Since my posting date happens to fall on the Feast of St. Valentine, I thought I’d do something a little different. I rolled through my collection and picked out some records that I have enduring love for, things that just set my cynical little heart a-flutter. So here’s a set of short blurbs about albums that are dear to my heart, even when they’re not the artists’ best work (or hell, even actually good at all). There’s no specific order or ranking, so just read on and maybe learn something.
Faith No More – Introduce Yourself (1987): Remember when the nu-metal rap thing happened and everyone pointed back at Faith No More because they had ONE SONG that kinda fit the description? Well, before FNM had the blessing and curse of acquiring Mike Patton as their vocalist they put out Introduce Yourself with with itinerant singer Chuck Mosley. The band on Introduce Yourself doesn’t even resemble the one that put out Angel Dust five years later (despite only changing vocalists); there’s none of the scary edge, gritty themes, or big-sound bombast. There’s just a bunch of guys making awkward late-80s transition music (trying to find that seam between metal and the radio) and Chuck. I’ll be blunt: Chuck Mosely can’t sing. But he did have the thing that FNM forgot with Patton- a sense of fun. Introduce Yourself is sloppy, raucous, poorly recorded, inconsistent, and frankly not very good in a critical sense. But man, I love it.
Bullet Lavolta – Swandive (1992): If any of you have any idea who Bullet Lavolta were send me a pic of this album in your hand and I’ll send you a prize. Swandive got forgotten even before it was released; RCA/Sony was in the middle of a shakeup that saw a bunch of new bands not get promoted, and Sub Pop (who handled the vinyl) hadn’t quite made their name on Nirvana yet. And it’s a bleeding shame, because it’s a great record. Too sharp for grunge, too slick for punk, too chunky for glam, not brutal enough for metal, Swandive is right in the sweet spot of what hard rock would have become if that Kurt fellow had never shown up. If you ever see it just buy it.
Lisa Loeb – Purple Tape (1992): A long-ass time ago, Lisa Loeb was just some teenager at Brown who had a guitar, an 8-track, and a passing acquaintance with Ethan Hawke. Then she got “Stay” on the Reality Bites soundtrack, became the first unsigned artist to top the Billboard 100, and put a face on the sub-genre of 90s female singer-songwriters with great glasses. But her demo – The Purple Tape – is the piece of her work that always stays fresh for me. Sure, there are missteps (she was 22, we can’t all be Mozart) and some of it works better as the full-band versions on Tails, but it’s so bright, so young (and honestly, has some of her best songs). It was re-released in 2008 (as The Purple CD) and now you can get it on iTunes.
Rainer Maria – A Better Version of Me (2003): What can you say about a record that can reference particle physics and the Lincoln assassination while still producing some of the most gut-punching songs of loss and failed love recorded in the 2000s? Part math-rock, part poetry, A Better Version of Me might actually be my favorite record (though it would need a death match with Downward Is Heavenward). Caithlin De Marrais’ voice just drags me in and swallows me whole.
Kiss – Love Gun (1977): Even amongst Kiss albums, Love Gun is legendarily awful. I can sum up why I love it no better than this:
Your Shitty Record Won't Review Itself 