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14: Led Zeppelin’s IV (1971)

Man, how lucky was everyone in the 70’s? It’s such a fucking shame that even intelligent people talk about the music of the 70’s like it was some big coke-fueled dance party. Um, duh ppl. Yes, this is the one with “Stairway”. But you know what, fuck that – it’s not even the first track, it’s not even the closing track. And you know what? Fuck it if it was, “Stairway” is fucking great. But even if you have a problem with the song’s over-exposure, don’t dismiss this album as its device: “Black Dog”, “When the Levee Breaks” and “Battle of Evermore” are all incredible, the whole album is, top to bottom.

Led Zeppelin “Four Sticks”

15: The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds (1966)

When music geeks sit around and talk about great production, layered tracks and even when they move into ambient and electronic stuff, they owe a big wave and jelly donut to Wilson and this album. Not only did it set a creative and technical bar at its time, its an album comprised of fucking excellent songs, performed flawlessly.

The Beach Boys “That’s Not Me”

16: Big Star’s #1 Record 1972

As we get closer to the top five records, I find it harder and harder to write each blurb. It should get easier, because I’m getting so close to all the material that has impacted me so much, but at the same time, I feel nervous about trying to do any of it justice in a short little piece. What do you even say about Big Star, anyway? Simple pop gems that were performed with such meaning and emotion … so much beneath the surface. Jangly guitars, direct and uncomplicated expressions of feeling, nothing stadium about it. And right away, bands like REM, Badfinger, even Tom Petty and many many other (and to this day) work from this model. This quiet unassuming model of pop perfection.

Big Star “Thirteen” (mp3)

17: Talking Heads’ More Songs About Buildings and Food (1978)

They appeared earlier in this list, and it should really be no surprise that Talking Heads show up twice for me. When I discovered them, they completely changed my life. They were speaking to be about politics and art and the real world long before any of those dirty punk rock folks were. This was their sophomore effort, and bringing on Brian Eno as a producer was probably the reason the record turned out to be as popular as it was. There’s enough here to satisfy a curious listener for years, and I never tire of spending time with these songs.

Talking Heads “I’m Not in Love” (mp3)

18: John Cale’s Paris 1919 (1973)

Cale released several solo albums after VU, but none were as beautiful and accessible as this poetic gem from 1973. Though I truly do enjoy all his angular, gritty and frustrating work (Fear is another of my favorites from him), there’s something so pristine about these songs together, so literary and light. The production work is suitably sweeping and ethereal, featuring strings and open landscapes. There’s not really one standout track amongst these, but “Child’s Christmas in Wales” is probably my overall favorite. And seriously, if you haven’t spent any real time with Cale’s solo work, I suggest righting that wrong as soon as possible.

John Cale “Child’s Christmas in Wales”

19: The Beatles’ White Album (1968)

There’s tons of incredible Beatles material to talk about when we talk about good records — they never really made a bad one — but the White Album towers above most of the rest by being such an accurate portrayal of the band’s differing directions at the time of recording. All the songs on this double LP seem scatter shot and all over the place, but there’s a remaining cohesion that still makes it a complete listen from beginning to end. There are joyous moments of very devoted tunes, as well as some parodies (“Yer Blues”) and romps in other genres (“Rocky Raccoon”, “Helter Skelter”) and indulgent trips (“Revolution 9″). All in all it’s one of the most interesting records I’ve ever spent time with both production-wise and songwriting-wise. It was incredibly hard to pick a tune to share from it, but I settled on Lennon’s quiet “Julia”, as its been a favorite for me as of late.

The Beatles “Julia” (mp3)

20: Nick Lowe’s Jesus of Cool (1977)

He’s an original power pop god, a producer with golden fingers, and probably the most under-rated songwriter of our time. No one seems to really grasp the scale of Lowe’s influence and talent. I’ll gladly admit that for a long time, I was one of these people, but I like to think it was only because we hadn’t been properly introduced. One listen to Jesus of Cool fixed it all for me. There’s not a shaky track on this record. And honestly, if you go through his catalog, there aren’t many shaky tracks anywhere. He’s a class act, a true gent and a scholar of pop, truly one of the best ever.

Nick Lowe “I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass” (mp3)

21: Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run (1974)

I love The Boss, and he’s another one of those artists that comes with such an impressive catalog it’s hard to pick just one. Overall, Born to Run is my favorite, though, and it also happens to be the first record that featured Max Weinberg. On this record, Springsteen blew up all his themes to a grandiose level, and seemed to be filtering his romanticized notions of childhood, rebellion and failure through darker glasses. Though things got a little dark at times on this album, the overall vision is familiar and haunting. He made a lot of incredible records after this one, but here we find him perfect, alone and still hopeful.

Bruce Springsteen “Thunder Road” (mp3)

22: Arthur Russell’s Another Thought (1994)

Russell might have made a name for himself as a disco superstar, but his work with cello and his forays into pop and folk were most inspiring. There’s tons of great work to pull from, but Another Thought was the first complete album to really grab me, and it has stuck with me ever since. “A Little Lost” is my favorite tune from the record, a lilting love story that is incredibly indicative of Russell’s work: lonely, quiet and endearing.

Arthur Russell “A Little Lost” (mp3)

23: Fugazi (1988)

This was one of the very first truly moving listening experiences of my life. I’d heard lots of things — lots of great things, lots of loud things, even — but nothing changed me the way Fugazi did. It changed the way I listened to music, the way I interacted with my peers, and the outlook I had on life. Even still, hearing the beginning of “Waiting Room” sounds completely modern and brave to me.

Fugazi “Waiting Room”

24: Wilco’s Being There (1996)

I’ve always enjoyed Wilco, though I can never claim to be one of those rabid fans that honors every note. Over the years, Tweedy’s work has become more and more appealing to me — especially with the addition of Nils Cline — and I even follow Kotche’s solo work. Being There, however, is definitely the record that always lands well with me. It was the first thing I ever heard of theirs, and never really cared for Uncle Tupelo, so it was a big hit over the head for me. It was the mid-’90s and I was listening almost exclusively to loud punk rock, so the gentle, welcoming rock’n'roll of Being There struck this magical mystery chord in me I didn’t know was there. So many of these songs are spoken to another person, and it just felt like all the words were about me, my life, my experiences at the time … I’ll just never shake this one.

Wilco “Misunderstood” (mp3)

25: Dire Straits’ Making Movies (1980)

I have to remind myself that this was 1980. It doesn’t sound like 1980 to me. If you’re not familiar with Knopfler’s catalog, this is the one with”Tunnel of Love” and “Romeo and Juliet”, two of my favorite songs ever, with very sentimental attachments. Sometimes, things are hard, and sometimes the timing is off, but there are also bonds that don’t break just because other things do.

Dire Straits “Hand in Hand” (mp3)

26: Stevie Wonder’s Talking Book (1972)

I grew up with Stevie Wonder’s body of work, but as I got older and started actually listening to the individual albums, I always came back to this one. For whatever reason, I went years without this one on hand, one of those weird thing where I had it on a cassette, then a CD, then lost the CD, then let a friend borrow one, then (shh) downloaded it again last year. We’ve been through a lot, but we always return to each other. That’s what you do when something is really great.