Eleven Albums from the Past 30 Years

A little over three years ago I wrote a number of blogs about albums I can’t live without – my desert island picks, if you will – and I ended up with 58 albums. Since then I’ve listened to a whole lot of music, including new discoveries and some older releases that I’d overlooked the first go around, and I thought I’d summarize my favorites in my next few blogs.

Incidentally, while I’ve written several times about the merits of physical music mediums – most recently in January of this year – I haven’t captured the case quite as eloquently as David Holmes in this month’s issue of Esquire. Check it out.

So here goes – in reverse chronological order – a bunch of albums that I’ve listened to over the past three years. And to Holmes’s point, I actually remembered these albums rather than relying on Spotify to tell me my play history.

Sammy Rae – Let’s Throw a Party (2021).  This is only an EP, so if I’m allowed to bend the rules, I’d couple this release with 2018’s The Good Life – also an EP – for one full-length album. My wife and I got to see Sammy Rae in November (and all of my children are seeing her in their respective cities – she’s managed to attract the attention of my 19-year-old all the way up to my 53-year-old self) and she is easily among the top five performers I’ve ever seen. If you have a chance to see her, do it, even if you don’t think her albums are the bee’s knees, which they are. Ebullient, energetic, contagious, Rae is also a vocal gymnast with a kick-ass band. Thanks to my son for exposing me to this artist.

Black Pumas – Black Pumas (2018).  I also got to see this band in 2021 – my first show in 18 months due to the pandemic, and this is simply the best rock band to come out in recent history. Offering swampy, Austin soul, this duo churns out melodies over intoxicating grooves and doesn’t let up. And singer Eric Burton is…well…as amazing as the aforementioned Sammy Rae. A powerhouse. And a kick-ass logo and album cover to boot! Rae could learn a thing or two about their graphic design.

Flying Colors – Second Nature (2014).  Oh, the alluring bombast of prog rock! It’s a genre that these days often borders on metal, which isn’t in my wheelhouse, but wowie wow wow, this release by Flying Colors, a sort of super group with former members of Dixie Dregs, Deep Purple, Dream Theater and others, is the bomb, offering grandiose, anthemic rock that’s complicated and heavy without going over the edge. It’s also melodic as hell, which is what I always desire. This release – the band’s second – is the better of their three releases, and it accompanied me for many hours as I worked on my basement in 2020. I wish I could remember how I first heard of them; I think it may have been the podcast Political Beats. As with so many albums from the CD Age, it’s too damn long and the final two or three tracks should have been scratched, but those first six tracks would make a killer normal album-length venture.

Queens of the Stone Age – …Like Clockwork (2013).  This probably should have made my list from 2019. I first heard the song “I Sat by the Ocean” while driving home late at night and nearly pulled the car over. What the hell was this? A pulsating, edgy ditty with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind lyrics and a unique vocalist. Wonderful, as is the whole album, toes dipping in melancholy and angst that often hits the spot for me. Why it took my TWENTY YEARS to discover this band is mind-boggling, but as I’ve admitted before, I have my blind spots. Like, nearly my entire periphery.

Bright Eyes – The People’s Key (2011).  Kudos to WXRT for playing the song “Jejune Stars” one afternoon while I was driving (You see? It really does pay to drive sometimes and listen to whatever is out there) and thought, hot damn. I memorized just enough lyrics to do a Google search upon arriving home and discovered once again that I was listening to a band that was TWENTY YEARS OLD! I’m seeing this band this Saturday in Chicago and am really excited to see how this band plays live. (Update: they were excellent.)

The Red Button – As Far As Yesterday Goes (2011).  Damn, this is good. Once again Spotify gets credit for this one, as the title track of this band’s sophomore effort came up while listening to Emitt Rhodes’s radio (Rhodes will come up in my next blog). I actually thought the song was a Rhodes recording; it was such early-70s-powerpop-perfection, but this comes from a duo of veteran LA musicians, and they really hit the nail on the head after their 2007 debut. Once again, I learned about a band ten years AFTER the fact. Sensing a trend?

William Shatner – Has Been (2004).  I’ve written about this one before but failed to include it in my top albums back in 2018. With Ben Folds at the helm and with contributions by Joe Jackson, Aimee Mann, Henry Rollins and Brad Paisley, this is a terrific blend of comedy, insight, vulnerability, irony and sentiment. If you’re skeptical, I get it, but listen to the first three tracks on the album and then tell me Shatner doesn’t have something very real to offer.

U2 – How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (2004).  I remember seeing the iPod commercial with the accompanying U2 song “Vertigo” during the summer Olympics and thinking, well hell, this is refreshing! I love the tune, and probably the first 7 or 8 of this release before it starts to wane a bit. But for me, this is superior to the critically praised All the things You Can’t Leave Behind, and it represents the last gasp of a band that has probably overstayed its welcome. I’m still pissed that I’ve never seen these guys live. Hell, one of my daughters has seen them twice!

Kate Schrock – Dames Rocket (2000).  I’d completely forgotten about this gem, but then last year when I was cataloging my CDs on Discogs I happened upon this album again, having to clear away the cobwebs before my memory started to come back. Of course! I love this album! And those horns were arranged by my old Berklee buddy Tom Snow! I was delighted to be reacquainted with this singer from Maine. The album gets better as it goes, with “River,” “The Wait” and “St. Jude” absolutely killer. Wonderful.

k.d. lang – Ingenue (1992).  Another one of those gems that I simply forget to listen to, but after revisiting it I recalled that this is the real deal. Lang’s voice is unrivaled, absolutely perfect, and the music on this LP offers complex textures: sensual, moody and passionate, desire oozing from the grooves. The album takes it’s time – perfect for sitting back in the recliner with a bourbon in hand on a cold, winter’s evening. The final track, “Constant Craving,” got some radio play back in the day, but the penultimate “Tears of Love’s Recall” is one that really grabs me. 

Psychodots – Psychodots (1991).  Digging into the band The Bears led me to this follow-up band – with the same members minus Adrian Belew – and I spent the next two months listening to this album. The song “Stella” is perfect; I once played it on repeat for an hour straight on my back patio. This band played its last show just a few months ago in their hometown Cincinnati, and I’m sorry I never saw them in any formation, including the original band, The Raisins, whose LP I’m still on the lookout for.

That takes me through the 90s! I’ll add twelve additional album next week as I cover the 80s through the 50s.

Two Albums I Missed

I must have been preoccupied in 2004 and 2005 – something to do with three kids under the age of eight I suppose – because aside from Rufus Wainwright’s Want Two, I can’t recall any new album that I purchased during that timeframe. Flash forward thirteen years or so and I’m filling in a few gaps, and I’ve found two gems from the mid 2000s that I missed the first time around: Paul McCartney’s Chaos and Creation in the Backyard and William Shatner’s (yes, that William Shatner) Has Been. Both are fantastic, and dare I say, McCartney’s album from 2004 may be among his top five albums of his entire post-Beatles career.

McCartney is one of those artists who I want to like more than I actually do, and therefore often overrate an album in retrospect. People often refer to his 1989 release Flowers in the Dirt as a great ablum, but listen to it again sometime and you may conclude that it’s a pretty good album. Sure, he makes a bold statement with Elvis Costello’s co-written opening track, and the album chugs along nicely for a while, but it falls off the rails completely by the end (and track two – “Rough Ride” – blows). But when compared it to his prior efforts, Press to Play and Pipes of Peace, its high marks are exaggerated.

Chaos is something different. With the help of producer Nigel Godric and a supporting cast of musicians mostly named Paul McCartney, the former Beatle recorded what is undoubtedly his best in the past twenty-five years and probably his best since Back to the Egg. (I had previously considered Tug of War great but realized that I conveniently overlooked ”Dress me up as a Robber” and “Ebony and Ivory.”) Unlike so many McCartney albums, there isn’t one track on Chaos that leads me to reach for the “next track” button, and many of the songs are downright stellar.

McCartney proves he can still deliver a deftly-crafted pop song in “A Fine Line” and can make a gentle nod to his Beatles past with tracks like “Jenny Wren” and “English Tea,” but for me the standouts are songs that offer an unexpected darker side. My favorite albums moments are:

• The 2:05 mark of “How Kind of You” as the drums and electric guitar kick in. The tune is lyrically hopeful but juxtaposed nicely against a rather melancholy harmonic progression that’s only enhanced by the drone of a harmonium.
• The opening of “At the Mercy,” a particularly complex song both melodically and harmonically, deliciously dark by McCartney’s standards with a universal lyric.
• The entire track of “Riding to Vanity Fair.” This gets my vote for the best song on the album, a gem that lifts the veil from Paul’s sunny disposition and wades in the waters of resentment.

While listening to this album for the first time I had assumed that it was about his breakup with Heather Mills, but alas, they didn’t divorce until 2008. Still, Chaos exudes uneasiness, reminding me of Ben Folds’s Songs for Silverman in that it may have captured the beginning of a downfall that didn't come to fruition until a few years later.

All in all, Chaos is a beautifully rich and complex album.  I’ve listened to it more in the past six months than any other album I own.

And now to William Shatner. When I saw him perform “Common People” on The Tonight Show with Ben Folds and Joe Jackson, both of whom are among my favorite musicians, the song peeked my interest back in 2004. And then I awoke the next morning to get the kids ready for school and forgot all about it.

Fast forward eleven years later, when – in an effort to prove to my friend Kevin that 1995 was in fact a terrific year for rock music and not its nadir – I purchased the album Different Class by the band Pulp, and the fantastic third track “Common People” suddenly reminded me of the Shatner performance. I finally took the plunge and purchased Has Been earlier this year on the advice of a musician friend of mine, and lo and behold, the former Captain Kirk – with the help of producer and co-writer Ben Folds – pulls off a brilliant combination of wit, vulnerability, frustration and hilarity.

Shatner can’t sing. He knows he can’t sing, and when I mean he can’t sing, I don’t mean he can’t sing well, I mean he CAN NOT SING. It’s okay. Instead, he executes something close to beat poetry behind a backdrop of Folds musical compositions, and the results are often mesmerizing.  My favorite tracks from the album:

• “It Hasn’t Happened Yet.” After the entertaining cover of “Common People,” Shatner lets the listener know that the album isn’t going to be one big joke, that lyrically he can match the uneasiness and regret of a good Jackson Browne song. Wonderfully evocative.
• “You’ll Have Time.” Sure, it goes on a bit long, but it’s an excellent example of how a performance can raise the ante. Reading the lyrics to this song and one might think, “meh,” but hear the lyrics out of Shatner’s mouth, and it’s comedic perfection.
• Nothing wins me over more than an artist who doesn’t take himself too seriously (and there have been plenty of times in Shatner’s career when he seemed to take himself WAY too seriously), and in “I Can’t Get Behind That” he and Henry Rollins recite a litany of things that make their blood boil. And then Shatner says, “I can’t get behind so-called singers that can’t carry a tune, get paid for talking. How easy is that?”  I’m sold!

So there you are. Two of undoubtedly dozens of great albums I missed in the mid 2000s. If you’ve got a few more suggestions, send them my way. It seems there’s always time to make up for lost time.