#38 Santana - Santana (August 1969)

Until I was about fourteen, I knew Santana only as that old guitar player who did a duet with Rob Thomas. And since "Smooth" plagued the airwaves in the summer of 1999, playing every six seconds, I grew to hate it. When I started listening to classic rock stations in high school, I began associating Santana more accurately with songs like "Evil Ways" and "Oye Como Va." I didn't particularly love those songs, so I'm still somewhat puzzled by what compelled me to buy this record. Perhaps it was a desire for my collection to have a little Latin flare. That must be it.

Or maybe it was the cover. At first, it appeared to be a fairly generic sketch of a lion with an out-of-control mane. But when I looked closer, I counted no less than nine faces and other body parts hidden among the feline's face, including a pair of breasts concealed by the bottom set of teeth.

As for the music, I admittedly appreciate it more under the suggestion of elevating agents. Drugs. But that shouldn't imply this is a record only enjoyed in such a state (despite the fact that its creation owes a good amount to the musicians' use of acid.) The guitar playing is passionate and the talent of all the players comes across in the jazz-inspired improvisation.

favorite song: "Shades of Time"

#37 Captain Beefheart - Trout Mask Replica (June 16, 1969)

Obviously I took a long break from this project. I lost, along with some other things, the motivation to be creative in blog form. I also, deep down, believe I put things on hold because a part of me was aware this album was coming up and I had no idea what the fuck I was going to say about it.

I wish I could describe the first listen in detail. I hated it. After five listens, I was afraid of it. After ten listens, I was intrigued by it. After fifteen listens, I made a sandwich. And by about listen number twenty, I loved it. Trout Mask Replica became an album I couldn’t stop listening to and talking about and reading about; my fascination was fed by the freshness and creativity of the music and lyrics. It is and will forever be the most original record I’ve ever heard. Mainly this is due to the fact that matching Trout Mask Replica’s uniqueness is, on a human level, an impossibility.

I eagerly and cautiously recommended the album to people, profusely warning of its absolute insanity and insisting that repeated listens would reveal its genius. The admonition was overcompensating since most of my friends felt I exaggerated the strangeness of the album. But I can honestly say this is a record that changed the way I listen to music.

It’s bizarre, artistic, forward-thinking but not without its roots. There’s elements of blues (“Fallin’ Ditch”, “China Pig”), jazz (“Hair Pie: Bakes 1 & 2”), and rock (“Moonlight in Vermont”). But some of the music resembles nothing that came before it. The oddly poetic “Old Fart At Play” and the just plain nonsensical ramblings of “Pena” and “The Blimp” all contribute to fact that Trout Mask Replica is an equally inspired and inimitable work of art.

favorite song: "Moonlight in Vermont"

#36 Johnny Cash - At San Quentin (June 4, 1969)

In a college writing course (the uplifting theme of which was 'Death') I wrote an essay on the music of Johnny Cash and his fascination with mortality. This means basically I got high, listened to his albums, and bullshitted my way through ten pages. It was by far the best academic essay I wrote in college.

A part of me can't help but think of this album as simply an attempt to recapture the enthusiastic brilliance of At Folsom Prison. That might be an unfair accusation but I've always found it a bit unremarkable in direct comparison to its predecessor.

That said, when I judge this album (as I should) on its own accord, it's an energetic performance and documentation of a meaningful interaction between a musician and his most devoted fans. The crowd is grateful, cheering throughout the album, laughing every time Johnny makes a joke or takes a vocal jab at the warden. He gives in to shouted requests with a repeat performance of "San Quentin" and entertains his listeners with the amusing, Shel Silverstein-penned "A Boy Named Sue."

The connection Johnny Cash has with the inmates is a testimony to the bond between artist and audience, a point when the music no longer belongs to the musician but is instead a shared experience; one only really felt in the presence of that passing moment.

favorite song: "A Boy Named Sue"

#35 The Who - Tommy (May 23, 1969)

Oh the things that have happened to me since I last updated this blog. I won't go into them since this isn't that kind of online journal but it's sufficient to say the past couple of months have been eventful. But now it's time to pick up where I left off.

If you knew me senior year of high school, you would've known that I couldn't go ten minutes without listening to this album. I loved it so much I went as far as to suggest to my school's theater department that they put on the musical (and yes, I'm aware of how gay that sounds). I don't love it as much anymore but it's safe to say it'll forever be my favorite Who album.

With a story that includes handicapped senses, murder, abuse, child molestation, religion, and pinball this is one of the most bizarre and groundbreaking concept albums ever. The album's tendency towards eccentricity is matched only by the band's unbelievable talent and Pete Townshend at the peak of his songwriting career. Roger Daltrey's vocals fully embody the character of Tommy and manifest the wide range of emotions felt by the protagonist throughout the seventy-four minute rock opera.

Keith Moon never found a better forum in which to explore his utterly insane drumwork. The subject matter seemed to be born from the psychotic movements of his hands. And once again, John Entwistle's bass provided solidarity and mastery to a seemingly chaotic and scatterbrain piece of rock and roll.

The countless incarnations Tommy has had in everything from movies to the stage could never compare to the original music. If rock folklore is correct, the theme of pinball was thrown in merely to appease a stubborn critic but it made "Pinball Wizard" one of The Who's biggest hits. And that makes sense when you consider that both the narrative of this album and the tumultuous history of the band proves that unpredictability is the only true sense of order.

favorite song: "Go to the Mirror!"

#34 Neil Young w/ Crazy Horse - Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (May 14, 1969)

Photographer Ryan McGinley named one of his gallery exhibits after this record and I can understand because this is one of my favorite album titles ever. I wish I could say the same about the cover, which looks like a Christmas card from a man who lives alone in the woods with his dog.

I've always loved Neil Young's style because he seems entirely independent; unchanging, despite the generations that come and go around him. He's also concerned only with the quality of his music, never bothering with his image or any other meaningless details. He's simply himself. And his music proves it - minimal but meticulously crafted. No wonder he became a golden god to the apathetic grunge generation.

Like every other album around this time, the guitar is king. "Cinnamon Girl", "Down By the River", and "Cowgirl in the Sand" all devote considerable amount of time to the contributions of Crazy Horse, which strengthen Young's unique songwriting and honest, elemental vocals.

favorite song: "The Losing End (When You're On)"

#33 The Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground (March 1969)

This is my third and final colored vinyl. Hey, that rhymed. This record is translucent dark blue, which seems to perfectly characterize this music in terms of chromatic representation. This album is quiet in volume but full of refreshing originality, understated when considering its level of influence. "The Murder Mystery" alone has sparked countless imitations, but none have been so stylistically disordered.

"Pale Blue Eyes" may have been the inspiration for the vinyl's color and it's fitting since that song best captures the overall feeling of subdued isolation. The music has gotten much calmer since their last album, but without sacrificing their defining verve. The songwriting has taken a turn into reflective meditation, mellow yet provokingly hermetic.

Maureen Tucker's vocals on "After Hours" are subtle but very affecting. It's great nighttime music, perfect for that last conscious moment right before you fall into sleep.

favorite song: "Pale Blue Eyes"

#32 Quicksilver Messenger Service - Happy Trails (March 1969)

The guitar albums just keep on coming. When I started this blog, I considered including some kind of alert whenever I came across a Bo Diddley beat on any of these albums. There have been a lot so far, mostly because my collection consists of white bands that idolize the great blues artists. Quicksilver Messenger Service went one step further and, instead of just emulating the blues legends, they made an entire album-long tribute to Bo. And since Bo Diddley is my favorite blues musician, I had to buy this.

I can't say I love this record. I rarely play it. Maybe I haven't given it a sufficient chance, but it sounds somewhat dated. Long, drawn-out, acid-influenced semi-live jam sessions have never really appealed to me. They seemed to be popular in the sixties but, with the short attention of today's generation, music like this would have no audience. But then again, kids these days are pretty stupid.

But what I can appreciate is the spontaneous spirit and the raw improvisational talent of the players. This record isn't clean and the style is far from packaged. Like jazz, it has a certain energy that gets back in touch with the idea that music is an expression of impulsive passion, not something to be polished and manufactured as a product. In that way, it gets down to the roots of blues music.

And the monumental and almost cinematic moments of "Calvary" is something I do love.

favorite song: "Calvary"