“That song changed my life.” Everyone has said it, but how often are we literal about it? Here are 15 albums that literally changed my life.
1. “1984″ by Van Halen
In 1978, my elementary school music teacher offered to teach us an instrument. I immediately signed up for trumpet. At home, I told my mother, “I’m going to play the trumpet!”
“Trumpet?” she said. “No, no. You’ll play the drums like your uncle and cousins.” And that was that.
For 6 years I was trained to play classical snare. Then my friend Tim put Van Halen’s “1984,” into the boom box while we were shooting his brother’s BB gun, and I was riveted. Sure, I’d heard rock before, but the urgency of that music, the unapologetic, crunchy guitar, huge drums and David Lee Roth’s screaming shook my ribcage.
Weeks later I bought a drum set with my paper route money, replaced “Stick Control” by George Lawrence with “The Realistic Rock Drum Method” by Carmine Appice and never looked back. “1984″ is why music is the love of my life. It’s the greatest rock album of all time.
2. “Disintegration” by The Cure
Still high on “1984,” I bought every album Van Halen had (and would) put out. As a result, I became your typical classic rock fan. Denim jacket, patches on the sleeves, drum sticks in my back pocket and all of 88lbs soaking wet. I was a vision of crusty glory.
Then I moved to Boston.
The best thing about leaving home at 18 is the culture shock. Suddenly I was living with perfect strangers whose life experiences were completely unlike my own.
Take John for example. I grew up in Scranton, Pa., and John was from California. I arrived at my Berklee dorm with Van Halen, Rush and Ozzy CDs. John had Nine Inch Nails, Nitzer Ebb and Depeche Mode in his player. My higher education had begun.
Right away, he gave me a copy of “Disintegration.” Robert Smith’s voice and songwriting style was, again, completely new. Songs like “Untitled” stayed with me all day after only a single listen. I learned that songs needn’t be structured like “Verse/Chorus/Verse/Chorus/Bridge/Chorus/Coda” to make sense. In fact, I became bored with that arrangement.
I also associate “Disintegration” with the freedom of being on my own for the first time. I can’t listen to “Plainsong” or “Pictures of You” without remembering a crowded, sunny Newbury Street or riding the Green Line. It’s beautiful music that reminds me of some of the best years of my life.
3. “Still Life (Talking)” by Pat Metheny
I had only been at Berklee for a week when someone asked me if I liked Pat Metheny. “Never heard of him,” I said.
“He’s playing at the Orpheum” he said. “Want to come?”
Who’d pass up a concert by an artist he had never heard of?
The tone on Pat’s guitar, a gorgeous Paul Reed Smith, was incredible. His was the tightest band I had ever heard, and they played odd time signatures and long, flowing arrangements expertly. I can still remember hearing “Last Train Home” for the first time. It was amazing.
I’ve purchased other Metheny albums, but “Still Life (Talking)” is still my favorite. Just an amazing album.
4. “Bring On The Night” by The Police
I’ve seen Sting seven times and The Police once (at Fenway!). As a drummer, I have tremendous admiration for Steward Copland. He’s a master of syncopation and odd time signatures.
Sting’s writing is so sophisticated (the bridge of “Russians” borrows from the standard “Autumn Leaves”), yet he shouts his lyrics aggressively. You can’t help but love that. Here’s the guy who can write a barn-burner like “Landlord” and a tender ode like “I Burn For You.”
But that’s only the half of it.
When he toured to support his first solo album, he brought jazz heavyweights like Branford Marsalis, Manu Katche and the late Kenny Krikland. Old Police hits were re-arranged to suit those incredible players. One of the best examples of this was “When The World Is Running Down You Make The Best Of What’s Still Around.”
Just after the 2nd chorus, Kenny takes a solo like nothing you’ve ever heard. Sting may have written that song, but Kenny owns it. Whenever I want to feel inspired, I listen to this track. Kenny single-handedly makes me want to be a better musician. Rest in peace, Kenny. You were the best.
Most of all, I remember listening to “I Burn For You” on my headphones while riding the Peter Pan bus to visit my girlfriend in Amherst in the dark. Such a lovely memory.
5. “Friendly Fascism” by Consolidated
The first time I heard music with an overt political message. Consolidated were extreme Left, and held Q&A sessions during their concerts as an opportunity for the attendees (I won’t say “fans” as some of those who asked questions clearly were not) to address the band’s politics. The best of these interactions made it onto Consolidated albums.
Listening to these interactions between fired-up fans and aggressive band members, debating politics in the middle of a rock show gave me the same kind of rush that one gets from witnessing a bloody street fight. Part voyeurism, part politics and part diggin’ the groove, Friendly Fascism elicits a strong reaction. This album changed the way I think about how people express and consume political information.
6. “Portishead” by Portishead
My introduction to trip-hop. “All Mine,” “Cowboys” and “Undenied” are absolutely infectious. Beth’s voice is the perfect accompaniment to drop beats, steady guitar and ethereal arrangements. I adore this album, and the memories it conjures: clove cigarettes, rain, darkness and gin. Lots of gin.
7. “I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning” by Bright Eyes
What can one say about Connor Obrest? He’s a prolific, singular talent. I’d call him our generation’s Dylan if it wouldn’t piss off Dylan fans.
Connor’s simple arrangements and vocal style is striking. Check out “Lua” and “First Day of my Life” for good examples of this.
When I listen to his music, I think of a dingy basement apartment that reeks of stale cigarettes and beer, unkempt house guests who’ve worn out there welcome and among all of that, a phenomenally talented and equally unpretentious kid with an acoustic guitar in the corner, seeing and experiencing all of it in a way that no one else even understands.
In a musical landscape that shuns the singer-songwriter, Connor is a shining gem. This is one of my top ten albums of all time.
8. “Time Out” by The Dave Brubeck Quartet
When I was in 7th grade, there was a kid who played saxophone in 8th grade. Now, my music teacher at the time was a wonderful man and a great teacher … but he knew nothing about jazz. Which is why he was thrown for a loop by this kid.
The kid sought private lessons outside of school, and returned for the spring concert to play “Take Five,” the tremendously famous 5/8 piece by Brubeck. No one else in the school could play the song, so he was accompanied by a cassette tape. What happened when he took the stage?
He blew us away. He totally nailed the head and the solo. Here was a kid, barely 13 years old, playing an odd time signature for a room full of people. It was my first exposure to jazz.
I went out and bought “Time Out” and listened to it so much, I wore the text off of the cassette. It’s still the most “fun” jazz album I own, partly because I got into it as a kid.
Years later, when I arrived at Berklee with a minimal understanding of jazz, I could hang onto “Time Out” as a reference point, and it really helped me through those years.
9. “The Inevitable” by Squirrel Nut Zippers
I mean, come on. What started out as an art performance piece became a college radio hit and then a commercial success. “The Inevitable” has fun baked right in. For a brief moment, swing was cool and “I’ve Found A New Baby” was on the radio. Such a killer album on many levels: Top notch playing, a bit of daring to even try to pull something like this off, tongue-in-cheek songwriting and risque lyrics (“All the boys are monsters/all the girls are whores/So when you lose the one you love/there’s always plenty more”) put “The Inevitable” in my list of top albums ever.
When I finally saw the Zippers a year ago, I was in heaven.
10. “The Wishing Chair” by 10,000 Maniacs
Another admission: I’d abandon my wife and kids for Natalie Merchant. She’s so fantastically talented, thoughtful and bold that one can’t help but fall for her hard.
The best example of everything I love about Natalie is “Scorpio Rising” (see above). From the opening chords to her voice, which easily cuts through drums and guitars, to the lyrics about fighting with a lover, it’s a perfect college rock song. As the years went on, Natalie matured as an artist and songwriter, and I’ve remained a fan, but I’ll always remember “The Wishing Chair” as my introduction to the Maniacs. Natalie was fearless and the band, still college kids themselves, played like they had something to prove. If my iPod pics a track from this album while in shuffle mode, I stop what I’m doing and listen.
11. “That Total Age” by Nitzer Ebb
My introduction to industrial music. It’s all electronic, angry and urgent. Who cares what the songs are about, it’s the listener’s response that matters. If “Join In The Chant” or “Murderous” don’t get your blood flowing, there’s something wrong with you.
12. “Porcelain” by Julia Fordham
What an amazing voice. What incredible vocal range and what heartbreaking lyrics. While “Genius” will always make me think of my friend Lou (he called it “Good banging music”), the rest of the album showcases a phenomenally talented singer. Go and listen to “Lock and Key.” You’re welcome.
13. “Pretty Hate Machine” by Nine Inch Nails
Trent Reznor has been the Don of Industrial music for years, and has produced better albums than Pretty Hate (The Fragile, anyone?), but I’ll always remember hearing “Head Like A Hole” in a Boston club for the first time. His music is pure emotion. If, 30 years from now, “Oldies” radio stations are playing Trent Reznor, I’ll be a happy man.
14. “Tears of Joy” by Tuck and Patti
Listen to any track on this album, and you’ll know why there’s nothing more to say.
15. “Buckcherry” by Buckcherry
This isn’t necessarily an album that changed my life like the others, but I’ve included it for a single reason: It’s saving rock and roll.
Look at today’s pop music landscape. It’s crap. It’s worse than crap. It’s pre-fab “product” meant to make someone in a suit a ton of dough. Not Buckcherry.
This is rock for rock’s sake. In the same way that Guns N Roses saved rock in the 80′s, Buckcherry doesn’t give a flying crap about you, their label or the slezebags who run the tour. They just want to play loud, guitar-driven rock about sex and drugs. And I love it.
You’d be surprised how much of Natalie Merchant’s music inspiration comes from her “non relationship” with her estranged mother. Her mom lives in near me and used to run a vintage consignment shop – I’d see her at the local flea markets every now then. She wasn’t a very pleasant person. I first discovered her on SNL for the debut of “In My Tribe”