YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR IT, BUT: A YOUNGREN LIST OF "ULTIMATE ALBUMS"

By JOHN YOUNGREN

VH-1 is doing this new show. I saw an episode over the weekend.
They call it, "Ultimate Albums."
The idea is to focus on an album that made an impact beyond the commercial or critical, though attributes in those areas certainly help. But "Ultimate Albums" -- from what I gather, even if VH-1 hasn't yet involved me in the production meetings -- also features albums that have a seminal impact; albums that change lives.
You know what I mean: These are albums that play like greatest hits collections, even though they're not. Albums you never get tired of. They're albums that define a place, a mood, a time, a period of your life.
The episode I saw was one hour on Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet," a rather fascinating look at an album I have to admit I have not appreciated over the years. And it inspired me to take a look at my own CD collection – and offer (lucky for you) 10 of my own "Ultimate Albums."
A few caveats: I made a point of selecting only albums that I currently own on CD. A couple of albums I can think of from the early years of my life -- Supertramp, anyone? -- aren't in my present collection. And, I am not putting anything by expected John Youngren-favored performers -- the Beatles, Stones, The Who, Paul McCartney -- on this list, for that would be a little less interesting and I wouldn't have much of a "Pop Stew."
I also think you should note that my "Ultimate Albums" became "ultimate" because, at least for me, of the incredibly personal associations they create. Music marks time and memory. What might be a throwaway for someone else could become the soundtrack of your life simply because of circumstance and events.
So each of the following, in its own way, impacted some portion of my life. And, maybe most importantly, there isn't one of them that I wouldn't put in the CD tray right now and listen to from start to finish. They're that good.
All that said, I'm sure I'll do something like this again.
For now, enough qualifiers. In no particular order:
1) "Out of Time," R.E.M., 1991. A lot of people don't remember the exact title of this album, arguably R.E.M.'s leap into the commercial mainstream, with "Losing My Religion" and "Shiny Happy People." It doesn't much matter. It's a sure party favorite, a brilliant collection of pop-flavored melodies that felt familiar from the first time I heard them. Though I'm prone to hits like "Religion," (the Brenda-Dylan Breakup Song, as early fans of "Beverly Hills, 90210" will attest) and the underappreciated "Radio Song," I have to admit in recent years I've become more attached to the closing trio of songs on this album, the elegant "Texarkana," "Country Feedback" and "Me In Honey." Thanks, T.C. and Kent, for showing me the back 3. And thanks to my sister, too. Once I'd caught on to R.E.M. through "90210," she was actually patient enough to lead me through a few of their previous albums. Yes, I admit it.
2) "Third Eye Blind," Third Eye Blind, 1997. Has it been five years already? This album defined a summer for me -- a trip to Cancun, early mixes and mix parties, new friends, certain blind-and-futile pursuits – and continues to be part of my random mix rotation on warm summer nights at home. Its signature hit is the smash "Semi-Charmed Life," with its "doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo" chorus, but digging through the songs brings out even greater satisfaction, especially on album-track-style highlights like "Narcolepsy," "Burning Man," "Jumper" and the original so-called "Chardonnay Song" -- "How's It Going To Be?" Believe me, this spun at least a few times over cigars and wine on the deck at Arlington Place. And my advice, learned the hard way? Don't listen alone.
3) "New Miserable Experience," Gin Blossoms, 1992. I discovered Gin Blossoms late and worked my way back; I am still convinced that they are one of the great unappreciated bands of the '90s, mainly due to their premature demise. Nevertheless, their mainstream debut album, "New Miserable Experience" is, from start to finish, a pop masterpiece, all the way from track 1 to track 12. Most recognized are hits like "Found Out About You," "Hey Jealousy" and "Allison Road," but almost better are quirky, inspired pop gems like "Cajun Song," "Mrs. Rita" and the haunting coda to the album, "Cheatin'," a simple little twang-and-shuffle number that sounds unlike anything else on the CD and will inevitably leave you wanting more.
4) "Recovering the Satellites," Counting Crows, 1996. Another album of time and place, this is the second in the Counting Crows' catalogue, and -- unlike another band or two counted on this list -- either of their other two studio albums could probably fit in here, too. "A Long December" was the monster hit; its video with female "Friends" cast members was in heavy rotation during the period. But, despite his brooding mopiness, Crows' leader Adam Duritz had more up his sleeve -- including a pair of personal favorites, "Goodnight Elisabeth" and "Monkey." And for me, perhaps the highlight of "Recovering The Satellites" is found in a mid-album track, "Have You Seen Me Lately?," a unexpectedly driving rocker built around the phrase, "I guess I thought that someone would notice. I guess I thought somebody would say something if I was missing." Yeah!
5) "Rumors," Fleetwood Mac, 1977. I count this one for a few reasons. Foremost, it was the first time in my life I can ever remember anyone giving me an "adult" album (my father, for Christmas in '77). I may not have appreciated the inner-squabbling and relationship-angst that fueled so many of the love and breakup songs in this infamous Fleetwood Mac album then (I was 12, after all), but I could get my ears around the start-to-finish pop sensibility, bopping bass and drums and playful (if painful) lyrics, most expertly drawn by the-then prince and princess of rock, Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. Twenty-five years later, I finally get some of the relationship stuff (I think), and I still think "The Chain" is one of the greatest rock songs in history.
6) "Boston," Boston, 1976. What is there to say? Another '70s classic, this is perhaps one of the best examples ever of an album that holds up, from start-to-finish, then as well as it does now. It is a one-album greatest hits collection, starting with the sweeping "More Than A Feeling" and working its way through "Peace of Mind," "Foreplay/Long Time," "Rock & Roll Band" and "Hitch A Ride." Each of those songs has been FM Classic Radio staples for nearly 30 years. Where do they lead? To "Something About You" and "Let Me Take You Home Tonight." Does Boston have a greatest hits album? This is pretty much it. Any white guy under 40 worth his weight in vinyl can pump every goofy air guitar riff and pseudo-whine to every Bradley Delp phrase. (At least that's what Dock and T.C. and I do, and we're normal, aren't we?) Perhaps the weakest song on the album is Track No. 5, "Smokin'." But yeah, you probably know that one, too.
7) "Scarecrow," John Mellencamp, 1985. Actually, "Scarecrow" is credited to "John Cougar Mellencamp," and from what I recall, this was the period when "John Cougar" was reclaiming his real surname. Pretty impressive effort. Every song on this album is a hit, at least in my mind, recalling my early college years at the University of Utah, which included my first car, a mechanically-challenged Ford Fiesta; softball with the Daily Utah Chronicle staff; Utes' baseball; learning to illegally drink too much beer at The Pie and The Pub and The Beta house; falling in, out and in love again and hitting the road one spring break for Denver, Colorado. "Rain On The Scarecrow" and "R.O.C.K. in The USA" are probably the best commercially-known songs, but I will always love (and fondly recall) a couple of in-album rippers, "Justice & Independence '85" and "Lonely Ol' Night," tear up a bit on "Small Town" and still hear my college buddy Griff warbling along with "Grandma's Theme" on that long, dark road trip to Denver.
8) "Girlfriend," Matthew Sweet, 1990. Dean and Robin introduced me to this album by the brilliant singer/songwriter Matthew Sweet, and he has been a standard-bearer for me ever since. As pop albums of the past 12 years go -- is this really a 1990 release? Has it really been that long? -- this is nothing short of breathtaking, a collection of songs (including the title track, "Girlfriend," which is always a pull away from any mix I make) that each stand out on their own merit AND add up to a sum that's greater than the whole of their parts. What's not to love? "Divine Intervention" lays down the law as the opener – its soaring lyrics alone set a standard. "I've Been Waiting" and "Looking At The Sun" surround "Girlfriend" ("Don't you need to/be back in the arms of a good friend? Oh, 'cause honey believe me/I'd sure like to call you my girlfriend") as the top four tracks, as strong a batting order to open a CD as any I've heard, ever. Treasures continue -- but I'm partial to "Evangeline" (which Sweet absolutely drills while playing live, in particular) and "I Wanted To Tell You," which I used as the theme for a sports radio show I once hosted. Pure, unadulterated genius (the album, that is. The radio show was a little lacking).
9) "Cracked Rear View," Hootie & The Blowfish, 1994. Go ahead, laugh. Now, it's easy. Then? What album was bigger -- had more impact, made a larger splash? This is the epitome of an "Ultimate Album," at least for me, and it was introduced to me by my old buddy Filo during what would turn out to be a life-altering journey to Charlotte, N.C., during the spring of 1995 (I guess I hadn't been paying much attention to Hootie prior to that). I later gave the 21 days that surrounded that trip, in the heart of that spring, a name -- "Destiny & Credit Cards" -- and I'll let you know when the screenplay is done. This Hootie debut album would be the soundtrack, from the smash single "Hold My Hand" to "Only Wanna Be With You" and "Running From An Angel." I'm most partial to two tracks to this day -- the strutting "Hannah Jane," which opens the album with such bark, and the mournful "Look Away," which served as a rainy day credits sequence for my ill-advised imagination, running away from me. I've seen Hootie four times live since this album debuted, including once when I was in the crowd at the "Today" show. They're always enjoyable, but there'll never be another period for them -- or me, I suspect -- like the spring and summer of '95.
10) "Tuesday Night Music Club," Sheryl Crow, 1993. Crow has had other, arguably more complete albums. Her current hit, "C'mon, C'mon" is in Top 1 rotation in my car CD shuffler right now. But at no time was there such an association of time and place and music like there was for me with "Tuesday Night Music Club," Crow's rocking '93 debut. Driven by its hit, "All I Wanna Do," the album's gritty, world-weary-but-let's-have-some-fun attitude seemed so honest; little did we know that this would become characteristic of this artist for a decade to come. I still love "Strong Enough" (which the Dixie Chicks' Natalie Maines covers with great aplomb, by the way) and "The Na-Na Song;" "Can't Cry Anymore" and "Leaving Las Vegas" are other album hits. And "I Shall Believe" is simply a great Sheryl Crow song; the album's finale is the kind of track that says she's going to be around for some time to come. Finally, "Tuesday Night Music Club" will always be linked, at least for me, with another ill-fated sports radio show I once hosted, on yet a different station a few years back. We played "All I Wanna Do" to death. But then again, who didn’t?
Those are a few of my "Ultimate Albums."
Now, I’m willing to bet you have a few of your own, too.

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