My friend used her ninth choice to select Electric Ladyland, by Jimi Hendrix, a fantastic choice. I was influenced by Hendrix. I would have selected his Are You Experienced album since it was the most symbolic during that period of my life. However, my brain, along with my list, was now at a different time in my life. I picked Bruce Springsteen. The Boss, which, at the time Born to Run came out, had not yet become anointed that title. I had heard Bruce and the E Street Band’s previous works, Greetings from Asbury Park, and, The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. Both albums were good, but they weren’t Born to Run. I had seen Bruce before Born to Run made him a huge celebrity. Born to Run catapulted Bruce into the stratosphere. Not long after the release of Born to Run, Bruce appeared on the covers of Time and Newsweek in the same week. No small feat. I told my friends that they really needed to hear this album. Not everyone embraced the album to the extent I did. No matter, I seemed to be the first of my friends to spread the gospel of Bruce. I was entering into my punk phase, and the music on Born to Run was so raw, so edgy, and full of energy (for the time), I didn’t feel I had strayed so far from the punk movement I was becoming entrenched. To confirm this, my tenth slot is filled by Road to Ruin, by The Ramones. Now I could have listed Born in the U.S.A. as my Bruce entry, since that album made a direct contribution to the break-up of my marriage. That’s qualifies as life changing you could say. But, I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer and mark my life in tragedy. Particular for this exercise.
My friend opted for Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, by Elton John for her tenth entry. Don’t get me wrong, Elton John got a lot of airplay on my 8-track, and later my cassettes during this phase of my existence, I just didn’t identify with Elton John. None of the songs told my story, or resonated with what was going on in my life. As a matter of fact, “Tiny Dancer” became more meaningful to me after the song provided context in Cameron Crowe’s biopic, Almost Famous. The Ramones however, most certainly resonated. I had seen them at CBGB’s (OMFUG) before they rose in the national consciousness. Like Bruce Springsteen, The Ramones were local. Kiki Ramone ironically, even worked at the clothier owned by my friend with the 1963 Chevy. I could have picked other albums, but “I Wanna Be Sedated” was a cut off Road to Ruin. This song spoke to me. For good and bad, I behaved like the one described in the song. I tried to see The Ramones whenever I could. Road to Ruin represented my life then, and I was okay with that.
At this point in my list compiling, by selecting the Ramones, I was able to slip The Clash into my two slot. While a couple of Clash albums qualified, London Calling, was my choice. London Calling was a double album containing nineteen songs. Yet, the album sold for single album price. This was The Clash’s way of thumbing their nose at the record business. It wasn’t about the money for punk bands. It was about what the songs said, and the anti-progressive rock approach. Talk about raw . . . wow. I saw The Clash several times. I dressed punk sometimes as daily wear. I identified. That’s pretty influential as well as life changing. Punk was also something my first wife and I had in common, not that I’d recommend this criteria as a cornerstone for a lifelong relationship, which it most certainly wasn’t. Now let’s get to number eleven.
Speaking of my ex-wife, my friend selected Bonnie Raitt, Give it Up, a favorite artist of my ex-wife. I had never heard of Bonnie Raitt, much less listened to her music, until I started dating my ex-wife. That was 1980. Bonnie Raitt had been making music for a decade. My friend’s list was no help. Besides, I couldn’t be stopped. My mind at this point in the list, was focused on albums that have made an indelible impression on my brain during a concentrated period. Based on this benchmarks, Hotel California, by The Eagles, was a logical choice.
The day the album came out, there was a release party at the home of a friend of mine. Between twenty and thirty people showed up. We did lots-o-drugs. During the playing of the song “Hotel California,” there was total silence, and no, everyone did not simultaneously OD. We were enraptured. No one danced. We all stood motionless, and felt frozen in time, like the moment would never end. When the song concluded, we all cheered and applauded. Just like as if you were attending a concert. We played the album in its entirety several times. Each time, noticing something new that we missed during previous playings. No one minded we played just the Hotel California album. We didn’t want to hear anything else. This album required our full attention and understanding. It was a night for the ages. The Eagles have other albums that could be on this list, but not the story to go along with it.
My friend concluded her list with an admirable choice, Déjà vu, by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I owned this album, and listened to it quite frequently, but it didn’t fit with the ongoing theme of my list. Joan Jett and The Blackhearts did. Bad Reputation could have filled this spot just as easily as I Love Rock n’ Roll based on the music alone. But the list is not favorite albums, or albums with the most hit songs, these were albums that influenced or changed my life. Joan Jett was another artist my ex-wife and I both enjoyed, even prior to dating. One of our first dates was going to see Joan Jett and the Blackhearts in Hempstead, L.I. The drive took nearly three hours due to the large amount of snow that had fallen. We ignored the snow, and the subsequent traffic it had spawned, we were young, we were falling in love, and we loved Joan Jett. This night was ours.
Fast forward a couple of years. While rehabilitating from a near fatal motorcycle accident, Joan Jett, and her new release The Glorious Results of a Misspent Youth, joined Lou Reed as my inspiration music. So much had Joan Jett influenced my life that that album title became the title of my memoir. Yes, I Love Rock n’ Roll earned a place on my list. And I do love rock n’ roll. So much so, as soon as I posted my list on my friend’s page where this saga began, I immediately thought: “Oh shit, I left off Tom Petty. How could I leave off Tom Petty? “American Girl” kept me from a longer jail sentence. And the concert with Cory . . . and the first event I attended after I got out of the hospital. Those stories will have to wait. And The Band. Geez, Stage Fright evokes so many memories. And The Stray Cats. And Dave Edmunds . . .”
It was similar to when I lecture or speak to groups. I rarely use or refer to notes. So, there is the speech I’m going to give, the speech I give, and the speech I should have given. This list is like that. Once I posted my results, after some commentary and other lists were posted by friends, it was suggested, how about twelve albums after 1990 that changed or influenced your life. I’m afraid I must beg off on that one for a while. This was such an ordeal. I don’t think my friend intended this exercise to suck out our life force.
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