John Fahey introduced me to the real blues. His readings of the classics, and his own compositions inspired by the original working masters, are a quintessential part of my musical education. It had been too long since I sat down with my guitar and taken a good look at the landscapes it could create. Finding this album at North Street Records more or less changed my musical world, or perhaps refixed it.
Also, his "Special Rider Blues" is the my wife's unofficial theme song.
98. Captain Beefheart & the Magic Band - Doc At the Radar Station (1980)
Don Van Vleit helped me in so many ways that it's almost negligent to dedicate less than an entire entry to any single album of his material. I'm starting with his second latter day masterpiece and working my way up the totem pole.
Recommended Listening: Hot Head, Ashtray Heart, Run Paint Run Run, Sue Egypt, Flavor Bud Living, Making Love To A Vampire With A Monkey On My Knee
97. Tom Waits - Mule Variations (1999)
Mr. Waits is an appropriative artist, sure; but he's incredibly good at what he does. Every album is inherently different and yet the same.
Like a Universal horror movie, Tom's sound is distinctly out of time. He pulls songs along with a horse and carriage, but also sits comfortably behind the wheel of a diesel-fueled hot rod.
The voice may be a real problem for some people, and for very different individual reasons, but I've maintained it's just another element in his medium. One of many, many inclusions herein, Mule Variations sits comfortably within a legacy of dependable strangeness.
Recommended Listening: Big In Japan, Hold On, House Where Nobody Lives, What's He Building In There?, Eyeball Kid, Chocolate Jesus, Filipino Box Spring Hog, Take It With Me
96. Electric Masada - At the Mountains of Madness (2005)
John Zorn is a hero of mine, and anything he sets his mind to is guaranteed to thrill. Marc Ribot is my favorite guitarist, so their working together is in itself a boner. That same flavor he lent to Tom Waits is palpable here - the savory flamenco snakes he dished out for Waits have become spicy gypsy pythons and they weave and squeeze with fire.
The ensemble is on track, the melodies are engaging, and the solos are inspiring. "Metal Tov" is the icing, candles, and very first bite of the cake all at once. Two discs cover two separate performances with repeat readings here and there, though the results are nevertheless thrilling.
Without this album, I couldn't be in RYKYGNYZYR.
95. John Coltrane - A Love Supreme (1964)
Man am I glad I didn't give up on jazz.
All through my younger years I understood jazz to be blase, boring, cardigan music. Only the least offensive of adults listened to it, and any kid you saw jamming to a Weather Report tune was usually going to turn into a hip-hop producer six years down the road. Once I found John Coltrane, I realized I had only known "smooth jazz", and I was delighted to understand that I was actually a fan of jazz music.
Another thing I couldn't get behind was the apparently random soloing. A Love Supreme brings logic to all of that. Coltrane's themes are palpable, his arrangements flourishing comfortably.
This is one long tonal prayer, and it's all worth your time. The music does the talking here, sometimes literally, and its message is universal: A Love Supreme.
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