For no good reason other than that it's February, and I'll do anything to stay stimulated, here's 15 albums that affected me personally, changed my life, or otherwise will never be forgotten by me. In chronological order...
Unplugged in New York, Nirvana
My dad came over to my mom's house and flipped on MTV and waited until the video for Smells Like Teen Spirit came on. "I love these guys." He would have their albums on tape in constant rotation in his truck. I was sucked in. Only a couple years later, my dad would call me late at night and explain what had happened to Kurt Cobain. This was the first CD I ever owned, and with out a doubt, it is their best. It proved that they were more than just a Pixies rip-off who fell ass backwards into stardom. This is the way I remember Nirvana, and the way I remember Kurt.
Rubber Soul, The Beatles
This is an album of a good band coming into their own. The Beatles where already mega-stars that could have settled on doing Motown and Chuck Berry retreads. Here, they’re getting into Dylan, into English folk, and retooling their hit making capabilities to encompass better, smarter writing and more intricate melodies. But the album is also great for its simplicity, the kind of unbeatably succinct songs like “You Won’t See Me” or “In My Life.” It has a youthful energy that isn’t wild or sullen, but something breezy like later Beach Boys. This album will always remind me of Toronto in the summer.
Is This It, The Strokes
Early in high school, all I listened to was music from the 60's and (embarrassingly) jam bands. But I didn't fit into the neo-hippie culture of the Phish-heads. When I heard the Strokes, a light went on, and I knew I'd found my music. As much as we've all moved past them by now, I realize that the Strokes were the perfect band for a disillusioned young man. They could express the nebulous teen angst and aggression that define those years, but also be really fucking cool, and like way fucking cooler than anything else on my radar other than maybe Beck. But most importantly, they pointed me to much better bands—an alternate history of pop music. I still wish I could sing like Julian Casablancas.
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground
Album #3, the quiet one. After hearing both of my parents casually dismiss the Strokes as a Velvet's retread, my mom pulled out a tape of this album to prove her point. "What Goes On" certainly showed me what they were talking about. But the album as a whole has so much more, and I think it gets no respect. Lou's voice sounds better here than anywhere else, and the songs are just perfect. This album also sealed the deal, and like the saying goes, I went out and joined a bad.
Slanted and Enchanted, Pavement
I own this album in two formats, yet it will never sound better than the first time I heard it blaring from Andrew Scanlan's ghetto blaster in the Mazda-that-will-never-die-323 on our way to buy a PA system for the band. Oh my god, Pavement. My life would be nothing like it is now without this record. I've never gone very long without listening to it, and I probably won’t, because there are so many memories attached to it. Andrew, Anna, Nell, Ben, sing with me now, “Ice baby, I shot your girlfriend…”
KID A/Amnesiac, Radiohead
The two are inseparable in my mind, and for a while, I actually thought Amnesiac was a better album. I can say very little about either of them that won’t be total babble. I’ve clocked maybe 11,000 hours or something listening to them. They are both better than Ok Computer, no fucking contest. Ok Computer was genius and groundbreaking and what not. But it wore its organic/synthetic beautiful/ugly pop music/art music seams in typical 90’s postmodern fashion, and sounds dated. Hear, the lines aren’t blurred, they’re completely gone. I even like the weird “KID A=first human clone” urban myth because it seems about right. But none of that matters. What matter is that every time I hear the horns come screeching in on National Anthem, I completely lose it.
Echoes, The Rapture
And to follow the greatest records of my life with the most easily forgotten…
Ok, so maybe it’s the Strokes part two in my life, my false introduction to a scene that maybe only existed for four months, maybe completely run by trust fund hipsters, maybe only in the minds of rock critics. Except that it freaks out in a way that is so subversive, so dirty, so sexy, so cool, and yet so stupid… I don’t know. It’s still the soundtrack for a perfect party in my book. It’s sad to realize that the real coked up quasi urbane kids aren’t even close to being this fun.
You Forgot it in People, Broken Social Scene
One of the most authentically romantic records you will ever hear. There are many elements to the band that can totally sidetrack them, like having a rotating lineup that incorporates dozens of musicians, a totally unchecked earnest delivery, heavy handed production, and the post rock breeding frequently leads them past the six minute mark. But when it works, it works extraordinarily well. I could fall in love with anyone within eyeshot when I listen to this.
Girls Can Tell, Spoon
One of the many breakup albums in both Spoon’s career, and in my lists of favorite albums. It’s a simple story about a guy who falls in love with a girl, moves to Chicago, leaves because he’s pursuing a rock career, gets dropped by a major label, and must now confront his failures while being surrounded memories of his youth. It’s also about men’s fashion. It’s also about two over educated, under stimulated kids from some shit hole town and the artistic/romantic obsessions they sometimes shared, sometimes fought endlessly over. It’s about their unkind imaginations. It’s about when you were 19 and still in school waiting on a light on the corner by Sound Exchange.
Daydream Nation, Sonic Youth
I thought about putting Murray Street or even Washing Machine because I thought almost everyone who likes Sonic Youth is going to name this as their favorite. But neither one is as life changing as Daydream Nation. It’s an album that deserves intellectual examination, while also defying it by sheer volume and aggression. If the album was just Teenage Riot on repeat for 45 minutes, it would still be their best.
Spiderland, Slint.
If you’ve really listened to this album the whole way through, and it didn’t in some way stick with you, if you weren’t in some small way compelled to listen to it again sometime soon—but not too soon--because it hasn’t sunk in yet, if you weren't compelled to patiently follow the insistent but subdued guitars to the very bitter but (triumphant? Fucking awesome?) end, then I don’t know what to say to you. For some people its David Lynch movies, for me, it’s this album.
This Night, Destroyer
His darkest, longest, most personal, most romantic album without a doubt. Not his best, but it’s got to be my favorite. Dan Bejar has a knack for pushing real emotion through even the most obtuse lyrics, but the ones here are actually pretty simple, and the imagery is pretty consistent. This album pulled me through a rough period of longing and self loathing. It feels like a breakup album, but one without all the bitterness, spite, and self pity. Sometimes it sounds like a love-letter, so I can’t really say what it’s supposed to be emoting. It is what it is, and it seems to be an artistic statement about that very emotion.
Early Works, Steve Reich
Steve Reich has the incredible ability to make music that is an all encompassing experience, a form of meditation that quiets your thoughts and opens your mind. And he does it without any trappings, without any tricks. His trick is transparent: set something in motion and let it play out to its end. Unlike Cage’s indeterminacy, Reich is purposeful. He’s not only concerned with the processes he puts into action (phasing, canons) but more importantly, the starting points. The nuanced chord he picks for Four Organs, the rhythms he chooses for his phase pieces, and the source of his tape works. This is what makes “Come Out” and “It’s Gonna Rain” more than just an experiment. Listen hard to the disintegration of the fiery sermon in “It’s Gonna Rain part II” and you understand that Reich has a deeply spiritual investment his work. Even though Reich has been an entry point for me into Art Music and experimental composers, I still think of him right alongside Brian Eno, Miles Davis, Sonic Youth, NEU!, Animal Collective, or J Dilla.
Cryptograms/Flourescent Grey, Deerhunter
I feel like I’m always defending this album, always explaining that the long ambient washes are just as important as the ‘songs.’ So many people will never be able to listen to this record without injecting their feelings about Bradford Cox into it. And as lauded and successful as the album and the band are, I still think this album is underrated. But the thing is, it’s a grower. If you don’t let it get under your skin, you’ll never really appreciate it. God knows where, there is a suncooked worn out tape of these records (the two come printed together as a double LP) that I listened to on repeat in a delivery van two summers ago. The hazy afternoons with the sun bleaching everything, a warm breeze coming and going, the skeletons of buildings hanging in the skyline, parking by the lakeshore just to take a break… this album was perfect.
Person Pitch, Panda Bear
I had been against the Animal Collective for a long time. I hated the ‘freak folk’ scene, I was starting to hate New York, and I hated that Animal Collective was being seen as the only ones actually pushing forward into new musical territory, I hated that this was the album of the year. And mostly, I hated good vibes. So the speed at which this album totally turned me around is amazing. The warmth and generosity, the familiarity, the timeless quality, all from an album made by some dude with a sampler. And the dude with the sampler, the guy who had music critics and other musicians frothing at the mouth with adoration, is actually a really nice guy. And the fact that I came way late to the Animal Collective party should be some sort of terrible shame on me forever in the world of music lovers. But no one gives a shit, including me, because this music trumps the fickle internet-bred sycophancy on which most bands live or die.
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