A friend recently asked me what my top five favourite records are (evidently someone was just watching High Fidelity). As I cycled through my entire of catalogue of music in my mind, I realized there was no way I could confidently nail it down to five on the spot so I annoyingly began to rattle off a lengthy list that quickly and easily exceeded the requested number.
As I thought more about it later, I decided that it is about time I gave this matter serious and thoughtful consideration. As I jotted records in my notebook it occurred to me that it might be easier if I start to classify my favourite records by decade – and then choose my five favourites from among those. Given that a decade is ten years, I thought lists of ten for each decade would be most appropriate; it’s symmetrical, if nothing else.
I also thought it might be fun to spend a few posts going through my decade lists here. At the end, I’ll identify and explain my top five records of all time.
As my musical tastes really only go as far back as the 1960s, I’ll start there. (Note: these are in no particular order.)
I don’t think I could honestly claim to be a music lover if I didn’t have a Beatles record on this list. The band’s influence on western rock and pop music is massive and ubiquitous.
For me, Revolver is undoubtedly their best record. Sub-consciously, my judgment is likely influenced by the fact my favourite Beatle gets track one billing on the record. Revolver also includes what I think is the best song Paul McCartney ever wrote (“Eleanor Rigby”). Most of all, I think it’s track-for-track their most consistent and enjoyable record to listen to.
Kinks – Something Else by the Kinks (1967)
I think the Kinks are probably my favourite pre-punk era band. Something Else is my favourite Kinks record, which is saying something considered their prodigious and impressive recording output, especially in the 1960s.
Truth be told, my gateway into the Kinks was the Jam. The Jam’s cover of “David Watts” on All Mod Cons led me to pick up this record and I never looked back. It’s obvious that Paul Weller is heavily influenced by Ray Davies and, therefore, no surprise to me that I’d fall hard for this band.
Something Else is a tremendously interesting record – largely due to the fact it represented a marked shift in the band’s sound and songwriting. Some people have described it as the band going “pastoral”. While I’m not sure it’s entirely fair (“David Watts”, “Death of a Clown”, “Situation Vacant”, “Love Me ‘Till the Sun Shines” definitely hold up to the earlier mod rock), it’s easy to see why people think so. The band definitely takes the foot off the gas, turns down the guitars and turns up the harmonies on a number of tracks that wistfully evoke a quieter, more peaceful existence. Speaking of which, “Waterloo Sunset” might be the best pop song ever written.
Although the Kinks’ first few records (Kinks, Kinda Kinks, Kink Kontroversy) have some stand out tracks (“You Really Got Me”, “Tired of Waiting For You” and “Where Have All the Good Times Gone”) the band didn’t release a comprehensively great record until Face to Face. For the most part, it’s a cohesive record that doesn’t obviously sag as their earlier records do in places.
A few of my favourite Kinks songs are on this record – “Party Line”, “Rosie Won’t You Please Come Home”, “Dandy” and “Sunny Afternoon”. I also think “Dandy” is one of the funniest (quiet chuckle, not ha-ha) songs I’ve ever heard.
The Who – My Generation (1965)
Pete Townshend was a punk before such labels were applied to musicians. “My Generation” was a clarion call for the kids who would later rise to the forefront of punk rock – Townshend’s own experiences in the mod subculture that thrived in London in the 1960s are obviously at work. Roger Daltrey’s exasperated stutter captured Townshend’s frustration perfectly.
Make no mistake though: this record is not one single deep. “The Kids Are Alright” is the foil to “My Generation” – a classic pop song with infectious hooks and terrific harmonies. Interestingly enough (returning to the influence on punk), the mainstream punk rock revival in the 1990s would effectively fuse the two songwriting impulses to great success (Green Day, for instance, basically read from Townshend’s playbook, recasting it through the lens of 1970s and 1980s punk rock).
“The Good’s Gone” is also one of my all-time favourite Who songs and “Out in the Street”, “Much Too Much” and “A Legal Matter” are all excellent songs (the latter two capturing the band members’ penchant for womanizing and carefree attitudes towards conventional “adult” responsibilities to great effect).
The Who – The Who Sell Out (1967)
One of the first “concept” records that would become seemingly commonplace in the 1970s, The Who Sell Out is ostensibly about a pirate radio station and an ironic take on the commercialization of rock music(ians). In my mind, it might be one of the best concept records ever (yes, better than The Wall Pink Floyd fans).
The record also contains probably one of the better known song’s in the band’s catalogue (“I Can See For Miles”) and my favourite John Entwistle song (“Silas Stingy”).
Small Faces – Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake (1968)
Like the Who, Small Faces were a part of the London mod scene in the 1960s. Also like the Who (perhaps more so) the band was very much into exploring the creative potential of unrestrained drug experimentation. This is especially evident on this record – the band’s third.
Side one immediately drifts into a psychedelic haze with the title track and ends with the best song on the album, “Lazy Sunday”. The record really gets interesting when you flip to side two. The listener is immediately introduced to the voice of a narrator (Stanley Unwin) who sets the stage for the band’s story (told throughout the rest of side two) of Happiness Stan, a boy troubled when he looks up at the moon and sees only half of it, culminating in a psychedelic journey in search of the missing half of the moon on the back of a giant fly. To top it off, the narrator continuously returns with passages spoken in near-incomprehensible gibberish and slang.
Yeah.
Monks – Black Monk Time (1966)
The first and only record from a group of American GIs based in Germany in the 1960s. The Monks took elements of beat music and garage rock and created an unholy concoction of fuzzy, dizzying, feedback and noise coloured with frantic spurts of vocals and chanting. What stands out most to me every time I hear this record is how raw it sounds and how sparse the lyrics are. The songs resemble short, pithy statements (expressing sentiments such as opposition to the Vietnam war) put to relentless beats.
At the time, barely anyone in North America or even Europe (outside of Germany) heard the record. Those who did, including Henry Rollins, Jello Biafra and Mark E. Smith, would help establish the punk rock scene a decade later. Those who encountered it for the first time in the aftermath of punk (such as myself) can see the roots of what would become punk rock clearly exposed.
This record is simply outstanding and it’s a musical travesty that many people still haven’t heard it.
The Stooges – The Stooges (1969)
I often wonder when I listen to this record why it took as it long as it did afterward for punk rock to crystallize into a musical movement in North America. Because, it’s abundantly clear that the Stooges were a bridge between experimental psych and garage rock and what would be called punk in the mid- to late-70s. “I Wanna Be Your Dog”, in particular, is a portent of things to come a few years later.
That said, it wouldn’t be fair to put much into the idea that the Stooges were or could have been a punk band. This record is downright dirty – so much so you can just as easily shift focus and make a case for it as one of the foundational influences on the sludge rock that would be called “grunge” over twenty years later.
No matter where you locate it in terms of its influence, this is a record that undoubtedly stands out as the definitive end of the 1960s (musically and almost literally). And, of course, our introduction to one of the most interesting front men in rock and roll, known once as James Newell Osterberg.
Velvet Underground – White Light/White Heat (1968)
Widely known initially for their association with New York’s avant-garde art scene in the mid-1960s (and Andy Warhol, in particular, who managed the band for a time), this record helped solidify the Velvet Underground as a groundbreaking experimental rock band that helped lay the foundation for the art-punk, new wave and post-punk scenes that would flourish in the city a decade later.
In addition to some interesting experimental arrangements, Lou Reed’s fascinating tales of drug use, surgical procedures, transvestites and orgies in dens of iniquity, sung in parts by John Cale, never cease to intrigue. “Sister Ray”, the record’s final track, clocking in at 17:27, furnished by extended solos and improvisations by the members of the band, might be the most memorable conclusion to any record. Ever.
Johnny Cash – At Folsom Prison (1968)
This record, quite simply, represents everything that makes the Man in Black special. It’s also important because, by most accounts, it effectively resurrected Cash’s career after his bouts with excessive alcohol and drug use had for all intents and purposes destroyed his reputation as a country star.
What I like most about At Folsom Prison is that the live recording gives you some interesting insights into Cash’s personality and his uncanny ability to connect with people who most other people in society wouldn’t bother to give a second thought to – let alone a compassionate one.
When I listen to this record I feel like I’m experiencing a unique and important moment in musical history. And I think that it’s a record that everyone should take an opportunity to listen to.
Well done.
Once again, I see we have similar tastes when it comes to broad strokes but diverge strongly when it comes down to particulars. e.g. Revolver. Agreed that it is one of their best albums, maybe even their best (though I still feel that title goes to Abbey Road). However, that Tax Man song gives me a gigantic, festering, unwashed taxi cab driver ass-style rash. In fact, when I ripped the album to iTunes I specifically excluded that track. Along with Eleanor Rigby, which produces, well, a slightly smaller rash.
A few other comments:
Well played on the Who (in general). But no dic on one point: the Who Sell Out is not better than the Wall. Like, not in the same league… not in the same ballpark… not even the same friggin sport. But talk about coincidences, given that I am actually listening to the Wall for the first time in about a decade right now. Nice try, but at the end of the day you are wrong. And what’s with two albums from one band?
Interestingly, while I’ve listened to the Velvet Underground and Nico approximately 8000 times (at least the songs on it that are worth listening to), I’ve never given White Light/White Heat a spin. One of those things I meant to get around to but never did.
As much as you will probably strongly disagree, I think Zeppelin 1 would have to get some credit, even if I recognize this list is your fave’s rather than a “best of” pronouncement. One day maybe you’ll come around. That album kicks ass in about 823 different ways.
Well, at least we can agree entirely on Johnny Cash.
Man, you HAVE to listen to White Light/White Heat. In my opinion, it’s infinitely better than the Nico record.
As for Floyd and Zeppelin. NO. DICE. Don’t make me quote Screeching Weasel’s song about Zeppelin again.
As for the two band thing, I’ve tried not to do it for the subsequent decades but, in all honesty, I don’t listen to a ton of 60s music. As you note, these are only lists of my favourite records. Plus, the Kinks and the Who rule.
I agree with all of your choices, but choosing “Face to Face” over “Village Green Preservation Society”? No Love’s “Forever Changes”? The first Moby Grape album? Oh, cruel subjectivity…
Yeah, that always seems to be a bone of contention among Kinks fans. I like the harder edge of Face to Face. Don’t get me wrong, I love Village Green, too. But, as your posts indicate, I’m already missing some records you’d add to the list. I can’t have three Kinks records!
I also forgot the Zombies’ “Odessey (sic) and Oracle”. So there.
From someone who was there (I am, myself, a Beatles song as of last June 16th) — can’t argue with most of these. But I have to throw in a few more. I have to include the first band I ever saw live at the Fillmore East, STEPPENWOLF — their first album was astounding. Agree with Dave on LOVE’s “Forever Changes” a must. You probably have other STONES later — which I will probably disagree with, I think they started ‘playing themselves on stage’ after 1970 — but would put “Got Live if You Want It” on my list. The ZOMBIES (Dave, I like your ears, guy) belong.
In America I have to include some of the “Village Rock” the “Creeque Alley” groups, but picking one album from the BYRDS, MAMAS AND PAPAS, and LOVING SPOONFUL would be difficult. The California groups are totally ignored here (thank heaven no DOORS who I always thought were overrated). JEFFERSON AIRPLANE belongs, but I am not sure whether you have to include BIG BROTHER & THE HOLDING COMPANY. But a real, unquestionable must is the first IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY.
You have none of the political music that was so much a part of us then. Certainly I’d nominate at least one of these: COUNTRY JOE AND THE FISH, EARTH OPERA’s “American Eagle Tragedy” or an early Phil Ochs. But also here is the incredible, forgotten THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA — weird, perverse, and simply magnificent.
You are more into ‘punk’ so you probably would run from three that I would include, MOODY BLUES (but which one? I think I’d go for TO OUR CHILDREN’S… over DAYS OF FUTURE PAST) PROCUL HARUM, and — this will get me flak, but I have to include IRON BUTTERFLY (but not “In-a-Gadda-Da-Vida”, rather I’d pick “Ball,” their third album where they had gotten themselves together the best).
And finally two forgotten classics — one of which never made it past the $2 bins and isn’t available anywhere, but if anyone is involved in rediscovering and re-releasing old albums, please find a copy of the only album by STREET with Anya Cohen’s incredible voice.
And finally the one album that has always been among my top three since I first heard it, “Definition” by CHRYSALIS — which is available on CD and which has the most incredible lyrics I can recall, and which I won’t quote because when I get started I can’t stop.
On to the 70s.
I had left off CREAM and shouldn’t have, but mentioned it later. But there is one album that has to be included — even though it’s going to get a “Huh?” from everybody. It was the funniest musical satire I know, got one hit from people who didn’t get the joke, and then disappeared. (Me too, I had the album for over ten years before I listened to it and realized it was a magnificent send-up of late sixties music, every song being a surprisingly good song, but also a thumb in the eye of every group that was around.
Will someone go through the collection, find that dusty, unplayed for decades, copy of THE FRATERNITY OF MAN and actually listen to it, realizing what it in fact was, satire. (Yes, even including “Don’t Bogart That Joint.”)
And if you doubt my interpretation and have it on CD rather than on vinyl, you may need a magnifying glass to see the evidence that my interpretation of it is accurate. With all the ‘tree-hugging’ hippie pictures on the back, there’s one with a sign that probably meant nothing to most of the people who owned, a little sign that reads “Welcome Sons of the Desert.”
“Sons of the Desert” was — and I believe still is — the name of the international Laurel and Hardy fan club.