It’s a tried and tested formula for interviews everywhere. Albeit, usually in interviews of more important folk than me. And with an interviewer, and interviewee. Still, flicking through Troy Sanders’ picks earlier today gave me the idea of trying my hand at my own list.
Seeing as I’m only 19 as yet, it’s a pretty useless endeavour. A fun little curio though. Bear in mind, too, I’m trying my DARNDEST not to use this to try and look cool and pick the most aesthetic choices…
By the Way — Red Hot Chili Peppers (2002)
I think I can pinpoint my love of music to one catalyst moment. The moment my older brother put his headphones onto my little 5-year-old head and played By the Way to me. I was hooked from there. Every melody I tried to think up from then on in my song-making crusades would in some way link back to By the Way. And Red Hot Chili Peppers would forever remain one of my favourites.
The Bedlam in Goliath — The Mars Volta (2008)
Aberinkula shell-shocked me into my since ever-present obsession with The Mars Volta, alongside opening me up to the avenues of punk, psychedelia and horror. And maybe it was listening to Agadez on camping trips that sparked my wanderlust.
Deadwing — Porcupine Tree (2005)
Whilst TMV brought my bumbling little self into all things weird and wonderful, on the other, more normal side of prog sat Porcupine Tree from a very early age. As well as forever reminding me of my dad, this was my musical introduction to all things floaty and thinky.
Toxicity — System of a Down (2001)
While it’s insanely difficult to pinpoint the start of my metalheadery to one album, System permeated my being as a tween and its aggressive, full-on nature changed me into the all-black wearing oddity that defined my teenage years and in a roundabout way opened the doors for me to all things heavy and dark. Also, Chop Suey!? Classic.
Black Sabbath — Black Sabbath (1970)
The Wizard changed me. It made me want to grow my hair long. Gave me the tools from which I’d start mixing all-black gothery with hippie-dippy looks and take a deep-dive into the ideology for good measure. And it told me that music from before the 90s could be good. That’s a revelation I’m still very thankful for.
Evil Empire — Rage Against the Machine (1996)
I remember having a passing interest in Rage Against the Machine’s debut when I found it on our family computer’s music collection. Seemed pretty cool. I then learned that Evil Empire was also a thing. A CD purchase later and 15-year-old me borrowed my dad’s Walkman on the way to what I think was a daytrip to Clevedon. Never before had I listened to an album twice on the spin in one journey. It was the coolest thing I had ever heard. And I still think it’s damn cool. Timmy C’s bass riffs here probably planted the seed that told me bass-playing was my musical destiny. Zack’s spat shouted lines taught me that singing and growling weren’t the only valid forms of vocals. And perhaps, in a way, their lyrics got to me. I’ve been far more left-leaning since. Coincidence? I think NOT.
People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm — A Tribe Called Quest (1991)
Cue A Tribe Called Quest a few years later, telling me once and for all that rock, metal (and all their different varieties) weren’t the only valid forms of music. When my friend played me Can I Kick It? it felt like everything changed with the flick of a switch. Opening me up to hip-hop, incidentally, opened me (fully) to the idea that I could like and listen to anything, as long as I liked it. I Left My Wallet in El Segundo is now one of my favourite songs of all time and genre no longer matters.
Ten — Pearl Jam (1991)
17-year-old me felt like he’d found his soulmate in this album and its warbling, soppy grungery. In actual fact, this stadium rock-tinged grunge record came at exactly the right time. A lovesick teenager needs music to pour his soul into, right? Though, in the grand scheme, Eddie Vedder and co. had a much more wide-reaching affect on me. Those curly locks and twangy guitars plunged me into a fully-fledged [state of hopeless romanticism and] music obsession. And from that initial obsession, it gave me the ambition to play. Also, I stand by that this is a fantastic album, even if nowadays I’ll usually pick Vs. over it.
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea — Neutral Milk Hotel (1998)
This record holds a special place in my heart. I’m not going to claim that that’s unique to me. Because it totally isn’t. Nor is the fact it changed my entire aesthetic (or what I attempted to make my aesthetic). Still, this was another that came at a perfect time. Turning 18 was a turbulent, strange and amazing moment that lasted months between nights and situations I’d never experienced before. It was new, it was different, and though exceptionally messy it was massively exciting. And every life-moment needs a soundtrack. This collection of strangely infatuating shrieks was just that.
Joy as an Act of Resistance. — IDLES (2018)
Last but very much not least, these Bristol bois storm in. Listening to Colossus for the first time felt like I was part of a revolution. Seeing them play Samaritans live at Clifton Downs ’19 felt like a life-defining moment. In large part, my recently established love of Bristol has been owed to the fact I listened to this album. The slightly younger version of me thought any older person who was in any sort of band playing punk in a local venue was the coolest person alive — and local goliaths IDLES felt like the epitome of that. Maybe it was this album that opened me up to drinking hipster coffee brews and developing 35mm photos. Probably, let’s face it.
Albums that Nearly Made the Cut (I know it’s a bit of a cheat but whatever):
Wrath — Lamb of God (2009) — Really close, this’un. I remember writing a little article on MyIGN to my ADORING 100+ followers (I was so proud) explaining why I loved music so much after being completely enamoured with this album.
Yesterday’s Gone — Loyle Carner (2017) — Not the catalyst quite like People’s Instinctive Travels was, but this really opened the doors wide open for me to the softer side of music.
Eyes Open — Snow Patrol (2006) — My mum playing this in the car year-on-year on summer holidays, though I wouldn’t admit it at the time, really contributed to my love of music. Catchy melodies like that in Chasing Cars probably got me obsessed with singing alongside RHCP at an early age.
Frizzle Fry — Primus (1990) — Shake Hands with Beef introduced me to the mouldy bass crew. But this album got me into them. Could probably credit this in large part to my love of weird stuff. AND BASS.
I’m in Your Mind Fuzz — King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (2014) — Worked almost hand-in-hand with In the Aeroplane Over the Sea in forming my crappy aesthetic vision of the last year or two.
KOKOROKO — KOKOROKO (EP, 2019) — I’d dabbled a bit before, but this threw me crashing into the world of all things Afro-beat and jazz once and for all. A bit more spice to my music playthroughs has since been hugely refreshing.
Fronteiras — Čao Laru (2019) — It was more the gig at The Bell (BEST pub in Bath) that did it, but I can credit the album too. The final push I needed to delve deeper into the gloriously vague field of World music? Thank you very much you lovely folks from Brazil (and Argentina and France).
Hedonism — Bellowhead (2010) — Never really touched it with my own playthroughs at the time, but my dad played this stuff all the time and it was so much fun. Can probably credit this for my since developed love and appreciation for all things folky.
Superunknown — Soundgarden (1994) — The grungey stylings of this absolute BOI of an album in a lot of ways defined my later teenage years. I still sob to the sound of The Day I Tried to Live to this day.
Relationship of Command — At the Drive In (2000) — One of the best albums of all time has to get a mention. While the aforementioned Bedlam gave me the initial push into punky stuff, this got me obsessed with shouty vocals and scratchy guitars.
Led Zeppelin III — Led Zeppelin (1971) — Or maybe it was the second half of this album that gave me the appreciation for folky nonsense.
