#470: The Go-Go's - Beauty and the Beat (1981)

Zack: Emily kept insisting that this album would actually be good, and I am shocked to announce that she was right. I was dubious because, while I do know the song We Got the Beat and think it’s catchy, we’ve been burned a lot by New Wave albums that we picked because that one song is good (see: Cell, Soft). But the entire album is just poppy songs with great hooks. It kind of sounds like the feeling of jumping on a trampoline. It’s an album made almost entirely of songs to set movie montages to. As a result, while this certainly will not go down as my favorite album from this batch of 100, it definitely won’t be making the least favorite list, and for a New Wave album that’s about all that you can ask.

Favorite Tracks: Our Lips Are Sealed; We Got the Beat; How Much More

Emily: After a long hiatus (and two months of nearly non-stop work on one case), I'm back on my album-listening grind. And what a lovely way to jump back in with The Go-Go's. It's a super fun, positive jaunt that, as Zack described, feels like it would fit perfectly in any prom-night-getting-ready or windows-down-car-singalong montage in a teen movie from 1981 to today. That's particularly true for the iconic singles We Got the Beat, featured on the Jimmy Neutron soundtrack, the staple of my childhood that I've mentioned here many times before, and Our Lips Are Sealed, which for my '90s-'00s generation had both an eponymous Mary-Kate and Ashley movie and a Hilary and Haylie Duff cover. I'm pretty sure anyone alive since 1981 knows both of those songs, and most of them probably know the words well enough to bust them out at karaoke. Sometimes you just need a burst of fun from your music, and Beauty and the Beat certainly has delivered that for almost 40 years and counting.

Favorite Tracks: Our Lips Are Sealed; We Got the Beat; Tonite

#456: The Beach Boys - Surf's Up (1971)

Emily: For the uninitiated (i.e., me), one might think that Surf's Up is a classic Beach Boys album of the Surfin' Safari, going-to-the-beach-with-pretty-girls variety. The fact that the album is from 1971, though, should give you a heads-up that this isn't actually a frothy pop Americana album about surfing. It's nearly ten years after the group started, and a few years after they started to move into more complex and psychedelic sound. So, as the music and album art make abundantly clear, the title Surf's Up is an ironic nod to the band's surf-rock roots, while the music delves further into psychedelia while maintaining some pop roots. The result was the Beach Boys' strongest commercial success in several years, and it's easy to see why. The album combines lush harmonies and soundscapes with socially-conscious and inventive lyrics, creating a sound that is both innovative and approachable that leaves you wanting to know where the Beach Boys would take their sound next.
Favorite Tracks: Surf's Up; Long Promised Road; Student Demonstration Time

Zack: I would have liked to get nostalgic about the Beach Boys, but apparently I didn’t do a great job of remembering the time we listened to Pet Sounds. I thought it was summer 2011, but couldn’t remember if it was June or July. Turns out I was way off. We listened to Pet Sounds December of 2010, making it the 34^th album we reviewed (including the 9 to start). Whoops. My excuse is that Pet Sounds is such a perfect summer album that it temporarily transported me forward in time when I listened to it. I love Pet Sounds. It’s just such a great pop treat. And a result is that when I put it on again in the summer of 2012, I decided I wanted to broaden my Beach Boys horizons. So I totally legally went about totally legally obtaining the Beach Boys entire discography through totally legal means. I remember initiating this totally legal process and then going to get a sandwich from the Grilled Cheese truck on Norris St. in front of what I want to say was Boyer Hall. I made my way through a lot of that totally legal discography over the next few weeks, and I do remember doing that. I skipped over Surf’s Up and Today! because they were both on the list, but I was familiar with their positions in the discography and both of their legacies. So I knew that the title Surf’s Up is ironic, and I knew about the frankly awesome cover art. Still, Surf’s Up caught me a little off-guard. It’s just so far removed from the poppy sound of Pet Sounds. There are elements of psychedelic rock and prog rock and lots else blended in. And it’s all really good. I was, frankly, quite impressed that the same band that made Pet Sounds could make something equally good but so dramatically different. Surf’s Up is easily a classic album, and I’m glad I got to listen to it actually during the summer for a change (although this one will probably also get posted in December).

Favorite Tracks: Surf’s Up; Student Demonstration Time; A Day in the Life of a Tree

#452: Michael Jackson - Off the Wall (1979)

Zack: After a short, two-album detour, we are once again boarding the Nostalgia Express. This is the second Michael Jackson album we’ve listened to. The first was Thriller, which we listened to on vinyl in Emily’s parents’ basement, I want to say after a riveting game of Mario Kart (but don’t quote me on that last part.) That was super early on, and if we were at Emily’s parents’ house, it would probably be December 2010 or January 2011. So…I’m guessing like 6 and a half years ago. Thriller is unassailable, so of course Off the Wall doesn’t quite compare. But it’s still an excellent album filled with timeless goodies. Michael Jackson truly was a singular talent, and Off the Wall is just further proof of what we all already knew.

Favorite Tracks: Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough; I Can’t Help It; Rock With You

Emily: Off the Wall was Michael Jackson's first album post-Jackson 5 and post-Motown. It was the first time he had some modicum of creative freedom to develop his own sound, and he used that freedom to explore pop ballads, up-tempo funk and disco, and now-classic R&B and soul. The album succeeds across all of these genres, all of which are tied together by Michael's one-of-a-kind voice. Off the Wall has some classics in its own right, and even more importantly serves as a starting point for the even-greater pop excellence of Thriller and Bad.

Favorite Tracks: Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough; Rock With You; She's Out of My Life

#448: Aimee Mann - Whatever (1993)

Zack: I had this album classified as folk, but given the fact that it came out in the 90s and the album title is basically a disaffected and angst-y shrug, I kind of guessed I was off. Sure enough, this album has much more in common with Tori Amos or Jeff Buckley than Joni Mitchell or Cat Stevens. But what really stands out from Whatever isn’t anything about genre but the songwriting. It was sort of Costello-ish in that regard. Everything seemed direct and personal and wry. I didn’t really notice the lyrics until about halfway through the album, which was about when my interest perked up. I’m definitely going to have to block off time to go back and investigate how witty she is in the first half.

Favorite Tracks: Say Anything; Jacob Marley’s Chain; I Could’ve Hurt You Now

Emily: In the midst of a '90s nostalgia boom, where there's seriously a show on MTV called '90s House in which a bunch of clueless millennials complete cheesy challenges only with access to '90s-era technology (and outfits), Aimee Mann's debut album fits right in. Whatever really embodies that early-'90s alt-rock-pop sound that invaded albums and airwaves after Nevermind. The lyrics are where it really shines, though, with clever riffs and conversational confessions. I really enjoyed both the sound and the songwriting of this album, and as with most lyric-heavy albums, it will definitely be worth delving deeper into it in the future.

Favorite Tracks: Say Anything; 4th of July; Stupid Thing

#439: The Carpenters - Close to You (1970)

Zack: Close to You is a good, nondescript '70s pop album. Let’s get that out of the way first. It’s an enjoyable enough listen, I’m sure it was plenty influential, and although I didn’t love it by any stretch of the imagination I have absolutely no problem with its inclusion. Now that all that is covered, let’s talk about Mr. Guder. I didn’t really like the song, but even on a first listen I could tell it was a weird tonal shift. Up to that point, like 80% of the songs had been love songs and 90% had been covers. And then we get to Mr. Guder and I’m wondering if I just heard the word robot. Did I hear that right? Turns out I did, because The Carpenters apparently wrote a song mocking their old boss at Disneyland and named it directly after him. No fake name or anything like that. Basically, they pioneered the diss track. What a legendary “fuck you” moment! I wish I was musically talented because there are definitely like 2-3 former bosses in my life that need '70s-pop-based middle fingers.

Favorite Tracks: (They Long to Be) Close to You; Crescent Moon; We’ve Only Just Begun

Emily: The cover art on Close to You pretty much epitomizes what the album sounds like. You have a '70s-ish font and a picture of a young '70s couple looking like they're posing for the photo to accompany their engagement announcement in a local newspaper. She's wearing a flower-child flowy white dress with a middle part in her hair that looks like the same style my aunt had as a teenager, and the guy has a brown blazer, a shirt with a giant pointy collar, and a feathered Partridge Family 'do. They're sitting on some rocks with a river and a mountain in the background. The overall effect is wholesome, pleasant, and somewhat generic. And that's exactly what I thought of this album. It was an enjoyable listen and certainly a product of its time, but I know it's not going to stick with me.

Favorite Tracks: (They Long to Be) Close to You; Baby It's You; Love is Surrender

#413: Christina Aguilera - Back to Basics (2006)

Emily: As anyone who knows me well can attest, I love me some late-'90s/early-'00s pop jams. Just the other day my mom and I got our backseat groove on to the "Britney Body Workout" Spotify playlist (highly recommended for both working out and car dancing). Back when that music was actually popular, I generally preferred Britney to Christina. Christina obviously has the better voice, but Britney had the better songs out the gate. That voice, though, is the reason that Christina has been able to really diversify and change her sound over the years. Nowhere is that more apparent than on Back to Basics. The early-20th century big-band horns really complement her powerhouse-diva voice. Although the album is way too long (seriously, no album needs to be more than an hour) and overstuffed with unnecessary balladry, the best tracks are truly great pop songs from one of the greatest pop talents. They stand up today, over 10 years later, and rightfully hold a place on any '00s pop playlist.
Favorite Tracks: Ain't No Other Man; Candyman; Slow Down Baby

Zack: Christina Aguilera has been part of pop culture pretty much since I became aware that music was a thing that people listened to for enjoyment. Throughout all that time, she has gone through a number of versions. Back to Basics Christina is by far my favorite. Of all the pop stars of her era, I think she has by far the best voice (Mariah is one generation older of course), and pairing that with more of a big band sound really lets her show it off. I have an aforementioned bias against double albums, but this is one of the rare occasions where there is enough good content to almost warrant it. Almost.

Favorite Tracks: Ain’t No Other Man; Without You; Candyman

#398: George Michael - Faith (1987)

Zack: Faith is George Michael’s first solo album after leaving Wham!, and it pretty much defined what everybody will think of him from the day it was released until the end of time. The song Faith was so big that even I, with my general dislike of anything from the 80s, could not possibly hope to escape it growing up. I never liked that song, and so I didn’t expect to like this album. And parts of it I really didn’t like. But there were other parts that really won me over. The main one was Kissing a Fool, which was sung so perfectly that I was kind of shocked that this gem had followed the shittiness that is Monkey (I know that the song went #1 on Billboard as a single but it still sucks; fight me if you care so much about it.) When Michael slowed down and allowed more soul influences to bleed through, I was really impressed. When he let the 80s flow through him with corny upbeat pop bullshit, I was left pretty dour. Except for the 9-minute song explicitly about fucking, that is.

Favorite Tracks: Kissing a Fool; Look at Your Hands; I Want Your Sex

Emily: Many of the pop albums that we listen to affirm my belief that pop is a genre of singles, not albums. A great pop song can transcend genre and generations, but more often than not those great songs are featured on albums padded with filler that barely deserves to share a track listing with them. Of course, there are exceptions to this (Michael Jackson particularly comes to mind, but Thriller ended up being essentially all singles anyway). George Michael's Faith, unfortunately, lives up to the great-single-bad-album rule. Faith is upbeat and impossibly catchy, reminiscent of Michael's earlier band Wham, and the radio appeal of Father Figure and I Want Your Sex is clear. The rest of the album, however, feels like unnecessary filler. With the exception of the unexpected throwback soul of Kissing a Fool, the non-single parts of Faith don't even come close to the pop success of the title track.

Favorite Tracks: Faith; I Want Your Sex; Kissing a Fool

#386: Sister Sledge - We Are Family (1979)

Emily: As soon as I turned on this album I was immediately transported to car rides with my mom. She and I both love to sing along (poorly) with the radio, and disco hits are some of the best fodder for an afternoon of carpool karaoke. The first track on this album, He's the Greatest Dancer, has definitely been in that rotation, along with the iconic title track that has been a staple at weddings and bar mitzvahs for decades. Disco may catch some heat as a genre, but when Sister Sledge up the R&B grooves alongside the dance fever, it makes for an album perfect for singing, dancing, and grooving - especially from the comfort of your car.
Favorite Tracks: He's the Greatest Dancer; We Are Family; One More Time

Zack: It’s fitting that right before I begin my annual music marathon where I catch up on all the new albums I missed over the course of the year while I was being productive, in what I’ve heard was yet another great year for the Philadelphia music scene, we came across Philadelphia’s own Sister Sledge. Everyone knows Sister Sledge from their hit song We Are Family, which is featured in approximately 40% of all movie soundtracks. But apparently that song was on an album, which had other songs besides We Are Family on it. There were as many as seven other songs, in fact! I know, it’s shocking. Most of the other songs have the same sort of feel to them as We Are Family, with that upbeat disco/soul vibe to them. Which is to say it was quite the pleasant listen. Overall, I probably won’t revisit this album ever again, and it’s a long way away from my favorite Philly albums of all time, but it was exactly what it needed to be and you can’t fault it for that.
Favorite Tracks: We Are Family; You’re a Friend to Me; He’s the Greatest Dancer

#375: Randy Newman - Sail Away (1972)

Emily: The only reason I even know who Randy Newman is is You've Got a Friend in Me. Toy Story was one of my favorite movies as a kid, and I still maintain that it is the best Pixar movie even after 20 years of Pixar movies. So I kind of expected that Sail Away would sound like the simple folk-pop of You've Got a Friend in Me and the rest of the Toy Story soundtrack, even though the albums were recorded over 20 years apart in time. Turns out I was pretty much right, though. The style of Sail Away is very similar to the Toy Story sound - pop songs with pretty piano arrangements and simple lyrics that make for a wholly enjoyable listen. Perhaps that's why Pixar tapped Newman for the soundtrack in the first place.
Favorite Tracks: Political Science; Dayton, Ohio - 1903; Last Night I Had a Dream

Zack: Randy Newman is best known today for writing music for Pixar films. Unfortunately, I am apparently the only person from my generation who is ambivalent to Pixar, so this doesn’t do a hell of a lot for me. I went into Sail Away mostly curious if Newman always sang that way or if his current voice was some terrible accident. Turns out that he’s the only singer from the 1970s who sounds the same today. It also turns out that he’s a lyrical genius. His song Last Night I Had a Dream perfectly captures what it’s like to try and explain your dream to someone. And I quote (clears throat):

Last night I had a dream

You were in it, I was in it with you
Everyone that I knew
And everyone that you know was in my dream
I saw a vampire
I saw a ghost
Everybody scared me but you sacred me the most
In the dream I had last night
In the dream I had last night
In my dream

It started out in a barnyard at sundown

And everyone was laughing and you were lying on the ground
You said, "Honey, can you tell me what you name is?"
"Honey, can you tell me what your name is?"
I said, "You know what my name is."

Last night I had a dream
You were in it, I was in it with you
Everyone that I knew
And everyone that you know was in my dream
I saw a vampire
I saw a ghost
Everybody scared me but you sacred me the most
In the dream I had last night
In the dream I had last night
In my dream

Absolute magic. The rising action. The character development. The romantic subplot. Simply superb. In all honesty, not every song was as vapid as Last Night I Had a Dream. Some, like Political Science, had real heart to it (although it certainly is not up to the statistical methods of the field even in his era, but I suppose I’ll let that go). They’re almost all backed by a soothing piano. Nothing on Sail Away was particularly exciting, but it was a simple and fun listen.

Favorite Tracks: Political Science; Lonely at the Top; You Can Leave Your Hat On

#364: The Monkees - Headquarters (1967)

Zack: Ah The Monkees. The giant bag of Fruit Whirls on the bottom shelf of the grocery store that your Mom hovered over for a second, weighing the savings against the sin she would commit, before grabbing the box of Fruit Loops like a true American…of bands. I never heard much about them growing up, so my socialized view is pretty much entirely based upon that flashback scene in The Simpsons when little-kid Marge is told by a bully on the bus that the band on her lunchbox doesn’t record their own music and she has a total breakdown. Apparently, that phase was only temporary. Headquarters actually was primarily written and played by the members of the band, rather than no-name scrubs. It was the first album where they were given the freedom to do so, and they enjoyed an entire week as the top-selling album as a result before the Fruit Loops ended up in the cart in the form of Sgt. Pepper’s being released. And while I’m happy for them, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s pretty boring. It’s sort of like the Drake-Meek Mill beef that is recent as of when I wrote this post: Is it worse to have a ghostwriter or to live with the shame of having actually written bars as bad as some of Meek Mill’s? Headquarters was pretty dull from start to finish. Part of that is probably due to my general disinterest toward the Beatles, the band they were so blatantly emulating, which I’ve discussed on here numerous times. But part just has to be due to how uninspired everything feels. It’s almost like they were a complete corporate project, assembled by a soulless record company that could not possibly comprehend how to build a heart into its design. I give The Monkees a lot of credit for trying to insert their own heart here, but it just seems like maybe they should have left it to the professionals.

Favorite Tracks: Sunny Girlfriend; Forget That Girl; No Time

Emily: My knowledge of the Monkees only stems from watching Brady Bunch reruns as a kid, where there were multiple (I think) episodes where Marsha is really into Davy Jones and then Davy Jones actually shows up. I'm not sure where the Monkees and the Brady Bunch intersect as TV shows and pop culture touchstones, but they definitely have the same aesthetic going on. Both are cheery, family-friendly, and not all that substantial - much like Zack's aforementioned sugary breakfast cereals, in fact. Headquarters is supposedly the Monkees first "real" album, in that they actually sang and played the instruments themselves, but that doesn't stop it from being sugary, manufactured pop. It's a fairly enjoyable way to spend 30 minutes, but you'll forget about almost as soon as the last notes play.

Favorite Tracks: Sunny Girlfriend; For Pete's Sake; No Time

#359: Carole King - Tapestry (1971)

Zack: I originally listened to Tapestry sometime in early June I think. I then didn’t bother to write a review. By the time I remembered that that was a thing I was supposed to do, I had absolutely no recollection of this album other than a vague memory of liking it. Instead of faking it, I resolved to relisten to it. Once again, I liked it. But apparently the main problem wasn’t that I couldn’t remember what I had thought but that I hadn’t thought much beyond that it was a good album. Tapestry has a certain timelessness to it. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see it had been released at any point between 1965 and 1996. But that it could so easily slip into so many decades has more to do with a lack of anything distinctive or exciting enough that would tie it to a certain point in musical history. Let me put it this way: I’ve been listening to A$AP Rocky’s ALLA a lot lately. That album is very good, although I don’t know if I would call it great. Tapestry is probably objectively better. But musically it is very clearly an album from this decade. It couldn’t have come out at any other time. A Rod Stewart feature credit wouldn’t have the same sort of ridiculous effect it has now. And there’s something very comforting in knowing the context that an album belongs in. I didn’t get that with Tapestry. It was a pleasant album that isn’t really bounded to anything. It’s just songs. Good songs, to be sure. But without something more attached to it, I was struggling to find any reason to cherish it.

Favorite Tracks: Will You Love Me Tomorrow?; You’ve Got a Friend; So Far Away

Emily: Tapestry has a feeling of familiarity to it. I was surprised at how many songs I recognized (even 40+ years after the album was released), and I definitely enjoyed the 45 minutes I spent listening to songs both familiar and unfamiliar. However, I do agree with Zack that there wasn't much to distinguish this albums from others of its era and genre. It was pleasant and enjoyable, but I don't think it's going to stand out in my mind when it comes to our next awards post.

Favorite Tracks: Will You Love Me Tomorrow?; You've Got a Friend; It's Too Late

#342: Rod Stewart - Every Picture Tells A Story (1971)

Zack: I’m not sure why I’m writing this review. My brother already nailed it in a text a few days before I listened to this album. “I mean rod stewart would make ur panties wet if you were 60.” That’s it. Wrap it up. We’re not doing any better than that. But since I have to at least try, if only to make that above sentence seem even better by comparison, then let me just say that this album was like a cornier Tom Petty. It was generally inoffensive, if bland, but that’s about all that I would be willing to say. Some songs seemed okay. Some seemed less okay. That’s really about it. Unless you’re 60, that is.

Favorite Tracks: (I Know) I’m Losing You; Maggie May; Every Picture Tells a Story

Emily: The extent of my knowledge of Rod Stewart is that he sings Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?, the favorite karaoke song of lounge lizards everywhere. So you can imagine my surprise when Every Picture Tells A Story was essentially a blues-rock album. I was expecting old-guy pop, and I got the singer for Jeff Beck. This was early in Stewart's career, though, so I guess he made a few changes to his style further down the line. That's kind of a shame though, because Stewart's raspy voice is really well-suited to the blues-folk-psychedelic-rock styles of the late '60s and early '70s. This wasn't the best incarnation of those genres that we've listened to by a long shot, but it was interesting to spend 45 minutes with young Rod Stewart before he became the sleazy-listening kind of guy we (or at least I) think of today.

Favorite Tracks: (I Know) I'm Losing You; That's All Right; Maggie May

#326: ABBA - Arrival (1976)

Emily: My mom absolutely hates ABBA. She was a teenager in the '70s, and I'm pretty sure she yelled at her radio to turn off Dancing Queen every time a pop station played it - which in 1976 was approximately every other song. ABBA comes up on the radio significantly less often now, but I'm sure she'll do the same thing. Even when the '90s neo-ABBA pop group A*Teens came along to Radio Disney with covers of Dancing Queen and Mamma Mia and equally sugary pop confections like Upside Down, she would turn the songs off immediately unless I protested. Yes, despite my mom's hatred, I liked A*Teens as a kid. Now, does that translate to liking ABBA now? Not quite. Arrival is brainless pop music meant to be danced to in 3-minute intervals, not savored as a full-length album. I'll take the shimmery Euro-disco fun that is Dancing Queen once in a while, but I didn't really need a half hour of it.
Favorite Tracks: Dancing Queen; Money, Money, Money; Dum Dum Diddle

Zack: I’m not sure I could turn the volume low enough on my iPod and still be able to hear enough that I could, in all good faith, write a review. I spent my morning walk to school nervously glancing over my shoulders every six seconds to make sure no one knew I was listening to ABBA. Hopefully everyone just thought I was being followed or was an escaped convict instead of what would have truly elicited judgment form my peers. I mean, it’s ABBA. Even if this albums sold several trillion copies (all numbers approximate), it still made a music journalist write “By reducing their already vapid lyrics to utter irrelevance, lead singers Anni-Frid Lyngstad and Agnetha Fältskog are liberated to matter on in their shrill voices without regard to emotion or expression,” Reread that quote. And know that, even if you like this album (which I’m already 100% positive Emily will), that statement is completely and obviously true. The songs are designed to be as shallow, repetitive, and uncomfortably upbeat as possible. I’m almost a little ashamed to admit that I’m kind of impressed by it. I have a longstanding hatred for The Black Eyed Peas for doing the same thing, but here it kind of feels at least a little sincere, as opposed to a concerted effort to make music for commercials and bar mitzvah royalty checks. I may not have liked this album. I may be moments away from scrubbing it out of my iTunes with digital bleach. But I respect that ABBA made the exact album they wanted to make in as unabashed a fashion as they could.

Favorite Tracks: Dancing Queen; Money, Money, Money; Why Did it Have to Be Me?

#325: Big Star - #1 Record (1972)

Zack: I’ve wanted to listen to this album forever now. I kept nominating it like every time it was time to pick a new batch, and it always got looked over. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single Big Star song I’d ever heard, and all I’d ever read about the band or this album was that it was the epitome of critical darling, commercial failure. It gave it an air of mystery. Now that I’ve actually listened to it, I have to say that it didn’t quite live up to my lofty expectations. I was really expecting to be blown away, but instead I got a very consistent, very enjoyable album. My life remains unchanged. But it was definitely an album that I want to listen to a few more times, and I’m hopeful that more realistic expectations for a second go around will help.

Favorite Tracks: The Ballad of El Gordo; Watch the Sunrise; My Life is Right

Emily: I think the reason I apparently passed over Big Star so many times is because I had absolutely no idea who they were. Zack put them in the "classic rock" genre, but how could they be classic if I didn't even know their name? Turns out their cult following and critical acclaim, as well as emergence in the '60s and '70s, rightfully places them in the category of classic rock. That, and their power-pop-rock stylings that Wikipedia describes as drawing "on the vocal harmonies of The Beatles, as well as the swaggering rhythms of The Rolling Stones and the jangling guitars of The Byrds," which is a super-accurate description if you ask me. This album didn't really do anything new, but it definitely did it well. Plus, In the Street was later covered by Cheap Trick and used as the That '70s Show theme song. As That '70s Show is both one of my favorite sitcoms and favorite sitcom theme songs, that's totally a plus in my book for Big Star.

Favorite Tracks: In the Street; Watch the Sunrise; When My Baby's Beside Me

#313: Sheryl Crow - Tuesday Night Music Club (1993)

Emily: Sheryl Crow's All I Wanna Do is a great song. It's not a song you go out of your way to listen to, but when it comes up when you're scanning radio stations in the car you always stop on it. It's upbeat, poppy and sunny and singalong-able, and it tells a clever story. Parts of the lyrics are apparently drawn from a poem that Crow's producer found in an anthology while working on the album, which were then properly attributed to the poet and brought him newfound recognition and success. Good job, pop music! Unfortunately, for all the praise I can heap onto All I Wanna Do, the rest of Sheryl Crow's debut doesn't live up to its most famous single. It's a perfectly pleasant collection of country-twinged, adult-contemporary pop songs, but nothing really stood out beyond All I Wanna Do. For a debut, though, it shows songwriting promise and prowess, which Crow uses even today for her continued success.
Favorite Tracks: All I Wanna Do; Solidify; Can't Cry Anymore

Zack: I’m fairly certain my mom owns this album, not because I’ve seen her listen to it but because this is a total Mom album. Sixty percent of this album’s sales were to women with at least two kids who just want to cut loose and pretend to think about taking a vacation for 50 minutes. Musically, it is seriously that bland. It’s just sort of vaguely pleasant in a way that makes the album generally unassuming. Which is actually fine. I don’t want to come off like I’m bullying this album too much. It was fine for a poppy break, and the lyrics that I picked up on were pretty clever bits of writing. I can’t say that I plan on relistening to it at any point, but I wouldn’t say it was a waste of my time. Take that however you wish.

Favorite Tracks: All I Wanna Do; We Do What We Can; Leaving Las Vegas

#301: Harry Nilsson - Nilsson Schmilsson (1971)

Emily: "You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up." That line has become a part of popular culture, but how many people actually know where it comes from? Frankly, before today I had zero idea. I thought it came from a movie or TV show, or perhaps a commercial advertising Jamaican resort vacations. In fact, the line comes from a kitschy song, Coconut, off of Nilsson Schmilsson, a 1971 album by Harry Nilsson. The song is written by Nilsson himself, but Wikipedia isn't exactly clear on why or how. While Coconut has a novelty island flavor, it doesn't really fit with the adult-contemporary pop-rock of the rest of Nilsson Schmilsson. Nilsson's style draws on R&B and blues as equally as rock & roll and '60s pop. Although Nilsson doesn't really do anything new with this combo of influences, the result is a pleasant collection of radio-friendly drive-time pop and soft rock songs - along with a 4-minute escape to the Caribbean.
Favorite Tracks: Gotta Get Up; Jump Into the Fire; Without You

Zack: We got that 300 award post up just in time for each of our lives to be swallowed up by our respective post-undergrad education hells. Last semester, I was able to remain semi-productive in the blog endeavor by listening to albums while I graded. Unfortunately, my grading requirements for this semester are a little less mindless than for an intro stats course, so that route may be out. So today I tried out listening to a blog album while working on my Maximum Likelihood Estimation homework. Big mistake. I don’t know if any of either of you readers have ever used Stata, but it can be kind of a frustrating experience, no matter how much experience you have. Pretty much once a song, some command wouldn’t work for some stupid reason and I’d end up shouting obscenities at Harry Nilsson’s stupid voice for obviously jinxing me. In retrospect, he does not in fact have a stupid voice. But it’s become clear to me that MLE homework time is Zack-blasts-rap-into-his-earholes time, and it’s a shame that poor Mr. Nilsson and his stupid name and stupid album title had to suffer because I made such an innocent mistake. I don’t think I can revisit the album without rage washing over me like some sort of abused Pavlovian dog, so he’s not getting a second chance. But maybe if I did, I would stop thinking that that stupid fucking Coconut song was the dumbest few minutes ever committed to record.

Favorite Tracks: Down; Jump Into the Fire; Gotta Get Up

#291: Elvis Presley - Elvis Presley (1956)

Emily: I'm kind of surprised it took us nearly 300 albums to get to Elvis, because when you think (okay, when I think) of rock and roll in the '50s, Elvis is who immediately comes to mind. Just think about it: in a soda shop, with girls in poodle skirts - Elvis has to be playing on the jukebox. His music really defined the era by taking rock and roll to the mainstream. From this self-titled debut album, it's easy to see why it caught on. The songs are breezy and catchy, with blues rhythms that take out the emotion and replace them with upbeat rockabilly. It's a simple formula to get heads turning and toes tapping. This formula didn't start with Elvis, but he definitely honed it in his early career. And in all walks of pop-music life, it's been imitated ever since.
Favorite Tracks: Blue Suede Shoes; Blue Moon; Tutti Frutti

Zack: I listened to this album while organizing my loose change into those little sleeve things since apparently my local bank exists in a parallel universe where there aren’t coin counting machines, perhaps one where this album was just released. The task was mindless in just the right way that I was able to still focus on the album completely, which is good since my first real exposure to Elvis was through his ongoing beef with Eminem. It was very brisk and had a certain classic feel to it. All of the songs were sort of…simple. All the songs are about either seducing a girl, being in love with a girl, or having your heart broken by a girl (which I’m now referring to as the songwriter life cycle). Obviously Elvis didn’t invent the music he’s so strongly associated with from scratch and it isn’t fair to just say that this is a starting point in popular rock and roll, but what’s notable about Elvis Presley the album and the artist more generally is how sturdy a foundation was left for everyone that followed. I liked Elvis’s debut as an album, but I really appreciated it more as a blueprint for everything else that came after.

Favorite Songs: Blue Suede Shoes; I Love You Because; Tutti Frutti

#287: Tina Turner - Private Dancer (1984)

Emily: Tina Turner started out as an R&B singer with her husband Ike, who is perhaps better known for his abusive tendencies than his music. I thought she broke out and got her solo start during the late '70s, embracing disco with the likes of Diana Ross. Turns out she stayed with Ike a bit longer than that, and her post-divorce debut was Private Dancer in 1984. She makes a clean break from her old persona, eschewing R&B in favor of shimmering pop, rock, and dance music. What keeps this album from blending in with other '80s pop, though, is Tina Turner's powerful and emotional delivery of the lyrics. Whether it's a storytelling ballad (Private Dancer), a funked-out cover of an R&B classic (Let's Stay Together), or a new pop anthem (What's Love Got to Do With It), Turner's soul-powered voice sets her apart from all of her influences and imitators.
Favorite Tracks: What's Love Got to Do With It; Private Dancer; Let's Stay Together

Zack: I’ll admit that I’ve never really listened to anything by Tina or Ike Turner, with the lone exception being Every Planet We Reach is Dead off of Gorillaz’s Demon Days. I don’t even know the words to a single Tina Turner song, which somehow just feels wrong to say. Additionally, I accidentally refer to this album as “Tiny Dancer” frequently. I’m not ashamed of that last point at all because it always makes me think of a miniature Tina Turner, like a little Tina Turner Tinkerbell, dancing around provocatively, and then I giggle. But the first two confessions I am ashamed of. And I’m glad I get to correct them here. On that note, Private Dancer was pretty good. According to Wikipedia, 70 percent of it became a single. That makes sense, since each and every song seems to have been crafted to blow up on the radio. I think that is the perfect measuring stick of a pop album, too. I was most strongly drawn to a lot of what Wikipedia assures me are the biggest hits – What’s Love Got to Do with It, Let’s Stay Together, and Better Be Good to Me specifically. I don’t know if I would really characterize Private Dancer as a great R&B album (and all that that entails) but I thought it was a great pop album.

Favorite Tracks: I Can’t Stand the Rain; Better Be Good to Me; What’s Love Got to Do with It

#280: John Lennon - Imagine (1971)

Emily: In terms of Beatle preferences, I'm more of a McCartney fan than a Lennon fan. I just tend to prefer McCartney's simpler, poppier style over Lennon's world-weariness and experimentation. Lennon is a legend in his own right, and on his own he really gets to explore different styles and ambition. Though the give-peace-a-chance title track is the best-known song on this album - and perhaps the best-known solo Lennon song period - Imagine really gets its fire when Lennon gets angry and brings out the rock & roll. Nowhere is this more evident than on the McCartney-attacking How Do You Sleep?, a fiery rock track brimming with rage and guitars. McCartney still may be my favorite Beatle, but I'm not exactly rushing to defend him after spending a bit more time with Lennon on his own.
Favorite Tracks: How Do You Sleep?; I Don't Want to be a Soldier; Imagine

Zack: I’ve made it no secret that I’m not that into the Beatles, but maybe I should be more specific. I think John Lennon is wildly overrated. Is that clear enough? Don’t want there to be any confusion over where I’m coming from. That said, Imagine is a pretty good album. Not fantastic, not mind-meltingly fantastic. Maybe you could persuade me to go as far as really good, but certainly no further. But, hey, maybe I’m missing something here. Maybe I just don’t see the beauty underneath the bubblegum. I’m open to persuasion, but look convincing me otherwise.

Favorite Tracks: Jealous Guy; Imagine; How Do You Sleep?

#275: The Everly Brothers - A Date with the Everly Brothers (1960)

Zack: When we initially picked this batch, I understand that Emily’s main reason for selecting this album was, “one of those dudes died recently.” By the time you read this, I’m sure it won’t be that recently. And I also hope that Kid Rock keeps alive and kickin’ for as long as possible. Nevertheless, I’m really glad she did because this album was a real pleasant surprise. The Everly Brothers sound a bit like Simon and Garfunkel were bred in captivity with the Beatles, then those genes were spliced with some random country guitar player who is charged with nothing more than standing in the background and trying not to stand too close to the spittoon. None of those acts are my favorite in the world (although the third is sure close), but they each work in their own way and still sound great when combined. A Date with the Everly Brothers just worked from start to finish and you could hear the influence they’ve had in every harmony.

Favorite Tracks: Stick with Me Baby; Love Hurts; Cathy’s Clown

Emily: As Zack mentioned, one of my reasons for picking this album was because Phil Everly had recently passed away and, as a result, his name and brotherly band were in the news. My other reason was that I had also recently listened to Foreverly, an album of Everly Brothers covers by Billie Joe Armstrong and Norah Jones. In their duets, Billie Joe and Norah reinterpret a '50s Everly Brothers album, Songs Our Daddy Taught Us. That album, as the name implies, is a collection of folk and country standards that the Everlys learned growing up. Though I haven't listened to the original, Foreverly combines beautiful harmonies with simple country undertones and surprisingly dark lyrics - an interesting and worthwhile listen. So that's what I expected going into A Date with the Everly Brothers - country-tinged folk, traditional yet dark lyrics, and harmonized duets. Aside from the harmonies, the two albums ended up not having much in common. Recorded and released in 1960, A Date with the Everly Brothers takes on pop and rock & roll without entirely losing the brothers' country roots. The resulting (original) music, combined with those signature harmonies, is early pop music at some of its best. Its influence on later '60s artists is clear, and it still completely holds up for a modern listener to enjoy.

Favorite Tracks: Cathy's Clown; Sigh Cry Almost Die; Donna Donna