We’re one-third of the way through this massive self-evaluation. Click here for Parts One and Two. And now, on with the show.
100 Big Star — #1 Record/Radio City (1972/1974; 1978) CD
The first time I heard Big Star I was probably 17 or 18 and I totally didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. I was hanging out with Jon and Mike and Jim and a couple of their friends, and someone threw this record on the CD player. It sounded way too southern and mellow for my tastes. I didn’t give Big Star the time of day until several years later, when I was probably 22 or so. I can’t pinpoint what specifically changed in my musical life from point A to point B, but my second time around with Big Star I nearly wet myself with excitement. Cow bells! Harmonies! That gorgeous guitar sound! And some of the absolutely best pop songwriting. I can’t imagine life without Big Star, as cheesy as that sounds. So this is one of my few life-changing records, I suppose. I went through a long period of time where I wanted music to support my moody, angry, destructive side. Big Star led me down another path. Alex Chilton and Co. helped me get over myself and embrace my sentimental side. Thank goodness.
“In the Street”
99 Dianogah — “100% Tree” single (1995) 7″
This is their very first, limited-pressing release, which I purchased at Reckless Records. Dianogah was like Tortoise if Tortoise tried to write pop songs. Soooo catchy in an unassuming way. Nowadays, I don’t find myself in the mood to listen to these guys all that often, but for about a two-year period I listened to them a lot.
“Building a Playpen”
98 Radiohead — The Bends (1995) CD
I suppose I should lie and say that I like OK Computer better, but I don’t. The Bends is less out there and more hit-oriented with tunes like “High and Dry” and “Fake Plastic Trees.” This was the first modern rock record that blew me away post-high school. Released almost exactly one year after Cobain committed suicide, The Bends bowled me over, largely because Thom Yorke pulled me in in a similar fashion as Kurt. There’s quite a lot of obvious difference between the two frontmen and their bands, but also a good amount of thematic overlap.
“Bones”
97 DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince — He’s the DJ, I’m the Rapper (1988) cassette
I recall riding my bicycle the 2.5 miles into town with a friend to purchase packs of baseball cards from the mom-and-pop shop. It was summer and an extreme heatwave was gripping central Illinois, but we didn’t care. We sang “Parents Just Don’t Understand” the entire way there and back. This is one of the records that is always credited with breaking rap music to a mostly white, kid-friendly audience. And thinking back on it, I’d have to agree with that assessment.
“Parents Just Don’t Understand”
96 Joanna Newsom — The Milk-Eyed Mender (2004) LP
I discovered Ms. Newsom while listening to WFMU one morning at work. Oddly enough, it was the following song that I heard, which does not feature her on harp. I was floored by this song and immediately Googled her and found a video on Drag City’s website of her playing harp. I ordered the record from Parasol that afternoon and it hardly left my turntable for the next three weeks. I saw her live not long after that and really enjoyed her performance, but I’m afraid her record may now be more of a nostalgic curiosity. I don’t return to it often, and I never really got into her subsequent follow-up album.
“Peach, Plum, Pear”
95 Dexy’s Midnight Runners — Searching for the Young Soul Rebels (1980) CD
I got into Dexy’s in much the same way I discovered a long list of bands from their era: I read up on the group in my Trouser Press guide. During a three-month window, I basically went through my entire Trouser Press and every time I got to a band that sounded interesting or I knew was considered an “influential” band, I would look them up on Napster and download whatever I could find. I got into a lot of ’70s punk and new wave via this ritual, and today I can probably corral a knee-high stack of CDs that I purchased as a direct result of the Trouser Press/Napster combo. Anyway, Dexy’s gets a bad rap because no one has heard this record. Everyone knows their later hit, “Come on Eileen,” and that’s it. Which is too bad, because Searching for the Young Soul Rebels is an exceptional, scorching set of horn-infused Northern soul. You really should own this record.
“Tell Me When My Light Turns Green”
94 Love — Love (1966) LP
The fact that people don’t talk about Arthur Lee the same way they do Mick Jagger or Roger Daltrey or David Crosby is one of rock’s tragic truths. Listen to “A Message to Pretty,” which is one of 1960s’ best ballads, and tell me you don’t get it. Lee was also amazing on Love’s shredders, like “7 And 7 Is” and “My Flash on You.” They are one of my favorite ’60s groups and one of the most underappreciated American rock bands of all time, despite the efforts of critics and pop culture references in films like High Fidelity (which introduced a lot of people to “My Little Red Book,” also from this album). The only American frontman/songwriter I can think of off the top of my head who was a peer of Lee’s and who may have been his equal in terms of personality is Sky Saxon of The Seeds.
“A Message to Pretty”
93 Van Halen — Van Halen (1978) LP
To this day, I can’t hear the opening bass line of “Runnin’ with the Devil” without thinking about: 1) my older brother washing his car in the front yard; and 2) Aaron preparing to belt out the song on stage with Dissonance, possibly the best metal cover band to come out of CHS ever, which is not really saying something. Despite the latter memory, I absolutely love this record and I always will. Debuts don’t get much better than this.
“Jamie’s Cryin'”
92 Lifetime — Hello Bastards (1995) CD
My little clique of friends from Peoria were fucking crazy about Lifetime, and I have always wanted to find out whether we just had some sort of regional obsession with the group, or if there were fans who were equally as obsessive elsewhere. I mean, I know they were beloved by a lot of people, but for some of the kids in Peoria that I hung with, Lifetime was like Led Zeppelin. This album holds a lot of nostalgia for me and I still think it sounds timeless in a way that isn’t true for, say, Green Day.
“Rodeo Clown”
91 Phil Collins — No Jacket Required (1985) LP
I was nine years old when “Sussudio” dominated the radio. I remember I couldn’t stop singing along, even though I had no idea what word was being sung over and over. I seem to recall thinking Collins was singing “St-st-studio,” or some such BS. Anyway, this was probably my formal introduction to a larger-than-life pop icon (I was a bit too young for Michael Jackson’s Thriller). Collins’ voice is ingrained in the fabric of my youth. I haven’t even brought up “One More Night,” “Don’t Lose My Number,” or “Take Me Home.” Did you know that this record won a Grammy for album of the year? Then Invisible Touch came out the following year and all hell really broke loose. But, and this is a big but, the cover for this record, which featured Collins’ glowing red face peering out of the darkness, troubled me as a kid (and it sorta does now, too).
“Sussudio”
90 Bon Jovi — Slippery When Wet (1986) cassette
Uh, no fooling around, this record defined me for a good year of my life. I remember going to Amanda B.’s cook-out in sixth grade and this album was blaring on the boombox. That night, I french-kissed a girl — her — for the first time. “Never Say Goodbye” fo’ sure.
“Never Say Goodbye”
89 Marvin Gaye — What’s Going On (1971) CD
Is this the best R&B/soul album ever recorded? Gaye is Motown, so luckily he served as my first in-depth intro to the label. Unluckily, that intro came via a greatest hits record that was released a year prior to this album, so it didn’t include any of these songs on it. When I finally got around to checking out Gaye’s 1970s catalog a couple years later via a later-issued greatest hits collection, it was like a bell went off in my head: “Well, duh, this is why everyone loves Marvin Gaye so much.” Then I heard this album in its entirety and I reconnected with my black self. Okay, that’s just stupid, but you get my drift. If I’m stuck on a desert island in a bunker that’s well stocked with food, has a comfortable bed and a turntable, and all I have to do is push a button every 108 minutes, this record better be there.
“Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler)”
88 The Smiths — The Smiths (1984) LP
In hindsight, it’s perhaps odd that The Smiths’ debut was the first record of the groups that I heard, considering they released three other studio albums and countless compilations always seemed to flood record store shelves. But this is where I started, at the beginning. And “Reel Around the Fountain,” the first Smiths song I ever heard, is still my favorite. “Slap me on the patio, I’ll take it now” — I remember the double take I did upon hearing that lyric for the first time. What a spectacular record: “This Charming Man,” “Hand in Glove,” “Pretty Girls Make Graves,” “What Difference Does it Make?” …
“Reel Around the Fountain”
87 Arab Strap — The Week Never Starts ‘Round Here (1997) CD
I don’t remember what it was about the listing for this album (on Parasol Mail Order’s paper updates they used to send out) that spurred me to order it, but I’m glad I did. I liked Slint as much as the next indie rock fan, but there was something especially odd about Arab Strap’s take on Slint that attracted me to them even more than the group they were obviously channeling on their debut. I’m sure it was Aidan Moffat’s odd spoken lyrics about coming of age and his perversity, coupled with the fact that while dark, Arab Strap’s music was more approachable than Slint’s. Then there’s “The First Big Weekend,” which sounds exactly like a Trainspotting outtake. I LOVE this song. Be sure to stick around until you get to the 3:40 mark, when the really head-banging part kicks in.
“The First Big Weekend”
86 Dead Meadow — Shivering King and Others (2003) LP
Dead Meadow was my portal into space rock/stoner rock. This record sounds as if it was recorded in a Folgers coffee can. The riffs are so raucous and the psychedelia so seductive. Most people I know couldn’t give a flying fuck about these guys, which doesn’t surprise me given that stoner rock is a largely derided genre among indie rockers. But I love ’em, so much so that I even named a previous incarnation of my blog after their song, “Good Moanin’.”
“Good Moanin'”
85 Digital Underground — Sex Packets (1990) cassette
Of all people, it was C.J. who introduced me to Digital Underground. While gangsta-rap and politically-conscious hip hop was gaining serious steam, Digital Underground snuck on the scene to play the role of P-Funk. “The Humpty Dance” introduced the world to Shock-G and the Underground, but this record is deep with choice cuts. Back in the day, I loved the lewd lyrics and especially dug the concept suite that ends the record and provides its title. Psychoactive drugs, woohoo!
“Packet Man”
84 Dingle — “Scooby Doo” single (1995) 7″
Dingle was the original pseudonym for Jeff Gramm’s indie-pop group that soon became Aden, one of my favorite pop bands of the late 1990s and early 2000s — otherwise known as The Parasol Years (because I was constantly buying records from the mail order and eventually worked for it). This is a quintessential indie pop gem and neatly sums up what Aden is all about: sentimentalism, great hooks, off-key singing, interesting guitar playing, and a low-key rhythm section. I listened to a lot of indie pop for about a six-year period in my life; then, as this song suggests, I suppose I “got bored.” Or maybe not, cause I still love this song and this sound.
“Scooby Doo”
83 Bob Marley — Uprising (1980) LP
Marley’s final studio album would serve as my initial foray into reggae. This was a hand-me-down from my younger, older brother, and during my sophomore year in high school I wore it out. While I no longer listen to much reggae, to this day I love the spirituality of this music as well as the sense of yearning inherent to Marley’s message.
“Zion Train”
82 Thelonious Monk — Monkism (1980) LP
The release date for this collection of solo Monk recordings from 1954 remains a mystery to me. My vinyl version, which also lists the album title in plural form, says 1980. And I can’t seem to locate a correct date via Allmusic, which lists a CD version from 1998 with no prior mention. Whatever. Monk was one of the very first jazz musicians I ever heard, and his style of play clicked with me before I could even translate why. (I’m still not sure I can.) This record was my first taste of Monk and “‘Round Midnight” hooked me for good. Months later I heard him with a backing band and years later I finally heard him backed by Max Roach and Sonny Rollins on Brilliant Corners, which is now probably my favorite of his studio recordings.
“‘Round Midnight”
81 Palace — “West Palm Beach” single (1994) 7″
This was a fairly unique single for Palace at this juncture in Will Oldham’s career. It was better produced and texturally richer than Days in the Wake, also released in 1994. I bought this single after Wake and I especially dug the lackadaisical, country vibe on this single’s b-side, “Gulf Shores.” When I think of Will Oldham, I think of this song first and foremost.
“Gulf Shores”
80 Dan Deacon — Spiderman of the Rings (2007) CD
There’s no one else making music right now that sounds like Dan Deacon. That, when added to the fact that his music is as addictive as crack cocaine and as silly as Bugs Bunny and you can dance to it, is why this album makes the list. It floored me.
“The Crystal Cat”
79 Lee Hazlewood — 13 (1972) CD
Hazlewood released many good records with disparate approaches and the bulk of his catalog is rewarding. I adore the groovy, swank horns of 13 and Lee channeling his inner lounge singer. This record just makes me happy every time I listen to it, thanks in large part to the soaring horn arrangements, bubbly bass and organ, and the stoned, soulful vibe.
“Hej [sic], Me I’m Riding”
78 Fugazi — Fugazi (1988) cassette
“I won’t sit idly by / I’m planning a big surprise / I’m gonna fight for what I want to be / And I won’t make the same mistakes / Because I know how much time that wastes / And function is the key to the waiting room / I don’t want the news (I cannot use it) / I don’t want the news (I won’t live by it) / Sitting outside of town / Everybody’s always down (tell me why) / Because they can’t get up.” Do they make better anthems for kids to sing?
“Waiting Room”
77 Sebadoh — Bakesale (1994) LP
1994 sure was a good year for music. I listened to this moody slab of indie rock with great frequency. “Together or Alone” was a shared anthem between me and my first serious girlfriend. With that knowledge in hand, it’s probably little surprise that we aren’t still together (yet possibly surprising that we did last 5+ years). Anyway, this record has a classic indie rock sound that has aged well, like Crooked Rain or Bee Thousand. Yet nobody really savors Sebadoh the same way they do the group’s peers. ‘Tis a shame, because this is a really fucking good record.
“Magnet’s Coil”
76 The Stooges — Fun House (1970) CD
A killer punk rock record. The band just torches the studio while Iggy leaps around with a can of gasoline, dousing everything that moves. They say that writing intelligently about rock and roll is almost as difficult as playing intelligent rock and roll. Well, I’m like a blathering idiot when it comes to formulating words about this record. It affects me on a primal level and makes me feel like a teenager again with nothing to lose — which is the whole point, I think.
“1970”
Up next, Nos. 75–51
2 Comments so far
Leave a comment
The Noiseboy Online 
I love Lee Hazlewood – he’s a huge obsession of mine. I can’t think of anyone who could swing from soul-crushing depression to embarassing-as-hell hokum as easily as he did. The “Nancy & Lee” album is probably my favorite.
Comment by Bedheaded March 5, 2009 @ 10:04 am[…] The records that sorta made a big impact on me, part 3 […]
Pingback by The records that sorta made a big impact on me, part 5 « The Noiseboy Online March 22, 2009 @ 4:13 pm