Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds "let love in"

I studied printmaking in college and promptly got a job doing hand screen printed greeting cards. I started on the company's second shift and for a few years led the life of a nocturnal sad indie dude.  The entire staff at the print shop were a weird bunch but the night shift were an especially motley crew. Filthy crusty goths, war obsessed model builders, aspiring punk rock drummers and sad indie rock dudes.  The night shift manager was a kind ginger who took me under his somewhat alcoholic wing and we became fast friends. He loved #nickcaveandthebadseeds .  I quickly joined him in his adoration of the cinematic musicianship and the dark gothic-noir narratives of the band.  Sprawling songs of love, unrequited love, revenge, drinking and murder.
"Let love in" was the first piece of his discography I acquired, it got alot of air time in the print room. It's dark romanticism suited me well as I was still reeling from a soul crushing (but with hindsight deserved) breakup. This collection of songs had a delicious sense of malicious irony concerning the title. If you're of this disposition then this is a great breakup album, might even be the best (as a sad indie dude I had been wallowing in Husker Du's "candy apple grey" up to this point).  The entire discography is worth checking out, I've grown to really enjoy the early post-punk/post-goth early stuff but I believe this is the most accessible and consistent entry point to the catalog.

The Wynona Riders "j.d. salinger"

There was a time in my life I would have bought anything Lookout! Records released, and they released this gem with a moniker aimed squarely at me.  The album comes off as a fairly standard pop-punk affair but the lyrics are more biting than their contemporaries. It was 1996 and my friend had started a band, I don't recall the band's name but I do recall they had a song called "drive like yoshi", through this band and his fanzine he was able to book #thewynonariders at the showplace theater here in Buffalo.  The show didn't have a great turnout and my friend and his band stumbled through their first show. The Wynona Riders took the stage and the contrast was so severe, they were wound tight and played a fantastic set to the largely empty venue.  They really won me over by treating the dozen people  in that large hall to a great performance.
I was reminded of this album because the singer has since joined the road with the current touring Dead Kennedys. The dks played here recently and I wasn't able to attend though the reviews I've heard were largely positive.  I got a little lost in thinking about how far our paths have traveled in twenty years, that guy performing sold out shows with the Dead Kennedys and me staying home to help out with my three beautiful sons.  Sometimes courses work out for people and not in an expected way.

Metal Church "s/t"

#metalchurch I always thought that was an awesome name.  In 1985 my buddy had bought a couple LPs and we were hanging in his room listening to them. One of the records was this debut. I remember loving the album cover and thinking I would have totally bought it as well. By today's standards it's cheesy as hell, a photograph of an explorer guitar (a metal as hell axe) fashioned into a moss covered cross in a purple swampy fog with it's oversized graphic band logo. I recently stole this concept for the back cover of the Barksdales album cover I did. Shhhhhh.... don't tell them.
Metal Church weren't exactly thrash, but they weren't old guard metal either. They were kind of a perfect transitional band. The songs are filled with guitar and drum heroics but not in a dramatic European way, the record felt street.  It has a grime on the production that makes it feel authentic, all denim and leather.
We listened to the album and I begged my friend to tape it for me so we listened to it again with the cassette rolling and headbanged in his room sitting cross legged in front of his stereo. I used to draw variations of this cover on various folders and book covers at school. Book covers. Man.  Folding brown paper shopping bags over your school books to "protect" them. Do kids still do that? I believe an entire generation of artists were born scribbling on that light tan surface. I know I was.  I definitely cut my artistic teeth redrawing logos and album covers on these books and folders. Any given moment you can hand me a pencil and paper and ask me to draw this disc cover and I will, you hand me a blank folder and you can keep the drawing.

Otis Redding "the dictionary of soul"

Like anyone in my age bracket I loved Ducky's lip synching scene in "pretty in pink".  I learned everything I know about society and romance from John Hughes (and the first two Karate Kid movies). I learned the concepts of social strata and that the real losers never get the girl (go back and watch, with the exception of "Weird Science" the true nerds of the movie never end up with the objects of their affection)
Many confused years layer I had finally ended up with a girl I wanted and through her girlfriend met the co-president of the buffalo scooter club "the Tundra Schmucks".  This guy and I became great friends (lasting much longer than the relationships that introduced us).  Through his vintage scooter club sub culture I was introduced to a touch of "mod" culture but more importantly their affinity for soul and rock steady music. I had attended a couple of their scooter rallies,  and though I never bought a bike I did buy into the vintage soul albums they played. I remember at the first event I heard Ducky's song "try a little tenderness". I asked the guy who was spinning the records who the artist was and I was shamed into the information.  I bought an #otisredding greatest hit cd when I got home and loved it. This was the second cd of his I purchased. I've never been a fan of "greatest hits" collections.  The deep tracks are where an artist lives.
Mr. Redding was my mix tape secret weapon for years. I never used Ducky's song, that would be too obvious, but a track like "she put the hurt on me" was a foolproof transition song to follow one of my drowsy slow core favorites.  I've since gone on to be an avid collector of soul music gems but Otis Redding will always be my measuring stick of the genre.

White Lies "big TV"

Some albums you just grow to love. This #whitelies album was being played frequently at the tattoo shop where I work.  It started as a pleasant enough background album, one that didn't annoy me but didn't grab my attention either.  Before long I started humming the songs and before I realized what had happened I was singing choruses.  Because of the familiarity I felt like I needed to add the cd to my collection.
I thought my wife might like the '80s new wave/college rock sound.  She didn't at first but it grew on her too I believe. The album has a Depeche Mode/Echo and the Bunnymen vibe and sound but with modern day compressed mastering and really big guitar sound. The vocalist is a stand out, deep rich baritone vocals that bring to mind the melodrama of '80s goth bands as well.  There's a few groan inducing bad lyrics but all in all the album is filled with catchy hooks.
I was very curious about the band and wondered if they pulled these big songs off live (they are credited as a trio in the disc booklet) so I spent a few minutes searching videos of the group. I stumbled upon their music video for "there goes our love again" (my favorite single off the album) and loved the whole Kill Bill japanese dance club vibe.  I'm not someone who usually notices choreography but the dancing in the video is loads of fun to watch.  My family has had a few impromptu dance parties ignited by that music video. Anything that gets the kid's booties shaking is welcome on my wall.

Nortt "graven"

#nortt is a danish one-man metal project that describes his own music as "pure depressive black funeral doom metal".  It's written right on the back cover of this cd in a large old English font.  If you want me to buy your disc this is the kind of stuff you write on it.  I discovered nortt on a split-ep with another one man black metal project called Xasthur (we'll get to them at another time).  If nortt's self analysis of their own sound sounds apt it's because it fucking is.  The songs are a slow as a glacier crushing your head, as black as deepest cranny of hell and as depressive as finding an empty Nutella container. 
There is no good time to introduce this kind of music to someone. You can't pop it in while you're driving, you can't play it while waiting for a pizza delivery with your friends and you certainly can't play this stuff at work.  The only setting for this music is solitary.  You can suggest it to someone and hope they find the right time to appreciate it.  I love nortt's discography while I'm drawing or painting and in headphones when I'm about to fall asleep. It's like the "green eggs and ham" of cds, dude's not going to like it here or there or anywhere until they are at their rope's end and give in to the experience.
This stuff is more dynamic than the description implies. It's just slow ass dynamics. The music gradually builds and then falls into solitary piano passages before being assaulted with razor like guitar tones and isolated drum hits. It's awesome miserable stuff once you find a pocket of time that it suits.  Leave this cd in your art bag or your night stand and when the mood seems right for morose brooding give it an empowering hateful soundtrack. Turn those lemons into coagulated blood. \m/

Karate "s/t"

It's the first rainy morning I can remember in a while, during this global warming induced oppressive summer.  I have more rainy day albums than rainy days it seems. Maybe I should move to the Pacific Northwest so I can thoroughly enjoy them more.
This debut by #karate is actually not only my favorite rainy day albums it also doubles as my favorite autumn record. Fall is my favorite of the seasons and as august aproaches it feels like those cool wet days with the smell of fallen leaves are a long way off. Sigh.
I read a review of this album in 1995 and as usual back then Home of the Hits came through by stocking this release.  The first song on this disc "gasoline" opened a dozen mix tapes I made that year. It's slow and spacious first verse set up a tension point with it's "hey..........sugar....." lyric and sparse slowcore instrumentation.  I still haven't gotten sick of that song and it's old enough to buy itself a beer now.
A close friend of mine had moved to NYC some years prior and I had been taking train trips to visit him.  The were affordable and I loved the romanticism of the rails. They were 9 hours long though and would get to the city poor from buying batteries for my cassette Walkman. On more than one occasion this album would be playing as we rolled into that Gotham skyline along the river and lurched through the darkness towards Grand Central Station. It's an image that this record conjures up and creates my own internal artsy fartsy music video for the album.
Man the song "every sister" just started playing here in my kitchen. I can't encapsulate this.  I'm sure you could find an mp3 of this on the internet. If it's grey where you are you really should listen to it if you can find it.  Perfect.

MDC "millions of dead cops/more dead cops"

I've been a little hesitant posting my memoir about this album for obvious reasons, but those same reasons make it pertinent to talk about it. There have been three events recently that have brought this album into my attention again recently.  First, I recent watched the N.W.A. biography "straight outta compton".  I thought about the song "fuck Tha police" and sentiment behind it and realised I wasn't shocked by it because this album predates that release by 6 years (though I had only been listening to it for a couple of years before N.W.A. "shocked" america). Second, the song "John Wayne was a nazi" and it's prominent inclusion in the Grand Theft Auto 5 video game. It's one of my favorite hardcore punk songs of all time and it amplifys the mood of the game whenever it cues up.  Third, all the distrust of police and how it is in a vicious cycle of escalation right now. People fearful of police and the police fearful of people. It's such a dangerous and heavy time. I really don't want my thoughts on this album to appear as the condoning of more violence.  I do not. I am simply speaking about empathy.  It's strange to me that I am reluctant to talk about the politics of a political hardcore band.  It shows how important this kind of art is. The topics need to be brought up no matter how uncomfortable if we are every going to dialogue ourselves into enacting change.
#MDC album "millions of dead cops" was first introduced to me in 1987 by the future drummer in my first punk band.  I painted the iconic "cop/klan" logo on the shoulder of his leather jacket. This cd is a compilation of that album and the "more dead cops" album.  Those titles make them seem singular in theme but the discs cover a variety of injustices: corporate greed, religious absurdity, vegetarianism, gay rights, etc.  Subsequent albums alter the meanings to the band's moniker (Multi Death Corporation, Millions of Dead Christians, etc...) but there's no mistaking the anti-police sentiment.  The lyrical similarities with "fuck tha police" are uncanny and illustrate to me that police brutality has reared it's head not only based on race but also social economics.  Poor people fear the police.

Fu Manchu "the action is go"

It would take a team of NASA scientists to calculate how many hours I've spent playing the Tony Hawk Pro Skater video game franchise. The soundtracks to these games have been consistently awesome. I discovered #fumanchu this way, and in particular the song "evil eye".  We have a shared experience if when you hear this song you start searching your surroundings for gaps and floating vhs tapes.
Fu Manchu are masters of the riff.  They embrace a '70s stoner muscle car vibe and distill their songs down to bongwater soaked head bobbing monsters.  You can throw a rock at their discography and hit a blacktop and weed smelling masterpiece. The songs are catchy and the '70s romanticism pair for great pedal to the metal hard rock that I'm sure those aforementioned NASA scientists could calculate a formula of riff/time saved on the average commute.
This album is probably the best entry point to their collected works. After this they get a little less vintage sounding and the earlier stuff tends to be a little murkier in production. This disc catches them on a high point. But really as far as I'm concerned you can grab any of their albums and enjoy the riffage immensely.

Rocket From The Crypt "circa:now!"

I woke up today wanting to hear #rocketfromthecrypt .  I awoke late, the kids are at nana's and the wife has long been to work. Our bedroom is a man made tornado of cooling fans. Earlier I half awoke realised the favorable conditions and fell back asleep. During that second slumber I had a Warped Tour dream. I attended the first few years of the festival because I loved the diverse line ups and a buffalo summer day by the lake with a bunch of band's was actually a really inviting affair. The first year was at Melody Fair and then the show moved to Lasalle Park for a few years right on the shore of Lake Erie. That first year at Lasalle Park in 1996 I had been comped tickets from the "Punk Uprisings" tv show that I had somehow become art director of. My girlfriend at the time had the awesome idea of claiming I was diabetic so we were allowed to bring food and drinks in. She was a clever one.
The band I was most excited to see that year were Rocket From The Crypt. They played one of the smaller stages in matching shiny silver bowling shirts. The horn section slayed and they played a ton of songs I hadn't heard which was fine by me. It really highlighted the band's '60s rock aesthetic bit filtered through punk rock.
This album was the first of their immense canon that I bought. I remember the song "sturdy wrists" being on a mix tape one of my fellow music obsessed friends made.  I loved the whole vintage "rock n' roll" vibe they layered on their songs. Horns, big choruses and swinging riffs all delivered with the venom the band moniker implies. Not in the americana/social distortion way but more in a serial killer/buddy holly way.  This album is one of their more consistent batches of songs and a great driving album.

Warning "watching from a distance"

I don't expect many people to like this #warning record.  Like all doom metal albums it's snail's paced dirge will weed out most listeners and this album is slow even by doom metal standards (it's not funeral doom slow but now I've convoluted this with sub genre's titles).  It's five songs in fifty minutes result in long melodramatic songs of loneliness and despair with a dash of dungeons and dragons flair.  Nope, it's the nasal warbling croon of the vocalist that proves to be most people's braking point (see what I did there, gosh I'm clever).  I'm writing all of this disclaimer because while I freaking love this record anyone I have played this for or suggested to because of shared musical interests have roundly rejected this disc. I get it, and I dont.  I've listed the complaints, but all of them also easily fall into cherished reasons why I think this cd is so damn good. Ear of the beholder I suppose.
I discovered this cd by mining the Internet looking for new doom albums to sate my immense appetite for the stuff. The slower the better. The bleaker the better.  One person's suggested list looked very similar to my own collection so I combed his titles looking for unfamiliar albums. This cd was nestled in that impressive catalog so I checked a couple distribution sites and with a little effort found it and ordered it straight away.  I loved it the first time I played it. It's been a lonely love but I guess that's fitting for a gloomy album like this.

Listening to this album in our kitchen while putting dishes away I sang along and slowly threw my wife the horns.  She rolled her eyes and snarked: "it's not as bad as the stuff you usually play."
Hope.

Possessed "seven churches"

I was drawn to this album cover like a moth to a flame. For as long as I can remember I've been attracted to the "evil" aesthetic. In comic books I always preferred the villain's costumes, the monsters in movies were what I waited to see and when I discovered heavy metal I had found a sub-culture as obsessed with this stuff as I was. 1985 was an exciting time to be a metal head, the burgeoning thrash metal scene was starting to release great albums (though we didn't know what was just around the corner: 1986 is the greatest year in heavy metal history).  Someone's mom had given us a ride to Cavages Records in the mall, it was our mecca at the time because it had a dedicated "heavy metal" section. They carried releases you wouldn't find at department stores, they carried albums like #possessed "seven churches". Now I've mentioned the album cover but I want you to realize that while it's iconic it is also terrible: just some conflicting fonts on a black background (admittingly the band's logo: pointy calligraphy aflame is cool but I have no idea what they were thinking with the samurai font for the album title).  What makes this album cover so hide-it-from-your-mom awesome is that big light grey inverted cross. Aww yeah, that's the spot.
The record is proto thrash and as far as I know coined the term "death metal" with one of their song titles. It's fast, sloppy and evil sounding. Unintelligible lyrics with swirling heavy guitars and a drummer that sounds like he's struggling to keep up but it all coalesced into an awesome album. The band, though we didn't know it at the time, we're all teenagers. They spoke to us as only co-generational hesher could. Also of note: Larry Lalonde was in this band. He's the guitarist in Primus that no one ever paid attention to.
A couple years ago I got to catch the band live, though the only remaining member from this album was bassist/vocalist Jeff Becerra. Jeff was confined to a wheelchair, I'm not sure the cause, but the guy sounded great and he thrashed around on stage in that chair with gleeful abandon. It was awesome and I finally got into a pit for the song "holy hell" so that's a bucket list tick off.

Hayden "everything I long for"

An old friend and roommate of mine used to turn me on to cool music and movies. Every so often he would show up at the apartment with a vhs tape of some movie which i was sure to reference for years. One night he had shown up with the movie "Trees Lounge", a downtrodden loser-chic movie with no happy ending in sight. We loved it and became first tier Steve Buscemi fans. The closing credits had a remarkable strummed bass guitar song with deep sad vocals, it kind of encapsulated the movie so I waited through the credits to find out who performed it. Turns out it was by #hayden.
I ran out and bought this, the only Hayden album I could find. It didn't have the movie's title track so I was a little nervous if the rest of the album would carry that sort of spirit. Turns out most of these songs were as if not more downtrodden than the movie. It's a disc full of sad, relatable narratives sung over sparse (for the most part) instrumentation. Hayden howls in a slacker baritone and the self-deprecating and self-pity drenched lyrics suited me just fine.
This album was definitely a bridge to my woah-is-me mid-twenties. Those years were marked by a great deal of lonely activities. Many of which probably would have made great Hayden songs. I tried myself but always shied away from the naked vulnerability of these songs and hid behind unclever turns of phrase. The albums that make our desert island lists are the ines made by an artist who can speak what we feel better than we can.

Bad Religion "against the grain"

In the summer of 1990 I had just graduated high school and had a sweet part time/occasional job helping a guy with his DJ gigs and doing live PA/sound for bands. I mostly lugged his huge cabinets and ran cables, during weddings I'd eat food, steal drinks and dance with guests and during bands we would pretend there would be huge problems with the system running around with flashlights and jiggling cables and then laughing at the sound board while people commended us for all our hard work.  One instance he called me to ask if I wanted to help him with some last minute "hardcore" show in Buffalo. I can't remember why I couldn't go but I know I didnt, the next time I saw him I asked how it went he replied that the headliner was great. I asked their name but he couldn't remember he did remember that there merch had a bunch of corn on it. I winced. "Bad Religion?" I asked already suspecting the answer, "yeah, that was it" he replied. I was so fucking devastated I sulked for a week vowing to never miss one of his jobs again.
Bad Religion has forever enhanced my vocabulary. I can still sing every lyric on this wordy as hell record because I poured of the lyric booklet like I was cramming for a thesis. If you're unfamiliar with their powerful, social and melodic catalog I suggest starting here (their album "suffer" is a close second with a better album cover ). Their iconic logo is still my favorite sticker to slap on stuff.

Harvey Milk "courtesy and good will towards men"

Road trips to see bands are an integral part of music culture. Musicians cannot play every city to every handful of fans that may (or may not) show up, so these excursions are pretty common to folk with more than a passive interest in music. In 2010 some friends and I decided we needed to make the 3 hour drive to catch #harveymilk , coalesce and the atlas moth. On that trip we discovered that Pittsburgh is a rough town. Upon arriving to the neighborhood of the venue we found a pizzeria/pub for some food and witnessed a vicious fistfight which spilled onto the street outside.  It was a morbidly fascinating spectacle and the experience put us in the mood to be pummeled by the band's that night.
Harvey Milk is an aquire taste. I had bought this album based on its inclusion on someone's list of essential records.  They are a band that is hard to pin down, swinging from soft post-rock passages to a howling cathartic sludgey din. Of the group of us going only one other person had witnessed them live and the two of us knew the rest were in for treat. It's funny how a band's live performance can inform their records. They can put familiar discs in new perspective. The uninitiated among us weren't totally sold on them. Moments into their set slack jaws marked the conversions. I'm not sure the band is still active or touring leastways,  if they are you should make the trip, it's jarring.
The show was great all the way through and the lot of us started to make our way back to the car. We walked past unfamiliar landmarks until we blindly wandered into the remnants of what appeared to be some sort of riot.  Police with dogs prowler over dozens of hand cuffed people in a eerie quiet. We floated through the mess like ghosts afraid to speak in case it reignited whatever conflict we stumbled into. We eventually made it back to our ride and sat in confusion for a bit. We never found out what actually occurred at that scene. Pittsburgh is a rough town.

Tugboat Annie "superfriends"

I'm sure every city has johnny appleseed bands, bands that happen and inspire a bunch of other people to form bands in their wake. In 1995 #tugboatannie was that band in Buffalo. Their demo tape had been making the rounds for a couple years as well as their first wave of South loft hosted shows. They were a flagship on the fledgling buffalo label Cash Cow records (I bought every 7" they put out).  Tugboat Annie played anthemic indie rock, big choruses and the vocalist's Richard Butler like raspy voice were a welcome recipe amongst a grunge weary fan base. I had been playing in a punk band for a couple years and we were kind of stagnating so we were amicably breaking up. I was in limbo, I had a taste of rock band and didn't want to give it up. A mutual love of this album led to the next couple of bands I played in. For those experiences alone this compact disc would hold a place in my heart but the fact is it's a damn fine forlorn album too.

The Sheila Divine "new parade"

Tattooing has been really good to me. I've worked hard and reaped many rewards from my craft. I've been afforded opportunities to travel, I've met amazing artists who have influenced me, some clients have become dear friends and every once in a while I get to meet people whom I've admired from afar. Today I get to tattoo the vocalist/guitarist from #thesheiladivine .  I picked up this disc after hearing their incredible single "hum", the song one of those perfect amalgamation of time and sound. It's dynamic loud/soft composition, the beautifully achey vocals and early Radiohead-esque instrumentation make it a lightening bolt from the early 'aughties. It always puzzled me that this album was released on a metal label.  The rest of the album is solid, if somewhat slower than the single.  The band were always great live and drew large crowds here in Buffalo.
I'm listening to mp3s of the album because my wife kidnapped the cd yesterday and it is currently trembling in her car (the place cds go to be maimed and die).
I'm curious as to where the conversation will travel today during our tattoo session while he is in town. Those conversations take of on a life of their own and I'm looking forward to the experience and adding a new layer of appreciation to the band as well.

Leviathan "massive conspiracy against all life "

Black metal is not an easy listen. I find it hard to believe that any person unfamiliar with music would be able to pick up this #leviathan album "massive conspiracy against all life" and enjoy it from the get go. Some art requires prerequisites to appreciation. I have been a massive music fan for as long as I can remember. I've always pursued music to ends that tend to be obsessive. That meandering but purposeful path has led me through pop to metal, punk, country and soul to the fringe sub genres of each style of music. I feel it's like an archeological passion to unearth the unknown, to find music few have heard and even fewer create.  My appreciation of black metal started as aesthetic, I loved the extremity, the absolutes of its theologies and performances. It took me a long time to get there and I slowly gained appreciation by exposing myself and becoming vulnerable to it's hate filled sounds. This shit rules.  When I discovered this Leviathan album I felt like I had found black metal's vacuum center. It's an album that takes time to hear, like one of those magic eye paintings from the '90s. You have to unfocus and stare into its oblivious maw and allow the songs to reveal themselves.  This album is the sonic embodiment of misanthropy.  It's an earned punishment for appreciating it. I'm sitting here trying to think of an apt description using reference points and I can't even do that. This album has to be heard, and even then I fear without the proper ear training and appreciation for this sort of art you will probably just dismiss it as a cacophony.  I know my wife does, but to those who appreciate this dark spectrum of music you will love the experience.
I love this damn cd.
The baby overslept so I didn't play this for him, he's not ready anyway. I'll listen to it again in headphones on my walk to work.  If you see me I'll be wearing a satisfied grimace.

Ramones "Brain drain"

I may lose some credibility with punk rock purists but this is hands down my favorite #ramones album. "Brain Drain" was released my senior year of high school and that summer after graduating I got to see the Ramones live on the "escape from new york" tour (with Debbie Harry, Tom Tom club and Jerry Harrison ).  This record came out and featured the theme song to the movie "pet cemetery ", because of that song we all headed up to the now defunct Como Mall and half of my skateboard crew bought tickets and distracted the usher while the other half snuck in (we had been watching and trying to emulate Penelope Spheeris's 1984 movie "suburbia" for a while at this point).  I don't remember much of that Steven King movie but I do remember us all singing the song during the closing credits.  Maybe all these experiences have culminated in my decision, but really I think this is a great batch of Ramones songs with as good of production as they had in the '80s. (Though I will never enjoy those over gated snare drums from that decade, definitely dates the whole Husker Du catalog, but I digress). Besides "pet cemetery "(a GREAT fucking song) the album opens up with my favorite ramones chest thumper: "I believe in miracles" and the album closes with what should be the Menter Family carol: "Merry Christmas  (I don't want to fight tonight)". As with all ramones albums there's a couple snoozers but they are out numbered and outweighed by the great tracks.

Boys Life "departures and landfalls"

We music nerds love to talk about "music scenes", the concept that a band's geography will influence it's sound. Typically I believe that it more of a cross pollination thing: bands playing shows and sharing rehearsal spaces, they end up influencing each other and it leaves sort of a musical paper trail. I believe it's a special occasion when the actual physical surroundings effect and influence the abstract patterns of sound that make up a bands output.
In 1996 I was nose deep in the first wave of emo bands and I scoured fanzines looking for releases that fit into that description.  I used to carry sketchbooks around with me. I filled them regularly in a pre-cell phone distracted life. Often I would jot down notes in them and even more often I would jot down band names and releases I would discover in fanzines, hear at friends houses or see on a t-shirt worn by someone who appeared cooler than me. #boyslife and their second album "departures and landfalls" was in one and I was able to find it at my favorite indie record store. It's a sprawling, meandering album sprinkled with field recordings and angular bursts of music. It feels like the open Midwest expanses from whist the band sprouted from. Nothing on the album is polished, it all seems to have a film of soil dust on it, an earthy open air musical feel. I've always thought that effect coupled with a very fitting album cover was almost magical in its ability to convey a landscape. It's not a quick listen album, it's a skipping stones in a pond kind of experiense: the ripples mesmerize amongst the sounds of nature. It's a great album.

Jawbreaker "24 hour revenge therapy"

Fanzines were a huge part of punk music culture in the '90s. I was involved with quite a few of them doing artwork and writing reviews. Occasionally a package would show up in the mail and I'd get giddy with excitement: cds and 7"s to listen to! I was already a pretty huge #jawbreaker fan so you can imagine my delight when this cd appeared with the mail in 1994! I loved the band's first two albums (the second one "bivouac" moving into darker territory with much more tempo variety). This, their third, still feels like their masterpiece to me. Anthemic, self depreciating and so well produced. I wrote a glowing wordy review for the 'zine which I believe earned me more packages (it seemed 'zine contributors leaned towards proto - hipster in their love of slanderous reviews) when these fanzines would correspond and want me to continue contributing it gave validation to my musical obsession (and free cds!)  A long running one that is still going as an online page is Jim Testa's "jersey beat", you should really Google the site. Great stuff.

Sleep "dopesmoker "

Ten years ago I started my tattooing career. My apprenticeship was a struggle but I was determined not to be deterred.  A close friend of mine (whose musical taste and collection I hold in the highest regard) was allowing me to tackle the biggest tattoo of my fledgling career: I was adorning his calf with a zombie head amongst an arrangement of flowers. The tattoo was large even for an experienced artist, I was excited to tackle it and prove myself to my mentor. We were in good spirits and decided the tattoo needed a bad ass soundtrack. I began to get nervous and to hide this I cranked this album up.  The tattoo took far too long but my good buddy endured it and while the results could be better by my current standards I was proud of the accomplishment.
The record we listened to #sleep "dopesmoker" is a monolithic ode to herbal delights. It is a relentless song that clocks in at almost an hour (yeah a single 50+ minute doom song)  we played this beast on a crappy portable cd player inches from our heads on the counter of the tattoo room. We both let it was over us and as he dealt with the experience  of a novice fumbling pain into his leg we would laugh at the length and awesome absurdity of the song only to be reeled in again by its pummeling majesty. Tattoos aren't for the light hearted, they require perseverance, stamina and tolerance. You need all of that to get through this album too, but in both the rewards are awesome.

Earthride "vampire circus"

In 2009 I convinced my brother to make the 500 mile motorcycle trip to Indianapolis to attend the "Templars of Doom" doom metal festival. This band #earthride were my main reason for attending it. In our ride to the festival we decided to not plan a route since we were leaving a day early and we would avoid throughways to make the ride as much of an event as the destination. We meandered through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana  and even discovered route 666, a metal omen if ever there was one. We ended up taking over twelve hours to get to Indy and we loved every single wandering mile. On more than one occasion during that motorcycle ride I would hum and sing this album to myself in anticipation of their performance.
Earthride play a sludge biker version of doom. The vocalist (who turns out to be smaller than Dio in stature) has a nicotine stained baritone voice that growls above the swampy din of Orange amplifiers. They didn't disappoint my stoned brother at the festival and I was in glory seeing these songs performed in a small club in a strange Midwestern city.
If you see me on a motorcycle I am singing one of two songs: steppenwolf "born to be wild" or "dirt nap" off this album.

Misfits "walk among us"

In 1987 all my hesher friends talked about Metallica. The death of Cliff Burton in the heels of the masterpiece album "master of puppets".  In every magazine that covered metal were photos of the band and their guitars adorned with Misfits stickers (Jeff Hanneman of Slayer turned me onto the Dead Kennedys in the same way) Metallica released their "garage days re-revisited" ep that year and I loved it, they covered a couple of misfits songs on it, I went out right away and bought the misfits cassette of "earth a.d." which contained one of those songs and I just didn't get it (though I loved the black cassette) Stubborn as I was to appreciate something my heroes appreciated I gave the #Misfits one more try and bought "walk among us" based on the album cover. I immediately fell in love with the choruses and "woah oh oh"s. It was dark, violent and poppy (for lack of a better word). Everything about the band's aesthetic was awesome: skulls and black garb. It was an easy transition for a metal head. I painted the band's logo on a denim vest I was emotionally dependent on and the next day at school an older terrifying punk kid at school pointed it out and asked me if I knew of a bunch of band's names he rattled off at me. I sheepishly said "no".  The very next day I was handed a cassette with Samhain's "November's coming fire" and The Damned's "machine gun etiquette ".  It's funny how many times my life has been changed by strangers handing me tapes.
There are other Misfits albums and Danzig projects I grew to love more but this is my nostalgic entry point.

Jason Anderson "new england"

A former drummer and former roommate had turned me on to the indie power pop of Wolf Colonel, in 2004 he phoned me up to let me know that the main guy from that band was doing a solo show at a coffee house downtown. There was only a few of us at that show. All musicians and fanzine editors. #jasonanderson was a thin, affable dude. He was appreciative of our presence and we talked about our city and his travels. At some point his guitar appeared in his hands and he started playing, strolling around the room. His reedy voice and dynamic strumming silenced us all.
The songs on this album are very diary - like and would sound at home on a Wes Anderson soundtrack (maybe it's the shared moniker, some alchemy of dna)  that night he played a track off this record called "pen pals", I know I sound melodramatic as I write this but he didn't leave any of our eyes dry with that song. Now I know making a bunch of arty indie rock kids cry in a coffee house is like shooting fish in a barrel, but there was a shared naked honesty with the lyrics. Jason managed to pull a heart string possessed by us all: being acutely aware that your salad days are happening and inevitably ending. Bands end, parents die and pen pals meet and are disappointed.  It was the heaviest moment I've ever felt at a performance. It was like a wake with friends. In the years since the show I've brought it up with my few friends who were there and every time the response is a heavy exhale and they'll glance at their shoes. A moment that changed the lot of us.
A little while later that coffee house caught fire and burned down. I wondered if maybe it just never recovered from the disappointment laid bare.
Emo moment: I cried hearing that song again while writing this.

James Brown "the payback"

1992 was my second year of college. I was pretty much ditching any class that wasn't art or philosophy related. The small community college I was attending had its own dedicated building to the arts. It was an old rail station that sat mere feet from active train tracks. When a train would roar by it vibrated our drawing pads and photographic chemical baths. I spent long hours in that studio building, it made me feel important and I'd imagine that alongside the few serious art students attending that we were part of a movement.  It was fitting that our drawing professor would play this pulsing funk/soul beast of a record to get us to give our movements a soundtrack.  She was a bespectacled Brooklyn bohemian type and would allow us to play our own music on the radio tucked in the corner of the large open drawing studio, but on days where she meant business she would deliberately walk across the floor past our nude model and with a few clicks of the cd player door we'd be bobbing our heads in unison amongst the smell of large pads of newsprint and charcoal.
This behemoth of rhythm's title track introduced me to one of my favorite lyrics: "I don't know karate, but I know ka-ray-zay!" The songs are long and the tribal repetition makes for a great backdrop to figure drawing. An excersize in which you draw with your shoulder, swinging your arm in large arcs. You draw with movement. #jamesbrown would give that movement grit.  A backdrop of carnal pulsing. Seriously,  this album makes any chore or task sweaty. It's been a favorite of mine since it was introduced to me

Rush "caress of steel"

With most things in my life I am one of those "jack of all trades but master of none" I have tried my hand at many things (bass guitar, snowboarding, roller hockey, pool, skateboarding, writing music blogs, etc) and have achieved functional ability in most of them but rarely any sort of expertise. It's rarely a result of lack of effort.  The summer of 1984 was the first summer of junior high. My friends had discovered pot (I was still too revulsed by smoking to even try it) and on the long aimless days between riding in strange cars to strange neighborhoods to track down that elusive plant we would spend countless hours in my friend's mom's basement playing pool, emulating wwf wrestling and listening to #rush .  Rush was my friend's favorite band, the music and his enthusiasm for it won me over in short time. He copied "caress of steel" onto a cassette for me (I remember thinking "I think I'm going bald" being funny) we had all dabbled in dungeons & dragons by this point so the album cover and the long "the necromancer" song also entranced me.  We would all hang out in the cool basement and air guitar with pool cues while waiting our turns to knock those colorful balls around that felt table. All of us spent alot of time down there, me probably the most, I was close with my friend and being anywhere but around my own home situation was embraced.
We listened to alot of Rush down there. We played alot of pool down there. A metric shit ton of pool. You would think I would have gotten good at it. Over the years I would play the occasional game of pool, I had the functional ability. Years later another dear friend of mine took a real interest in the game and started spending nights between his collegiate workload at pool halls. I joined him occasionally and watched him develop his game. He would put English on the cue ball and plan where it would come to rest, he would sink shots with precision and confidence, he even had a cue stick that screwed together. I could hang for a while but eventually just became a chaotic obstacle on his table. Se la vie. I am very good at listening to this album right now though.

Codeine "the white birch"

People who know me know that I love dirge paced music. I love that stuff right to it's extreme conclusion: the funeral doom genre (but that's yet another story) #codiene were the band that laid my glacial paced heart bare. I read a review of "the white birch" in a fanzine and wrote the title down in one of my sketchbooks and promptly tracked it down. After listening to Big Black yesterday it lead me to ponder the other musical landmarks that led me to my current taste in music. I pulled this long loved album off the shelf and had nostalgic shivers of that grey buffalo winter of '94 when I bought this. I was in my first punk band and kept trying to sneak slower tempos  (well "mid tempos", it was a punk band afterall) into my songs. We maybe played them once, I'm sure they were awful. The spaces in the songs on "the white birch " created a palpable tension. It's almost an anxiety waiting for the next beat. The band made you listen on their terms. And this album still masters me.

Celtic Frost "emporer's return"

#celticfrost are my most beloved metal band. Slayer had dropped "reign in blood" in 1986 along with Metallica's "master of puppets", I was in 9th grade and we all knew the metal landscape was changing. I was raving about Possessed "seven churches" album and Destruction's "infernal overkill" to a hesher at school and he slipped me a cassette that had morbid angel's first demo, a Thanatos demo  and Celtic Frost's "morbid tales".  Celtic Frost's smeary riffs, throaty vocals and mid tempo approach stuck to me like gum to a shoe. On our next trip to Cavages Records I found a cassette version of the "emperor's return" ep. One look at that cover and I snatched it up (the giger cover for "to mega therion" usurped it as gates cover of all time).  Has been a cherished release since.

Craft "fuck the universe"

This kind of dumb album title and horrible cover hides my favorite black metal album. Craft's "fuck the universe" is one of the most listenable yet still legitimate albums of the genre. The pristine production just makes the tones and songwriting stick out. To paint you a music nerd picture:  I heard a Russian Circles album the other day and had to take a minute to see if it was some Craft album I hadn't heard. That's how well played and recorded this stuff is. This was my "a ha!" black metal release. I was trying to get into the genre after being seduced by its grim history.  I was listening to benchmark releases by benchmark bands (and in that process was asked why I was listening to some screaming guy vacuum up pennies) but this was the first bm album that I LIKED.  I've since become a connesuir of this style of music and can appreciate all of its darkened corners (except Dimmu Borger who are the icp of black metal, but I digress).  This album was my gateway drug to all that intoxicating grimness.

The Replacements "pleased to meet me"

In 1987 I was in high school working at a family own pizzeria. I was making minimum wage ($3.35/hr, of all the recollections that's the one that stings my age) but would have worked there for free pizza.  It was a safe haven from my abusive step father. I worked too many hours for a kid my age but between that and school I managed to not be home much at all which was cool with me. Like most jobs you make friends with your co-workers, this was my first experience with this but it felt for the first time you could hang out and have deep conversations and joke with people outside your social cliques.  I was a metal head dabbling in punk at the time (mostly whatever punk bands appeared as stickers on thrash metal guitarist's axes). One of the kids who worked there and became one of my best friends had an older brother who had broken down the music barrier for him and was already into punk and some indie. One time i heard my friend take a phone-in order, we could tell from his stammering and body language someone was really laying into him on the other end. After slamming the receiver down (a release today's kids will never know) he took the order slip to the pizza making station and started making the pie. His grumbling grew in intensity until he started methodically taking each individual pepperoni and throwing them on the floor one and a time and stomping on each and every one. To this day I've never seen such a sustained seething thoughtful anger.
That guy introduced me to #thereplacements pleased to me me had just been released and was the tape he brought to work to play on our grease covered radio. At the time I was open to anything I wasn't hearing on the radio or MTV (stuff the girls we occasionally worked with wanted to hear, so it began)
I really don't know what to add to the replacement's mythos. For me these were rock songs that spoke in languages that pop didn't but still were  relatable. I became a huge fan of their discography and this album was my entry. Every time I hear this album I can smell that pizzeria.
The real lesson here though is: don't be a douche bag when ordering take out, unless you wanted extra chuck taylor.

Quicksand "s/t"

In 1991 a group of my friends and I were going to see fugazi at buff state. We saw on the flyer that some band named #quicksand was opening we all thought the same thing: dumb name. We went in with pretty low expectations for the opener. The show was in this big cafeteria looking room near the schools courtyard "the quad" (a favorite skate spot of ours at the time).  I don't have a clear memory of what songs quicksand played that night, but from the opening few seconds of their set we were drawn to them like moths to a flame. My whole group of friends were just drawn towards the melee in front of the stage. We got separated in the ensuing crash of bodies. We didn't know the songs but they made us move, it really felt tribal in some way. When they had finished playing we began to recollect our throng each one of us with a sweaty estatic grin and all of us blabbering about how great the band was.
The very next day we were at Home of the Hits buying whatever we could find by the band. I picked up this ep, their sole release. I was immediately taken back to their set still fresh in my mind. Quicksand never failed to woo me live, I saw them quite a few times over the next few years, in fact I don't think I missed a single show they played in buffalo.  I still prefer the production on this ep over their debut full length "slip" and this release contains my favorite song of theirs "clean slate". I remember when I was docking around with his bass guitar my friend John taught me to play "hypno jam". One of my proudest achievements at the time.
It warms my old heart to know that there are still young dudes like @zachzahn that rock out quicksand records. Even if they do like the Murder City Devils. Fuck the Murder Shitty Devils.

Goo Goo Dolls "jed"

In 1989 the new skateboarding friends I had made from the next suburb town over were all talking about catching the #googoodolls at a vfw post not too far from us. Even though I had never seen them before the goo goo dolls, manic depression and zero tolerance were all held in high regard in our circle because they were local and because they were "doing something"  the dolls had just put this (their second) album out on metal blade records in the middle of the crossover hardcore movement. It made sense on paper and as a metal head I had been buying stuff on the label for a few years now.  But before this it was always someone else from some exotic not-buffalo place doing this sort of thing. It gave them (and by sense of proxy: us) legitimacy. I had painted "goo goo dolls" on the leg of some shorts I had and endured a great deal of taunting (and retaliatory fist fights) over the garment. I can't help but wonder how many of those jocks now adore the fm radio ballad making machine the band has become, all the while claiming they new about them "way back in high school". One of my fondest memories of the album itself is that once my dickhead step-father overheard the closing track "James Dean" and became enraged (and I mean PISSED) over the lyrics implying James Dean was gay.  It was a delight to behold.
We made that vfw show and the band brought out local legendary R&B singer Lance Diamond (r.i.p.) out to perform a couple covers with the band. It was the start of a tradition and it seems like something like that could only happen in a little punk scene that regularly got skipped over. It really was special.

Cannibal Corpse "the bleeding"

Death metal has infiltrated all the heavy genres by now. It's musical excesses have tainted them all and the genres name is known to anyone with a passing interest in hard rock even if they can't quite identify it's sound. Buffalo was a major hub in the burgeoning death metal work in the late '80s and early '90s. Those of us weened on the "new wave of British heavy metal" and thrash here got heavily into tape trading. Mailing and receiving dubbed cassettes of bands demos and albums that were mostly 5th generation and piss poor sound quality. It was a movement and I had a part in it. One of my biggest music collecting regrets is letting that box of tapes go.
Anyone from this scene will share similar stories: stealing your parents beer and watching a bootlegged copy of the "faces of death" vhs, burdening your boom boxes antenna with 5 lbs of aluminum foil trying to hear the Thursday metal show on buff state's grossly under powered college radio station and finding cannibal corpse's first demo. I love feeling superior to young metal and hardcore fans because of all of this.
#cannibalcorpse are the world's biggest death metal band. They came from here and this album contains my all time favorite death metal song "stripped, raped and strangled" as a note, I always thought I'd be the "cool" dad. I admit: I hide these discs from my kids. They are on the top shelf of my Wall out of little fingers reach. When I was organizing the collection my young son found the "tomb of the mutilated" cover (Google it) and I squirmed as he asked me about it. In some ways that made me adore death metal even more. It's not for everyone, it should not be. That exclusivity makes me all snobby warm inside my guts.

Venom "at war with satan"

In 1985 I was in eighth grade, over the previous summer I had discovered Iron Maiden's "run to the hills" video on MTV.  At this point I was bicycling up to Hills department store weekly to spend my allowance on cassette tapes. Over that summer I was able to purchase a couple Maiden tapes and a smattering of various rock albums based on album covers. I fell in love with maiden that summer and was able to trade an old bicycle for a denim jacket with Iron Maiden's "piece of mind" on a back patch.  I wore that jacket like it was seared to my flesh. While sulking to my locker one day a fellow metal head who had older metal head brothers handed me a cassette on one side labeled "slayer- hell awaits" and the flip side "venom-at war with satan". My ears turned flush, at that point Maiden's "number of the beast" was the most satanic thing that could ever be recorded. But this label promised forbidden delights.
Listening to this #venom album now I will admit it sounds pretty dumb, but lying in my room with my boom box near my head listening to that tape in a barely audible volume for fear my mom would hear it... I felt a rebellious rush. I had been raised Roman catholic, but had by this time become a tepid agnostic. And here was an open war cry against god (I wasn't sophisticated enough to realize how tongue in cheek it was). I would eventually flip flop but at the time I vastly preferred the venom side over the slayer side. This cassette became the measuring stick for my small inner circle of hesher friends. We stopped buying Krokus albums. From here on evil looking albums were all we wanted.

New Model Army "thunder and consolation "

The drummer in my first band and long time friend Jeff introduced me to #newmodelarmy in 1989. Jeff had (has?) a pretty goth tinged taste in music balanced by a love of most things Minneapolis. He has never steered me wrong in music or films. This album was in tandem with the Dead Kennedys showing me that songs could have narratives with soul and a conscience, though this album is much more musical. The songs paint pictures that anyone who has felt alienated but can't shake empathy will adore. Their entire canon is filled with smartly written and flawlessly performed songs but this is the album where everything just seems to align and has some sort of alchemy that raises it above the other releases. This album remains on my desert - island short list.  And the bonus tracks on the cd version make this the format to track down.

DJ Shadow "endtroducing "

Women have always been a strange mystery to me.  Especially their tastes in music. In the early '90s I had the first Enigma album as me secret go-to album to play while entertaining the lady folk.  That album and it's intentions had long become transparent by 1998 and girls seemed to have no interest in my angular indie rock or my adoration of West coast pop punk (wrong girls maybe? I dunno). My roommate at the time @cinemacide had a cool urban-chic taste in music at the time that I envied (though dude pride at the time did not allow me to acknowledge this) he started playing Dr. Octagon's album which I thought was cool ad hell but I still suspected the overt sexual overtones were a bit much to hang to. Then he played #djshadow "endtroducing" and it was perfect! It was moody and jazzy but sampled Metallica. I bought it that winter and spent a lot of time with that cd on headphones, I couldn't believe the layers he was producing with just turntables it sounded like a band. Anyway, it turns out that this obsessive music fan making music for music fans is still an intrinsically "dude" thing.   Like I said: women have always been a strange mystery to me. Oh well.  At least I have this treasured disc.

Fugazi "13 songs"

It cannot be overstated how important this album is to me. I had it on cassette in 1989 and this is the same cd copy I bought in 1990.  During my divorce I conceded my house and my dogs but when we were dividing the cd collection I told my ex-wife "over my dead cold body will you get fugazi"

Knapsack "day three of my new life"

In 1997 I was working at a hand silk - screened greeting card company. I worked my way up to manager pretty quickly and that Christmas was the first time in my life I had received a Christmas bonus check. It was the first year I was able to buy my family Xmas gifts so when I boarded the bus I was taking to their rural home I was pretty pleased with myself. I lugged that army bag stuffed with presents (which had been my transient moving bag for years now) like a malnurished Santa. (What I would give to look malnurished these days)
This #knapsack disc was purchased after reading a review in a fanzine, I had put the cd on cassette and it accompanied me that dark three hour bus ride. I loved the album as soon as I got it and had put it on both sides of the tape.  The album isn't pop punk, it isn't emo and it isn't indie, but it isn't far from any of those genres. It's an earnest record with a pining melancholy feel but with upbeat tempos. It's kind of a blueprint for all the 2000's emo rock that kids were falling all over and it's a shame this band never received the recognition.
When I arrived at the bus stop in the small country town and awaited my sister to drive me to my mom's house I walked inside a redneck tavern, kicked the slush from my shoes and ordered a whiskey and ginger ale (a drink I stole sips from at Xmas parties when I was little). These songs were still in my head after taking my foam covered headphones off, they made a great soundtrack for that moment.

The Jesus Lizard "goat"

In 1991 I was attending community college in a small school located in a small town that was known for a different bigger college.  I was ripe with punk rock ideologies and Raymond Pettibone illustrations. I was studying art and at the time I figured I would get into political cartooning, I loved drawing shocking illustrations of political leaders in compromising situation. I quickly realized anger did not equate wit and would a couple years layer admit I had no future in that field. I had made art buddies with a like minded local who was also attending the school. We would gleefully render George Bush's head morphing into a penis, or a lovingly crafted image of Senator Jesse Helms submerged in urine. We would often spread out paper on his floor and have what we would call "jams" and just drift from sheet to sheet adding to the other persons sketches.
I had just discovered #thejesuslizard through the vocalists appearance on the first Pigface album. This album "goat" (the band's second) had just come out and I brought it with me to my co-conspirator's house. He was just as blown away as I was with it, it was like the disc possessed him. He stood up from one of the large half filled sheets and stood in the middle of the room and headbanged and stomped on our art to the entire "then comes dudley" song. It was awesome to witness someone else's cathartic release and not just my own sweaty bedroom air bands. He destroyed every fucking drawing on the floor. It was glorious.

Lantlos "melting sun"

In 2011 my friends Tommy and Beth got married in a cool wooden German lodge in the suburbs of Buffalo. The priesty/magic guy presiding over the ceremony spoke about how sophisticated the Greeks were about language and love. The Greeks have six different words for love: eros, philautia, pragma, phillia, ludus and agape. He focused on agape (a spiritual love for all) and that silly sounding word ("ah-gahp-pay") became the word of the night at my table of friends and future wife ("I agape this gin!")
Soon after the wedding I stumbled upon a German post-black metal band named #Lantlos and their album "agape". Too much of a coincidence to pass up. They do a shoe - gaze type black metal thing that I like so I picked up another one of their albums "neon" and I liked them both. In 2014 they released their third album "melting sun" and of course the obsessive collector in me bought it, I was expecting some more of the enjoyable same. This disc hit me like a bolt of lightning.  The band had distilled everything I loved about late nineties post-hardcore and Shoegaze into a gloriously produced masterpiece. It's as if Quicksand and My Bloody Valentine had a band baby. I immediately suggested Tommy pick it up and it made both our top pick of the year. We both anxiously await it's follow up. Love when this shit seems predestined. (Though I'm unaware if Beth likes the album at all).
Seriously though, pick this one up immediately.

Swearing At Motorists

This innocuous looking cd holds my Favorite Song Ever. The song is called "flying pizza" and as if that title weren't enough this little 1:45 gem is a rock gem distilled down to it's quintessential essence. 
I have sung this song as a lullaby for years to my two youngest sons. It's not that it's lyrically a good lullaby (it's a song about a guy running into his ex and being forced into unwanted small talk) bit there is a second "unplugged " version on the disc that I sing to them (though I vastly prefer the album opener version with drums). It took me some contemplation last night, I was trying to soothe the youngest to sleep in our hot downtown home on a yet bright Buffalo summer evening and I sang this song to him four times in a row. Before the fourth round I considered singing something else (usually Pedro The Lion) but just let this song go again. It was then that I started to realize that this song was "the one".  I fantasize that my son's will some day discover this album and in shock phone each other up and exclaim "I found dad's song!"
The rest of this #swearingatmotorists album is great too, naked songs about loneliness, trying to decide what movie to see with your significant other and regret.
I discovered the band in 1999. I was in a couple indie rock bands in Buffalo and was going to change the world with my melancholy inclinations in standard tuning. It kept me busy. On a night I didn't have one of my band practices I made a trip to our favorite dive The Mohawk Place. In '99 the bar was the heart of musicians in town, if your band didn't hang out at the Mohawk Place you probably sucked (to be fair some of us who hung out there were in shitty bands but we had impeccable taste). I walked in, was greeted by the owner Pete at the door, insisted on paying the cover ( a cat and mouse game of stubborn generosity we played for years) I didn't know the band, there was a sparse attendance that night but after the band's set I think everyone there bought merch. I bought this copy that night. I didn't realize then that I bought my favorite song, I don't think I realized it was my favorite song til I started singing it to my newborn son 13 years later.

Sunny Day Real Estate "lp2"

I was exposed to #sunnydayrealestate  debut "diary" upon its release and I turned my nose up at it without ever listening to it. It was on Subpop so I assumed it was more grunge that I could give a rat's ass about. Remember, this was 1994 and we were up to our eyeballs in poets in flannel. About two years later I was lounging on the floor of a friends Brooklyn apartment and "lp2" was washing over me. Maybe it was the experience of a NYC weekend that called for a soundtrack, maybe it was the mimosas and breakfast burritos or  maybe if I had paid attention to the first album I could have been humming along (singing along is near impossible because the lyrics are incomprehensible and it's the stuff of legends).  I backtracked and bought "diary" and played these two records until Jeremy enigk's nasal voice became a running joke amongst m6 roommates back home. As with most discographies your entrance point is usually your favorite and it's no different here. While they haven't put out a bad album this is the one I'll grab first off the shelf.  Oh yeah, these guys created emo. So love them or hate them for it this is as good as that gets.

Green Day "1039 soothed out sappy hours"

In the summer of 1989 my family moved to the rural souther tier of New York state. I had moved out and stayed in a one bedroom apartment with my friends girlfriend, I then stayed with that friends angelically patient family in an attempt to finish my senior year in high school. I managed to mess up that incredibly generous situation and packed my garbage bag of clothes and with tail tucked joined my family at their new backwoods home. Miraculously there was one kid at that rural school who loved punk rock and skateboarding and we quickly became inseparable. My mom in an attempt to soften the blow of failure bought me a cd player for christmas. My country punk rock friend and I salivated over a trip to the legendary record store in Buffalo: Home of the Hits. We eventually got there and my friend had convinced me to buy this Green Day album he had read about in some fanzine he managed to mail order.  We both became the World's Biggest Green Day Fans that spring. Spring bled into summer and I spent that summer restlessly prowling that countryside and the tiny village at it's center.  I would make the 14 mile skate on rough rural pavement to his house daily (and the pitch black walk home). We didn't have a portable radio so while we were skating around that miniscule town in the relentless  buggy heat of that farmland we would loudly sing green day songs. The longing pubescent romanticism suited our situation perfectly. While green day would put out two more incredible albums they would eventually fade from my interest and I lost my superfandom.  But listening to this album for the first time in a long time I am reminded that I've committed all the lyrics to memory and I remember just how fun they are to sing with a friend and skateboard no where in particular.

Kiss "alive II"

This is it : ground fucking zero. This is the album that launched my obsession with packaged music. In 1978 a 6 year old Joel caught the "kiss versus the phantom " tv special.  While I have been told I loved music since a baby and I can vividly remember hearing CCR on am radio in my mom's Volkswagen bug this was the first time I can remember feeling like the music was "mine". I can remember begging my mom for a Creem magazine that had #KISS on the cover, having only seen the show once I was enthralled. My parents bought me a cassette copy of "alive II" and unveiled it to me while riding in my stepfather's van. There nestled in floor to ceiling shag carpet on the bed in the back of that van the kiss story unfolded before me (I know! Could it have been a more perfect setting?) While I knew music came packaged on 8 tracks and records this was the first time I had something I wanted and could listen to at my own demand. Which was often. I played those two tapes on one of those flat top-load cassette decks with the single speaker. I played them ragged. I soon discovered that kiss had more of these tapes and was given "Destroyer" for Christmas (which is still in my top 5 album covers of all time.) To this day I can still freehand draw the "casablanca records" logo.  I was Gene Simmons so for three consecutive halloweens. I now have a wall of cds because of this experience.  My wife has KISS to thank.

Big Black "songs about fucking"

In 1991 I had a fling with industrial music, that summer I was into anything Wax Trax records put out. I spent a lot of time with nine inch nails, nitzer ebb, kmfdm, skinny puppy, my life with the thrill kill kult and Pigface.  I loved the song "the bushmaster" on Pigface's first album. I looked up David Yow's other band The Jesus Lizard (and fell in love with them bit that's another story) their ep "pure" used a drum machine which at the time really appealed to me. Someone much more "in the know" suggested I check out this #bigblack album.  It's an ugly listen. It's caustic and razor like guitar tones and dark lyrical content made me start searching the underground music circles for more of this ugly heady sound. Listened to it today after neglecting it for years and it shows some proto black metal tones, I had an "a ha!" moment as those dots connected in my own personal musical history.