Ten Albums Pt. II (or the second 5 albums on the list)

Bob Dylan—Blood on the Tracks

Robert’s second appearance in my list, though this album is markedly different than Freewheeelin’. Bob’s focus here is completely personal, as the songs can easily be heard as a journal of his crumbling marriage to Sara Lownds. This, my friends, is the ultimate confessional/heartbreak album. I remember Blood on the Tracks being in a large box of albums I got for Christmas one year and I was transfixed from the opening notes of “Tangled Up In Blue,” a song told from the narrators view of a woman who’s touch he can’t quite shake (“Split up on a dark sad night, both agreein’ it was best”), his eventual determination to track her down (“So now I’m goin’ on back again, I got to get to her somehow”), and his resignation to his troubadour lifestyle (“But me, I’m still on the road, headin’ for another joint”).

The album takes the listener on an emotional rollercoaster from the heartbreak of “Simple Twist of Fate,” a song of a one night stand in which the narrator hopes, against all odds, that he may find her again one day (“Hunts her down by the waterfront docks where the sailors all come in; Maybe she'll pick him out again, how long must he wait; Once more for a simple twist of fate”).

“Idiot Wind” is a bitter, 8-minute narrative based around a swirling organ riff in which we find Bob lashing out with anger and self-pity at his partner (“You hurt the ones that I love best and cover up the truth with lies; One day you'll be in the ditch, flies buzzin' around your eyes”) before taking some responsibility for the failure of their relationship in the end (“You'll never know the hurt I suffered nor the pain I rise above; And I'll never know the same about you, your holiness or your kind of love, And it makes me feel so sorry”). This is the standard for any singer-songwriter confessional song. Bob takes every failed relationship down through the ages, from Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn to O.J. and Nicole, and nails all the feelings of pain, remorse, and in an 8-minute masterpiece. Chilling stuff.

After listening to this album straight through, I felt emotionally exhausted. I had accompanied Bob through the failure of relationships (“Tangled…” and “Idiot Wind”), the sadness in the aftermath of the failure (the dirty blues of “Meet Me in the Morning,” with the great line, “Everyday’s been darkness since you been gone”), and his reminiscing of better times with the woman who inspired such a beautiful album with the underrated “Shelter from the Storm” (“I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form; "Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm").

The true beauty of the album is that, unlike most heartbreak songs, we’re not told whom to side with. While Bob wallows in self-pity and lashes out in anger for much of the album, we are also provided with hints that perhaps the real victim is the woman in the relationship, a victim of Dylan’s emotional blackmail. We, as listeners, are left to decided whether this woman has broken Dylan’s heart and has left Bob a shell of a man, or whether, well, Bob may just be kind of a prick and he deserved to be left.

Key Tracks—Tangled Up In Blue, Simple Twist of Fate, Idiot Wind, Shelter from the Storm

David Bowie—The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

Never has a single album offered such a varying reaction from people when I tell them it is one of my favorite of all time. They generally fall into two categories, with one being something along the lines of, “Wow, man, Ziggy’s one of my favorites. Bowie is a genius,” and the second being, “Bowie, huh? I didn’t know you were gay…not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Needless to say, it’s a rather polarizing album.

However, looking past Bowie’s admittedly bizarre androgyny, Ziggy Stardust is simply a genius album. Within the 11 songs on the album, Bowie creates a world in which it has been foretold that the Earth will be destroyed in five years (“Five Years”). Into this world comes Ziggy Stardust, the human manifestation of an alien being bringing the humans a message of love and peace (“Starman” and “Ziggy Stardust”). However, to get this message across to the masses, Ziggy is created as a rock star.  “Moonage Daydream” describes the creation of Ziggy from a combination of religion, romance, sexual freedom, rebellion, and passion (“I'm the space invader, I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you”). Of course, as a rock star in the early ‘70s, Ziggy falls into the traps of the lifestyle, whether it’s the daily grind of being a musician (“It Ain’t Easy), criticism for his androgynous persona (“Lady Stardust”), attempting to change the world from the stage (“Star”), losing one’s identity (“Hang On To Yourself”), and the inevitable drugs and groupies (“Suffragette City”). Ziggy reaches the height of his Earthly success and ego in the glam rock anthem “Ziggy Stardust” (“Ziggy really sang, screwed up eyes and screwed down hairdo; Like some cat from Japan, he could lick 'em by smiling; He could leave 'em to hang, Came on so loaded man, well hung and snow white tan.”) Unfortunately, as was the case with many of the icons from the time period, the pressure of fame and the excess prove to be too much for Ziggy. In the albums’ closer, “Rock and Roll Suicide,” Ziggy is battling a drug-fueled depression and paranoia and a unnamed narrator is pleading in vain for Ziggy to save himself (“Oh no love! you're not alone; You're watching yourself but you're too unfair; You got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care”).

Hearing this album for the first time left me with chills, and no, it’s not because I think Bowie is hot or anything. What Bowie did with this album was bring a sense of stage drama to rock and roll that it had previously never known. While there had been concept albums produced in the past, none were as intricate and detailed as this. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust remains the ultimate fusion of rock and roll and the theatre/drama genre.

Looking past all this high-brow, rock and roll elitism, the performances are jaw-dropping. Bowie showcases all of his versatility, singing straight-ahead rock songs (“Moonage Daydream,” “Ziggy Stardust,” “Suffragette City”), ballads (“Soul Love,” “Lady Stardust”), and operatic/avant-garde pieces (“Five Years,” “Rock n’ Roll Suicide”) with equal emotiveness, power, and effectiveness (Okay, maybe I do have a bit of a crush on Mr. Bowie). Mick Ronson’s guitar proves perfect compliment to the sound Bowie was seeking here. The music sounds as if it is coming from a futuristic place, fusing blues, rock, proto-punk/metal into a final product that sounds like it is indeed coming from a distant, future planet. In short, the album makes me want to apply make-up, a rooster wig and pretend I’m a rock star alien. Pretty influential, no?

Key Tracks—“Five Years,” “Moonage Daydream,” “Starman,” “Ziggy Stardust,” “Rock n’ Roll Suicide”

Gram Parsons—Sacred Hearts and Fallen Angels (Anthology)

Going from androgynous glam rocker David Bowie to country icon Gram Parsons? Some may wonder if this is a list of influential albums or a list of people who would have absolutely nothing to talk about if they came face to face. But never fear, we’re still on track and I just have a very eclectic musical palette. If music genres were women, I would not be differentiating in the least between blondes, brunettes, redheads, or even various shades of pink/blue/green for the alternative crowd.

Anyway, I know this isn’t an album proper, but it is the best representation of one of music’s forgotten pioneers. If anyone has a problem with me using a compilation here, I will kindly introduce you to my law firm, Buh Low & Mee. Anyway, I remember downloading a Black Crowes concert in which they performed two covers, “She” and “Hot Burrito 2.” I was floored by both of these songs, the achingly poignant storytelling of “She” and the romantic exuberance and frustration of “Hot Burrito #2.” I immediately ran out to CD Central and picked up this anthology and was hooked from the opening notes. The two-disc package highlights Gram’s recordings with the International Submarine Band, The Byrds, The Flying Burrito Brothers, and his two solo albums.

For me, Gram represents the fusion of all of America’s musical genres, from folk to gospel to country to blues to rock and roll. He was on a quest to combine all of these into what he called Cosmic American music and, after listening to Sacred Hearts and Fallen Angels, it is clear that he was successful in his mission.

Over the course of the two discs, Parsons displays equal aptitude for pure country (“Miller’s Cave,” “Hickory Wind,” “You’re Still on my Mind,” “You Don’t Miss Your Water,” “Sing Me Back Home”), rock and roll (“Ooh Las Vegas,” “Christine’s Tune,” “One Hundred Years From Now”), gospel (“In My Hour of Darkness,” “The Angels Rejoiced Last Night”) and his own brand of music he created with the Flying Burrito Brothers and his two solo albums he cut before a drug overdose in the California Desert. More specifically, the material on The Burritos’ Gilded Palace of Sin and the solo albums GP and Return of the Grievous Angel, encapsulate the combination of all of the various forms of American music into a style that escapes any other categorization aside from Cosmic American Music. The uniqueness of the material actually prevents me from doing it justice in a song by song analysis. To understand his influence, it has to be noted that Gram paved the way for every alt-country act this generation has produced (think: Wilco, Whiskeytown, Ryan Adams, My Morning Jacket, etc.). The best advice I can give any potential listener is to just go buy this compilation. Some of the best 20 bucks I ever spent. If you buy this and you can actually get the heartbreak of “Hot Burrito #1” or “$1000 Wedding” or the American journey of “Return of the Grievous Angel” or the sly humor of “Sin City”  out of your head, I will personally buy your copy off of you. Hell, I’ve already worn mine out so I may buy it off you anyway.

Key Tracks—Miller’s Cave, Hickory Wind, You Don’t Miss Your Water, Sin City, Hot Burritos #1/#2, Dark End of the Street, Wheels, She, Return of the Grievous Angel, $1000 Wedding, Ooh Las Vegas, In My Hour of Darkness, Do Right Woman Do Right Man

The Black Crowes—Before the Frost…Until the Freeze

With this 2009 release, my favorite band produced the album they’ve been trying to make for 20 years and I was given what will likely be the blueprint for my musical tastes for the next 60 or so years. So, looking back on it, my threats/pleadings with the clerk to let me buy it at midnight on the release date were well warranted.

Upon hearing that the album would be recorded in front of a live audience at ex-Band member and American treasure Levon Helm’s barn in Woodstock, I had a good feeling about this album. After the first chords of album-opener “Good Morning Captain,” a lovely little song about the wonders of morning/afternoon sex, I knew this was something special. The songs themselves show a road-tested band at a creative peak, exploring the textures of groove-rock (“Good Morning Captain,” “A Train Still Makes a Lonely Sound,” “Make Glad,”), Gram Parsons-esque Americana (“Appaloosa,”  “The Shady Grove,” “Shine Along,” “Roll Old Jeremiah”), traditional country/bluegrass (“The Last Place that Love Lives,” “Garden Gate,” “So Many Times,” “Fork in the River), Stones-style disco (“I Ain’t Hiding”) and blues (“Kept My Soul”), muscular jams (“Been a Long Time (Waiting on Love),” “Greenhorn”) and even experiments with Middle Eastern stylings (the largely instrumental “Aimless Peacock”).

The band sounds equally adept at pulling off each of these genres. After three years with the same line-up (a long time in Crowe-land), we see a confident Rich Robinson leading the band through this two-album journey with a rock-solid rhythm section in place (bassist Sven Pipien and drummer Steve Gorman) and guitarist Luther Dickinson stepping to the forefront after his tentativeness on their previous effort, Warpaint, and ripping off blazing leads on “Good Morning Captain,” “Been a Long Time…,” and the Led Zeppelin III-esque “Make Glad.” Dickinson also shows his ability to scale back and play with an almost pleading tone on rustic, easygoing material such as “Appaloosa,” “Houston Don’t Dream About Me,” “The Shady Grove,” “Greenhorn,” and “Roll Old Jeremiah.” Guest Larry Campbell adds the finishing flourishes to this masterpiece on many songs, such as his banjo on “Good Morning Captain,” fiddle on “Aimless Peacock” and “Garden Gate,” and superb pedal steel on “So Many Times,” and “Roll Old Jeremiah.”

Chris Robinson’s voice is perfectly suited for the music on the album, as he is able to balance straight-ahead blues/soul singing for the albums more rocking material and the more country-leaning material. I also loved the lyrics to the album upon first listen, as Robinson gives us songs about morning delight in “Good Morning Captain” (“I wish there was another way, but my baby is wanting me to roll around in her bed all day”), the excess of big-city life in “I Ain’t Hidin’” (“Line at the Bathroom, line at the bar; Take it outside, do the rest in the car”) and “Kept My Soul” (“You can see right through these holes in my arms, that I still kept my soul”), multiple odes to going back home to simpler times in “Appaloosa” (“Take me home, where I dream my days away”) and “Shady Grove” (Hey boys up on high, don’t get stopped ‘fore you reach the sky; hey boys let it ring, a song for everyone to sing”), love lost in “A Train Still Makes a Lonely Sound” (“Way out West is where I’m goin, to forget the one I left behind”), “The Last Place that Love Lives” (It’s the last place that love lives; behind your eyes”) and “Shine Along” (If you her out on some Friday night, tell her I don’t miss her; won’t you tell her time is treatin’ me right), love kept in “Greenhorn” (“I wanna wake up in the mornin’, wake and look into your eyes”).

Combining the exploration of music’s wonderful genres, the unparalleled musicianship of a band with 20 years of road experience and the voice and lyrics of the best singer of my generation, with the general feeling of optimism and positive vibes flowing from the record, Before the Frost…Until the Freeze sums up my musical taste and much of my philosophy on life in general in two albums of pure majesty.

Key Tracks—Good Morning, Captain, Been a Long Time (Waiting On Love), A Train Still Makes a Lonely Sound, I Ain’t Hidin’, Make Glad, The Shady Grove, Shine Along, Roll Old Jeremiah, Greenhorn

TBD

I spent many hours (a slightly embarrassing number, actually) thinking about which of the scores of albums that I love should go in this spot. After not being able to come to a consensus of one on the topic, the proper conclusion went Chris Brown on me and slapped me in the face (too soon?). The reason I couldn’t figure out which album belonged here was because I haven’t heard it yet.

And therein lies the beauty of music and my fascination with and love for it. Musical tastes continually evolve over a lifetime. You never know when you will hear a song that will stop your heart and give you chills and research that artist and their influences. Music, for those who care about it like I do, is a continuing journey filled with countless breathtaking moments and pleasant surprises. I mean, if you told me six or seven years ago that I would be enjoying a southern-rock band doing a cover of Gram Parsons covering an Aretha Franklin song in a pure country style (“Do Right Woman, Do Right Man”), I would have told you that you were nuts and cranked up Aerosmith’s Rocks to an even louder volume. Music is a beautiful ride if you choose to let it take you wherever it may.