Guest Post: 10 Albums I Couldn’t Live Without by Si White

Friday is music - with playlists and albums galore. Today, a guest post from regular reader Si White. He shares 10 albums he couldn’t live without.

You may remember I shared with you some albums I can’t live without. The start of what I figure can be an ongoing series. And I encouraged any readers to join the party by sharing their lists or even contributing with a guest post. Well, here we go, first cab off the rank is Si White.  You may also remember he guested earlier here with a post about favourite films - so thanks again Si. Doing the hard yards of a very supportive, kind, regular reader. I am grateful. So, over to Si White today. And my thanks to him. Great selections too. Enjoy! I’ll be back at the end with our regular weekly playlist of course…

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I am a product of my era, my generation. When deciding on albums for this list I kept thinking "I want to add more modern albums, or some really old, obscure stuff. I don't want to be that guy sitting in his 'man-cave' listening to John Cougar Mellencamp songs about how he peaked at 16 and crying into his craft beer"*. Nonetheless, when I whittled the list down to 10 albums I really can't live without – I kept coming back, mostly, to the music that was there during those key points in life, mainly my teenage years. Albums that sparked a life-long obsession with music. A lot of these records were released within just two years of each other. So if this reads like it was written by a middle-aged white cis male, who was an angsty teen in the 90s – it was. I guess I have to admit that I am stuck in the past, like all of us are, in some way. Locked into that era in which we grew up. When life was new, music was thrilling, and the world opened up for us. Damn, now I sound like a Mellencamp tune.

• Faith No More - Angel Dust (1992)

Full disclosure - I am a Faith No More 'Stan'. Most people who know me would probably say it is one of my defining characteristics. I have a collection of hundreds of items: CDs, cassettes and vinyl; tees and patches; books of varying quality – right through to borderline ridiculous items such as the recently released FNM based role playing game and even a set of bubble gum cards featuring individual band members released in Argentina in the 90s (like I said, borderline ridiculous!) So it's no surprise that they would feature on this list – though I have restrained myself enough to include only this album, my personal favourite. Strangely, I had no time for the band when I first heard them, even going so far as to have an outright distaste for 'Epic' when it was released. A few years later however, when some friends at school mentioned they were going to see the band on their Angel Dust tour here in Wellington, I decided – through a mixture of open-mindedness and FOMO – to beg my parents to buy me a ticket. They acquiesced, and that night my life changed. From the moment they took the stage, there was something about the performance (vocalist Mike Patton wrapping himself up in the mic cord and writhing on the ground like the fish out of the Epic video), combined with the progression of the band's sound (the opening track 'Land of Sunshine' was nothing like 'Epic'), that let me know these guys were special. That night I became a card-carrying FNM/Patton fanboy for life. After the gig, I could not stop listening to Angel Dust. Hearing/feeling the songs in a new light – forever associating them with the exhilaration of that live performance. The album is heavier and darker than its predecessor, while hinting at the genre-defiance that would become more prominent in their future work. For me it's this combination of styles and elements of this album that made such an impact at the time, and is what makes FNM stand out from their peers. Moving effortlessly from ‘Caffeine’ with its extreme riffing and screaming, through to what might now be called alt-country on ‘RV’ and even ‘Easy’ listening – excuse the pun. The juxtaposition of these different styles, musicians at their absolute peak, and a weird array of lyrical topics (Madonna, sibling rivalry, Scientology... and, erm, swallowing semen?) make for an album that is always interesting. I've literally listened to it thousands of times and I'm still getting some new out of it 30+ years later. 

• Beastie Boys - Ill Communication (1994)

A friend told me recently that one of his first memories of me was from our first year at college, when he was playing an early Beastie Boys album on tape in the classroom. Apparently I proceeded to switch off the tape, announce loudly to the class 'What is this shit!?' and throw the tape over my shoulder, before putting on some sounds of my own. Strange it is, that after this inauspicious start, that same friend would be best man at my wedding 30-odd years later, and I would be a fully fledged Beasties fan. That fandom really started with this record, their fourth studio album, which came out at the height of the Beasties’ powers. In 1994 there really wasn't anyone cooler. They had fully shed their frat-boy, misogynistic personas – always just a misguided marketing exercise – and worked their way back from relative obscurity to become one of the most influential acts of the era. From the opening jazz-flute sample on ‘Sure Shot’, the energy and positivity of the album is clear. There's still a hint of braggadocio in the lyrics, but it's more than matched by positive messages, humour (mashed potatoes anyone?) as well as the spiritual side of MCA's rhymes, who by now was a committed Buddhist and activist. There's also the undeniable progression of the group as musicians, showcased on instrumentals like ‘Bobo on the Corner’ and ‘Sabrosa’, as well as one of the greatest music videos ever made. When I listen to this album these days, the overall sense I get is of a group of best friends who love each other, using their talents to the absolute best of their abilities, being honest and having the time of their lives. It never fails to Iift my spirits. 

• Alice in Chains - Dirt (1992)

The first inkling I had of Alice in Chains was seeing the band logo written on an older kid's bag at school – I remember thinking the name sounded a bit creepy, maybe even frightening. A year or two later, a friend returned from a holiday overseas with an unexpected gift – a cassette of the newly released album 'Dirt'. Having not heard anything from the band before, I wasn't sure what to expect. From the explosive first notes of 'Them Bones' I was hooked. Here was something familiar to me in terms of the 'grunge' sound of the time, but they had something(s) else that made them stand out from the pack. In particular the voice of lead vocalist Layne Styley, combined with that of singer/guitarist (and lynchpin of the band) Jerry Cantrell. Their melodies were unusual compared to what I had been used to hearing in the 'hard rock' music I had been listening to before (Guns n' Roses, Aerosmith, et al), but what really stood out was the harmonies between the two singers. Layne's huge dominant tones combined with Jerry's softer, more conventional voice became more than the sum of its parts. The pair also shared lyrical duties, most notably Cantrell penning the Vietnam epic 'Rooster', while Stayley's lyrics spoke of the depths of the despair associated with drug addiction. This was a vague and edgy idea to me at that age, perhaps even cool and enticing in a perverse way. Now, with 30 years' perspective, my own experiences with addiction in tow, and the knowledge of Stayley's tragic and ultimately unnecessary demise, I hear his words as a sad and cautionary warning - they are still, however, a large part of what makes "Dirt" so compelling. I was finally able to hear these songs played live when the band played in Auckland for the first time in 2019, just prior to the pandemic ruining live music for us all for a few years. Even after 30 years, and without Layne singing, the songs from this album stood out in the setlist and gave me a renewed appreciation and enthusiasm for the album. I'm grateful that, unlike Layne, I was largely able to put my addictions behind me and so will, hopefully, have the chance to listen to Dirt for another 30 years. 

• Mr Bungle - California (1999)

Being the aforementioned Patton freak that I am, it was natural that after jumping on the FNM bandwagon, I would check out Mr Bungle, the band he was in prior to, and after, joining. The core members – Patton, Trey Spruance (guitar) and Trevor Dunn (bass) – grew up together in small town California. Along the way they picked up a few additional members, most notably one of the unsung heroes of the band 'Bär' McKinnon (who now resides across the ditch and is doing great things with his group Umlaut). When Patton hit the big time with FNM he took his opportunity to get Mr Bungle signed to a major label and release their first eponymous album. While that album was certainly avant-garde in a lot of ways, its roots were firmly grounded in the metal that the band members grew up listening to. The follow up album, "Disco Volante", was described by the band as "an exercise in extreme songwriting", and while it has its high points (and a little plagiarism) - for me, It wasn't until 2000 that they reached their zenith with the masterpiece that is "California". The album has a much more polished sound and a greater emphasis on melody and song structure than its predecessors, but having said that it is still absolutely batshit crazy. Starting with the smooth-jazz/easy listening vibe of "Sweet Charity", in true Mr Bungle form, the album twists and turns through almost every imaginable style of music (and possibly some previously unimaginable ones) as well as the extremes of Patton's legendary vocal range. Every time I listen it's like being on a musical amusement park ride, with a thrilling surprise around every corner – even after 100+ listens. Lyrical topics range from the far future of AI, to circumcision, to, well I'm not entirely sure what some of it means. I recently had the pleasure of seeing my six year old son's little mind get blown, when he asked what the name of the song we were listening to in the car was. "None of them knew they were Robots!?" he repeated back. I could see the cogs turning at the absurdity and existential possibilities of that title, and knew I had done a good job of Dadding that day. 

• Def Leppard - Hysteria (1987)

When I was 8 years old, there were basically four things in my life. Family, school, Bon Jovi and Def Leppard. While Bon Jovi meant slightly more to my impressionable young self at that time (I wore out my copy of "Slippery When Wet", my first record purchase way back in the original vinyl era, and even made my own budget version of a Bon Jovi Jean jacket using cheap iron-on transfer letters from the local Warnocks on the back), it is this album that has stood the test of time. It had the familiar "cock-rock" elements (big hair, cheesy lyrics, guitar solos), but it also had something else. At a time when hiphop was still something new and unfamiliar, Hysteria introduced me to the idea that songs could be composed of more than just physical instruments and singing - sampling was a thing! You could take a snippet of audio from elsewhere (say a Nasa shuttle launch, or a Maggie Thatcher speech) and place it right in your song. You could even sample your own voice and slow it down or speed it up. This was a revelation to me at the time and helped to broaden my mind when it came to the music I was interested in. Much of this was down to producer Robert "Mutt" Lange, who was ahead of his time in a lot of ways. There's a quote from Nigel Green, a recording engineer who worked on the album that I think backs this up: "I think to summarise the recording of Hysteria, I'd say we tried to do what people do now when they record in Pro Tools, but back in 1985 Pro Tools didn't exist".  Ultimately though, besides being another crucial piece in the puzzle of my musical awakening - it's an album of bangers. From the belt-out-loud choruses of ‘Rocket‘ and ‘Gods of War‘ to the seminal power ballad ‘Love Bites‘ and on to the massive hits ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me‘ and Armageddon It‘ – the production, musicianship and plain old feel-good-factor have kept me coming back for more – yes, Armageddon It! 

• Lovage - Nathaniel Merriwether's Music to Make Love to Your Old Lady By (2001)

Another one in the list that continues the theme – although to call this simply a Patton side-project is to do a major disservice to the many collaborators who made this unique album so much more than the sum of its parts. Conceived and helmed by the "Quentin Tarantino of hip-hop", producer Dan the Automator (best known for his work with Gorillaz), the album features a multi-talented ensemble starring Jennifer Charles (Elysian Fields) and Mike Patton, sharing the main romantic vocal duties - all sultry and sad. Then there's appearances from Prince Paul (Handsome Boy Modelling School), Damon Albarn, DJ extraordinaire Kid Koala and even Afrika Bambaata. The overall concept of the record pays a tongue-in-cheek homage to the style of French popular music known as Chanson and, in particular, the iconic French singer-songwriter Serge Gainsbourg (the cover is a delightful recreation of one his). The songs themselves are a combination of dreamy beats, classical music samples, turntablism, samples from an old teen sex education record and a bunch of excerpts from the classic pun-a-minute film Airplane!. Lyrical topics are variations on the themes of sex, love and love lost. The songs are then punctuated by seriously funny skits featuring advice on dating and advertising for "Lovage" (a very effective aphrodisiac, by all accounts). It all sounds bonkers, and it is - but it works. It really works. In fact, listening to the album in full for the 100th time as I write this, I still can't quite believe just how good it is. There have been rumours and yearnings over the years for a second helping of Lovage, but I feel that, like a good Tarantino film - a sequel could never be as good as the original. 

• Massive Attack - Protection (1994)

When Massive Attack's ‘Protection‘ came to my attention in 1994 I was a fan of contemporary hip-hop like Cypress Hill and Beastie Boys. This album (along with Portishead's 'Dummy', released that same year) had the appeal of the beats and samples of hip-hop (albeit a slowed-down version) but with an emotional element that most hiphop lacked. That, combined with lyrics that were much more cryptic and nuanced, made for a powerful new sound. That sound came to be known as (the now played-out term) "Trip-hop", and it made an instant impression on me. It didn't hurt that I was a dedicated stoner at the time and this music fit right into my lifestyle. The perfect music to sit and nod your head to - and not do much else. I hadn't heard the group's first album ‘Blue Lines‘ at the time, but retrospectively I see Protection as a massive (ugh!) leap forward from their debut - moving further away from the early 90s dance influence and firming up their own unique style. Along with the hypnotic beats, a big part of the appeal of the album are the understated vocals. 3D, Daddy G and Mushroom trade verses on some tracks, while guest vocalists stand out on tracks like ‘3’ (paving the way for future smash hit ‘Teardrop‘). And then there's Tricky. While he claims to have never officially been a member of the band, he will forever be associated with Massive Attack, and for me he is the standout vocalist on this record. The signature raspy delivery and lyrics that are just a notch or two above the rest had me hooked and I have followed his career ever since. After Protection, the band went on to bigger and better things (maybe even a bit of street art?). And while most fans would name ‘Mezzanine’ as their finest achievement, this album sits at the top of the pile for me, holding a special place in my patchy, THC ravaged, memory.

• Guns N' Roses - Appetite For Destruction (1987)

When I first heard this album, a year or so after it was released, it instantly put all the nails in the coffin of my youthful infatuation with 'hard rock' bands like Bon Jovi and Def Leppard. I was nine or ten years old when a new kid at primary school lent me the tape to take home and listen to one evening. I remember being blown away by the opener ‘Welcome to the Jungle‘ on first listen and then on to ‘It's So Easy‘ – woah! there's swearing! And, wait a minute, ‘Mr Brownstone‘ is this song about... drugs!?! At that moment part of my childhood ended, my world view changed and from then on this band was my new passion. They were also a secret from my parents. I knew they would not approve of some of the language and would attempt to wrench this newfound treasure from my rebellious pre-teen fingers, so I was careful to listen when they weren't around, or on headphones or at a low volume behind closed doors. Later on in my Gn'R career, my Dad, quite rightly, asked me a few questions when he heard me playing ‘One in a Million’ (from the follow up EP ‘Lies‘) - always a questionable set of lyrics - on repeat. There has been so much written about this album that I doubt I could add anything useful about the songs themselves. But, for me, this is an album full of nostalgia, representing a life-long passion and my own history, alongside that of the band. In 1993 when I was 14, my brother (who is 7 years my senior) gave me one of the greatest gifts of my life by buying me a ticket to the Gn'R concert at Mt Smart stadium and driving us both eight hours from Wellington, on the day of the show, to Auckland. By the time Axl's helicopter flew overhead (it had literally been hours since openers Skid Row had finished their set) and the band took the stage, I was exhausted but exhilarated and it still remains one of the highlights of my gig-going life. There's really nothing quite like being a teenager in love with music, pouring your heart and soul into worshipping these bands and their music, and then seeing your idols right there in front of you. As time went on, the quality of the band's output could never quite match "Appetite" and even seeing them perform these songs again 30 years later, as old men on the reunion tours, the hairs on the back of my neck still stand up. The songs retain their energy and anger. And, just for an hour or so, I'm 14 again and music is still changing my life. 

• Burial - Untrue (2007)

I was living in London in 2007 when Burial  (William Emmanuel Bevan) released this, his second album. I read and heard a lot about it before I actually heard it. Hailed as a game-changer in the world of electronic music, critics and bloggers were positively gushing over ‘Untrue‘ – I was skeptical. I had heard it described as dubstep, which wasn't a sound I was too enamoured with. When I finally heard the record, however, I was surprised by that description. Rather than the hectic dance-oriented sound with the all-important "drops" that I was expecting, this was something much more subtle and ambient, closer to Ninja Tune than Nero. Incorporating elements from dubstep, but also from a range of other genres, including UK garage, house and RnB, "Untrue" blurred the lines between them, creating a sound that, 15 years later, remains distinctly its own. Burial created this (and his previous eponymous debut) at home using Sound Forge - back then a fairly rudimentary audio editing software - a far cry from the modern studio conditions of top level producers. It may have been just that - being one step removed from the professional environment and industry - that allowed him to create his masterpiece. Unconstrained by "industry standards", he was able to break the rules and experiment to end up with something unique and groundbreaking. The 'muffled' vocal effects were unusual, even jarring, at the time. Burial has stated that he was inspired by hearing a neighbour singing through the walls of his London flat, and the view from his bedroom window where he wrote the album, which overlooked a prison. There's also a 'swinging' quality to the beats that's hard to pin down when listening, but affects the overall sound of the music. He has said that, while editing his samples, when the beats began to look like fish scales, he knew he was moving in the right direction. These are just a couple of the many unique elements that combine to create an album that is both dark and comforting, dabbling in multiple genres but never quite fitting the mold of any of them. It's a thing of beauty that stands alone. 

• Salmonella Dub - Inside The Dub Plates (2001)

At the turn of the millennium, after some troubled years at home in Wellington, I skipped town under a dark cloud, hitchhiked south, and ended up in Queenstown where I stayed for the next couple of years. I needed a clean break from my previous life and that included a bit of change in the music I was listening to. I started moving away from the (nu) metal stuff that I had been heavily into previously and began listening to more reggae and dub, which was enjoying a renaissance across NZ around that time. The positive vibes of "Jah" music was a refreshing change from the "woe is me" lyrics I had become accustomed to. I had learned a little about reggae and dub through artists like Massive Attack (Horace Andy) and the Beastie Boys (Lee Scratch Perry) and of course I had not been able to escape the smash hit ‘For the Love of It‘ from Salmonella Dub's previous record ‘Killervision’. I had become a fan of the band through that record, but ‘Inside the Dub Plates’ was next level, and I would even hazard to say the band's best work. Oddly enough, the band had made a point of saying in interviews that they weren't entirely happy with the ‘Killervision’ as it didn't do what it said on the tin – i.e. it didn't have enough dub on it. And while this album definitely has dub at its core, with tunes like the opener 'Problems' and the closer 'Tui Dub' - it still manages to cross several musical borders over the course of the hour-long playing time. The more commercial, radio-friendly ‘Love Your Ways‘ allowed the band to stay on the wider NZ public's radar, and tunes such as ‘Push on Thru‘ and a personal fav ‘Bromley East Roller’ (which came with a bonkers Mad Max-inspired video) travelled between hip-hop and drum n' bass territories effortlessly while maintaining the band's unique flavour. After arriving dazed and confused in Queenstown, over the next couple of years I slowly sorted my shit out (aka grew up a bit) and this album was a large part of the soundtrack to that metamorphosis - which is part of the reason it's still so dear to me. Years later I got the chance to interview a member of the band backstage at a music festival. He was drunk and mildly obnoxious; as they say - never meet your heroes. I didn't let that experience sour my view of the band as a whole though, I still enjoy their continued output and seeing them perform live is always a treat. I doubt they'll ever top this album, but they don't need to - it's always there for me to go back to.

*I do wish I had a man-cave. 

Okay, it’s Friday, which means the weekend is near, which means there’s the regular weekly “Sounds Good!” playlist. I don’t think it includes anything from any of the albums above. But I love every single one of the albums Si has included in his newsletter offering. So here’s something almost completely different from that with Vol. 120 of A Little Something For The Weekend…Sounds Good! Happy weekend to you all.