Category: Impactful Albums

A collection of mini-articles that discuss the albums that impacted me most; based on the “10 albums that had an impact on me” Facebook challenge.

MOTHER’S MILK – PART I

March 24, 2024 / Forrest G Boughner

IMPACTFUL ALBUMS DAY 3

History remembers 1991 as the year alternative rock “broke” pop music. Fair enough. But if my memory serves – and in trivial matters it usually does – “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was more of a final straw than battering ram. Thanks to MTV, a multitude of off-center acts broke through in the 1980s. Yes, once the first wave of music video superstars crested in the mid-’80s, pop radio devolved again into a wasteland of edgeless trifle. But cool stuff did still bubble through. In fact, by decade’s end, even some of the weirdest and wildest underground acts around had managed to forge their way into the mainstream consciousness; bringing me to the next impactful album in my queue – Red Hot Chili Peppers‘ breakthrough 1989 LP, Mother’s Milk.

Released roughly 1/4 the way through their journey (so far), Mother’s Milk may just be the most important record in Red Hot Chili Peppers’ catalog. Granted, their next LP – 1991’s Blood Sugar Sex Magik – rightfully made them superstars. It was a funk-metal masterpiece; one of my favorite records of all time; undeniably brilliant. But hear me out. Mother’s Milk is a gloriously invigorated heavymightynaughtyspazzy collection of funkaedelicjazzyrapmetalsoulpunk certainly unlike anything I’d ever heard before. It stands on its own merits as a key precursor of the ’90s alt rock explosion. Most vital, however…born from the most trying of circumstances, the album rescued a teetering RHCP from almost certain oblivion…

IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES; IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES

Like flawed protagonists from epic literary tradition, Red Hot Chili Peppers’ long ascent from cult fixtures of the ’80s SoCal skate punk club circuit to darlings of the ’90s alt rock scene to, finally, rock institution is not for the feint of heart; a tale full of hopeful beginnings, soul-breaking tragedies, and redemptive victories. Stick with me while I illustrate the hellish crucible the band survived to make Mother’s Milk.

In 1987, the Uplift Mofo Party Plan LP triumphantly united all four founding members for the first time on record. Their name was rising; more infamous than famous at this point, perhaps, due to their stage antics, but rising. Nine months later, in the summer of ’88, RHCP was gutted by the sudden death-by-heroin-overdose of guitarist Hillel Slovak and subsequent exit of bereaved drummer Jack Irons. The future looked bleak. But the grief stricken remnant Chili’s – rapper/vocalist/post-modern poet Anthony Kiedis (himself, caught in the throes of heroin addiction) and hyperkinetic master of the poppin’slappin’funkyass bass, Flea (Michael Balzary) – braved on.

With little time and many obligations to meet, numerous would-be replacements received trials by fire on the tour. Many names passed through – D.H. Peligro (Dead Kennedys) and DeWayne McKnight (Parliament), most notably. Ultimately, the spots went to 18-year old L.A. native guitar demigod John Frusciante and prodigious punisher of the skins Chad Smith – thus establishing the most highly esteemed, if inconstant, of all Red Hot Chili Peppers lineups to date.

SET IT STRAIGHT

Truthfully, before Mother’s Milk, I didn’t even know Red Hot Chili Peppers were a real band! Too untamed and difficult to categorize, their record label didn’t know how to sell them. Mainstream radio wouldn’t touch them. No one I knew listened to them. So, my only prior reference point was their brief, anarchic cameo in the 1986 Kirk Douglas/Burt Lancaster caper comedy Tough Guys. But, boy, did those ninety-plus seconds leave an impression. Half-naked, slathered in paint, adorned in DIY faux-glam costuming, and bouncing like pogos, the Chilis just seemed too cartoonishly unhinged and fun to be true! I was intrigued, of course. But, assuming RHCP to be a joke band/plot convenience, I didn’t investigate further. My bad.

NEVERMIND DURAN DURAN

Flash forward: high school senior year; 1989. Change was in the air. Wacked-out on a late-puberty deluge of testosterone, I edged closer to “normal” social functioning than ever before. Oh, I was still an angsty mess. But, thanks to budding friendships, improved grades, and a newfound competitive drive, things were…better. Further, detoxing cold from a serious comic book habit and seeking new hobbies (crutches) to indulge, I turned more intentionally to collecting music.

Of course, I’d already filled a few vinyl-clad cassette cases by this point. U2, INXS, and Rush were probably my favorites. I’d stockpiled some new wave (Cars; Duran Duran; Huey Lewis) and tapes by ’70s AOR survivors (Asia; Yes; ELP). But this is where things really started to get interesting. Thanks to the discovery of harder-edged rock bands (GNR; Living Colour), classic rock radio, and the conspicuous presence of underground lifers (Cult; R.E.M.; New Order) on mainstream radio, my collection expanded rapidly. And then…

In the fall of ’89, a provocative album sleeve caught my eye at a local cd shop; a high-contrast black and white image composite depicting four young, ragged shirtless fellows nestled into the arms of a beautifully bare Mother Nature. I’d always thought this shop was uncommonly sterile and unhip for an indie – like a Bose store, but they heralded the arrival of this curiosity with a modest display. Scanning the sleeve further, my eyes registered colorful text and graphics in the upper corners. The left-side read “Mother’s Milk“; the right – recognizable as a logo – bore chunky, all-caps, sans-serif text in a circle around a like-styled asterisk shape. “Wait… What…,” I paused… “RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS…? Really???” Requiring no further convincing, I paid for the tape, thanked the clerk, and enthusiastically went on my way.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A SHOW OF HANDS

March 24, 2023 / Forrest G Boughner

Impactful Albums DAY 2

Canadian prog institution Rush are part of the triad of most highly exalted personal favorite rock acts (along with XTC and Red Hot Chili Peppers) that largely dominated my listening habits for the past thirty-five years. But, in tune with their reputation as an “acquired taste,” my fandom didn’t come instantly. Rather, it simmered slowly throughout the ’80s; finally coming to a frothy head in ’89 with A Show of Hands.

SET THE WHEELS IN MOTION

As I’ve said before, no one had a greater influence on my early music preferences than my older brother. Sure, we diverged somewhat when the stars of music video breached my consciousness c. ’82-’83, but our tastes still intersected more often than not.

His music was cool. He dabbled in quirky new wave stuff where melodicism balanced perceived weirdness (the Cars; Flock of Seagulls; the Fixx). Most importantly, he introduced me to some of the biggest prog/prog adjacent bands of the mid-late ’70s and early ’80s. Some of his favorites – Boston, ELO, Asia, ELP, and Yes – struck me pretty quickly. Rush, however, required more time to sink-in. I guess that Geddy Lee’s signature whale-pitch and Neil Peart’s contemplative, erudite lyrics combined with the group’s elaborate, sophisticated song structures were just too far ahead of me at the time. And the ’80s were supposed to be their most commercially accessible period (ha!).

ALL THIS COOL MACHINERY PLAYING MODERN MUSIC

Anyway, Rush records started filtering into the house in the early ’80s after my brother bought his Akai stereo* system. I think he started with the Permanent Waves or Moving Pictures and then steadily worked his way backward through their catalog until he’d caught up.

Late Saturday nights, he caught glimpses of the famed power-trio on The Beat. Hosted for our local PBS affiliate by DJ “Doc” Doug Podell and simulcast over WLLZ 98.7 FM (“Detroit’s Wheels”), the rock-focused music video show unfortunetely aired later than my “official” bedtime for most of the ’80s. But I found ways to partake of all the heavy rock awesomeness. I fit in strategic bathroom visits here and last-minute cups of water there. Maybe I accidentally forgot to pick-up a stray Ewok from the living room earlier that night… Either way, I distinctly remember wondering why the cheery kid was riding a nuclear missile in Rush’s “Distant Early Warning” clip. Yeah, I was getting curious, but I still didn’t fully understand the appeal yet.

* The coolest thing I’d ever seen up to that point, btw.

IF YOU PICK UP THE BEAT

But then Les brought home the VHS and cd editions of A SHOW OF HANDS. After a month or so of repeat viewings, Rush just…clicked! Like my brother, I couldn’t get enough. It’s impossible to say how many times we watched the video together. It’s just amazing that it didn’t fall apart.

By this time, I was singing along and vocalizing to Lee’s and Alex Lifeson’s dizzyingly diverse arsenal of bass/guitar licks. The true sign I’d been hooked, however, came when I started half-assed tracking Peart’s painstakingly arranged drum parts. My list of drum heroes would fill two pages, double-sided, but, seriously… From that point forward, he was the one; my personal messiah of all things percussion. What a scene it must have been – the sight and sound of drum-nerd brothers lap-tapping in tandem to the condensed Rush catalog. It’s almost as sweet as it is dorky (…almost). But that’s us (shrug).

IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO DECIDE YOU STILL HAVE MADE A SOUND CHOICE

A Show of Hands was the third of four live Rush albums to follow a cycle of four consecutive studio efforts and officially mark the end of a distinct phase of their career; the second to be issued with a companion video. Interestingly, like their previous tandem live release – Exit…Stage Left – each version of A Show of Hands serves a different purpose. Where the LP pieces together highlights from the previous two tours to (mostly) present an overview of the band’s output during that specific period, the video documents a specific date from their ’87-’88 Hold Your Fire tour and (mostly) captures the excitement of an actual Rush concert performance.

Now, one might think that continuity of experience between the distinct editions of A Show of Hands would be middling, but I don’t find that to be the case. The track listings are comparable enough. Further, the songs featured on both editions are virtually identical. Most importantly, the uniformly warm, dynamic, and tonally rich sound mixes arguably present “definitive” recordings of all Rush compositions presented. So the band overdubbed their parts to correct imperfections in the original recordings. Who cares. So what if the video omitted “Subdivisions,” “Time Stand Still,” “Mystic Rhthyms,” and “Distant Early Warning” and the record dropped “YYZ,””The Spirit of Radio,” “Tom Sawyer,” and the grand medley “2112 Overture”/”The Temples of Syrinx”/”La VIlla Strangiato”/”In the Mood.” It is kind of odd that the record dropped “Prime Mover” given how the lyric provided the album title, but I’m quibbling. In the end, the collective songs have rarely sounded better.

CLOSER TO THE HEART

I’ve taken a lot of ribbing for being a Rush fan over the years – particularly from females and “serious” music snobs. Whatever. Rush made my world bigger. If Asia, Yes’ 90125, Emerson, Lake, & Powell, and Star Wars (props to John Williams) were my initial pathways to appreciating complex forms, A Show of Hands blew out the conduit. Thanks to Dirk, Lerxst, and Pratt (AKA Geddy, Alex, and “Professor” Peart), I can listen to classical, jazz, and other challenging forms, separate the parts, and follow what’s going on despite my lack of formal music theory training. Pretty cool.

Even now, eight years after their last tour and three years after dread cancer claimed Neil Peart, Rush still inspires me. With their wise words and music, they taught me to think and listen intentionally. Their success reminded me that, although nothing’s guaranteed, good things can come to those who work hard, keep perspective, and never give up on living their passions. Life is a marathon. Roll the bones. Peart’s playing was a prime mover behind the decision to finally buy my own drum kit (I’m just forcing-in the Rush puns, aren’t I). Just over two years ago, I started this blog to develop my writing and prompt creation of new art. Maybe I’ll never be more than a blunt instrument, but that’s not the point. Win or lose, whatever the obstacles, regardless of pace, it’s important to keep learning and growing. Keep piling on those little victories. Anything can happen.

RUBBER SOUL

March 14, 2023 / Forrest G Boughner

IMPACTFUL ALBUMS DAY 1

No artist/group has had a more profound long-term influence on my musical sensibilities than the Beatles. There’s also no denying my attraction to acts that share musical DNA with and/or owe debts to the “Fab Four.” But what album had the biggest impact? That’s a tough pick. No single, specific Beatles album stands alone as my favorite-ist favorite. But, all things considered, Rubber Soul probably played a bigger role than any other LP in hooking me on British rock for life.

Rediscovering Rubber Soul

Until recent years, I’d always assumed that my childhood indoctrination to the Beatles was limited to old 45s, Detroit rock oldies radio, and the ’60s cartoon; not the proper albums. In my late-teens, I acquired Sgt. Peppers; then, in my early-20s, added Magical Mystery Tour, Revolver, and Rubber Soul. But these albums received little play because my listening queue was overcrowded with other, more (relatively) recent music. Then I got older. Over the last fifteen years or so, growing feelings of alienation toward contemporary pop and rock forms prompted me to gradually shift focus back to the music I heard as a child; intentionally filling gaps in my collection with music from the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. Naturally, I started with the Beatles 2009 remastered stereo U.K. cd set.

All the Beatles studio albums (and the included Past Masters non-album single collections) re-ignited warm fuzzy feelings from childhood, but one disc stood apart; inducing a heightened, disorienting state of deja vu. I didn’t just know every word and note from every song on Rubber Soul by heart. I knew the play order, as well. That kind of imprint only comes with strict repetition. Somehow, I heard this album many, many times as a young child. It had to have been among the records my eldest siblings regularly borrowed from Nana and Pap Pap’s.

Why Rubber Soul is Special

The Beatles’ knack for writing genuine pop hooks and melodies was present from the beginning and they experienced exponential growth as songwriters, players, singers, and arrangers with each successive album. Nevertheless, their sixth LP, Rubber Soul, represented a bold step forward for the group.

First, the record ended their practice of padding track listings with obligatory, albeit enjoyable, American r&b, rock, and pop covers. Thus, all fourteen of the golden slabs featured are original compositions credited to John Lennon/Paul McCartney and George Harrison. Second, while early Beatles albums generally played like random collections of singles, the track listing on Rubber Soul sounds intentional. The record takes the listener on a genuine journey. Each song flows naturally into the next; each song provides a complimentary musical counter-point to those around it.

Starting a psychedelic journey

Also, while each of their albums were adventurous in their way, Rubber Soul clearly points toward the psychedelic revolution that soon followed. True, nothing here plays as dramatically trippy as “Tomorrow Never Knows” from its follow-up, Revolver, but the journey begins here.

Rubber Soul’s masterfully crafted, acid-tinged album cover provides the first hints that the Beatles had entered their psychedelic phase. The downright groovy, muted orange, curvilinear, hand-drawn title design in the upper-left corner contrasts strongly with the conventional blocky fonts used on all their prior U.K. releases. Also, the slanted camera attitude of the cover photo presents a less straight-forward image of the group. Accentuating the feeling that the boys had, perhaps, ascended to another level of consciousness, the subtly distorted photo is shot from below eye-level and treated with a green filter. Additionally, the image they project is less buttoned-up than in the past. Their trademark mop-tops are noticeably longer; matching suits and ties traded for unmatched, informal brown and black jackets and turtlenecks.

Musically, signs of their growing psych-leanings are evident in the deep-grooves on the riffing lead track “Drive My Car” and the driving proto-hippie anthem “The Word.” But that’s not all! Dig the formidably fuzzy guitar licks on “Think For Yourself.” Sit anywhere and ponder the gentle acoustic ballad “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)” as it mixes free-spirited beatnik imagery with exotic east-Indian instrumentation. Was this the first appearance of a sitar on a Beatles album? I think it was!

WHat else goes on

Let’s see… What other developments are going on here…? The melancholy moods that seasoned the group’s musical stew since Beatles For Sale continue on “Nowhere Man” and “Girl.” Harrison’s chiming 12-string folk rocker “If I Needed Someone” would’ve sounded right at home on the Byrds Mr. Tambourine Man (that’s a compliment, btw). The Beatles also wonderfully continue their tradition of heartfelt, reflective love songs with “In My Life” and “Michelle.”

Lastly, Rubber Soul showcases the Beatles’ talent for disguising dark/difficult lyrical themes in catchy sing-along tunes. I find this particularly interesting because the trait is unusually common among my favorite songwriters (Andy Partridge/Colin Moulding; Elvis Costello; James Mercer). Each case is one of a relationship that’s gone awry. On “I’m Looking Through You,” Macca sings of disillusionment with a “girl” he no longer holds up on a pedestal. “You Won’t See Me” has him describing the pain of having been cut-off completely. Ringo Starr laments his “girl’s” unfaithfulness on the country number “What Goes On.” Predicting the band’s impending retirement from live performance, Lennon’s anxious vocal on “Wait” has him returning to a partner/lover after a long time away, seemingly unsure of what will greet him when he gets there.

Twisting the tone from anxious to outright menacing, the lyric for the memorable album closer “Run For Your Life” portrays Lennon as an unhinged abuser who’d rather see his “little girl” dead “than to be with another man.” That’s about as dark as it gets folks, but I dare you to not sing along. Like everything else here, it’s an absolute earworm.