Everything is Wrong was my first introduction to Moby.  It’s a neat little mixed bag and to this day, even after the masterpiece that is his Play album, I’d still recommend Everything is Wrong as a starting point for anyone unfamiliar with Moby.  There’s a bit of everything here, from spooky orchestral piano-heavy anthems to break-beat dance floor wanna-be tunes; from groovy sexual tracks (“First Cool Hive”) to peppy little rock songs (“All That I Need is to be Loved”).

For a teen that was beginning to appreciate most styles of music, I discovered this album at the best time possible.  It prepped me for the female vocals that would dominate the genre of trip hop, which I came to love soon after.  It showed me that classic piano sounds could be ambient and poppy at the same time.  It was a prime example of how light and soft could accentuate and even support the heavier stuff I was used to.

With the exception of a handful of particularly depressing tracks (“When It’s Cold, I’d Like to Die” stands out among them), this album is quite positive despite its title.  And even for non-Moby fans, there are some beautiful instrumental tracks on here that are simply amazing.

“Anthem”

The leading track, “Burn” is probably one of the strongest tracks The Cure ever recorded and is a perfect way to introduce the movie musically.  To this day, it ends up on almost every rock-oriented playlist I create.  And while such a strong opening track raises the bar high for the songs that follow, almost every song holds its own.

The second track, “Golgotha Tenement Blues” by Machines of Loving Grace always stood out to me because of it’s simple yet brutal guitar riff and creepy vocal samplings.  If I absolutely had to choose, this track would be selected as my favorite out of the group.

Of course, others stand out as well.  Henry Rollins contributes a super-sloppy (but in a good way) track called “Ghostrider” (which makes one wonder if someone told him they were doing a different film).  Helmet does what Helmet does best, grinding out their dropped-D brilliance in “Milquetoast” (oddly retitled as “Milktoast” for the soundtrack). Nine Inch Nails covers a Joy Division tune (“Dead Souls”) and Rage Against the Machine displays what might be one of the best songs of their career (“Darkness”).

Hidden in the mix is a particularly charming and dark Violent Femmes track called “Color Me Once” which will get stuck in your head for days. And the spastic and dirty “After the Flesh” by My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult never fails to bring one of the movie’s most climatic scenes to mind.

Sadly, one of the album’s weakest tracks was the one that got the most attention and radio play; “Big Empty” rode the wave of Stone Temple Pilots’ popularity, making it the keystone track for most listeners.  Also, if I’m being honest, this album was really my first true exposure to Pantera.  I’d heard them before but they were too hard for me.  But “The Badge” made me revisit them, ultimately leading me to purchase a few of their albums and fall in love with Vulgar Display of Power in my teenage years.

Without a single wasted track on the album, The Crow soundtrack was one of those that stayed in my car’s cassette player (hey, remember those?!) for most of my high school years.

“Burn” - The Cure

I well remember the first time I saw Robyn Hitchcock perform live. He was doing a floor spot one Sunday night at our college folk club. Judging by the response from the audience he was a bit of a regular on the scene, even if on this occasion his band – prematurely announced as “Robyn Hitchcock and His Worst Fears” – had clearly gone AWOL. He proceeded to leap up on stage and sing a solo a capella song with words about something like “The Grand Old Duke of Squeeze” and from that point on I was hooked.

The lyrics were weird throwbacks to psychedelia, with music and rambling introductions to match. It was obvious that he was a man out of his time, someone who was destined to go no further than a local cult figure, but we loved him anyway and made a point of turning up to as many of his gigs as we could track down. Somehow, however, he managed to get a record deal for his latest band, The Soft Boys, in the wake of the punk explosion. Actually, it was more like a sequence of record deals, none of which promised much in the way of stability.

But by the time their second album, “Underwater Moonlight”, came out, they were as tight a musical unit as you could wish for. Although Hitchcock’s lyrics were still as odd as ever, the music had absorbed the energy of punk while retaining the  hippie-Byrds vocal harmonies that had always characterized their music. Check out the opening track “I Wanna Destroy You” and “The Queen of Eyes” in particular.

After that, The Soft Boys pretty much sank without trace, but Hitchcock carried on working and eventually – to the amazement of us early adopters – stitched himself into inextricably the fabric of popular music. REM have cited him as an influence (in fact Peter Buck is part of his current touring band, The Venus 3) and he’s been the subject of a Jonathan Demme concert film. I don’t think he’s ever stopped recording and he’s barely made a duff album in thirty years. Kind of cool to think I was in at pretty close to the start of his career.

Underworld is one of those groups.  When I found this in the Used bin, I had only heard a few of their tracks (“Born Slippy” and a few others that aren’t on this 2-CD release).  I was expecting 2 CDs worth of thump-thump-thump-thump-long stringy synth-thump-thump-thump.

And to some extent, that’s exactly what I got.  Of course, I was taken slight aback when I heard the beginning of the Disc 1 opener, “Bigmouth” which is layered harmonica tracks that lead into a nice little foot-stomping bass beat.  But for the most part, Underworld’s 1992-2001 gave me exactly what I was expecting.

There are, however, a few tracks that almost stray from their often formulaic approach.  Tracks like “Mmm Skyscraper, I Love You” and “Dirty Epic” are trance-like little gems in their own right.  Also, this disc introduced me to “Pearl’s Girl” for the first time, one of the few techno-dance-electronic tracks I still listen to somewhat regularly.

Underworld might be one of the few artists within this genre that can pull of using the same approach (albeit, on occasion, with a few quirky twists as they did with their album Beaucoup Fish).  More than that, they also manage to create a sound that comes off as sounding fresh when you pop the discs in after going without it for a while.

“Pearl’s Girl”

My first experience with KMFDM was Angst.  And from the opening guitar riff of “Light,” I knew I had found something special.  It was heavy, but not super heavy, and it was catchy.  It was almost sing-along catchy while also allowing you to headbang.

And then, dear Lord in Heaven, “Light” gave way to “A Drug Against War” and my little teenage mind was blown.  Without a doubt the fastest heavy song I had heard at the time, I was enamored with the song and, by the time the album was over, the band.

I’m not quite sure Angst is their best album (I think that designation goes to Nihil) but it is the best album for KMFDM newcomers.  There’s a bit of everything here: brutal heaviness, catchy hooks, dirty German-goth sexiness (“A Hole in the Wall) and even some parody (“Sucks”).

KMFDM has stuck around through all these years but, in my opinion, have never quite recaptured the magic that they rode on between 1993 – 97 or so. Angst was one of my first peeks at industrial music without all of the blatant doom and gloom.  And even to this day I can’t help but remember that first initial reaction to “A Drug Against War.”

“A Drug Against War”

From the simple yet somehow complex tones of the album opener “Everything In It’s Right Place”, you know this album is not going to be like any other Radiohead albums…maybe unlike any other album period.  Within the space of a single track, Kid A is able to take you from a happy sort of chaos to the dreariest form of solitude imaginable (“The National Anthem” and “How to Disappear Completely” respectively).

This is not a rock album.  This is a Radiohead album.  This is the album that let us all know who Radiohead really was and where they were headed.  It’s an unapologetic roundhouse kick to what we were told to expect from mainstream artists.

The first time I listened to this album, I had to listen to it again immediately afterwards to make sure my ears had taken it all in properly.  To this day, the lulling bass line and string arrangements of “How to Disappear Completely” and the minimalist synths of “Idioteque” grab me as if I’m hearing them for the first time all over again.

“Idioteque”

Then, going in for huge brownie points, I took one of these girls (hey, she actually ended up being my girlfriend for a few years) to see Tori Amos in concert.  I was expecting to grin and nod through the whole show.  But instead, I was floored.  It was easily the best concert I had seen to that point in my life (and remains in the top 3).

At the time, she was supporting From the Choirgirl Hotel, an album that I am only lukewarm about.  But it was my appreciation for her live shows that had me pick up To Venus and Back the following year…a 2-disc set featuring an entire disc of live tracks.  And, like Choirgirl before it, To Venus and Back features an entire band to back her.  Some of the songs on the album are slow and grinding, dark and sensual with electronic influences.  I’d never quite heard this side of Tori Amos and this album basically made me a fan for life.

The studio disc features a few stand-out tracks and the live disc is packed with gems.  The 10 minute live version of “Waitress” is dizzying and full out rocking by the time it’s over.  And the opener, a goose-bump inducing full-band delivery of “Precious Things” is a basic blueprint of why she’s such an amazing songwriter and performer.

“Juarez”

The use of saxophone as the key instrument in Morphine’s music irked me slightly at the time, but the grungy slap-nasty bass riffs made up for it.  The first bit of music I ever heard from Morphine was the bass intro to “Buena” from the Cure for Pain album (rivaled only by the bass line from “Thursday” from the same album). After a few songs, I started to love and appreciate the sax, too.

It drew me in instantly and I listened to the entire album in a friend’s kitchen while everyone else was playing Monopoly (I know…I hung with some cool teens).  I was hooked..the hook driven in more so when I heard “Free Now,” which to this day remains one of my favorite songs of all time.

The jazz-rock genre that Morphine almost solely ruled is great in that it’s timeless. This album came out in ’93 but would still sound fresh today.  I continue to be shocked by the amount of people that have never heard of Morphine.  If you are among this unfortunate group, check out this album right away.

“Free Now”

So imagine my surprise when a friend of mine let me listen to the Beastie Boys on his Walkman on the way to school.  I was probably ten or so at the time.  I was floored right away.  These three goofy white guys could have easily been me and my friends.  They were singing about taboo things (to my then 10 year old self) but not in the cheesy rap way I was accustomed to hearing from the likes of the Fat Boys.  And sure, some may balk at the fact that I unflinchingly refer to this as a rap album but it was the late 80s and this was more unique and genuine that the other excuses for “rap” I had heard up until then.  (Although it’s probably more fair to call this “hip hop”).

They were singing about girls and what I assumed was liquor (“Brass Monkey”).  And not only that, I could understand what they were saying.  Oh, and there was heavy-ass electric guitar in some of the songs.  For me, I never really cared about “You Gotta Fight For Your Right (To Party)”…I fell in love with “No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn” and the thunder-like drums from “Rhymin’ and Stealin” (not knowing they were sampling Zepplin) right away.

Those that are old enough to remember cassette tapes will appreciate the fact that I eventually listened to Licensed to Ill enough so that the actual cassette ribbon started to wear thin.  I knew every word, every line, every hook and even most of the pop culture references (despite the fact that there were no White Castles where I was living).

I actually grew up to eventually loathe the friend that introduced me to the Beastie Boys.  This pains me, as this was the same friend that also introduced me to Run DMC and Public Enemy.  But still, above those examples (yes, even Public Enemy), no other rap album impacted me like Licensed to Ill.

“Rhymin’ and Stealin’”

Not knowing what to expect, I was appalled for the first few moments of listening to this album.  It was rock…sure, but what was all of that noise going on in the background?  It sounded like a squeaky clean reinvention of industrial and grunge all thrown together.

But man, can David Reilly (singer/guitarist whom died in 2005) string a catchy song together.  The hooks are so great and the choruses so demanding that you sing along that you forget about the odd little quirky synths floating through most of this album.  The lyrics are simple but a mixed bag of regrets, love-sickness, and some good old early 90s angst.

After a few listens, Empty had me hooked on God Lives Underwater.  At the time, these guys were easily the most unique group I was listening to and, at times, the friends I tried to force into listening to the album accused the band of being a poppier and more sunshine-y version of Nine Inch Nails.

Still, this album remains one of my favorites to this day.  Hard pressed to choose a favorite track, this one would probably win out in the end.

“We Were Wrong”