#42 Simon & Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water (January 26, 1970)

The first time I saw this album cover, I mistook Paul Simon's hair for a sweet handlebar mustache hanging from Art Garfunkel's upper lip. Go ahead, place your finger over Paul's face and tell me Garfunkel doesn't look like a Civil War soldier in a Ken Burns documentary.

What stands out about this record is the way most of the songs tend to grow from a simple melody partnered with quiet vocals into a full aureately orchestral assailment. The reassuring title track climbs its way to a level of triumphant sentimentality while "The Only Living Boy in New York" proved its poignancy long before Zach Braff turned it into a melancholic anthem of uncertainty for teenagers and twenty-somethings alike.

"Cecilia", a playful tale of female abandonment, is driven by a layered mix of instrumental and manual percussion. And "The Boxer" is a prime example of the impeccable harmony shared by the greatest folk duo ever.

favorite song: "Cecilia"

#41 The Rolling Stones - Let It Bleed (November 28, 1969)

And I've reached the end of the 60's. Apart from the 39 records I own from that decade, most of them classics, there's hundreds more that make it an unbelievable era for music. But I have about double that number from the 70's so I have that to look forward to.

I always thought the title of this album was a humorous allusion to The Beatles' Let It Be, but this record pre-dates that one by about six months so I guess it's just a coincidence. But regardless, those two titles seem to perfectly encapsulate the difference between these bands; the Stones were always willing to get a little dirtier.

On the cover, a cake rests atop four more layers: a tire, a pizza, a clock, and a film canister. I'm sure all these are representative of something, but I have no clue. Either way, it looks pretty cool.

And the music? "Gimmie Shelter" slowly builds with an unsettling guitar and howl that just crawls into your ears. Keith Richards changed things up a lot on this album, making every riff seem to cry out with a heavy vehemence that dances with Jagger's own gritty growl.

The Robert Johnson cover "Love In Vain", classic and heartbreaking, is attributed to the blues legend's pseudonym Woody Payne on the record sleeve. The album closer, "You Can't Always Get What You Want", features a church choir that seems to poke fun of the band's reputation at the time as a group of satanists, while the lyrics summarize the theme of the album - imperfection is perfect.


favorite song: "Love In Vain"

#40 Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin II (October 22, 1969)

A quarter of the way. Yes, it took me nearly ten months and at this rate, I should be done somewhere around July 2013 but I can say I've enjoyed doing this and I have no plans of quitting. I can't say I won't slip into another four month hiatus, but this is a project I'm determined to finish one way or another, even if I do only have one reader (Hi Samantha). Anyway, Zeppelin, Part Deux:

I have trouble remembering which Zeppelin songs are on which records, due partly to the fact that they titled their first four albums only by the numerical order in which they were released. But also, they have a style that remained consistent throughout their early records. Any song on this album would have fit right in on Zeppelin I and vice versa. And that's a good thing. If it's not broke...

Plant sings with a carnal veracity on "Whole Lotta Love", which makes for an awesome opener to side one but is an odd contrast to the side closer, the sentimental "Thank You." "Heartbreaker" and "Living Loving Maid", Jimmy Page's strongest guitar moments on the album, are forever paired together on the radio while the Lord of The Rings-inspired "Ramble On" is proof that rock and roll can be both heavy and dorky at the same time.

The instrumental "Moby Dick" gives Robert Plant's pipes a break while prominently recognizing the immortal drum-work of John Bonham. And the blues of "Bring It On Home" concludes the second chapter of the heaviest band of the sixties.

favorite song: "What Is and What Should Never Be"

#39 The Beatles - Abbey Road (September 26, 1969)

I can probably say that every Beatles album became my favorite of theirs the first time I heard it. Abbey Road has the distinction of being the first to hold that title. And since it popped the discographical cherry of one of my favorite bands, this album provokes a nostalgic captivation every time I listen to it.

The songs on the first side all distinctly bare the signature of their respective author. Lennon continues to experiment with surreal lyrics on "Come Together" while, with "I Want You (She's So Heavy)", hinting at the grittiness that would later become central to his solo career. McCartney does what he does best, writing perfect pop standards like "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" and "Oh! Darling". The mysteriously alluring love song "Something" is my favorite of George Harrison's and Ringo makes his greatest contribution ever with the just plain awesome "Octopus's Garden."

This segregation of musical styles shouldn't suggest a lack of cohesiveness. The collaborative second side has an infectious and kinetic musical narrative that instantly reminds me of the summer I first heard it.

favorite song: "Something"

#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"