Record #78: Bruce Springsteen – Born to Run (1975)

And here, we have the record that made Bruce Springsteen the Boss. 
And I’ll admit–I didn’t care about Springsteen at all until last year when I got into the double-headed beast of Kurt Vile and the War on Drugs, but I’m glad that I was made to care.

The Boss is nothing less than a force of nature, howling tales of America as the powerhouse that is the E-Street Band races behind him.

And their influence can be seen even today, from the aforementioned War on Drugs to Arcade Fire. And it’s easy to see why: Springsteen pretty much invented the American rock anthem with all its fury and pathos.

​From the opening strains of Thunder Road, painting pictures of screen doors and dirt roads, to the title track’s passionate refrain (the title track is worth the price of the whole record, by the way. Pure gold), the Boss takes Dylan’s mantle upon himself and adjusts it to suit his context, and he does so without hubris or insincerity.

​And while Bruce Springsteen may have spent time some time dabbling in self-parody over the years, his breakthrough record is still, even over thirty-five years later, the stuff legends are made of. 

Record #77: Broken Social Scene – Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)

Compared to its landmass, Canada has a rather miniscule population. It’s a wonder then that two of the hardest hitters in indie rock call the Great White North their home. Arcade Fire, which often includes the entire music scene from Montreal, is the premier Canadian indie band, but in my opinion, Broken Social Scene (or, Everyone From Toronto Who’s In A Band) is the country’s true national treasure. 
If you don’t know BSS, all you need to know is that the Associated Acts section of their Wikipedia page is rivaled only by the Members section (notable members include Feist and all of Stars and Metric), and that the group doesn’t get together all that often, but when they do, magic happens (as evidenced by every full length). 

Forgiveness Rock Record is, outside of the context of their discography, an album filled with stage-crowding ensembles, gang-sung lyrics, glistening guitars, and shimmering electronics. A steady pop-ready four four leads most of the record, balancing noise collages and horn freakouts, becoming almost kraut-ish in places. But the record’s greatest asset is the combined skill and knowhow of the ensemble, which keeps the record’s sixty-three minutes from ever getting boring, or anything less than good. A great record from a bunch of people who know how to make great records.

Record #76: Broken Bells – Broken Bells (2010)

When I heard that Danger Mouse and James Mercer of the Shins started a band, I had to hear it to believe it. I have long been a huge fan of both, and the prospect of a collaboration set my mind racing with what it might sound like. My curiosity was sated release of of lead single The High Road, with its drunken keyboard intro and gospel-choired refrain, with Mercer’s trademark wordsmithing and melody making, and Danger Mouse’s signature sonic exploration.

My expectations were exceeded.

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Record #75: Bright Eyes – Cassadaga (2007)

cassadaga

When I got my first job, and consequently my first steady paycheck, I began to buy music. And I bought a lot of music. It was the same summer I started buying records, but until after I bought about a dozen CDs (that I’ve since upgraded to vinyl). Unlike the cautious and surefooted way I buy music now, the norm back then was for me to buy albums based on one or two songs I heard on college radio.

Record #71: Brian Eno – Ambient 1: Music for Airports (1978)

There are a handful of records that I put on if I just want to drown in texture, without being barraged by coherent lyrics or rhythms. Those records are Victorialand by Cocteau Twins, In a Silent Way by Miles Davis, Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, and this, Brian Eno’s first effort of creating ambient music that is, as he says, “as ignorable as it is interesting.”

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Record #70: Brand New – Daisy (2009)

Giving this album its first listen, my roommate looked at me perplexed and asked, “When did Brand New become These Arms are Snakes?” It’s a valid question—Brand New’s first two albums spend so much time putting LiveJournal-worthy insults and teen-movie drama to pop punk, and the music itself gives almost no hints as to what happened between Deja Entendu and The Devil and God to get Jesse Lacey to forget about his beef with Taking Back Sunday and focus inward and upward. But after the somber theology of The Devil and God, Daisy is not a surprise at all.

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Record #69: Brand New – The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me (2006)

I had written three ill-formed paragraphs about how emo was my musical center and how this album, with its brave questions and ruminations on spiritual matters and of lead singer Jesse Lacey’s spiritual shortcomings, as well as the band’s excellent mastery of mood, was one of the biggest influences in my own songwriting. But I can never not say too much about this album. It changed my life, and there’s hardly any way to write eloquently about that.