Ten albums that influenced me
April 10, 2009
(originally posted to 52 Cards and MySpace)
They aren’t my top ten albums of all time (well, a few of them are on that list too), but these are the ten albums that affected my life the most. Two of the other three tens will be top ten lists as well, with the ten of spades being part of a five part story I’m working on. After a week of thought, here’s my list of albums that have influenced me the most.
1. Wang Chung Mosaic
One album had to be first, and this was it. It was 1986, and this is where I started pouring money into the music industry. It was a trip to a Kmart in South Fargo, and my friend Don was trying to help me get into popular music. Up to this point, my music listening was whatever my mom listened to, which involved AM country on KFGO, and KFGO’s Sunday “Polka Party”. I had jumped into music videos the night before, but not thanks to MTV. Rather, it was all thanks to NBC’s “Friday Night Videos” and WTBS’ “Night Tracks”. One of the songs I’d heard that really stuck in my head was “Let’s Go” by Wang Chung. I hadn’t heard any of the other songs on Mosaic (yes, I was still so new at this I’d missed “Everybody Have Fun Tonight”), but I made the decision to buy it anyway (along with A Different Light by the Bangles, but that was an after I’d found Wang Chung). It started me down an early life of pop albums, including tapes by Tiffany, Debbie Gibson, and Madonna. While I’ve not listened to Mosaic in about 20 years, one album had to be first. I did rip “Let’s Go” onto my computer from an 80s compilation, and I’m not ashamed. It’s a damn catchy song.
2. Kix Blow My Fuse
The music I was buying after Wang Chung was all over the place, but mostly in the pop vein. I had made a few exceptions (Whitesnake & Aerosmith), but Kix’s Blow My Fuse was the album that had the biggest impact on this stage of my musical journey, and at the time it was for a very strange reason. I remember bringing my boom-box into the living room by the computer, and listening to this cassette about three times in a row. Suddenly, I had an epiphany. If I liked every song on this album, why don’t I just buy albums like this? Thus, my journey into hair-metal had truly began. It seems silly to look back on that now and realize my decision was made from a fiscal standpoint. One too many pop albums with just a few good songs had already done their damage, and years later this attitude would be shared by plenty of Napster users. My journey into the world of hair-metal was on, but I had my limits. I wasn’t going to let myself get into any bands thought of as devil worshipers, like AC/DC…
3. AC/DC Back in Black
Oops. My friend Robby listened to a lot of AC/DC, and mostly Back in Black. I didn’t hear anything that had to do with Satan, or hell, or anything like that. Granted, I was still naive enough to not know what “Given the Dog a Bone” or “Let Me Put My Love Into You” was about. The only thing about AC/DC that stood out to me was just how damn much they rocked. I picked this album up for myself a few months later, and eventually I’d have all of their albums. Whenever I wanted to listen to AC/DC, it almost always came back to Back in Black. Eventually, I started listing this as my all-time favorite album, which I still do to this day. AC/DC had entered my psyche, but I was drawing the line. I wasn’t about to start listening to really heavy metal like Metallica.
4. Metallica Master of Puppets
Once again, I made myself a promise I couldn’t keep. My friend George was really into Metallica, and after I’d bought and not cared for the “One” cassette single, he suggested I give this one a try. I was afraid of going down this path musically, but after one listen it was way too late. Lyrically, Master of Puppets should have blown my fragile hair-rock mind, but what pulled me into this album wasn’t James Hetfield’s vocals, but the music. It was loud, fast, tight, and it demanded my attention. Soon, I was picking up old Metallica albums, and branching into dark corners that held Megadeth, Danzig, and others.
5. Warrant Ultraphobic
Nirvana and Pearl Jam aren’t on this list. I enjoyed Nirvana when they broke, and I almost wore out my copy of Pearl Jam’s Ten. I was a regular reader of Rip magazine, and they featured Nirvana and Pearl Jam alongside stories of Skid Row and Slaughter. In my isolated corner of South Dakota, I wasn’t aware a battle for the soul of rock n’ roll had already been fought and decided. When I arrived at college, it was all flannel and grunge. Hair metal was so last year or so. There were a few holdouts besides me, but not many. Slowly, they started either listening to the new sound, or just listening to the old stuff from the 80s. I couldn’t live with nostalgia rock; I needed new. I’ve always had an insatiable need to hear what a band/artist is going to do next, and once a band breaks up or retires, my interest seems to vanish with them. Some of the hair bands kept going while most faded away. In 1995, Warrant did something else. They made a grunge-ish album called Ultraphobic. Most Warrant fans from back in the day called it a sellout, or worse. Fans of the Seattle sound were not to be bothered with Warrant, and the album is now mostly forgotten. I thought it might be Warrant’s best album ever, and I still do. Was it a sellout? Maybe. Was it a band trying to survive and move with the times? Could be. Did this album deserve better? I think so, and I still enjoy it from time to time. In my mind there was no reason for 80s and 90s rock to not co-exist. It may be an oversimplification, but in my head rock was rock, sub-genres be damned. The other reason this album makes the list is that it was the beginning of the end. By next year, I was at a musical crossroads. The hair rock bands were all but gone, and the few left were doing nostalgia tours or releasing greatest hits collections. In 1996, this came to a head as I had two directions to go. I could either go heavier, and listen to bands like Slayer. Or, I could broaden my horizons, and start listening to a wider variety.
6. Sheryl Crow Sheryl Crow
I still remember the day like it was yesterday. I’d seen something in one of the trade magazines at work about a new Sheryl Crow song. I thought “All I Wanna Do” was catchy, but I’d listened to the college station’s copy of Tuesday Night Music Club and found it lacking. I kept seeing all this buzz about a song called “If It Makes You Happy”, but the hard rock station I worked at had nothing to do with Sheryl Crow. One afternoon I was home from work, and I flipped on VH1. A video was on of a woman I didn’t recognize. The song had snarl, sleazy guitars, and a delivery that straddled “go away” and “come here”. As I watched, I kept waiting for the end of the song so I could see who was singing. I was thinking about how sleazy and attractive the singer was, and my interest in the song was increasing the longer I listened. As soon as the chorus starated, I yelled out “Oh my God! That’s Sheryl Crow!”. I waited for the song to end, and then I walked to Media Play and bought the album. It became a regular staple of my musical diet, and at the end of the year, when it was time to name my top CD of the year, I was torn between Sheryl Crow and Slayer’s Undisputed Attitude. I did a split top ten, with one containing best-of albums and cover albums (of which Slayer’s album was), and a list without those types of albums. I had Sheryl on top of the second list, and I didn’t feel like I was giving up on metal. Rather, I felt like a whole new world was opening up that was just down the street from the hair metal house where I’d been staying. I still visit, but Sheryl Crow helped me keep moving all around the neighborhood. After all, it’s better to be a musical couch surfer, right?
7. Ani DiFranco Little Plastic Castle
Ani DiFranco was on the cover of Spin magazine in 1997, and thanks to somebody leaving it at the station, I read a fascinating article about a singer I’d never heard of, who wasn’t on a major or even minor label, who was doing things her own way and succeeding. My roommate’s sister was a big fan, and she encouraged me to check her stuff out. On a trip to Brookings in February of 1998, I saw her new album on the shelf, and I picked up a copy without ever having heard a song. It was unlike anything else I had ever bought, and it was just the album I wanted to hear. For the first decade of my music listening, I couldn’t get into most female singers. Something about them just didn’t sit right with me. Here was a female singer who rocked without rock music. She had passion and fire, and she was doing everything on her own terms. How could anyone not admire her? It was only a matter of time before I had every one of her albums. While Out of Range is my favorite Ani album, I would never have heard it without Little Plastic Castle.
8. Spooncat The American Jiggler
Similarly to Ani DiFranco, that same roommate’s sister thought I’d enjoy this local band from Sioux Falls. I remember hearing them and not knowing what to think. Two keyboards? A horn section? What were they? After seeing them live countless times, I still don’t know how to describe them as anything other than the most fun band I’ve ever seen, and possibly one of the most talented bands I’ve ever seen. They can cover most anything, and sometimes without any rehearsal. Their original stuff ranges from fun, to food for thought. When they’re on and having fun, I’ve never seen a band have more fun being a band. I’ve seen them more times than I can count, and while their albums never quite capture their live energy, they hold up well on their own. This is the album that came out around the time they hooked me, so even though the final mix is missing the bass (something the band is working on for a future re-release or download) I’ll give it the number eight spot.
9. Sarah Harmer You Were Here
Sheryl Crow’s album was the first album that wasn’t hard rock or metal to get my album of year nod. Then, Ani DiFranco started me down a path that was littered with singer-songwriters. When I went to an Ani concert, the opening band was Sarah’s old group Weeping Tile. After wearing out the EP I picked up at the show, I found out the band had broken up, but the lead singer was releasing a solo album. In 2000, Sarah Harmer released this gem, and for months I couldn’t stop listening to it. Sarah had taken a break-up and crafted what might be the most heartfelt album ever inspired from a broken heart. Every song hits on a different emotion. Every song is a keeper. I’ve actually sat and tried to think of a flaw this album has, and I can’t think of one. While Sheryl Crow and Ani DiFranco had started pushing me into more singer-songwriter territory, this CD was the last shove I needed to start really enjoying mellow music without thinking I was getting old and mellowing out. Mellowing out was a small price to pay for such a good album. The only downside of this album is that everything I’ve heard from Ms. Harmer since hasn’t been as good. Methinks she set the bar way too high.
10. MC Lars The Graduate
Working CHR/Top-40 radio has some occupational hazards. One of them involves starting to like the music you play, and some of the genres you play. I thought it was a universal truth that as people got older, they clung to their familiar music more, and shunned what was popular and new. I had never been a huge fan of rap music, but I’d dabbled a bit. Most people my age like rap less as they get older (especially if they didn’t care for it much to start with), but this is yet another thing my brain somehow goofed up. Either of Ludacris’ first two albums could be in this spot as well, but I’ll give the nod to MC Lars because he was the first rapper I’d heard rap about stuff I was interested in. How had I missed the slow rise of nerdcore rap up until this point? The Graduate prove itself a gateway drug for MC Frontalot and Optimus Rhyme. but it had another effect. Soon, I was buying Jay-Z albums as well, and I was listening to more rap albums the station got in. So, thank you MC Lars, for allowing me to enjoy rap more as I get older. It might be backwards, but I’m not complaining.
