photo by Eric Gonzalez
A curmudgeon at heart, I groan at the thought of making a personal list of my top 10 albums of all time. It’s not necessarily that all lists are bad. In fact, I have several that I keep mental track of as they evolve over time. Most recently, I added raclette to my “Top 5 Stinky Cheeses” after a delightful dinner prepared by a French friend, and last weekend, I realized that not laughing at my roommate’s Star Wars jokes is pushing for a spot in my “Top 3 Ways to Express Myself.”
Ah, but when it comes to music lists, I tend to balk. Out of the roughly hundred trillion music opinions on Earth, mine is not and should not be considered significant. Furthermore, one brisk walk through Recycled Sounds is enough to depress me into the sad realization that I will probably never get the chance to listen to even one half of 1 percent of all records ever recorded. In that sense, there is no way this list is even remotely educated, and I imagine that you, the reader, must suspect this about any of these types of lists.
So I suppose the point of these columns must be to offer an avenue of travel that allows a passing glimpse into the brain and heart of a local guy who gets on stage and plucks strings and puts a lot of thought and passion into the music that he helps create. I do relate to that type of curiosity, so I will attempt to appease. But please, under no circumstances do I want to find any of you considering my opinion on these matters with any more gravity or relevance than the opinions you keep yourself. You know what’s good.
My final disclaimer is that I am in a hurry and on a tight deadline and haven’t had anything to eat, so what you get here is probably more like a “10 albums so rad they’re on the top of my mind right now” list instead of a genuine Top 10 of All Time list. But I believe I have already reconciled this point with my earlier lamentations about the nature of music lists.
Without further ado, and in no particular order:
Beware by Bonnie “Prince” Billy
I’m going to start by saying a couple of these albums might be earning their spot based on the strength of one song that is surrounded by a complete and totally listenable collection of other songs. This album is one of them.
Will Oldham has a damn way with words that one could only be blessedly born with. The song “You Don’t Love Me” inspires in me a sense of elated, apathetic depression that is exactly what I’m looking for in an intimate relationship with some yet-to-be-found unlucky and bored woman. The entire album is great for either singing or clapping along to, and it was the only CD I could get to play in the jank player of my mom’s Chevy Blazer while I was borrowing it for a few months last year.
Five stars.
Downward is Heavenward by Hum
This album is so ridiculously solid all the way through that I don’t even really want to talk about it. I just want you to listen to it so I can watch the agreement wash over your face. The engineering of the sounds on this album should be envied by all recording musicians.
Consider this imaginary situation: You are nervously at the helm of a rocketship as it soars through a dense, cloudy atmosphere. All you can see is a grey fog all around you and everything feels very still and eerie even though you are traveling thousands of miles per hour. And then, very suddenly and with an explosive feeling, the ship bursts out of the clouds and you are instantly surrounded by the most colorful, warm, beautiful, powerful scene that you can imagine.
A world of complete, electric, blow-your-hair-back tranquility spreads out around you. Your perspective on all things becomes clear. Your senses are 100 times amplified. In that one moment, your mind and body are experiencing a dozen different orgasmic sensations, and if you can summon any vocalization at all, it’s a gasp that ends all gasps.
Well, Hum’s heavy guitar tones are like a perpetual repetition of your feelings during that split-second of coming out of the clouds. No wonder they’re used for Cadillac commercials these days.
Five stars.
All Hail West Texas by The Mountain Goats
On the opposite end of production value from Downward is Heavenward is this album. Its unabashed low-fidelity assists the listener in properly placing credence where credence is due with John Darnielle. The man is, or at least was at the time of this release, a striking lyricist first and musician second.
That is not to say that the structure, progressions, strumming patterns and thoughtfulness of his guitar playing is not without its own genius. It’s just that the stories that his lyrics tell are clearly what sets him apart from other singer/songwriter types. Many of his albums seem to do a really good job of describing what it means to be a young human combating with the range of feelings, hormones, dumb habits and cultural idiosyncrasies that are prevalent in this time and hemisphere. All Hail West Texas particularly encompasses that trait.
If you’re late generation X or early generation Y, I think there is a good chance that you’re going to find something profound to relate to on this record. For that reason alone, I consider it a historical work of music and poetry.
Five stars.
White Lunar by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis
