What do you get when you take a law student with three weeks of rediscovered freedom and a lifelong, borderline obsession with music? You get a music blog, boys and girls. Coming from the musical taste nadir that is rural southeastern Kentucky (I’m pretty sure Three Doors Down could set up an Elvis-in-Vegas-esque residency here and become billionaires), it is a minor miracle that I discovered good music. All statistics indicate that I should have ended up a whiskey-drinking, football-loving Toby Keith fan. Luckily, I only came away with two of those traits—hint: I love Maker’s Mark and the Buffalo Bills. Given the astronomical odds that I would turn into a person with good taste in music, I feel it may be my mission to be a beacon of musical guidance in a musical world that is filled with complete and utter shit (see: Nickelback).
As an introductory piece, I want to shed some light into my musical taste. The following list was compiled after some extensive searching of both my soul and my album collection and consists of what I think have been the ten most influential albums I have heard thus far in my life. Disclaimer: This is NOT my list of ten best albums of all time. This is a subjective list of the ten albums that have had the greatest amount of influence on me from the ages of 10-23.
AC/DC—Back in Black
Here’s the scene: Ten-year old Cameron is hanging out with some of his older cousins and random “cool” neighborhood people shooting pool at his uncle’s place. I denote “cool” in this particular instance as a question how cool these guys were if some fifth grader is allowed to hang out with them. Regardless, I’m hanging with these guys and they’re listening to who knows what when one of the dudes puts in a new cassette (old school, baby). That cassette happened to contain AC/DC’s 1980 masterpiece and my life would never be the same. Was I scared by the tolling bells and slightly evil imagery of “Hells Bells?” A little. Was I confused as to what Brian Johnson was talking about when he wanted some young woman to shake him all night long? Unfortunately, yes. Did I fail to pick up on some of the 4,562 references to cunnigulus? Of course. None of that mattered. What I heard was this amazing force: Two guitars (from brothers Angus and Malcom Young) blasting out huge, singable riffs, a singer with an immensely powerful (if not versatile) voice, and well-written songs with big, sing-a-long choruses about booze, women, and hell. This clicked with me and my musical journey was off and running. Sure, AC/DC can be accused of juvenile lyrics or reworking the same three chords for the last 25 years, but I will always remember how I spent days trying to get the riff to “Back in Black” out of my head after hearing it for the first time and how I spent hours playing air guitar and fancying myself as Angus Young Jr, playing the riffs to “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” or “Shoot To Thrill.”
Key Tracks—Back in Black, Shoot to Thrill, Hells Bells, Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution
Aerosmith—Rocks
The next step in my musical evolution came courtesy of five rough-looking kids from the metropolis of Sunapee, New Hampshire. I had been exposed to Aerosmith prior to hearing Rocks, but it was either the older hits (think: Walk This Way, Sweet Emotion, Dream On) or their late-career fluff (think: Cryin’, Crazy, Dude Looks Like a Lady). I remember picking up Rocks from a K-Mart (remember those?) with some money I had gotten for my birthday from my uncle or grandma or the town rapist or somebody. I dunno. But what I do remember is hearing that ominous six-string bass riff of “Back in the Saddle” played by Joe Perry building up and up and up until it reaches a peak with Steven Tyler screeching “I’m BAAAAAAAAAACK!!” Almost instantly, I’m pretty sure my testicles increased substantially in size. From there, the album never lets up, from songs of funky rebellion (“Last Child”) to earthquakes (“Nobody’s Fault”) to cheeky sexual innuendo (“Lick and a Promise”) to drug use (“Rats in the Cellar”) and more drug use (“Sick as a Dog”). Oh, I forgot, a little more drug use (“Combination”). This was Aerosmith at their drugged out, sleazy peak. Steven Tyler’s lyrics are sleazy, clever, and his voice is one of a confident singer who knows he had, by that time, surpassed Mick Jagger in the Bad-Ass Frontman category. Guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford were both at the top of their game in terms of catchy, groovable songwriting (“Last Child,” “Back in the Saddle”) and guitar interplay in “Rats in the Cellar,” an amazing song that sounds like Beck-era Yardbirds on steroids and a few ounces of heroin. I had found rock and roll’s gutter and I was in love. This was Aerosmith at their peak. This was the album that made Slash of Guns n’ Roses turn down a sure lay and run to buy the album (the same thing happened for me, only swap the willing girl with, well, no girl for 16-year old Cameron).
Key Tracks—“Back in the Saddle,” “Last Child,” “Rats in the Cellar,” “Sick as a Dog”
The Black Crowes—Amorica
I had heard of these guys before (I’m 17 or 18 at this point), but mostly just the stuff that gets overplayed on classic rock radio (Jealous Again, Hard to Handle, She Talks to Angels). I’d always liked what I heard (singer Chris Robinson sounds like a hybrid of Rod Stewart, Levon Helm, and Joe Cocker), but was never blown away. That all changed when I saw this album with a bikini pic on the front complete with protruding pubic hair. After purchasing this album with my Captain D’s money, I popped it into my player and was blown away. I had found my favorite band, and one I would spend the better part of four years following around. The Crowes are the epitome of what I want from a band.
Fantastic singer—check. Chris Robinson’s voice is equal parts soulful, powerful, and emotive.
Great songwriting—check. The Brothers Robinson (Chris and Rich) produced their most remarkable songs on this album. The sprawling, 12-minute salvo of “Ballad in Urgency/Wiser Time” captures the essence of a road-weary band pushing on looking for that good day when everyone can “part the sea.” “Cursed Diamond” is equal parts desperate confessional (“I hate myself, Doesn't everybody hate themselves; I scare myself, Then I tell myself it's all in my mind) and longing pleading (“I wanna shine for you, I wanna sparkle too; just like a Diamond Cursed”)
Musicianship/Talent—We’ve already covered Chris’ voice, which this biased observer has seen as the epitome of American vocal talent. Brother Rich is this generation’s best riff-maker and the heir apparent to the Chuck Berry/Keith Richards lineage, with “Gone” and “P.25 London” being prime examples of put-your-dick-in-the-dirt guitar riffs. Now ex-guitarist Marc Ford may be the most underrated lead player of all time, being equally adept at playing off of Rich (the guitar duel before the final chorus of “Wiser Time” and the acoustic interplay in “Non-Fiction”) and taking his own soaring, Beck/Clapton-esque leads complete with Hendrix-like distortion in the breaks between the verses in “Gone,” and the blistering solos in “She Gave Good Sunflower.” Laying the foundation for this all is the rock-solid foundation laid by drummer Steve Gorman, the man Jimmy Page deemed to be worthy to fill the kit once held by the immortal John Bonham. Keyboardist Eddie Harsch provides one of my favorite piano-riff driven songs of all time (“Descending”).
Needless to say, I played this album repeatedly. In my car. While running. In the shower. During sex (kidding—sorta). This was the album that propelled music to the forefront of my life and ultimately sent me to 10 Crowes shows from 2007-2010 and led several of my friends to wonder if my ultimate goal was to get onto the tour bus and bang the Robinsons. Yeah, this was an important album.
Key tracks—“Ballad In UrgencyàWiser Time,” “Cursed Diamond,” “She Gave Good Sunflower,” “Gone,” “Descending”
The Rolling Stones—Exile on Main St.
Here’s where this gets tough. What the hell can I add that hasn’t already been said about the album which has probably received more media coverage/commentary than any other in the history of music? Can I really add anything of substance to an album David Fricke recently wrote another in-depth piece about? Attempting to do so would be like me going to Tommy Lee to give him tips on being, um, well-endowed.
What I can do, however, is give an account of what the album means to me in a subjective sense. I loved the Stones and thought Keith Richards was the definition of swash-buckling rock star. And then I bought Exile on Main St. I didn’t get it at first. In fact, I thought it kinda blew. The sound was muddy, the album seemed to be too long, and Jagger’s vocals are buried deep in the mix. After giving it a few spins, I still wasn’t convinced.
A funny thing happened on about my 14 1/2th listen. Something clicked. A switch flipped. I was listening to Jagger’s ode to Richards (“Torn and Frayed”) and it felt like the music gods sent a shock through my body and I was no longer unwashed. It all made sense. This is the quintessential Album. The sound isn’t muddy; It’s the sound of a group holing up in a French mansion and recording an album at the peak of their rebellion. It’s not too long. Every song on the album adds something, whether it’s the break-neck tour of America in the proto-punk of “Rip This Joint,” the sly political twist of the album in “Sweet Black Angel,” the gospel overtones and redemptive lyrics of “Shine a Light,” or even the quick folk/blues romp of “Turd on the Run.” Jagger’s voice isn’t buried in the mix; it blends in as one of the instruments and becomes powerful in its own way. He’s at the top of his lyrical game here, combining humor (“Tumbling Dice,” “Casino Boogie,” and “Sweet Virginia”), angst (“Rocks Off,” “Ventilator Blues”) and redemption/longing (“Loving Cup,” “Let it Loose,” “Shine a Light”). His vocal on the underrated “Let it Loose” is the standard for that of the longing, soulful, pleading singer.
“Exile…” has it all. The opener, “Rocks Off,” is the ultimate disenchanted rock star song (“The sunshine bores the daylights outta me”). “Tumbling Dice” is a rollicking trip through a raunchy casino/riverboat and makes me want to catch the next plane to Vegas and blow thousands of dollars on gambling and fast women every time I hear it (luckily, I don’t have thousands of dollars). The Stones delve into the roots of American folk/country in “Sweet Virginia,” “Torn and Frayed,” and “Stop Breakin’ Down,” and put their own definitive stamp on Americana. “Torn and Frayed” will be played at my funeral; if it’s not, my ghost will be piiiiised. “All Down the Line” reminds us that no one does straight ahead rock better than the Stones and gives us one of the defining Keef riffs.
In short, Exile on Main St. is everything that an album should be. That’s the best way to describe it. Buy it. Listen to it. Listen to it again. Listen until you “get it.”
Key Tracks—“Tumbling Dice,” “Rocks Off,” “Let it Loose,” “Shine a Light,” “Torn and Frayed,” “Loving Cup,” “All Down the Line,” and “Sweet Virginia.”
Bob Dylan—The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan
Before I heard this album, I thought good music could only be produced with a singer, two guitars, bass, drums, and perhaps a keyboard. Robert Zimmerman changed all of that nonsense. By the time I got into Bob, I was in college and I think Dylan is required listening for any new college student (I think this album and a couple ounces of weed were in my Welcome to School packet waiting for me in my first dorm room).
This is my ultimate man-and-a-guitar album. The inquisitive “Blowin in the Wind” gets lumped in with the label “60s protest song” all too often, but is really just an emotional plea for any oppressed group that will be relevant from now until the end of time. Political commentary also flows from the angry “Masters of War,” where Dylan unleashes a bitter attack on those who control the weaponized destruction of man without ever seeing the front lines. The peculiar strumming of the guitar and the sheer contempt in Dylan’s vocal delivery give the song an ominous sense of foreboding which will send chills down your spine, provided you have a soul and all. “A Hard Rain’s a Gonna Fall” is almost indescribable. It’s one of the most powerful and complex songs ever written, written in a question-answer format that foretells the ultimate destruction of man via some inevitable force. The final verse says everything there has ever been to say in music. No one will ever top this song; it’s like the Michael Jordan of folk songs.
The versatility sets this album apart from the other folk albums of the 60s. Bob’s humor is on full display, especially in the absurdist, improvised musings in “Bob Dylan’s Blues,” and the satirical “Talkin’ World War III Blues,” in which Dylan takes the talking blues format and shows the absurd and humorous side of nuclear hysteria (“I said, “Howdy friend, I guess there’s just us two”; He screamed a bit and away he flew, Thought I was a Communist”). The contrast between “WW III Blues” and “Hard Rain” are the perfect illustration of Dylan’s mastery of songwriting. He can be profound and complex, while at the same time making you laugh your ass off all while singing about the same subject.
Bob’s dalliance with Suze Rotolo gave the world the ultimate break-up song. “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” is simply brilliant. A self-pitying song for any man who feels he has been wronged by some harlot (“I give her my heart but she wanted my soul; But don’t think twice, it’s all right”), Bob goes into “Eff-You Mode” and you just want to hunt down the woman who made him feel this way and yell obscenities at the tramp. The hallmark of any song is the sense of emotion it incites, and “Don’t Think Twice…” inflames the senses and causes us to question how we could ever be naïve enough to think romance really exists. Wistful nostalgia is the theme of one of the albums other central songs. “Girl From the North Country” takes the Scarborough Fair melody and spins a tale about a protagonist wondering aloud about a past love. The song is melancholy (“I wonder if she remembers me at all, many times I’ve often prayed”) but there is a subliminal sense of optimism in that the song reinforces the notion of the existence of true love.
Freewheelin’ represents Dylan’s leap from folk interpreter to master songwriter with complete dominion over the poetic muse. For me, the album represents a transition from a pure rock and roll fan to a true student of music. The album proved to me that one man can break your heart with one line and send you into a seething anger with another and make you fear for the fate of mankind with another. All you need is a man and a guitar. And a little genius.
Key Tracks—“A Hard Rain’s a Gonna Fall,” “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” “Girl From the North Country,” “Talkin’ World War III Blues,” “Blowin’ in the Wind”
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