Ganked from The Vault of Buncheness:
Think of 15 albums that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life or the way you looked at it. They sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years. These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people, emotions. They might not be what you listen to now, but these are the albums that no matter what they were thought of musically shaped your world.When you finish, tag 15 others, including me. Make sure you copy and paste this part so they know the drill. Get the idea now? Good. Tag, you're it!
Because can't think of only 15 albums, I've expanded that list to 20 and some change. In more-or-less chronological order, based on their impact on my life, these would be...
1. Cheap Thrills (1968) - Big Brother and the Holding Company
In a childhood filled with music (most of it either '50s doo-wop or '60s psychedelic), this album stands out for me as being the first "record album" I could recognize as such - mostly because it scared the hell out of me! Besides the throat-shredding antics of Janis Joplin, the album lodged in my memory for its Robert Crumb cover; the off-kilter nature of its brilliance literally made little-kid me sick to my stomach when I looked at it. I didn't understand the music at all (that came later), but in the late '60s, I would dart a glance at this album in creeped-out fascination, feel my tummy do back-flips, and look away again. To this day, Cheap Thrills remains the only album on this list that I do not own.
2. Alive II (1977) - Kiss
How did I miss the ascension of Kiss? When I hit 7th grade in 1977, half the kids at my Catholic school already adored the band, while the other half detested everything they stood for. Little horror freak that I was, I latched like a lamprey onto a band that sported blood-spitting, fire-breathing masked demonic personages; the fact that their music tapped into my inner demon provided an extra treat.
The flaming gatefold of the album and the thundering explosions dubbed into its background gave me expectations of hellish grandeur that few Rock concerts (including those by Kiss) ever quite lived up to. My friend Mike would put on Alive II when his mom was at work, and we'd air-guitar ourselves sick. Once, we even grabbed hair-spray cans and lighters, then ran around the house shooting fireballs at one another! Luckily, we didn't burn the house down or anything... Sure, I renounced Kiss by the time I hit high school, but during my 7th and 8th grade years, Kiss were my heroes.
3. In the Court of the Crimson King (1969) - King Crimson
I've always been a moody guy, but my fascination with gloomy romanticism probably dates to this album... this first record, incidentally, that I had sex to! Like many of my early musical adventures, this one was introduced to me by my father, whose appreciation for weird Rock shit gave me a cornerstone for my tastes even now. A morbid slice of prog, Court is a phenomenal musical statement wrapped in some of the dreariest lyrics imaginable. When I descended into adolescent angst, this album received heavy rotation indeed.
4. Songs From the Wood (1977)/ M.U. -The Best of Jethro Tull (1976) - Jethro Tull
My family used to take endless car-trips between New York and Virgina during the 1970s. On those trips, Dad would play various tapes. Somehow, these strange little albums by a weird Brit standing on one leg captured my imagination. I knew nothing about the Celtic Rock genre until I hit college a few years later; from that point onward, my Pagan roots have been watered by the likes of Steeleye Span, Clannad, Fairport Convention and Oysterband. Tull, however, became a mainstay of my music collection during the late 1970s and ealy 1980s, counterbalancing the libidinnous ferocity of Punk and Metal with the sardonic sweetness of Ian Anderson's lunatic band.
5. We Sold Our Souls for Rock 'n Roll (1975) - Black Sabbath
In 1978, I transferred from the hell-on-earth Catholic school where I'd discovered Kiss to the less-dysfunctional "special needs" school Quander Road, where I spent 8th grade ('78-'79). By that time, my parents marriage had fractured, and that trauma - mixed with social anxieties, spiritual upheavals, lousy schooling in Hawaii, a case of dyslexia that I learned about over a decade later, an awful temper and typical 13/14-year-old bullshit - had me begging my parents to send me to Quander. There, I discovered a wealth of new bands: Pink Floyd, AC-DC, George Thoroughgood, Van Halen... and Black Sabbath.
One of the creepier kids in Quander was named Rob Lippard. A tall, gangly dude with long hair and Charles Manson eyes, he spoke in Satanic gibberish and toted Black Sabbath albums everywhere. I'd heard of Sabbath by then, but it wasn't until I overheard "Iron Man" that I cribbed to that evil Blues sound. Naturally, I loved it immediately... and time has proven Sabbath to be the most musically enduring Metal of all. Although Priest, Rush, Maiden and so on are still fun for me, Sabbath sounds better as I get older. I received this album for Christmas (!!!) in 1979 or '80, and it remains one of my all-time favorites.
6. Unleashed in the East (1979)/ Sad Wings of Destiny (1976) - Judas Priest
The band most responsible for my dispatch of Kiss came screaming out of a recording I had dubbed off the radio. I'd been taping ELP's "Peter Gunn Theme" off WRXL in '79 when the DJ segued into this kick-ass live ripper called "Green Manalishi." I was floored. At first, I assumed the song came from the same live ELP album that had birthed "Peter Gunn"; a few weeks later, I discovered the truth, and Unleashed in the East became one of the first albums I bought with my own money. Ironically, Kiss' Destroyer had been the first. The Metal pounding from the Priest, however, put Kiss to shame, and I abandoned my first Metal love in favor of the learner, meaner Priest.
As influential as Unleashed was, however, it paled in comparison to Sad Wings of Destiny. By the early '80s, I had purchased Priest's entire catalog; of them all, Sad Wings was my obsession. When I descended into my gloomiest states, the damned angel on that album cover became my mascot. Some folks would later claim that such fascination was an inducement to suicide, but like any metalhead who's found grace through catharsis, I maintain that albums like Sad Wings actually avert tragedy. For me, the musical depths I plumbed with albums like that one helped me trawl through the Abyss vicariously. Without bands like Priest, Sabbath and other cathartic artists, I suspect I would have become far more messed up than I ever truly was.
7. Hemispheres (1978) - Rush
While Priest and Sabbath purged my inner demons, Rush opened the door to my imagination. My musical horizons were blown wide open when I first heard "The Trees" on - again! - WRXL in the late '70s. The combination of dizzying complexity and ripe yet sincere lyrical obtusions like "Cygnus X-1 Book II: Hemispheres" and "Circumstances" made Rush my go-to brain-candy band. I spent endless hours scribbling up D&D notes and bad poetry to the sound of Rush's albums, and to date, Hemispheres remains my favorite.
8. Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables (1980) - The Dead Kennedys
I'd heard Punk before 1982, when my friend Wally put Fresh Fruit on his turntable, but I'd never heard anything like this. Jello Biafra raved like Dudley Do-Right gone mad as some of the meanest, bone-jarring shit of its era buzzsawed through my consciousness. The Kennedys remained one of my mainstays throughout college, and their social outrage mirrored my own. When Reagan's Revolution spawned my eternal hatred for all things Republican (except my dad...), this album became the soundtrack for my dissent.
9. Big Science (1982) - Laurie Anderson
On my first day at college orientation, I met a cute girl named Chris. we hung out, and she took me back to her dorm room. I wondered if I was gonna get lucky; in a way, I did. Big Science (which she played for me that day) challenged my preconceptions about music in all the best ways. The first truly avant-garde album I'd heard at the time, it snagged the most eager-to-be-opened parts of my attention. Anderson's hypnotic witticisms entranced me; without Big Science, I doubt I'd have been nearly as receptive to Frank Zappa, Phillip Glass, Godspeed You! Black Emperor and some of the more arcane corners of my musical tastes.
10. Nothing to Fear (1982) - Oingo Boingo
I hated "New Wave" when it first came out. A Metal kid to the bone, I detested the faggy condescending twats who adored the stuff while looking down their pimply noses at the Rock I adored. One of the primary offenders raved endlessly about a band called "Oingo Boingo," a name I immediately despised, until... It was early 1984, and I was hanging out with some friends and this compulsively bouncy music cascaded out of the speakers. I began hopping around the room to it. "Who IS that?" I demanded; "Oingo Boingo," my friend replied. From then on, Danny Elfman's weird little experiment became - and remains - one of my all-time favorite bands. I even got to enjoy New Wave a bit more after that.
11. Fresh Aire I & II (1975) - Mannheim Steamroller
Yep - I like New Age Music. Blame that quirk of taste to thess little centerpiecea of Mannheim Steamroller's career. Almost unknown when they first appeared, Steamroller went on to become the synth-ditty gods of Christmastime via a series of cheesy holidays albums. Back in the late '70s and early '80s, however, they made far more tasteful excursions into instrumental mellowness. I was turned on to the Fresh Aire series around 1984, and it instantly appealed to the quieter side of my nature. I used Fresh Aire I and II as soundtracks during my art-school modeling career, and whenever I needed to relax or sleep, I used to put on a Steamroller mix-tape culled from the first two Fresh Aire albums. By extension, both albums blend seamlessly into one another, and so to me they're essentially the same album, continued. By the mid-80s, Mannheim Steamroller had become too cheesy for me and I abandoned the band. Still, I enjoy those first two Fresh Aire albums, and as much as I groove on dark mad thunder, there are times to just slow down and chill.
12. A System of Grooves (1983) - The Good Guys
A pack of Ska-Rockers from Richmond, VA, The Good Guys became one of my favorite bands during my stay in that city. Having had my consciousness expanded in Ska's direction by The Police and The Specials, I was utterly blown away by the mellow yet insistent groove thrown down by the Gore Brothers Chris and Harry. One of the nicest dudes I've ever met, Harry Gore was a guitarist of impressive virtuosity. I caught The Good Guys at over a dozen shows between 1983 and 1990 (around the time they disbanded), and I rarely felt disappointed.
Sadly, the Gores themselves were discourgaged by the refusal of the recording industry to take a black band seriously as Rock artists. Despite help from Fishbone and Living Color and an appearance on Vernon Reid's Black Rock Coalition album The History of Our Future, The Good Guys never scored a decent album deal. A System of Grooves was a locally produced EP - one that is, as far as I know, the only non-single album The Good Guys ever produced. It's a criminal shame, really.
13. Eat the Carrot, Break the Stick (1986) - The Ululating Mummies
Another locally produced album that never made it to CD, Eat the Carrot was a tape released by these quirky Richmond anarchists. Weaving Middle Eastern, Eastern European, Hippie Trance, Reggae and other slippery grooves into sprawling marathon jams, the Mummies really didn't translate well to the recording studio. Eat the Carrot only barely tapped into their mystique. Still, the album retains a fond spot in my heart, and my love for the Mummies - whom I saw live at every opportunity - led to my tastes for World Fusion, ecstatic dance, and weirdly amusing pagentry.
14. Indigo Girls (1989) - The Indigo Girls
My dad enjoyed '60s-era Folk, and I'd acquired a taste for artists like Simon & Garfunkel, America, Bread and Suzanne Vega as a flip-side to my darker impulses. When "Closer to Fine" hit the airwaves in '89 or '90, I picked up a copy of the Girls' second album - and was floored. Every track on the album cried out to me... hell, cried out for me. The album - combined with Psalm 69 by Ministry, Nevermind by Nirvana, Ten by Pearl Jam, Rid of Me by P.J. Harvey and the next three albums on this list - birthed my musical tastes for that decade. Although the Indigo Girls eventually wore out their welcome with me, their self-titled album raises chills on me every time.
15. Little Earthquakes (1992) Tori Amos
Ever heard one of those albums that sounds like the the worst night of your life? That was how Little Earthquakes hit me when I heard it back in '92 or '93. By then, my marriage, my life and my job were grinding my spirit away. A sense of responsibility that went way beyond anything I was getting in return had gripped me with an almost biblical tempest of guilty anguish. When I first heard "Crucify," I thought it was a new Kate Bush song; when I heard the rest of the album, I thought it was a soundtrack for my life. "Silent all These Years," "Winter," "Precious Things," "China" - I felt like weeping whenever I listened to that album... and occasionally, I did.
16. A Passage in Time (1991) - Dead Can Dance
Somehow, I originally got Dead Can Dance confused with Was, Not Was. This bizarre confluence may be traced to an alternative music magazine I grabbed out of a recycling bin around 1990, with articles featuring both bands. I never really cared for Was, Not Was, so when my bandmate George Midea asked me if I'd heard Dead Can Dance in 1992, I dismissed them as "too pop for my tastes." George, puzzled, recorded a few tracks from DCD on a mix-tape for me. My resulting astonishment led me to buy A Passage in Time just as I headed off to work at White Wolf in '93. To this day, that album remains a heavy-rotation staple of my collection. The shimmering darkness and transcendent beauty of that mad tapestry set the tone for my tastes from then on. My later fondness for World Trance, Gothic Ethereal and World Beat Techno can all be traced to the CD of Passage that I literally lasered clean during endless days and nights writing with White Wolf... and beyond.
17. A Slight Case of Overbombing (1992) - The Sisters of Mercy
Both credit and blame for my obsession with Goth-Industrial Rock can be laid at the feet of my '90s employers at White Wolf Game Studio. The "gothic punk" atmosphere of the World of Darkness where I plied my trade throughout that decade suited my musical inclinations perfectly, and although I'd already owned albums like The Sky's Gone Out from Bauhaus, Phantasmagoria from The Damned, Bloodletting from Concrete Blonde and Blast the Human Flower from Danielle Dax, no album captures the heady nature of that era like this best-of from The Sisters of Mercy. Everything rich and strange about Gothic Rock booms its way through Overbombing. Just as Sad Wings and Hemispheres became the soundtrack for my adolescence, Overbombing provided endless hours of pleasure and pain during my 1990s.
18. Play (1999) - Moby
Until Play came out, my feelings about Techno were lukewarm at best. Even albums like Delerium's Karma or Die Form's Suspiria de Profundis seemed too... sterile for my tastes. When I heard Play in the wake of my departure from White Wolf (and the Goth-Industrial thunder that went with that part of my life), this album was a revelation. Here was Techno merged with spirituality, a swirling synthesis of dance-floor beats, Gospel vocals and Classical flourishes that spoke to my soul in ways few other albums have. Yeah, the album eventually became an over-exposed relic of its time, but to this day whenever I need some achingly eloquent redemption, I often reach for Play.
19. The Incredible Soul Collection (2003) various artists
I've always enjoyed Motown and '60s-'70s Soul. With a few exceptions, however (like Sade's Promise or Maryin Gaye's landmark What's Goin' On), I've always considered Soul to be a singles-based genre, not an album-based one. Aside from a few best-ofs and the aforementioned album from Sade, I hadn't bought a Soul album until I ran across this collection while working the BNN music department. What a revelation that was! Every single song on this collection is a legend, and although I'd enjoyed many of those songs before, I reconsidered my earlier opinion and dove into Soul with a vengeance after I acquired this Collection. Whenever I need an old school pick-me-up, this album satisfies me every time!
20. Songs from the Gutter (2002) - Thea Gilmore
This was the album that saved my faith in Rock. A few years back, I'd totally had it with the Xeroxed corporate trash that passed for "rock" in the new millennium. I was listening almost exclusively to World Fusion artists and my old favorite albums when this raspy-throated chick ripped some Neil Young barbed wire off the nearest tree and used it to hang Rock by its scrawny little neck. Somehow, this gem found its way into Barnes and Noble's "in-store play" collection, and I was enthralled. The two-disc US re-released of Gutter came out shortly after I'd moved to Asheville, NC, and Gilmore's snarled challenge "When did You Get so Safe?" gave my soul a serious wake-up call. I love every song on this double album, and when I despair that Rock has given out its final gasp, I remember these Songs From the Gutter and realize that the hoary old beast still has a few surprises left.
And as an "honorable mention" entry, I'd add...
Haphazard (2004) - S.J. Tucker
I met Sooj by a combination of happy accidents in mid-2004. She handed me a sample single at FaerieWorlds, and my friend Jaymi later burned me a copy of the full album for my trip back home. I couldn't get the damned thing out of my CD player - or my head - after that. Although Sooj has gone on to release better albums since then (Sirens and Blessings, IMHO), Haphazard will always be the album that introduced me to one of my favorite people as one of my favorite musical artists... and, of course, anyone who follows this journal knows how that friendship has changed my life in other ways, too... :)
So - what are some of your life-landmark albums? The floor is open...
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