#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.