The dinosaur of rock mags has turned in its Top 50 Albums of 2005. Gee, what a shocker at #1. Yawn. So many of the choices are so…zzzzzz. What? Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry. Some of the picks are fine, but ……zzzzzz……hmm?! Oh! Must stop reading it so I can stay awake.
Category: Lists (Page 18 of 19)
Billy Joel was the man who made me a music fan. When my older brother brought home The Stranger in 1977 when I was but 5 years old, something inside of me just lit up that has never gone away since. It’s been hip to bash Joel through the years, for reasons I’ve never understood. Shit like he never rocked hard enough, or people thought he was posing when he did rock out, or whatever. The man’s written a ton of great songs, and a bunch of them are tracks that aren’t even the hit singles. Here then are five of those songs worth checking out and delving a little deeper into Joel’s impressive songwriting catalogue.
1. “Surprises” – This tune is from Joel’s masterpiece, 1982’s The Nylon Curtain. That album is filled with stellar songs, but this one seems to be the creepiest and most cryptic. I always wanted to ask Billy about this song if I ever got the chance, much like Chuck Klosterman did for the song “Laura” from the same album as detailed in his book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. It’s not quite clear whom Joel is singing to here, or what ominous thing has transpired, but it makes for a very cinematic-sounding song.
2. “Roberta” – From the under-appreciated Streetlife Serenade album. A song that at first glance looks just to be another tune about a guy trying to woo a woman, at closer inspection in turns out that this is a love song for a prostitute. Joel’s voice is still young sounding here, but on many songs from the album he sounds world-weary and much older (“Last of the Big Time Spenders” and “The Great Suburban Showdown,” for example). Billy has always had interesting female characters fill his songs, but none so interesting as Roberta. The coda absolutely kills in this song, too.
3. “Summer, Highland Falls” – From Turnstiles. Granted, this is undoubtedly an album track that many folks are probably familiar with, as Joel has played it live on and off throughout his entire career. But for me, far above and beyond “New York State of Mind,” this is the crown jewel of Turnstiles. It has a whole feeling and sound and piano part that Billy never once again revisited, as if he knew he perfected it right here. The song is about relationships becoming familiar, when the sex has worn off, and the sofa has two permanent ass-impressions in the cushions. It’s one of Billy’s most touching tunes, and places his far beyond other singer-songwriters of the time who were tapping the sap for similar themes (and, undoubtedly, bigger hits).
4. “Sleeping With The Television On” – From Glass Houses. The Glass Houses album is a lot of fun all around, but this song mixes the New Wave with the rock bounce effortlessly. Another song about boy and girl, this one finds Joel singing to a “Diane” and realizing he doesn’t have the nerve to talk to her and express his feelings, so they’ll both just wind up going to sleep by the tube. It’s kind of a two-fer track, coming right after “I Don’t Want To Be Alone” on the album, which also finds Joel playing the nervous lothario. This definitely sounds like a song that came out in 1980, as does the entire album, really, but that’s part of its charm.
5. “The Great Wall of China” – From The River of Dreams. Honestly, this is the only song I can really stand on this album. But the reasons why are clear for me. It sounds like a leftover from The Nylon Curtain days. There’s a big sweeping intro, then it gets down to some darker-edged rocking, and then has some really bizarre mumblings about something or other during the fade that I’ve never been able to decipher. The rest of the album just goes on too long. I always felt that Billy started slipping around The Bridge album, but God knows that the stretch from it to Storm Front and then to The River of Dreams produced some huge hits for the man. And so it goes.
Last week, we had a rather spirited discussion about the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s Class of 2006 (Black Sabbath, Blondie, Miles Davis, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Sex Pistols), after which I listed ten bands from the ‘80s that I want to see get into the Hall before, say, Paper Lace, who gave the world “The Night Chicago Died.” Most of my picks, admittedly, were no-brainers (the Mötley Crüe pick was more for fun than anything else), but the point I was really trying to make was that the music of the ‘80s should not be dismissed in favor of the bands from the youth of the majority of the voters, and I fear that it will take New Order and the Smiths a good five years of eligibility before they get the nod. I, for one, cannot wait to see the induction ceremony for the Smiths. You couldn’t find four people who hate each other more.
This week, I am going to run my white flag up the pole and list the bands that I dearly love that, in my not so humble opinion, do not stand a chance in hell of getting into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Most of these artists are people whom I feel deserve to get the nod. But I understand how the “biz” works, and that respect and credibility will only get you so far. The reason they’re not getting in, as far as I’m concerned, is because they didn’t sell enough records, which more or less makes this the American Music Awards Hall of Fame, but I digress.
And so, without further ado, bands I love, listed in no particular order, that will not get into the Hall.
1) Roxy Music/Bryan Ferry. These guys were a huge influence on a score of different bands, from the glam bands of the ‘70s to the New Romantics of the ‘80s. One thing’s for sure, a good chunk of Bowie’s best moves came from Bryan Ferry, and I think Bowie himself would admit that.
2) Neil Finn/Crowded House/Split Enz. The man pisses genius, as Q Magazine once succinctly put it. Neil’s presence in Split Enz forced brother Tim Finn to quit fiddling around and write something accessible, and Crowded House is one of the best pop bands in the world, ever. Finn’s solo stuff ain’t bad, either. Lord knows, his song “Turn and Run” is the best thing that Sheryl Crow will ever be involved with, but we’ll get to Sheryl Crow in a little bit.
3) Squeeze. They were smart, they were funny, and they wrote infectiously catchy songs. So why is it that they don’t have a prayer of getting in? I wish I knew. We’re now surrounded by scores of smartass singers who think they’re clever, but there hasn’t been a record since Ben Folds Five that comes even close to outsmarting East Side Story or Argybargy.
4) Aimee Mann. If she signed up for military duty, they’d make her a sniper. Mann has a way of disarming people so quickly that they don’t even know that she has taken their most powerful weapon away until she’s shoved it halfway down their throat. Meanwhile, Sheryl Crow writes songs that are barely good enough to be Aimee’s B-sides, and Crow will likely skate into the Hall on a silver platter. And why is that? Because Crow sold more records, therefore she must be better than Mann. But I know better. Hopefully you do, too.
5) George Michael. No one wants to admit that they like either a George Michael song in particular or George Michael in general, and yet, this guy wreaked unholy havoc on not only the Billboard Pop charts, but the R&B charts as well. And yet, unlike Finn, or Mann, or Squeeze, it’s that very success, or the inability to maintain it, that will cost Michael in the end. There was a point, when Faith ruled the world, that Michael was even bigger than Madonna. I admit that even I tried to resist his charms as long as I could, but the one-two-three punch of “Everything She Wants,” “Kissing a Fool” and, most importantly, “Cowboys and Angels” made me a believer. If they are holding his post-Listen Without Prejudice material against him (which is patently unfair, as there is some great stuff on Older), then I would like to submit Exhibit CH: The Pretenders, into evidence. They made one, one, good record, and they got in. For my money, George Michael has written more good songs than Chrissie Hynde has ever played.
6) The Hollies. I had planned on making this list about more current artists, but before I began, I went through Steve-O’s list of inductees, and couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that the Hollies are still on the outside looking in. WTF? These guys were incredibly popular and highly regarded. Isn’t that the magic combination? Shouldn’t they get in for “The Air That I Breathe,” “He Ain’t Heavy (He’s My Brother)” and “King Midas in Reverse” alone? If you need more examples on what’s good about the Hollies, I can give you about 20. I’m sure the Delays (whose album Faded Seaside Glamour is the best combination of the Hollies, Sundays, Cocteau Twins and the La’s that you’ll ever hear) could give you about 20 more. But sad fact is that if the Hollies were going to get in, it would have happened by now, and that is a crying shame.
7) Blur. They were bar none my favorite band of the ‘90s. I shoved Modern Life Is Rubbish, Parklife and The Great Escape down the throats of everyone within reach (didn’t I, Steve?). But after four superb records (1997’s Blur was their last hurrah), the blood started to spill between Damon and Graham, and neither has been the same since. Sure, Damon’s doing just fine with the Gorillaz, but you know that it’s killing him inside that the Gorillaz are bigger in the States than Blur ever was or will ever be.
Again, Mayor of Simpleton gets an assist for this thread, as it was his post on the Lennon tribute that got the mind whirring.
This list could probably be a thousand songs long, and split up by genre, but for the sake of your time and my sanity, I submit to you the 10 songs that I never, ever need to hear again. I won’t list things like “What’s Up” or “Ice Ice Baby,” because there is no point in listing them. I’m after songs that are accepted as classics, but make me want to put on Metal Machine Music and beat my head against the wall.
1) “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da,” the Beatles. I love the Beatles. Love, love, love the Beatles. But this song drives me batshit crazy, it’s Paul at his dopiest. I get the sense that Paul wrote it to be one big nose-thumbing fuck you to John. Now that John’s dead, it’s become the song that makes me want to punch babies.
2) “Under the Bridge,” Red Hot Chili Peppers. It’s the lisp. That damn lisp.
3) “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” the Who. Even Townshend is embarrassed by this song now.
4) “Come on Eileen,” Dexy’s Midnight Runners. I watch Kevin Rowland and “Eileen” in the video, in their rolled up overalls, and think, Man, I bet they really stink.
5) “Imagine,” John Lennon. Yes, yes, war is bad, we get it, John. You know what’s worse? The fact that Paul wasn’t around in the ‘70s to make you step your game up a little.
6) “Fly by Night,” Rush. The song is all about a new start. Here’s hoping this song finds a new life, somewhere far, far away.
7) “Sweet Child ‘o Mine,” Guns ‘n Roses. It may have launched them into the stratosphere, but that doesn’t make it suck any less. Axl, in case you didn’t know, no woman likes to be called ‘child’ by her lover. If given a choice, they’d even prefer ‘Rocket Queen’ to ‘child.’
8) “Blister in the Sun,” Violent Femmes. I lost a girlfriend in high school because of this band, but that is not why the song is here. It’s here because I’m simply sick to death of it. “I stain my sheets, I don’t even know why”? Thanks for sharing, Gordon. Now stick your arms into this white jacket and everything will be fine.
9) “The Reflex,” Duran Duran. Those who know me know that I am a dyed in the wool fan of the boys from Birmingham, but this is a silly, silly song. The only reason it succeeded was because Nile Rodgers edited the shit out of it and made it a dub mix.
10) “Light My Fire,” the Doors. Me: Denis, can you take this one for me? Denis Leary: Sure, you Duran Duran-loving pussy. ‘I’m drunk, I’m nobody, I’m drunk, I’m famous, I’m drunk, I’m fucking dead, okay?’ Jesus. Go get some Stones records, you fairy.
(Love to the Mayor of Simpleton, for giving me the idea)
The news hit the AP wire today, announcing that four acts from ‘70s and Miles Davis, who died in the early ‘90s at the age of 375, were inducted into the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. They’re technically the Class of 2006, but I call them the Class of ’81, since any band whose debut album was released in 1981 or earlier was eligible for inclusion. The very fact that only two of these bands were within sniffing distance of the ‘80s leads me to believe that a ton of also-ran ‘70s bands will get in before any of the truly worthy ‘80s bands will, and that, frankly, disturbs me.
And so, without further ado and in no particular order, I submit my top ten list of ‘80s bands that should be inducted into the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame sooner rather than later. U2 is already in, so they’re obviously disqualified.
1) REM. Forget the Bill Berry-less train wreck that the band’s become of late, and remember when they and U2 ruled the rock world the way Darth Vader dreamed of ruling the galaxy with Luke Skywalker. Between 1987 and 1994, they were bulletproof, and there are thousands of bands and nerdy record store clerks who worshiped at their altar.
2) Madonna. If she doesn’t get inducted in the Class of 1983/2008, she will have Guy Ritchie and her children dropped off the Empire State Building. Which is really hard, because there are these tall metal bars on the rooftop deck with sharp points that curl inward. I’m guessing she uses a catapult.
3) The Smiths. Forever changed the face of modern rock, they did. Johnny’s done some good stuff with Electronic and The The, but he has to know that his best work rests within this band’s catalog, feuds with Steven Morrissey be damned.
4) New Order. Simply put, there is no electronic music scene without these guys. Kraftwerk may have gotten there first (something I’ll get to in a minute), but New Order was the band that fused a rock and roll sensibility into those machines, which in turn created a legion of knockoff bands by the late ‘80s. Even the Cure nicked half of their best licks from these guys. “In Between Days,” anyone?
5) Guns ‘n Roses. It may have ended in a haze of lawsuits and coke, but Goddamn, when Guns ‘n Roses was clicking, there wasn’t a band that could come within a thousand miles of them. And forget Appetite for Destruction: their best stuff was all over the Use Your Illusion albums, the greatest single album that never was.
6) Janet Jackson. Because you don’t make it to First Name Only status without earning it, bitches.
7) Public Enemy. Because their records from the ‘80s still scare white people.
8) Run DMC. The kings of rock. There is none higher.
9) Beastie Boys. It’s safe to say that not even Rick Rubin had any idea what kind of band the Beastie Boys would become. After all, find another band who went from the Juvenile But Massive Debut to Groundbreaking, Trendsetting Sophomore Album.
10) Motley Crüe. If only because they lived the life of rock and roll excess to a degree that would even make Bonzo and Keith Moon go, “Whoa, dudes, let’s not go nuts here.” Few bands embody the spirit of rock and roll more than Motley Crüe. Oh, and they also wrote some kickass tunes.
Bubbling Under: Bands and artists I would like to see inducted but will likely need some help
• Duran Duran
• Depeche Mode
• Stone Roses
• Talk Talk
• The The
• Ministry. The birth of industrial, people.
• English Beat/Madness/Specials. Someone from the ska era has to be represented, dammit.
I didn’t list Nirvana (whose first album Bleach came out in 1989 when none of us were looking) because they’re a no-brainer first ballot inductee. Ditto the Pixies (comment entered after Neil totally faced me on their omission).
Five holdovers from the ‘70s
1) Kraftwerk. Man, how on earth are these guys not in? They were and are light years ahead of their time. Hell, Coldplay’s stealing their songs and claiming them as their own, fer crissakes.
2) Van Halen. And so, a generation of shredders was born.
3) T. Rex. Yeah, okay, Bolan’s dead, so he’ll never know you didn’t induct him, but for crying out loud, bands are still ripping him off. That has to be worth something.
4) Cheap Trick. Few bands have meant so much to so many different genres of music. Cheap Trick is that band. Big Star gets all the love, but Cheap Trick was the better band, by a country mile.
5) Rush. Thrown under the progressive rock bus only because no one knew what to do with them. But they have amassed a body of work that today’s popular bands would be lucky to emulate.
Comments, suggestions, hate mail? Bring it, suckaz.
Post script: It just hit me that I left off the Red Hot Chili Peppers, whom I meant to include, so you Fleabies out there, quit hatin’ right now.
FOLLOW US!
CATEGORIES
© 2026 Eat Sleep Drink Music
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑