pop culture, reviewed

If I ever went deaf, these are the albums that I would miss the most.  If someone stole all my stuff, these are the albums that I would replace immediately.  If someone ever makes a movie of my life, these are the albums that I want on the soundtrack.  Ready?  Go.  (Note: this list is incomplete.)

Bruce Springsteen, Born in the USA. First album I ever bought myself — I was maybe eight?  Bought it on cassette, natch. Thus began my love of the Boss.  And Courteney Cox.

Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water.   Though I can no longer listen to the title track — can you?  are you over the age of eleven? if not, haven’t you heard it enough? — I still love the rest of the album a great deal.

The Beatles, 1962-1966 and 1967-1970.  I know it’s not cool to pick greatest hits albums in lists like this, but I’m making up the rules here.  Plus, the red and blue compilations were the ones I listened to when I was a wee small child discovering the Beatles via eight-track, and even now, when I listen to the actual albums, I anticipate the songs in the order that they were on the red and blue. 

Matthew Sweet, Girlfriend.   Hi, High School Emilie!  I know you love the Matthew Sweet.  Good taste.  Also, your eight-hole Doc Martens look really good with that skirt, I promise.  And your dad’s flannel shirt is also really flattering.  Okay, the last two things aren’t true, but at least you were right about loving Girlfriend.

The Replacements, All Shook Down.  Actually most of my very favorite Replacements songs are on other albums, but this was the album that made me fall in love with them, so it’s still my most beloved.

The Jayhawks, Hollywood Town Hall.   Thanks, 96 Wave.  It sure was fun when non-satellite radio stations played really good music.

R.E.M., Automatic for the People.  No, I CAN’T unload the dishwasher, MOM, I have to go write a paper on Garcia Marquez for A.P. English and then I have to call Nora.  What?  I’m sorry.  Automatic for the People made me have a little tenth/eleventh-grade time warp there.  Okay.  I’m back. 

Lay Quiet Awhile, Delicate Wire.   I don’t really listen to it very much anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it just the same.  (Sidenote:  Apparently not many people are writing about Lay Quiet Awhile on the internet anymore, because my college boyfriend Googled them a couple of months ago and was led to this blog and, um, an entry that was in part about him.  That was totally cool — really! — but remember, kids, anyone can find you if you write on the internet!)

Lucinda Williams, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.   Was it lucky or unlucky that this, the greatest break-up album of all time, was released at the same time as I experienced a significant breakup?  Lucky, I do believe. 

Lyle Lovett, The Road to Ensenada.  It still really makes me mad when people make snide comments about Julia for marrying Lyle.  Lyle is awesome, fools.  (Also: yes, our Fiona is named after that Fiona, except our Fiona has both eyes.)

Billy Bragg and Wilco, Mermaid Avenue.  This album kept me company when I was living in England and desperately homesick. 

Travis, The Man Who.  Find me a bad song on that album, for reals. 

Whiskeytown, Stranger’s Almanac and Pneumonia. Not that I don’t like Faithless Street, but I like these better.

Ryan Adams, all of it, duh.  

Gram Parsons, GP/Grievous Angel.   I mean, y’all know I love Gram.  In fact, maybe I will go put on my “Gram Lives” Neighborhoodie right this minute.

Neil Finn, Seven Worlds Collide.  Aside from any Ryan Adams, probably my most-loved album of the last six years.

This list is too hard.  I have to take a break.  To be continued.