The eMusic Dozen: My Dozen

On one of the first punk comps I heard, the Fall stood out like the sore, angry thumb that they were. During 1978's "Bingo-Master's Break Out!" I was confused — and hooked. Our family took a train trip across the country in 1985 and I had a cassette of this record that I wore out on my old Walkman. With Brix in the band there are real pop moments like "Oh Brother" and "C.R.E.E.P." as well as the more truly creepy "Elves" and "Bug Day." Obscure misanthropy never sounded so hypnotic and fun.

The Minutemen played in the basement of a local church around 1984 or '85 and blew all of our conceptions about what hardcore was, how long songs could be, what a guitar could sound like. d. boon was bouncing around the stage, Mike Watt strangulating the bass, drummer George Hurley on fire; it was maybe the best show I've ever seen. (Honor Role from Richmond opened and was equally fantastic.) After that, I went and got a Tele. By this second album they'd already hit their jumpy stride, d. boon's scratchy guitar and friendly bark all over Watt and Hurley's frenetic, melodic grooves on classics like "Bob Dylan Wrote Propaganda Songs."

New Zealand had been harboring a great pop wave for years before it finally reached U.S. shores in the late '80s, largely courtesy of the great NZ label Flying Nun Records. The "hip" scene was in Dunedin but the Bats bucked the trend, straight outta Christchurch. Armed with jangling, buzzing guitars, a propulsive rhythm section, and Kaye Woodward's telepathic harmonies on Bob Scott's tightly constructed pop gems, the band has kept the lineup intact and continues to charm the pants off anyone within earshot; just try to deny the pull of the plaintive "The Bells."

Nothing obscure about this record, just pure, emotional pop music written by geniuses at the top of their songwriting game. The Go-Betweens were on top of their game for some time, in fact, and remained so through last year's amazing Oceans Apart. I came to this band through Metal and Shells and played the song "Draining the Pool" on every radio show I did in high school and college for a long time. But this is the record that got me obsessed and addicted. One Superchunk tour memory is riding alone in a taxi to the outskirts of Prague at 4 AM to some Eastern Bloc housing that had been arranged for the band that night, this cassette in my Walkman making me slightly less sad to be on tour so far from home. The Go-Betweens were heavily on my mind when I was making the new Portastatic album, and then even more heavily, and sadly, when we got the shocking news of Grant McLennan's death in summer, 2006. I hardly knew him, but his music is still here to be known and loved.

So many Bill Evans records to choose from, so little space in a Dozen. I read Miles Davis' autobiography when it came out and he didn't have kind words for too many people, but I remember him speaking of Bill Evans in genius terms and it made me go back to someone I had originally dismissed as perhaps a bit "soft." Now, there is really never a time when you could say "Should I put on some Bill Evans?" and I would say no. I just listen over and over to this record, and many others — Alone (Again), Waltz for Debby, Portraits in Jazz, his record with Tony Bennett, so many great ones — and yet I never feel like I completely get it. Bill Evans is just operating on another level.

Take your pick from this series — even if they don't become your favorite records (like this one did for a while), there's always something fascinating going on. When I listen to this disc I find myself thinking, "This is exactly what I want jazz to sound like sometimes." And it turns out it's because there just aren't enough albums of Ethiopian jazz from the early 70's — searching, modal, liquid music.

Speaking of southern soul, these guys carry a serious R&B torch. Greg Cartwright's songs are so solid and classic-sounding that you can't tell the covers ("You Got Me Hummin'") from the fantastic originals ("Your Love Is a Fine Thing"), and the band has a quality that you can't fake but that is so important to the rock & roll — abandon.

When Superchunk was in Chicago recording Come Pick Me Up, I didn't leave the studio for seven days due to the snow and our work schedule. When I finally did I went to a record store and Joyce was playing on the stereo. I bought a compilation and brought it back to the studio. "Is this any good?" I said. Jim O'Rourke's eyes lit up in the affirmative. Joyce began making music (and recording her own songs, and playing guitar) in the 60's and nearly four decades later she's still making magically elastic music that goes beyond the "bossa" label that the title here implies. She is a gentle powerhouse.

This 2000 album suprised me and hooked me in a way that not many modern records do anymore. I enjoyed the Delgados' records before, but The Great Eastern was a leap that made me fall in love, specifically Emma Pollock's vocals on "Accused of Stealing," and the way some straightforwardly great AM-radio style pop melodies are suffused with strings and a modern haze of distortion at the points where the record swells up to be something bigger and more emotional than it has a right to be. They continued the fine work on subsequent records like Hate, but this one is the milestone in my musical memory.

The name was puzzling, and I didn't want to listen to world music from Hoboken in 1987, but when President came out I heard "Barnaby, Hardly Working" and "Drug Test" in a row and realized that this band could make perfect records. When I'm making my own music and get to a point where an aesthetic decision needs to be made, I often wonder "WWYLTD?" and I go with that, as Georgia, Ira and James really don't know how to put a foot wrong in the rock & roll arena. I could really put my finger down on the discography and go with wherever it landed, there's a deep body of work under the YLT banner, but I went with this one because there's no better place to experience the range of what this power trio puts out there. Sometimes during "Blue Line Swinger" I faint and then wake up again and it's still going on and getting to the part where Georgia starts singing over the guitar solo and then I faint again. Awesome!