Number four on my friend’s list was Bad Company, by, strangely enough, Bad Company. A nice choice, but not for me. Bad Company was purchased by one of my dearest friends from my youth just prior to his move to Ohio. We’d get a little teary-eyed listening to the cut Movin’ On. His move changed my life, the album did not. Motivated by a precise definition of the “influence/change” criteria, my number four was Rock and Roll Animal, by Lou Reed, an album I listened to with this same neighborhood friend. As I recall, he was not as smitten as I with Lou Reed. My friend’s father worked for RCA, in what capacity, I do not know. I do know my friend’s father brought home awesome music before the albums hit the stores. This was how my affection for David Bowie started. Hunky Dory showed up at my friend’s house, and I was a fan, same for Lou Reed. Rock and Roll Animal took on much more meaning three years after its release date.
I was completely in the throes of my first bout with cocaine addiction. A friend of mine enjoyed partaking as well, just not to the level of excess as I. Every Friday, for a couple of months in 1977, he and I would cook up some steaks, some squash and garlic concoction he called vegetable surprise, and some sort of potato side. He began cleaning up by putting on the live version of Sweet Jane, with, in my opinion, one of the great guitar intros of all time. The Heroin cut off Rock and Roll Animal would follow. I would prepare the dry goods version of aperitifs, if you will, and we’d be off to the races, our pulse rate went first. Yes, Rock and Roll Animal directly influenced my life. Number four had earned its spot. Now, the Lou Reed impact doesn’t end there. Sadly, an artist can only appear on the list once. If allowed, Lou’s, New Sensations was equally life changing, but on a much more positive note. I had met Lou Reed in Andover, New Jersey while out on a motorcycle ride. He was too. We chatted at the local general store. I gushed about the times I had seen him perform live. He talked about our respective bikes. I wasn’t star-struck until I bid him adieu. My hands shook for miles. I crashed that bike not too far in the future. I Love You Suzanne became one of my rehabilitation anthems as I recuperated. This was an either/or choice. Again, I stuck with chronology.
My social media tormentor posted Eat a Peach, by The Allman Brothers, as her fifth selection. I almost agreed. My sister owned a copy of Eat a Peach, I had my own. Eat a Peach was a staple at KOK, (a high school fraternity of sorts), parties if I was fortunate enough to be invited. One Way Out served as the warm-up song for the high school varsity basketball team my first year on the squad. Yes, Eat a Peach would fit nicely. So it too, takes the five slot on my list. Again, a band only being allowed to appear on the list once created a quandary. If The Allman Brothers were to be on my list, Live at Fillmore East exerted just as much influence. Fillmore East had been the venue my sister had taken me to see them. I owned the album. It could have been six to one, a half-dozen of another for The Allman Brothers. However, many of the good friends I made in high school held Eat a Peach in high regard. My list should reflect that as well.
Number six, my list creating friend posted was Ziggy. There is no need to list the album’s title in its entirety. There is no need to list the artist. The only thought I need to give to this choice is, is this the album I want representing David Bowie? Hearing Bowie expanded my musical tastes. I recall a time when every tape in my 8-track case was by David Bowie. However, Suffragette City off the Ziggy album, had, at my suggestion, replaced One Way Out as the basketball team’s warm-up song. Later, friends of mine formed a band. They would practice in my basement. I think as a gesture of kindness, they included Suffragette City in their playlist, with me singing, or shall I say performing the song. My singing skills left much to be desired. Yes, Ziggy would be a grand selection indeed.
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