(1984's Paris, Texas; song here)
(this post includes a long feature on twenty albums that have shaped my life in some way; that list can be found after the page break)
If there has been one discovery I've made during this learning experience of a semester, it's that there's only so many things in life you can truly enjoy. It's important to stop, take time to enjoy those things, and realize that you're in a pretty lucky position to be able to enjoy what you love just by being alive in that very moment on this planet.
To the surprise of exactly no one ever, I was playing basketball yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon. If you know me at all, you know that basketball is perhaps my favorite activity in this world other than eating, and it's something I enjoy with a deep and fierce passion. It's an outlet for me to work off frustration and then realize that I'm still having fun playing a sport I love.
After finishing up by making a few last shots, I took time to sit down on the back of my car and look out at what surrounded me. The place that I play at is in the middle of Fort Sanders, surrounded by concrete hospitals and deteriorating houses that haven't been renovated in decades. It's not the most beautiful place for a person to enjoy the sights, but sometimes you have to adjust your settings to get the highest amount of happiness out of it.
As I sat down, I started thinking about how utterly insane it was that God was allowing me to do more than a few things Wednesday afternoon. Despite how flawed I am, God loves me (and you!) enough to give me the ability to breathe, to run, to shoot, to see, to love, to feel, and to do so many things in life that I completely don't deserve to do. After blowing my own mind for a minute, I realized again that the best thing I can do in life is bring glory to someone who gives me the opportunity every day to do an incredible range of things despite doing nothing on my own end to deserve these abilities. God is pretty great, you guys.
20 AT 20: Album Edition
As promised last week, here's a list that I've been working on for a while. I hope you enjoy it, or something.
After finishing up by making a few last shots, I took time to sit down on the back of my car and look out at what surrounded me. The place that I play at is in the middle of Fort Sanders, surrounded by concrete hospitals and deteriorating houses that haven't been renovated in decades. It's not the most beautiful place for a person to enjoy the sights, but sometimes you have to adjust your settings to get the highest amount of happiness out of it.
As I sat down, I started thinking about how utterly insane it was that God was allowing me to do more than a few things Wednesday afternoon. Despite how flawed I am, God loves me (and you!) enough to give me the ability to breathe, to run, to shoot, to see, to love, to feel, and to do so many things in life that I completely don't deserve to do. After blowing my own mind for a minute, I realized again that the best thing I can do in life is bring glory to someone who gives me the opportunity every day to do an incredible range of things despite doing nothing on my own end to deserve these abilities. God is pretty great, you guys.
20 AT 20: Album Edition
As promised last week, here's a list that I've been working on for a while. I hope you enjoy it, or something.
Somewhere along the line in my life, I started to find music important enough that I wanted to write about it where there was opportunity to and to influence my friends' tastes. I've probably committed excessive amounts of both acts, but this is a culmination of several things: twenty years on Earth, a couple thousand albums listened to, and a playlist that tries to find the one percent of those I find the most special.
A quick note: this is NOT the twenty best albums I've heard in my lifetime, but rather the twenty that I've found most influential in my everyday life and writing style, whether it was through mood, emotion, or just how ridiculously good the album was. (I plan on doing another post later than year that gives the 100 best albums I've ever heard, or some other nice round number like that one). With all this said, here are the twenty most influential albums I've heard in my first twenty years on Earth, with a few sentences on each selection. The Spotify link is HERE.
These are written in no particular order, although it is in reverse order from the Spotify playlist. Also, no pictures, because it's a lot of work and because this page would load even more slowly. To help you sift through the playlist, a track or two is linked on each album.
These are written in no particular order, although it is in reverse order from the Spotify playlist. Also, no pictures, because it's a lot of work and because this page would load even more slowly. To help you sift through the playlist, a track or two is linked on each album.
The Queen is Dead, by the Smiths
This is not only an essential album for the (500) Days of Summer crowd, but maybe the most well-crafted guitar work of the 1980s indie rock/jangle pop era. Johnny Marr's best work is found on here as is Morrissey's finest songwriting. Pitchfork once said that "a new batch of lonely and alienated teenagers discover the Smiths each year," and there shouldn't be anything wrong with that. This is a fine album to lose yourself in and feel those important feelings through.
American Football, by American Football
American Football may be the greatest band to have existed that released less than an hour's worth of music during their run, but that's not important here. This is the only seasonally relevant album to me when autumn rolls around, because watching the leaves fall while wondering why it all looks and feels so lonely and finding myself listening to this for the fourth time that day while feeling the most emotional of emotions is a habit that I don't want to break.
American Football may be the greatest band to have existed that released less than an hour's worth of music during their run, but that's not important here. This is the only seasonally relevant album to me when autumn rolls around, because watching the leaves fall while wondering why it all looks and feels so lonely and finding myself listening to this for the fourth time that day while feeling the most emotional of emotions is a habit that I don't want to break.
Kid A, by Radiohead
Radiohead were the first "weird" group that I discovered way back in seventh grade, when my extent of musical knowledge was whatever Green Day had released that year and what was on the local hard rock/alternative rock station. For reasons forever to be unknown, Kid A immediately clicked for me as it hadn't for several longtime fans of the band, the title track becoming my favorite bedtime song for the rest of middle school. The number of times I played this album straight through that seventh grade year is immeasurable. What's truly remarkable is that eight years after I first heard it, Kid A remains one of the most phenomenal musical accomplishments of my lifetime.
Pink Moon, by Nick Drake
People that are much better at writing than I am have said much more wonderful things about this album than I can. It's the greatest contemporary folk album of all time, Nick Drake's voice is beautiful, and it's a breathtakingly simple experience. Go listen to it already.
Illmatic, by Nas
Earlier this year, I called this (in a side note) the greatest album of all time to play basketball to. It holds this award for two reasons: the album might as well have been produced on a Bedford-Stuyvesant court in the middle of June and it's just the best. This is perhaps the first rap album I truly loved and it'll always hold a special place in my heart. Less sentimental but perhaps just as much so: screaming "who's world is this? THE WORLD IS YOURS" after exams is therapeutic.
The Glow, Pt. 2, by the Microphones
I've spent too many summer nights zoning out to this amidst a background of stars, trees, and other organic beauties not to include this here. There have been several periods in my life where I wanted to listen to the first three tracks on repeat forever (I can think of a bare few three-track runs to start an album that contain such a perfect combination of warmth and energy), and for that, I'll always love it. The title track wrings tears from my eyes frequently. Others are practically begging for you to turn your volume as high as you can handle and then some. I'll always want and need this, even when I don't.
Funeral, by Arcade Fire
I'm forcing myself to sum up my relationship with this band in seven lines or less, so: I downloaded Rebellion (Lies) in eighth grade before a drive to Nashville and listened to it for the first time. I listened to nothing else during the late-night drive home and immediately downloaded the rest of the album upon return. Arcade Fire is now a "big" band, but they were big here first: everything from the Neighborhood series to Wake Up is built for the big stage years before they were to get there. As someone who saw them on a big stage in a big arena in a (semi) big city, they belonged, and it was the warmest, most relatable and loving connection I've had with a band since that drive to Nashville.
Daydream Nation, by Sonic Youth
Eighth grade was also where I discovered Sonic Youth, who inspired me to ditch the whole "act real cool, be popular, and win life" thing, and thank God for that. A near-perfect and somewhat uncategorizable record, Daydream Nation was one of my finer discoveries of eighth grade, along with Arcade Fire, internet forums, and Steak and Shake. Teenage Riot soundtracked many of my morning bus rides to school in eighth and ninth grade, if you were wondering for some reason.
A Love Supreme, by John Coltrane
From the September of my sophomore year of high school to the week before I left for college, I worked at a small public radio station in McMinnville. For the most part, we played a lot of really terrible stuff: "smooth" jazz, which doubles as elevator music, was a frequent play. We played far too much bluegrass and far too little Beach Boys and Coltrane. The best contribution I made to the station during my time was ensuring that this album was played at least every other time I worked, because it's far preferable than the seventeenth play of whatever cover of Kentucky Waltz was scheduled, along with being preferable to most other albums released in the history of ever. A love supreme! A love supreme! A love supreme! (Bonus: most deeply spiritual mainstream jazz album ever?)
Madvillainy, by Madvillain
Genius. Two musical geniuses, to be correct. The final six tracks are as good of a run as you'll find in hip-hop, along with pretty much the entire thing.
Abbey Road, by the Beatles
Confession: I had never listened to a full Beatles album before junior year of high school. The Beatles re-releasing their entire catalog was a benefit to my musical knowledge, because I was then able to hear this masterpiece for the first time. The worst thing any of your friends have ever said is that the Beatles are/were overrated, although it could be a blessing in disguise, as it's a nice opportunity to stop associating with that person until they right their wrong.
I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, by Yo La Tengo
I think I'm at the point where I'm able to describe this album (and the band) with adjectives and nouns and fragments and nothing else. Warmth. Summer. Married couple singing. Beauty. Songwriting. Bright lights. Nashville, the city. Nashville, the scene. Every late night drive of my live since ninth grade. Afternoons. 90 degrees. Hot chicken. Hot heat. Overheating. Hazy. Cooling off. Cooling down. Coming back. Try to be more assured. Try to be more right there. Try to be less uptight. Try to be more aware. Let's do it again sometime.
The Lonesome Crowded West, by Modest Mouse
I don't think I ever really grasped how intelligently wonderful this album was until this past summer. For eight months, this and Born to Run were the only CDs I needed in my car because they both filled irreplaceable musical needs: Born to Run giving you that freeing feeling you can only hold on to for so long, The Lonesome Crowded West feeling anxious and angry and pissed-off and brilliant and relatable all at the same time. The album is about freedom from various things, but it's just that emotional album you need when driving through nowhere seems like your thing and you need someone and something to think about.
Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, by Pavement
Along with Pixies' Doolittle, this is a most important and definitive indie rock album. Pavement remains an extremely influential band for many reasons, but a prime one is that they could write songs that instantly dug their way into your head and never left, like half the songs on here. Gold Soundz is just that song, Cut Your Hair was the main inspiration for my long hair phase, and yeah, forget anyone who doesn't like Pavement.
OK Computer, by Radiohead
The best album ever when I was 13. Still one of the best albums ever. A true achievement in every sense of the word. I wore out my first CD copy of this, if I remember correctly. Play Exit Music/Karma Police/Climbing Up the Walls/No Surprises in sequence for the most depressingly beautiful rainy day EP ever.
The Velvet Underground & Nico, by the Velvet Underground
1. RIP Lou Reed. 2. VU didn't have too much of a fan base when they were around (this album only sold 10,000 copies during its original run), which is a shame, because listening to this makes it obvious that they were several years ahead of their time. It's 47 years old and still one of the greatest achievements in creativity, innovation, and straight-up quality in rock and roll history. Side A (the first six songs) is a fantastic lazy afternoon streak of whoa.
Kind of Blue, by Miles Davis
Early in high school, my little brother played tee ball, which (all apologies) is one of the five most boring ways to waste an hour of your life. He's up to baseball now, which is far more exciting, but at that time, I'd be looking for something, anything to capture my attention. I found this album one of those snoozeworthy Tuesday evenings in May, and suddenly they weren't quite as sleepy anymore. My personal favorite album to listen to while on the beach at night.
Pet Sounds, by the Beach Boys
Everything sounds so warm that only the Beach Boys could have done this. Supposedly, Pet Sounds inspired the Beatles to record Revolver, which is literally all you need to know about why this is a timeless classic and an achievement of incredible proportions. Nothing in this world is perfect, but Pet Sounds is about as close as we can get.
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, by Neutral Milk Hotel
The wildest and sweetest and most startlingly genius ride I've been on through music. This is one of about five albums that I wish I could relive the experience of listening for the first time. I once heard this described as the most beautiful album ever composed, and I'd be hard-pressed to argue against that. "I can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all."
Loveless, by My Bloody Valentine
The soundtrack to my entire high school experience, the album I can connect far too many important life moments with, and my personal favorite album ever. (Whoops! Just gave away the ending of the Top 100 Albums list due in a few months.) Loveless is a lot of things to me: the alarm clock I had from sophomore year to graduation, 75 beautiful seconds in a Sofia Coppola film, a really loud and noisy paradise, and more. Much like Yo La Tengo are just that band, Loveless is just that album.
Twenty More Albums That Just Missed the Cut (Honorable Mentions, or Something?)
J Dilla, Donuts
Panda Bear, Person Pitch
Sufjan Stevens, Michigan
Guided by Voices, Bee Thousand
Animal Collective, Sung Tongs
Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Manitoba/Caribou, Up in Flames
The Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs
The Avalanches, Since I Left You
Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town
Joanna Newsom, Ys
The Cure, Disintegration
The National, Boxer
Beach House, Teen Dream
Yo La Tengo, Painful
Sunny Day Real Estate, Diary
Kanye West, The College Dropout
The Replacements, Let It Be
Pavement, Slanted and Enchanted
OTHER THINGS
Radiohead were the first "weird" group that I discovered way back in seventh grade, when my extent of musical knowledge was whatever Green Day had released that year and what was on the local hard rock/alternative rock station. For reasons forever to be unknown, Kid A immediately clicked for me as it hadn't for several longtime fans of the band, the title track becoming my favorite bedtime song for the rest of middle school. The number of times I played this album straight through that seventh grade year is immeasurable. What's truly remarkable is that eight years after I first heard it, Kid A remains one of the most phenomenal musical accomplishments of my lifetime.
Pink Moon, by Nick Drake
People that are much better at writing than I am have said much more wonderful things about this album than I can. It's the greatest contemporary folk album of all time, Nick Drake's voice is beautiful, and it's a breathtakingly simple experience. Go listen to it already.
Illmatic, by Nas
Earlier this year, I called this (in a side note) the greatest album of all time to play basketball to. It holds this award for two reasons: the album might as well have been produced on a Bedford-Stuyvesant court in the middle of June and it's just the best. This is perhaps the first rap album I truly loved and it'll always hold a special place in my heart. Less sentimental but perhaps just as much so: screaming "who's world is this? THE WORLD IS YOURS" after exams is therapeutic.
The Glow, Pt. 2, by the Microphones
I've spent too many summer nights zoning out to this amidst a background of stars, trees, and other organic beauties not to include this here. There have been several periods in my life where I wanted to listen to the first three tracks on repeat forever (I can think of a bare few three-track runs to start an album that contain such a perfect combination of warmth and energy), and for that, I'll always love it. The title track wrings tears from my eyes frequently. Others are practically begging for you to turn your volume as high as you can handle and then some. I'll always want and need this, even when I don't.
Funeral, by Arcade Fire
I'm forcing myself to sum up my relationship with this band in seven lines or less, so: I downloaded Rebellion (Lies) in eighth grade before a drive to Nashville and listened to it for the first time. I listened to nothing else during the late-night drive home and immediately downloaded the rest of the album upon return. Arcade Fire is now a "big" band, but they were big here first: everything from the Neighborhood series to Wake Up is built for the big stage years before they were to get there. As someone who saw them on a big stage in a big arena in a (semi) big city, they belonged, and it was the warmest, most relatable and loving connection I've had with a band since that drive to Nashville.
Daydream Nation, by Sonic Youth
Eighth grade was also where I discovered Sonic Youth, who inspired me to ditch the whole "act real cool, be popular, and win life" thing, and thank God for that. A near-perfect and somewhat uncategorizable record, Daydream Nation was one of my finer discoveries of eighth grade, along with Arcade Fire, internet forums, and Steak and Shake. Teenage Riot soundtracked many of my morning bus rides to school in eighth and ninth grade, if you were wondering for some reason.
A Love Supreme, by John Coltrane
From the September of my sophomore year of high school to the week before I left for college, I worked at a small public radio station in McMinnville. For the most part, we played a lot of really terrible stuff: "smooth" jazz, which doubles as elevator music, was a frequent play. We played far too much bluegrass and far too little Beach Boys and Coltrane. The best contribution I made to the station during my time was ensuring that this album was played at least every other time I worked, because it's far preferable than the seventeenth play of whatever cover of Kentucky Waltz was scheduled, along with being preferable to most other albums released in the history of ever. A love supreme! A love supreme! A love supreme! (Bonus: most deeply spiritual mainstream jazz album ever?)
Madvillainy, by Madvillain
Genius. Two musical geniuses, to be correct. The final six tracks are as good of a run as you'll find in hip-hop, along with pretty much the entire thing.
Abbey Road, by the Beatles
Confession: I had never listened to a full Beatles album before junior year of high school. The Beatles re-releasing their entire catalog was a benefit to my musical knowledge, because I was then able to hear this masterpiece for the first time. The worst thing any of your friends have ever said is that the Beatles are/were overrated, although it could be a blessing in disguise, as it's a nice opportunity to stop associating with that person until they right their wrong.
I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, by Yo La Tengo
I think I'm at the point where I'm able to describe this album (and the band) with adjectives and nouns and fragments and nothing else. Warmth. Summer. Married couple singing. Beauty. Songwriting. Bright lights. Nashville, the city. Nashville, the scene. Every late night drive of my live since ninth grade. Afternoons. 90 degrees. Hot chicken. Hot heat. Overheating. Hazy. Cooling off. Cooling down. Coming back. Try to be more assured. Try to be more right there. Try to be less uptight. Try to be more aware. Let's do it again sometime.
The Lonesome Crowded West, by Modest Mouse
I don't think I ever really grasped how intelligently wonderful this album was until this past summer. For eight months, this and Born to Run were the only CDs I needed in my car because they both filled irreplaceable musical needs: Born to Run giving you that freeing feeling you can only hold on to for so long, The Lonesome Crowded West feeling anxious and angry and pissed-off and brilliant and relatable all at the same time. The album is about freedom from various things, but it's just that emotional album you need when driving through nowhere seems like your thing and you need someone and something to think about.
Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, by Pavement
Along with Pixies' Doolittle, this is a most important and definitive indie rock album. Pavement remains an extremely influential band for many reasons, but a prime one is that they could write songs that instantly dug their way into your head and never left, like half the songs on here. Gold Soundz is just that song, Cut Your Hair was the main inspiration for my long hair phase, and yeah, forget anyone who doesn't like Pavement.
OK Computer, by Radiohead
The best album ever when I was 13. Still one of the best albums ever. A true achievement in every sense of the word. I wore out my first CD copy of this, if I remember correctly. Play Exit Music/Karma Police/Climbing Up the Walls/No Surprises in sequence for the most depressingly beautiful rainy day EP ever.
The Velvet Underground & Nico, by the Velvet Underground
1. RIP Lou Reed. 2. VU didn't have too much of a fan base when they were around (this album only sold 10,000 copies during its original run), which is a shame, because listening to this makes it obvious that they were several years ahead of their time. It's 47 years old and still one of the greatest achievements in creativity, innovation, and straight-up quality in rock and roll history. Side A (the first six songs) is a fantastic lazy afternoon streak of whoa.
Kind of Blue, by Miles Davis
Early in high school, my little brother played tee ball, which (all apologies) is one of the five most boring ways to waste an hour of your life. He's up to baseball now, which is far more exciting, but at that time, I'd be looking for something, anything to capture my attention. I found this album one of those snoozeworthy Tuesday evenings in May, and suddenly they weren't quite as sleepy anymore. My personal favorite album to listen to while on the beach at night.
Pet Sounds, by the Beach Boys
Everything sounds so warm that only the Beach Boys could have done this. Supposedly, Pet Sounds inspired the Beatles to record Revolver, which is literally all you need to know about why this is a timeless classic and an achievement of incredible proportions. Nothing in this world is perfect, but Pet Sounds is about as close as we can get.
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, by Neutral Milk Hotel
The wildest and sweetest and most startlingly genius ride I've been on through music. This is one of about five albums that I wish I could relive the experience of listening for the first time. I once heard this described as the most beautiful album ever composed, and I'd be hard-pressed to argue against that. "I can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all."
Loveless, by My Bloody Valentine
The soundtrack to my entire high school experience, the album I can connect far too many important life moments with, and my personal favorite album ever. (Whoops! Just gave away the ending of the Top 100 Albums list due in a few months.) Loveless is a lot of things to me: the alarm clock I had from sophomore year to graduation, 75 beautiful seconds in a Sofia Coppola film, a really loud and noisy paradise, and more. Much like Yo La Tengo are just that band, Loveless is just that album.
Twenty More Albums That Just Missed the Cut (Honorable Mentions, or Something?)
J Dilla, Donuts
Panda Bear, Person Pitch
Sufjan Stevens, Michigan
Guided by Voices, Bee Thousand
Animal Collective, Sung Tongs
Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Manitoba/Caribou, Up in Flames
The Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs
The Avalanches, Since I Left You
Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town
Joanna Newsom, Ys
The Cure, Disintegration
The National, Boxer
Beach House, Teen Dream
Yo La Tengo, Painful
Sunny Day Real Estate, Diary
Kanye West, The College Dropout
The Replacements, Let It Be
Pavement, Slanted and Enchanted
OTHER THINGS
- I just wrote a lot of words, so I'll stay light on the substance here. However...
- I'm not sure how much friends of mine care about David Letterman's retirement, but here's my take, especially since Stephen Colbert was named as replacement upon writing this. It's impossible to "replace" someone who is unquestionably a legend of his genre, so there's no real use getting upset over who CBS picks and why. Colbert is a fine choice, for what it's worth.
- I decided to work at Sacred Heart's summer camp after all. I doubt I'll be working there in the fall, but this seemed like the best option for my summer that I could identify.
- Public shaming weight update: 163, down two pounds from last week. Goal: 160.
- Next stupid list that will take up a lot of time and will cause controversy: Fast Food Restaurants, Ranked.
No sunken treasure,
Will
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