#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"