Although New Traditionalists (1981) is way angrier, Freedom of Choice personifies Devo's convictions just a bit better. They were/are satirists of the highest order, confusing those they admonish and elating those in on the joke. "Whip It" and the title track proved that in spades.
Where their debut operated under the same flag as Talking Heads and the Modern Lovers, Freedom of Choice confirmed Devo's more signature synth-driven sound, making their disconnect from humanity that much more palpable. And check out that cover - a bunch of weirdos looking like a Jetsons-themed cult posed in front of two American flags.
You can dance to dissent just as easily as empty-headed mall rock. Just as Gang of Four, who would be on this list if they weren't from across the pond.
No. 8: Funkadelic - One Nation Under A Groove (Warner Bros., 1978)
George Clinton had always kept Funkadelic's mind as sharp as its groove, but One Nation Under A Groove declared itself damn near sentient.
Funkadelic take great delight in defying conventions, personified best by the track "Who Says A Funk Band Can't Play Rock?!" (whose duel interrogative/declarative characters only compounds the track's effectiveness).
Just as spirited, though not quite as angry, as past releases, One Nation Under A Groove just wants us all to get along. After all, if you free your mind, your ass will follow.
No. 9: Prince - Sign 'O' the Times (Paisley Park/Warner Bros., 1987)
The soundtrack to the 80s as delivered by the most important mainstream musical artist of the time. Prince was Isaac Hayes, James Brown, the Beatles, Gary Numan, and Jimi Hendrix all wrapped into a single compact package, and for a solid decade he could do no wrong. His lens was always pointed on America, and his work was always at its best when there was a riot going on (to quote Sly Stone).
Two records, four sides of sex, drugs, racism, and politics. That skinny motherfucker with the high voice not only showed America its reflection, he broke the mirror. And he meant it.
No. 10: N.W.A. - Straight Outta Compton (Ruthless/Priority, 1988)
Like the Sex Pistols, N.W.A. were the superlative anti-band. And more than any of their peers, N.W.A. had more in common with punk. Their prerogative was only to disrupt the status quo, to shout louder than the pollution shouting their world out of existence. Straight Outta Compton is museum quality art in the form of a graffiti tag, never losing its relevance or its ability to rile.
The world's most dangerous group had only one gospel, but its best verses continue to inspire.
No. 11: Iggy & the Stooges - Raw Power (Columbia, 1973)
Rock-and-roll has always prided itself at being dangerous, but Iggy Pop actually begs for danger on the last great Stooges record. Where the MC5 had righteousness in their hearts the Stooges projected nihilism, anger, destruction.
Every kid in England in the 60s had a Muddy Waters record; every kid in England in the 70s had a Stooges record. Whether or not you subscribe to the dogma of punk lineage, Jim Osterberg picked up the baton dropped by Jim Morrison and twirled with much greater skill than the Lizard King could ever hope for. And with Raw Power, he perfected the sound of "controlled chaos" (with a little help from David Bowie).
Raw Power is the sound of mayhem, matched only by the likes of Napalm Death or the Supreme Dicks. And if there's a better anthem than "Search & Destroy", I'd like to hear it.
No. 12: The Mothers of Invention - Freak Out! (Verve, 1966)
Rock's Dali makes his debut in the grandest of style.
Too smart for the drop-outs, too weird for high society, Frank Zappa smashed more than boundaries with Freak Out! When the Beatles were getting the credit for inventing new engineering techniques for Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, they were drawing from Zappa's notes from Freak Out!, the first true concept album. Composing music is one thing; Frank Zappa could conduct thoughts. When his home was raided by police on suspected pornography charges (charges he had anonymously made against himself in order to test the reach of the law), he made sure to thank them with spliced radio interceptions here and there throughout Freak Out!'s two disc sprawl.
Best an opponent in strength and all you earn is their resentment; best an opponent in skill and you earn their attention. I just made that up. Listen to Freak Out!
No. 13: Ornette Coleman - Skies of America (Columbia, 1972)
That idealism I spoke of earlier hadn't quite left America when Ornette Coleman produced his seminal orchestral work. As spiritual as it is political, Skies of America reflects the America Coleman had bouncing around inside his head. Which is different from Richard Nixon's America, which is different from Fred Roger's America, etc etc.
This is dissonant orchestral sprawl, jazz on scale little dreamed and never realized until April of 1972. Multiple players soloing in multiple keys converge in the most unlikely places to create something whole, unique.
Skies of America is a musical portrait of the USA. Take a long gander and you'll find the beauty within the mess.
No. 14: Bob Dylan - Bringing It All Back Home (Columbia, 1965)
"Well I try my best to be just like I am/But everybody wants you to be just like them/They say, 'Sing while you slave,' and I just get bored"
Dylan was more than bored, he was angry. The audience he had found was turning on him, but he wouldn't/couldn't turn his back on the sound he had found. He said it himself in "My Back Pages": "I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now." If Bob Dylan didn't know what Bob Dylan should sound like, how could his audience?
Think of Bringing It All Back Home as the New Deal, and rock-and-roll as a tired America, barely surviving on the same old-same old. The songs herein are highways where there had once only been dirt roads, a real secure legacy where there was once disarray and subsidies. President Bob Dylan did not lord over creation, though. He did the American thing and let the people interpret the language on their own.
For better or worse, we're still feeling the effects today. One nation, under Bob, divisible to the nearest thousandth; with liberty, not justice, for all.
No. 15: The Replacements - Tim (Sire, 1985)
If Google doesn't immediately recognize the town you grew up in, your musical avatar is Tim.
Before recognition of his talents sent Paul Westerberg hiding under the rug, his 'Mats were the premiere everyman band. The grandest achievement announced by the characters in Tim is getting up in the morning. They are not supermen, or daring, or sensual. They are unemployed, depressed, and bored as hell because of it. The Replacements may not have invented the concept of 'that song's about me', but they certainly perfect it.
Because the songs are great, no doubt. Do yourself a solid and listen to the whole record, from "Hold My Life" to "Here Comes A Regular". More so than their homeboys Husker Du's Zen Arcade (SST, 1984), Tim builds a narrative and follows it through every alley, past every bus stop. Where the Hold Steady sound pompous pedestrians braying their street cred for attention, Paul Westerberg's hairy croon humbly shares it experience over drinks at the CC Club.
Tim is personable, beautiful, angry, happy, powerful, and gently. It's the soundtrack of the small city-town, too industrial for John Mellencamp, too small for the Velvet Underground. Allow it to ruminate and you just may find yourself in the same shoes as one of its characters; allow it to embolden and you've got yourself a soundtrack to life.
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