cold blooded old times | The Noiseboy Online

March 1, 2010, 12:00 am
Filed under: cold blooded old times, compilations, mp3s, music

The records that sorta made a big impact on me, part 5

March 22, 2009, 4:12 pm
Filed under: cold blooded old times, mp3s, music

records051

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.

1 comment

The records that sorta made a big impact on me, part 4

March 12, 2009, 2:10 am
Filed under: cold blooded old times, mp3s, music

records04

The show must go on. Read Parts One, Two, and Three.

75 Belle & Sebastian — If You’re Feeling Sinister (1996) CD
This came out during my junior year of college and I fell madly in love with it. I listened to it while walking across campus and felt so unique in comparison to my surroundings. Here I was attending a rural college of mostly rural, small town folks. I felt so out of sorts — not because my heritage was different from my peers, but rather my expectations had broadened so widely. I didn’t know many people who liked the same things as me. At the time, I had a long-distance relationship with a girl who I did share such things with, and Sinister was one of the cultural tidbits that glued our relationship together. That’s one of the many reasons this album rarely left my Walkman. This is one of my ten favorite albums of all time, and I doubt I’ll ever tire of listening to it.

“Like Dylan in the Movies”

74 The Cure — Mixed Up (1990) cassette
My introduction to The Cure did not come via the heralded precursor to this album, Disintegration, but rather this collection of remixes and re-recordings. I can not disassociate Mixed Up from my high school years. It reminds me of my weirdo high school girl friends (two words) and is truly one of the first exotic (and erotic!) albums I listened to. Some of my favorite bass lines exist on this album (I’m looking at you, “Lovesong” and “Fascination Street” and “Hot Hot Hot!!!”).

“Lovesong”

73 Madonna — True Blue (1986) cassette
Like a Virgin came out in ’84 and made sure Madonna was all over the radio, but it was True Blue that I fell for. Outside of the title track, the singles from this record were all mostly weird and moody to my 10-year-old ears. Even “Open Your Heart” had this sense of longing to it that I found entirely compelling. “Live to Tell” and “La Isla Bonita” were my favorites, though. The former creeped me out and will forever be linked in my memory to this kid from my school who was killed when he was struck by a truck that pinned him against a tree. Every time I went to church we drove past that tree, and on at least one occasion this song was playing on the radio at that time. So “Live to Tell” took on a different meaning than Madonna intended. The latter song also has a tie to church, but in a more positive way. Sarah, my best friend from church, and I memorized the lyrics to “La Isla Bonita,” and I recall going somewhere for a church trip — probably a ski trip but I can’t be certain — and us singing that song the entire way there and back. Man, Mad Libs and Madonna, what a combo.

“Live to Tell”

72 Prince — Dirty Mind (1980) LP
This was one of Prince’s two earlier records that I picked up for “free” (the other being Controversy) while in high school. I was already quite familiar with Prince due to the success of 1999 and Purple Rain, but it wasn’t until my high school years that I began to dig deeper into his catalog. One of my high school girlfriends, Cindy, loved Prince, too. But she didn’t like his older stuff that much. I dug this album a lot, mostly because it was perverse and, in general, more funky. Prince, along with the Ohio Players, Sly, the Chili Peppers, and P-Funk, really got me into funk music in a big way. And, this record includes the original of one of my favorite Cyndi Lauper tunes, “When You Were Mine.”

“Head”

71 Neutral Milk Hotel — On Avery Island (1996) CD

I loved In the Aeroplane and still think it’s a brilliant record, but On Avery Island served as my introduction to Jeff Mangum and really did blow me away on first listen. So while Aeroplane is considered his critical masterpiece — and rightly so — this record paved the way for me and hence holds a bit more significance. “A Baby for Pree” and it’s companion, “Where You’ll Find Me Now,” are also among the very best songs he’s ever written, in my book. Oddly enough, this was the free CD I selected to accompany my subscription to Magnet. Thanks, Magnet!

“Where You’ll Find Me Now”

70 Smog — Knock Knock (1999) CD
Picking my favorite Smog record is a tough proposition, but this is the one that I listened to the most, save for possibly the Kicking A Couple Around EP. Bill Callahan really put it all together on this one, and it highlights his songwriting diversity quite well. This was my favorite new record for about six months.

“Held”

69 Sonic Youth — Goo (1990) cassette
I’m pretty sure I purchased Goo the same time I got Dirty in 1992, because I remember listening to the two albums in tandem for some time. At the time, I favored Goo for some reason. Then, a couple years later, Jon (as Boddha) covered “Mildred Pierce” at the Madison, which was rad as fuck! Anyway, Pump Up the Volume provided my informal introduction to Sonic Youth, and I distinctly remember upon seeing that film and purchasing the soundtrack that I really wanted to love Sonic Youth, because I knew they were a hot-shit band, but I just couldn’t get into them. Goo changed that. It certainly helped that both Goo and Dirty had some poppy songs, because my young mind didn’t quite know what to do with all the noise.

“My Friend Goo”

68 Michael Hurley — Armchair Boogie (1970) mp3
Michael Hurley is an oddball folkie from the Greenwich Village 1960s scene and sometime collaborator with the Holy Modal Rounders. Recently, Cat Power has covered a couple of his songs. No one (that I’ve heard) has a style and sound quite like Hurley, as evidenced by the stellar “Sweedeedee,” one of my favorite songs of all time. But Hurley was also fiddlin’ and singing songs about “light green fellows” and werewolves, so he can be a bit out there. Regardless, there’s a certain resolute, tangible quality to Hurley’s songwriting that makes it incredibly powerful, yet still fun. You can’t find this on CD right now, but it was very recently reissued on vinyl.

“Sweedeedee”

67 Dungen — Ta Det Lugnt (2004) CD
In hindsight, I find it perplexing that this record blew up the way it did. I suppose there are other examples of bands playing psychedelic music and singing in foreign (or made up) languages who became critical darlings overnight. Sigor Rós comes to mind. But their music is lulling and largely agreeable, whereas Dungen is a full-fledged psych rock band. And that’s why this record flattened me. It’s easily one of my five favorite albums recorded since the turn of the century. A true masterpiece, methinks.

“Festival”

66 The Silver Apples — Contact (1969) CD
I first heard The Silver Apples about a decade ago and I definitely wasn’t ready for them, yet. I hated them, actually. It took me a long time to give them another chance, but I finally caved last year and picked up both of their records. Man, what had I been depriving myself of? Listening to this record made me feel all gooey and upside down, like the way I felt the first time I heard Can. It’s so fun to stumble into music like this once you get to the point where your musical universe is starting to feel sort of stale, which happens with greater frequency the older I get.

“Ruby”

65 Codeine — Barely Real EP (1992) CD
When I listened to Codeine, all seemed right in my world. Their debut full-length, Frigid Stars, could just as easily have been given the nod here, but it was Barely Real that I first heard. “Realize” and the title track are sledgehammers of relational distress. When Stephen Immerwahr sings, “I feel like string. I feel like nothing,” I melt into a puddle of EMO.

“Barely Real”

64 Neil Young — On the Beach (1974) CD
When this was finally re-released a few years ago, it instantly became my new favorite Neil Young record. On the Beach combines the best of all aspects of Young’s 1970s catalog into one record: the funkier rockin’ pop, the mellow ballad, the rawer electric blues, the acoustic old-timey country, and Neil’s typical social dialogues and rants. And there’s not a bummer in the bunch.

“Walk On”

63 Yabby U — King Tubby’s Prophecy of Dub (1995) CD
Yabby U — or Yabby You, depending on, well, I don’t really know what — was a centerpiece of Jamaican reggae/dub singers, which you really wouldn’t know by listening to this record. The great dub producer King Tubby strips all of the vocal tracks from the original recordings, leaving just the skeletal remains of Yabby’s mid-’70s songs, which Tubby then fucks with in typical dub fashion. This record is phenomenal and is solely responsible for my fascination with dub music. The fact that I bought such an obscure compilation at Best Buy is hilarious.

“Version Dub”

62 Versus — Dead Leaves (1995) LP
Allmusic says, “Energetic but erratic, it’s by no means the best introduction to the group.” Huh, I’d have to disagree. This collection of singles and outtakes is fucking spectacular. Good ole Art introduced me to these guys and I was instantly drawn to the bombast, the odd lyrics, and the dynamic between Fontaine Toups and Richard Baluyut. Songs like “Forest Fire” and “Insomnia” still sound vital to this day. And the pop tunes — “Merry Go Round,” “Tin Foil Star,” really the whole of Side B — are so enjoyable. Versus was a criminally overlooked band. You can have your Superchunk; I’ll take my Versus.

“Forest Fire”

61 U2 — Achtung Baby (1991) cassette
They don’t make rock records like this anymore. And by they, I don’t just mean U2.

“Zoo Station”

60 Television — Marquee Moon (1977) CD
They don’t make rock records like this anymore. And by they, I don’t just mean Richard Lloyd and Tom Verlaine. It’s one thing to say that I had never heard guitars played like this before. That’s true, but doesn’t tell the whole story. Verlaine’s exceptional lyrics and totally wild singing voice can’t be neglected. Put two and two together and you end up with a record that baffles small-town Midwestern minds like mine. I was 19 when I first heard this record, and it instantly became a classic for me. It sounded like the most spectacular collision of notes I had ever heard.

“Venus”

59 Iron & Wine — The Creek Drank the Cradle (2002) CD
I came to this record about a year late. None of my friends at the time were spinning it and for some reason I had suppressed any interest in finding out what the hype was all about. I don’t remember exactly who eventually convinced me to give it a shot, but I’d like to buy that person a beer. Sam Beam is not the most original voice, but he is a masterful songwriter and lyricist. This record tugged at my shirt sleeve for months after I bought it. I was just falling in love with a new girl, M, and starting a new career, and so my life was in an exciting transitional phase. But with that transition, for various reasons, came a general anxiousness and unease, as if I was about to solve my biggest puzzle to date. The melancholy, contemplative mood on this album resonated with me for that reason and so these songs will always remind me of M.

“Southern Anthem”

58 INXS — Kick (1987) cassette
I was only 11 when this came out, and I recall riding my bike to K-Mart to purchase “Need You Tonight” on seven inch. It was one of the few seven inches I purchased before they were phased out in favor of cassingles, then CD singles. I purchased the entire album shortly after buying that seven inch and I listened to it tirelessly. I remember hauling my boombox outside and listening to Kick while I tossed a tennis ball onto the roof of our three-story house and waited for it to drop back down into my baseball glove. I also remember slow-dancing to “Never Tear Us Apart” with Carla, one of my earliest girlfriends, in sixth grade. We made a good couple, briefly.

“Need You Tonight/Mediate”

57 Bob Dylan — Highway 61 Revisited (1965) LP
Everyone has a Bob Dylan moment, right? Mine came during my junior year of high school, when this record magically came into my possession. How did it feel, you ask, to be on my own, with no direction home, a complete unknown, like a rolling stone? It felt fucking fabulous. Every few years I get obsessed with a different song on this album, possibly as my general tastes shift and expand. Lately, it’s been “From a Buick 6,” which is just a badass song.

“From a Buick 6”

56 The Blackouts — Living in Blue (2005) CD
After having spent several years following and chronicling the C-U scene, a band that I really loved finally released a record that I could stand firmly behind. I gave The Blackouts their first taste of national press when I interviewed them for Skyscraper. While I doubt that press did them a whole lot of good in the long run, it felt good to watch them grow up, sonically speaking. These guys are by far my favorite local band of old and this record is a fine testament to their talent and the promise many of us once saw in them. Put these guys in a bigger pond with more media attention and I think they would’ve hopped on a hype machine and worked it to their advantage. The reason this record makes the list is simple: those of us who have enjoyed being a part of a local scene know that following a scene, growing along with it in an organic sense, can really be a life-affirming experience. I have no problem admitting that I lived vicariously through many of the bands I covered and watched on stage. And it was damn fun.

“No Tomorrow”

55 Los Dug Dug’s — Los Dug Dug’s (1971) CD
No band better represents my quest to collect garage rock from around the world than Los Dug Dug’s, who in 1971 broke barriers by releasing an English-language rock record in Mexico. This was one of the earlier full lengths I picked up as I began seriously searching out global garage’edelia™ several years ago, and it’s a spectacular record. For every so-so obscure dud I’ve purchased, a record like this makes up for five of ’em. The Dug Dug’s convinced me to continue collecting — and not just because we share a namesake.

“Eclipse”

54 Nirvana — Nevermind (1991) cassette
So of course this record dented my skull when I was in high school. I gave up an entire letter grade in band to see Nirvana perform live 0n the In Utero tour. (Long story, but it involves skipping a day’s worth of classes without telling my parents. And they found out.) I don’t often find myself wanting to listen to this record. I suppose that is because I listened to it so often when I was a teenager that its notes, rhythms, and lyrics have permanently settled into my bloodstream. However …

“Breed”

53 Nirvana — Bleach (1989) cassette
… I still listen to Bleach with regularity. I purchased it from the Coconut’s in Peoria shortly before Nevermind came out. I remember gravitating toward Bleach moreso than Nevermind for a good stretch of time, in part because I wanted to seem cooler than all the Nirvana poseurs, and in part because I loved the rawness of the record. Maybe the songs weren’t as good as on Nevermind, but the entire record had the same sound as the first ten seconds of “Breed.” To me, that lack of slickness and that sound — a sludgy, mechanical, metallic noise — was pure vitriol. Bleach was punk as fuck.

“Negative Creep”

52 The Ramones — Road to Ruin (1978) LP
The Ramones released four records in two years — quite a kickstart to their career. This was the last of those four records and certainly the least appreciated. That’s probably deservedly so, but while “Blitzkrieg Bop” and “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue” was The Ramones to many, “I Wanna Be Sedated” was The Ramones to me circa my freshman year of high school. That’s when my younger, older brother passed his tiny punk rock collection on to me. (I also got Pleasant Dreams!) So I fell in love with The Ramones trying to be Rock Stars instead of The Ramones trying to be Punk Rock Stars. Whatever.

“Don’t Come Close”

51 The Fall — Palace of Swords Reversed (1987) CD
I first heard The Fall after I had already begun listening to a shitload of indie rock bands who were obviously paying tribute to Mark E. Smith and Co. Has there ever been a better song than “Totally Wired” to flail your arms about madly while spinning yourself into a nauseous, crumpled mess? I think not. Anyway, a couple years later I got my first look at Mark E. Smith thanks to some VHS tape at Rentertainment and I felt like I had definitely found someone disgusting enough to be worshipped.

“Totally Wired”

Next up, Nos. 50–26

3 comments

The records that sorta made a big impact on me, part 3

March 5, 2009, 2:35 am
Filed under: cold blooded old times, mp3s, music

records03

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

The records that sorta made a big impact on me, part 2

March 1, 2009, 4:39 pm
Filed under: cold blooded old times, mp3s, music

records02

Continuing the conversation (and the really long list), here are Nos. 125–101. (Just a reminder, these are not listed in any particular order.)

125 The J.B.’s — Funky Good Time: The Anthology (1995) CD
The J.B.’s were James Brown’s backing band that included such luminaries as Fred Wesley and Maceo Parker. This spectacular comp, which has a lot of Brown on it (as well as some non-Brown tracks), introduced me to the good shit when it comes to hard-edged, horn-based funk. “Doing it to Death,” “Pass the Peas,” “You Can Have Watergate, Just Gimme Some Bucks and I’ll Be Straight,” “Givin’ Up Food for Funk,” etc. Funky Good Time showcases how much of James Brown’s ’70s sound should be credited directly to his backing band. He really extended the worthwhile portion of his career by at least a good five years thanks to the musicians he surrounded himself with during this period.

“The Grunt”

124 Life Without Buildings — Any Other City (2000) CD
This Glasgow band borrowed from the Rough Trade heyday in spectacular fashion. I fell in love with this record instantly, but it didn’t hurt that a spectacular short-lived fling was associated with my introduction to it. I doubt I’ll hear another band like this anytime soon.

“New Town”

123 U2 — The Joshua Tree (1987) cassette
If you grew up in the 1980s and this record didn’t make a big impression on you, I’d be surprised. I was 11 when this came out and I recall how odd the songs sounded to me at the time, particularly the eerie sonic textures of “With or Without You.” This record never grows old.

“With or Without You”

122 Townes Van Zandt — Townes Van Zandt (1969) LP
TVZ is one of my favorite songwriters and certainly one of the more underappreciated artists who worked in the country-folk genre. “Waiting Around to Die” is a force to be reckoned with and I now can not disassociate the song from this video footage. But the rest of this record also features what I feel are Townes’ best collection of songs. TVZ served as my introduction to one of my favorite artists that I’ve discovered as an adult.

“I’ll Be Here in the Morning”

121 Iggy Pop — Lust for Life (1977) CD
Iggy’s solo debut is a tour de force in which the songs you don’t know as his staples — “Tonight,” “Some Weird Sin,” “Sixteen” — are just as good as his hits, the title track and “The Passenger.” Bowie’s fingerprint is all over this record, which doesn’t hurt. My formal introduction to Iggy came on the Trainspotting soundtrack, which used “Lust for Life” in brilliant fashion. But it wasn’t until I heard this record a couple years after Trainspotting that I became permanently hooked on Iggy.

“Some Weird Sin”

120 The Magnetic Fields — 69 Love Songs (1999) CD
At the time of its release, 69 Love Songs was the only thing I cared to listen to for weeks on end. I took the afternoon off work the day it came out and pored over the detailed interview included in the booklet while listening to the three-disc volume on repeat. I still think this is one of the most impressive musical releases of the past five decades. I’m fortunate to have seen all 69 songs performed live, too.

“Reno Dakota”

119 Charles Mingus — Blues & Roots (1959) CD
I was into my second jazz phase when I picked this up at a Circuit City around ’97. I hosted a jazz radio show in college with a friend (he was a bigger jazz fan than me, so I was more along for the ride), and he introduced me to Mingus, but not this record. There’s something about the sound on this album that gives the listener an impression that a single mic was lowered into a small, sweaty, smokey room. I flipped for “Moanin'” instantly, with its swirling horns and mischievous mood.

“Moanin'”

118 Shellac — At Action Park (1994) LP
I was an angry kid when this record came out, so Steve Albini was a perfect fit for me. This is some of the angriest, most aggressive shit put to wax in the 1990s, and I fucking breathed it in and held it in my lungs for as long as possible. I throw this on — along with the preceding seven inchers — every eight months or so and it still fires me up.

“Dog and Pony Show”

117 Snoop Dogg — Doggystyle (1993) cassette
Jon and I used to drive around my hometown in his little station wagon listening to this on cassette. For some reason, his car stereo wasn’t working, so he had a small boombox sitting on his front dash. We blared this shit like the fucking wannabe gangsters we weren’t. Every time he’d turn a corner, the boombox would slide from one end of the dash to the other. “Tha Shiznit,” indeed.

“Tha Sniznit”

116 Andy Votel — Vertigo Mixed (2005) CD
Speaking of Jon, he introduced me to Votel, and this was the first comp of Votel’s that I heard in its entirety. Upon my first listen, I thought, “YES, this is what a rock and roll DJ can do!” Votel dices and splices a bounty of prog rock on this offering and the results are exceptionally listenable.

“Track Ten”

115 Various Artists — Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era (1998) CD
The motherload for anyone wanting to get into garage rock, Rhino’s 4-CD box was a blessing for a young, impressionable lad like me. I’ll never forget the advice Nick Rudd, then an astute record store clerk, passed on to me when I told him I was thinking about ordering this box from Swap: “Oh, you’ll love it. It’s great, because all the songs are good even though most of the bands never recorded entire records worth listening to.” Of course, I disregarded his advice soon after I bought Nuggets and started buying entire albums by the Electric Prunes, Count Five, The Seeds, The Remains, etc. Nick was wrong in some cases, but more than 10 years into collecting garage rock, I can admit there is certainly some truth to what he said.

The Elastik Band – “Spazz”

114 Funkadelic — Funkadelic (1970) CD
While I like Maggot Brain a smidgen more, it was Funkadelic that introduced me to Funkadelic. I love this period of the band’s work because the music is so moving and mystical. I had already fallen for Sly, Jimi, Curtis, and even The Meters by the time I first heard Funkadelic, but none of those bands prepared me for the rawness of this record. Most people think of funk music when they think of Funkadelic, and that obviously fits; but this was one of the first records I ever listened to that left me thinking, now this is soulful.

“I Bet You”

113 The Soft Boys — Underwater Moonlight (1980) CD
The Soft Boys taught me that punk could be exquisitely musical and decidedly weird, too. “I Wanna Destroy You” is the hit, but “Insanely Jealous” and “Tonight” are my faves. Alan Davies is a sadly underrated guitar player and Robyn Hitchcock is one of the greatest rock and roll songwriters. Underwater Moonlight is enough proof in and of itself.

“Tonight”

112 Pavement — Slanted & Enchanted (1992) LP
The memory is etched in my mind: laying belly-down on the carpet in Josh’s barren bedroom at his mom’s house as we listened to this album on cassette for the first time. I don’t remember why Josh had decided to pick this up — probably he had read about it in some fanzine and decided to believe the hype. I would have discovered Pavement with or without his help — they were too good and too influential for me not to — but I’m glad he sparked my love affair with the strange, grungy, pop goodness that is Pavement.

“Perfume-V”

111 Depeche Mode — Violator (1990) cassette
No one else mining the mainstream pop landscape sounded anything close to Depeche Mode in 1990, at least not to my ears. David Gahan was sublime. Some people my age track their interest in subversive electronic music back to Pretty Hate Machine, but for me it was Violator.

“Policy of Truth”

110 Beatnik Filmstars — “Bigot Sponger Haircut Policy” single (1995) 7″
I enjoyed all sorts of quirky British and Scottish indie rock during the mid-’90s: Urusei Yatsura, Boyracer, Boo Radleys, Bis, Hefner, The Wedding Present, etc. But none of it wowed me like the title track to this seven inch. My old Technics turntable had a repeat function that would pick the arm back up when a side was done and drop it back down at the start of the record. I wore that function out on side A of this sucker. What a catchy little lo-fi sonsabitch.

“Bigot Sponger Haircut Policy”

109 The Cars — The Cars (1978) LP
Another hand-me-down from my biggest brother and a classic debut album if there ever was one. This record cemented my love affair with New Wave. ‘Nuff said.

“Moving in Stereo”

108 Sloan — Twice Removed (1994) cassette
Sloan presented me with a lovely foil to Nirvana and I adored this album, the band’s second. I recently ran into Tyson, a friend from childhood, who also loves Sloan. He doesn’t like this record as much, though, calling it “college rock.” I suppose I would agree with that completely if you stuck a “CMJ” in front of “college rock” for further clarification. This is simply an addictive, quirky, melodic, power-pop masterpiece. It fits directly into a slim file of likewise albums, like Velocity Girl’s Simpatico, Possom Dixon’s self-titled debut, and Matthew Sweet’s 100% Fun. I just happen to like this record the best.

“Coax Me”

107 Nena — “99 Luftballons” single (1984) 7″
I was 8 when this song took over the airwaves. I had never been exposed to a foreign language in any substantial way. On that level alone, this song blew my mind. The fact that it was abstract and catchy just cemented its status as the best song I had ever heard. Also, my brother liked it, which made it all the cooler.

“99 Luftballons”

106 Wilco — Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002) CD
For some odd reason, I wanted to not like this record so damn much. I wanted to witness a nice backlash to the mountain of hype that preceded its release. But then I heard it and just a short time later I saw Wilco play at Foellinger and damn it if it wasn’t as good as advertised.

“I’m the Man Who Loves You”

105 Red Hot Chili Peppers — Mother’s Milk (1989) cassette
Brad introduced me to the RHCP while on a bus trip for band. I was just a freshman in high school, and nothing of this ilk had ever filled my head with such glee. The Chili Peppers really were the consummate band for a high schooler to fall in love with. They were perverse, free of filters, silly, sexy, spastic, un-P.C., funky, clever, offbeat, and just plain FUN. Soon, I would be, too.

“Taste the Pain”

104 The Kinks — Face to Face (1966) CD
I was already quite familiar with The Kinks’ early catalog when I read a review of Face to Face in a magazine (I forget which) that championed the album as an equal to Sgt. Pepper’s and Pet Sounds. That piqued my interest, so I checked it out and was promptly flattened by its excellence. I’m not going to say it’s on par with this or that record; what I will say is that I had never heard The Kinks as I heard them on “Rosie Won’t You Please Come Home” and “Sunny Afternoon.” This record was my gateway to the rest of the group’s late-’60s, early-’70s catalog. Upon hearing the breadth of their work from that era, I became convinced that The Kinks were the best rock band of their time. I still hold that belief.

“Sunny Afternoon”

103 Roky Erickson & the Aliens — The Evil One (1981) CD
Just a phenomenal hard rock album. After listening to the 13th Floor Elevators for years I had no idea that Roky’s solo stuff would be this heavy. Granted, most of his solo stuff isn’t, but this record showcases not only his weirdness in all its glory (“Bloody Hammer,” “Two-Headed Dog,” “Creature with the Atom Brain”) but also his pop sugartooth (“I Think of Demons,” “I Walked with a Zombie”). The Evil One may have more of Roky’s personality in it than even his stuff with the Elevators.

“I Think of Demons”

102 Dinosaur Jr. — Green Mind (1991) cassette
Some records will always be linked to distinct mental images. Green Mind brings to mind a drive through the country in Jon’s first car, which had those silly oblong speakers laying in the rear dash. There’s a good reason why so many of the records on this list are linked to Jon: when we spent time together in junior high, high school, and college, music was always the central feature and we always had a blast.

“The Wagon”

101 Serge Gainsbourg — Histoire de Melody Nelson (1971) CD
Outside of possibly Prince, I can’t think of another figure who operated so exclusively within the mainstream and produced such sexual music. I only first heard Melody Nelson about three years ago. I’m sad I waited so long to expand my Gainsbourg collection, because I could listen to the bass on this record for the rest of my life and never tire of it.

“Ballade De Melody Nelson”

Up next, Nos. 100–76.

5 comments

The records that sorta made a big impact on me, part 1

February 24, 2009, 10:33 pm
Filed under: cold blooded old times, mp3s, music

You’ve surely seen the “records that changed my life” lists that are currently circulating on Facebook. I’ve resisted partaking in that exercise, because: 1) I hate the process-of-elimination effort it takes to narrow a list of that ilk to just 15 or 20 entries (although I’ve now seen one that is 50 in length). Inevitably, the list ends up feeling shallow, half-assed, or just plain inaccurate when one truly thinks on the subject for a while; and 2) I’m not sure that I’ve actually listened to 15 or more albums that have honestly, truly, “changed my life.” C’mon. I like music more than most, and I’m not sure I can point to more than five albums that have really “changed” my life in a meaningful, long-lasting fashion. I’d rather not be prone to hyperbole.

So, as a substitute, please accept this long-winded list of 150 (!) albums that made a significant initial (and in some cases long-lasting) impression on me. (If you’re wondering how I ended up at that number, I simply flipped through all my records and compiled a list, and I ended up with 149 albums. Instead of cutting the list down to 100, I just upped it by one.) Shades of gray, you may say. What’s the difference between “significant impression” and “changed my life”? Plenty, I’d argue. First, I can honestly say that only a few of the records on this list are of the life-altering sort. Many are far from my favorite albums. Instead, the entries on this list arrived by circumstance. Whatever the reasons, these records sunk in and grabbed hold for a good while. They impacted my musical journey, but not my life journey. I’ve tried to rid the list of all historical revision; I haven’t tried to plug in cooler records when it was a worse album that originally did the trick. So you get to see the warts and all. This is sort of how I got from point A to point B in 150 steps.

This list goes back to my pre-teen years and I’m going to present it in random, non-alphabetical, non-weighted order. If the album in question was purchased on vinyl or cassette, I’ve indicated such (mostly because it’s fun to note my preferred format purchasing patterns; I was a late adopter to CD, for example). I’ve tried to largely keep the emphasis on albums, not songs. In some cases, I included seven-inch singles, because for a period of my life I purchased a lot of 45s, and through them I was introduced to much good music. But in general to make this list the record in question had to wow me as a whole.

A majority of this list wouldn’t make my Desert Island list. Regardless, these offerings rocked my world for a long time or a particularly intense while. Enjoy, and remember: the numbering system is not significant.

—

records01

150 John Cale — Fear (1974, year released) CD
I purchased Fear at the same as Paris 1919. While the latter is Cale’s more critically-heralded album, Fear has always been my favorite of the two. It is one of my Desert Island Discs, a truly stunning effort from start to finish. This was one of the first albums that I purchased, listened to, and without hesitation categorized as “adult music.” That’s not to say that this record isn’t quirky or rockin’ (how could it not be with half of Roxy Music backing him?); rather, in theme, it’s a mature record. Sure enough, while certain records that I purchased around this same time and really enjoyed no longer hold much relevance for me, Fear only gets better as I age. An essential album.

“Barracuda”

149 My Morning Jacket — It Still Moves (2003) CD
The folks who dig Z and hate on It Still Moves are, in my book, fools. This is one of my favorite albums of this decade, a rootsy, rocking affair with fabulous melody and intensity throughout. I understand why Jim James departed from this “sound” on his follow-up albums, but to me that was a career-defining mistake. He’s simply well suited to sing southern rock songs from the middle of a silo (that’s how he got all the reverb on his vocals on this album). I recall fondly the long, aimless drive out of town I took after work one night when I picked this album up. I threw it in the CD player, pushed play, and was compelled to keep driving until the album was over. Then I drove back home and, on the way, listened to it again.

“One Big Holiday”

148 Quiet Riot — Metal Health (1983) LP
I purchased this record a long time after it made its mark on me. When I was a kid, probably eight or nine, I was scared shitless by this album’s cover art. One of my friend’s older brothers had this on vinyl. He listened to a lot of metal and hard rock; I’m sure I was probably bothered by his Iron Maiden records, too. But this album sticks out as the one that really creeped me out. I was scared of and intimidated by its owner, too, especially when he cranked the title track through his enormous stereo speakers. I actually do like this album now, but back then, man, no way. SATAN!

“Breathless”

147 Stereolab — “Ping Pong” single (1994) 7″
This lovely slab of upbeat, mellotron-driven pop was my introduction to the space-age sounds and Kraut-rock stylings of Stereolab. I fell in love with Laetitia Sadier’s voice instantly. The sticker on the single says I bought this from Reckless Records, where I know I purchased a lot of seven inches back in the day.

“Ping Pong”

146 PJ Harvey — 4-Track Demos (1993) cassette
I preferred the rawness of 4-Track Demos to its still raw predecessor, the Albini-produced Rid of Me. I listened to “Driving” over and over and over again. And the cover art was so fucking hot.

“Driving”

145 Dead Boys — Young, Loud, and Snotty (1977) LP
I was already well-versed in The Sex Pistols by the time I picked up this punk gem, so the fact that I made an instant connection between Stiv Bators of the Dead Boys and Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols is no surprise. They were both over the top in a similar way. But this record blew me away more than the Pistols, and I think that’s largely due to the fact that I was more knowledgeable about punk when I got into the Dead Boys. That seems sort of counter-intuitive, as most people were blown away by punk because they had never heard anything like it before. But I fell in love with the Dead Boys because they sounded better than what I had heard before. Their punk was fucking tougher — see: “Sonic Reducer” — and more romantic — see: the anthem “All This and More” — and more rooted in the Iggy/Detroit sound that I was head over heels in love with — see: “Not Anymore” — and less political and more raunchy fun — see: “I Need Lunch.” Plus Cheetah Chrome was a killer guitarist!

“All This and More”

144 XTC — White Music (1978) cassette
The first time Jon played White Music for me a sort of cosmic shift happened in my skull where all these disparate parts realigned into a whole. Things starting making sense. There were other white bands prior to the Red Hot Chili Peppers who were funky and crazy and spastic. “I’ll Set Myself on Fire” was my anthem for the next few months. This is still one of my favorite records of the early New Wave era. I understand why people love Andy Partridge’s later XTC work, but it’s largely a fucking bore compared to this whacked-out shit.

“I’ll Set Myself on Fire”

143 Marty Robbins — Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs (1959) LP
This will not be the last album that makes this list largely due to its correlation to a girl. In this particular case, said girlfriend introduced me to Robbins and I associate him with the dissolving of our relationship. As such, “They’re Hanging Me Tonight” is a fitting (and fabulous) song. Then there’s “El Paso,” which you’ve probably heard before.

“They’re Hanging Me Tonight”

142 Led Zeppelin — Led Zeppelin I (1969) LP
When I was a freshman in high school I inherited my older brothers’ record collections. My eldest brother provided me with my classic rock soundtrack via his 1970s albums. As much of a cliché as it is, this record was the cornerstone of my early awareness of hard rock.

“Communication Breakdown”

141 Drive Like Jehu — Yank Crime (1994) cassette
Just a few years later, I would find a whole new avenue of hard rock to explore. This record still floors me to this day. The opening drum beat to “Luau” will probably forever be floating around in my head. Just an imaginative noise-rock album that you can totally head bang to.

“Luau”

140 Sam Cooke — Night Beat (1963) CD
This list is too white, eh? Cooke’s Night Beat is one of his few releases that actually feels like a studio album. It’s also just splendid. I’d like to take his rendition of “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” with me to my grave, please. Another record that I wouldn’t have stumbled across as soon as I did without a good tip from Jon.

“Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen”

139 The Rolling Stones — Through the Past, Darkly (1969) LP
I also inherited this from my big brother and it served as my formal introduction to the Stones. Of course, I had heard them on the radio, but that meant I had heard more “Start Me Up” than “Paint It Black,” and, let’s be honest, the latter slays the former. I’m glad my more in-depth introduction to Jagger and Co. came via the group’s 1966-68 period, when the band was really coming into its own.

“Mother’s Little Helper”

138 Tindersticks — Tindersticks II (1995) LP
I bought this on double-LP from Record Swap and instantly fell in love with the rustic songwriting, the melodramatic, haunting mood, and Stuart Staples’ deep voice. This record will always be linked in my head to my first serious girlfriend, who also loved this album. The reason this record, which I don’t really listen to anymore, made such an impact on me is that it was so different from the indie rock I was devouring at the time. I had yet to really discover Leonard Cohen or Serge Gainsbourg or Lee Hazlewood or Scott Walker, so Tindersticks just blew my mind.

“A Night In”

137 The Clash — Give ’em Enough Rope (1978) LP
My inheritance from the younger of my older brothers guided me toward New Wave and, to a lesser degree, punk. No one ever talks about this record when they discuss The Clash, but it was what I was given to work with and it served as an ample meet-and-greet. If you can imagine a 15-year-old me jumping up and down on his bed while “Tommy Gun” and “Safe European Home” blared from the speakers, then you can imagine the hell my mom gave me on a regular basis.

“Tommy Gun”

136 V/A — Singles soundtrack (1992) cassette
When Singles came out, I, like most people infatuated with grunge music, fell head over heals for the soundtrack. I was probably a bit too young to really “get” the movie — I don’t think I appreciated Campbell Scott’s mid-life-crisis character the way I do now — but I sure got the songs. There’s a lot of good stuff on here, but I always came back to Paul Westerberg’s cheeseball songs “Waiting for Somebody” and “Dyslexic Heart.”

“Waiting for Somebody”

135 The Walkmen — Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone (2002) CD
Thanks to my prior love of Jonathan Fire Eater, it’s no big surprise that I fell for The Walkmen. At first, I didn’t like Hamilton Leithauser’s throaty vocals, but they grew on me after repeated listens to their debut EP. By the time this came out, I was hooked. Something about the loose rhythm section and the trippy piano always gets me going.

“Wake Up”

134 Sly & the Family Stone — Greatest Hits (1970) LP
Greatest hits records are so easy to fall in love with, because often times they channel out all the excess crap. Whatever. My virginity was vanquished one fine summer day while listening to Sly, and for that reason alone he would make my list. Of course, his songs are also tremendous and, come to think of it, some damn good music to lose one’s virginity to.

“Stand!”

133 John Lennon — John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (1970) LP
Admittedly, I came to appreciate Lennon’s solo work much later in life. I only first heard this record in its entirety about five years ago. Growing up, I of course collected Beatles records. However, I think I wanted to like them less than I did because I felt that maybe they were too hyped, too popular, too common. So I probably resisted Lennon’s solo work for much the same reason. Man, I was an idiot. When I finally dove in with this album, I was shocked silly by what I had been missing. The drums/piano combo on “Mother” makes me melt into a puddle of mush every time.

“Mother”

132 Small Factory — “So What About Love” single (1993) 7″
Pop Narcotic released this 45, an acoustic rocker that I listened to about 700 times in a row when I was a freshman in college. Best indie-pop drummer’s name EVER: Phoebe Summersquash! I wish I would have seen them live.

“So What About Love”

131 Milli Vanilli — “Girl You Know It’s True” single (1989) cassingle
I was in love with this Milli Vanilli song. I even saw Rob & Fab in concert. This was that weird time when the cassingle was briefly in fashion, and I had a few. (I recall some Aerosmith and Motley Crue, Phil Collins, and I think Go West’s “King of Wishful Thinking.”) Anyway, I wore this cassette out so quickly that I replaced it within a few weeks with the entire album (on cassette). It’s odd to think back on this time and consider that in my musical universe Milli Vanilli and Motley Crue got along. Hmmm.

“Girl You Know It’s True”

130 Everything But the Girl — Amplified Heart (1994) CD
While we’re on the subject of slightly embarrassing records that I once listened to, I give you Everything But the Girl. This was right before they got all clubby and charted with their single, “Wrong.” I spent one brief summer during college living off campus and for that time period I felt, well, grown up. So I listened to grown up music. And it doesn’t get much more grown up (in a sappy, sentimental way) than Amplified Heart. (Oddly enough, now that I am grown up, I don’t listen to this album.) This moody little sucker largely described how I felt about my relationship with my longterm girlfriend at the time, and I think that’s why it was stuck in the CD player for an entire summer.

“We Walk the Same Line”

129 Aphex Twin — Selected Ambient Works Vol. II (1994) CD
Dustin and I listened to a lot of Aphex Twin. Word on the street was that Richard D. James had recorded his brain patterns while he slept and then attempted to recreate those patterns through music. Regardless of whether that is actually true, this is some of the oddest, at times off-putting music I have ever heard. I was instantly drawn to it.

“Cliffs”

128 LL Cool J — Mama Said Knock You Out (1990) cassette
I liked his previous record, Walking with a Panther, which had a slew of hits on it. But this record stayed glued to my Walkman for much of my freshman year of high school. In some ways, it seems odd to think that I went from listening to this to jamming out to the Chili Peppers. Or, maybe it doesn’t. Anyway, “Around the Way Girl” is a great song. Admit it.

“Around the Way Girl”

127 T. Rex — Electric Warrior (1971) CD
When I finally discovered T. Rex about eight years ago, it was like discovering I had a separated-at-birth twin. Marc Bolan just fits into my musical universe with such ease and in such a complimentary fashion to my personality. I can’t believe I went through a significant portion of my life having never heard him. One of my absolutely essential records.

“Life’s a Gas”

126 Can — Monster Movie (1969) CD
“Yoo Doo Right” is one of the most criminally-overlooked masterpieces of the psychedelic era. Not only is it the perfect song (at 20 minutes long) to play when you need to exit the DJ booth to get a beer and say hello to some friends, but it has got such an addictive interlocking drum/bass rhythm that no one in attendance will even complain about its length. And I love that Malcom Mooney sounds like a wounded animal. This song shifted my interest in Krautrock from mild to unflappable.

“Yoo Doo Right”

Coming up next, Nos. 125–101.

9 comments

So long, 2008

January 5, 2009, 2:08 pm
Filed under: cold blooded old times, mp3s, music | Tags: Rodan

See ya later. You stunk.

Well, not entirely. There was that one incredibly healthy note struck in July when M said, “Yes.”

But as far as my professional life goes, you were a craptastic year. And as for my health, 2008 pulled me forcefully into “middle age.”

Maybe it’s no surprise that I’ve been listening to a lot of pensive music as of late. It compliments my mood. While at Amoeba Records, I picked up a copy of Rodan’s Rusty on CD for $3. I don’t recall when I got rid of my copy — maybe several years ago? — but when I saw it sitting on the shelf I was immediately stricken by the desire to listen to “Shiner.” It sounds dated, but in a way that reminds me of my angry youth. Of headbanging to Lifetime. Of stomping around while listening to Shellac and Yona Kit. Of the first time I listened to Bleach.

And that’s a good thing.

Rodan – “Shiner”

In case you’re wondering, the whole record still sounds good as well, especially “The Everyday World of Bodies.” Maybe some day I’ll feel like breaking out June of 44 again.

1 comment

Somebody painted over paint

November 2, 2008, 3:32 pm
Filed under: cold blooded old times, music | Tags: Pavement

When was the last time you listened to these boys?

And am I crazy for thinking Pavement is in my Top 5 favorite bands of all time? I mean, does Stephen Malkmus in his prime hold a candle to Ray Davies? I think so. Certainly, both had a flair for the outrageous and were not shy about expressing it.

One of my favorite lyrical passages, in part because of the way Malkmus sings it:

“Ex-magician, still knows the tricks

Tricks are everything to me until it’s free.

Ive got a trigger cut

And I cant pull it back

But if I learn how I’ll be coming back today.”

I remember the first time I heard this song on a cassette deck at Josh’s house. I thought it was the weirdest thing I’d ever heard, and I loved it. (A few minutes later we made it to “No Life Singed Her” and I really flipped my wig.)

2 comments

The Noiseboy Online

Recent Posts

Archives

Pages

Categories