Episode 33
I hinted last week that I kind of missed when social media was more fun. Stupid games and stupid pictures. Sometimes it’s just nice to take a breather from politics, problems, and disengage and play for a minute.
What started me thinking about this was a Facebook “memory” from 2010, where I’d been tagged by a friend for 15 Albums in 15 Minutes. As a lifelong record collector, I thought it was fun, and I really enjoyed seeing everyone’s lists, especially when they added some notes about why they chose a particular album. Right now seemed like a good time to bring that old list back (before I have to get into music promo mode in my real life). So that’s what I’m doing.
Only difference for me is that, since I tend to babble, I’m going a little deeper than I did originally. My list remains the same, nothing’s changed since 2010, lol. But I thought I’d include the how’s and why’s of how the list came to be. Since this has the potential to go long (did I mention I tend to babble when talking about records?), I’m breaking it into three posts, five at a time. So, here goes.
Note: no particular order on these albums, I couldn’t rank them if I wanted to. I love them all 🙂
At Budokan — Cheap Trick
The first live show I ever saw was Cheap Trick, in support of their All Shook Up album. The tickets were a birthday gift from my aunt and uncle, and I went with my mother. This show exposed me to rock and roll, back when it was still fun, and it probably had the largest impact on my life and what I like to think I did for a living most of my life.
The times were different. I remember fliers from the local speed dealer left on car windows. I remember people smoking pot all over the auditorium. I remember not having enough money for a tour shirt (it was my first show, I didn’t even know they had tour shirts). I remember my ears ringing for hours after, and I remember being at school the next day thinking, “I’m doing THAT, and I don’t need to be HERE anymore.” It was truly life changing, and when you listen to Live at Budokan, you’ll hear most of what I heard that night, minus the coolest intro ever (the show opened with “Stop This Game”). Over the years, my Cheap Trick relationship kept growing, at least one show a year for the past 30 years, and yes, I usually met my mother there. I made a point of staying in touch with the band, mostly because my mom liked to remind me that someday Robin Zander was going to be my stepfather. Enough said?
Everything in that original memory still holds up today. This isn’t my favorite Cheap Trick album (that’s Dream Police, no contest, that whole record is perfect, with All Shook Up a close second), but Budokan is probably the most relevant one, and the best entry point if you’re curious about the band. You have to see them live to really understand their magnetism, and this is the closest you can get to their heyday now. They’re still good live, but they’re in their 70s, so things have slowed down some.
Three songs off this record do a lot of work for me. “Hello There” opens most of their sets to this day, and the backstory is pure Cheap Trick logic: they used to play a lot of crappy gigs with no sound check, so they wrote a song specifically to test their levels while playing. It’s the perfect way to greet a crowd and it’s practical. “Ain’t That a Shame” gives me goosebumps, not because it’s my favorite song on the record, but because it’s tied directly to a memory, the 1980 American Music Awards, where Cheap Trick really arrived on the American music scene. I can still see every move of that performance. And you’ll find the best versions of “I Want You to Want Me” and “Surrender” here, period. Early on, producers couldn’t capture the band’s energy in the studio; go listen to the original album versions and you’ll hear why neither song was a hit until this live record came out. Live, they’re infectious, fun, sincere, and loud. Everything you’d want out of a rock and roll song.
I still catch them when they roll through town. My mom passed away since those years of meeting up at shows, and it stings a little seeing them without her now. But I think going is part of how I work through that. Everybody processes grief differently. This is one of mine.
Seeing Cheap Trick live is what made me decide I wanted to do music with my life. This album captured that feeling, and decades later, it still makes me want to get up on a stage and do it again.
Oh, yeah, did I ever tell you all about that night I got to hang out with Robin and the crew at a karaoke hotel bar? Maybe that’s a story for another time…
Emotional Rescue — The Rolling Stones
In the late 70s, flea markets were all the rage in Tulsa. My parents went most Saturdays and took me along, my aunt and uncle usually came too. My parents would hand me a dollar and say knock yourself out. My mom had an extensive 45 collection from the 60s, so I already knew and liked the Rolling Stones going in. At the flea market I’d blindly buy 45s and albums by the Stones and by the Monkees (who I watched after school on TV). That’s what turned me on to the Stones’ 1970s material. I rarely spent more than a quarter on a record, so I built up a nice little collection fast, and I’d spend the rest of the afternoon in my room playing these gems on my Disney record player as loud as it would go, dancing around and imagining I was Mick Jagger.
My first memory of something “new” by the Stones was Some Girls. The song “Shattered”, I love that song. It had this element of wrong and dangerous to it that pulled me in.
Back then, radio stations would play whole new albums on the air at night. One night they played Emotional Rescue before it came out. I think I fell asleep during it, school night, but I remember hearing “Let Me Go” on the radio the next day and it felt like hearing a song I’d written myself. I knew that song from somewhere, but it was brand new. This album had the coolest poster sleeve ever, cooler than the zipper on Sticky Fingers, and I probably still have that poster somewhere. Musically, I first remember hearing the title track on the radio and thinking, “oh, that’s different.” I liked it and quickly owned the 45. After that, “She’s So Cold.” But it was “Let Me Go” that really sucked me in and made me a Rolling Stones fan. I felt like I’d had a psychic experience with that one, singing it before I’d ever heard it, and then hearing it on the album and thinking I’d written it myself. Looking back, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. My best guess now that I’m older is that it played on the radio while I was dozing off that night, so, yeah, I really did know the song. But at the time it opened my eyes to the idea that I might be able to write, and the album’s lyrics raised a lot of questions in my mind about life in general, about a darker underground world being out there.
When “Emotional Rescue” came out as a single, oh man, I knew I had to have the album. I immediately bought the 45 with my allowance money at Oertle’s (a local department store) and played it over and over. It was so different. I still get chills thinking about it as I type this. I loved how they could do super fun songs like “Where the Boys Go” and “She’s So Cold” and then turn around and do something completely different sounding. I think that’s where my craving for bands who sound unique got planted. Almost every band I’ve ever gotten into sounds like no one but themselves, and I’ve strived for that in my own music over the years too.
I still follow the Rolling Stones, and I finally got to see them at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas a few years ago. It was rainy and cold. Skinny old Mick and the gang didn’t let the rain bother them one bit. It was a perfect experience I’ll cherish forever.
The Monkees — The Monkees
Hey, hey, I was a Monkee fan. I chose this one out of all their albums because, overall, it’s one of the more cohesive listens, I like nearly every song on it. By the time I found the TV show and the music, the Monkees had already come and gone, so I got to absorb all the albums around the same period, which basically let me build my own greatest hits list. If I had to pick just one, this is it, though “Pleasant Valley Sunday” off Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd. sums up a lot of my thoughts on the world and is an all-time favorite regardless of album.
Let me try to put the why and how into perspective. I was only eight or ten when I found the Monkees, and as I’ve mentioned before, I was pretty much an only child up to that point. Their songs helped me deal with loneliness and figure out life in general. “This Just Doesn’t Seem to Be My Day” made me understand that people have bad days, while “Tomorrow’s Gonna Be Another Day” got me through that bad day to another one. “Let’s Dance On”, hey, just dance on. “Saturday’s Child” fed my desire to have friends. It’s hard to put exactly into words, but they were like my make-believe friends. I’d listen to their records in my room and fantasize about my world and what it could be, imagining I was in a band and famous.
While their music may not have been critically acclaimed, it was fun, and I loved playing the 45s in my room and singing along. This album exposed me to teen hysteria, screaming girls and all that, that was new to me, and the whole “pop star” concept fascinated me. Later in life, revisiting it, it also exposed me to how well media and marketing teams can do their jobs.
In the late 80s the Monkees reformed and toured, and I caught that tour. I loved it. It was exactly what I needed in my life at that point, it made me happy. Years later, I saw Davy Jones play a solo show at a casino, not long before he passed away. Such great memories, and I still have a soft spot for all four of them.
On a good day, you might still find me sitting on a beach singing “I Wanna Be Free” from this album. Thanks, Davy.
Parallel Lines — Blondie
This album came out right around the time my own awareness of being a musician, and what “rock stars” even were, was coming into full bloom. It’s a perfect album start to finish. What really grabs at my heartstrings is that Debbie Harry still had innocence and insecurity in the delivery of the lyrics at this point. She hadn’t been trampled by the chaos of fame yet. They weren’t famous yet. They had a hit overseas but really weren’t anyone in America aside from New York. You can hear that in her voice on this album more than any other.
Everyone knows “Heart of Glass” and “One Way or Another,” but my favorites from this record are “Hanging on the Telephone,” “11:59,” “Picture This,” and “Will Anything Happen.” That chorus on “Will Anything Happen” just tugged at me and made me fall in love with the band. I played this album so much I literally wore it out. I bought it and re-bought it many times. Many of the songs are a perfect mix of new wave, rock, and oldies mashed into something new, and the Debbie Harry/Chris Stein writing team are still favorites of mine to this day. Her voice, I’d kill for it.
And I say “band” because I wasn’t just into Debbie’s look and voice. I thought Clem Burke was pretty damned cool too. I was wanting to play drums myself around that time, sitting in my room, dreaming of being in a band, and Clem was an incredible drummer to listen to.
I always fantasized about being friends with Debbie and Clem. A few years later, when I found out she’d done the music for John Waters’ Polyester, the fantasy grew even more. I would’ve loved to spend Friday nights with Debbie and John, all of us smoking cigarettes and being cool while John got drunk, like he always liked to do on Fridays. I love that the two of them are still friends today. Hmm, maybe there’s still a chance for me.
Years later, we saw Blondie play a show in Rhode Island. One of my best concert memories, hands down. During “Atomic,” I was front row singing along, “oh, your hair is beautiful,” and Debbie turned to me and said, “why, thank you.” She interacted with the crowd all night. I was locked on Clem most of the time though, and at the end of the show, everyone was jumping around waiting for him to toss out his sticks like he’s always known to do. He worked his way over, pushed some people out of the way, looked right at me and said, “you.” Then handed me his sticks. I guess he’d noticed I’d been paying attention to him all night. I was in heaven.
I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Blondie and Debbie Harry solo quite a few times over the years, and I’m so glad I did, especially since Clem Burke passed away recently. That broke my heart. I don’t know that I could see Blondie again without him. Debbie Harry solo, yes. Blondie, no. He really was the heart of that band.
This album holds an incredibly special place in my heart. It takes me right back to 78th Street in Tulsa, and it brings back good memories, bad memories, and everything in between, just like a perfect album should.
Duran Duran — Duran Duran
Yes, those of you who know me well are probably surprised this whole list isn’t Duran Duran. Ha, yeah. I could write a chronicle of Duran albums versus my own life, but this isn’t that list. Today we’re exploring the debut.
Picture it: a hot summer day in 1981. I’m on summer break, watching this new channel on cable called MTV. “Planet Earth” caught my eye. So, bright and early one morning, after mowing lawns the days before to make some money, I roller-skated my way over to Starship Records & Tapes. I bought the 12″ of “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell and the 12″ of “Planet Earth” by Duran Duran, both imported from England. How cool was I? This song didn’t sound like anything else I’d heard before, and the synthesizers made my ears and mind work. The beat was good too, I could dance to it, gave it a ten. That day also kicked off my obsession with record collecting. Roller-skating four miles each way was only the beginning of that habit.
A few things really drew me in about this band. Obviously, Nick Rhodes and the synths, though at this point I didn’t think he looked as cool as he’d eventually get in the Rio era and beyond. It was the sound that got me. He had this flanged pad sound, you can hear it in “Girls on Film,” “Anyone Out There” (a really good example), “Rio,” and beyond. It was kind of his signature back then and I loved it. I wasn’t new to synthesizers, I’d already heard Gary Numan and Devo, but I’d never heard them used this way inside a rock band. Contrary to popular bashing, they weren’t a “keyboard band,” they just happened to have a keyboard player, which wasn’t all that common at the time. They also had a really dark undertone that most people who only heard the radio singles never picked up on. Listen to “Waiting for the Nightboat” for a good example, one of my favorites. “Girls on Film” I could live with or without, though it’s great fun live. “Careless Memories” is another one I never cared much for until I saw them live, and now it’s one of the standout tracks on the album, but not until I heard it that way. Might be the same thing I mentioned with the Cheap Trick recordings, the engineers of the era just couldn’t fully capture that live energy on tape. I like the lyrics too.
My favorite song on the album is, obviously, “Planet Earth,” because it’s the one that turned me on to the band in the first place, and it just didn’t sound like anything else out there. Heavy keyboards, but still a driving rock song. I liked that energy, and honestly, that’s still something I chase in new music today. Mainly though, they didn’t sound like anyone else. They still don’t. Most every band I’ve ever liked and stuck with over the years doesn’t sound like anyone else, they only sound like themselves. That’s one thing I miss about 80s music. Now everyone tries to sound like everyone else, and that’s kind of sad. In the 80s you didn’t want to sound like anyone else. For what it’s worth, that’s been a driving force in my own music too, not sounding like someone else. If you sound like someone else, why not just go listen to that someone else instead?
This album opened up a whole world of discovery for me. After “Planet Earth,” I wanted to know more about synthesizers. I wanted to play one. I wanted to be a keyboard player. And I became one.
Funny side note, sticking with the Blondie thread from earlier: Duran Duran opened for Blondie after this album came out. Years later, Nick and Warren produced a song for Blondie called “Pop Trash Movie” when Blondie was trying for a comeback in the 90s. It didn’t make the album, but I have a demo of it with Debbie singing. It got released later as a Duran Duran song instead, with Simon singing. Having heard both versions, I have a genuine, deep desire for those two to duet someday. There’s a real similarity in tone between their voices, and I’d kill to hear what they’d sound like together.
So, that’s my first 5 of 15. I’ve included, I think, all of the tracks I mentioned in the Spotify player at the bottom of this page. Well, I included it if it exists on Spotify. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed eavesdropping on my musical tastes and how they played a role in my life. Again, I love talking about records. So I’d love to hear what your first 5 (or all 15) are, and whether you had any of the same records as me. What did those records mean to you? I’m in the mood for a laugh, tell me about all those Shaun Cassidy records. I’ll be waiting.
Until then, more road (and another 5) next week. Have a great weekend!
Jeff
Audio credits: Intro: Damone (Fast Times At Ridgemont High) / Surrender (Live) by Cheap Trick, Outro: Goodnight (Live) by Cheap Trick.
Listen to the “What Was That Song?” playlist, featuring music mentioned on Jeff Elder Isn’t Real:
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