During our discussion about which albums should have been higher, lower, on there, not on there, JT commented that Never Mind the Bullocks was better than London Calling. I didn’t disagree simply ‘cos while I don’t overly care for Bullocks, I’m not a big enough admirer of London Calling to put up any resistance (even if it is obvious which one is the better album). JT then made the funny-because-it’s-true comment that the Clash are the Radiohead of the 70s. Take that Strummer and Yorke respectively! And from there he argued that if I thought about it, Minor Threat’s Complete Discography album is probably the most influential and important punk album for me (and him), and the one I’ve listened to the most out of any punk album out there. He’s probably right, but even that isn’t the point.
You see, what I was really thinking about during our exchange is that the Clash’s debut really is all that, I mean really it is – even if I did sorta give it a wanky once over in an earlier post. And if I had to scale down my CD collection (and maybe I should), and could only keep one album by each band, that would be the one I chose for the Clash. Hands down, no mistake, no second-guessing.
So the idea with this series is that I’m going through my collection alphabetically and of the artists I have all of, the bulk of or the key-important albums of, I’m going to pick one as my “desert island” or “scaled down for the economy” or “whatever” disc.
Oh, and so these posts aren’t overly long, I’m only doing five at a time (so you’re welcome, Greg).
Apparently I don’t have anything in the As that fits the criteria…hmmm…
The Bats – Fear of God (1991): The New Zealand jangle-pop darlings that you’ve probably never heard of, it’s somewhat true that in a lot of ways one album sounds about the same as another since Robert Scott and team never stray far from their shambling, plaintive and melancholic (though darn catchy) sound. And while most folks hold up their debut, Daddy’s Highway, as their masterpiece, I’ve never really been able to get into that album. I can remember seeing the cover for Fear of God in Camelot Music (or whatever it was by then) in the PC mall when I was in high school and feeling somewhat draw to it, even though I had no idea who or what it was all about. All these years later, now that I do know the who and the what, it’s the album that for me, for what they do (and do so well), is the most immediate, flowing and ultimately fulfilling.
The Beatles – A Hard Day’s Night (1964): I’m not even going to argue the merit, worth or overall impact of one Beatles’ album over another. I mean the fact that their hip “misspell” of the word beetle is recognized as legit by the spell checker in Microsoft Word pretty much solidifies their ultimate cultural influence. While I certainly see the worth in many parts of most every album (Magical Mystery Tour, you will always be a big, steamy pile), it’s impossible to pick one that easily identifies, sums up or defines the Beatles’ sound. So what it all boils down to is which album, if any, floats your boat the most. For me it is, has been and always will be A Hard Day’s Night. This is the album that made me seriously listen to the Beatles in the first place, the one that made me consider them as something more than an overrated, overhyped bag of wind, and capable of writing more than two songs that I thought were worth a glass onion. (Until around 1998 I only liked I Want to Hold Your Hand and We Can Work It Out.) But simply put, AHD’sN makes me happy. These songs make me want to dance across the room, to jump in the air, to shout out loud, to fall in love and get my heartbroken all at the same time. In short, AHD’sN reminds me that music can be good and serious but also a lot of fun – not only to listen to but also to make. I hear a lot of joy in this album, and that includes secret smiles behind the tears in heartache numbers like I’ll Cry Instead and Things We Said Today, not to mention the go-go pop anthems like the title track and Can’t Buy Me Love. Bill has pointed out that there are a few clunkers, and maybe he’s right, but by the end of the album you’re glad you took the time and you’ll likely take it again.
Belle & Sebastian – If You’re Feeling Sinister (1996): Sometimes the popular choice is the obvious choice…and who am I to buck the popular choice? While every B&S album has at least half a dozen songs of absolute genius, IYFS is the only one where from start to finish they consistently build one song on top of the other to create 40+ minutes of lo-fi, twee-pop confection (not to mention perfection). From the less than a whisper beginnings of Stars of Track and Field to the anthem-like sing-a-long of Judy and the Dream of Horses, there are no filler tracks, there are no lulls, there are no mindless rants about dreaming you went to Mars with your dad and your sister (geesh, I hate that song). B&S were never again so innocently quirky, so confident in their insecurity, so strong in their fragility. These are songs that speak to the heart from the heart, without posturing or preaching…and they all carry a nice tune as well.
David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972): This was actually a pretty tough choice for me. I almost said Low for all the Eno-obvious reasons, I almost said Lodger for the same reasons plus pop-tastic danceability and I almost said Diamond Dogs ‘cos that truly is a spook-tacular chill ride of dark, post-cabaret/pre-disco swoon. But in the end I had to go with, perhaps, another obvious choice. Why? Well, that’s rather difficult to define and sum up as well, ‘cos Bowie is an originator of the stylistic chameleon and over the years has dabbled in just about every type of music out there from folk to industrial. So, as with the Beatles, much of it falls to personal preference and maybe in this case current mood. And while I could just as easily have picked any of those other albums (like and yet unlike the aforementioned B&S entry), from beginning to end Ziggy Stardust builds upon itself, rockin’ and crooning its way through Bowie’s vision of earth’s last days. But concept originality aside, a lot of his most well known, accessible and notoriously great songs are tucked among a slew of lesser known cuts just as worthwhile.
Billy Bragg – Back to the Basics (1987): While Don’t Try This at Home is officially my favorite album, I felt compelled to land on Back to the Basics. This album is actually a collection of earlier material released between 1983 and 1985, so perhaps technically it shouldn’t qualify for this series. However, A) I did not specify that in the rules B) they’re my rules anyway and I’ll do as I please and C) it works quite fantastically as an album in its own right. (In fact, I didn’t even know it was a compilation of previously released material until I’d owned it for a few years.) But to me, this is the definitive B-Bragg sound, the pining of the wandering, electric troubadour. While Back to the Basics doesn’t run like a “greatest hits” as some albums do (many of his best songs didn’t come until later), a handful of these songs – and really you could grab them at random – represent everything Billy was about then as well as now. Religion, love, war, death and of course politics -- it’s all right here, neatly packaged in 21 two to four minute post punk anthems, with usually nothing more than Billy’s voice, guitar and message, but just as raw, visceral and powerful as any full band explosion you’d ever wish to hear.