100 Albums. 100 Words.
Part One: 1 - 20

by matthew webber

The Thesis

100 albums. 100 words. Not the "best" or "most important." Not the ones that "capture the zeitgeist." These are the albums I actually enjoy; the albums, you know, I actually listen to. The all-time, top-100, desert-island mixes. The ones that console me, cheer me, excite me. The ones that inspire me, understand me, move me. The ones I've loved again and again. The ones I can't imagine life without. The only ones worth the following reflections, all of them containing 100 words apiece. Basically, my favorite albums ever. Totally subjective? Maybe. Sure! But what's more fun than arguing music?

1. Beatles - Abbey Road

Why? Because there’s no other choice. This is my favorite work of art ever. It’s certainly the album I’ve listened to the most, driving cross-country, or prepping for work, or writing and dreaming and seeking perfection. The prettiest melodies. The most transcendent harmonies. The goofiest lyrics. The phattest bass. George sings his best song ever. Ringo sings his best song ever. Lennon/McCartney’s a duel till “The End.” John almost freestyle raps, Paul believes he’s writing a symphony, and everything crescendoes with love, love, love: The meaning of life. A shiver down the spine. Drumming on the steering wheel, singing along.

2. Jeff Buckley - Grace

The voice alone can break your heart. The music by itself can move you to weeping. It’s hard not to hear this album as a requiem – not for the artist, but for your “Grace”-less self. Play it once; I double dare you. That’s all it took for me to be saved. The ignorant, pre-“Grace” person was dead, replaced by this person whose zeal is probably scaring you. Sorry for witnessing so goddamn ardently. To quote Roget instead of Christ, the album is a classic, a masterpiece, a paragon. The passion of an artist. The voice of an angel.

3. Guns N’ Roses - Appetite for Destruction

Amazing? Awesome? Radical? Ridiculous! From the skulls on the cover to Axl’s shouts of “Yowzas!” everything about this album should suck. Everything seems like something to scorn, now that I’m older and wiser and lamer, more prone to reading feminist texts than listening to hatred packaged as pop. But underneath Axl’s schizophrenic voices, underneath Slash’s xenophobic riffs, I’m hearing something lonely and scared. I feel the way I felt at eleven, ugly and angry, but beautiful inside. Almost two decades after I bought it, I still play this cassette all the time. It never ceases to make me jog faster.

4. Nirvana - Nevermind

Let me recount my musical biography: Loving family. Suburban home. Smart and shy. Creative and curious. Naturally, I listened to antisocial rock, the stuff young Catholics hide from their parents, which, in the early ‘90s, was grunge. I was a freshman when Kurt Cobain killed himself. I’m a walking ‘90s cliche! Maybe these facts will make me original: I listened to this album en route to losing wrestling meets. I had to look up some of its words, particularly “mulatto,” “libido,” and “lithium.” I wrote a placement essay about it, earning the highest possible score. Hearing it still saddens me.

5. Billy Joel - The Stranger

Mostly, I hated the music of my parents, a genre known as “easy listening.” Billy Joel probably seemed rockin’ to them. Two years in a row, which they probably don’t remember, my parents gave me a Joel tape for Christmas. I didn’t really know him, and I certainly hadn’t asked, but the coolest thing is, my parents guessed correctly. One of these gifts was a perfect pop album, track after track of songs I wish I’d written, one of which I sang in my American Idol tryout. This gift gave me the joy of music. My parents rock after all.

6. Stone Temple Pilots - Purple

Fuck Scott Weiland. There. I said it. If not for his struggles with heroin and heroines, this band could’ve ruled the ‘90s, rocking even more, or more often, than they did. They could’ve kept improving on their murky, grungy start, and raced the Smashing Pumpkins to an arty, poppy finish. They could’ve become my favorite band. Instead, they raced my other idols: early dissolution through self-destruction, testing and finally failing their fans. At least they made this masterpiece. Ever love something beyond all common sense, beyond the critical and cultural consensus? This is my band. I can’t explain it further.

7. Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes

To all the women I’ve ever misunderstood:

Play the piano and sing. I’ll get it. At least I’ll try. I really will. I’ll study your voice and learn from your words. I’ll listen to you and fall in love again. Please tell me everything, so clearly yet poetically, so I can know all your desires and fears: Love and lust and body and family. Being late and getting raped and feeling scorned by men. You try to melodize, and I’ll try to empathize. I promise to try my best. I promise.

I know I’ve failed. I hear what you’re saying.

8. Pink Floyd - The Dark Side of the Moon

Four bored kids on a quiet summer night, stuck in the St. Louis suburbs, unless...

“Let’s go out, man. Let’s do something.”

“How 'bout the laser light show?”

We jumped in the car and drove downtown, singing along to Live and Bush. Actually, we didn’t know much about the Floyd. Also, remember, we were all good kids. Our pockets were free of paraphernalia.

We payed the fee. The room went dark. Lasers and stars and spinning and sound. My mind was blown to smithereens.

“This must be what being high feels like.”

I bought the album the very next day.

9. Radiohead - OK Computer

Can you believe I bought this album used? Whoever sold it back was a faulty machine, a radio automaton, a man without a head. This is the reason I shop for used CDs, the bargain I hope to find in the bins, the baby refusing to drown in the bath. As awesomely dystopic as 1984, with scarier riffage than 1984, this is the soundtrack to science-fiction nightmares, a desert-planet pick of both me and HAL 9000. This album is so awesome it’s scary. This album is so scary it’s awesome. Awesome, scary... Scary, awesome.... A broken record, dancing the robot.

10. Beastie Boys - Paul’s Boutique

College gave me so many things: friendship, love, a trip to Australia, mad writing skillz, and respect for good hip-hop. I opened my ears and let myself listen. I browsed the local bargain bins and got an education. I learned what I probably should’ve learned in high school: Everyone needs some rap in their lives. Sorry for projecting myself onto everyone. Also, sorry for being white. But everyone needs a song about egging. Everyone needs to go, “What the hell was that?” as this one bouillabaisse mashes up everything. Everyone needs to hear science getting dropped. Misappropriation is totally fun!!!

11. Beatles - The White Album

Pop Quiz

True/False

1) “Helter Skelter” is heavier than metal.

2) This is the album where Paul became my favorite.

3) One time, at a Yankees game, I saw Paul on the JumboTron! Both of us were watching the very same game!! Both of us were sitting in the same freakin’ stadium!!! This was by far the highlight of the game.

4) I’m a better person for having heard The Beatles.

Essays

5) Why do I cover “Rocky Raccoon”?

6) Why do I tolerate “Revolution 9"?

7) Great double album, or greatest double album?

8) Review your favorite Beatles memory.

12. Pearl Jam - Ten

Eddie Vedder probably hates me. I totally respect the last grunge band standing. I totally agree the president sucks. My Pearl Jam tapes are totally worn out. But I haven’t cared about Pearl Jam in a decade. I miss the riffs they used to write. I miss the reverb on Vedder’s voice. I miss the fervor I felt for four albums – one or two more than most former fans – even though they’ve put out x albums since. (Seriously, Eddie, I don’t even know.) I must miss high school, and even junior high, considering how often I still play its soundtrack.

13. Beck - Sea Change

Sometimes, this album rocks me to sleep. Sure, I play it other times, too: whenever I want to feel understood, whenever I want to commiserate with someone, and during long drives with all these other albums. But this is my favorite insomnia music. I play it when other treatments have failed: late-night talk shows, melatonin, milk. I fear I’m making the music sound boring, when actually, to me, it couldn’t sound more beautiful. Quiet, gentle, melodic, sad, it hushes and soothes and colors my dreams. A concept album, or maybe a lullaby, it breaks my heart instead of a bough.

14. Ben Folds Five - Whatever and Ever Amen

The Shit

Ben Folds is a geek like me,
Writing’ white boy poetry,
Listenin’ to Dr. Dre,
Droppin’ dope shit every day.

Clearly, Ben Folds is a better
Singer, writer, and whatever.
Still, I do suspect that Ben
Writes some bad shit now and then.

Ballads, bangers, clever, classic,
Better than the park Jurassic.
Crackin’ wise, but soundin’ smart?
That’s the shit that breaks my heart.

Now I’m older than I was.
Still, I listen, just because.
Even though I don’t have kids,
Love the cartoon shit he did.

Sorry, Ben, for bein’ shitty.
Next time, I’ll say somethin’ pretty.

15. Elliott Smith - XO

Elliott, thanks, man. What can I say? Nothing you haven’t heard before, probably. Nothing to return the favor of your life. Your playing, your singing, sounded like a friend. Your music made me feel less alone. The sadness – the truth – in your songs helped me cope. “Cope with what?” you ask, maybe angry. “Clinical depression? A heroin habit? Increasingly prophetic suicidal thoughts?” Yes, you’re right; I don’t understand. Yes, I know; my sympathy is futile. Yes, this letter is overwrought. Still, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more. Sorry my fandom wasn’t enough. Thanks, again, for giving me your music.

16. Rufus Wainwright - Want One

Why isn’t this guy massively famous? Fine, he lisps, and his lyrics are flaming, but this guy’s songs deserve to be standards. Broadway stars should belt them out. Toddlers should sing them at preschool assemblies. Literature geeks should study their metaphors. Poor Elton John should weep into his rhinestones. This guy rewrites the history of pop – Tin Pan Alley, rock ‘n’ roll, sensitive singer/songwriter sap – swinging for the fences and never ever missing, taking a bat to popular cliches. See what I did there? He’d never do that. Instead, he’d make up something new, something to envy forever and ever.

17. Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

Catchier than the common cold! Is it clear yet The Beatles are my all-time favorite band? Number Seventeen – my all-time favorite number – is The Beatles’ third appearance on my all-time favorites list. When I was seventeen, before I wussied out, they might’ve scored even higher than this, higher than women (sorry, Tori!) and artists outside of the grunge-rock canon (Beatle-esque guys like Elliott and Ben). Of course, my boys Aerosmith would’ve been here, too. And lots of Van Halen – and even Van Hagar. But my love of The Beatles has grown as I’ve aged. My listening frequency has never diminished.

18. Aimee Mann - Lost in Space

Thanks to Magnolia, I knew she was amazing, hearing her songs in the mouths of those characters. Still, I was stunned by her storytelling here, hearing her voice and picturing scenes, even without an accompanying film. That’s why she’s one of my all-time favorite writers, not just of songs, but of anything with words. That’s why I wish I could be Aimee Mann, telling the stories that no one else can, singing the songs that no one else will, finding the comfort in being alone. Isn’t it obvious why these songs strike me? No one’s around to answer my question.

19. Blur - The Great Escape

Sometimes, I’m stricken with a touch of Anglophilia, mostly due to albums like this. Chic, cheeky, rapier witty – if all of England sounds like this, I totally need to go.

When I lived in Australia, this album was my soundtrack. One of several bootlegs I bought at a flea market, this tape was my choice for contemplative bus rides, gazing out the window and seeing the world. I hope to play it on all my future travels.

Also, I imagine “The Universal” everywhere. Possibly, for real, the best song ever.

–Best Beatles Albums: No. 4
–Best Oasis Albums: No. 1

20. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream

I’m jotting this down before the big comeback, before the second coming of the alt-rock Messiah – Billy Corgan, the B-side Jesus – making an angry and beautiful racket, shredding his throat and scorching the earth, beating Axl Rose in the race to risk my fandom, making new music that might not sound like this: the loudest and prettiest dirges and tantrums, youthful anthems that somehow still matter, even more now than ever before, rocking today, in Geek U.S.A., quietly disarmed – a bummer when you hummer – with high school band mates playing different songs. Soon, I’ll discover if we can rise again.

The Invitation

Got some free time? Wanna write something? This "100 Words" project is open to everyone. If you like what you see here -- or, even better, if you think it sucks -- I’d love to see a list from you! What are your own favorite 100 albums? Films? Books? Breakfast cereals? Mustaches throughout history? The possibilities are truly infinite. Just rank your favorite whatevers (that’s the fun and easy part), describe them in EXACTLY 100 words (that’s the challenging but fun part), and post your list. Then we can trade our links – and our arguments. For more information, e-mail me at mattwebber@gmail.com.

The Disclaimer

All words were counted using the Word Count tool in my version of Word Perfect.

Visit the author's website at www.matthewwebber.net.