got a lot of listening done today

Johnny Cash—Greatest Hits, Volume 1

Johnny Cash sounds great to me, whether he’s singing “Jackson” with June Carter or in his later years when he was covering some rock greats and turning expectations upside down. This volume of early Cash hits certainly satisfies with the aforementioned “Jackson,” “Ring of Fire,” and “I Walk the Line” as well as a Dylan cover and other great tracks.

Johnny Cash—At San Quentin

I’m not usually one for live recordings but Johnny Cash’s At San Quentin defies my usual expectations and reactions for live recordings. There’s something to be said about the sounds of a crowd having different significance than the usual “woo woo”s you get on a live album when you consider the fact that all the cheers are coming from incarcerated individuals and prison officials. It’s darker, more dangerous and seems more intimate for some reason when you know that Cash is inside a prison singing his songs. Whether it was a little gimmicky or something Cash felt truly passionate about is irrelevant—the reality of the album is that the music is good and the crowd loved it, which makes this record both a good listen and a little fodder for thought. And honestly, “Folsom Prison Blues” and the reaction of the inmates that was strong enough to pull the plug is an really awesome way to end this institution (pun intended) of an album.

Cat Power—The Covers Record

Chan Marshall has a really beautiful, often haunting voice. And this record is filled with that voice—but not much else. Really sparse instrumentation, bare tracks, and a sound that conveys the fact that Marshall is essentially the only musician on the album. I like Cat Power, but this record is one that could feasibly put me to sleep. I don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way. Sometimes I like to be lulled by music. But right now, early Saturday afternoon, I need a little pick-me-up and this record will not deliver. There are high points: Lou Reed’s “I Found a Reason” is a great song and this an excellent cover, and “Sea of Love” is beautiful, delicate, and a track I found worthy of inclusion on a sappy love mix for my wife. All in all, this is a good record, just not what I want at this moment.

Tracy Chapman—Tracy Chapman

What kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t like Tracy Chapman? (Really—your thoughts/jokes are appreciated.) Seriously though, I love this album. Especially funneled through my excellent speakers, the richness in tone that Chapman provides to her music and this album in particular is impressive. This album is real, but not raw. It is beautiful and simple and a great listening experience. Not to be too typical, but “Fast Car” is one of my favorite songs. It’s sad and relatable and really, really pretty. I haven’t listened to much of Tracy Chapman’s newer work but this album is one that I will make a point to keep in rotation once I’m done this project.

Cher—Take Me Home

I did not buy Take Me Home for the disco track list (sorry Cher, not your best). I bought it for this:

Carpenters and Cars

The Captain and Tennille—Love Will Keep Us Together

Okay, this is another album that I will unfortunately not be able to play. This is a pristine, still sealed copy of an album so campy it has a photo of the Captain, Tennille, and two bulldogs on their laps. So, no, I’m not opening it. You know the song. It’s fun. The end.

Carpenters—The Singles 1969-1973

This was an album I found at the best yard sale I’ve ever been to. It was a regular yard sale, but also included an amazing selection of records that this guy in Keene was looking to get rid of for pretty reasonable prices. The guy is a collector, and had probably 20,000 records, many of which he put up for sale at this yard sale his wife orchestrated. I got a lot of oldies-but-goodies, if you will, including this collection of Carpenters singles. Say what you will about the Carpenters, but don’t try and tell me that Karen Carpenter didn’t have a beautiful voice. She managed to have a voice that could sound rich and strong one moment and fragile and understated the next. “Superstar,” “Rainy Days and Mondays,” and “Goodbye to Love” are all on this record, which is fantastic. “Superstar” in particular I find to be an amazing song. I know the Carpenters didn’t write it, but the vocals paired with this really perfect story about a young girl falling for a rock star while he’s moving through her town on tour is just breathtaking. I know, I know, but whatever. Karen Carpenter had the voice of a sad, beautiful, complicated your woman and happened to be a in a band with her brother at a time in American popular music that maybe leaned a little towards the lame. I don’t care, I love them.

The Cars—The Cars and Heartbeat

Here’s the thing about The Cars: I like them, really I do, but I don’t love listening to their albums. I love their songs, but not their albums. The problem for me is that their albums are so full of hooks and catchy melodies that I can’t think of their albums as cohesive works, more like collections of singles. This isn’t really bad, but it doesn’t make me run to the turntable to put on their records time and again. I do, however, feature The Cars on many mixtapes, so their influence is certainly felt. Both of these albums are good, and contain some awesome single tunes (“Moving in Stereo,” “Hello Again,” “Good Times Roll,” among others), but I just can’t say that I loved listening to these records.

**After I rushed to listen to these Sunday morning my friend Dan came over and I took a little break from the quest in order to highlight some good jams for him. I'm back on track now, though.

Bright Eyes, or The Longest Day

Bright Eyes—Lifted or The Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground

Let me just preface this by saying how overjoyed Becky is to begin the Bright Eyes segment of this project. And let me follow that preface by admitting that it is a lie. Although she is loath to admit it, Becky sort of likes Bright Eyes. She mocks me constantly, but actually likes sad little Conor’s music. That said, I should admit that I really and truly love Bright Eyes. I found their music when I was a sad, sorry little college freshman and connected in a way that was only rivaled in its resonance by my first reading of The Perks of Being a Wallflower that same year. I know, I know, I’m a cliché. But my love of Bright Eyes has grown from its sad little roots to an appreciation of what Conor has done over the years that is bigger than my initial, guttural reaction to his morose drunken poetry. Now that you have the background, let’s move on to Lifted. It starts out just as most of Bright Eyes’ records do, with a long intro that sounds like it was accidentally recorded in someone’s car and a droning, too-long, overindulgent and slightly off-key song seemingly designed to deter non-fans from continuing with the record. If you can get past the nearly 9-minute long “The Big Picture” you can move on to where the album proper starts, with one of my favorite Bright Eyes songs, “Method Acting.” “Method Acting” is one of those songs I loved long ago that holds up now, with its upbeat tempo almost hiding Oberst’s sadness and the lyrics easily confused with a positive message. If you take a closer listen, you can see that it’s as sad as ever, but with the drums suggesting a marching band and the arrangement building and finally trailing off, you can almost imagine that this track is a little glimpse into near-happiness. Likewise with the following track, “False Advertising,” you get a staccato snare drum reminiscent of a marching band and a building and lurching arrangement of instruments that makes you feel like you might be at the world’s saddest band concert. In a good way, for the most part. Next up is "You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.," a track that I will (har har) admit makes me think immediately of my wife. I’m a boomerang, you see, and I did return to her. The sad-yet-determined lyrics paired with the booming sound of the full band (which at this point in Bright Eyes’ history had a tendency to be quite extensive) makes for a quick and fun yet typically sad Bright Eyes tune. There is a reason this album is a classic, and this song is part of that legacy. Ah, Side Two. It begins with one of the most Bright Eyes-est Bright Eyes songs ever. Drugs, sadness, empty sex and sado-masochistic overtones? It must be “Lover I Don’t Have to Love.” While this track may be overwrought and a little too on-message for Bright Eyes, it is a genius song. The organ works perfectly with the minimal guitars and you can just picture sad, handsome, bisexually-inclined Conor meeting some willowy indie rock boy after a show and having his drug-fueled way with him. If “Lover” is a little much for you, it’s followed up by almost genuinely cheery “Bowl of Oranges.” This song was, I think, the most commercially successful single on this album and I can see why that is. Not my favorite song, but I am a little sad-sack at heart so you can see why. “Don’t Know When But a Day Is Gonna Come” picks up where “Lover” left off, bringing warbling vocals to a bold, almost orchestral backing sound and sad, sad, lyrics. Sad and drunk are some key elements to the record and this track typifies both feelings. Moving on to Side Three, the highlight there is “Waste of Paint,” another self-indulgent march through various characters with various flaws, highlighting Oberst’s own feelings of a lack of meaning and self-worth. While the premise of the song is a little trying, the track itself is a good listen with the continuation of the large marching band sound present in much of the record. And finally the record ends mirroring its beginning, first with the barroom dirge “Laura Laurent” and then in the quick transition to a rollicking-yet-quite-lengthy track, “Let’s Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and to Be Loved)” and the obligatory trail-out to a weird spoken word segment that takes the full run time of the song to around ten minutes. Lyrical highlights include bits about whiskey and pills and daddy issues. Typical. And honestly, I don’t mean that in a bad way. This album typifies what early Bright Eyes was all about and still manages to be a great record. Now on to the rest of my Bright Eyes collection—I swear I’ll cut down on my word count from here on out.

Bright Eyes—There Is No Beginning to the Story EP

I should actually have listened to this before Lifted but I had them interposed on my shelf. Listening to this right after Lifted may seem a little repetitive, but what are you going to do? There are rules to this project and I am unwilling to break them. Plus this EP has a couple of nice little surprises. It starts out with “From a Balance Beam,” a song I enjoy for its brilliantly layered vocals and that omnipresent snare from much of Lifted. Then the EP departs from the big sound of Lifted and goes into a more acoustic sound with “Messenger Bird’s Song,” a track I could give or take but that does have a really nice banjo in the background. The rest of the EP is good—not great. It closes out appropriately with a Neil Young cover (vinyl only) that is a little rough around the edges but live and drunk and pretty perfect.

Bright Eyes—I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning

I own only one of the two 2005 Bright Eyes releases (the other being Digital Ash in a Digital Urn) for the simple reason that when they came out I favored this one. I’ve since reconsidered the merit of Digital Ash but I do remain certain that I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning is a quality record. And lucky for me, it was much more indicative of where Bright Eyes would go with their next album. In 2005 indie rock was just starting to feel the pull of old-fashioned country influence and Bright Eyes was leading the charge of hipsters in all matter of boots stomping their way through the mid-2000s, ironically mustachioed and clad in plaid. Trends aside, this record is good. There are moments of boot-stomping fun (“Another Travelin’ Song”), beautifully simple love songs (“First Day of my Life”), and really fantastic guest vocalists (Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Maria Taylor of Azure Ray, Andy LeMaster of Now It’s Overhead, and the incredible Emmilou Harris who steals the show a little). As I was listening I tried to tune in on the little things that I often miss when I listen casually while walking or on the train. I really picked up on the quality that Emmilu Harris adds to this record. Conor’s voice is what it is, and it works. But Harris’s voice takes that slightly rough country thing and elevates it to the next level of quality. All in all, this is a good album and I was glad to give it a good listen.

Bright Eyes—Cassadega

My reaction to Cassadega surprised me. I thought I liked this album, but as I listened I found myself wishing that it would hurry up and end—not a great sign of enjoyment. There are definitely songs I enjoy here, “Hot Knives,” “Four Winds,” and my favorite track of the album “I Must Belong Somewhere” are really good tunes. I just found myself feeling a little unenthusiastic about the record. Maybe my next project will be to go back to the low points of my collection and give them a good listen over headphones with undivided attention.

Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band—Conor Oberst

I own one of the two Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band solo project records, and I really do enjoy this record. Conor’s clearly in a certain space here, channeling Bob Dylan perhaps more than he ever does, with his typically rocky vocals (here without the drunken quaver of earlier albums) and a rambling, traveling spirit influenced by time spend touring and in Mexico. It’s a rock-folk record, very listenable, but not one I’d pick all the time. Pretty ideal for background music while doing chores on a Saturday or at a casual dinner party during dessert or after dinner drinks.

Bright Eyes—The People’s Key

I will admit, I was really excited for a new Bright Eyes record. After a couple years of side projects I was ready for Bright Eyes again. I went out to Newbury Comics on my lunch break the day the album came out and bought it in a real store even though I probably could have saved money online. I wanted to have that record in my hands on the Tuesday it came out, bring it home, and put it right on my turntable. I felt like a little kid, in a good way. Now, I won’t pretend The People’s Key is some groundbreaking album that will be in heavy rotation for years to come. But I do like it, and some of the songs are really great. “Shell Games” is a track that Bright Eyes released for free download prior to the album drop in February (on Mr. Oberst’s birthday no less) and I won’t front—I listened to it over and over for an entire T ride to work. I love it. The production is smooth and big, the instruments are crisp and layered, and it has that bit of electronic sound that can work so well for Bright Eyes. The melody is catchy and the song never fails to impress. The whole album shares that big production and I think it benefits. I love old Bright Eyes, and part of what I love is the lo-fi sound they got recording in Conor’s basement. But this album is just so listenable, and I don’t mean that in a disparaging way. It’s enough weird (the audio recordings of Refried Ice Cream’s Denny Brewer discussing his religious ideas that border on science fiction) and enough fun to really work.

Beach House and Edie Brickell: My favorite day so far

Beach House—Teen Dream

This is, hands down, the best album I have heard in years. I’m not exaggerating. The first time I played this record I could just feel the music moving through me. The sound is dreamy, beautiful, real. I’m a sucker for vocals that defy typical male/female vocal ranges, especially those from female vocalists with really deep, low ranges (think Nico) and Beach House delivers that with style. Right from the start with “Zebra” this record hooks you into its world of drawn-out melodies and smooth sounds. When I bought this album (on Newbury Comics’ anniversary, to the tune of 25% off) I came home after work, put it on, and danced. Yeah, you read right, danced. I won’t pretend I’m some great dancer (or good, even) but on occasions when I am home alone and the music moves me, I dance around my little apartment. While this is not some club staple, Teen Dream just gets to me, and makes me want to move around. If I could recommend one album to buy on vinyl, this might just be it. So good I can hardly explain it. Just give it a listen.

Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians—Shooting Rubberbands at the Sky

This is one of the records I turn to when I can’t quite think of what I want to hear. I always enjoy listening to this album. It sold incredibly well, owing largely to its incredibly catchy pop tune “What I Am.” I’ll admit, I bought this record for cheap somewhere just for that song. What I realized after my first listen was that I wanted to flip it over and start listening again. And I did. Since then this record that was previously just a vehicle for a one-hit wonder in my mind became a treasured listen that I turn to again and again. The album flows from pop to folk to sentimental ballad in a way that simultaneously keeps my attention and allows me to think of other things. And one of the great things about it as a vinyl record is its length. Those sides are long! Edie and those Bohemians jam-pack this record with beautiful, fun songs and I get roughly half an hour to a side. That is a really nice thing when you’re working on something on the couch and don’t have a stackable turntable anymore (Sidenote: my first turntable was an avocado green portable turntable made mostly out of thick, 70s plastic. It had terrible sound with its tiny internal speakers but it played 45s, 78s and even 33s if I wanted and it came complete with a stacking function. Unfortunately my asshole brother broke it when I went away to college with my upgraded dual cassette, turntable, and tuner stereo. That stereo was a piece of shit but it enabled me to make mixtapes from vinyl or cassette, which was something I loved to do on long weekends stuck in the dorm on RA duty). Anyway, I’ve digressed a lot here but the moral of the story is that I love this album. The end.

Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians—Ghost of a Dog

Okay, so Record Store Day and my birthday have just passed, and I have a few new records to add to my collection and this project. I bought this record at a store in Kenmore Square with which I have a love/hate relationship. I love the pace because there are just so many records and the guy who owns it is clearly a collector himself and very knowledgeable. But I buy records more to listen to than to collect rarities and quite honestly, the vast majority of the music is old. Don’t get me wrong—I like a lot of music that predates my birth. But most of the music I really love comes from the 80s and on, with much of what I’m currently looking to buy on vinyl released in the 90s or later. This is a digression, I know, but hey. This is my project. Anyway, back to Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians. This is a good record, and I just love Brickell’s voice. It’s clear and bright and whimsical or it’s a little husky and softer and earnest. I like the New Bohemians as well, with the simple, sometimes-twangy guitars and folk-pop melodies. While this record is not as consistently great as Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars (and there’s nothing that can touch “What I Am” for sheer poppy pleasure), there are certainly some good tracks. I would love to transport back in time and slow-dance in a middle school gym to “He Said” or make out to the beautiful, rambling “10,000 Angels.” This album does exactly that for me, it transports me back to a time when I went to school dances, listened alternately to folk and punk music and took song lyrics very seriously. This album possesses a nostalgic quality in addition to its musical strengths and that combination results in a rather darling little jaunt down memory lane.

Boston-Bowie+Benatar

Boston—Boston

My mom used to hang out with the members of Boston. She worked with the wife of the lead singer a million years ago and got to ride in limos and go to concerts and everything. That is really kind of cool, I think. But honestly, I only like Boston for the kitschy, overdramatic tone that they bring to pretty much every one of their songs. “More Than a Feeling” is the most typical example of what I like about Boston: drama, drama, drama. And it works for them—though I wouldn’t choose this record most of the time, I will admit that I’ve put “More Than a Feeling” on mixtapes for girls more than once.

Boston Pops Orchestra with Arthur Fielder—Pops Stoppers

This was an odd-yet-fun departure from rock music that led me to stomp around the apartment waving my arm as if it were a baton. That’s about all I have to say about this one, really. Fun, stompy romp with a gigantic, talented orchestra.

David Bowie—Changesonebowie

I know, I know, compilation albums are lame. Real fans have the real albums blah blah blah. But I buy records at yard sales and flea markets and if I see a great Bowie album with fantastic songs on it for a dollar, I’m buying that shit, stat. Anyway, Changesonebowie starts with the iconic “Space Oddity” and from the first “Ground Control to Major Tom,” I’m psyched to be listening to this record. It’s a funky mix of Bowie gems, mostly upbeat and with a number of well-known Bowie classics. First thing Saturday morning, it’s a great way to start my weekend.

David Bowie—The Man Who Sold the World

I’m going to go ahead and admit that this is an album that I really kind of shelled out for. Nothing crazy, I think I paid about $25 for it, but the excellent condition of the sleeve (1972 RCA worldwide release version, not the original UK cover), coupled with the facts that it still had the promotional poster inside and I happen to love this album made it seem worth the cash. I still feel that way, listening to the slow, building guitars and Bowie’s weird, winding vocals. I am a sucker for a dramatic song (could be related to my teenage theater geek past) and this album never disappoints. I love the drawl of it, the way the songs make you sway rather than bop around like the up-tempo jams on other albums. I guess I’m just a drama queen at heart, and The Man Who Sold the World really satisfies that piece of me.

Pat Benatar—Seven the Hard Way (I bought this after I had already gone through Pat's section of the alphabet)

Seven the Hard Way is vintage Pat Benatar to a tee. Sexy but not crass, melodic but a little “tough,” catchy and fun. “Sex as a Weapon” is a great song and the album is solid, if not one of Pat’s best. To be honest, I bought this record recently because I know I’m going to see Ms. Benatar this summer and my cousin said she has some of the songs from this album on her setlist. I like this album just fine, and it makes for good background music to making dinner, as I think is a lesser-known quality of all Pat Benatar’s albums.

My first misstep in alphabetical order

The Blood Brothers—Burn, Piano Island, Burn

This record marked the first time I had to put on headphones to listen to something in this project, due to the absolute refusal of my wife to listen to this album even once through. Sadly, as much as Becky hates the Blood Brothers, I love them twofold. I know they’re screamy and silly, overdramatic and overwrought. But their music gets me amped up and ready to dance. So here I am, sitting on the living room floor, wearing headphones and bopping around while I write. Every little thing about this album impresses me. The packaging, for one, is amazing. The artwork is collage and colorful, the sleeve is pristine, and it comes with a little lyric booklet so I can read all of the ridiculous verses about blood dripping like Braille and “buckets of popcorn for the cemetery.” Listening to this album brings me back to age 20, in the best possible way. I would list the songs I like in particular, but to be honest, I love every single one.

Blondie—Parallel Lines

Oops! This record was shoved back so I missed it when I was going through Blondie. I actually thought to myself, “Hmm, I thought I had Parallel Lines…” when I picked up Eat to the Beat, but didn’t dwell on it. Turns out I was right. So I listened to this out of order, as a Blood Brothers chaser, with no headphones. What to say about Parallel Lines? It’s great. “Hanging on the Telephone” and “11:59” are my two favorite Blonie songs, both found on this 1978 gem. Parallel Lines also contains megahits “One Way or Another” and “Heart of Glass” and I believe that roughly half of the tracks on this album were respectable singles. “Fade Away and Radiate” is another great song on this album and really, there’s nothing on this album I’d ever want to skip. It’s fun, it’s fast, it’s a really great record.

Blue Angel—Blue Angel

It’s well known and documented that I’ve been a Cyndi Lauper fan from a young age. For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved Cyndi and her music. As a teen, I started keeping my eye out for rarities and bootlegs of hers when I went to my favorite record stores to buy albums for my first portable turntable. As with most music fans, I always had my list of musicians and albums that I was dying to track down (see entry on The Goonies Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) and this was one of those records that I always looked for. I once found a bootleg tape of Blue Angel but gave it to my cousin who is an even bigger fan than I am. I was with him, actually, when I found this record for myself in a little shop in Cambridge. It was $15, a little more than I usually like to pay for used records, but worth every penny. This album, in addition to being a great collector’s piece, is a fun record. It has a really beach-y sound to it and includes a few songs Cyndi performed on her own in later years but with that fun, almost rockabilly sound Blue Angel lends to its songs. All-in-all a record that is better than you’d expect for an early Cyndi Lauper project and one that I’ll listen to again once this project is over.

Benatar and Blondie

Pat Benatar—Get Nervous

You know, Pat Benatar is a fun artist. She had a bunch of hits, but I enjoy her lesser-known tracks as well. The general tone of this record is fun, quirky, and upbeat. I love “Shadows of the Night” but I also really like “Anxiety (Get Nervous),” the semi-titular track. On this particular day in the project, I started my evening at home listening to Pat Benatar and moved on to another 80s great afterward. Not sure if you’ve picked up on this, but I do love the 80s and all the ridiculous, great, and terrible music therein.

Blondie—Eat to the Beat

This is an awesome album. Most of the bigger hits are on Parallel Lines but I genuinely adore Eat to the Beat. “Dreaming,” “Atomic,” and sleeper hit “Shayla” are awesome songs. It’s certainly not a one-note album, with changes in pace, theme, and style prevalent throughout. It’s one of those records where you can just tell that not only did the band write the songs but no one member of the band wrote them all or wrote them alone. It comes across as a team effort, but one that allows different voices to shine through. And really, “Shayla” was such a pleasant surprise—I had never really given it a good listen and now I want to get a tape deck again just so I can put it on mix tapes.

Blondie—Heart of Glass 12” single

I just bought this because I like Blondie, singles, and Debbie Harry (whose photo is right on the middle of the record). It’s just “Heart of Glass” on one side and a mostly instrumental version on the B. Nothing too exciting, but I’ll probably keep it for the novelty.

Beach Boys and Beatles

The Beach Boys—The Beach Boys Christmas Album

This is the only record that I was tempted to skip so far. Despite its utter seasonal inappropriateness, my wife refused to let me get off track. So I listened to a holiday album in March. It felt a little wrong at first, but then I realized that the Beach Boys really did a great job with Christmas. And suddenly I didn’t mind at all; I just bopped my head and kept on.

The Beach Boys—Endless Summer

The contrast of my two Beach Boys albums is not lost on me. I would love to own Pet Sounds, my actual favorite Beach Boys album, on vinyl, but no one is giving it up easily or inexpensively. I look every time I’m at a used record store, but no luck so far. And I refuse to pay Newbury Comics $30 for a reissue. Anyway, I digress. Endless Summer, while it does not represent my favorite Beach Boys songs or style, is still fun times. I really like “True to Your School” and “Don’t Worry Baby,” in particular. My one complaint with this album, though, is the weird way it was pressed. The first LP contains sides one and four. The second LP contains two and three. If I want to listen to the entire album in order (which I do, because it’s part of my project), I must switch records in the middle of listening. Weird. Did the Beach Boys do this for folks with those stackable turntables? Is my copy an anomaly, a result of a mistake in pressing? I don’t know. But it’s weird.

The Beatles—1962-1966

Music enthusiasts will be shocked to find out that I own but one Beatles’ album and I don’t even listen to it much. For whatever reason, although my mother (in case you haven’t noticed, a big musical influence of mine when I was a kid) liked the Beatles a lot, she rarely played their music for us in the car (my chief vehicle—again, pun intended—for listening to music). She did own that multi-tape collection of Beatles outtakes and rarities that came out in the 90s and we listened to that a lot. But this is the one Beatles album she owned by the time I got to her record collection, and from the looks of it she played it a lot. When you open up the sleeve it nearly falls to pieces. I like the look; it makes me feel closer to my mom when I think about her loving music as much as I do, and playing certain records over and over, looking at the cover and inside art until the sleeve was worn. Anyway, I like this album not just for nostalgia but because it holds many of my favorite Beatles songs. “Paperback Writer,” “Eleanor Rigby,” “Yesterday,” “All my Loving,” all of these are great songs. It doesn’t have everything I enjoy, obviously, but it’s nice to listen to. I sometimes forget how much I do actually like the Beatles, so it was good to be reminded.

Day One: Disparate Sounds

I own a lot of records. I love vinyl, really I do, and spend a fair amount of time in used record stores, flea markets, and yard sales picking through piles and crates of well-loved albums. There are few things I love more than finding a yard sale that includes some moldy old collection of vintage albums. And as a result of this passion, I possess a pretty eclectic catalogue of records. I listen to my records a lot, but I know that I tend to gravitate toward certain albums more than others (Echo and the Bunnymen’s Songs to Learn and Sing, The Best of Lou Reed, and inexplicably, Knee Deep in the Hoopla by Starship, to name a few of my most frequently chosen jams). So I set out on a quest, a project, really, to listen to each and every one of the albums I own. I’m excluding my extensive collection of 45s for now, but maybe someday I’ll have a dance party and go through a bunch of those. I’m going to try to write about the albums as I listen, briefly, and toss out anything that it turns out I don’t really like all that much. As the rule goes, when I toss a record I get to replace it twofold. That’s the rule, right?

My collection starts with a record that I didn’t actually listen to. Don’t be jealous, but I own a still-sealed copy of Paula Abdul’s classic 12” single for Forever Your Girl. It’s kind of great that this is how I start my collection, because Forever Your Girl was the first cassette tape I bought with my own money. Granted, I borrowed that money from a family friend, but I paid it back when I got home. I can’t bring myself to unseal the record, so I allowed myself a pass on this one.

Ace of Base—Don’t Turn Around 12” Single

I will admit two things here: One, I really like singles, especially 12” singles. I don’t listen to them often, but I like them for the novelty. Two, I love Ace of Base and am unashamed of it. They’re perfect for singing and dancing and I really love the sound of men and women singing together. Okay, fine, some of the rapping is abysmal and many of the songs are more than a little bit cheesy. But I have a deep love for Swedish bands (Alphabeat, The Knife, Lykke Li, Peter Bjorn and John, need I go on?) and Ace of Base is the rule rather than the exception. That said, this single is a little weak. It lacks the original song and the mixes are not all that special. Next.

Aerosmith—Draw the Line

Okay, so I bought this for the cover art. You know the album with the line drawing of the band, where they look like caricatures (more than they already looked like caricatures at that point in time)? That’s why I bought it. But as it turns out, my middle school love for classic Aerosmith (influenced by my mother’s lifetime devotion to the band) wasn’t all that off-base. Draw the Line isn’t a bad album. It contains one of my favorite, dramatic Aerosmith tunes, Kings and Queens, and the rest of it is solid. Not bad, Steven Tyler and company.

Against Me!—Reinventing Axl Rose

I love this album. Against Me! Has had hits and misses over the years, as far as I’m concerned, but Reinventing Axl Rose was my introduction to the band and remains my favorite offering to date. It’s just a great rock record, with gems like “We Laugh at Danger (and Break all the Rules)” and “Those Anarcho Punks are Mysterious” and an overall tone that rocks and entertains without going too far into the super political message that Against Me! delves into later. It’s a little punk, a little folk, and a lot fun. Glad to listen to it.

The Allman Brothers—Brothers and Sisters

I would probably never have picked up an Allman Brothers record were it not for my mom. When I bought my first turntable (a little portable thing straight out of the 70s—avocado green and all) one of the first things I did was raid my mother’s old record collection. It had certainly diminished over the years, but there were a few great albums left over, including Brothers and Sisters. This record is a perfect soundtrack to Saturday morning, and luckily for me that’s when I happened to fall upon it in my quest. It’s mellow without being overly melancholy, beautiful without being overcalculated. Sure, it contains classic cut “Ramblin’ Man,” but it’s not a Southern Rock record.

Gregg Allman—Laid Back

Same goes for this Gregg Allman record. I’m glad I found it, though. If you can get past the creepy painting of Allman on the front of the album sleeve, Laid Back is a really enjoyable album. The songwriting, typical of Allman, is great. The tone of the album is pretty (pun intended) laid back. And I was surprised, having never been all the way through the album, to find a cover of one of my favorite songs, “These Days.” The version I’m partial to is the iconic cover by Nico. I wasn’t even cognizant of Allman’s version before this listen and was pretty imporessed. It’s no Nico, and lacks the deeper melancholy and nostalgia I get from her version, but nevertheless impresses.

The B-52s—Wild Planet

Nice transition from Laid Back to Wild Planet. Buoyant B-52s certainly doesn’t follow logically the sound of Gregg Allman, but I never regret putting them on. This album features hits like “Private Idaho” and “Quiche Lorraine,” songs that possess enough charm to hold up to the test of time. The album as a whole is fun, fast, and enjoyable—typical of most everything the B-52s put out during their heyday.

Babe the Blue Ox—People

This record, as it turns out, is not so great. I bought it because I found it for really cheap (should that have tipped me off?) and I liked one of their songs from a mix CD someone made me once. The song in question is not on this album and I really didn’t appreciate the rest of it. So People became the first casualty of this project, off to my Freecycle pile.

Bangles—All Over the Place

Now this, on the other hand, made for a nice transition. I love the Bangles, and I won’t even hide it. Susannah Hoff’s voice is youthful and sweet and lovely, and their songs, while sometimes overtly poppy, often aim a little higher and transcend the radio-friendly notes of “Walk Like an Egyptian” to reach deeper, as is the case with “Hero Takes a Fall,” one of my favorite Bangles’ tracks that incidentally starts off this record.

Bangles—Different Light

While I personally enjoy All Over the Place a bit more, Different Light is the album I remember most from when I was younger. It has all the big ones: “Walk Like an Egyptian,” “Manic Monday,” the grammatically incorrect but still enjoyable “If She Knew What She Wants.” It’s a delightful, if a little light, record.

Intro

A few months ago I hatched a plan to go through my entire collection of LPs and listen to them all in order. I've been working on it for a while, mostly on weekends, and have made it through a small chunk of vinyl. It's been great fun, and I've been keeping track of the albums with little write-ups. A new idea popped into my head recently, which is that maybe other people would be interested in banal musings on the records in my collection. Hey, it works for other (to remain nameless) reviewers on the internet, so why not? Anyway, I'm going to post a whole bunch of entries now and then continue as the project goes forward. Before I do, here are the rules I set forth when beginning my quest:

1. I must listen to every 12" record in my collection. Not sure yet whether I'll tackle the 45s.

2. No skipping, unless the record is still sealed and I wish for it to remain so.

3. If I realize after listening to a record that I'm not really into it anymore, it goes to the freecycle pile.

4. I may put the quest on pause if I am entertaining guests who don't want to participate in my quest (e.g., if I happen to have someone over when I reach the Philip Glass section of this endeavor. I don't think it's fair to force that on someone) but I cannot abuse this privilege.

5. I must write at least a little bit about each volume in the collection as I go.

It's pretty simple, and so far it's pretty fun. Here we go!