These are personal stories about the first time I heard an album, not lurid Behind the Music type tales of debauchery. You’ll have to wait for posthumous memoirs for that.
Captain Beefheart & his Magic Band – Trout Mask Replica (1969)
Let’s start with my origin story! When I was young my mom and I lived with my grandparents. My uncle for some reason left his record collection behind (his wife was not a music fan), and by the time I was four, I was playing random records on the basement “console” (what they called the late 50s model TV/radio/stero and bourbon glass storage unit) and discovered what I assumed was a children’s record — Trout Mask Replica, because of the colorful, whimsical cover, goofy names (Zoot Horn Rollo, Captain Beefheart which could have been another alias of Captain Kangaroo). The music seemed suitably chaotic and irreverant to be just for me, and I started repeating the little between-song spoken word bit, “A squid eating dough in a polyethylene bag, is fast ‘n’ bulbous, got me?” No one knew what I was talking about, even my uncle, who’s hippie friend bought him the record and he probably didn’t even make it all the way through. It was the obvious name to call my new website when I started it in October 1995. Years later I had borrowed the album for a long time and I was surprised when he wanted it back. I suppose mainly also wanted his Beatles albums back.
Black Sabbath – Black Sabbath (1970)
When we moved into an apt building, I had just started third grade, and the girl across the hall, Jolene, was my age. She had some fascinating records that her absent dad left behind, including some Yes and the first three Black Sabbath albums. I asked to play one, and put on side A of the one with the spooky witch. The opening devil’s tritone transfixed me. I was spooked but enthralled. I asked her if I could borrow them, and she said no. But I’m just across the hall. She said I could listen to them at her apt if I agreed to play dolls and house and stuff. I didn’t really want to, but I NEEDED to hear those Sabbath albums, so I subjected myself to all kinds of humiliation, including eating cereal from a bowl on the floor like a dog. Too bad her dad didn’t leave any Stooges albums. Within a year she and her mom and moved away, and while Sabbath haunted my subconscience, I didn’t buy my own copies until a decade later.
Cheap Trick – In Color (1977)
Summer ’78 I had an extended visit with my aunt, uncle and two cousins in northern Wisconsin who were three and seven years older than me. My uncle had a vintage jukebox in the basement with great 50s and early 60s singles, and I’d shoot pool and play a vintage pinball machine while listening to rock & roll classics. Upstairs in the “family den” there was a good stereo with headphones, and I’d play records. One of them was the second Cheap Trick album. On the day I was leaving I put my cousin on the spot and asked, “can I have this?” She clearly didn’t want to, yet still said yes. I didn’t even have an allowance yet and no means to get my own records yet, so that was sweet. I tried that later with my cousin in Rockford with his Styx album and he told me where to stick it!
Gary Numan – The Pleasure Principle (1979)
I started buying singles when I was eight because they fit my “budget,” which was non-existent. I made money by helping the newspaper boy sometimes, shoveling snow, and dragging bags of beer and pop cans to the gas station to collect on the $.05 refund Iowa had going at the time. One of my favorite singles was “Cars.” I was at Musicland at the Kennedy Mall and decided it was time to pull the trigger and buy my first album. My mom doubted I had the attention span for a full album. Little did she know I’d played her entire collection while she was at work, as I was a latchkey kid. She had some stuff I liked, The Beatles, Stones, Dylan, etc. But Gary Numan sounded like the FUTURE, which at that time, still held the promise of jetpacks and space adventures.
Talking Heads – Fear of Music (1979)
For a while I only knew of Musicland at the mall as the only record store in Dubuque. Somehow, I had missed the Astroid downtown, until one day we walked past it and I backtracked and went in. It was full of cool records, many of which I’d never seen before. Also in the back it was a head shop (they were so stoned they forgot the “e” in their name). My mom said it was not a place for me and made us leave. But it’s full of records! At nine I was pretty independent, and had taken the city bus before, so one day after school I took the bus to the Astroid. I’d done some research, reading CREEM magazine at the A&P grocery store near me. I wanted to get something that Musicland didn’t carry. On my shortlist were The Sex Pistols, Elvis Costello and Talking Heads. I got Fear of Music, not having heard a single note from the band, only going by what I read. I would later learn more about punk and new wave from the Trouser Press Magazine, which the Astroid started carrying, and then the first edition of the Trouser Press Record Guide. I’d soon get Armed Forces, and a friend got the Pistols, but I’d only gotten to hear a couple songs before his cat Beelzebub jumped on it and scratched it beyond playability. Everyone’s a critic. I would have been happy to take it off him to play side B, but he broke it in frustration. Fear of Music‘s dark, dense music freaked me out, particularly “Drugs.” I was not ready for it, so I put it aside until I was a few years later. The Astroid would also move to within a half mile of me, taking over the former TEAM Electronics space. It was a sign.
Electric Light Orchestra – Out of the Blue (1977)
In fifth grade I met my oldest bestie, Mike. We were playing football with others during recess, and eventually bonded via a very basic proto-Beavis and Butthead sense of humor, doing burping contests by swallowing air, which inevitably escalated/devolved to farting contests as all that air went through our systems. Once in English class we were kicked out when someone was reading a ridiculously dumb story about Dick and Jane walking through the woods, “picking up his nuts.” We couldn’t stop laughing, and the teacher told us to go sit outside and think about what we did, and we laughed harder and resumed the farting contest. He never formally invited me to come to his house, we were just so involved in a fart contest (which he was killing me at, with nearly 100 farts) that we ended up there after school. He offered me a warm RC cola in the bottle because it didn’t occur to take one from the fridge, and we listened to some of Out of the Blue. He had all the KISS records but was never moved to play them, and also had Discovery, but OOTB would become an all time favorite. I initially bought the box set, A Box of Their Best for a discount, which also had A New World Record along with the other two, but was bummed it didn’t include the album covers. Other trouble we were up to — tape recording uniquely sick sounding farts and toilet flushes, and his Mego 2-XL talking robot toy (driven by 8-track tape) and using them for prank phone calls. 45 years later we’re still friends and email/text every couple weeks, but no more farting contests. He’ll be in at least a couple other stories.
Queen – News of the World (1977)
After ELO, the other record that got the most spins when hanging with my bud Mike was Queen’s sixth album. Maybe that’s why it’s still my favorite. I bought Jazz (1978) for just a few bucks in the cutout bin at Musicland and got The Game (1980) as soon as it came out (loved the pre-MTV video for “Play the Game”) but I only liked half the tracks on each album. But everything on News of the World was perfect to me — the killer robot gatefold cover art, every track, was enough for them to be my second favorite band between ELO and Cheap Trick, though new contenders would soon usurp them. The lyrics for “Get Down Make Love” were hilarious and I loved the psychedelic freakout in the middle. Nine Inch Nails would later cover it for a B-side. “Sheer Heart Attack” perhaps was a response to punk, but also a precurser to speed metal.
Rush – Permanent Waves (1980)
A few years after I had moved to a different neighborhood and new school, I was talking to my friend Doug from the old ‘hood on the phone, and he asked if I heard of this “weird band” called Rush. I didn’t, and he said he had something I should hear. So I walked the two miles to his house and he played the first track, “The Spirit of Radio,” and it melted my ten year-old brain. Side B kind of lost me, but still, I was hooked, and told him we must find more. We walked to the mall and looked at both Musicland and I think Wards, that had a small record section. Oddly, we had no luck. Still, that first song and “Freewill” haunted me, and I eventually picked up 2112 (1976) and All the World’s A Stage (1976), and was primed and ready for when Moving Pictures (1981) came out, the one challenger to my favorite album that year, ELO’s Time.
Men At Work – Business As Usual (1981)
Junior high was the worst two years of my life, so music became an even more important escape. Oddly, I got to experience a couple things at school that connected me even more to music. One was MTV, which had just come on the air Aug 1, shortly before I started the 7th grade. Like many people, I didn’t get the channel at home, though my bud Mike did, and even had his own TV in his basement bedroom, and could watch it whenever he wanted. Our homeroom teacher oddly thought it was a good idea to have MTV on during our 7th free home room period, when we were supposed to be reading or doing homework. Instead, we stared in fascination at the music videos. One of my favorites was “Down Under,” and even though the album wasn’t released in the U.S. until 1982, I heard it earlier, because an Australian teacher spent a semester at our school and did a slide show of pictures from Australia, using Business As Usual as the soundtrack. It sounded a bit like The Police, and as much as I liked Ghost in the Machine, as well as the synthy new wave sound of Genesis’ ABACAB, I loved this album even more. It didn’t surpass ELO’s Time, but I already talked about Out of the Blue.
Iron Maiden – The Number of the Beast (1982)
An interesting division happened in the tastes between Mike and myself. He had MTV and I didn’t, and I had discovered the college radio station KUNI, broadcast from the University of Northern Iowa, but also transmitted in Dubuque. Mike couldn’t get the signal in his basement bedroom, and I was still trying to figure out what I was hearing, as they would play long 30-45 minute blocks of music before they would say what was what, and on Bob Dorr’s (kind of our John Peel of the Midwest) midnight show, I’d be asleep before then. So for the moment, the sounds of X, Joy Division, R.E.M., Echo & the Bunnymen, The Cure and much more were rattling loose in my brain with little context. In the meantime, Mike bought Iron Maiden’s third album based on the “Run to the Hills” video. From the evil Derek Riggs cover art and the twin guitar shredding, I was all in, and we’d listen to their perfect run of albums from 82-84 a ton. I repaid him the favor of turning me on to them by treating him 34 years later to his first Maiden concert in 2016 in Chicago.
U2 – War (1983)
The “New Years Day” single and video was the perfect manifestation of my newfound teenage ennui and angst. It felt vaguely gray and melancholy, a bit of yearning laced with cautious optimism and possibilities. This and the Under a Blood Red Sky live mini LP were on heavy rotation my first year in high school, and would build up a massive amount of anticipation for their next album, The Unforgettable Fire (1984). It’s funny to think there was a time I thought Bono was cool!
Metallica – Ride the Lightning (1984)
I was at Musicland when a stoner dude with long hair came in and asked (in a voice very similar to Sean Penn’s Spicoli) “dude, do you have any Metallica??” Nope. That was the first time I’d heard their name, despite the fact that I read Creem and Circus magazines pretty regularly. It was a righteous name, holding much promise. I don’t think they were quite on the radar of the glossy music press after the original Megaforce July 27 release, until a bit after it was reissued on major label Elektra in December. I first heard “For Whom the Bell Tolls” on the weak signal of a metal show from a station in Platteville, WI that would come in and out. I had a feeling it was something special that would make a big impact, but in Iowa it wasn’t really all that apparent until Master of Puppets in ’86.
R.E.M. – Fables of the Reconstruction (1985)
There was a cover story on R.E.M. in Record magazine, which would soon fold, and my subscription would be picked up by SPIN. By that time I was familiar with several songs from the first two albums and EP that I heard on KUNI, and this was my first album purchase of R.E.M. It was dark and strange, produced by Joe Boyd in England, and while many had trouble with it, I loved it. It continues to hold a special place for me, even if the early ones and Lifes Rich Pageant (1986) are probably better. When I finally saw them live on the 1987 Document tour, it was a great show, but somehow was the beginning of the end of my superfandom. Probably because they were drifting to the mainstream and my tastes were going in the opposite direction. Similar thing happened with U2, except I thought their ’87 show sucked.
The Woodentops – Giant (1986)
A few things happened that enabled my music collection to really take off. One was that I got a mini stereo with a dual tape deck so I could copy tapes, which I did with gusto, buying boxes of blank Maxells and TDKs and borrowing tapes from all my gradually expanding circle of friends who had any interesting music. Record clubs were starting to expand the range of what they offered, and Target would also have regular $5.99 sales, which is where I bought The Woodentops after reading a review somewhere. Same with XTC, The Smiths, Hüsker Dü, The Church, Agent Orange, Hunters & Collectors, The The, Siouxsie & the Banshees, Love And Rockets, Screaming Blue Messiahs, Shriekback, The Chameleons, The Feelies, Bad Brains, Big Black, The Call and more.
Joy Division/Bauhaus – Mix Tape (1979-83)
One of my most prized dubbed tapes in high school was this hissy tenth generation tape, a brilliant introduction to both bands with their best songs on each side. On the surface I was a skinny, braces-and-glasses wearing A-student dork, co-captain in cross country and track but no girlfriend, and no cool clothes. Yet inside I had more than a bit of smouldering goth brewing inside, which I didn’t know the means to express beyond my writing until I discovered thrift stores in college and put together my own psychedelic post-punk style.
Dinosaur Jr. – You’re Living All Over Me (1987)
My first week of college, I was playing music in my dorm room with the door open, and a sophomore from down the hall popped in. He said I urgently needed to hear Dinosaur (the Jr had not yet even been added at that point). He said tune in to his radio show and he’d play it. He played “The Lung” and I was hooked. “Nowhere to collapse from…” Ironically my lung collapsed later that week after my first cross country meet. He brought me a tape with Dinosaur on one side, and Sonic Youth’s Sister on the other. At that moment, I probably got the more value than any of the subsequent four years of classes of my liberal arts education.
Wire – 154 (1979)
After featuring current music on the first year of my radio show, it evolved from Songs to Sing in Your Sleep to Always Somethin’ Festering, and eventually to Fester’s Bucket O’ Nasties, which focused on proto-punk, punk and post-punk. I had a list of albums that were missing from the radio station’s archives, and on the top of my list was Wire’s 154, which was a bitch to find. After several months of fruitless record store searches, and calling the ones in Minneapolis too far away for me to visit regularly, a store called Tatters ‘n’ Platters in Dinkytown near the U of MN said they had it on tape. It happened to be a record-breaking warm day in January in the 60s, with the snow melted enough that I could ride my bike the 18 mile round trip. Bonus, they also had Gang of Four’s Entertainment and XTC’s early singles comp Waxworks. Both mind blowing post-punk albums I got to hear in their entirety for the first time. I’d go on to find a bunch of other key albums for my show used on vinyl, and CD reissues were also starting to trickle out in ’88.
Sonic Youth – Daydream Nation (1988)
I had a taste of noise rock from a mix tape made by a high school friend’s older brother who had a college radio show, with the likes of Big Black and Butthole Surfers. I’d caught up with the entire catalog of Sonic Youth via our radio station’s library, and was greatly anticipating Daydream Nation, which I bought the day of it’s release on October 18 at Cheapo’s, a block from campus. I’d just started buying CDs that summer, my first being Joy Division’s Substance and the Dukes of Stratosphear collection. The Feelies’ Only Life, Dinosaur Jr.’s Bug and Pixies Surfer Rosa were other recent purchases, but Sonic Youth was and remains my favorite from that year, capped off by a mind blowing show at First Avenue in Mpls with my best bud Erich, which ended with a long break while all the members of openers Die Kreuzen and Laughing Hyenas plugged in onstage, with Thurston Moore muttering gleefully, “this is gonna fuck you up!” They covered “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” which became kind of a tradition along the lines of how Joy Division (among many others) used to always do “Louie Louie.” It was also the first show I reviewed in our college paper.
Fugazi – 13 Songs (1989)
This was a big year for discovery of amazing new bands. My bud Glenn and I were fully onboard with grunge with Mudhoney’s EP the previous year, and now Cosmic Psychos and Nirvana. My housemate Tim, who managed the college radio station, was enthusiastic about Slint, from his hometown of Louisville, and the Melvins, who we would soon book to play outside of our student union. My mates Ethan and Jon had a metal show right after my slot, and they turned me on to all the new death metal and grindcore like Autopsy, Morbid Angel and Bolt Thrower. My favorites were technical thrash metal teetering into prog metal Coroner and Voivod. The crushing industrial/sludge/noise of Godflesh’s Streetcleaner was like scrubbing my brain with a steel brush, and the quirky post-hardcore Canadians NoMeansNo hit a peak with Wrong — I’d soon see them in the basement of our favorite local cafe/art gallery, Speedboat Gallery. But my favorite was introduced to me by my bestie Erich. One of my dorm roomies at the time, another Eric, had a nice NAD system and turntable, so when Erich, who was a big Minor Threat fan, bought the first Fugazi EP, he brought it to my room to play straight from the record store. It kicked off with the classic “Waiting Room” and we skanked circles around the room. When he bought the Margin Walker EP, he was disappointed, but I still dug it, and bought the CD that combined both of them as soon as it came out. It became my favorite from that year of groundbreaking classics. From sweaty shows in a Minneapolis warehouse to the Rainbo Roller Rink in Chicago, they never disappointed, and remained one of my favorite bands through the decade.
The Breeders – Pod (1990)
The new bands slowed down for me somewhat, and felt less earth shattering, like The Jesus Lizard, who would still become a favorite via their live shows, EPs from My Bloody Valentine and Swervedriver, and Bitch Magnet’s Ben Hur. I didn’t mind, as I was busy deep diving into post-punk for my Fester’s Bucket O’ Nasties radio show, finally finding used copies of the first Comsat Angels and The Sound. My favorite new album, edging out the Fugazi and Slayer albums, was Kim Deal of the Pixies, with her new band, The Breeders. I actually got to hear it before it was officially released from my new friend Kristen, who dated my friend Jason, and was learning bass. She guested on my radio show a couple times, lent me some Crass records, and let me hear her advance copy of Pod — she had recently moved from Boston to Mpls and was friends with Kim. I just loved the slow, airy dynamics that reminded me of Slint and Bitch Magnet, which made sense, as drummer “Shannon Doughton,” as credited on the album, was actually Slint’s Britt Walford. And of course the one and only Steve Albini engineered it. The memory was bittersweet, as Kristen later hung out with the Amphetamine Reptile bands with her band Janitor Joe, discovered heroin, and soon after, was discovered by Courtney Love, sealing her doom.
Teenage Fanclub – Bandwagonesque (1991)
Laughing Stock, Loveless, Spiderland, Nevermind, Bullhead, Spine of God, Lunar Womb, Blue Lines, Gish and Goat were favorites that year, but none have compelling stories. After graduating college, I had trouble finding work, as there was a recession. After a few months running up debt to pay rent, I had to get two jobs, and was working up to 70 hour weeks to dig myself out. Sometimes I’d come home, flop face first on the bed and wake up the next morning not having had dinner. I can’t believe that happened, as I never skipped a meal in my life before that. My $400 used 1982 Audi 4000 was not in shape for a 5.5 hour road trip to go home for Thanksgiving. With no girlfriend or dinner invites, I spent it alone in an empty house I normally shared with friends. I did, however, have two things — a copy of SPIN’s albums of the year issue, and a new CD of their #1 pick, Bandwagonesque which just came out on the 19th. Basically a Big Star tribute album, it was just what I needed in one of the most dismal, loneliest times of my life. Nothing better than a good year-end listicle and new choons to elevate my mood. By the way, Nevermind was #3 on the SPIN list, and I was slow to warm to it. I figured that either them or Buffalo Tom (who blew me away with one of the best shows ever) would cross over to the mainstream, but didn’t love the production. It wasn’t quite immediate, but within a week I knew they’d be huge when the most straight, preppy guy I worked with at the law firm, who generally didn’t like rock music, loved it.
Walt Mink – Miss Happiness (1992)
I went to college with this power trio, and some of my favorite memories were their early basement shows in dorms and house parties starting in 1988. Candice was pretty new to the bass but was a total natural, plucking with her fingers like Bootsy Collins and Larry Graham. John and Joey had been in bands since high school and were already at a level of musicianship beyond not only other bands at school, but most bands period. Thanks to Babes in Toyland drummer Lori Barbero, the Twin Cities music scene’s fairy godmother, they got a deal with Caroline and released their first album. Just like when my old housemates The Draghounds released their first album a couple years previously, it was a joy sharing in the giddy excitement of such a milestone. There would be disapointments in the future, but for the moment, the present seemed bursting with possibilities. As I was working long hours working on a database at a law firm in a windowless back room, I played the shit out of that CD on my portable player and mini speakers, and it became known as the fun rockin’ room where others came to hang out during breaks as opposed to the depressing dungeon it once was. My workbuddy Lysa didn’t even mind that I played it so much, as long as her Juliana Hatfield CD also got some spins.
Shrimp Boat – Cavale (1993)
In Autumn 1992 I moved with my girlfriend Elizabeth to Chicago where she started a Ph.D. program. Aside from one old high school friend, I was starting from scratch socially. I made friends with Beth, who worked at my neighborhood record store, Reckless, and we shows like Guided By Voices and PJ Harvey. She was dating James Iha of Smashing Pumpkins at the time, but I only skirted the edge of that “elite” social circle. But it was a new venue that I went to by myself when I started getting a feel for the beginnings of a very fertile local music scene, Shrimp Boat at the Empty Bottle. It was one of those magical, surreal nights, for reasons that are lost in the foggy haze of memory. They’d been around a few years, and the bubbly art/jazz pop and proto-math rock of their third album would be their swan song. More importantly, members would go on to form a sort of supergroup in The Sea and Cake, with members of the Coctails, Gastr del Sol, and Tortoise. I had a similar experience with a band called The Mercury Players around the same time, which lead to Shorty, Cheer-Accident, U.S. Maple and Dead Rider — a really creative period in the Chicago underground with post-rock, experimental, avant-prog, art punk, noise and math rock. Honorable mention, the “The Rude Gesture: A Pictorial History” and “Uranus” 7″ singles by Shellac, who’s public live debut was at the Lounge Ax on July 22 that year.
Jeff Buckley – Grace (1994)
Over a month before his album came out, I saw Jeff Buckley perform at The Hot House in Chicago on a humid summer night on July 5. I’d never heard him, but knew he was the son of Tim Buckley, a favorite of mine, and his live shows were getting rave reviews. It was also a great choice to bring a date — between his rockstar good looks and soaring chanteuse vocals, covering Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and Big Star’s “Kanga Roo,” it was a romantic setting, but also kind of electric, like we knew we were watching an historic show. It was a tiny, low-key venue and could chat with him after the show, and he flirted with my date. That fine by me. We saw him three more times within the next year at the Green Mill, Uncommon Ground Cafe and the Metro, which was filmed and released on blu-ray. Sadly a reason those shows were so special is that in less than three years he was gone, taken by the Mississippi river, leaving behind only one official studio album, which of course I bought the day it came out on August 23. Like his music, the romance I had with my date was torrid and fleeting. I’m sure Buckley would have approved of his music triggering such bittersweet memories.
Björk – Post (1995)
At the time I took chain stores like Tower for granted, but I sure missed it when it was gone. Sometimes on a Sunday or Monday night when I had nothing going on socially, I’d go out for a run or bikeride by the lake, then swing back toward home and stop at Tower Records, which was open until midnight, when all other stores were long closed. New release day was Tuesday, but at Tower, you could go Monday night, and they’d have most major releases available to buy at a discount if you lined up to buy it at midnight. I did that with the second Björk album. I was not much of a pop fan, but her first album had been slowly growing on me, and I had a feeling she was going to get more adventurous and innovative. So on impulse I got it, not having heard anything except possibly one early single on MTV. My gamble paid off, as it remains in my top three for that year. Dang I miss Tower.
Chico Science & Nação Zumbi – Afrociberdelia (1996)
In the early days of Internet forums, members of Tortoise were interviewed about their influences. They gave a fascinating range of names, from German kosmsische bands to Jamaican dub artists like King Tubby and Lee Scratch Perry to Tito Puente and Chico Science & Nação Zumbi, a current Brazilian band that sounded right up my alley. I knew it was hard to find, and I ended up having to special order it at Reckless and it took over a month to arrive. With the anticipation, hearing something that hard to come by was all the more exciting, and the music was just as exotic and experimental and fun as I’d hoped.
Laika – Sounds of the Satellites (1997)
Soon after I started my website in 1995, I got an email from Margaret Fiedler of Laika, because I had their debut Silver Apples Of The Moon (1994) near the top of my list. I had seen her previous band Moonshake open for PJ Harvey back in ’93, and via The Wire magazine, I was getting into Portishead, Pram, Disco Inferno, Tricky and Laika. She and I maintained an email friendship, and she sent me an early promo of their second album, which I freakin’ loved. I knew the popular thing was Britpop, but at the time I ignored all that and was really digging these avant pop bands. Margaret would later play guitar for PJ Harvey on tour with U2 and I got to meet up with them backstage with Bono swanning around nearby.
Queens Of The Stone Age – Queens Of The Stone Age (1998)
I had friends who were big Kyuss fans and friends with Josh Homme. I was mostly going to indie rock shows, and while some, like The Jesus Lizard and Shellac were plenty hard and ferocious, I was kind of missing the heavy rock along the lines of Melvins, Fu Manchu and Monster Magnet. Along with Sleep’s Dopesmoker, Orange Goblin’s Time Traveling Blues and Monster Magnet’s Powertrip, Homme’s new band QOTSA scratched that heavy itch for me — I recall “stoner rock” didn’t start getting used widely until after the Man’s Ruin label triggered it the next year. Things were looking up for heavy music — perhaps I would circle back to metal soon too!
Opeth – Still Life (1999)
In 1999, the last metal show I’d seen was Bolt Thrower back in around ’92. After being fairly deep into death and technical thrash metal in ’89-91, I kind of lost track of the scene for quite a while. I liked some Entombed, and my friend Ben played some Neurosis in the car when we were going to a party — guys in the band came to his shop whenever they were in town to get tattoos. That lead me to do some digging and discover a band on my own that I’d love, and that exploration lead to the discovery of Opeth with My Arms, Your Hearse (1998), which was magnificent, exactly what I was looking for, a mix of savage but well produced death metal mixed with prog and even hints of folk. I snapped Still Life up right away, and it was my favorite metal album so far. I didn’t think they would top it, but they sure as hell did, with Blackwater Park (2001) and Ghost Reveries (2005). I’d eventually see them live several times and they never disappointed. They were my gateway to seeing more metal bands live, like Mastodon, Gojira, Enslaved and a new batch of heavy metal bands starting with The Lord Weird Slough Feg. Over a quarter century later, Opeth remain an all-time favorite.
Electric Wizard – Dopethrone (2000)
I was getting a lot of promo CDs at the time, and for work I was a partner at a place called Alien Syndicate, which had a state of the art mixing/mastering studio as well as video and websites. I brought a variety of things to play in the communal workspace, and some of the folks liked what I thought were the weakest ones like Coldplay and Grandaddy over Doves, Elbow, Kid A, Sigur Ros and Godspeed You Black Emperor. My favorite, which divided the room, as some couldn’t stand it, was the spinecrushingly loud Dopethrone. I once blasted it in the mastering studio and it turned my bones to pudding. This was evil shit and the perfect remedy to rinse fucking Coldplay completely out of my system.
The NYC Chronicles: 2001-2004
The Strokes – Is This It (2001)
Man some people sure love to hate The Strokes. Sure, if you look too closely at their privileged nepo baby backgrounds, it doesn’t seem so rock ‘n’ roll. And yet it is — rock history is littered with sons and daughters of broadway legends, movie stars and high powered executives. I had no preconceptions other than some early buzz from the UK, since they released their album and toured there months before the U.S. release. I snagged an import copy at Evil Clown records up the block from me, and I freakin’ lost my mind. I hadn’t had an album have such immediate impact on first play since, well, maybe Neutral Milk Hotel, not that long ago. It’s simple stuff, but the songs hold up, and I still love it, even if they could never repeat that magic again.
Interpol – Turn on the Bright Lights (2002)
New York City was on a roll. There were plenty of great albums from Sigur Rós, Trail of Dead, N*E*R*D, Sleater-Kinney, Spoon and QOTSA, but again, with Interpol’s debut I was whalloped with all the right pleasure buttons being pressed all at once — Joy Division, Comsat Angels, The Chameleons. All the best parts of my favorite post-punk and jangle pop bands rolled into one sleek, gleaming new band. The lyrics were kind of dumb, but good thing I had zero flying Fs to give.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Fever To Tell (2003)
Yeah I know, the third year in a row with a NYC indie/punk band. I have to include this one or I’ll be in trouble. I was a fan of their EP last year, and on their first tour before even an album out, they sold out the Empty Bottle. Anticipation was high for the album debut and what an eventful week. The album came out April 29, and I loved it, then saw them at the Metro the next night. That weekend on a first date I played part of it. Years later we got married, and one of our songs played at the wedding was “Maps.” She was always kind of mad that our song became so popular.
TV On The Radio – Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes (2004)
Yep, another NYC band. I can’t help it, they were one of my favorites for the decade. I did also first hear Swedish bands Dungen and Witchcraft, but again, I was highly anticipating this album ahead of time after their brilliant Young Liars EP, which appropriately covers The Pixies’ “Mr Grieves” — another band that released an impressive EP before an even more amazing debut album. I realized I recognized singer Tunde Adebimpe from my favorite indie movie of 2001, Jump Tomorrow. My friend John Kimbrough did the soundtrack, and Adebimpe would go on to be in a bunch of movies, and still is. Anyway, they were total originals, killed it live, and should have been bigger than they were. After nearly a decade away they’re doing a tour for the 20th anniversary reissue of this album, and while Tunde has a solo album coming next, hopefully there will also be new TVOTR.
Bonus Stories
Curtis Mayfield – Superfly (1972)
Going way back to first grade, our music teacher would let us bring records in to either mime or actually sing to. Kids would bring of hodgepodge of children’s songs or maybe their parents’ Elvis or Johnny Cash. While I did own The Jungle Book record with the classic, creepy grooming anthem “Trust in Me,” and the proto-punk “I Love Trash” by Oscar the Grouch, I chose one of my mom’s records, which was just a few years old. I was drawn to it for it’s nursery rhyme cadence, with no idea what they meant. It was kind of proto-rap in hindsight, “Pusherman.” I had the lines memorized: “I’m your mama, I’m your daddy / I’m that n***a in the alley / I’m your doctor when in need / Want some coke? Have some weed.” After the teacher’s jaw dropped to the floor, she leapt for the record player in seeming slow motion, as I was probably doing some air guitar to the music (Mayfield could shred, but it was more about the drums n bass on that tune). Unfortunately she was across the room so I started the second verse, “Ain’t I clean? Bad machine / Super cool, super mean / Dealin’ good, for The Man / Superfly, here I stand / Secret stash, heavy bread / Baddest b***hes in the bed.” She finally got to the player before I could finish that last line, and I was PISSED. So was the teacher. So were the kids who didn’t get to hear the whole song, which was awesome. It was my first glimpse of music’s unique power to ignite chaos now and then.
Witchcraft – Firewood (2005)
By the 21st century, everyone came out of the closet as Black Sabbath worshippers. And while there was a decent number of doom bands inspired by one aspect of Sabbath’s sound, none of them came as close as I craved to that production from their first four albums. Enter Sweden’s Witchcraft. Their debut the previous year had some fidelity issues, but for me, Firewood was perfect, exactly what the Dr. (Fester) ordered.
I wonder if Jolene still has those Sabbath albums?
April 2, 2026
Fester’s Lucky 13: 1986
February 27, 2026
Fester’s Lucky 13: 1976
