Albums I Could Not Live Without (Part 1)

Friday is fun because it’s music, so there’s always a playlist. Today, I start to list the albums I could not live without. Music. Glorious music. There for us all.

I used to love blogging Top 10 lists. The great fun (and frustration) of a Top 10 list is that it’s always as much about what you leave out as what you include. So today I thought I’d start a potential ongoing series. From time to time I’m just going to jot down some of the albums I feel I could not live without. The ones that just absolutely wreck you; the records you want to both tell everyone about and keep entirely for yourself. The ones where you feel you’re being let in on a secret.

Here’s the first 10 I could straightaway think of…I reckon I’ll drop another list of another 10 in a few weeks eh…

You get to hear them too. Linking to each album. And of course you should share your list, or the start of your list, in the comments below.

1.     Dusty in Memphis by Dusty Springfield

I don’t know when I first heard it, but it was probably the very first Dusty Springfield album I heard, and it was on the back of reading about it – and hearing from others that it was a must. I love the embedded story that it was poorly received at the time, then became the go-to Dusty album. That sort of a story will always appeal to me. It’s also an amazing pivot. Springfield was trying to recapture some earlier magic, and also reinvent herself. She signed to Atlantic and went to work with Jerry Wexler, all in the hope that she could channel some of that special Aretha Franklin energy. The big hit from this album, Son of a Preacher Man, was actually written with Aretha in mind. But it became Dusty’s biggest hit. And Aretha was quick to cover it. Amazing songs, incredible musicians, and that haunting, perfectly scorched, sad and sultry voice of Dusty. It’s just one of the greatest records you could ever hear. Southern soul served dry, lonely, and lovely.

2.     Nine Objects of Desire by Suzanne Vega

I had been a fan since the first two albums. I was just a kid. But I loved the songs. And when this came out – after a fairly big lapse, I was newly a fan all over again. But this album feels, still, like a bit of a secret. Every single song is brilliant. All are exquisitely written and formed, with killer musicians and production. And yet even some Vega fans don’t seem to know this one as well as they should. Hmm…I guess I love when this happens too – but I certainly spent some time trying to tell everyone about this. I remember buying it in Tauranga on a car-trip. This and a solo album by Rick Wright (the Pink Floyd keyboardist). They were played on repeat in my car Discman in the last 1990s. I felt like the Vega record was a favourite on first listen. It’s never been anything but.

3.     Kiko by Los Lobos

The producer of that Suzanne Vega album was Mitchell Froom (they were married at the time). He produced a great range of music across the late 1980s and early 1990s – Crowded House, The Corrs, Marshall Crenshaw, Randy Newman, Bonnie Raitt, Sheryl Crow, Bob Dylan…I mean I was basically a fan of most of the things he touched. And when I wasn’t, I was still curious, the way you are with a great producer, and people like Froom and Daniel Lanois could win you over just with their involvement. Kiko is my favourite Los Lobos album, and the band’s best. It’s also the argument I always put forward whenever anyone likes to joke that they’re known only for La Bamba. Not only are they a band with 50 years behind the wheel, and boasting so many incredible performances, players, and records, they made THIS! I love it so much I wanted to call our son, Kiko. We decided against that, and probably for the best. It might have seemed confusing, or culturally insensitive/inappropriate, and that would never have been the aim. But seriously, everything about this record just utterly kills me. It’s just a perfect set of songs. Perfect!

4.     Night Train by Oscar Peterson Trio

We did, as you may well know from my writing across the years and in this newsletter, name our son Oscar. And though it was probably more about Oscar Wilde, and Oscar The Grouch (seriously!) I had Oscar Peterson on my mind as soon as we made the call. I came home from the hospital the night he was born and listened to The Beach Boys’ SmiLE album and then this. I also watched a Peter Gabriel DVD and nursed a whiskey, all but weeping as Solsbury Hill kicked in. But this Oscar Peterson album seemed to be the most important thing to hear that night. It’s been with me forever. To this day, I have a copy on CD and one on vinyl. It’s a perfect example of a great piano-led jazz trio. Every member is crucial, no one ever overplays. It’s understated magic in fact. And maybe I first arrived at this album because of the drummer, Ed Thigpen, and certainly I listen for his incredible gifts whenever I hear it now. But bassist Ray Brown and the band’s leader – Oscar Peterson – are worth listening for as well; by which I mean I can play this album and just focus on the bass playing, or just the piano playing, and then again to take in the sublime interplay of all three musicians, all of them working for the tune always. A great collection of bluesy ballads and R’n’B standards in jazz form.

5.     Journey in Satchidananda by Alice Coltrane

I think maybe I fell in love with this working late nights in a record store. I was already into John Coltrane, and aware of Alice – maybe only knew a few things from compilations, and from her appearances on some of John’s tracks, but as soon as I heard this I was in. And so much so that I used to take this with me to pubs – get them to play it over the house system. I was like a traveling salesman with this album for a while, getting a couple of bars to buy their own copies on the strength of a night sharing it through their sound-system. I think I’d hear something quite like this in my head for years before I’d ever actually heard this. And I sincerely hope that makes sense. This was such an explosion of ideas in my brain, a furthering of modal jazz that I was so ready for. And still think is one of the most perfect musical meditations.

6.     Closing Time by Tom Waits

The first Tom Waits album I heard was Blue Valentine and I’ll be forever grateful for that. And though I don’t listen to him a lot now, I love every album. The second album I heard was this, his debut. So it was quite a shock, after getting acquainted with his Beefheart-ian growl. Here he’s a crooner. And though that never quite worked out for him (hence the drastic reinvention), the songwriting is hit-the-ground-running, with bits of barroom jazz (Virginia Avenue) and that Eagles classic, Ol’ 55 and of course I Hope I Don’t Fall In Love With You. But the one that tears me to strips every fucking time is Martha. My god. That song. That song! (Happy 50^th Birthday Closing Time!)

7.     Blessings and Burdens by Paul Ubana Jones

I bought this immediately after seeing Paul play for the first time. I’ve seen him more than any other musical act; I’ve lost count. I’ve owned all of his albums, loved them all, but this is the one. This is the album I return to most, this is the one that has the songs that mean the most to me, and it’s also the best business-card for his special talent. I truly believe that. Sometimes I feel like this is one of the most important albums in my life, and it’s all the more special when I think that more people should know about this. More should love it. More should hear it. So many amazing songs. But Lust for Life is the one that does it. That line about “each time I return to my hometown, it always starts to rain”. That took on a real dark, special meaning for me way back, nearly 30 years ago now. It sits deep in my heart forever.

8.     Paranoid by Black Sabbath

People talk about all of the other early Sabbath albums, and they’re all great, but this is the one I think of the most; also the one I play the most. Every song is superb, every player nails their job. It is a wonderful drum album. But it has great basslines too. It’s a guitar record. But then there’s Ozzy being Ozzy as well as he ever did nail it. When I first heard this, on vinyl, as a teenager, it felt like some special dark-energy version of the Deep Purple, Cream, Led Zep and early Fleetwood Mac that I already knew and loved. It went beyond. Deeper. Weirder. Darker.

9.     Astral Weeks by Van Morrison

When I first heard this I thought Van Morrison had made up a new language. I still feel like that every time I listen to it. Van Morrison is a grumpy old sod, and he’s largely been making the same album for 30 years now, but his first decade of work is utterly undeniable. And this album is one of those special, once-in-a-lifetime-talent records. Any time I hear it feels like a first time. Still.

10.  Assault on Precinct 13 Soundtrack by John Carpenter

One of the biggest questions I ponder, almost daily, is what is the best John Carpenter soundtrack? What is my favourite? It’s almost always the one I’m listening to. Could be Halloween. Or They Live. Or Christine. Or…Well, actually the one I am most besotted with is the minimalist score to Assault on Precinct 13, a bit of a dry-run for Halloween in some ways, but with more space, less movement. Drum machines and synthesizers. They’ll rule the world one day.

YAY! You made it through the list. Two bonus rounds. I’m dropping a brand new album in here - one I’m hearing for the first time as I write this, but I’m so sure it’ll be a future-classic, a special album in my life; one I’ll return to so often. So check this out!

And of course there’s also our weekly playlist. It’s volume 110 of A Little Something For The Weekend…Sounds Good! So you can check that out as well.

Also if you’re in Wellington, my band Dirty Spoons is playing at the Aro Fair. We’ll be on at 12.30pm this Saturday, Aro Park.

Finally, if you wanted to contribute a guest post where you shared the albums you can’t live without, drop me a line. It would be cool to make this series a dialogue of sorts, a collaboration.