#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"

#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"

#31 Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin (January 12, 1969)

When I first compiled the dates for the list, I was surprised this one came out in the 60's. It seems to entirely predict what rock n' roll would become in the 70's. It's heavier than anything that came out at the time. When I think of the stereotypical Stones fan I picture a hip grandpa, but Zeppelin is the choice of frat boys and young stoners alike. Music this weighty could never feel dated.

Thanks to every classic rock station in existence, Led Zeppelin's music has bombarded the airwaves and made their music feel tired. But, when I put the needle to the vinyl, no number of disc jockeys named Bob or Rockin' Ronnie can take away my love for this band. Like The Who, each member of this band is one of the best ever at his instrument. I don't want to say too much now or I won't have anything more to say when I get to their next few albums. Sorry.

favorite song: "Dazed and Confused"

#30 The Rolling Stones - Beggars Banquet (December 6, 1968)

The first time I remember hearing "Sympathy For the Devil" was when my brother Mike drove me to high school in his '92 Buick. He had made a mix tape of Stones songs. So for Christmas, believing him to be a die hard fan of the band, I bought the compilation Forty Licks on CD for him. It sat unopened on his shelf for two months before I took it for myself. Today it still sits in a CD case on the floor of my Taurus.

Being an idiot at the time, I assumed forty was about the maximum number of good songs a band could have. I turned out to be very wrong, because in a perfect world every song on this album and their next three would have been on that compilation.

It wasn't until I took advantage of the abundance of Stones LPs floating around used record shops that I really started to appreciate them. I have eight of their albums, the most in my collection - tied with The Beatles. That's because they are two incredible bands, undeniably classic yet eternally relevant.

This track listing has no weak link. Every song is gritty, bluesy, and unapologetic; the beginning of a revolutionary and defining era for the Stones. I just wish I had the original cover.

favorite song: "Street Fighting Man"

#29 The Beatles - The Beatles [The White Album] (November 22, 1968)

Each original pressing of this album had its own serial number. Mine is A1606169. It's little things like that which feed my vinyl record addiction. Luckily, my fix only cost me six dollars this time. And for a double album!

This is something I'm particularly happy to have on vinyl. It encompasses the whole range of The Beatles career - every spot on the genius-meter; from the most sugar-coated, ("Ob-La-Di, Ob-La Da") to the most experimental, yet somehow attracting, bits of insanity ("Revolution 9") and everything in between. Even songs like "Piggies" and "Savory Truffle" sound great in their own deviant way.

When there are so many diverse songs on one album, it's hard to pick a favorite. Sometimes I prefer the quiet beauty of "Blackbird" and other times I prefer songs like "Helter Skelter", chaotic rock that proves The Beatles were as cool as the Stones.

favorite song: "While My Guitar Gently Weeps"

#28 Van Morrison - Astral Weeks (November 1968)

One of my all time top five. But I don't listen to it very often. I think that's because it's not an every day kind of record and it works poorly as background music. It's an album that demands the right mind-set and the listener's undivided attention. If you have those two things, it's an amazing album.

I bought a CD copy of this in high school without having heard any of the songs. Rolling Stone or some other publication told me it was great and I'm a sucker for the persuasiveness of arrogant, yet irrelevant critical opinion. It took me a little time to warm up to the style and the orchestral song-structure, but I easily got hooked on the songwriting and Van Morrison's ornately painful vocals. By the time I got it on vinyl, it was already one of my favorite albums.

The first side is entitled "In The Beginning" and the second side, "Afterwards", is jump-started by the energetic "Young Lovers Do", the only song on the album even remotely danceable. Everything else has a sort of isolated mysteriousness, both compelling and uncertain. "Cyprus Avenue" and "Madame George" are poetically epic and their sometimes quizzical lyrics are full of enigmatic beauty.

favorite song: "Madame George"

#27 The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Electric Ladyland (September 16, 1968)

I searched for a Hendrix record for a long time but all the ones I found usually included the phrase "Smash Hits." I've never been too interested in greatest hits collections simply because I enjoy the historical context of an album. So I was happy when I finally stumbled upon a used copy of Electric Ladyland. It's not just a mix-tape of singles; instead the long guitar jams are left intact and offer just a tiny glimpse of the drugs he was on at the time.

It took listening to Hendrix to get me to really love the guitar. It helps to appreciate an instrument when you witness someone performing on a completely different level than any other human being ever. Hendrix played guitar as naturally as the rest of us breath. That's if we're breathing on acid while riding a unicorn through space. The solo in "Come On (Let the Good Times Roll)" is a form of aural intoxication and more evidence that Hendrix has not just solidified the title of Greatest Guitarist of All Time but has carved it in stone and placed it on a mountain so high, Moses couldn't retrieve it.

favorite song: "Burning of the Midnight Lamp"

#26 Big Brother & The Holding Company - Cheap Thrills (August 12, 1968)

Back from the dead. It's been almost ten days since my last update. I was being paid to rewrite a script, and since this blog provides no monetary reward (just a buttload of self-satisfaction), I had to prioritize.

Though it's a crime that my collection has up to this point lacked any estrogen, it's somewhat fitting that the first female voice I hear belongs to Janis Joplin. She had one of the greatest voices of rock n' roll in the sixties, period. Not just for her gender. I still have Pearl coming up so I'll reserve the rest of my thoughts on Janis for that, since on that album she won't be sharing the stage with such dominant guitarwork.

This is another album with an insanely awesome cover. Back when LPs were the sole form of musical property, artists still gave a shit about what the product looked like. It helped that the covers were bigger and provided a larger canvas on which to visually capture and forever label the sounds heard within. It's hard to listen to an older album without associating it with that image. In the digital world, album artwork is as disposable as the quality of the music. But I'm sure I sound like a bitter grandpa, so I will cease my bitchin' now.

Up until the past few years, I had never been one for music that primarily emphasizes the guitar. Maybe it had something to do with my inability to play one, but I had found it boring. I'm not sure when that changed but I'm certain it had something to do with listening to records like this. Songs like "Summertime" and "Ball and Chain" have turned the guitar into an instrument I not only admire but sincerely enjoy.

favorite song: "Piece of My Heart"

#25 The Who - The Who Sell Out (December 15, 1967)

This is another record I really loved when I first got into it, but now it only makes it on to my turntable at best, once every few months.

It's about as conceptual as a concept album gets, each song dedicated to this theme that The Who have sold their souls to the corporate world. And even with faux commercials linking each song, it never feels like a gimmick. Although, the release date does seem somewhat ironic considering it's only ten days before the most consumer-oriented holiday.

But there are some really great songs on here. "I Can See For Miles" may have been the only hit, but that's most likely do to its ability to stand alone. In fact, it's one of my least favorite songs on the album. I prefer the humorous triumvirate composed of "Odorono", "Tattoo", and "Our Love Was."

favorite song: "Our Love Was"

#24 Cream - Disraeli Gears (November 2, 1967)

The first record I ever bought. I found it in a stack of classical LP's in the corner of a bookstore that no longer exists. I bought it before I even had a player to play it on, almost as a promise to myself that I would one day get one. Unlike normal people, my parents owned no records from which I could inherit and form my own collection so, as dorky as it sounds, my first vinyl purchase was important to me.

As far as Clapton bands go, I prefer Derek and the Dominos, but Cream is a lot more than just Clapton. Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker helped the trio pave the way for hard rock and solidify its spot in the future of pop music. "Sunshine of Your Love" has one of the most famous guitar riffs, while "Strange Brew" and "Tales of Brave Ulysses" are just more evidence that drugs were the greatest thing to happen to music.

The cover is an explosion of the craziest shade of pink I've ever seen. Maybe the bright colors are what drew me to this record in the first place. I judged a book by its cover, not realizing it was just the first of many dollars I would waste on vinyl records.

favorite song: "Blue Condition"

#23 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band - Safe As Milk (September 1967)

Before I go any further, I must mention that while searching for the photo for the last album, I stumbled upon the Spanish version of myself. Our tastes are so similar, I'm scared there's a version of me in every country. But what better way to vent about your lack of individuality than on a blog!

This is my second color vinyl, this time it's white. It successfully provokes the unsettling wholesomeness of the word "milk" (think Clockwork Orange) but it also means that I have to wipe the Cheetos crumbs from my fingertips before handling the vinyl. My jeans work nicely.

I'll save most of my Beefheart sentiments for his masterpiece, Trout Mask Replica, but that shouldn't imply that this is a lightweight. The relative sanity is evidence that the Captain was at one time, concerned with being commercially successful (he tried again in the middle of his career but that time, failed miserably). It works on this album, mostly thanks to the young guitar virtuoso Ry Cooder.

"Where There's Woman" and "Dropout Boogie" are forgettable but the delightfully bizarre "Electricity" is a prime example of Captain Beefheart's gritty growl, like Howlin' Wolf on acid.

favorite song: "Yellow Brick Road"

#22 Tim Buckley - Goodbye and Hello (August 1967)

If you've been paying close attention (and why would you pay close attention to a blog?) you've perhaps noticed two things about my collection:
a.) Despite my own bronze complexion, the musicians are mostly white.
b.) This is a sausage fest.
I wish I could say these things will soon change, but this mostly remains the case for the rest of the trip. I've never really noticed it before and I wish I had an explanation that didn't end with me seeming subconsciously racist and sexist but I can't think of one. I guess I'll just have to diversify my portfolio.

I am guilty of not listening to this record much. In fact, I left it at my parents' house until this past Christmas. I'm not sure why, I like Jeff Buckley and his father's music and voice are not much different. And now listening to it for maybe only the third time, it's all starting to click. His voice is of another time, like a medieval troubadour.

This is like music from a fairytale -- folk with a hint of insanity. Even the cover reinforces this idea, proclaiming "He will sing for you his ten tales and then wander till spring." But regardless of his peculiar style, he's a talented poet and the ornate music makes me feel like I'm barefoot in a field on the Shire. I have to listen to this album more.

favorite song: "Pleasant Street"

#21 Moby Grape - Moby Grape (June 1967)

Poor Moby Grape. They were one of the strongest American bands of that period and today they're less known than the Starland Vocal Band. It probably didn't help that this album came out the same month as Sgt. Pepper's.

"Hey Grandma" may be my favorite song title ever. I used to play this record a lot senior year of college and my stoned roommate, Zach, would be terrified of the song "Sitting By the Window." I'm not sure why. I think he believed there was actually someone sitting by our window.

The previous owner of this record has torn off a sticker that read "Includes Giant Full Color Poster" (unfortunately, the poster is missing) to reveal that in the band photo, Don Stevenson is flipping off the camera. He's also holding a giant spoon. Awesome cover.

This is a great guitar album. But a lot of the bands at the time had great guitar. The difference between them and Moby Grape was their concern for melody. This is a band that wasn't just interested in making a lot of noise, unless it sounded really good.

favorite song: "Mister Blues"

#20 The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (June 1, 1967)

Rolling Stone magazine named this the greatest album of all time. But Rolling Stone also left Pink Floyd off their 100 Greatest Artists list. So fuck Rolling Stone.

Admittedly though, they might have been right on this one. This is an album best enjoyed in the chronological context because it draws upon everything that came before while at the same time, destroying it all. It might not be my favorite, but it's an undeniable work of genius.

I'm not sure where to start. The cover is something that can only be fully appreciated on a 12 x 12 inch record sleeve. The iconic faces that adorn it would have me scrambling around Wikipedia for hours, wondering why I hadn't heard of half the people before. The theatrical introduction of this fictional band brings to life an album beyond reality, the pinnacle of pop music as an art. The Beatles found the most expressive way to counter-act their astronomical fame, by creating an alter-ego that could embody their own voice while living in a myth.

The apologetic hopefulness of "Getting Better" is something I unfortunately heard for the first time on a printer commercial. "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds" still kind of reminds me of the Sean Penn movie I Am Sam. If there's one complaint I have of The Beatles it's the different ways the world has chosen to completely butcher their music. If you don't believe me, you apparently haven't seen Across the Universe lately.

Fortunately, "She's Leaving Home" is one of those songs I hadn't heard before I listened to this album (I'd like to see them try and make that into a Pepsi commercial). I'm sure the teenage fans at the time identified with the sentimentality of the song's lyrics. And this is the first album ever to include lyrics, hinting at the fact that these songs are meant to be both heard and read.

My favorite songs are ones with multiple parts. The more wildly different each part is, the better. "A Day in the Life" is one of the greatest examples of it. It's a tale of detachment and numbing isolation, an oddly reassuring notion that everything is not alright.

favorite song: "A Day in the Life"

#19 The Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground & Nico (March 12, 1967)

What can you say about this record that hasn't already been lectured by a hipster in between sardonic scoffs? Oh, I know: this is my first color vinyl. Instead of the usual black, a vibrant yellow renders the tiny grooves of the record close to invisible. The color must have something to do with the solitary banana on the cover. Sadly, I don't have an original pressing otherwise I could, upon instruction from Andy Warhol, peel the banana back slowly and see the eerie pink fruit hidden underneath.

We've also reached another one of my top ten. I love this album; it was one of the first records I bought when I got a record player. The second I got home with my turntable I drove down to Volume Records and purchased brand new, thirty-dollar copies of this and Trout Mask Replica. I don't regret a dime.

"Sunday Morning" is a deceivingly innocent misrepresentation of the rest of the album. But it's not a cheap trick. It's just evidence that, despite the high level of artistic experimentation on the record, these are talented musicians with an ear for melody.

The first Velvet Underground song I heard was "Venus in Furs" immediately followed by "Heroin." The former I liked immediately, but the latter didn't sound like a song at all. This was in high school, before I started listening to music that would make this album sound superficial. "Heroin" won me over quickly through repeated listens and the realization that this was a musical manifestation of a testimony, a love song to a drug.

The hackneyed expression "ahead of their time" never applied more aptly to another band. It's been less than three years since Meet the Beatles came out. Three years. And now today, they're still ahead of their time, and will be until the day that The Velvet Underground is as much a household name as The Rolling Stones. But they probably never will be, and in a way, that's kind of what makes them so cool.

favorite song: "Heroin"

#18 Jefferson Airplane - Surrealistic Pillow (February 1967)

Get out the mushrooms and drop that acid like it's hot. It's time to go ask Alice something while she's ten feet tall. This journey just got a lot trippier. If you need proof, on the back cover Jerry Garcia is credited as "Musical and Spiritual Adviser." And hey, they also have a mailing address for the fan club!

I studied Grace Slick in a Women in Pop Music course in college. I already knew about her intense vocals but I learned that she also wrote the hypnotic lucid dream, "White Rabbit." It has taken my record collection from the baby steps of The Byrds and A Quick One into the realm of full fledged psychedelic adulthood.

This is the first time I've listened to this record since seeing A Serious Man and the anthemic anti-loneliness of "Somebody to Love" is exponentially more poignant. And "She Has Funny Cars" uses a Bo Diddley beat. This record is a lot cooler than I remember.

favorite song: "White Rabbit"

#17 The Who - A Quick One (December 6, 1966)

One of my favorite bands. Long before they were the safe alternative to a wardrobe malfunction at the Superbowl halftime show, The Who were one of the craziest, most unbelievably talented and infectiously energetic bands ever.

The Who, like Zeppelin, have always felt like a super group to me, with each member being one of the greatest at his respective instrument. "Cobwebs and Strange" is a prime example of Keith Moon's psychotic drumming. John Entwistle's complex yet expert bass playing hides in the shadows quietly shaping the structure of each song. There will be plenty more opportunities to swoon over Daltery's vocals and Pete Townshend's guitarwork/songwriting in later posts.

"Whiskey Man" is a great drinking song for obvious reasons.

I prefer the more impulsive live version of "A Quick One, While He's Away" but the narrative songwriting that Pete Townshend employs here hints at the operatic works that are to come.

I bought this album at Autumn Leaves Bookstore in Ithaca, NY. It came as a "Deluxe Set" along with The Who Sell Out. Two albums for the price of one. Nice.

favorite song: "So Sad About Us"

#16 Simon & Garfunkel - Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme (October 10, 1966)

I purchased this a little over a week ago so this is only the second time (I resisted putting "thyme" as much as I could) I've listened to it.

Paul Simon's elegant songwriting almost drowns in the sea of Dylan and Beatles songs I've heard recently but his unafraid tendency to write music that is both pretty and soft is kind of refreshing. When I was thirteen and unwilling to listen to anything that didn't bear a Parental Advisory sticker, I'd never imagine I'd own an album like this.

I love the cultural commentary of "A Simple Desultory Philippic", with Paul Simon doing an amusing Dylan imitation. "The 59th Street Bridge Song" is perhaps the happiest thing I've ever heard. And "Homeward Bound" is full of regretful nostalgia, reminding you that when you leave a place, returning won't be the same.

favorite song: "Homeward Bound"

#15 The Beatles - Revolver (August 5, 1966)

The first time I heard "Taxman" was when the local classic rock station back home was playing every Beatles song in alphabetical order (chronological's the way to go, fools!). The first time I heard "Eleanor Rigby" was on a bus ride to play in a pee-wee football game. I wonder why the first experience of The Beatles makes such a lasting impression. Maybe it's because they are so fucking awesome.

When I discovered them for myself in high school (about fifteen years after I should have) I was furious and astonished that I hadn't grown up listening to this music. Revolver was the largest step their music took towards solidifying their immortality. "Good Day Sunshine" is the only thing that even remotely resembles their first few albums and the experimentation on "Tomorrow Never Knows" was proof that Rubber Soul wasn't the end of their artistic evolution.

favorite song: "For No One"

#14 The Rolling Stones - Aftermath (June 20, 1966)

The Rolling Stones always seemed more masculine than many of their contemporaries. I always thought it had something to do with the heavier rock style but now I realize it's probably attributable to their more misogynistic hits like "Stupid Girl" and "Under My Thumb."

I get this and Out of Our Heads confused all the time, mostly due to the fact that they are both so blues-inspired. But the biggest difference is Mick and Keith became songwriters on this album, penning every track as opposed to only three on the last release.

It's hard to not see this as a link in the chain the Stones are forming. The progression from talented blues fans to one of the greatest bands of all time is only beginning to take shape.

favorite song: "Paint It, Black"

#13 Bob Dylan - Blonde on Blonde (May 16, 1966)

And so I come to my first double album. It seems like every other record on this list is either by The Beatles or Bob Dylan. That may mean that I need more variety in my collection, but it also means that this was an awesome era for music. Bob Dylan released Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, and this all in just over a year. Maybe I won't cut back on all that genius stuff.

The cover of each Bob Dylan album is as enigmatic as his personality. Why he chose a random, out-of-focus picture of himself is beyond me. But the subtlety of that choice is a little more understandable when I look at the iconic shot on a large vinyl record sleeve.

I always forget just which songs are on this album. It's so long. I remember it for "Visions of Johanna" but I forget the humor of "Rainy Day Woman #12 & 35", the eloquent desperation of "I Want You", and the forgivable arrogance of "Just Like a Woman." The songwriting has become more personal since the last two albums while retaining the poetic energy that defines Dylan's best work.

I think on this listen, this became my new favorite Dylan album.

favorite song: "Visions of Johanna"

#12 The Mamas & The Papas - If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears (March 16, 1966)

Up to this point, the pictures I've posted are fairly accurate representations of my vinyl copies. But I had to personalize for this one. This is another record I found at Salvation Army, where twenty five cents doesn't necessarily guarantee the original album artwork. But since my girlfriend recently purchased a real copy and she's the only one who reads my blog (and possibly random members of her Livejournal community, Stay Sassy) I've posted the original cover too.

It's a coincidence that the first song of the day is "Monday, Monday" but it's a great mood setter. The Mamas & The Papas are one of those bands my mom loves and for once our tastes, despite the incredible rarity, coincide.

There's a subdued version of the Beach Boys' "Do You Wanna Dance?", which I heard six albums back. "California Dreamin" is as infectious as the first two hundred times I heard it. It's a catchy feel-good album, despite the fact that it was written by a guy who had an incestuous relationship with his daughter.

favorite song: "California Dreamin'"

#11 The Beatles - Rubber Soul (December 3, 1965)

My favorite Dylan album to my favorite Beatles album. When I said I would look for the moment when The Beatles overtake the Stones, this is it.

They went from British boys next door to drug-using artists with something to say. You can tell by the pictures on the back, dark black & white portraits of tortured souls and for some reason, George Harrison dressed as a cowboy.

John and Paul became real songwriters on this album. The simplistic narrative of "Norwegian Wood" is supposedly emulating Dylan and I can see it. It helps, having just listened to him. Probably the most interesting thing about doing this is hearing the influence of artists on each other proliferate from album to album.

As is the case with all Beatles albums from here on out, every song is a classic. Picking a favorite becomes hard when every song on the album made you say "fuck, that's good" the first time you heard it. But I'll have to go for "Run For Your Life" only because the notably dark lyrics move them furthest away from their previous, unoffending image.

favorite song: "Run For Your Life"

#10 Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited (August 30, 1965)

Ten down. About 1/15th of the way through. It'll be a breeze. And on the plus side, I've reached one of my favorite albums.

Is it weird that the best memory I have of listening to this album is when I was home alone for a weekend with only a gram, this record, and a DVD copy of The Little Mermaid to keep me company? I guess that's what's great about Dylan, everyone loves him for their own reasons.

For me, this was the album where he most confidently defined himself. There is an equal dose of folk and blues and a lyrical coherency that lends itself to his strongest songs. I have a song-by-song admiration that makes me love this album. Besides "Ballad of a Thin Man" I've probably gone through a month-long phase with every song on here.

There's a really long poem on the back by Dylan. There was one on the back of Bringing It All Back Home too. They're not very good. It's a big messy stream-of-consciousness Kerouac pastiche. Luckily he became a songwriter and not a novelist.

favorite song: "It Take a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry"

#9 The Rolling Stones - Out of Our Heads (July 30, 1965)

A charming album, chap. Indubitably. Listening to the British bands brings out that side of me.

Up to this point, keeping in mind only the records I've listened to so far, I'm liking the Stones more than The Beatles. The Stones are bluesier, grittier, and just more badass (badassier?) overall. I know that in the larger scope of things, I like The Beatles more so it'll be interesting to pinpoint the moment that becomes the case in this time line.

On the back of the sleeve, at the bottom it says "Zoom Bass: Phil Spector." Is that true?

According to Wikipedia, yes. It is.

I'm enjoying this record more this listen than any other. I think I'm realizing just how many cool things there are about it: the intentionally humorous uncertainty of "The Last Time", the guitar in "Satisfaction", and the fact that The Velvet Underground lifted the riff from "Hitch Hiker" for "There She Goes Again." Maybe it's the fact that part of me was craving an album with a sound that could be characterized as straightforward 'Rock n' Roll'. Either way, a bloody good romp, my old chum.

Cheers.

favorite song: "Satisfaction"

#8 The Byrds - Mr. Tambourine Man (June 21, 1965)

Only three tracks separate the original "Mr. Tambourine Man" and The Byrds' version in the chronology of my collection. In reality, there were only three months separating the two albums, so they didn't waste much time. And the title track is only one of four Dylan covers on the album. Unoriginality like that sometimes bothers me, but they definitely reinvented each song.

The Byrds were one of those bands that took me a while to recognize. I knew them primarily as a band David Crosby used to be in. But they were so much more than Crosby's pre-mustache musical project, The Byrds were a strong answer to the British Invasion, and they added so much to the musical reformation by hinting at the psychedelia that would soon follow.

On the back of the record sleeve is a lengthy letter written by Billy James, president of The Byrds National Fan Club. Underneath is the address in case the listener would like to write in and join. It's things like this that add a nostalgic charm to vinyl records.

The last song on the record, "We'll Meet Again", is an ode to Dr. Stranglove, one of my favorite movies. They dedicated it to Peter Sellers, Slim Pickens, and Stanley Kubrick. I'm liking The Byrds more and more.

favorite song: "Don't Doubt Yourself, Babe"

#7 Bob Dylan - Bringing It All Back Home (March 22, 1965)

So dawns the age of Bob Dylan in this narrative history of my record collection. I'm not sure about you but I think Dylan has received sufficient praise and commemoration throughout the years, so I'll try to cut back on the whole genius thing and just listen to the music. Don't get me wrong though, I agree with it all.

For a while, "Subterranean Homesick Blues" was my favorite Dylan song, mostly because of the energy of the rhythm and the chaotic lyrics. Much of this album is like that; it's probably the most fun Dylan album. Some of it though, like "Maggie's Farm", is too much and gets on my nerves.

The electricity, both figuratively and literally, of every song is evidence that at the time, Dylan was doing what he wanted despite the watchful eye of a changing culture. And "Mr. Tambourine Man" was his poetic proclamation that he had no one to answer to.

favorite song: "Mr. Tambourine Man"

#6 The Beach Boys - The Beach Boys Today! (March 8, 1965)

There is no better album to listen to when you first wake up. The Beach Boys will put you in a great mood the entire day. And there's no more fitting place to listen to this album than its birthplace, sunny California.

Like The Beatles' earlier stuff, this music appears unnaturally innocent, where the worst thing that could possibly ever happen is your girl won't go steady. But The Beach Boys have this other level to them. Besides capturing the essence of harmonic euphoria, they provoke a sense of real substance. Maybe it's their controversial history with Charles Manson, the use of acid, or the fact that Brian Wilson's bipolar illness caused him to hear voices, but whenever I listen to them I get the feeling there's something much heavier going on than the lighthearted music suggests. I'm convinced of the rumor that "Help Me, Ronda" is about a prostitute that helps the singer cure a broken heart.

I go back and forth on whether I prefer this album or Pet Sounds more. I recognize that Pet Sounds is a more sophisticated and artistically important manifestation of Brian Wilson's genius, but when it boils down to it, I think I just enjoy this album more. The Beach Boys' vocal harmony embodies the style I love them for the most on Today!. Also, I love that the record ends with an interview with the Beach Boys, majority of which is spent listening to them eat hamburgers.

favorite song: "I'm So Young"

#5 John Coltrane - A Love Supreme (February 1965)

Here it is. The only jazz record I own. Shameful, I know, but in the two years I've compiled this collection I've found used jazz vinyl that I wanna buy in short supply and new pressings go for about thirty dollars. Jazz is only one, along with classical, rap, and about thirty other genres that are sorely lacking in my library but in time I hope to rectify that. So shut up.

But if you're gonna own only one jazz record, A Love Supreme is not a bad choice. The way it sounds right now makes me never want to listen to this album in any form that doesn't involve a needle and 180 gram black vinyl. It's beautiful. Every instrument has life; the passionate playing delivers the most intense aural experience short of blowing your ears off. Especially the saxophone, which screams out with such masterfully controlled yet naked spirituality. The fact that this music is improvisational is, to me who lacks any musical talent, a seeming impossibility.

I waited a while after listening to the last record so that I could listen to this at night. Jazz just fits so much better as night music. I think there's just something quieting about it.

Coltrane's face on the record cover looks pretty damn intense and on the inner sleeve is a letter from Coltrane that repeatedly praises God. I don't care if it was God that made him do it, I'm just glad he made it.

favorite "song": "Pursuance"

#4 The Beatles - Beatles For Sale (December 4, 1964)

Beatles, again?! wtf??
Give me a break, this album came out less than 11 months after the last one. And judging by the title and the date, it seems like this album was made quickly, just in time for the holiday season (I read that a while ago, I would never have made that deduction on my own). Despite the commercial intentions, it's still impressive that they put out three solid albums in the span of a year.

Granted, many of these songs, like "Mr. Moonlight", border on background music (I am eating Trader Joe's sushi and adding lipstick to my roommate's Mii while listening to it) but I still find myself singing along to every one. The album's not without its classics - "Eight Days a Week" and "I'll Follow the Sun" - but it's also got some great Carl Perkins and Chuck Berry covers.

All in all, a nice easy listen on a sunny afternoon.

favorite song: "I'll Follow the Sun"

#3 The Beatles - Meet The Beatles! (January 20, 1964)

"And please say to me, you'll let me hold your hand." Perverts. Sure they're all essentially just catchy pop songs, but they are the best fucking catchy pop songs I've ever heard.

I knew of The Beatles' iconic appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show before I even knew who Ed Sullivan was (he was Johnny Carson's sidekick, right?), and I picture it every time I hear this album. This music has the energy that reflects their impossible level of fame. My father's favorite song, and possibly the only song he's ever heard, is "God Bless America" and even he can name every Beatle (although he thought Ringo's last name was Stair).

This is only the first of eight Beatles' albums in the collection (they're tied for the most with the Stones) so there will be plenty more to say about them and their later albums. But, knowing the legendary history of the group, it's still cool to look back at their innocent origins. I wonder if the same lies ahead for the Jonas Brothers.

favorite song: "I Saw Her Standing There"

#2 Frank Sinatra - In the Wee Small Hours (March 1955)

I find it hard to listen to this record not because of the music, but the overwhelming sound of wear and age. I usually love the affect you get from older vinyl, that crackle like a fireplace or the first hit off a freshly packed bowl. But this is one of the many albums I bought for twenty-five cents at Salvation Army, and Frank Sinatra's smooth melancholy croon is no match for the dust and the scratches.

This is definitely music for a mood. It's lonely, it's blue, it's quiet, and it's perfectly made for this man's voice. Certain pieces of art capture a feeling of an era, like Edward Hopper's Nighthawks, by preserving an ambiance instead of documenting the details. I have no real connection to the 50's beyond what I see in movies but listening to this record fills me with the solitude of that time and place. It probably helps that it's 2 a.m., which I believe qualifies as a "wee" hour. And, now that I think about it, that sound of age doesn't really bother me.

favorite song: "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning"

#1 Hank Williams - The Very Best of Hank Williams (1937-1952)

It should say a lot about a person, the oldest album they own. And, being in the running for Whitest Person Alive, it shouldn’t be any surprise that my first record is Hank Williams. There are several pre-1937 musicians - Robert Johnson, Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie – who would probably inaugurate a more extensive collection but I just haven’t come across affordable vinyl copies of their stuff (get ready for me to make plenty of excuses on behalf of my collection in future posts). Besides, my father was four years old when Hank Williams started his career and my father is super old.

When I was younger, the only thing I associated Hank Williams with was that his son sang the intro for Monday Night Football. Besides that, the first reference to his name I remember hearing was the Johnny Cash song “The Night Hank Williams Came to Town.” Honestly, I picked up this record simply because I had no country music in my collection. But I’ve grown to really enjoy it, especially the yodeling-singing and the fact that these songs are great for drinking.

The stereotype that country music is all about how much life sucks is never more alive than in Hank Williams’ songs. His subject matter is dark. Whether he’s writing autobiographically or about a cigar store Indian, everyone’s having their heart broken. I miss when the genre used to be an outlet for misery and rejection, before the plaid shirts of Garth Brooks and the general annoyingness of Keith Urban.

Blame it on the alcohol and pills, or maybe just general depression, Hank Williams was a lonely man. His songs are at once both hyperbolic and sincere, drenched in gloomy melodrama and at the same time sung with genuine pain. The Kurt Cobain of country music. And fifty years earlier.

favorite song: “Why Don’t You Love Me”

record collection: chronological

I did this once before. But by the end, I had little to show for it apart from hours spent looking up dates and blowing away dust which had gathered on the turntable's needle, courtesy of my more rarely played vinyl.

I've added some records and I'm going to start it again - all my vinyl in chronological order. This time, I'm going to write whatever comes to my mind when I listen to each album. It's an attempt to write something everyday. And hopefully, to rediscover something I haven't listened to in a long time. But mostly it's an excuse for me to get stoned and be snobby about music.

160 records. Here we go.