favorite artists (non-Beatles category). But most of them are here, from the Smashing Pumpkins to the Beastie Boys to Tori Amos. (Congratulations to two-time honoree Fiona Apple. My condolences to zero-time honoree Stone Temple Pilots.) So, while this list is far from perfect, it's a great introduction to the artists and music I love -- and to me.
8) Your turn!
December 6, 2008
Song Sketches: Guns N' Roses
Welcome to the Jungle
This is how a life begins: Screams and blood and a miracle, supposedly.
As if the pain will go away, as if our dreams aren’t fictional.
This is how a nightmare sounds.
This is how it feels to live.
This is not a music review.
Don’t Cry
She tells him goodbye. He hangs up the phone. He closes the door to his room.
He’s alone.
He replays the call, and the sweetest month before it. Clumsy kisses, furtive hands, the meteoric crash of his heart to the floor. Over and over and over... It’s over. Thirty days in fourteen years. A lifetime left to mourn the loss.
Find the tape. Rewind it. Listen.
Rewind it. Listen.
Rewind it. Sing.
He sits, he remembers, he cries to himself, like no one else has ever cried. No one else can understand, since no one else has ever loved. No one else has ever lost. No one else? It’s what he wants.
He doesn’t understand himself.
Forgive, forget, move on? He’ll try. First, this song, these chords, that voice: “I still love you.” Ha! A lie. “There’s a heaven above you.” Doubt it. “Don’t you cry-y-y tonight.” Too late.
Over and over and over, he listens.
Lifetimes later, notes stay held.
Someone, maybe, understands.
Someone, somewhere, loves him. Maybe.
November Rain
Rainy-day metaphors, calendar rhymes, the sugary sweetness of wedding-cake frosting.
Orchestral bombast. Choir-girl pomp. Not one solo, but two, both epic.
High-school poetry set to music. The single most grandiose rock single ever.
Walking riders. Changing hearts.
Holding a candle in spite of the rain.
Everybody needs some time alone.
Everybody needs... just everybody needs.
The wedding won’t happen, but this is the song.
That’s how much it means to me.
It’s something like faith: Unprovable. Ineffable.
Something to avoid if you see me with a pamphlet.
Patience
Expecting a singer to understand is dumber than the singer.
Waiting for him for seventeen years is something close to lunacy.
I’d whistle along, if I knew how to do it.
This is how the music feels.
Rocket Queen
This is how an album should end: not with a bang, but the whimper of a woman, singing a duet of ecstacy, depravity.
As soft and loud, as pretty and ugly, as frank and totally full of shit as every human being.
Give it a spin, and see if you hear it.
Or listen to those songs of yours that move you to aphasia.
This is how a life begins: Screams and blood and a miracle, supposedly.
As if the pain will go away, as if our dreams aren’t fictional.
This is how a nightmare sounds.
This is how it feels to live.
This is not a music review.
Don’t Cry
She tells him goodbye. He hangs up the phone. He closes the door to his room.
He’s alone.
He replays the call, and the sweetest month before it. Clumsy kisses, furtive hands, the meteoric crash of his heart to the floor. Over and over and over... It’s over. Thirty days in fourteen years. A lifetime left to mourn the loss.
Find the tape. Rewind it. Listen.
Rewind it. Listen.
Rewind it. Sing.
He sits, he remembers, he cries to himself, like no one else has ever cried. No one else can understand, since no one else has ever loved. No one else has ever lost. No one else? It’s what he wants.
He doesn’t understand himself.
Forgive, forget, move on? He’ll try. First, this song, these chords, that voice: “I still love you.” Ha! A lie. “There’s a heaven above you.” Doubt it. “Don’t you cry-y-y tonight.” Too late.
Over and over and over, he listens.
Lifetimes later, notes stay held.
Someone, maybe, understands.
Someone, somewhere, loves him. Maybe.
November Rain
Rainy-day metaphors, calendar rhymes, the sugary sweetness of wedding-cake frosting.
Orchestral bombast. Choir-girl pomp. Not one solo, but two, both epic.
High-school poetry set to music. The single most grandiose rock single ever.
Walking riders. Changing hearts.
Holding a candle in spite of the rain.
Everybody needs some time alone.
Everybody needs... just everybody needs.
The wedding won’t happen, but this is the song.
That’s how much it means to me.
It’s something like faith: Unprovable. Ineffable.
Something to avoid if you see me with a pamphlet.
Patience
Expecting a singer to understand is dumber than the singer.
Waiting for him for seventeen years is something close to lunacy.
I’d whistle along, if I knew how to do it.
This is how the music feels.
Rocket Queen
This is how an album should end: not with a bang, but the whimper of a woman, singing a duet of ecstacy, depravity.
As soft and loud, as pretty and ugly, as frank and totally full of shit as every human being.
Give it a spin, and see if you hear it.
Or listen to those songs of yours that move you to aphasia.
January 13, 2008
My Top 11 Albums of 2007
Plot Synopsis
Tired of seeing a certain kind of list – the very same albums, described the same way, year after year in different publications – our critic sits down to craft something special, or at least something different than a Metacritic rundown.
Thus, this unconventional, and probably crazy, format.
Not that I hate consensus – I don’t – but these are the albums I listened to the most, the ones that meant the most to me, whether or not they’re the quote/unquote best. I long ago decided I wouldn’t write objectively, considering that’s not how we interact with music.
Some of these albums you’ve probably heard – or read all about on another year-end list – so here they are again in their universal glory. The others, like Eisley, perhaps you’ll seek out, just because they’re really good, and maybe even different.
All of these albums mattered to me. Telling you why seems equally important.
Setting
My apartment, the office, and especially my car, and anywhere else I listened to music.
Cast of Characters
1. Once Soundtrack
A busker wearing his scruff on his sleeve. A stranger with a voice of gold. They meet just once, and everyone knows, their music is better together, forever. Picture them, hear them, as your most romantic self, perhaps at a time when you weren’t afraid to sing, and maybe you’ll discover the music in yourself. Meet them once; you won’t forget. The truest art they’ll ever create, the most real magic they’ll ever make, their music is simple, heartfelt, timeless – and still not crushed by the weight of such hyperbole. It helps if you yourself play guitar, or if you’ve ever been in love. The guy wears sweaters. The girl wears a scarf. Both of them walk with grim determination, but also with the bounce of hope in their step. Voices carry; chords are struck. Once is not, is never, enough.
2. Rufus Wainwright - Release the Stars
Ebullient, joyous, glorious, fey. Baroque, operatic, phantasmagoric, happy. A genius unbound from commercial expectations, he’s free to compose and perform his own fate, vamping on stage like the diva he is; twinkling, in his suit of mirrors, as if he were a star, as if he were the brightest light his music helps you reach. His honeyed voice engenders doubt – perhaps you want to be him, yes? The spotlight shines. You make a wish. He sings as if he’ll grant it.
3. Rilo Kiley - Under the Blacklight
The girl next door you want to corrupt. The girl gone bad you want to hug. L.A. lady, blue jean baby... dancing in some smoky bar where indie kids grow up. Charming, flirting, teasing, seducing, she still sounds sweet and sorta surprised, the way her voice attracts attention, the way the men behind her play. She knows she can get whatever she wants, whatever that means, whatever the sound, cooing or purring or belting it out – so what does she want? A band? A boyfriend? A chance to make, and shake, some money? She sells herself, but she does it with conviction. Which only makes you want her more.
4. Eisley - Combinations
The house band of idealized youth. The very kids you wish you’d been. Cute, precocious, potentially unlimited, they’re growing up quickly before your ears. Amazing, astonishing, aspiring to greatness, they play as if their dreams are timed, as if they know how fast youth fades. It’s humbling, too, how nice they sound, how talented they clearly are, how lyrically wistful despite their youth – and oh, you condescend to them, and oh, you sell them short, just because you’re way too old and no one plays your songs. They’re not a band of young adults, they’re just an awesome band. That’s all. They’re not the former whiz kids yet. They’re living in their moment, now. They’re people you wish you could hear all the time, as happy as they make you feel.
5. Brandi Carlile – The Story
Country, folk, acoustic rock? She tries to write the truth she’s learned. No one knows how fierce she is. Until she opens her mouth to sing. Until she makes you listen.
6. Kanye West – Graduation
The guy who knows how good he is... at popping everyone’s expectations. A blend of spaceman, mall rat, and B-boy, he stomps to the beat of a different scratched record. A guy you sorta want to punch. But that would only stop the party.
7. Common – Finding Forever
Kanye’s older, wiser brother. Knows the importance of being earnest. Drops bon mots like a black Oscar Wilde. Consciously (?) rocks the conscious tag. Sounding smooth is what he does. Jealous, perhaps, but he hides it well. This dude brings the peace and love.
8. Lily Allen - Alright, Still
The kind of girl you shouldn’t fear, a girl with maybe more problems than you, the least of which is a penchant for reggae. Dancing, drinking, getting dumped, she’s an adorable sloppy mess. Picture her sloshed and stumbling, but hot, enough to where you’ll take her home, as long as she keeps that cute British accent. Plus, she tells a wicked joke. And it’s not like she’s Amy Winehouse or anything. She’s actually nicer than all of this sounds. But yes, spending time with her requires some finesse, a certain concentration to her brash yet pretty voice. Make her amusing, she’s one of the girls. Make her mean, you hate that chick. The line between charm and smarm is thin. To get it, you have to listen again, exposing the cracks beneath the veneer, the doubts beneath the bad-ass facade. Listen again, you kinda relate. Even if you’re not a chick.
9. Tori Amos – American Doll Posse
Quoted from the text: “I am an M.I.L.F., don’t you forget.” Albeit incomplete and lacking in context, it remains one option for playing this character. Feminist texts and wigs aren’t included; her sharpest tunes in years sure are.
10. Arcade Fire – Neon Bible
You already know how this band’s supposed to sound, either from hearing them or from reading about them everywhere. And yet, the sheer size of their sound still surprises. Outfit them in military garb and nontraditional instruments. Give them memorable slogans for choruses. Listen, watch, enjoy. Repeat.
11. Fall Out Boy – Infinity on High
OK, you definitely want to punch them. One of these dudes is proficient in makeup; the others are better at selling catchy choruses. Remember the screaming, 12-year-old extras – and maybe yourself, if you’re not afraid to sing. Disregard the fact that you’re almost twenty-nine, a generation older than most of their fans. Surprise yourself by giving them a chance, and then by how often you play their little screeds. But only if you’re open to that kind of thing, and if your wrists are still intact.
December 16, 2007
Maybe Next Time
Future Favorites. 100 Words.
Albums Too Recent to Rank Just Yet
1. Eisley - Room Noises
“What are you into? What do you listen to?” (Meaningless getting-to-know-you chatter.)
“Oh, you know, a little bit of everything.” (Canonical bands and genres and opinions. Everything unimpeachably cool.)
But let me sing the catchy truth: My one-word answer would have to be “Eisley,” whose whimsical tunefulness is now my favorite sound. Or else I’d play “Golly Sandra” on repeat, letting the magic speak for itself: Melody, harmony, lushness, perfection. The cutest little stutter at the start of the verse. Coldplay fronted by teenage girls.
As amazing as they were as kids, it’s scary to imagine how awesome they’ll become.
2. Once Soundtrack
Yes, I know I’m repeating myself. But how many times can you say it, and mean it? Everything about this project rings true. This movie, this music, changed my life. (Would you believe it bettered me, at least?) The music I’ve wanted to write my whole life, as heard in a movie I’ve wanted to live, Once inspired me never to quit: writing, singing, dreaming, living. Repeating myself, if that’s what it takes, to force my fate to get here already. I’ll play my songs and listen for yours, and maybe, one day, we’ll sing them together. Surely, you understand.
3. Brandi Carlile - Brandi Carlile
To me, her music feels like America: hopeful, defiant, worth getting lost in. To others, I guess, it feels like VH1, or maybe even CMT: rootsy, folksy, not worth defending, which means I have to proselytize harder, and sing its praises until I’m hoarse. It’s a belief I simply have to share, an ideal much greater than I can explain, a mixtape track you need to hear. It’s raw and real, perhaps too much. It’s not a trick of her down-home production. So far, I’ve only converted two friends – just as a friend converted me. Still, I have to try.
4. KT Tunstall - Eye to the Telescope
I frequently talk about growing out of rock, a process that began, in earnest, ten years ago. Still, on the eve of my high school reunion, I sometimes feign shock at how much I’ve changed, or really, how seldom I listen to dudes. Instead, all the time, I listen to women: Tori, Aimee, and now, KT Tunstall, who sells her words and never herself, even though her sexy growl could talk me into anything. The sexiest thing is how fiercely she plays, pounding her guitar like a washtub bass, layering her chords like storm clouds coming in. Actually, she rocks.
5. Death Cab For Cutie - Plans
A group of guys I view as peers, Death Cab makes music to pine over girls to. Offering insights on life and love, their music says more than I would ever dare. For pensive, well-read, sad-sack dudes, the lyrics and sounds of these songs provide solace, a chance to commiserate without getting messy, or otherwise leaving my cozy apartment. Or otherwise dealing with living, breathing people. I joined the Death Cab fan club late, long after Adam Brody exposed them, but now I can’t picture a life without Death Cab, or a band so great with such a stupid name.
Albums Too Recent to Rank Just Yet
1. Eisley - Room Noises
“What are you into? What do you listen to?” (Meaningless getting-to-know-you chatter.)
“Oh, you know, a little bit of everything.” (Canonical bands and genres and opinions. Everything unimpeachably cool.)
But let me sing the catchy truth: My one-word answer would have to be “Eisley,” whose whimsical tunefulness is now my favorite sound. Or else I’d play “Golly Sandra” on repeat, letting the magic speak for itself: Melody, harmony, lushness, perfection. The cutest little stutter at the start of the verse. Coldplay fronted by teenage girls.
As amazing as they were as kids, it’s scary to imagine how awesome they’ll become.
2. Once Soundtrack
Yes, I know I’m repeating myself. But how many times can you say it, and mean it? Everything about this project rings true. This movie, this music, changed my life. (Would you believe it bettered me, at least?) The music I’ve wanted to write my whole life, as heard in a movie I’ve wanted to live, Once inspired me never to quit: writing, singing, dreaming, living. Repeating myself, if that’s what it takes, to force my fate to get here already. I’ll play my songs and listen for yours, and maybe, one day, we’ll sing them together. Surely, you understand.
3. Brandi Carlile - Brandi Carlile
To me, her music feels like America: hopeful, defiant, worth getting lost in. To others, I guess, it feels like VH1, or maybe even CMT: rootsy, folksy, not worth defending, which means I have to proselytize harder, and sing its praises until I’m hoarse. It’s a belief I simply have to share, an ideal much greater than I can explain, a mixtape track you need to hear. It’s raw and real, perhaps too much. It’s not a trick of her down-home production. So far, I’ve only converted two friends – just as a friend converted me. Still, I have to try.
4. KT Tunstall - Eye to the Telescope
I frequently talk about growing out of rock, a process that began, in earnest, ten years ago. Still, on the eve of my high school reunion, I sometimes feign shock at how much I’ve changed, or really, how seldom I listen to dudes. Instead, all the time, I listen to women: Tori, Aimee, and now, KT Tunstall, who sells her words and never herself, even though her sexy growl could talk me into anything. The sexiest thing is how fiercely she plays, pounding her guitar like a washtub bass, layering her chords like storm clouds coming in. Actually, she rocks.
5. Death Cab For Cutie - Plans
A group of guys I view as peers, Death Cab makes music to pine over girls to. Offering insights on life and love, their music says more than I would ever dare. For pensive, well-read, sad-sack dudes, the lyrics and sounds of these songs provide solace, a chance to commiserate without getting messy, or otherwise leaving my cozy apartment. Or otherwise dealing with living, breathing people. I joined the Death Cab fan club late, long after Adam Brody exposed them, but now I can’t picture a life without Death Cab, or a band so great with such a stupid name.
November 11, 2007
1-10: Abbey Road to Paul’s Boutique
1. Beatles - Abbey Road
Why? Because there’s no other choice. This is my favorite work of art ever. It’s certainly the album I’ve listened to the most, driving cross-country, or prepping for work, or writing and dreaming and seeking perfection. The prettiest melodies. The most transcendent harmonies. The goofiest lyrics. The phattest bass. George sings his best song ever. Ringo sings his best song ever. Lennon/McCartney’s a duel till “The End.” John almost freestyle raps, Paul believes he’s writing a symphony, and everything crescendoes with love, love, love: The meaning of life. A shiver down the spine. Drumming on the steering wheel, singing along.
2. Jeff Buckley - Grace
The voice alone can break your heart. The music by itself can move you to weeping. It’s hard not to hear this album as a requiem – not for the artist, but for your “Grace”-less self. Play it once; I double dare you. That’s all it took for me to be saved. The ignorant, pre-“Grace” person was dead, replaced by this person whose zeal is probably scaring you. Sorry for witnessing so goddamn ardently. To quote Roget instead of Christ, the album is a classic, a masterpiece, a paragon. The passion of an artist. The voice of an angel.
3. Guns N’ Roses - Appetite for Destruction
Amazing? Awesome? Radical? Ridiculous! From the skulls on the cover to Axl’s shouts of “Yowzas!” everything about this album should suck. Everything seems like something to scorn, now that I’m older and wiser and lamer, more prone to reading feminist texts than listening to hatred packaged as pop. But underneath Axl’s schizophrenic voices, underneath Slash’s xenophobic riffs, I’m hearing something lonely and scared. I feel the way I felt at eleven, ugly and angry, but beautiful inside. Almost two decades after I bought it, I still play this cassette all the time. It never ceases to make me jog faster.
4. Nirvana - Nevermind
Let me recount my musical biography: Loving family. Suburban home. Smart and shy. Creative and curious. Naturally, I listened to antisocial rock, the stuff young Catholics hide from their parents, which, in the early ‘90s, was grunge. I was a freshman when Kurt Cobain killed himself. I’m a walking ‘90s cliche! Maybe these facts will make me original: I listened to this album en route to losing wrestling meets. I had to look up some of its words, particularly “mulatto,” “libido,” and “lithium.” I wrote a placement essay about it, earning the highest possible score. Hearing it still saddens me.
5. Billy Joel - The Stranger
Mostly, I hated the music of my parents, a genre known as “easy listening.” Billy Joel probably seemed rockin’ to them. Two years in a row, which they probably don’t remember, my parents gave me a Joel tape for Christmas. I didn’t really know him, and I certainly hadn’t asked, but the coolest thing is, my parents guessed correctly. One of these gifts was a perfect pop album, track after track of songs I wish I’d written, one of which I sang in my American Idol tryout. This gift gave me the joy of music. My parents rock after all.
6. Stone Temple Pilots - Purple
Fuck Scott Weiland. There. I said it. If not for his struggles with heroin and heroines, this band could’ve ruled the ‘90s, rocking even more, or more often, than they did. They could’ve kept improving on their murky, grungy start, and raced the Smashing Pumpkins to an arty, poppy finish. They could’ve become my favorite band. Instead, they raced my other idols: early dissolution through self-destruction, testing and finally failing their fans. At least they made this masterpiece. Ever love something beyond all common sense, beyond the critical and cultural consensus? This is my band. I can’t explain it further.
7. Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes
To all the women I’ve ever misunderstood:
Play the piano and sing. I’ll get it. At least I’ll try. I really will. I’ll study your voice and learn from your words. I’ll listen to you and fall in love again. Please tell me everything, so clearly yet poetically, so I can know all your desires and fears: Love and lust and body and family. Being late and getting raped and feeling scorned by men. You try to melodize, and I’ll try to empathize. I promise to try my best. I promise.
I know I’ve failed. I hear what you’re saying.
8. Pink Floyd - The Dark Side of the Moon
Four bored kids on a quiet summer night, stuck in the St. Louis suburbs, unless...
“Let’s go out, man. Let’s do something.”
“How 'bout the laser light show?”
We jumped in the car and drove downtown, singing along to Live and Bush. Actually, we didn’t know much about the Floyd. Also, remember, we were all good kids. Our pockets were free of paraphernalia.
We payed the fee. The room went dark. Lasers and stars and spinning and sound. My mind was blown to smithereens.
“This must be what being high feels like.”
I bought the album the very next day.
9. Radiohead - OK Computer
Can you believe I bought this album used? Whoever sold it back was a faulty machine, a radio automaton, a man without a head. This is the reason I shop for used CDs, the bargain I hope to find in the bins, the baby refusing to drown in the bath. As awesomely dystopic as 1984, with scarier riffage than 1984, this is the soundtrack to science-fiction nightmares, a desert-planet pick of both me and HAL 9000. This album is so awesome it’s scary. This album is so scary it’s awesome. Awesome, scary... Scary, awesome.... A broken record, dancing the robot.
10. Beastie Boys - Paul’s Boutique
College gave me so many things: friendship, love, a trip to Australia, mad writing skillz, and respect for good hip-hop. I opened my ears and let myself listen. I browsed the local bargain bins and got an education. I learned what I probably should’ve learned in high school: Everyone needs some rap in their lives. Sorry for projecting myself onto everyone. Also, sorry for being white. But everyone needs a song about egging. Everyone needs to go, “What the hell was that?” as this one bouillabaisse mashes up everything. Everyone needs to hear science getting dropped. Misappropriation is totally fun!!!
Why? Because there’s no other choice. This is my favorite work of art ever. It’s certainly the album I’ve listened to the most, driving cross-country, or prepping for work, or writing and dreaming and seeking perfection. The prettiest melodies. The most transcendent harmonies. The goofiest lyrics. The phattest bass. George sings his best song ever. Ringo sings his best song ever. Lennon/McCartney’s a duel till “The End.” John almost freestyle raps, Paul believes he’s writing a symphony, and everything crescendoes with love, love, love: The meaning of life. A shiver down the spine. Drumming on the steering wheel, singing along.
2. Jeff Buckley - Grace
The voice alone can break your heart. The music by itself can move you to weeping. It’s hard not to hear this album as a requiem – not for the artist, but for your “Grace”-less self. Play it once; I double dare you. That’s all it took for me to be saved. The ignorant, pre-“Grace” person was dead, replaced by this person whose zeal is probably scaring you. Sorry for witnessing so goddamn ardently. To quote Roget instead of Christ, the album is a classic, a masterpiece, a paragon. The passion of an artist. The voice of an angel.
3. Guns N’ Roses - Appetite for Destruction
Amazing? Awesome? Radical? Ridiculous! From the skulls on the cover to Axl’s shouts of “Yowzas!” everything about this album should suck. Everything seems like something to scorn, now that I’m older and wiser and lamer, more prone to reading feminist texts than listening to hatred packaged as pop. But underneath Axl’s schizophrenic voices, underneath Slash’s xenophobic riffs, I’m hearing something lonely and scared. I feel the way I felt at eleven, ugly and angry, but beautiful inside. Almost two decades after I bought it, I still play this cassette all the time. It never ceases to make me jog faster.
4. Nirvana - Nevermind
Let me recount my musical biography: Loving family. Suburban home. Smart and shy. Creative and curious. Naturally, I listened to antisocial rock, the stuff young Catholics hide from their parents, which, in the early ‘90s, was grunge. I was a freshman when Kurt Cobain killed himself. I’m a walking ‘90s cliche! Maybe these facts will make me original: I listened to this album en route to losing wrestling meets. I had to look up some of its words, particularly “mulatto,” “libido,” and “lithium.” I wrote a placement essay about it, earning the highest possible score. Hearing it still saddens me.
5. Billy Joel - The Stranger
Mostly, I hated the music of my parents, a genre known as “easy listening.” Billy Joel probably seemed rockin’ to them. Two years in a row, which they probably don’t remember, my parents gave me a Joel tape for Christmas. I didn’t really know him, and I certainly hadn’t asked, but the coolest thing is, my parents guessed correctly. One of these gifts was a perfect pop album, track after track of songs I wish I’d written, one of which I sang in my American Idol tryout. This gift gave me the joy of music. My parents rock after all.
6. Stone Temple Pilots - Purple
Fuck Scott Weiland. There. I said it. If not for his struggles with heroin and heroines, this band could’ve ruled the ‘90s, rocking even more, or more often, than they did. They could’ve kept improving on their murky, grungy start, and raced the Smashing Pumpkins to an arty, poppy finish. They could’ve become my favorite band. Instead, they raced my other idols: early dissolution through self-destruction, testing and finally failing their fans. At least they made this masterpiece. Ever love something beyond all common sense, beyond the critical and cultural consensus? This is my band. I can’t explain it further.
7. Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes
To all the women I’ve ever misunderstood:
Play the piano and sing. I’ll get it. At least I’ll try. I really will. I’ll study your voice and learn from your words. I’ll listen to you and fall in love again. Please tell me everything, so clearly yet poetically, so I can know all your desires and fears: Love and lust and body and family. Being late and getting raped and feeling scorned by men. You try to melodize, and I’ll try to empathize. I promise to try my best. I promise.
I know I’ve failed. I hear what you’re saying.
8. Pink Floyd - The Dark Side of the Moon
Four bored kids on a quiet summer night, stuck in the St. Louis suburbs, unless...
“Let’s go out, man. Let’s do something.”
“How 'bout the laser light show?”
We jumped in the car and drove downtown, singing along to Live and Bush. Actually, we didn’t know much about the Floyd. Also, remember, we were all good kids. Our pockets were free of paraphernalia.
We payed the fee. The room went dark. Lasers and stars and spinning and sound. My mind was blown to smithereens.
“This must be what being high feels like.”
I bought the album the very next day.
9. Radiohead - OK Computer
Can you believe I bought this album used? Whoever sold it back was a faulty machine, a radio automaton, a man without a head. This is the reason I shop for used CDs, the bargain I hope to find in the bins, the baby refusing to drown in the bath. As awesomely dystopic as 1984, with scarier riffage than 1984, this is the soundtrack to science-fiction nightmares, a desert-planet pick of both me and HAL 9000. This album is so awesome it’s scary. This album is so scary it’s awesome. Awesome, scary... Scary, awesome.... A broken record, dancing the robot.
10. Beastie Boys - Paul’s Boutique
College gave me so many things: friendship, love, a trip to Australia, mad writing skillz, and respect for good hip-hop. I opened my ears and let myself listen. I browsed the local bargain bins and got an education. I learned what I probably should’ve learned in high school: Everyone needs some rap in their lives. Sorry for projecting myself onto everyone. Also, sorry for being white. But everyone needs a song about egging. Everyone needs to go, “What the hell was that?” as this one bouillabaisse mashes up everything. Everyone needs to hear science getting dropped. Misappropriation is totally fun!!!
11-20: The White Album to Siamese Dream
11. Beatles - The White Album
Pop Quiz
True/False
1) “Helter Skelter” is heavier than metal.
2) This is the album where Paul became my favorite.
3) One time, at a Yankees game, I saw Paul on the JumboTron! Both of us were watching the very same game!! Both of us were sitting in the same freakin’ stadium!!! This was by far the highlight of the game.
4) I’m a better person for having heard The Beatles.
Essays
5) Why do I cover “Rocky Raccoon”?
6) Why do I tolerate “Revolution 9"?
7) Great double album, or greatest double album?
8) Review your favorite Beatles memory.
12. Pearl Jam - Ten
Eddie Vedder probably hates me. I totally respect the last grunge band standing. I totally agree the president sucks. My Pearl Jam tapes are totally worn out. But I haven’t cared about Pearl Jam in a decade. I miss the riffs they used to write. I miss the reverb on Vedder’s voice. I miss the fervor I felt for four albums – one or two more than most former fans – even though they’ve put out x albums since. (Seriously, Eddie, I don’t even know.) I must miss high school, and even junior high, considering how often I still play its soundtrack.
13. Beck - Sea Change
Sometimes, this album rocks me to sleep. Sure, I play it other times, too: whenever I want to feel understood, whenever I want to commiserate with someone, and during long drives with all these other albums. But this is my favorite insomnia music. I play it when other treatments have failed: late-night talk shows, melatonin, milk. I fear I’m making the music sound boring, when actually, to me, it couldn’t sound more beautiful. Quiet, gentle, melodic, sad, it hushes and soothes and colors my dreams. A concept album, or maybe a lullaby, it breaks my heart instead of a bough.
14. Ben Folds Five - Whatever and Ever Amen
The Shit
Ben Folds is a geek like me,
Writing’ white boy poetry,
Listenin’ to Dr. Dre,
Droppin’ dope shit every day.
Clearly, Ben Folds is a better
Singer, writer, and whatever.
Still, I do suspect that Ben
Writes some bad shit now and then.
Ballads, bangers, clever, classic,
Better than the park Jurassic.
Crackin’ wise, but soundin’ smart?
That’s the shit that breaks my heart.
Now I’m older than I was.
Still, I listen, just because.
Even though I don’t have kids,
Love the cartoon shit he did.
Sorry, Ben, for bein’ shitty.
Next time, I’ll say somethin’ pretty.
15. Elliott Smith - XO
Elliott, thanks, man. What can I say? Nothing you haven’t heard before, probably. Nothing to return the favor of your life. Your playing, your singing, sounded like a friend. Your music made me feel less alone. The sadness – the truth – in your songs helped me cope. “Cope with what?” you ask, maybe angry. “Clinical depression? A heroin habit? Increasingly prophetic suicidal thoughts?” Yes, you’re right; I don’t understand. Yes, I know; my sympathy is futile. Yes, this letter is overwrought. Still, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more. Sorry my fandom wasn’t enough. Thanks, again, for giving me your music.
16. Rufus Wainwright - Want One
Why isn’t this guy massively famous? Fine, he lisps, and his lyrics are flaming, but this guy’s songs deserve to be standards. Broadway stars should belt them out. Toddlers should sing them at preschool assemblies. Literature geeks should study their metaphors. Poor Elton John should weep into his rhinestones. This guy rewrites the history of pop – Tin Pan Alley, rock ‘n’ roll, sensitive singer/songwriter sap – swinging for the fences and never ever missing, taking a bat to popular cliches. See what I did there? He’d never do that. Instead, he’d make up something new, something to envy forever and ever.
17. Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Catchier than the common cold! Is it clear yet The Beatles are my all-time favorite band? Number Seventeen – my all-time favorite number – is The Beatles’ third appearance on my all-time favorites list. When I was seventeen, before I wussied out, they might’ve scored even higher than this, higher than women (sorry, Tori!) and artists outside of the grunge-rock canon (Beatle-esque guys like Elliott and Ben). Of course, my boys Aerosmith would’ve been here, too. And lots of Van Halen – and even Van Hagar. But my love of The Beatles has grown as I’ve aged. My listening frequency has never diminished.
18. Aimee Mann - Lost in Space
Thanks to Magnolia, I knew she was amazing, hearing her songs in the mouths of those characters. Still, I was stunned by her storytelling here, hearing her voice and picturing scenes, even without an accompanying film. That’s why she’s one of my all-time favorite writers, not just of songs, but of anything with words. That’s why I wish I could be Aimee Mann, telling the stories that no one else can, singing the songs that no one else will, finding the comfort in being alone. Isn’t it obvious why these songs strike me? No one’s around to answer my question.
19. Blur - The Great Escape
Sometimes, I’m stricken with a touch of Anglophilia, mostly due to albums like this. Chic, cheeky, rapier witty – if all of England sounds like this, I totally need to go.
When I lived in Australia, this album was my soundtrack. One of several bootlegs I bought at a flea market, this tape was my choice for contemplative bus rides, gazing out the window and seeing the world. I hope to play it on all my future travels.
Also, I imagine “The Universal” everywhere. Possibly, for real, the best song ever.
–Best Beatles Albums: No. 4
–Best Oasis Albums: No. 1
20. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream
I’m jotting this down before the big comeback, before the second coming of the alt-rock Messiah – Billy Corgan, the B-side Jesus – making an angry and beautiful racket, shredding his throat and scorching the earth, beating Axl Rose in the race to risk my fandom, making new music that might not sound like this: the loudest and prettiest dirges and tantrums, youthful anthems that somehow still matter, even more now than ever before, rocking today, in Geek U.S.A., quietly disarmed – a bummer when you hummer – with high school band mates playing different songs. Soon, I’ll discover if we can rise again.
Pop Quiz
True/False
1) “Helter Skelter” is heavier than metal.
2) This is the album where Paul became my favorite.
3) One time, at a Yankees game, I saw Paul on the JumboTron! Both of us were watching the very same game!! Both of us were sitting in the same freakin’ stadium!!! This was by far the highlight of the game.
4) I’m a better person for having heard The Beatles.
Essays
5) Why do I cover “Rocky Raccoon”?
6) Why do I tolerate “Revolution 9"?
7) Great double album, or greatest double album?
8) Review your favorite Beatles memory.
12. Pearl Jam - Ten
Eddie Vedder probably hates me. I totally respect the last grunge band standing. I totally agree the president sucks. My Pearl Jam tapes are totally worn out. But I haven’t cared about Pearl Jam in a decade. I miss the riffs they used to write. I miss the reverb on Vedder’s voice. I miss the fervor I felt for four albums – one or two more than most former fans – even though they’ve put out x albums since. (Seriously, Eddie, I don’t even know.) I must miss high school, and even junior high, considering how often I still play its soundtrack.
13. Beck - Sea Change
Sometimes, this album rocks me to sleep. Sure, I play it other times, too: whenever I want to feel understood, whenever I want to commiserate with someone, and during long drives with all these other albums. But this is my favorite insomnia music. I play it when other treatments have failed: late-night talk shows, melatonin, milk. I fear I’m making the music sound boring, when actually, to me, it couldn’t sound more beautiful. Quiet, gentle, melodic, sad, it hushes and soothes and colors my dreams. A concept album, or maybe a lullaby, it breaks my heart instead of a bough.
14. Ben Folds Five - Whatever and Ever Amen
The Shit
Ben Folds is a geek like me,
Writing’ white boy poetry,
Listenin’ to Dr. Dre,
Droppin’ dope shit every day.
Clearly, Ben Folds is a better
Singer, writer, and whatever.
Still, I do suspect that Ben
Writes some bad shit now and then.
Ballads, bangers, clever, classic,
Better than the park Jurassic.
Crackin’ wise, but soundin’ smart?
That’s the shit that breaks my heart.
Now I’m older than I was.
Still, I listen, just because.
Even though I don’t have kids,
Love the cartoon shit he did.
Sorry, Ben, for bein’ shitty.
Next time, I’ll say somethin’ pretty.
15. Elliott Smith - XO
Elliott, thanks, man. What can I say? Nothing you haven’t heard before, probably. Nothing to return the favor of your life. Your playing, your singing, sounded like a friend. Your music made me feel less alone. The sadness – the truth – in your songs helped me cope. “Cope with what?” you ask, maybe angry. “Clinical depression? A heroin habit? Increasingly prophetic suicidal thoughts?” Yes, you’re right; I don’t understand. Yes, I know; my sympathy is futile. Yes, this letter is overwrought. Still, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more. Sorry my fandom wasn’t enough. Thanks, again, for giving me your music.
16. Rufus Wainwright - Want One
Why isn’t this guy massively famous? Fine, he lisps, and his lyrics are flaming, but this guy’s songs deserve to be standards. Broadway stars should belt them out. Toddlers should sing them at preschool assemblies. Literature geeks should study their metaphors. Poor Elton John should weep into his rhinestones. This guy rewrites the history of pop – Tin Pan Alley, rock ‘n’ roll, sensitive singer/songwriter sap – swinging for the fences and never ever missing, taking a bat to popular cliches. See what I did there? He’d never do that. Instead, he’d make up something new, something to envy forever and ever.
17. Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Catchier than the common cold! Is it clear yet The Beatles are my all-time favorite band? Number Seventeen – my all-time favorite number – is The Beatles’ third appearance on my all-time favorites list. When I was seventeen, before I wussied out, they might’ve scored even higher than this, higher than women (sorry, Tori!) and artists outside of the grunge-rock canon (Beatle-esque guys like Elliott and Ben). Of course, my boys Aerosmith would’ve been here, too. And lots of Van Halen – and even Van Hagar. But my love of The Beatles has grown as I’ve aged. My listening frequency has never diminished.
18. Aimee Mann - Lost in Space
Thanks to Magnolia, I knew she was amazing, hearing her songs in the mouths of those characters. Still, I was stunned by her storytelling here, hearing her voice and picturing scenes, even without an accompanying film. That’s why she’s one of my all-time favorite writers, not just of songs, but of anything with words. That’s why I wish I could be Aimee Mann, telling the stories that no one else can, singing the songs that no one else will, finding the comfort in being alone. Isn’t it obvious why these songs strike me? No one’s around to answer my question.
19. Blur - The Great Escape
Sometimes, I’m stricken with a touch of Anglophilia, mostly due to albums like this. Chic, cheeky, rapier witty – if all of England sounds like this, I totally need to go.
When I lived in Australia, this album was my soundtrack. One of several bootlegs I bought at a flea market, this tape was my choice for contemplative bus rides, gazing out the window and seeing the world. I hope to play it on all my future travels.
Also, I imagine “The Universal” everywhere. Possibly, for real, the best song ever.
–Best Beatles Albums: No. 4
–Best Oasis Albums: No. 1
20. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream
I’m jotting this down before the big comeback, before the second coming of the alt-rock Messiah – Billy Corgan, the B-side Jesus – making an angry and beautiful racket, shredding his throat and scorching the earth, beating Axl Rose in the race to risk my fandom, making new music that might not sound like this: the loudest and prettiest dirges and tantrums, youthful anthems that somehow still matter, even more now than ever before, rocking today, in Geek U.S.A., quietly disarmed – a bummer when you hummer – with high school band mates playing different songs. Soon, I’ll discover if we can rise again.
21-30: Blood Sugar Sex Magic to Speakerboxxx/The Love Below
21. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Blood Sugar Sex Magic
This is for Fred, wherever he is.
Fred was artistic, zany, and fun. We’d sit around or drive around and talk about nothing – which, at the time, meant everything to us – playing this album over and over, rapping along to even the B-sides: raunchy tunes like “Sir Psycho Sexy,” whose every obscenity I still know by heart. If any two people can truly have a song, this whole album belonged to us.
But after graduation, we drifted apart. He’s married now, with a couple of stepkids. His sister says he’s found religion.
I wonder if he still knows the words.
22. Weezer - The Blue Album
After the death of Kurt Cobain, I turned to Weezer for songs I could sing. Nerds like me had a new favorite band. After my arrival at Truman State University, I couldn’t turn a corner without hearing Weezer. Liberal arts kids loved that shit. Was it the jokes? The glasses? The sweaters? The fact that the singer was going to Harvard? Throughout my life, I’ve envied Rivers Cuomo: his effortless way with a powerful chorus, his unironic love of a blistering solo, his total domination of a three-minute form. Today, I remain a student of songcraft. Weezer continues giving advice.
23. Hole - Live Through This
Hate the singer. Love the songs. I crave them more than almost any others. Unless you were born around 1979 – plus or minus, what, two years? – and you couldn’t care less about the idea of “authenticity,” you’re probably like, “Really? You like this piece of shit?” and I’m like, “Yes, goddammit, I do.” It reminds me of the years when women used to scare me, as Courtney Love screamed her version of the truth. In fact, it reminds me of the last time I played it – way the hell back in 2007 – when women still scared the bejesus out of me.
24. Pink Floyd - The Wall
Pop Quiz
True/False
9) I like double albums, including ones with films.
10) If the music’s good, I only want more.
11) I don’t believe in downloading singles.
12) Basically, I’m a musical dinosaur.
Choose Your Own Adventure
13) You are an intern for Spin magazine. Your boss is the hippest person you’ve ever met. Her two favorite genres are indie rock and techno. Unfortunately, a Pink Floyd tribute band is the only band you’ve seen so far in New York.
Do you write a review and reveal that you’re a poser – or not write anything for Spin.com at all?
25. Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
Another double album! Yes!!
Perhaps this album is overindulgent. Perhaps Billy Corgan’s voice is too shrill. Perhaps these lyrics suggest a troubled mind – yes, for the writer, but also for the listener. Still, I’d defend this album as a masterpiece: one whose messiness keeps it cohesive, one whose obtuseness makes it understandable. The biggest CD by my peer group’s biggest band. Song for song, the grandest statement. Track for track, the greatest value. So many singles, dazzling in their difference. So much emotion, all of it dark. Even the font enhances the spookiness. Basically, no, I wouldn’t change a thing.
26. R.E.M. - Automatic for the People
I wouldn’t say I love R.E.M. Although I like them, very, very much, I usually forget to list them as a favorite. I don’t obsess over Michael Stipe’s lyrics. I probably own less than half of their albums. When I think of R.E.M., I think of other people: former band mates (for just one summer), former co-editors (for one whole year), who worshiped this band and cherished this album, who played it so often I missed it when they stopped. “Sweetness Follows?” It surely did. The sweetest and saddest reminder of friends, of nostalgia they probably don’t know they inspired.
27. Metallica - The Black Album
Some of my favorite Metallica moments: Hearing this album for the first time in middle school, at a party in the basement of a girl I had a crush on. Learning the notes to “Nothing Else Matters,” as taught by exchange students from Spain and Brazil. Cruising through St. Louis with my friend from Vietnam, rocking out to Metallica, Megadeth, and Beethoven. Seeing a roadie on fire at a show. Discussing the album’s production in grad school, all of us agreeing, “It’s pretty much perfect.” Hearing “Enter Sandman” at a piano bar this year. Sharing Pat Boone’s version with everyone.
28. Eminem - The Marshall Mathers L.P.
The Marshall Mathers Poem
Marshall Mathers poses problems
“Stan” (with Dido!) can’t resolve ‘em
Killing Kim and Chris Kirkpatrick
Wack? Offensive? Stupid? Classic?
Baffling critics, gaffling gays
Mothers sued and mothers slayed
Truthfulness or total fiction?
Damn, the dude has crazy diction
Marshall Mathers, entertainer
Kept a lawyer on retainer
I cannot defend myself
Keeping Marshall on the shelf
In between the best CDs
Of Missy E. And Eric B.
Even though we rap along
Put another record on
Put another rapper on
Who won’t pretend to rape his mom
Marshall Mathers made a million
Making music for the children?
29. The Notorious B.I.G. - Ready to Die
It took several years of (my) life after (his) death, but I finally understand why other rappers worship him. (I hate myself for dismissing him earlier.) It took several spins, but I worship him, too. (I hate the world for dismissing him early.) Believe the hype: Biggie Smalls is the illest, spitting with charm, charisma, and courage; spinning stories of shock and awww; mythologizing murder, mayhem, and Mom. I listen to Biggie like I watch Scorsese: savoring the stories, feeling the fiction, and disregarding my disbelief. Enter gangsta. Exit suburbia. (I’m Michael Bolton in Office Space, yo.) Vicarious villainy entertains everyone.
30. Outkast - Speakerboxxx/The Love Below
This album features everything I want: Minds expanding. Boundaries breaking. Rhythm. Melody. Wordplay. Humor. Politics. Religion. Friendship. Family. Love. Loss. Life. Pain. Joy. Bitterness. Art. Creation. Pop songs. Love songs. Battles. Jokes. Truth. Realness. Honesty. Fantasy. Stanky funk to shake your booty. Bangin’ beats to bob your head. Dre and Big Boi, still together, pushing, pulling, challenging, changing, daring, dreaming, enlightening, embracing... Hip-hop’s Beatles, hip-hop’s White Album, hip-hop for haters, hip-hop for all... Songs about vampires, Valentines, roosters... Church and war and boom! Amen. This album features everything I need.
– Best Beatles Albums: No. 5
– Best Prince Albums: No. 1
This is for Fred, wherever he is.
Fred was artistic, zany, and fun. We’d sit around or drive around and talk about nothing – which, at the time, meant everything to us – playing this album over and over, rapping along to even the B-sides: raunchy tunes like “Sir Psycho Sexy,” whose every obscenity I still know by heart. If any two people can truly have a song, this whole album belonged to us.
But after graduation, we drifted apart. He’s married now, with a couple of stepkids. His sister says he’s found religion.
I wonder if he still knows the words.
22. Weezer - The Blue Album
After the death of Kurt Cobain, I turned to Weezer for songs I could sing. Nerds like me had a new favorite band. After my arrival at Truman State University, I couldn’t turn a corner without hearing Weezer. Liberal arts kids loved that shit. Was it the jokes? The glasses? The sweaters? The fact that the singer was going to Harvard? Throughout my life, I’ve envied Rivers Cuomo: his effortless way with a powerful chorus, his unironic love of a blistering solo, his total domination of a three-minute form. Today, I remain a student of songcraft. Weezer continues giving advice.
23. Hole - Live Through This
Hate the singer. Love the songs. I crave them more than almost any others. Unless you were born around 1979 – plus or minus, what, two years? – and you couldn’t care less about the idea of “authenticity,” you’re probably like, “Really? You like this piece of shit?” and I’m like, “Yes, goddammit, I do.” It reminds me of the years when women used to scare me, as Courtney Love screamed her version of the truth. In fact, it reminds me of the last time I played it – way the hell back in 2007 – when women still scared the bejesus out of me.
24. Pink Floyd - The Wall
Pop Quiz
True/False
9) I like double albums, including ones with films.
10) If the music’s good, I only want more.
11) I don’t believe in downloading singles.
12) Basically, I’m a musical dinosaur.
Choose Your Own Adventure
13) You are an intern for Spin magazine. Your boss is the hippest person you’ve ever met. Her two favorite genres are indie rock and techno. Unfortunately, a Pink Floyd tribute band is the only band you’ve seen so far in New York.
Do you write a review and reveal that you’re a poser – or not write anything for Spin.com at all?
25. Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
Another double album! Yes!!
Perhaps this album is overindulgent. Perhaps Billy Corgan’s voice is too shrill. Perhaps these lyrics suggest a troubled mind – yes, for the writer, but also for the listener. Still, I’d defend this album as a masterpiece: one whose messiness keeps it cohesive, one whose obtuseness makes it understandable. The biggest CD by my peer group’s biggest band. Song for song, the grandest statement. Track for track, the greatest value. So many singles, dazzling in their difference. So much emotion, all of it dark. Even the font enhances the spookiness. Basically, no, I wouldn’t change a thing.
26. R.E.M. - Automatic for the People
I wouldn’t say I love R.E.M. Although I like them, very, very much, I usually forget to list them as a favorite. I don’t obsess over Michael Stipe’s lyrics. I probably own less than half of their albums. When I think of R.E.M., I think of other people: former band mates (for just one summer), former co-editors (for one whole year), who worshiped this band and cherished this album, who played it so often I missed it when they stopped. “Sweetness Follows?” It surely did. The sweetest and saddest reminder of friends, of nostalgia they probably don’t know they inspired.
27. Metallica - The Black Album
Some of my favorite Metallica moments: Hearing this album for the first time in middle school, at a party in the basement of a girl I had a crush on. Learning the notes to “Nothing Else Matters,” as taught by exchange students from Spain and Brazil. Cruising through St. Louis with my friend from Vietnam, rocking out to Metallica, Megadeth, and Beethoven. Seeing a roadie on fire at a show. Discussing the album’s production in grad school, all of us agreeing, “It’s pretty much perfect.” Hearing “Enter Sandman” at a piano bar this year. Sharing Pat Boone’s version with everyone.
28. Eminem - The Marshall Mathers L.P.
The Marshall Mathers Poem
Marshall Mathers poses problems
“Stan” (with Dido!) can’t resolve ‘em
Killing Kim and Chris Kirkpatrick
Wack? Offensive? Stupid? Classic?
Baffling critics, gaffling gays
Mothers sued and mothers slayed
Truthfulness or total fiction?
Damn, the dude has crazy diction
Marshall Mathers, entertainer
Kept a lawyer on retainer
I cannot defend myself
Keeping Marshall on the shelf
In between the best CDs
Of Missy E. And Eric B.
Even though we rap along
Put another record on
Put another rapper on
Who won’t pretend to rape his mom
Marshall Mathers made a million
Making music for the children?
29. The Notorious B.I.G. - Ready to Die
It took several years of (my) life after (his) death, but I finally understand why other rappers worship him. (I hate myself for dismissing him earlier.) It took several spins, but I worship him, too. (I hate the world for dismissing him early.) Believe the hype: Biggie Smalls is the illest, spitting with charm, charisma, and courage; spinning stories of shock and awww; mythologizing murder, mayhem, and Mom. I listen to Biggie like I watch Scorsese: savoring the stories, feeling the fiction, and disregarding my disbelief. Enter gangsta. Exit suburbia. (I’m Michael Bolton in Office Space, yo.) Vicarious villainy entertains everyone.
30. Outkast - Speakerboxxx/The Love Below
This album features everything I want: Minds expanding. Boundaries breaking. Rhythm. Melody. Wordplay. Humor. Politics. Religion. Friendship. Family. Love. Loss. Life. Pain. Joy. Bitterness. Art. Creation. Pop songs. Love songs. Battles. Jokes. Truth. Realness. Honesty. Fantasy. Stanky funk to shake your booty. Bangin’ beats to bob your head. Dre and Big Boi, still together, pushing, pulling, challenging, changing, daring, dreaming, enlightening, embracing... Hip-hop’s Beatles, hip-hop’s White Album, hip-hop for haters, hip-hop for all... Songs about vampires, Valentines, roosters... Church and war and boom! Amen. This album features everything I need.
– Best Beatles Albums: No. 5
– Best Prince Albums: No. 1
31-40: Core to The Chronic
31. Stone Temple Pilots - Core
Seriously, kids, you don’t understand: I fuckin’ adored the Stone Temple Pilots! Back in the day, when I was kid, Weiland and Co. were bigger than Pearl Jam – at least they sounded that way to me, drenched in reverb and power chords and angst, drowning in whatever the hell they were singing. All I fuckin’ knew was they fuckin’ rocked my face off! I bought a guitar, and I learned their songs – sour chords for my sour disposition? – as if their hardness could rock even more. Blistering my fingers, here’s what I learned: Jesus F. Christ, this band fuckin’ rocked!!
32. Fiona Apple - When the Pawn...
Fiona Apple just might be crazy. That’s what I thought when I watched her perform, thrashing and screaming and exorcizing everything, hiding in a ball beneath her piano, singing her ballads so stately and serenely, depending on the mood or a channeled persona, selling her act or her soul or herself. Either the worst or the best concert ever! I wasted a thousand words to review it – almost as many as the album’s full title! – and still I failed to express my... what? Wonder? Gratitude? “Get well soon?” From lips to ears, from melodies to memories... Words have failed me again.
33. A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory
Fun, funny, and, most of all, funky, this is what every rap album should sound like. Smoky, seductive, and smothered in soul, this is what every jazz album should sound like: The sound of college and coming of age, putting the AP Style into rap (by which I mean I listened while writing). Later, the sound of my New York summer, putting the sub-woofer into the subway (by which I mean I listened while riding). A gateway album into the genre. Hip-hop for people who don’t know they like it. Playful, witty, bangin’, etc., this is music to open minds.
34. Beatles - Rubber Soul
I didn’t always love The Beatles. As a kid, I knew them mostly as images: Beatle hair and screaming girls and psychedelic posters. It took me till high school before I knew their songs, before I spent my money on the best bootleg ever – a Japanese import of The Beatles’ early output (“Super Hits,” “Rock’n Rolls,” and “Love Ballades” [sic]) – before my friend Dave loaned me actual Beatles albums, before my friend Chrissy showed me her parents’ Beatles records, before their songs, from Rubber Soul on, themselves became friends and memories to cherish. Everything I love about music starts here.
35. Beatles - Revolver
I play these albums as halves of a whole, as yet another double album, except in my times of acute Beatlemania, when I’m fiending for everything Beatle-esque and sacred, and I play these two albums among all the others, much to the exclusion of everything else. I know I’m not being original here, and you might be immune to critical hyperbole, but I, too, believe The Beatles are the greatest, in terms of how heavily they’ve influenced my tastes and given me reasons to live each day. And this one features “Eleanor Rigby,” their saddest song and thus my favorite.
36. Carole King - Tapestry
Like numerous other classics on this list, I wasn’t alive when this album was released. (And I didn’t even hear it until my mid-twenties.) I’m old enough, though, to remember cassettes – my favorites are the ones in liquidated bins – a fact that amused at least one singer/songwriter. Carole King actually laughed at me! In Kirksville, MO, in 2004, she kindly let this reporter ask her questions, including, “Why are you stumping for Kerry?” and also, "Would you sign my tape?” “A tape?” she said. And then she laughed – totally with me, sharing the moment.
Equally noteworthy, the songcraft is ace.
37. Nirvana - Unplugged in New York
Cobain was not my generation’s voice. After all, the dude was a good decade older, and it’s not like everyone worshiped him or anything. Many of my classmates didn’t even like him, choosing to kneel before other so-called spokesmen: Tupac, Trent Reznor, Alanis Morissette... I even knew a dude who thought Primus was the greatest. But I succumbed, like I was supposed to, to the artist’s deconstruction of popular art, to one man’s attempt to find some redemption. Of course, he failed, himself and his fans – but not MTV, which repeated this eulogy. Then, I watched it. Now, I listen.
38. U2 - The Joshua Tree
U2 believes it’s the world’s biggest band, and that’s how this album sounds to me: BIG. Driving through Kansas has never sounded better, with Bono’s voice echoing over the plain, the Edge’s guitar work ringing out for miles, the other two guys in the band creating thunder... The music crescendoes... The sun or the stars... You wanna get home but you’re already there... Wherever you look, whatever you hear... America the beautiful, how sweet the sound... Except for St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve never felt more Irish... I still get goosebumps every goddamn time, even though I’m not in Kansas anymore.
39. Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour
This album, though disjointed, offers everything I’m seeking: beautiful melodies, intricate production, wit and metaphor and numerous excellent band names to steal: Corporation Teashirt, Crabalocker Fishwife, Semolina Pilchard... All that, and more, in “I Am the Walrus!” After this, I promise, I’m done with The Beatles – you’ve already read a million words – so I can write more about music from my lifetime. But this band’s music has soundtracked my life, and inspired my own attempts to make music, more than any other band.
Finally, one last note on Abbey Road: The last twenty minutes are the greatest of all time.
40. Dr. Dre - The Chronic
The beats on this album make it a masterpiece, still sounding fresh a decade-plus later. The lyrics, however, make this old man cringe. Full of misogyny, murder, and more!* I can’t defend their anti-woman stance. Unless, that is, I’m being philosophical, or feeling argumentative, or viewing them historically (most of the disses were aimed at Eazy-E). Here’s an example, quoted from memory, and totally worth a couple dozen words:
Gap teeth in your mouth so my dick’s got to fit
With my nuts on your tonsils, when you’re onstage rapping at your wack-ass concert
Hateful. Repugnant. Guiltily hilarious.
* More misogyny.
Seriously, kids, you don’t understand: I fuckin’ adored the Stone Temple Pilots! Back in the day, when I was kid, Weiland and Co. were bigger than Pearl Jam – at least they sounded that way to me, drenched in reverb and power chords and angst, drowning in whatever the hell they were singing. All I fuckin’ knew was they fuckin’ rocked my face off! I bought a guitar, and I learned their songs – sour chords for my sour disposition? – as if their hardness could rock even more. Blistering my fingers, here’s what I learned: Jesus F. Christ, this band fuckin’ rocked!!
32. Fiona Apple - When the Pawn...
Fiona Apple just might be crazy. That’s what I thought when I watched her perform, thrashing and screaming and exorcizing everything, hiding in a ball beneath her piano, singing her ballads so stately and serenely, depending on the mood or a channeled persona, selling her act or her soul or herself. Either the worst or the best concert ever! I wasted a thousand words to review it – almost as many as the album’s full title! – and still I failed to express my... what? Wonder? Gratitude? “Get well soon?” From lips to ears, from melodies to memories... Words have failed me again.
33. A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory
Fun, funny, and, most of all, funky, this is what every rap album should sound like. Smoky, seductive, and smothered in soul, this is what every jazz album should sound like: The sound of college and coming of age, putting the AP Style into rap (by which I mean I listened while writing). Later, the sound of my New York summer, putting the sub-woofer into the subway (by which I mean I listened while riding). A gateway album into the genre. Hip-hop for people who don’t know they like it. Playful, witty, bangin’, etc., this is music to open minds.
34. Beatles - Rubber Soul
I didn’t always love The Beatles. As a kid, I knew them mostly as images: Beatle hair and screaming girls and psychedelic posters. It took me till high school before I knew their songs, before I spent my money on the best bootleg ever – a Japanese import of The Beatles’ early output (“Super Hits,” “Rock’n Rolls,” and “Love Ballades” [sic]) – before my friend Dave loaned me actual Beatles albums, before my friend Chrissy showed me her parents’ Beatles records, before their songs, from Rubber Soul on, themselves became friends and memories to cherish. Everything I love about music starts here.
35. Beatles - Revolver
I play these albums as halves of a whole, as yet another double album, except in my times of acute Beatlemania, when I’m fiending for everything Beatle-esque and sacred, and I play these two albums among all the others, much to the exclusion of everything else. I know I’m not being original here, and you might be immune to critical hyperbole, but I, too, believe The Beatles are the greatest, in terms of how heavily they’ve influenced my tastes and given me reasons to live each day. And this one features “Eleanor Rigby,” their saddest song and thus my favorite.
36. Carole King - Tapestry
Like numerous other classics on this list, I wasn’t alive when this album was released. (And I didn’t even hear it until my mid-twenties.) I’m old enough, though, to remember cassettes – my favorites are the ones in liquidated bins – a fact that amused at least one singer/songwriter. Carole King actually laughed at me! In Kirksville, MO, in 2004, she kindly let this reporter ask her questions, including, “Why are you stumping for Kerry?” and also, "Would you sign my tape?” “A tape?” she said. And then she laughed – totally with me, sharing the moment.
Equally noteworthy, the songcraft is ace.
37. Nirvana - Unplugged in New York
Cobain was not my generation’s voice. After all, the dude was a good decade older, and it’s not like everyone worshiped him or anything. Many of my classmates didn’t even like him, choosing to kneel before other so-called spokesmen: Tupac, Trent Reznor, Alanis Morissette... I even knew a dude who thought Primus was the greatest. But I succumbed, like I was supposed to, to the artist’s deconstruction of popular art, to one man’s attempt to find some redemption. Of course, he failed, himself and his fans – but not MTV, which repeated this eulogy. Then, I watched it. Now, I listen.
38. U2 - The Joshua Tree
U2 believes it’s the world’s biggest band, and that’s how this album sounds to me: BIG. Driving through Kansas has never sounded better, with Bono’s voice echoing over the plain, the Edge’s guitar work ringing out for miles, the other two guys in the band creating thunder... The music crescendoes... The sun or the stars... You wanna get home but you’re already there... Wherever you look, whatever you hear... America the beautiful, how sweet the sound... Except for St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve never felt more Irish... I still get goosebumps every goddamn time, even though I’m not in Kansas anymore.
39. Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour
This album, though disjointed, offers everything I’m seeking: beautiful melodies, intricate production, wit and metaphor and numerous excellent band names to steal: Corporation Teashirt, Crabalocker Fishwife, Semolina Pilchard... All that, and more, in “I Am the Walrus!” After this, I promise, I’m done with The Beatles – you’ve already read a million words – so I can write more about music from my lifetime. But this band’s music has soundtracked my life, and inspired my own attempts to make music, more than any other band.
Finally, one last note on Abbey Road: The last twenty minutes are the greatest of all time.
40. Dr. Dre - The Chronic
The beats on this album make it a masterpiece, still sounding fresh a decade-plus later. The lyrics, however, make this old man cringe. Full of misogyny, murder, and more!* I can’t defend their anti-woman stance. Unless, that is, I’m being philosophical, or feeling argumentative, or viewing them historically (most of the disses were aimed at Eazy-E). Here’s an example, quoted from memory, and totally worth a couple dozen words:
Gap teeth in your mouth so my dick’s got to fit
With my nuts on your tonsils, when you’re onstage rapping at your wack-ass concert
Hateful. Repugnant. Guiltily hilarious.
* More misogyny.
41-50: Fear of a Black Planet to The Soft Bulletin
41. Public Enemy - Fear of a Black Planet
In truth, P.E. never made a perfect album. Important? Innovative? Mind-blowing? Yes. Shocking? Scary? Provocative? Sure. So, even as I quibble with album lengths and Flavor Flav (a rapper much cooler in concept than sound), I know there’s much more to love than to dislike: Lessons in history, sociology, politics. The loudest, craziest, most sample-licious beats. Chuck D’s booming baritone flow. An album, an experience, that changed this white boy’s life. And Flavor? Fine. The jester breathes fire, damning 911 operators as Chuck damns everything else. The standard to which all rappers should aspire, of which P.E. itself falls short.
42. Coldplay - Parachutes
A funny thing happened when I tried to write a novel: My narrator turned me on to this album. I already owned it, I already liked it, but somehow I decided my narrator loved it. In fact, he played it whenever he wrote, so I started to play it whenever I wrote. A cup of coffee, my favorite chair, and quiet, pretty, ethereal anthems, pretty much every day for a year. The character was already a stand-in for me – and then I became a stand-in for him. Truth is always stranger than fiction, unless that truth contains melody and atmosphere.
43. Beastie Boys - Check Your Head
Really, the Beasties’ third debut album, or at least their second reinvention, this album is the first where they sounded like grownups. That’s probably the reason I love it today. Regrettably, however, my fandom is retrograde: I claimed to hate rap in my post-grunge youth – even rap made by nerdy, whiny white boys – so I missed my chance to grow up with these boys. In college, when I finally realized what I’d missed – and realized my ignorance, stupidity, etc. – they’d long since discovered love and spirituality, in addition to videos chockablock with robots. Hence, their music has aged very well.
44. John Mayer - Heavier Things
For the first time ever, an artist truly spoke for me, or at least for the way I wanted to appear: confident but full of questions, knowing there’s something greater than myself, fearing I’ll never discover my purpose. It also helped that I viewed him as a peer, similar in age and singing poppy tunes. (His were better and bluesier than mine.) This album was something to share with my friends, a classic we envied but also admired. Basically, it dropped at the perfect time and place, starting my shift from hard to soft, admittedly making me boring and old.
45. Prince - Purple Rain
Here’s my dilemma: Music or history? Criticism or autobiography? Prince’s success or my elusive searching? I bought this tape the same year as Tapestry, not that it matters, really, at all, except to me, or maybe to you, as each new album, experience, etc., teaches and changes its listeners forever, always adding, never subtracting, notes and quotes and theories on art, discussion topics for fans and friends (one of whom wrote his thesis on the guy)... Can I just say these songs are catchy – and even though they’re in my life now, I really regret those years when they weren’t?
46. Van Halen - Van Halen
Oh, to be sixteen again, discovering the music of teenage boys everywhere, blasting this album in bedrooms and cars – the most exciting thing to happen in those places – rocking out on air guitar in homage to my hero, knowing that music has never sounded better – or louder, at least, and faster! faster!! faster!!! Praise be to Eddie, like Jimmy before him, and Jimi before him, and other guitar gods and magazine cover boys, who gave me their religion, the one I still practice, playing my guitar and this album even now, admittedly worshiping crappier deities. Oh, to not be old!
47. Tori Amos - Under the Pink
I know this guy who’s in a cult. He shares his religion with everyone he meets, giving them lectures, CDs, and books. He goes to these rallies with thousands of people, waiting in line for the chance to see his priestess, conjuring spirits, speaking in tongues. And he wonders why people don’t want to listen, devoting whole days to just one voice, finding her influence in every other woman? He must’ve forgotten his first scared impression, finding his roommate’s bootleg collection, before he developed his own sick obsession. He listens, sings, loves, quotes: "Need a woman to look after you?"
48. Nellie McKay - Get Away From Me
"When my buddy Matty G said, ‘Matt, I’m gonna marry her,’ I thought he was just a delusional fan, kinda like me at ten or eleven, telling my friends I would marry Nancy Drew. (Pause for laughter.) But Matt was serious. And twenty-five years old. (More laughter.) Of course, I had a crush on Nellie myself – I even introduced her – but how can you not when she’s so darn adorable? She sings, she raps, she plays the piano. She even has beef with Norah Jones – even though Nellie’s a vegetarian! (Uproarious hilarity.) Actually, I love her, too. (Gasp!) To Nellie!"
49. Kanye West - Late Registration
Some days, I think I’m the best critic ever, not just of music but of anything artistic. Other days, I know I’m the best unknown writer. I’m certainly the best who lives in my apartment, which also means I’m the most egotistical, the most apt to mimic Kanye West’s delivery. If I believe it, it might come true, and I might earn the equivalent of platinum plaques and Grammys. I might create something this musically adventurous. (A book on tape with Ray Charles samples?) Even as Kanye mocks my degrees, he inspires me not to let crappy rapping stop me.
50. Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin
Pop Quiz
True/False
14) I only wrote this down to earn some indie cred.
15) Ha! As if. I have indie cred to spare.
16) I pretty much hate all music that’s fun.
17) These answers are true, and the earlier ones were false.
Fill In The Blank
19) "Race for the Prize" is the ____ song ever about scientists.
20) "Waitin’ for a Superman" is the ____ song ever about Superman.
Multiple Choice
21) This album sounds like:
a) being amazed.
b) reveling in one’s beautiful strangeness.
c) late nights editing my collegiate alternative newspaper.
d) nothing else I’ve ever heard.
In truth, P.E. never made a perfect album. Important? Innovative? Mind-blowing? Yes. Shocking? Scary? Provocative? Sure. So, even as I quibble with album lengths and Flavor Flav (a rapper much cooler in concept than sound), I know there’s much more to love than to dislike: Lessons in history, sociology, politics. The loudest, craziest, most sample-licious beats. Chuck D’s booming baritone flow. An album, an experience, that changed this white boy’s life. And Flavor? Fine. The jester breathes fire, damning 911 operators as Chuck damns everything else. The standard to which all rappers should aspire, of which P.E. itself falls short.
42. Coldplay - Parachutes
A funny thing happened when I tried to write a novel: My narrator turned me on to this album. I already owned it, I already liked it, but somehow I decided my narrator loved it. In fact, he played it whenever he wrote, so I started to play it whenever I wrote. A cup of coffee, my favorite chair, and quiet, pretty, ethereal anthems, pretty much every day for a year. The character was already a stand-in for me – and then I became a stand-in for him. Truth is always stranger than fiction, unless that truth contains melody and atmosphere.
43. Beastie Boys - Check Your Head
Really, the Beasties’ third debut album, or at least their second reinvention, this album is the first where they sounded like grownups. That’s probably the reason I love it today. Regrettably, however, my fandom is retrograde: I claimed to hate rap in my post-grunge youth – even rap made by nerdy, whiny white boys – so I missed my chance to grow up with these boys. In college, when I finally realized what I’d missed – and realized my ignorance, stupidity, etc. – they’d long since discovered love and spirituality, in addition to videos chockablock with robots. Hence, their music has aged very well.
44. John Mayer - Heavier Things
For the first time ever, an artist truly spoke for me, or at least for the way I wanted to appear: confident but full of questions, knowing there’s something greater than myself, fearing I’ll never discover my purpose. It also helped that I viewed him as a peer, similar in age and singing poppy tunes. (His were better and bluesier than mine.) This album was something to share with my friends, a classic we envied but also admired. Basically, it dropped at the perfect time and place, starting my shift from hard to soft, admittedly making me boring and old.
45. Prince - Purple Rain
Here’s my dilemma: Music or history? Criticism or autobiography? Prince’s success or my elusive searching? I bought this tape the same year as Tapestry, not that it matters, really, at all, except to me, or maybe to you, as each new album, experience, etc., teaches and changes its listeners forever, always adding, never subtracting, notes and quotes and theories on art, discussion topics for fans and friends (one of whom wrote his thesis on the guy)... Can I just say these songs are catchy – and even though they’re in my life now, I really regret those years when they weren’t?
46. Van Halen - Van Halen
Oh, to be sixteen again, discovering the music of teenage boys everywhere, blasting this album in bedrooms and cars – the most exciting thing to happen in those places – rocking out on air guitar in homage to my hero, knowing that music has never sounded better – or louder, at least, and faster! faster!! faster!!! Praise be to Eddie, like Jimmy before him, and Jimi before him, and other guitar gods and magazine cover boys, who gave me their religion, the one I still practice, playing my guitar and this album even now, admittedly worshiping crappier deities. Oh, to not be old!
47. Tori Amos - Under the Pink
I know this guy who’s in a cult. He shares his religion with everyone he meets, giving them lectures, CDs, and books. He goes to these rallies with thousands of people, waiting in line for the chance to see his priestess, conjuring spirits, speaking in tongues. And he wonders why people don’t want to listen, devoting whole days to just one voice, finding her influence in every other woman? He must’ve forgotten his first scared impression, finding his roommate’s bootleg collection, before he developed his own sick obsession. He listens, sings, loves, quotes: "Need a woman to look after you?"
48. Nellie McKay - Get Away From Me
"When my buddy Matty G said, ‘Matt, I’m gonna marry her,’ I thought he was just a delusional fan, kinda like me at ten or eleven, telling my friends I would marry Nancy Drew. (Pause for laughter.) But Matt was serious. And twenty-five years old. (More laughter.) Of course, I had a crush on Nellie myself – I even introduced her – but how can you not when she’s so darn adorable? She sings, she raps, she plays the piano. She even has beef with Norah Jones – even though Nellie’s a vegetarian! (Uproarious hilarity.) Actually, I love her, too. (Gasp!) To Nellie!"
49. Kanye West - Late Registration
Some days, I think I’m the best critic ever, not just of music but of anything artistic. Other days, I know I’m the best unknown writer. I’m certainly the best who lives in my apartment, which also means I’m the most egotistical, the most apt to mimic Kanye West’s delivery. If I believe it, it might come true, and I might earn the equivalent of platinum plaques and Grammys. I might create something this musically adventurous. (A book on tape with Ray Charles samples?) Even as Kanye mocks my degrees, he inspires me not to let crappy rapping stop me.
50. Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin
Pop Quiz
True/False
14) I only wrote this down to earn some indie cred.
15) Ha! As if. I have indie cred to spare.
16) I pretty much hate all music that’s fun.
17) These answers are true, and the earlier ones were false.
Fill In The Blank
19) "Race for the Prize" is the ____ song ever about scientists.
20) "Waitin’ for a Superman" is the ____ song ever about Superman.
Multiple Choice
21) This album sounds like:
a) being amazed.
b) reveling in one’s beautiful strangeness.
c) late nights editing my collegiate alternative newspaper.
d) nothing else I’ve ever heard.
51-60: Tidal to Led Zeppelin II
51. Fiona Apple - Tidal
Her next two albums were all about production, while this, her debut, was all about the lyrics, sung in a voice both sultry and scary, bigger than her body and wiser than her years, vivid and honest and painful and real, like nothing else I’d ever heard (I didn’t know Tori or Aimee just yet), a welcome alternative to phallocentric rock, an early text for my feminist bookshelf, five gold stars for my misses-education (I still don’t know when to hold back the wordplay). This album didn’t change my life, but it did change the type of music I liked.
52. Aimee Mann - Magnolia
The best soundtrack ever to the best movie ever.
The perfect marriage of music and film, both of which comfort me in sickness and health, with songs and scenes I’ll remember till death, praying for redemption and less clunky metaphors.
Am I a guy "in need of a tourniquet"?
God, I wish I wrote with such grace.
God, I wish my voice was so distinctive.
God, I wish I were Aimee Mann.
Lyrics much better than any of my words. A sound so perfect I can’t do it justice. A singer, musician, writer, artist to whom I owe an apology.
53. Nada Surf - Let Go
In the past two years, since I started my novel, I’ve written more words on this band than any other, coming to terms with our buzzed-about pasts, albeit through the words of my Matthew Webber stand-in. (There’s a kid who’s got it figured out!) For one-hit wonders and valedictorians, the future seemed limitless in 1997. Now, we’re joined in tiny clubs by dozens of travelers whose moments have passed, singing and swaying along to these words: "I wanna know what it’s like on the inside of love." If they can continue to grow, so can I. Maybe I’ll let go.
54. Tears For Fears - Songs From the Big Chair
I did a disservice to Prince by not praising him, ignoring his pop to talk about myself, failing to mention the funk that angered Tipper. I also didn’t mention how much I hate the ‘80s, music’s fakest and cheesiest decade, which is why I’m having trouble here big-upping Tears For Fears. I love the way these guys write songs: quiet buildups, hooks galore, synthesizer fills that enhance instead of dominate. Again, the hooks, like a kindergarten coatroom. And that’s why this album transcends my eighties-phobia, probably because I discovered it later, thanks to a girl who made me a mixtape.
55. David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust
I hear this album; I hate myself. Not because of its interstellar rock, but because of how late I discovered David Bowie. I didn’t own this album until my mid-twenties, even though I’d listened to scores of his apostles. Now, I hear traces of Bowie almost everywhere, which would’ve been cool to have noticed in my youth, back when I was rocking the "classics." Instead of progressing from Nirvana to Bowie, I regressed from Nirvana to bands their singer hated, whose albums failed to educate or challenge me. Damn the corporate-rock hegemony! I learned too late this album kicks ass.
56. Beck - Odelay
Except for Sea Change, Beck’s music doesn’t move me. I don’t play his albums to dwell on my emotions. Instead, I play them because they move me. They actually make me want to dance. It’s weird, because they’re not really dance music, a genre I "hate" or "don’t understand." They’re not really rock, or rap, or funk. Instead, they’re experiments, collages, mashups. Also, of course, they’re totally ‘90s, even the ones he’s made in the ‘00s. And this one album, the one he’ll never top, sounds like the whole of my music collection, even with just a sampling of country.
57. The Muppet Movie Soundtrack
For a bunch of puppets, these things emote! Their voices aren’t what you’d call technically good, but they carry the tunes and the weight of the world. More than just a soundtrack to one of my favorite films, this album is a soundtrack to all my favorite dreams: making friends, falling in love, and daring to dream at all. Plus, according to Webber family lore, this record was the first in my now-expansive library, a gift for – sigh, do you really wanna hear it? – successfully going potty. Sigh. Regardless of that, these songs remain magical, for lovers and dreamers and you.
58. Nirvana - In Utero
Another awesome soundtrack to physical exertion, this album by Nirvana (again) kicks ass. Guitars are shredded, (ear)drums are punished, and feelings are screamed and literally bled. We actually studied these lyrics in school – albeit in a lesson by an eager student-teacher – not that I knew them without the helpful lyric sheet, not that I know what all of them mean. I do know, however, the images linger, the screams sound primal even today, and the scholarly treatment hasn’t ruined my band. Another awesome soundtrack to being young and angry – or being old and mellow and feigning youth and anger.
59. Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin IV
A top-ten album when I was twelve. A top-twenty album when I was sixteen. But now that I’m the age when rockers start to die, I don’t need this album, this band, in my life, at least not every day after school, or pretty much the whole damn weekend, working out or re-reading The Hobbit or aimlessly driving around and around, turning it up till it shakes my rearview mirror... which doesn’t mean I hate them or never want to hear them. (I’ll never grow out of playing "Stairway.") I just don’t love them as much as I used to.
60. Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin II
Again, I like them. Really. I do. I recognize their influence on music and my life, as well as how awesome they sound when I need them. But this band’s fans have told me I suck, since I’d rather spend time with Mayer and Mraz, artists who actually speak to me today. My tastes have been replaced along with my cells. But these two albums? Fine. They rock. A punch to the gut and a kick in the nads. The music, really, is unimpeachable. Still, I can’t defend the words: "Squeeze my lemon till the juice runs down my leg?"
Her next two albums were all about production, while this, her debut, was all about the lyrics, sung in a voice both sultry and scary, bigger than her body and wiser than her years, vivid and honest and painful and real, like nothing else I’d ever heard (I didn’t know Tori or Aimee just yet), a welcome alternative to phallocentric rock, an early text for my feminist bookshelf, five gold stars for my misses-education (I still don’t know when to hold back the wordplay). This album didn’t change my life, but it did change the type of music I liked.
52. Aimee Mann - Magnolia
The best soundtrack ever to the best movie ever.
The perfect marriage of music and film, both of which comfort me in sickness and health, with songs and scenes I’ll remember till death, praying for redemption and less clunky metaphors.
Am I a guy "in need of a tourniquet"?
God, I wish I wrote with such grace.
God, I wish my voice was so distinctive.
God, I wish I were Aimee Mann.
Lyrics much better than any of my words. A sound so perfect I can’t do it justice. A singer, musician, writer, artist to whom I owe an apology.
53. Nada Surf - Let Go
In the past two years, since I started my novel, I’ve written more words on this band than any other, coming to terms with our buzzed-about pasts, albeit through the words of my Matthew Webber stand-in. (There’s a kid who’s got it figured out!) For one-hit wonders and valedictorians, the future seemed limitless in 1997. Now, we’re joined in tiny clubs by dozens of travelers whose moments have passed, singing and swaying along to these words: "I wanna know what it’s like on the inside of love." If they can continue to grow, so can I. Maybe I’ll let go.
54. Tears For Fears - Songs From the Big Chair
I did a disservice to Prince by not praising him, ignoring his pop to talk about myself, failing to mention the funk that angered Tipper. I also didn’t mention how much I hate the ‘80s, music’s fakest and cheesiest decade, which is why I’m having trouble here big-upping Tears For Fears. I love the way these guys write songs: quiet buildups, hooks galore, synthesizer fills that enhance instead of dominate. Again, the hooks, like a kindergarten coatroom. And that’s why this album transcends my eighties-phobia, probably because I discovered it later, thanks to a girl who made me a mixtape.
55. David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust
I hear this album; I hate myself. Not because of its interstellar rock, but because of how late I discovered David Bowie. I didn’t own this album until my mid-twenties, even though I’d listened to scores of his apostles. Now, I hear traces of Bowie almost everywhere, which would’ve been cool to have noticed in my youth, back when I was rocking the "classics." Instead of progressing from Nirvana to Bowie, I regressed from Nirvana to bands their singer hated, whose albums failed to educate or challenge me. Damn the corporate-rock hegemony! I learned too late this album kicks ass.
56. Beck - Odelay
Except for Sea Change, Beck’s music doesn’t move me. I don’t play his albums to dwell on my emotions. Instead, I play them because they move me. They actually make me want to dance. It’s weird, because they’re not really dance music, a genre I "hate" or "don’t understand." They’re not really rock, or rap, or funk. Instead, they’re experiments, collages, mashups. Also, of course, they’re totally ‘90s, even the ones he’s made in the ‘00s. And this one album, the one he’ll never top, sounds like the whole of my music collection, even with just a sampling of country.
57. The Muppet Movie Soundtrack
For a bunch of puppets, these things emote! Their voices aren’t what you’d call technically good, but they carry the tunes and the weight of the world. More than just a soundtrack to one of my favorite films, this album is a soundtrack to all my favorite dreams: making friends, falling in love, and daring to dream at all. Plus, according to Webber family lore, this record was the first in my now-expansive library, a gift for – sigh, do you really wanna hear it? – successfully going potty. Sigh. Regardless of that, these songs remain magical, for lovers and dreamers and you.
58. Nirvana - In Utero
Another awesome soundtrack to physical exertion, this album by Nirvana (again) kicks ass. Guitars are shredded, (ear)drums are punished, and feelings are screamed and literally bled. We actually studied these lyrics in school – albeit in a lesson by an eager student-teacher – not that I knew them without the helpful lyric sheet, not that I know what all of them mean. I do know, however, the images linger, the screams sound primal even today, and the scholarly treatment hasn’t ruined my band. Another awesome soundtrack to being young and angry – or being old and mellow and feigning youth and anger.
59. Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin IV
A top-ten album when I was twelve. A top-twenty album when I was sixteen. But now that I’m the age when rockers start to die, I don’t need this album, this band, in my life, at least not every day after school, or pretty much the whole damn weekend, working out or re-reading The Hobbit or aimlessly driving around and around, turning it up till it shakes my rearview mirror... which doesn’t mean I hate them or never want to hear them. (I’ll never grow out of playing "Stairway.") I just don’t love them as much as I used to.
60. Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin II
Again, I like them. Really. I do. I recognize their influence on music and my life, as well as how awesome they sound when I need them. But this band’s fans have told me I suck, since I’d rather spend time with Mayer and Mraz, artists who actually speak to me today. My tastes have been replaced along with my cells. But these two albums? Fine. They rock. A punch to the gut and a kick in the nads. The music, really, is unimpeachable. Still, I can’t defend the words: "Squeeze my lemon till the juice runs down my leg?"
61-70: The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill to Hedwig and the Angry Inch Soundtrack
61. Lauryn Hill - The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
Pop Quiz: Teacher’s Edition
Analogies
22) Lauryn Hill : rap :: _______ : rock
a) Paul McCartney
b) Axl Rose
Note: Either A or B is acceptable. Like Paul, Lauryn split from a critically acclaimed and universally beloved group for an album of (silly?) love songs that equaled, if not surpassed, the work of said group. (While Paul didn’t accomplish this till Band on the Run, Lauryn accomplished this immediately. She’s bigger than a Beatle, and also, therefore, Jesus.) Also, as deeply as I love Paul, a girl I used to love loves Lauryn.
Like Axl, Lauryn’s probably crazy. I’m waiting for them both.
62. Beach Boys - Pet Sounds
After I mastered the teenage boys’ canon (Zeppelin, Aerosmith, AC/DC...), I wanted to somehow broaden my horizons. (I noticed the chicks weren’t into the Rock.) I started my quest for new and different music, singers who sang instead of screamed, guitarists who strummed instead of soloed, art that expressed a second sweet emotion, not that there’s anything wrong with lust. I also discovered the beauty of the Beach Boys, thanks to college and music magazines. Before, I’d dismissed them as corny and dumb, just because they sang about cars instead of lemons. But now I know they’re sad and brilliant.
63. Moby - Play
The album begins with a bangin’ hip-hop beat and ends in a sort of new-age-y trance, perfect for driving and dinner parties both. Otherwise, I don’t know how to describe it. Not that I need to; you’ve heard it on TV – as well as in the movies, and probably in the mall, and anyplace else where something’s being sold. Around track two, his shtick becomes obvious: sampled bluesmen, tinkling pianos, Moby’s own monotone and inexpressive sing. Around track three, his shtick becomes repetitive: sampled bluesmen, tinkling pianos, Moby’s own monotone and inexpressive singing. Somehow it works, though. Somehow it works.
64. 2Pac - Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z.
I’m not supposed to own this album. Its title expressly forbids me from listening. And yet, I find, whenever I play it, I not only love it, I live it for an hour. A frequently jogged to, top-five classic, it’s louder and faster and angrier (and hotter) than anything else by Tupac, or rappers, or anyone else I’d dare to enjoy, but pointed, and poignant, and sorrowful, too, with violence exposed as a sorry fact of life, caused by a society that segregates and censors, which is why Dan Quayle (!) should "eat a dick up."
Also, ‘Pac predicts his death!
65. U2 - Achtung Baby
I love U2's sound here, especially the guitar, full of their trademark, chime-like reverb, and all those other supercool tricks The Edge pulls out of his stocking cap live, and also on classic records like this, as evidenced by "Until the End of the World," with playing so blistering it’s on their greatest hits, even though I’ve never heard it on the radio. You hear it one time and you know it’s The Edge, and then Bono wails as only Bono can, as confident as Christ himself, singing of love and also betrayal, making the whole world cry with "One."
66. Live - Throwing Copper
Live wins the nostalgia competition, beating Bush (1) as a one-album wonder, Collective Soul (2) as a band I don’t hate, and everyone else from 1994 (3) as the only dudes ever to mention placentas (4). Poppy, polished, possibly perfect, this album piqued my interest as the post-grunge era peaked – and actually matters in my flannel-free life. From its quiet/loud dynamics to its psychobabble lyrics, somehow it transcends itself (5).
1. See also Sponge and Toadies, the
2. See also Silverchair and Offspring, the
3. See also 1995
4. See also Nirvana's "umbilical noose"
5. See also Green Day’s Dookie
67. De La Soul - Buhloone Mind State
If you don’t get – or don’t like – rap, this rap album will buh-low your mind. I’ll bet you a mixtape you’ll laugh at least once, another that your muscles will move involuntarily (head nods, toe taps, and ass shakes all count), and another that you’ll be like, "Matt, gimme more!" It’s socially conscious and sonically adventurous, but best described with one word: fun. There’s nothing to ponder, but nothing to fear. It’s blissfully free of gunshots and ho-downs; it’s bursting with jokes and non sequiturs. Whatever you’re thinking it sounds like, it doesn’t. It’s even better than you can imagine.
68. Simon & Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water
This album is as timeless as the magazines describe it. Every song is expertly crafted, perfectly played, superbly sung... It means as much to me as it does to your parents. (Also, I crossed a bridge to it once.) It’s almost like Simon issued a challenge: "Find a better writer than me. Exhibit A: ‘The Boxer.’ Booyah! Exhibit B: the title track. I double dare you not to get chills. Here’s ‘Cecilia.’ Play it at a wedding. (And think of your mom, who has the same name.) Find a better singer and hanger-on than Garfunkel. We represent the N.Y.C., muthafuckaz!"
69. Beck - Midnite Vultures
I can’t explain why Beck is a favorite. He’s not the best musician, or singer, or rapper, or sound collagist, whatever that is, but he might be the best at doing it all. He reinvents himself better than most, to the point where not having a sound is his sound. But now I’m, like, rapping in critical jargon, instead of just singing this weird album’s praises. These songs about sexxx are truly freaky-deaky. Their unabashed horniness is goofy, not sexxxy. Their smarm is a major part of their charm. It’s totally, like, the funnest album ever. Maybe that explains it.
70. Hedwig and the Angry Inch Soundtrack
"What’s it about?" my girlfriend asked, after I’d recommended this movie. Well...
Hedwig is the story of a male-to-female tranny, on a quest for love and rock superstardom. "The Angry Inch" is her band – and her penis. Her sex-change operation got botched, you see, inspiring songs about being a freak, as well as her fear of being alone. She dreams of escaping her "Wicked Little Town" while wearing different "Wig(s) in a Box." Also, she sings about sex a lot.
It’s not a film I’d watch with my mom.
"It’s basically a love story," I said.
So it is.
71-80: Kid A to Rockin’ the Suburbs
71. Radiohead - Kid A
With this album, Radiohead stopped making anthems, and made this noise pop, these soundscapes, instead, pieces of music to study and write to, and also to criticize for not being songs, even though I play these whatevers all the time, trying, no, hoping, to find what I’ve lost: joy and excitement and hopefulness itself, for music and life and their glorious potential, to shock and challenge and be an event, when someone says, "Listen," and that’s what you do, sitting with them in silence and awe, sharing a moment of wonder and terror, fearing such sublimity will never strike again.
72. Alice In Chains - Jar of Flies
Old Matt: Why the hell do you listen to this? You’re not on drugs, you’re not suicidal–
Young Matt: Dude, I’m in high school. What’s your excuse?
OM: Well, it’s pretty–
YM: You sound surprised.
OM: It’s not like they’re known for their quiet reflections. They’re known, if at all, for their caterwauling "harmonies," as well as for putting the "in" in "heroin." It’s hard to justify liking this stuff.
YM: What’s there to justify? You said it yourself. The album’s pretty.
OM: You mean, the EP.
YM: Whatever. It’s quiet. With harmonies, yes. It’s unplugged–
OM: Shh! Just listen.
73. Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill
All throughout high school, I hated this shit, grouping it with Coolio, Sublime, and beer as things I didn’t get or want to partake in, thereby making me boring at parties. (I always went, though, just to observe, hoping each time that something would happen. Also, I drank a lot of soda.) Everyone else would rap every word, the math of which seemed incomprehensible. (Weren’t we all seven in 1986?) Thus, this album wasn’t mine.
Later, I actually listened to it, loving the old-school beats and rhymes, wishing I’d been cooler in 1997. This album and hindsight are both funny things.
74. Jason Mraz - Waiting for My Rocket to Come
I’m hereby starting beef with this dude, hoping he’ll read this and diss me on record, thereby launching my recording career, and maybe letting me into his crew. It works for rappers, so why not singer/songwriters – especially ones who adore Young MC (an influence Mraz has actually cited)? Actually, despite his genre, and also despite his choirboy voice, Mraz’s hip-hop jones is clear. It’s there in his humor, but also his wordplay, disarmingly witty and polysyllabic. I want to write more songs like his, if only to paint in less depressive colors – and also, like him, to avoid trite cliches.
75. Bob Dylan - Blood on the Tracks
I’d never dispute the artist’s brilliance. And yet, I seldom listen to him, favoring people with prettier voices, prettier songs, and sometimes even prettier faces. Perhaps it’s because I heard him so late, or else it’s because his cult turns me off, or maybe I’m just a contrarian critic, favoring "artists" who don’t write their songs, but most of his music, sadly, fails to speak to me. It’s way too dense, too riddled with allusions, to resonate as more than an intellectual exercise – except for this album, his softest and prettiest. I listen, I mourn, I relate, I get it.
76. Nas - Illmatic
Ill-Matt-ic
Here, with wordplay witty, gritty
He chronicled a crumbling city
Here, with sampled subway trains
He rapped of people fleeing pain
Some through death and some through crime
Some through beats and some through rhymes
The best debut in all of rap
Then he made a bunch of crap
Still, his wordplay murders mine
Skillz this bad should be a crime
Even though my raps are wack
I battle Nas so he’ll attack
If he reads this, he will laugh
"What the hell is this?" he’ll ask
Yet I pray he’ll take his pen
And write a worthwhile rhyme again
77. GZA - Liquid Swords
Wanna get your nerdiest white friends excited? Ask ‘em about the Wu-Tang Clan! Raps about swordplay bond us together; heated arguments about our favorite Wu members (GZA) and solo albums (this one) make that bond inseparable. It also makes us really loud in bars. Really, really, really loud. This album, like the others, is best left undescribed. You’re better off hearing its sounds for yourself – its kung-fu samples and head-chopping beats, its battle raps and sword battle raps – than letting this white boy ruin it, excitably. Spilling more ink would lead to regret, kinda like spilling more blood. Or something.
78. Belly - King
If everyone I know is a representative sample, then I am Belly’s biggest fan. Some of you, I bet, have never even heard of them, much less listened to or bought their albums used. (However, if you’re curious, you’ll find them in the bargain bin, next to R.E.M.’s Monster and Hootie!) History will say they’re a ‘90s cliche, a Next Big Thing that never really was, a female-fronted curio better left unheard. Objectively, I might agree. Subjectively, personally, I disagree with history. I think, I feel, I know I love them, for sounding exactly like bands like this should sound.
79. Marilyn Manson - Mechanical Animals
He writes the songs that make the whole world kill – but only if you believe what you read. If you actually read his lyrics and interviews, it quickly becomes obvious that the most shocking things about this "shock rocker" are his deep insights into humanity – the depressed and occasionally depraved parts of humanity, sure, but humanity nonetheless – and his surprisingly tuneful way of conveying them. Few albums have changed my perception of an artist so completely, from willful ignorance to unabashed fandom. He writes the songs that make me want to re-read his autobiography. Music to spite other people to.
80. Ben Folds - Rockin’ the Suburbs
Surely, you have your own favorite artists, those artists whose B-sides you’ve purchased on the Internet, whose work makes you feel like you know them, and like them – like, if you got to hang with them, you’d be, like, BFFs – and though they might break their piano stools in concert, or crack your shit up with their giddy profanity, they also understand how to get inside your head, and also your heart and your soul. (It’s metaphysical.) Listing them empirically limits your expression – ranking your most-favored favorites, like, sucks – when all of their work, in whole, is what moves you.
With this album, Radiohead stopped making anthems, and made this noise pop, these soundscapes, instead, pieces of music to study and write to, and also to criticize for not being songs, even though I play these whatevers all the time, trying, no, hoping, to find what I’ve lost: joy and excitement and hopefulness itself, for music and life and their glorious potential, to shock and challenge and be an event, when someone says, "Listen," and that’s what you do, sitting with them in silence and awe, sharing a moment of wonder and terror, fearing such sublimity will never strike again.
72. Alice In Chains - Jar of Flies
Old Matt: Why the hell do you listen to this? You’re not on drugs, you’re not suicidal–
Young Matt: Dude, I’m in high school. What’s your excuse?
OM: Well, it’s pretty–
YM: You sound surprised.
OM: It’s not like they’re known for their quiet reflections. They’re known, if at all, for their caterwauling "harmonies," as well as for putting the "in" in "heroin." It’s hard to justify liking this stuff.
YM: What’s there to justify? You said it yourself. The album’s pretty.
OM: You mean, the EP.
YM: Whatever. It’s quiet. With harmonies, yes. It’s unplugged–
OM: Shh! Just listen.
73. Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill
All throughout high school, I hated this shit, grouping it with Coolio, Sublime, and beer as things I didn’t get or want to partake in, thereby making me boring at parties. (I always went, though, just to observe, hoping each time that something would happen. Also, I drank a lot of soda.) Everyone else would rap every word, the math of which seemed incomprehensible. (Weren’t we all seven in 1986?) Thus, this album wasn’t mine.
Later, I actually listened to it, loving the old-school beats and rhymes, wishing I’d been cooler in 1997. This album and hindsight are both funny things.
74. Jason Mraz - Waiting for My Rocket to Come
I’m hereby starting beef with this dude, hoping he’ll read this and diss me on record, thereby launching my recording career, and maybe letting me into his crew. It works for rappers, so why not singer/songwriters – especially ones who adore Young MC (an influence Mraz has actually cited)? Actually, despite his genre, and also despite his choirboy voice, Mraz’s hip-hop jones is clear. It’s there in his humor, but also his wordplay, disarmingly witty and polysyllabic. I want to write more songs like his, if only to paint in less depressive colors – and also, like him, to avoid trite cliches.
75. Bob Dylan - Blood on the Tracks
I’d never dispute the artist’s brilliance. And yet, I seldom listen to him, favoring people with prettier voices, prettier songs, and sometimes even prettier faces. Perhaps it’s because I heard him so late, or else it’s because his cult turns me off, or maybe I’m just a contrarian critic, favoring "artists" who don’t write their songs, but most of his music, sadly, fails to speak to me. It’s way too dense, too riddled with allusions, to resonate as more than an intellectual exercise – except for this album, his softest and prettiest. I listen, I mourn, I relate, I get it.
76. Nas - Illmatic
Ill-Matt-ic
Here, with wordplay witty, gritty
He chronicled a crumbling city
Here, with sampled subway trains
He rapped of people fleeing pain
Some through death and some through crime
Some through beats and some through rhymes
The best debut in all of rap
Then he made a bunch of crap
Still, his wordplay murders mine
Skillz this bad should be a crime
Even though my raps are wack
I battle Nas so he’ll attack
If he reads this, he will laugh
"What the hell is this?" he’ll ask
Yet I pray he’ll take his pen
And write a worthwhile rhyme again
77. GZA - Liquid Swords
Wanna get your nerdiest white friends excited? Ask ‘em about the Wu-Tang Clan! Raps about swordplay bond us together; heated arguments about our favorite Wu members (GZA) and solo albums (this one) make that bond inseparable. It also makes us really loud in bars. Really, really, really loud. This album, like the others, is best left undescribed. You’re better off hearing its sounds for yourself – its kung-fu samples and head-chopping beats, its battle raps and sword battle raps – than letting this white boy ruin it, excitably. Spilling more ink would lead to regret, kinda like spilling more blood. Or something.
78. Belly - King
If everyone I know is a representative sample, then I am Belly’s biggest fan. Some of you, I bet, have never even heard of them, much less listened to or bought their albums used. (However, if you’re curious, you’ll find them in the bargain bin, next to R.E.M.’s Monster and Hootie!) History will say they’re a ‘90s cliche, a Next Big Thing that never really was, a female-fronted curio better left unheard. Objectively, I might agree. Subjectively, personally, I disagree with history. I think, I feel, I know I love them, for sounding exactly like bands like this should sound.
79. Marilyn Manson - Mechanical Animals
He writes the songs that make the whole world kill – but only if you believe what you read. If you actually read his lyrics and interviews, it quickly becomes obvious that the most shocking things about this "shock rocker" are his deep insights into humanity – the depressed and occasionally depraved parts of humanity, sure, but humanity nonetheless – and his surprisingly tuneful way of conveying them. Few albums have changed my perception of an artist so completely, from willful ignorance to unabashed fandom. He writes the songs that make me want to re-read his autobiography. Music to spite other people to.
80. Ben Folds - Rockin’ the Suburbs
Surely, you have your own favorite artists, those artists whose B-sides you’ve purchased on the Internet, whose work makes you feel like you know them, and like them – like, if you got to hang with them, you’d be, like, BFFs – and though they might break their piano stools in concert, or crack your shit up with their giddy profanity, they also understand how to get inside your head, and also your heart and your soul. (It’s metaphysical.) Listing them empirically limits your expression – ranking your most-favored favorites, like, sucks – when all of their work, in whole, is what moves you.
81-90: Wish You Were Here to Under My Skin
81. Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here
I liked Pink Floyd much better in high school; however, I still make time for them now, much more so than other former favorites, namely, The Doors and post-Black Album Metallica, staples of a teenage boy’s rock ‘n’ roll diet, at least those post-Black Album boys who watched The Doors and played guitar... and who was I talking about again? Pink Floyd? Perhaps their greatest strength is their music’s versatility. It’s perfect for writing or falling asleep, or any other setting where quietness reigns, but also for driving and testing new speakers – or really whenever you want to hear music.
82. Bjork - Homogenic
Bjork’s bizarre music is hard to describe, other than saying what I just said. I also could’ve said it’s poppy and catchy (at least until later, when it got too, well, Bjork-y), which happens to be the way I describe it. Sure, there are orchestras battling computers, and songs about whales and bachelorettes and blood – and that’s just one song, with its mesmerizing video – and Bjork’s own voice like a baby or a bird, screaming and cooing like no one else on Earth, passionate, powerful, barely controlled, hitting every note like a temple-stabbing icicle, albeit one that warms your heart.
83. Northern State - Dying in Stereo
Three white chicks who pass the mic, Northern State are the female Beastie Boys. Liberally educated, politically liberal, they target those rap fans who vote and volunteer. Despite their three albums being so phenomenal, they’ve only sold eighty-three copies to date – six of them to me and the other K-State Matt. Thus, this group is another that’s mine, one I promote through rantings and mixtapes. I seldom mention our parallel lives, both of us peaking in 2003: The group got profiled (briefly) in Spin, when I was somehow an intern there. I hear these girls; I think of New York.
84. Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
This album is perfect for pizza-place jukeboxes, late-night walks to all-night diners, a random gift to your piano-playing mom...
I’m struggling here to say something new, to not repeat what I’ve written before, to maybe say something approaching concision, instead of treating every review like a sprawling double album in need of paring down, an action I’m thankful Elton didn’t take, allowing me to mimic his rollicking piano, one of the many that inspired Ben Folds, whose other awesome albums I fear won’t get reviewed, six months after I started writing, and one or two more before you’re going, "What?"
85. Stone Temple Pilots - Tiny Music
Pop Quiz
Word Problems
23) Tuesday morning. New STP! You simply can’t wait – it’s been years since Tiny Music, STP’s third, and third-greatest, album. Your favorite record store opens at 10. The trip takes 15 minutes by bicycle. Your first class starts at 11:30. Considering the store sells new and used CDs, how many minutes can you spend there, browsing?
24) The album you're buying has a number in its title. Multiply this by Tiny Music’s ranking.
25) How many people, besides yourself, actually bought their next and final album?
26) How many people, besides yourself, want them back together?
86. MC Paul Barman - Paullelujah!
Another def choice among tone-deaf English grad students, this guy boasts about having five fans. I’d like to argue here that everyone should hear him, rapping, as he does, about higher education, hot female authors, and, unfortunately, "Burping & Farting," but I realize he’s an acquired taste. For every rapped instruction on how to write a paper, there’s a wannabe zinger on gender relations: "There’s more of the same come where that come came from." There’s also a buttload of sick internal rhyme schemes – and even whole verses rapped in friggin’ palindrome. His flow is ill; the beats are, um, iller?
87. Guns N’ Roses - Use Your Illusion I & II
For sixteen long years, I’ve waited for the followup. Look for more words here in 2023.
88. Missy Elliott - Under Construction
For about two albums, I believed in Missy Elliott. Full of Far East sound effects and onomatopoeia, her songs were pushing envelopes in mailbags on the moon. Missy was fat, and she joked about it, phatly. Backwards rap she did? Yes hell! Sure, her R&B jams were wack. And her spoken-word interludes were clearly unrehearsed. But that was the whole of their ramshackle charm. Missy was throwing a party for everyone – black, white, male, female, old, young, East, Dirty South – anyone willing to giggle a little. She pretty much reinvented the album. So why don’t I buy her albums anymore?
89. Jay-Z - The Black Album
God, this dude’s a cocky bastard, telling you how dope he is in every other line. The new B.I.G., the hip-hop Michael Jordan, a bitch-free dude with ninety-nine problems... Actually, homeboy’s the hip-hop Dizzy Dean, ‘cause it ain’t braggin’ if you rap about rapping. (I’ve got ninety-nine problems, too, but baseball allusions sure ain’t one.) All this dude’s albums are perfect for businessmen; they’re self-help books on tape, with beats: "How to Make Records for Affluent People," "Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (That’s Just Nas)." This one has my favorite beats; thus, it’s my favorite to blast on my commute.
90. Avril Lavigne - Under My Skin
I’ve already written and argued this to death. I don’t care who wrote these songs. I don’t care how "authentic" they’re not. I don’t even care how annoying Avril is. All I care about is how the music sounds: well-played, well-sung, well-written (by whomever); darker in tone and subject than expected; something I love despite myself, for all the previous reasons and more. (Um, I’m a 28-year-old man. Hello?) You shouldn’t judge art for what it’s not. This album, I believe, is great for what it is. Compared to Beethoven, sure, it’s shit. Compared to Britney, it’s solid gold.
I liked Pink Floyd much better in high school; however, I still make time for them now, much more so than other former favorites, namely, The Doors and post-Black Album Metallica, staples of a teenage boy’s rock ‘n’ roll diet, at least those post-Black Album boys who watched The Doors and played guitar... and who was I talking about again? Pink Floyd? Perhaps their greatest strength is their music’s versatility. It’s perfect for writing or falling asleep, or any other setting where quietness reigns, but also for driving and testing new speakers – or really whenever you want to hear music.
82. Bjork - Homogenic
Bjork’s bizarre music is hard to describe, other than saying what I just said. I also could’ve said it’s poppy and catchy (at least until later, when it got too, well, Bjork-y), which happens to be the way I describe it. Sure, there are orchestras battling computers, and songs about whales and bachelorettes and blood – and that’s just one song, with its mesmerizing video – and Bjork’s own voice like a baby or a bird, screaming and cooing like no one else on Earth, passionate, powerful, barely controlled, hitting every note like a temple-stabbing icicle, albeit one that warms your heart.
83. Northern State - Dying in Stereo
Three white chicks who pass the mic, Northern State are the female Beastie Boys. Liberally educated, politically liberal, they target those rap fans who vote and volunteer. Despite their three albums being so phenomenal, they’ve only sold eighty-three copies to date – six of them to me and the other K-State Matt. Thus, this group is another that’s mine, one I promote through rantings and mixtapes. I seldom mention our parallel lives, both of us peaking in 2003: The group got profiled (briefly) in Spin, when I was somehow an intern there. I hear these girls; I think of New York.
84. Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
This album is perfect for pizza-place jukeboxes, late-night walks to all-night diners, a random gift to your piano-playing mom...
I’m struggling here to say something new, to not repeat what I’ve written before, to maybe say something approaching concision, instead of treating every review like a sprawling double album in need of paring down, an action I’m thankful Elton didn’t take, allowing me to mimic his rollicking piano, one of the many that inspired Ben Folds, whose other awesome albums I fear won’t get reviewed, six months after I started writing, and one or two more before you’re going, "What?"
85. Stone Temple Pilots - Tiny Music
Pop Quiz
Word Problems
23) Tuesday morning. New STP! You simply can’t wait – it’s been years since Tiny Music, STP’s third, and third-greatest, album. Your favorite record store opens at 10. The trip takes 15 minutes by bicycle. Your first class starts at 11:30. Considering the store sells new and used CDs, how many minutes can you spend there, browsing?
24) The album you're buying has a number in its title. Multiply this by Tiny Music’s ranking.
25) How many people, besides yourself, actually bought their next and final album?
26) How many people, besides yourself, want them back together?
86. MC Paul Barman - Paullelujah!
Another def choice among tone-deaf English grad students, this guy boasts about having five fans. I’d like to argue here that everyone should hear him, rapping, as he does, about higher education, hot female authors, and, unfortunately, "Burping & Farting," but I realize he’s an acquired taste. For every rapped instruction on how to write a paper, there’s a wannabe zinger on gender relations: "There’s more of the same come where that come came from." There’s also a buttload of sick internal rhyme schemes – and even whole verses rapped in friggin’ palindrome. His flow is ill; the beats are, um, iller?
87. Guns N’ Roses - Use Your Illusion I & II
For sixteen long years, I’ve waited for the followup. Look for more words here in 2023.
88. Missy Elliott - Under Construction
For about two albums, I believed in Missy Elliott. Full of Far East sound effects and onomatopoeia, her songs were pushing envelopes in mailbags on the moon. Missy was fat, and she joked about it, phatly. Backwards rap she did? Yes hell! Sure, her R&B jams were wack. And her spoken-word interludes were clearly unrehearsed. But that was the whole of their ramshackle charm. Missy was throwing a party for everyone – black, white, male, female, old, young, East, Dirty South – anyone willing to giggle a little. She pretty much reinvented the album. So why don’t I buy her albums anymore?
89. Jay-Z - The Black Album
God, this dude’s a cocky bastard, telling you how dope he is in every other line. The new B.I.G., the hip-hop Michael Jordan, a bitch-free dude with ninety-nine problems... Actually, homeboy’s the hip-hop Dizzy Dean, ‘cause it ain’t braggin’ if you rap about rapping. (I’ve got ninety-nine problems, too, but baseball allusions sure ain’t one.) All this dude’s albums are perfect for businessmen; they’re self-help books on tape, with beats: "How to Make Records for Affluent People," "Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (That’s Just Nas)." This one has my favorite beats; thus, it’s my favorite to blast on my commute.
90. Avril Lavigne - Under My Skin
I’ve already written and argued this to death. I don’t care who wrote these songs. I don’t care how "authentic" they’re not. I don’t even care how annoying Avril is. All I care about is how the music sounds: well-played, well-sung, well-written (by whomever); darker in tone and subject than expected; something I love despite myself, for all the previous reasons and more. (Um, I’m a 28-year-old man. Hello?) You shouldn’t judge art for what it’s not. This album, I believe, is great for what it is. Compared to Beethoven, sure, it’s shit. Compared to Britney, it’s solid gold.
91-99: (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? to I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning
91. Oasis - (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?
If a band wants to pick a band to rip off, The Beatles are a better choice than most. You don’t have to be a virtuoso on your instrument, you don’t have to be a genius with your lyrics, and you don’t even have to enjoy your band mates’ company. All you need is love – and tunes. (Numerous Beatle references probably can’t hurt.) No band has ripped off The Beatles more blatantly than Oasis, so few have come as close to the early Beatles’ tunefulness. (Others are much more original about it.) Mind-sticking melodies + universal platitudes = this collection of cocksure classics.
92. Dave Matthews Band - Crash
I finally saw this band in concert, which means I saw them years too late. I really should’ve seen them in college or earlier, when I would’ve appreciated their jamming much more, instead of checking my watch on a work night. But at least I’m not sick of their songs anymore. In college, you see, their music was everywhere: every dorm room, every lawn, every open mic night in every campus coffeehouse... I never needed to play my copies, hearing everyone else’s every day. Now I can miss this band’s best work and hear it with fondness instead of dread.
93. Neil Young - Harvest
Reading reviews of Neil Young today, I’m struck by the claim that he almost sold out. What, because this album’s accessible, Young can’t be an iconoclast anymore? For someone who’s made a career out of changing, why wouldn’t this change also be acceptable? I don’t know, and I don’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time a "sellout" album spoke to me. I know I love the lyrics and melodies. I know I love how American it sounds, despite or because the artist is Canadian. I know I’d love to make such a statement, capturing the world in three-minute tunes.
94. The Who - Who’s Next
The best drum solo in all recorded history. The least cheesy use of a synthesizer ever. One of rock’s most famous screams. A cover with rock gods peeing on an obelisk. Yes, this album truly has it all. Despite or because it’s not a concept album, Who’s Next is more cohesive – and better – than Tommy. (Of course, at sixteen, I disagreed, vehemently.) Credit is due to Pete Townsend’s songcraft, which reaches its zenith on "Baba O’Riley," which pointedly articulates a strange "teenage wasteland." Exhibit A that words are overrated, but playing your heart out never, ever is. Play it loudly.
95. Hole - Celebrity Skin
"God, this guy has horrible taste. This shitty band appears on here twice? What about my favorite band? Or anyone more important than this? I’m sick of him praising this copycat crap. His stupid, indefensible, subjective beliefs... doesn’t he know how objectively they suck? I bet he’s gonna say he heard this in college, and its ‘bittersweet sound’ reminds him of something – emotions and feelings and homework and shit – or else he just likes it, you know? He likes it! I bet he’s not being contrarian either. He actually likes this shit unironically. This is something we have to debate."
96. Smashing Pumpkins - Adore
"Dude, we get it. You love the ‘90s. Since Billy’s the decade’s quintessential rock star, at least among those who didn’t die, you like him more than you can explain. Despite and because your moment has passed, you bought his comeback album, didn’t you? You claim to like it, but do you? Really? Isn’t it just a reclamation project, for Billy and you and everyone else, now that we’ve all moved on to other people – which, in your case, are quiet singer/songwriters? Thus, despite Adore’s techno touches, doesn’t it preview the stuff you like now? Quiet? Melodic? Wussy? It’s you!"
97. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Californication
"What, no Foo Fighters? Green Day? Sponge? Didn’t you mention The Toadies earlier? Weren’t you into Spacehog in college? I know you like to sing along – you’re probably a dork who likes to try to harmonize – so I guess this album is ‘perfect’ for that. I guess it’s loaded with ‘hummable tunes.’ I’m sure it reminds of you of people and places, since that’s what you seem to value in music, as well as its, I don’t know, ‘fiery fretwork,’ ‘lecherous grooves,’ and ‘lyrical gangsterdom.’
"You gave your game away too early. I’d write a poem, but you’d get surly."
98. Marvin Gaye - What’s Going On
Finally, an album that’s actually important, not just to me, but also to the world, as Marvin’s questions remain unanswered. What’s going on? Well, that one’s easy. War, greed, poverty, racism... the sorts of ills a pop song can’t cure. And that’s why Marvin’s asking why. If everyone knows what’s going on, why don’t we try to better this world? Why don’t we stop to listen to each other? If nothing else, we should listen to Marvin. Spreading love and soothing pain, Marvin’s voice comes close to breaking – all the hearts of everyone listening. Even his sighs convey the truth.
99. Bright Eyes - I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning
The newest and Dylan-est of all the "new Dylans," Conor Oberst transcends this lame shorthand. Sure, his band’s music is pure Americana, a mix of country, folk, and rock. Sure, he wields his pen like a sword, which actually makes his liner notes readable, to see if he really said what you heard. Dylan’s the best, but Conor’s just Conor, an artist who’ll inspire "new Conors" in the future. In a world of computers, he’s bringing wordplay back; you other troubadours don’t know how to act.
I still want someone to be the new me. Take that to the bridge.
If a band wants to pick a band to rip off, The Beatles are a better choice than most. You don’t have to be a virtuoso on your instrument, you don’t have to be a genius with your lyrics, and you don’t even have to enjoy your band mates’ company. All you need is love – and tunes. (Numerous Beatle references probably can’t hurt.) No band has ripped off The Beatles more blatantly than Oasis, so few have come as close to the early Beatles’ tunefulness. (Others are much more original about it.) Mind-sticking melodies + universal platitudes = this collection of cocksure classics.
92. Dave Matthews Band - Crash
I finally saw this band in concert, which means I saw them years too late. I really should’ve seen them in college or earlier, when I would’ve appreciated their jamming much more, instead of checking my watch on a work night. But at least I’m not sick of their songs anymore. In college, you see, their music was everywhere: every dorm room, every lawn, every open mic night in every campus coffeehouse... I never needed to play my copies, hearing everyone else’s every day. Now I can miss this band’s best work and hear it with fondness instead of dread.
93. Neil Young - Harvest
Reading reviews of Neil Young today, I’m struck by the claim that he almost sold out. What, because this album’s accessible, Young can’t be an iconoclast anymore? For someone who’s made a career out of changing, why wouldn’t this change also be acceptable? I don’t know, and I don’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time a "sellout" album spoke to me. I know I love the lyrics and melodies. I know I love how American it sounds, despite or because the artist is Canadian. I know I’d love to make such a statement, capturing the world in three-minute tunes.
94. The Who - Who’s Next
The best drum solo in all recorded history. The least cheesy use of a synthesizer ever. One of rock’s most famous screams. A cover with rock gods peeing on an obelisk. Yes, this album truly has it all. Despite or because it’s not a concept album, Who’s Next is more cohesive – and better – than Tommy. (Of course, at sixteen, I disagreed, vehemently.) Credit is due to Pete Townsend’s songcraft, which reaches its zenith on "Baba O’Riley," which pointedly articulates a strange "teenage wasteland." Exhibit A that words are overrated, but playing your heart out never, ever is. Play it loudly.
95. Hole - Celebrity Skin
"God, this guy has horrible taste. This shitty band appears on here twice? What about my favorite band? Or anyone more important than this? I’m sick of him praising this copycat crap. His stupid, indefensible, subjective beliefs... doesn’t he know how objectively they suck? I bet he’s gonna say he heard this in college, and its ‘bittersweet sound’ reminds him of something – emotions and feelings and homework and shit – or else he just likes it, you know? He likes it! I bet he’s not being contrarian either. He actually likes this shit unironically. This is something we have to debate."
96. Smashing Pumpkins - Adore
"Dude, we get it. You love the ‘90s. Since Billy’s the decade’s quintessential rock star, at least among those who didn’t die, you like him more than you can explain. Despite and because your moment has passed, you bought his comeback album, didn’t you? You claim to like it, but do you? Really? Isn’t it just a reclamation project, for Billy and you and everyone else, now that we’ve all moved on to other people – which, in your case, are quiet singer/songwriters? Thus, despite Adore’s techno touches, doesn’t it preview the stuff you like now? Quiet? Melodic? Wussy? It’s you!"
97. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Californication
"What, no Foo Fighters? Green Day? Sponge? Didn’t you mention The Toadies earlier? Weren’t you into Spacehog in college? I know you like to sing along – you’re probably a dork who likes to try to harmonize – so I guess this album is ‘perfect’ for that. I guess it’s loaded with ‘hummable tunes.’ I’m sure it reminds of you of people and places, since that’s what you seem to value in music, as well as its, I don’t know, ‘fiery fretwork,’ ‘lecherous grooves,’ and ‘lyrical gangsterdom.’
"You gave your game away too early. I’d write a poem, but you’d get surly."
98. Marvin Gaye - What’s Going On
Finally, an album that’s actually important, not just to me, but also to the world, as Marvin’s questions remain unanswered. What’s going on? Well, that one’s easy. War, greed, poverty, racism... the sorts of ills a pop song can’t cure. And that’s why Marvin’s asking why. If everyone knows what’s going on, why don’t we try to better this world? Why don’t we stop to listen to each other? If nothing else, we should listen to Marvin. Spreading love and soothing pain, Marvin’s voice comes close to breaking – all the hearts of everyone listening. Even his sighs convey the truth.
99. Bright Eyes - I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning
The newest and Dylan-est of all the "new Dylans," Conor Oberst transcends this lame shorthand. Sure, his band’s music is pure Americana, a mix of country, folk, and rock. Sure, he wields his pen like a sword, which actually makes his liner notes readable, to see if he really said what you heard. Dylan’s the best, but Conor’s just Conor, an artist who’ll inspire "new Conors" in the future. In a world of computers, he’s bringing wordplay back; you other troubadours don’t know how to act.
I still want someone to be the new me. Take that to the bridge.
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