Top 50 of the Nineties Part 2 (40-31)
Monday, October 3, 2005
(This is the second installment of marathonpacks’ Top 50 of the 90s list. To see #50-41, click here. The third installment, #30-21, will be posted Tuesday.)
40. Depeche Mode-Violator (Sire, 1990) (buy)
Serving diligently, along with Paul’s Boutique and, later, Nevermind as my Walkman-based school bus listening from eighth grade through the start of sophomore year, Violator has held up remarkably well for me over the years, holding the distinct honor of being the oldest record on this list. Never getting overwhelmed by the synthetic instrumentation that created it, Violator is chock full of near-perfect Martin Gore pop moments, including opener “World in my Eyes,” “Halo” and “Enjoy the Silence,” which benefitted from an awesome Anton Corbijn video that created the image of Dave Gahan I still have today. Depeche Mode’s career highpoint and untoppable best work.
Easily the first great Super Furry Animals album, and their last on independent label Flydaddy before making the jump to Epic. Guerrilla marks the last time that the Super Furrys would experiment with genre as a rule, and they did it perfectly here, adding that distinct element of manic, Welsh “Super Furriness” to any song–the cartoon-punk of “Do or Die,” the chopped-up, electronic “Wherever I Lay My Phone,” and the slow build of “Fire in my Heart” serving as perfect time capsule examples of their inventiveness. Nothing on this record surpasses the tropical-tinged creation tale “Northern Lites,” though, for sheer eclecticism and melodic ebullience.
38. Nirvana-Nevermind (DGC, 1991) (buy)
I remember rolling around in bed one November morning during my eighth grade year, flipping on the televison to MTV, and experiencing one of those semi-lucid dreams typically soundtracked by my clock radio, this time edited to match my first experience with “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” I, along with the metalhead I shared a bus seat with later that morning, had never heard anything like the song, and it marked the only common musical ground between us, other than the few seconds of Metallica’s simultaneously ubiquitous Black Album I could stomach. Nevermind definitely had its roots in metal, but also in “classic rock,” punk, and, most importantly, pop. Kurt Cobain knew how to write a hook, and this one, despite thousands of lame variations on its soft/loud form over the years, still sounds fresh. I was fully immersed in all manner of hip-hop at the time, but I still couldn’t shake this song’s appeal. Nevermind, on the whole, has indelibly established itself in my memory over the years, mostly through its omnipresence in the high school parking lot, on MTV (perhaps the last good thing they did for music), and, after a posthumous dash to classic status, sporadically throughout my freshman and sophomore years of college. The title of the Nirvana and Sonic Youth tour documentary, “1991: The Year that Punk Broke,” was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, but as a 14 year old, it was true–Nevermind was my introduction to punk music–and led me down the path toward The Pixies, The Meat Puppets, Husker Du, The Replacements, and, well, Sonic Youth.
37. Blur-The Great Escape (Food/Virgin 1995) (buy)
If this list were compiled in 1998, The Great Escape would easily coast into the top ten. I listened incessantly to this album for an entire year, during an collegiate Anglophilic musical phase that saw me amassing the complete discographies of not only the band under discussion, but also XTC and The Kinks, two of Escape’s clear influences. The album signified the first step taken by Blur toward post-“Girls and Boys” critical acceptance, and it remains one of the finest recorded piss-takes on middle-class British life, indulging in well-drawn character-based songs like Colin Moulding’s “Making Plans for Nigel” and Ray Davies’ “Situation Vacant.” “Fade Away” is a ska-rhythm fable of dysfunctional marriage, a distant English cousin to Steely Dan’s “Haitian Divorce.” Cynical, infectious album highlight “Country House” features the lyric “He’s reading Balzac/And knocking back Prozac/It’s a helping hand that makes you feel wonderfully bland,” but there’s a clear thread of empathy here that keeps the record from sinking into condescension, especially on “The Universal” and “He Thought of Cars.” Escape is still my favorite Blur record, even though I never found out what the hell a “Quango” is.
36. Dag-Righteous (Columbia, 1994) (buy)
From an earlier post: “The year 1994 was musically dominated by multi-platinum pop-punk and post-grunge bands, so it’s understandable that a group like Dag slipped by relatively unnoticed. I worked at a college radio station at the time, and the single “Lovely Jane” made its way into our rotation. A high-energy Prince-copping guitar and keyboard funk workout, it was impossible to program while maintaining some sort of musical flow. But after listening to the entire album (Righteous), I realized that it was full of stellar re-creations of the best 70’s and 80s funk and R&B moments, copping sounds and ideas from Stevie Wonder to Love Unlimited to, most impressively, the falsetto wonder of Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield. Dag began as a bar band from Chapel Hill, NC which, after being noticed by producer John Cutler (who wrote, arranged and produced the entire album), signed a deal with Columbia. Line-up changes affected the release and overall quality of follow-up Apartment 635, and the band faded away soon after.”–marathonpacks, August, 2005
35. Da Lench Mob-Guerrillas in tha Mist (Atco, 1992) (buy)
I remember watching the Rodney King trial on Court TV in 1992, and wincing when the prosecuting attorney played the tape of LAPD officer Lawrence Powell’s radio call, logged the same night of the fateful beating, describing a black family as “gorillas in the mist.” Two albums by two similarly minded hardcore rap artists rightfully reclaimed that horrible joke in subsequent months, Bay Area-based Paris as a song title, and Da Lench Mob for this record, the second-most impressive (after N.W.A.) example of politically-themed, LA-based hardcore rap of the early 90s. Second single “Freedom Got an A.K.” got my attention on BET’s “Rap City,” sampling Prince’s “Gett Off” to great effect. But it was “Buck tha Devil” that proved most effective and vehement track, offering an imagined response to a King-like situation in the future: “See the fuckin’ cop with the flattop/Standin’ over niggas face down on the blacktop/That shit’s gotta stop/So I kick the hip-hop/Pop that devil in his ass and make him flip-flop.” Whereas Dr. Dre reveled in the irresponsible aftermath of the King verdict on The Chronic, the Ice Cube-produced and managed Lench Mob planned revenge.
34. Thurston Moore-Psychic Hearts (Geffen, 1995) (buy)
No Sonic Youth records ended up on this list, but Dirty was the first one off. Sonic Youth were always one of those bands that I appreciated more in theory than practice–I was aware of their longevity and steadfast promotion of new artists (Nirvana, Pavement), but I could never manage to wrap my brain around any record of theirs after Daydream Nation. Psychic Hearts, on the other hand, attracted me–mainly due to single “Ono Soul,” which received a good amount of airplay at our college radio station and which a friend of mine used to soundtrack a student film. The rest of the album, with the obvious exception of the twenty-minute, useless “Elegy for All the Dead Rock Stars”, embraced everything I loved about Sonic Youth–rhythm, brevity, and an inclination toward songwriting clarity usually obscured by Kim Gordon and Lee Ranaldo, both missing here. “Psychic Hearts, ” in particular, is a sneering but heartfelt diary entry about a girl “growing up/in a stupid town/where no one knows/what you’re about” and “Patti Smith Math Scratch” channels Wire’s “Champs” to great effect. Psychic Hearts was the record where Thurston Moore could finally be as self-indulgent as he wanted to, and it worked.
Remembered by one of my friends as the album where Soul Coughing finally “wrote songs,” Irresistable Bliss was definitely a step toward commerciality from the definitely more critically revered Ruby Vroom. “Soft Serve,” “Soundtrack to Mary” and “The Idiot Kings” in particular border on the pop idiom, but are balanced by the meditative, repetitive “How Many Cans” and “Sleepless.” Soul Coughing always treaded precariously close to novelty, and the most indelible memories I have associated with this album are attempts to recreate Mike Doughty’s mathematically unique lyrical style–which were more fun here than on Vroom and completely, egregiously absent on the incredibly lame career-ender El Oso.
32. Paris-Sleeping with the Enemy (Scarface, 1992) (buy)
The fact that Paris didn’t end up in prison because of this album is amazing. Kurt Loder first informed me of Sleeping With the Enemy on MTV News’ “Week in Rock,” focusing on the assassination fantasy “Bush Killa.” The fact that Paris could include the lyric, “So where’s he at/I might wait for his muthafuckin’ ass on the rooftop next door” without being sent to Leavenworth is stunning, especially viewed through the lens of the current Bush administration where even the slightest form of dissent is unpatriotic and treasonous. Congruently, the fact that Paris’ lyrical vitriol was driven by the inordinate number of economically deprived African Americans sent to the first Iraq conflict remains crucially and sadly topical. The album as a whole is riveting, as Paris spits furious verses with an apocalyptic bent, attacking “devils” and “pigs” over pummeling Bomb Squad sirens (provided by a young, as-yet unheralded DJ Shadow) on tracks like “Make Way for a Panther” (“From the depths of hell, it was felt from all the fire and pain/As they rained on the brains of black men”) and rallying cry “Sleeping With the Enemy.” As a fifteen-year old white Midwestern high school sophomore, I tried my best to identify with Paris from a massive ideological distance—using it as a cathartic means to release my comparatively meek teenage angst. Most importantly, though, this album, which also contained literate, socially conscious tracks “The Days of Old” and “Assata’s Song,” taught me more about progressive, intelligent and revolutionary African-American ideology than any class I would take.
31. Wilco-Summerteeth (Warner Bros., 1999) (buy)
The album that moved Wilco from the ranks of trad-pop Americana to that of Critically Acclaimed Great Band. My first impressions of it were colored by direct comparisons to the massive, inspired double-album Being There, which, while still great, has long since been eclipsed by this one. Jeff Tweedy is still the unquestioned center of the band, but (as much as I hate to admit it) it’s the distinct instrumental quirkiness offered by multi-instrumentalist Jay Bennett that separates this record from its peers–the bells on “Can’t Stand It,” the Farfisa on “We’re Just Friends,” the subtle backmasking on “How to Fight Loneliness,” and the proto-Foxtrot ham-radio squelch of “Via Chicago.” Tweedy’s knack for catchy power-pop remains unchallenged, however, on the Beatle-esque “A Shot in the Arm,” “Nothing’severgonnastandinmyway(again),” and especially “I’m Always in Love.” Summerteeth, more than Being There or A.M., is the first Wilco album I consider essential.
Filed under: 90s autobiography Blur canon creation Da Lench Mob Dag Depeche Mode list Nirvana Paris Soul Coughing Super Furry Animals Thurston Moore Wilco
This list has so far been brilliant and I’ve really enjoyed reading it. I haven’t listened to a lot of these albums and your inclusion of the highlights is really helpful. Thanks for this
since we are in praise mode & i seem to be doing a lot of that these days…
definitely agree with punky! I thought I knew a ton about music but after reading Eric’s blog, I am very much humbled. It goes back to an old philosphy (which I need to renew) is in life if you are not learning something new everyday then you are not living…….
you both are entirely too kind. thanks a lot!
i can’t believe you listened to all this hardcore rap. was this during your “picking up hitchhikers” phase?