The Noiseboy Online

Parts one, two, three, and four. Just a reminder: These are randomly ordered, and the media format refers to the original time I purchased the album. In many cases, I now own the album in a different format.

50 18th Dye — Tribute to a Bus (1995) LP
I first purchased the “Play with You” seven inch, which introduced me to the erratic, noisy feedback pop of 18th Dye. (No big surprise, Steve Albini produced this record.) But then I got the full length and was blown away by the group’s pensive, gentler side. “Poolhouse Blue” is one of my favorite songs from the 1990s. I absolutely love the drum sound on this recording. There’s nothing complicated about the drum playing, but the sound is so crystalline it adds to the robotic nature of the beat and serves to contrast Heike Radeker’s vocals. Plenty of Pixies-inspired soft-loud-soft pedal pushing going on here, but I just love love love these Germans, nonetheless. Great record cover, too.

“Poolhouse Blue”

49 Nick Drake — Bryter Layter (1970) CD
You take on the absolute best folk songwriters ever and add Richard Thompson and Dave Pegg and John Cale and Joe Boyd to the equation and what you get is a no-brainer: a phenomenal record. I always gravitated toward this record (of his three) most frequently, in part because I loved the simplicity of its cover: Drake, guitar on lap, leaning forward and peering into the camera, his shoes removed (as if he’s just sitting down in your living room to perform for you). The recording is so pristine, the instrumentation so varied, the songwriting so sublime. One of the best folk albums ever put to tape.

“One of These Things First”

48 Billy Idol — Rebel Yell (1983) LP
My younger, older brother used to play this record around the house and it seriously spooked me. I was maybe 7 or 8 at the time, so cut me some slack. Of course, now when I listen to this record — and I do still dig it — I chuckle thinking that Billy’s fake sneer and tough guy ‘tude could have ever induced a shiver of fear in me. But c’mon, “Rebel Yell” was a pretty rocking song, and “Flesh for Fantasy” is just weird, no? And what the fuck is “Eyes Without a Face” even about? Most of the music that had a big impact on me as a young kid intimidated me in some fashion, which, I suppose, is what good rock music is supposed to do.

“Flesh for Fantasy”

47 Joy Division — Unknown Pleasures (1979) cassette
I first heard Joy Division when I was a junior in high school and I recall a general feeling of “not getting it.” What was the big deal? About a year later, I returned to this album and had a completely different reaction. I was sucked in by the monotony of the rhythm section and all the odd atmospherics going on in the background. Ian Curtis sounded like a punk version of Jim Morrison. It clicked. I remember listening to “Shadowplay” over and over again while cruising the strip in my Dodge Dynasty.

“Shadowplay”

46 The Doors — Strange Days (1967) CD
The Doors largely introduced me to psychedelic music and the concept of drugs impacting one’s musical exploration. For reasons that I can’t quite recall, I was attracted to Strange Days more so than any of The Doors’ other records. It was one of the first CDs I purchased — if memory serves, I picked it up used from the Peoria Record Co., but it could have just as easily been Capitol Music — and I devoured it, from the mellow, swirling organ-drenched psychedelia of opener “Strange Days” through the marathon closer, “When the Music’s Over.” Ben and I sure listened to a ton of Doors in high school.

“Strange Days”

45 Yo La Tengo — Electr-O-Pura (1995) LP
This is a criminally-underrated album in Yo La Tengo’s discography, stuck between the critical favorite Painful and the popular favorite I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One. My first interview ever was a phoner with James McNew in 1995; he was the nicest guy, putting up with my silly questions. Yo La Tengo also largely introduced me to the concept of a live “indie rock” band as I saw them play the second stage of Lollapalooza (along with Brainiac, Dirty Three, Beck, and The Coctails) in 1995. I had attended Lollapalooza in 1993, but that year I was still more obsessed with main stage acts like Rage Against the Machine, Dinosaur Jr., and Primus. (I skipped 1994 for some reason.) Anyway, Yo La Tengo ripped through a great set that day, and I still refuse to accept them for the more timid band they’ve since become.

“Decora”

44 The Who — Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy (1971) LP
All the early hits are here, from “I Can’t Explain,” to “My Generation,” to “Pinball Wizard,” but also some of the group’s more oddball early favorites, like “Boris the Spider” and “Happy Jack.” I really liked “Pictures of Lilly” and “I’m a Boy” a lot. I recall fretting over whether I should include ten Who songs in my Top 100 Rock Songs of All time list. (This was part of the larger effort, the Top 500 Rock Songs of All Time, compiled when I was a freshman in high school.) Anyway, my copy now skips on a few songs, which is fine because I own all of these tunes on CD now anyway. This comp came out the same year as Who’s Next. Man, these guys were really on top of the world in 1971.

“I’m a Boy”

43 V/A — Pump Up the Volume Soundtrack (1990) cassette
Of course the soundtrack for a film that changed my life would make this list. Happy Harry Hard-on is largely responsible for me becoming a DJ, minoring in broadcasting, and, really, beginning to get into good music. Through Pump Up the Volume, I first met the Pixies, Sonic Youth, Soundgarden, Bad Brains, Leonard Cohen, Concrete Blonde, Richard Hell, and The Descendents. Not too shabby.

Concrete Blonde – “Everybody Knows”

42 Brainiac — Bonsai Superstar (1994) CD
This album, U.S. Maple’s Long Hair in Three Stages, and Six Finger Satellite’s Severe Exposure were released within a year of each other and introduced me to indie rock’s weirder side. Tim Taylor was one of indie rock’s best frontmen, a Jon Spencer type but with more imagination. The inspiring thing was, Brainiac pulled off all this crazy shit live. Or, maybe more precisely, Brainiac was able to transfer the frenetic energy of their live show to tape.

“Fucking with the Altimiter”

41 John Coltrane — My Favorite Things (1960) LP
If you’re going to fall in love with one jazz record in your lifetime, this is a great place to start. It’s where I did. What Coltrane does to the title track is, of course, the stuff of legend.

“My Favorite Things”

40 Michael Jackson — Bad (1987) cassette
I was too young to experience Thriller in the flesh. I remember hearing its singles on the radio and seeing kids wear the red faux-leather jackets with zippers (and the glove!), but I didn’t own a copy of the record until I was in high school, almost a decade after its release. I did get Bad when it came out, though, and I was obsessed with it. The easygoing pop tunes, like “The Way You Make Me Feel” and “Bad,” were a blast, but I tended to gravitate toward the moodier numbers (per usual), like “Smooth Criminal” and “Dirty Diana.” I loved the fully-evolved narrative of Jackson’s songs. The better ones were little mini-dramas, like “Smooth Criminal,” and to an 11-year-old’s mind, it was pure theater.

“Dirty Diana”

39 Live — Mental Jewelry (1991) cassette
This induces a cringe now. I thought I was listening to a brand new R.E.M. when I took to Live my sophomore year of high school, shortly after discovering the Chili Peppers. In hindsight, this album sounds incredibly naive, like the sort of thing an idealistic high school kid would record (or listen to). Anyway, I remember when Throwing Copper came out a couple years later and Jon and Mike and Jim came over to my house and we listened to it before heading off into the woods to hike. Matter of fact, I also recall listening to Mental Jewelry while driving somewhere outside of Morton to go hiking with Jon. Live = hiking, apparently. Anyway, as the band became huge thanks to Throwing Copper, I quickly lost interest. I had recently disowned the church and I didn’t want to associate with a band that overtly appealed to religious types. Talk about naive. (I shall now go burn all my gospel funk, R&B, and country records.)

“Take Me Anthem”

38 Pavement — Crooked Rain Crooked Rain (1994) CD
I can’t think of many records I’ve listened to more than Crooked Rain. I got into an ongoing debate several years ago with Zac about whether Wowee Zowee is a better album than Crooked Rain. (He thought so.) I’m ready to admit that Cheap Trick’s “Surrender” is a better song than “I Want You to Want Me” (another argument we often had), but there’s no convincing me that Crooked Rain isn’t Pavement’s tour de force. (If anything, the argument is between Crooked Rain and its predecessor.) I mean, how many records leave you the option of debating between three songs as fucking rad as “Gold Soundz,” “Elevate Me Later,” and “Cut Your Hair” for the honor of “best indie pop song EVAH!” Then you add in the twangy, melancholic “Range Life” and you see a band clearly growing from its stellar roots. Bury me with this one too, please.

“Elevate Me Later”

37 Public Enemy — Fear of a Black Planet (1990) cassette
Dustin was the big PE fan. He got kicked out of school one day for wearing his “anti-Nigger machine” t-shirt and he had that big bullseye PE logo painted on his wall. (Man, Fred, his dad, was too cool for allowing that.) This record was like cocaine for my young mind, a totally foreign substance, sonically, lyrically, musically. To think that in the course of a few short years I went from DJ Jazzy Jeff to PE.

“Brothers Gonna Work It Out”

36 The Rolling Stones — Exile on Main St. (1972) CD
It’s so funny that I got into Exile on Main St. as a result of getting into Exile in Guyville. By my senior year of high school, when Liz Phair released her landmark debut, I was already well on my way to enjoying the Stones. But I had never explored their ’70s catalog, thinking, wrongly, that they began to suck during that era. Anyway, I remember it was a humid summer day when I first heard this album and “Rocks Off” just sounded like summer singing loudly. I got into this record about the same time I got into Big Star and The Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo, a nice little trifecta if I do say so myself.

“Tumbling Dice”

35 The Byrds — Sweetheart of the Rodeo (1968) LP
I came to The Byrds a bit later than their peers, The Beatles, Stones, Kinks, et al. But like many I fell for Roger McGuinn’s jangly, twelve-string guitar and the band’s tight harmonies in one fell swoop. Then I heard Sweetheart and my mind was blown. This was my introduction to Gram Parsons’ songwriting. Sweetheart also forced me to track down The Louvin Brothers and Merle Haggard. (The Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan covers are also spectacular.) So, one record was largely responsible for me seeking out the roots of country (and outlaw country) music, not to mention everything Gram Parsons. Good god.

“You Ain’t Going Nowhere”

34 Wire — Pink Flag (1977) CD
My favorite punk rock record, Pink Flag sounded like little else I had heard. Wire was doing their own thing, and in 1977 that was rather impressive. The first couple times I listened to this, I was frustrated by the album’s complexity (lack of consistent verse/chorus/verse structure) and the brevity of many of the songs. (Oddly enough, I remember getting into The Minutemen about the same time and having largely the same initial reaction.) After my mind settled a bit, I was able to focus on the lyrics and the killer riffs and rhythms and it was mind-blowing time. I remember having just one particular lyric, “Drowning in the big swim, rising to the surface” (from “Lowdown”), stuck in my head for days on end. It’s amazing how much of a debt Fugazi owes to this particular Wire album.

“Lowdown”

33 Spoon — Kill the Moonlight (2002) CD
I may have listened to this record more than any other released in this decade. Spoon’s quartet of albums, beginning with Series of Sneaks, are all great, but this is the one I returned to most passionately upon its release.

“Small Stakes”

32 The Modern Lovers — The Modern Lovers (1976) CD
What could have been? If Jonathan Richman would have had a different experience getting his debut album released, maybe the band would’ve toured in support of this record, found stardom, and then, possibly, Richman wouldn’t have soured on loud, garagey rock and roll. The fact that this is the lone, proper album recorded with this lineup is a shame. But that just lends to the legend. I fell for Richman with such intensity it was a bit scary. I recall purchasing this record shortly after I moved to Champaign in early 1999. It rarely left the CD player of my girlfriend’s truck, going everywhere with me for a long time.

“She Cracked”

31 Jane’s Addiction — Nothing’s Shocking (1988) cassette
A certain well-known story has circulated regarding my experience with the group’s follow-up to Nothing’s Shocking; but despite those circumstances, I definitely liked this album better. I identified with it on multiple levels: the strangeness of Perry Farrell (“Ted, Just Admit It …”), the ferocity of songs like “Ocean Size” and “Mountain Song,” the Peppers’ influence (or vice versa) on “Idiots Rule,” the sonic texturing (“Summertime Rolls”), and the catchy shit, too. Of course, I got into this record several years after its release (although, how cool would it have been to have switched between Michael Jackson’s Bad and this record?).

“Ocean Size”

30 Animal Collective — Feels (2005) CD
Feels was one of my favorite records of 2005. When I look back at the albums that I placed alongside it for that honor — Devendra Banhart’s Cripple Crow, Antony and the Johnsons’ I Am a Bird Now, Spoon’s Gimme Fiction, Oneida’s The Wedding, Cass McCombs’ PREfection, Jose Gonzalez’s Veneer, Dead Meadow’s Feathers — I find that I’ve returned to Feels far more often than any of those records (save for maybe Oneida). This record just has an undeniable vitality to it. It’s inspiring, weird, and fun.

“Grass”

29 My Bloody Valentine — Loveless (1991) CD
My Bloody Valentine were a unique band with such an influential and otherworldly sound, like Stereolab pumped full of helium. They triggered my love of shoegaze and helped me find the beauty in a lot of British music that may have otherwise been passed over in favor of straightforward rock/indie. Thanks to MBV I got into Slowdive and Ride and Spiritualized.

“When You Sleep”

28 Tom Waits — Swordfishtrombones (1983) CD
I picked up a compilation of Tom Waits’ earliest material from the library when I was a junior in high school and that peaked my interest enough to pick up one of his albums. I’m glad I started here, when Waits was transitioning his sound to that of a ragtag, Salvation Army band and doing his best Capt. Beefheart vocal interpretation. “16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought-Six” knocked me flat on my back. “Underground” was instantly loveable, and “Frank’s Wild Years” resonated with the Charles Bukowski in me. I thought I was the coolest kid in town because I “got” Tom Waits.

“16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought-Six”

27 Tortoise — Millions Now Living Will Never Die (1996) LP
Tortoise was my favorite band for a solid two-year period. Their soundscapes were mesmerizing and their live show jaw-droppingly good. I remember putting together an entire theater class exercise set to “Djed” that focused on visualization and breathing. I don’t listen to Tortoise much anymore and I’m not sure why. I think this part of me still yearns to go for a walk every once in a while, but I just ignore it.

“Glass Museum”

26 The Police — Reggatta de Blanc (1979) LP
The Police were another gift from my younger, older brother. He was a big fan and so I inherited all five of their albums. This may be their least appreciated, but it’s my fave. I love the dark edges to this record (“Bring on the Night”) and the dub-influenced production (“Walking on the Moon”). The individual musical performances find the trio at their best. The Police were — and might still be — one of my favorite bands.

“Walking on the Moon”

Coming up, the final installment.