What if Garbage went to Minneapolis and recorded in that funky R&B / rock hybrid style made famous by Prince, The Time and André Cymone ?
Missisipi Jones―comprised of vocalists / instrumentalists Mississippi and J@$―are the answer to that colorful inquiry.
Mississippi Jones represents the kind of artist unafraid to blur the lines between genre, gender, age, race or any other social lines. Yet, they wear their roots on their sleeve proudly. That juxtaposition makes for fascinating listening on their new extended play, Recourse: Elemental 1. The EP is set to precede a series of four EPs with varying sonic themes; the project will stretch throughout the remainder of 2015.
Recourse: Elemental 1 itself snatches up listeners and carries them along a broad journey with only three cuts. Opening with the fizzy “Mr. White,” the duo sets the tone to fussy fun for Recourse: Elemental 1. The remaining tracks “Stone Cold Killer” and “Tre (s)” alternate between fever and restraint. The rocky contrast will sate those looking for a listening experience that is fearless, but frothy.
Recourse: Elemental 1 had its platform dressed with the pair’s first album, Unreleased (2014)―another worthy entry for spinning. The act is poised for broader exposure and if they continue to keep their eye on quality, it’s almost promised that you’ll be hearing more of Mississippi Jones in the future.
[Editor’s Note: Recourse: Elemental 1 is currently available for purchase via CDBaby. For current information on Mississippi Jones, visit their official site.-QH]
Spice Girls (1) / Kylie Minogue (2) / Donna Summer (3) / Brandy (4) / Seal (5)
Spiceworld (Virgin, 1997): My desire to grasp “the groove” combined with curiosities for musical epochs gone by when I encountered this album. Further, my appreciation for character in a voice―not just a voice―stemmed from this LP. Spiceworld also proved that producing good music didn’t guarantee fair appreciation from music critics―popular music politics aren’t always just. The Spice Girls were the reason I picked up a pen to write about music and give voice to artists / fans who didn’t have one.
Kylie Minogue (deConstruction, 1994): Kylie Minogue made me relearn everything I thought I knew about pop song structure at the time. The “suites” that were fashioned on the album weren’t laborious, instead they formed their own patterns. In regard to the actual texture of the music and Minogue’s voice, it was the right blend of maturity, evolution and exploration that captured me.
The Wanderer (Geffen, 1980) Donna Summer never fit into the traditional slot that black women were meant to stay in―musically speaking or otherwise. I was enamored with The Wanderer, but it would be years before I would hear its influence on other women (Madonna, Kylie Minogue) that I favored too. I’ve often remarked that this record was the first “dance-pop departure” vehicle that set that standard that dance-pop was not the only mode pop operated in. Summer didn’t just create that model, she stamped it with this album.
Human(Epic, 2008): Personally, this album has been an emotional companion for me since its release; in the context of Brandy’s legacy I think it was her most consistent thematically. Human had Brandy putting her own experiences to a sonic backdrop that was timely (production wise), but still had that “Brandy feel” to it. I am not sure that she’ll ever top this record.
Human Being (Warner Brothers, 1998): What a songwriter, but due to him being someone of color he was marginalized on both ends of the music spectrum. It’s a shame, because Seal’s ability to work within a soul framework without losing pop’s melody stood second-to-none. This album was darker and maybe that’s why it received such a cold shoulder at the time. I’ve always loved its stormy appeal.
Cyndi Lauper (6) / Culture Club (7) / Sophie Ellis-Bextor (8) / Cathy Dennis (9) / Madonna (10)
Hat Full of Stars (Epic, 1993): Hat Full of Stars crossed folk, R&B, dance and alternative; Lauper’s style on this was very New York and it made the record sound big, especially listening as a teenager in the summer of 2002 when I copped it. Her songwriting was never better, you can really hear it on “Who Let in the Rain,” “Feels Like Christmas” and “Someone Like Me”.
Colour By Numbers (Virgin, 1983): An album that always comes immediately to mind as living up to its hype. I loved how sharp the music on this was, but not so slick that it didn’t leave room for Culture Club’s character. “Black Money,” an ultimate tearjerker, I realized I had to “grow into” with life experience to appreciate.
Shoot From the Hip (Polydor, 2003): I like that even when her first record painted Bextor in a corner creatively, she made another album that pushed back against pop being tagged as, you guessed it, dance-pop. There are some floor fillers here, but they don’t sacrifice the arc of this album pulling from other places for its inspiration.
Am I the Kinda Girl?(Polydor, 1996): I remember the first time I heard this album and I was just blown away. The way the 1990’s alternative tunage interacted with 1960’s pop was gorgeous. That something this refreshing wasn’t more broadly known continues to sadden me.
American Life (Warner Brothers, 2003): A lot of people incorrectly pegged American Life as Madonna trying to admonish others when she was examining herself. Musically it was her third in a four part electronic quartet that concluded with Confessions on a Dancefloor (2005). Granted Confessions was warmer at its surface, but American Life won me over as the last great ballad vehicle for Madonna.
Melanie C (11) / Carly Simon (12) / Tori Amos (13) / ABBA (14) / Kim Wilde (15)
Northern Star (Virgin, 1999): The visceral space Melanie C occupied fascinated me as a teenager. I don’t want to say this was a soundtrack to my angst, but that’s slightly accurate. The longing, the curiosity and how the LPbared its fangs…wow. Its underlying sensitivity spun well on the title piece and “Closer”. They’re just gorgeous recordings.
Playing Possum (Elektra, 1975): Never understood the critical drubbing this got. Even though I enjoyed the two previous Richard Perry produced predecessors, Playing Possum was curvier. Its sex appeal was seductive and comforting;Simon was brainy (and busty) when it came to her wordplay on this set.
From the Choirgirl Hotel (Atlantic, 1998): From the Choirgirl Hotel was my introduction to Tori Amos a decade ago. Having had this as an entry point, it set the bar Amos repeatedly met as I began trekking through her albums. I loved how succinct Choirgirl was, its combination of electronic and classical music enthralled.
The Visitors (Polar, 1981): ABBA really outdid themselves with this album. Pop acts are supposed to stay behind the lines of “inoffensive” and “innocuous,” but ABBA went noir with The Visitors. Man, you have everything from the personal to the voyeuristic on this effort and it’s (still) superbly catchy.
Catch as Catch Can (RAK, 1983): Catch as Catch Can’s charm is somewhat unidentifiable. Just as strong as the two previous RAK era albums that came before it, Catch held glossier grooves and assured vocal performances. It was the ideal cap to that first part of her sound.
Mandy Moore (16) / Lupe Fiasco (17) / Jody Watley (18) / Dannii Minogue (19) / Prince (20)
Amanda Leigh(Storefront, 2009): I really loved that this was the summation of Moore’s Coverage (2003) and Wild Hope (2007). Amanda Leigh placed its affection directly in the pocket of 70’s pop and a keen ear will hear her many influences―notably the Carpenters. Moore as a singer made this album a real treat as she wore a variety of hats depending on the song being handled.
Food & Liquor (Atlantic, 2006): My first hip-hop record. I have to be honest, it was my hormones that drew me to Lupe Fiasco; once his music hit my ears, I was a fan. His usage of samples and how he built his stories around them was beautiful. I had never heard hip-hop sound mournful and emotional―yet, there was this devil may care approach in how the songs were expressed.
Midnight Lounge (Avitone, 2003): Jody Watley has one of the most progressive bodies of work in R&B. From album-to-album, Watley preserved her persona while refining her sound. When I heard Midnight Lounge, its mix of soul and electronica was effortless; the record was revolutionary for Watley and R&B music.
Neon Nights (London, 2003): Where dance and pop intersected best in the last 15 years; Dannii Minogue’s Neon Nights was the record I danced to when I started (gay) clubbing. Outside of its obvious nostalgia, the LP has held up in the ensuing years―especially when compared to the plastic EDM peddled now.
Parade (Warner Brothers, 1986): Coming off of Around the World in a Day (1985)―Prince at his most pop―the Minneapolis titan managed to rope back in his black base without sacrificing his roving (genre) eye. This album was free, sexy and practical too. He kept churning out some serious master jams, but this LP remains at the summit of Prince’s output.
[Editor’s Note: Please visit your local record store or online retailer for information on availability.-QH]
Janet Jackson (21) / Diana Ross (22) / Gloria Estefan (23) / Solange (24) / Paula Abdul (25)
20 Y.O. (Virgin, 2006): Control (1986) or Damita Jo (2004) easily could have made this list. But 20 Y.O.’s veteran precision was just too strong to ignore. It was a great vocal showcase in Jackson’s discography―it didn’t hurt that the first half of the album was black dance music done to the nines. Despite its silly title, this was adult R&B with a pinch of youthful spirit.
The Boss (Motown, 1979): Dress rehearsal for diana (1980)? I think not. Ross’ second-to-last Motown album had her slip into disco with soul. Jams like “It’s My House” and hushed valentines like “I’m in the World” bore Ross’ interpretive streak like no one’s business.
Alma Caribeña (Epic, 2000): The album that opened me up to non-English music. Recalled certain critics observing that Estefan’s voice supposedly shone better in her native tongue. I enjoyed Estefan in-and-out of English myself. However, there is some truth to their statement as the liveliness present on Alma Caribeña poured from every note played and sung.
Sol-Angel & the Hadley Street Dreams (Geffen, 2008): Who would have thought that Solange could pull this rabbit out of popular music’s hat when she did? Her fix on a vintage / modern vocal attack kept my ears glued to this in the late summer of 2008.
Head Over Heels(Virgin, 1995): The musicianship for this? Grade A, top shelf and every other adjective you can plug in. Even if on you don’t like Abdul’s voice―which was exceptionally versatile on Heads Over Heels―the arrangements on the LP were so intelligent. You had jazz, you had hip-hop, you had funk all wrapped together. You just don’t hear that kind of diversity on pop albums anymore.
Hall & Oates (26) / Phyllis Hyman (27) / Randy Crawford (28) / Jamiroquai (29) / Michael Jackson (30)
X-Static(RCA, 1979): X-Static. The frenzied send-off to Hall & Oates’ patchwork 1970’s era before their 1980’s dominance. That isn’t a knock, Hall & Oates jumped around to every conceivable sound on their initial albums. I adore genre jumping, it’s so pop. Anyway, X-Static was funky and playful―definitely a record for those that like a myriad of music.
Somewhere in My Lifetime (Arista, 1979): God, this woman’s voice. It’s phenomenal. She has many different phases in her discography, but her “bright period” was exceptional on Somewhere in My Lifetime. The right amount of jazz and disco on this offering was a welcome backdrop for a Saturday afternoon.
Everything Must Change (Warner Brothers, 1976): Crawford’s voice possessed kick, but she never fell into gratuitous singing. She complemented the crisp production at play throughout this piece with patience. Everything Must Change made no (sales) ripples, but was a true hidden treasure when I found it.
A Funk Odyssey (Sony, 2001): In light of the “disco revival” that has been raging over the last three years, many forgot that Jamiroquai spearheaded it as far back as 1996. I think they hit their stride with it on A Funk Odyssey. Though their acid jazz had disco at its roots, this was full blown floor killing music.
Off the Wall (Epic, 1979): The greatest black dance album ever? For once I can actually agree with the masses on this score. Michael Jackson kept making great music post-Off the Wall, but the joyousness evinced on this LP wasn’t present in his later output.
P.M. Dawn (31) / Ace of Base (32) / Emma Bunton (33) / Swing Out Sister (34) / George Michael (35)
The Bliss Album…?(Island, 1993): My Dad played this album a lot in the car when I was kid; it would be years before I realized how ahead of the curve P.M. Dawn was with The Bliss Album…?. Truly a black alternative brainchild, it pains me how this act has been relegated to 1990’s nostalgia. This record, along with their other three LPs, are the best alt-soul spinners you’ll hear.
The Bridge (Arista, 1995): Much stronger and wider in its scope than what Ace of Base hinted at with The Sign (1994). When people ask me what my favorite “follow-up” album of all time is, I answer with The Bridge. The world music textures on this transported me to places unseen, their goal I assume. Though I think they improved even more with Flowers / Cruel Summer (1998) and Da Capo (2002), the magic and mystery of The Bridge lives.
Free Me(Universal, 2004): I knew when this record dropped it was going to change the game―for British pop and the overall Spice Girls legacy. Bunton was not the only Brit to dip into the mod-pop pot, but she wore it well. Beautifully sung and produced, Bunton’s second album reset what a former Spice Girl could do artistically (and commercially).
Filth and Dreams (Mercury, 1999): Mentioning 1960’s pop revivalists, Swing Out Sister arguably stamped that movement. What I liked about Filth & Dreams was its modernity mixed with retro pop appeal. While Swing Out Sister were no strangers to melancholy, they courted a solemn air on this project. Personally, I thought the gravitas was pretty.
Older (DreamWorks, 1996): Though Michael wouldn’t come out for another two years, Older played close to the confessional hilt. Michael adjusted the temporal frequency for Older to add hip-hop textures on “Fastlove” and “Spinning the Wheel,” which suited Michael well like his previous black music forays.
Will Young (36) / Duran Duran (37) / The Supremes (38) / Hikaru Utada (39) /Joni Mitchell (40)
Echoes (RCA, 2011): For my money, Will Young was the real deal when it came to reality show produced talent. The first winner of ‘Pop Idol’ in England, Young took quick creative control of his music. His fifth album caught my attention and I went back to discover his other stuff. But, Young’s understated blend of blue-eyed soul and pop with Echoes made my ears very happy in late 2011.
Notorious (EMI, 1986): Starting with this funky entry, Duran Duran became a group based in the sound of the period―even if it was not what critics or fans wanted. Slimming down to a trio didn’t halve Duran Duran’s abilities, not to my ears. If anything the division gave them clarity to dress up and get down.
Touch (Motown, 1971): The 1970’s were very kind to The Supremes from an artistic stance. As the album format dawned at the start of that decade, The Supremes shifted away from the singles approach and became a “back-to-front” recording act. Touch was was an ideal play for a rainy day or a bright morning.
Heart Station (EMI, 2008): The clean production lines on this album were fantastic, and there was a reason why. The LP had taken and applied everything Utada learned from 2002 through to 2006; that stretch of time contained her bravest music recorded. As a result, Heart Station was aware of its structure, but not impeded by it. Utada’s lyrics and vocals synced up and painted a picture of a woman that was in complete control of her artistic expression.
Hejira (Asylum, 1976): Mitchell’s guitar took on many different shapes on Hejira. I’d never known the guitar to possess that kind of versatility displayed―most of the instrumentation was centered on it during the LP’s run time. It was an album that put the listener on a journey through Mitchell’s aural soundscapes of love and life.
[Editor’s Note: Please visit your local record store or online retailer for information on availability.-QH]
Q-Tip (41) / The Cardigans (42) / The B-52’s (43) / Adriana Evans (44) / Natalie Imbruglia (45)
The Renaissance (Universal, 2008): It was such an agile record at the time of its release; buoyed by a spirit of playfulness with just a dollop of social consciousness―Q-Tip mesmerized me in 2008. This album was the last hip-hop album that I personally felt was an event when it debuted to public consumption.
Long Gone Before Daylight (Stockholm, 2003): Next to No Doubt, The Cardigans were the most versatile alternative pop outfit hustling in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s. Like most Americans I had been won over with “Lovefool”. Many years later, when I was in a very unhealthy relationship, I turned to this album for solace. The blend of the wounded lyrics and the country / folk music tones were a salve.
Mesopotamia (Warner Brothers, 1982): An EP from their post-Wild Planet (1980) period and pre-Bouncing Off the Satellites (1986) LP―its playing (and sonic) expanse gave it the feel of an album. Mesopotamia had The B-52’s get a little more linear, but much to my joy they stayed wacky as ever.
Walking with the Night (Expansion, 2010): “Remember the Love” danced through my television speakers as the theme to ‘Noah’s Arc’ 10 years ago and I was hooked. Evans straddled jazz, hip-hop and sweetfaced R&B like no other singer I’d experienced. When I came across this LP, it deepened my affection toward the singer’s penchant for modern soul with a classic rinse.
White Lilies Island (RCA, 2001): Like a lot of people in the late 1990’s, I knew Imbruglia from her debut Left of the Middle (1998). White Lilies Island contained more of Imbruglia’s spirit and it translated in the performances contained on the long player―if someone was stuck on “Torn,” the album surpassed that right away with “Wrong Impression”.
Geri Halliwell (46) / Blondie (47) / Joan Armatrading (48) / Chaka Khan (49) / Kelis (50)
Scream If You Wanna Go Faster (EMI, 2001): Splashy, sensitive and smart―no one really made pop the way Geri Halliwell did. That juggling act between frivolity and reflection led me to keep Scream If You Wanna Go Faster close. As the years have gone on, especially in light of how far pop continued to fall, its abilities haven’t dated.
The Curse of Blondie (Epic, 2003): This was the very first Blondie LP I ever bought. Its lead single “Good Boys” piqued my curiosity with the punkers. Needless to the say, the record delivered the goods and though they had others winners in their discography, Curse remained my favorite.
Me Myself I (A&M, 1981): Getting into Joan Armatrading was a real pleasure. Much like another act featured on this list (Hall & Oates), you could divide Armatrading’s catalogue into (almost) two distinct sides. The folky, jazz-lite ’70’s stuff and the power pop, reggae inflected ’80’s material. Me Myself I was the pivot point between the two periods and is required listening for anyone curious about her.
Chaka Khan(Warner Brothers, 1982): For a bit, this record was unattainable due to being out of print and costly. Once I was able to finally snag an affordable copy―I think I paid $40 for it in 2010―the purchase was more than worth it. Khan had a sleekness to her R&B that managed to be forward thinking, but approachable. “Bebop Medley” changed my life, no lie!
Food (Ninja Tune, 2014): Always loved Kelis, but nothing prepared me for what she had up her sleeve last year with Food. Despite being preceded by the thoroughly impressive Flesh Tone (2010), that Kelis could revamp the R&B she began with so naturally with a lyrical poise…just extraordinary.
Digable Planets (51) / Teena Marie (52) / A Tribe Called Quest (53) / Alanis Morissette (54) / Lisa Loeb (55)
Blowout Comb (Pendulum, 1994): If you like music, you will like this album. A combination of sampled and live instrumentation, fantastic flows and a subtle theme really made the Digable Planets second (and sadly) final album hit a home run.
Emerald City (Epic, 1986): The dark sensuality of Emerald City moved me 10 years ago. Critics and fans alike wrote the long player off unfairly in 1986; Teena’s only mistake was the music was a year out of fashion when the record debuted. Outside of that, she was at her mightiest.
The Love Movement (Jive, 1998): Tribe never crafted a dud out of the five studio albums they recorded between 1990 through 1998. Sadly, The Love Movement received the brunt of criticism for their cooler technological advancement that started with its predecessor, Beats, Rhymes & Life (1996). I enjoyed how ahead of the curve Tribe sounded.
Under Rug Swept (Maverick, 2002): Morissette went from strength to strength post-Jagged Little Pill (1995)―mind you, one must be an objective Alanis fan to see that. Under Rug Swept sported a “less is more” approach than the record before it, so in my mind I heard Morissette in peak form as a result of her restraint. Probably only matched by Flavors of Entanglement (2008).
Firecracker (Geffen, 1997): “I Do,” my favorite Lisa radio jam, was only one of many joints on Firecracker. As an album, Loeb’s second effort expounded on her initial vibe with a few frills. I thought the fusion fizz of “Dance with the Angels” was a surprise tucked away on the album unexpectedly.
Texas (56) / Kimbra (57) / Katie Melua (58) / Linda Ronstadt (59) / Wendy & Lisa (60)
The Hush (Mercury, 1999): One of my favorite blue-eyed soul albums. The Hush cemented Texas’ transformative sound and presented their lead vocalist Sharleen Spiteri sublimely.
Vows (Warner Brothers, 2012): Pop had me down for so long that Kimbra seemed like a mirage when a good friend introduced us. Kimbra’s music was smart without affectation and soulful. Just a slice of her aural fantasia in the opener “Settle Down” did not prepare me for the rest of Vows and its muse.
The House (Dramatico, 2010): The House was a great compromise that pushed established Katie Melua-isms into new spaces. “The Flood” ranked as one of the and sadly overlooked singles of this decade; yet, that song only skimmed the surface of the remainder of the LP’s contents.
Mad Love (Asylum, 1980): Linda Ronstadt aligned herself with the various AOR formats of the 1970’s, but eschewed trends that sullied other contemporaries. I had the jones for Mad Love because Ronstadt acclimatized perfectly with new wave―a sneak move considering her aforementioned habits. But damn it man if she didn’t put it to work for her!
Wendy & Lisa (Columbia, 1987): These women weren’t eye candy, they were musicians who influenced Prince’s most fertile era from 1982 through 1986. When they struck out alone, they fell right into their own thing. The coolness of Wendy & Lisa was unstudied, but articulated. Plus I mean, how many people could name a song “Honeymoon Express” and have the song live up to its title?
[Editor’s Note: Please visit your local record store or online retailer for information on availability.-QH]
Ice Cream Everyday(Blisslife, 2013): When you hear the word intimacy, you don’t think of it as something beyond soft or restrained. Amel Larrieux’s music was always intimate, yet could be groovy, downtempo and anything else imagined. Ice Cream Everyday embodied that stated sentiment―a record that revealed something new anytime I came back to it.
Tropico (Chrysalis, 1984): Reinvention was a great look on Pat Benatar. The rockier bits she was known for previously were fine, but hearing Benatar on “Diamond Field,” “Painted Desert” and “Love in the Ice Age” made me ecstatic! Her versatility flexed its muscles to show she wasn’t just a spandex clad wet dream.
Infinity Within (Elektra, 1992): That Deee-Lite were dismissed as one-hit wonder fluff made no sense; their second record is where the groove really got it in for me. The way Deee-Lite lined Infinity Within with vintage funk and contemporary dance scored major points. Not to mention the album was socially conscious and deflated the oft cited balloon that pop couldn’t pack a message.
Statues (Echo, 2003): Moloko threw me for a loop when I started getting into them. Their first two records were acerbic and crazy, not too many cuts had replay value outside of a handful. Their third album, Things to Make and Do (2000), bore a maturity that took root on their fourth (and last) LP, Statues. The album split itself between heartbreak and hedonism, but with Moloko that wasn’t surprising.
Scoundrel Days (Warner Brothers, 1986): “Take On Me” was a great song, but arguably an anomaly for these gentlemen whose work was often introspective. Scoundrel Days extended on a-ha’s synth-pop styling, but the songwriting kept me rapt with attention. “Manhattan Skyline’s” draconian atmosphere was a slice of what to expect on Scoundrel Days for the uninitiated.
Carole King (66) / Amerie (67) / Lisa Stansfield (68) / No Doubt (69) / Common (70)
Fantasy (Ode, 1973): Tapestry (1971) clouded the view for a lot of great records from Ms. King. Fantasy, a lush song cycle, was one such recording. I loved it at first spin. The segue between “You Light Up My Life” and “Corazon” drove me bananas (in a good way).
Because I Love It (Columbia, 2007): To go from being a producer’s palette to her own woman, Amerie had the goods. Her cerebral R&B was lovably fussy on Because I Love It. I copped the album as an import at the time, so it was pretty cool to have had this when so many people were unaware she had a junior long player forthcoming in the U.S.
So Natural (Arista, 1993): The logical successor to Real Love (1991), Stansfield’s overlapping of soul and pop was unrivaled. Without hesitation, I maintain that So Natural was the “ballads beast” of her output; she put down some sultry, and sensitive, songs. It wasn’t all downtempo though― “Little Bit of Heaven,” a lost U.K. single from the LP, got the most play from me back when I bought So Natural.
Return of Saturn (Interscope, 2000): Reading about this album now, it’s unfathomable that it was a commercial misfire. Then again, No Doubt was always in the shadow of Tragic Kingdom (1996). That said, the band made an album that clutched the feelings encapsulated by that weird junction in the lives of all young adults.
Electric Circus (MCA, 2002): When I stumbled across Electric Circus, it blew me out of the water. It was hip-hop, but at the same time it took to task what hip-hop was supposed to sound like. The instrumental vignettes between the actual tracks were appetizing too.
The Magic Garden (Soul City, 1967): What endeared me to music from this time was its evocative nature―but that it wasn’t consciously trying. Artists were not afraid to feel and relate that to the album format (slowly burgeoning at this point). The 5th Dimension went on to do more commercially accesible stuff, but The Magic Garden was effusive.
Energy (Planet, 1978): From slapper-era jazz to (then) modern funk music, the Pointer Sisters were studied in diversity before they even got to Energy. They furthered that axiom with this, an album of rock-and-roll covers that possessed enough R&B to maintain that audience. Astonishing.
the id (Epic, 2001): The wilder pace hopping on this bad boy was so much fun! Gray’s albums were engaging affairs; her idiosyncrasies on the id made it difficult not to love the record, sort of like that wild aunt / relative we all know. Gray left some room for quieter moments too.
Nine Objects of Desire (A&M, 1996): Vega as an artist was (and is) voracious; her musical appetites never knew any border. When I heard Nine Objects of Desire, I was taken aback with how jazzy it was, but the slinkiness suited her. Vega’s canvas on the long player had breadth, so it was not a monotonous album by any stretch.
A Little Spice (Virgin, 1984): Looking at its historical context, A Little Spice was pitched between post-disco and hip-hop. The record slotted neatly in between those extremes to produce an uptown / downtown sound that got both sides of the Atlantic moving.
Brenda Russell (76) / Eurythmics (77) / Björk (78) /Jennifer Lopez (79) / The Delfonics (80)
Brenda Russell(A&M, 1979): Russell was member of a group of women who connected jazz and R&B at a time when they were not adjoined. Russell’s earthiness and melodies combined splendidly on “You’re Free” and her inaugural (and superior) take of “If Only For One Night”. It was apparent that jazz and R&B were better together than apart thanks to Russell.
Savage (RCA, 1987): I remember reading about Savage and how people just didn’t get what the Eurythmics were doing with it. As the years passed after acquiring Savage, its neurotic behavior grew on me. Underneath their tech beat a human heart and that made the record relatable, even in its madder moments. Plus, “Beethoven (I Love to Listen To)” just rocked.
Homogenic(One Little Indian, 1997): Homogenic was a majestic statement of heartbreak colored in varying hues of anger, resentment and self-examination. I didn’t “get it” when it hit my ears at 15, it wasn’t until I was 22 and had experienced more personally. Arriving back to the stormy album in lieu of that, of course it clicked.
Brave(Epic, 2007): What’s not to love about Brave? Jennifer Lopez was in great voice throughout the album’s run time; the production was muscular without overpowering her too, something she had struggled with in the past. It was good pop music in a time when pop was becoming increasingly rare to find.
La-La Means I Love You (Philly Groove, 1968): My Dad’s music is what I’ve affectionately termed this kind of soul. It’s Philly, it’s creamy, it’s romantic, it’s heartbreaking. The trio’s vocalizing was crisp, nothing out of line or messy.
[Editor’s Note: Please visit your local record store or online retailer for information on availability.-QH]
Vitamin C (81) / Sade (82) / De La Soul (83) / Grace Jones (84) / Nikki Jean (85)
Vitamin C (Elektra, 1999): Vitamin C was one of the pop records that shaped my view of intelligent pop. An example was “Girls Against Boys”―a deeper cut on the LP―it mixed French spy pop and hip-hop, no lie. It’s amazing to think that Colleen Fitzpatrick, the woman behind Vitamin C, has gone into the corporate sector of the entertainment industry.
Stronger Than Pride (Epic, 1988): The dreaded “they used drum machines, how could they?!” album. Never understood what the big deal was. The group simply added another layer to their already progressive sound. The songwriting and arrangements were livelier and not turgid as they had been on Promise (1985)―my least favorite record by Sade.
The Grind Date (AOI, 2004): Not too dissimilar from the other hip-hop records (quality wise) accounted for on my list, this LP bursted with tunage too. Literally, the debut side of The Grind Date jumped at me through my speakers. Also, not that I have anything against longer albums, but this one did not overstate itself. It was just enough.
Fame (Island, 1978): Ah, Grace Jones and disco―people either loved it or hated it. Fame took the gold with its well-thought out seguing and a capable Jones at the vocal wheel. Fame captured this abbreviated span (by critics, fans) and acted as a good entry for anyone curious about a pre-Nightclubbing (1980) Grace Jones.
Pennies in a Jar (S-Curve, 2011): I kept seeing these online ads for Nikki Jean back in 2011; each one played up what she had in common with all of these different artists. Later, I realized Nikki Jean had taken up the task to write with the artists they mentioned in the advertisements―Carly Simon, Burt Bacharach, etc. I was hesitant to label the album as “throwback” then, though Jean’s affection for classic pop was obvious. Interestingly, the LP held a modern vitality that made it relevant to listeners in 2011 and beyond. And that voice…!
Tina Turner (86) / The Apples in Stereo (87) / Chic (88) / Kinky (89) / Chanté Moore (90)
Wildest Dreams (Parlophone, 1996): Tina Turner got boring after Private Dancer (1984). With Wildest Dreams, Turner was involved in song selection and its presentation, it showed. Cut at a time when adult pop was seen as sexy and youthful (ironically), Wildest Dreams was Turner giving face on the wax.
Travellers in Space and Time (Elephant 6, 2010): Though The Apples in Stereo had been around as early as 1992, they gradually came up out of the indie-pop scene to establish their in foothold in music . This record saw them decked out in white boy disco threads, as such it got serious spin time in my car during 2011 and 2012.
Take It Off(Atlantic, 1981): Chic founder Nile Rodgers pretended (and still does) that Chic post-Real People (1980) just stopped. Chic pushed back against the disco backlash with three more records between 1981 and 1983. Yes, they were commercial failures, but musically the quintet had not lost their touch. Everything great about the group’s tailoring, production wise, remained but with an ’80’s R&B twist.
Atlas (Sonic 360, 2003): Half asleep one night in 2013, I woke up to this band playing on ‘Guitar Sessions’ named Kinky. Thought the name was sexy. I got up, jotted it down and went back to sleep. Several months later, I had been overcome by this Mexican five-piece band. Atlas, more than any of their other (epic) LPs, brandished Kinky’s electro-rock, dance and Latin feel.
A Love Supreme (MCA, 1994): Sadly, Ms. Moore has recently become known for reality tv spats; once upon a time she released an unsung R&B long player in need of exposure. A Love Supreme managed an―I hate this term―old school appeal, but was new school in how it positioned itself (sonically). To say Moore was in good voice is an understatement to her gift.
The Human League (91) / Nelly Furtado (92) / Bangles (93) / Kajagoogoo (94) / Mariah Carey (95)
Octopus(EastWest, 1995): Their legacy was storied by the time they reached Octopus, but the trio that came to define The Human League turned in a sharp offering here. What made me admire Octopus was its peerless production. The kind of music they were making may not have been “in,” but it was fresh. When their sound did come back “in,” the album evinced how late the rest of popular music was to The Human League’s party.
Folklore(DreamWorks, 2003): Built on the feel of Whoa, Nelly! (2000), the arc of Folklore was broader, bigger and better. But, with words like “Paint my face in your magazines, make it look whiter than it seems! Paint me over with your dreams, shove away my ethnicity!” heard on the lead single “Powerless (Say What You Want)” the LP wasn’t destined for a charmed sales life.
All Over the Place (Columbia, 1984): My favorite harmony group, hands down. Their love of the Beatles was apparent, but they brought their own California sass to the proceedings. A lot of folks go on about how “unpolished” this record was over their second LP Different Light (1986). I think that Different Light may have been a bit more eager to please, but All Over the Place possessed mighty pop hooks too.
Islands(EMI, 1984): Nothing gets me going in music more than a group that could defy expectations. Though Kajagoogoo’s tale as a one-hit wonder was set in stone, their second LP Islands refuted that. Jazz and new wave intertwined on the LP and would have made contemporaries like Culture Club a bit envious.
Butterfly (Columbia, 1997): Mariah Carey was like chemistry, too much of one ingredient could spoil the overall taste of the dish. Butterfly got the formula right: hip-hop, grown-up soul, pop melodies. All of it joined by Carey’s voice and her imaginative pen. She came close to orbiting this album at least twice, but it’s doubtful it will be eclipsed.
k.d. lang (96) / V V Brown (97) / Kate Bush (98) / Céline Dion (99) / Beyoncé (100)
Shadowland (Warner Brothers, 1988): Country and pop were genres lang weaved throughout her three decade career seamlessly. Shadowland leaned closer to the former. Like any of lang’s country albums, its torchy root is what stayed with me. As a singer, lang’s chops could never be questioned and made the spread available on Shadowland bountiful.
Traveling Like the Light (Capitol, 2010): Getting dressed for work one day and I heard this guitar lick that was like sunshine coming from my tv. I bounded out of the bathroom to catch Ms. Brown do her thing on “Shark in the Water,” a single from Travelling Like the Light. Clear, beautiful pop. In 2010. By a black woman. Black pop singers, like in the non-R&B influenced style, weren’t (and aren’t) common; it was love at first listen. Her subsequent album lived up to the single’s promise too.
Lionheart(EMI, 1978): Her initial pair of albums were my staples. Her singing worked wonders over that airy, late ’70’s pop aesthetic. I knew that Lionheart was considered the rush job of the two records by the majority, including Bush. For me, it was an ideal companion to The Kick Inside (1978).
1 Fille & 4 Types (Epic, 2003): Ms. Dion’s French material stayed on the excellent tip; 1 Fille & 4 Types concerned itself with mannered music, usually acoustic based. Dion, in a calmer space, allowed herself to emote gradually and authentically. If there was a spike of bombast, it was welcome as a natural progression.
4 (Columbia, 2011): Never in a million years would I have pegged myself as a fan of Mrs. Carter. But, thanks to 4 and its (actual) craft, Beyoncé cured the cynicism that kept her at bay from my ears for close to an entire decade. The culprit that got me to pay attention to 4 was its spunky single “Countdown”―arguably my favorite song by Mrs. Carter.
[Editor’s Note: Please visit your local record store or online retailer for information on availability.-QH]
Imagine, a shy black boy, 14 or 15, with a musical itch he can’t scratch. An outlet for that inclination eludes him, but he searches for something to mirror his interests. He stumbles across a Rolling Stone article― “500 Greatest Albums of All Time”―where maybe a fraction of the artists he enjoys lines the lower half of the list. Where was his sonic story?
Years later, after ascending the professional writing ladder (with many more rungs waiting), I’m older and wiser. Yet, my curiosity and passion for music stands strong, that restlessness fueling every piece I’ve ever written. I turned 30 last month and with close to a decade logged as a writer / historian / commentator on popular music, I’ve decided to humor myself. Compiling 100 albums that shaped my musical self was a task that was both enjoyable and difficult. Often I wanted to just say forget it―thankfully, I didn’t do that. Would I be seen as self-serving? Maybe. Or, I’ve put in the work as a writer to finally answer (justify) a question that has been frequently asked by peers and readers? Possibly.
The records have been ranked and split into five sections: 1 thru 20, 21 thru 40, 41 thru 60, 61 thru 80 and 81 thru 100. The project kicks off on 4/13/15, each segment will appear in reverse order.
For those that asked me, here is the music that has driven (and drives) me to write, listen and live for the music. Enjoy.
[Editor’s Note: Album map courtesy of Travis Müller.-QH]
Björk has arrived at her eighth album and like each record before it, this one is its own event. Vulnicura was touted as “a return to form” before its February leak ruptured Björk’s March roll-out.
The Icelandic songstress took the blow in stride, making Vulnicura digitally available to audiences a month before its physical release. Very recent career retrospectives in print and at New York’s Museum of Modern Art also dressed the stage for Vulnicura to be born to high expectations. Were the whispers warranted? Had Björk come home to the sound arc that birthed classics such as Post (1995), Homogenic (1997) and Vespertine (2001)?
Vulnicura’s personal ruminations orbit her recent separation from artist and former partner Matthew Barney. That life event colors Vulnicura thematically, though the actual song prints themselves aren’t dissimilar from what Björk has touched on in the past. It’s true that of the four LPs left in Vespertine’s wake, Vulnicura’s glacial strings and melodies eye the elegance synonymous with the mentioned Vespertine and Homogenic albums.
Further, dissonant electronics are still at Björk’s disposal. They jut from the songs’ shores where Björk’s semi-tamed singing crashes against their craggy surfaces. They (the songs) should be cold, but somehow the arrangements retain warmth and fullness.
Said fullness is somewhat owed to the fact that the average run time of a track on Vulnicura is anywhere from six-to-eight minutes. It’s almost a novelty that only two songs (“History of Touches” and “Quicksand”) hit three minutes. The breathing room the songs have―with “Black Lake” ballooning to the 10 minute mark―can be misread as indulgent.
Vulnicura will require multiple spins to reveal its layers. In that regard, Björk has become the mistress of the realm of the album. She knows exactly how to make music that will gain traction as it accrues age; it’s a problematic truth for fans missing the immediacy of her first two LPs.
“Lionsong”
Directed by: Inez and Vinoodh
Lyrically, Björk is a woman wounded, but brave enough to heal on the new long player―the album’s title means “to cure wounds”. Yet, to come to that resolution, Björk has to question herself and her former lover. Had the fuel for for their attraction become an accelerant for eventual heartbreak? On “Black Lake” she muses: “You fear my limitless emotions, I am bored of your apocalyptic obsessions. Did I love you too much? Devotion bent me broken, so I rebelled, I destroyed the icon”. This is music by an adult in an age where it’s shameful to be an established act embracing that notion―Björk dives into it headfirst.
Vulnicura scales back on concept, something that sank her previous efforts in the last decade, and wanders adulthood pathos. This part of the human experience has its own adventures (and perils) that make for fantastic listening. Björk never sounded better. Ranking: Semi-classic
[Editor’s Note: Vulnicura is available digitally and physically. For current information on Björk, visit her official website.-QH]
“It was very conscious with Scarlet’s Walk and The Beekeeper that I wanted to embody the Mother Maiden and core essences within the being―because I find a lot of women, especially in this time of the right wing, don’t know how to be spiritual and sexual.
Either they’re puritanical, or their tits are hanging out all the time―that’s been a real bee in my bonnet, the program that [tells women] to be sexual. To counter that, you have to be nasty. I grenade that idea right out of the water! One side of yourself might be that vulgar tart, and I’ll hang out with her. I don’t mind a dirty girl. But what I find tragic is when we, as women, become not the subject of our own story, but someone else’s object.
That, to me, is playing into this role that women have held in Christianity for a long, long time. I refuse to be victimized by Christianity’s misrepresentation of our great mothers. I want to be an integrated woman”.
Pulled from a 2006 Rolling Stone interview, Amos’ quote summarized a brief, albeit exciting chapter in her discography. Known for making the piano as intense a rock-and-roll instrument as the guitar, Amos’ approach had made her one of the leading talents in popular music. However, Amos was not going to retain her position as a risk-taker confined to the genre grip of alternative music expectations―from fans or critics.
The Beekeeper (Epic, 2005)―Amos’ eighth record―was received as a concession, or surrender, for broader pop acceptance. Was Amos, a newly minted wife and mother at this point, unable to maintain the fire that sparked her 1990s releases?
Mothers and wives can’t be rock-and-rollers; they surely that can’t be sex symbols! Though many female performers, genres aside, had shown this as false, the thought didn’t die. It went to the root of Amos’ argument of how women were (and are) viewed in society, subject to the heavy gaze of male scrutiny.
As ever, Amos readied herself to challenge that thinking with TheBeekeeper. The cerebral, sexy sides it offered, like a foreign fruit, met apprehension. Those that indulged tasted Amos at her richest peak of flavor.
The History
Amos had reached her (first) creative apogee with From the Choirgirl Hotel (Atlantic, 1998). That combustible mingling of her piano pop and electronica had been a coup. Unfortunately, label politics began suffocating Amos and she wandered through the end of her contractual obligations to Atlantic Records with To Venus and Back (1999) and Strange Little Girls (2001). Released from that career abyss, Amos ventured to greener pastures at Epic Records.
Tori Amos, circa 2005
Though the label later turned into another trap for Amos, she initiated her tenure there smoothly. Scarlet’s Walk (2002) immediately followed her signing to Epic and ushered in the second Tori Amos renaissance.
Akin to the ambitious sprawl of predecessor Joni Mitchell’s mid-70s recordings, Scarlet’s Walk was a rebirth. The experimentation with jazz music was unmistakable; songs such as “A Sorta Fairytale,” “Don’t Make Me Come to Vegas” and “Your Cloud” bore a light grooviness.
Amos calmly tuned Scarlet’s follow-up out of its autumn chamber pop and into something equatorial―and continually rhythmic.
The Record
Theme continued to be the nexus of Amos’ recordings. The Beekeeper tackled the systemic condition of gender role identification of women through the patriarchal eyes of Christianity. It was the religious―and subsequently cultural―ideathat women were only allowed to inhabit two spaces: “the mother” or “the whore”. In her own words, Amos sought to “marry the Mary’s” that influenced women throughout history―Mary, Mother of Jesus, and Mary Magdalene.
Additional analysis included Amos grouping the songs in various “gardens” according to lyrics; parallels also fell between that and the relationship of the bee, its hive and their beekeeper.
Despite Amos’ labyrinthine narrative, the songwriting of the LP was acute. Romance, betrayal, mortality and how women experienced these things and were empowered by them took precedence. Amos had crafted another record similar in shape to Scarlet’s Walk that forsook the overly cryptic approach common in her lyrics post-Boys for Pele (Atlantic, 1996).
While Amos was married and mothering her (then) young daughter, she still had much to say. America at the dawn of the 2000s was just trekking into the Iraq War; the conservatism that held the country in its sway was pervasive too.
“Sweet the Sting” single cover
With a quiet, insurrectionary stance, the pianist / vocalist addressed the political climate with “Barons of Surburbia,” “General Joy” and “Mother Revolution”.
The subject matter of the mentioned trio of songs couldn’t obscure their musical sexiness; part of that was owed to the contributions of Matt Chamberlain (drums) and Jon Evans (bass). Both men had played with Amos on her albums and tours for a few years. The three artists laid down her curviest tunes with “Sweet the Sting,” “Witness” and “Hoochie Woman”―all those works had background vocals courtesy of the London Gospel Community Choir.
Amos known for keeping her lyrical eye on others turned it on herself to furnish revealatory material. Whether recalling the passing her of brother (“Toast”), her maternal joy (“Ribbons Undone”) or passing the torch from mother to daughter (“The Beekeeper”), Amos unguarded mesmerized.
Her pen remained sharp even when the topics were soft. Love and trust were eloquently framed on the album opener “Parasol”―a career highlight―“Jamaica Inn” and “Sleeps With Butterflies”. The latter song could be called a “general love song,” but was artfully arranged with harmonies that gave it a “Tori twist”.
Amos’ sense of humor, often not seen enough in her music, grinned through on songs like “The Power of Orange Knickers” (with Damien Rice) and “Ireland”. They made for a refreshing listening journey.
The album clocked in at 19 tracks; length became sort of a sonic stumbling block for Amos by now. Interestingly, The Beekeeper would be the second album, after To Venus and Back, to not have b-sides readily available. But, three bonus cuts from The Beekeeper sessions did emerge: “Garlands” (on the limited DVD edition of the LP), “Dolphin Song” and “Not David Bowie” (on Piano: A Collection / Rhino, 2006).
Bright in its playful exploration of pop and jazz, The Beekeeper was friendlier than Scarlet’s Walk. As a producer, Tori Amos should have been proud of the record’s amity, even if it would be misconstrued.
The Impact
“Sleeps With Butterflies” was the first selection to introduce Amos’ new album to the public. The song was issued as a “promotional single” and thusly not available to fans physically. “Sleeps With Butterflies” hit American airwaves on 1/10/05; digital availability to fans came on 1/12/05.
The single found favor on the now defunct-U.S. Radios & Records AAA chart (#2); founded in 1973, the station/magazine allowed quirkier pop, alternative and rock music to reach audiences. It met its demise via absorption into VNU Media in 2006, a parent company of Billboard. Otherwise, “Sleeps With Butterflies,” Amos’ most commercially accessible single, created no ripples on any other major American or international chart.
Amos in the gardens of The Beekeeper
The Beekeeper released in the global markets on 2/21/05 with the United States following on 2/22/05.
The album debuted strong across the world: U.S. Billboard 200 #5, U.K. #24, Canada #16, Germany #8, Norway, #6, ARIA #8. Released in conjunction with the LP was Piece By Piece; the book was written by Amos and renowned writer / feminist, Ann Powers. In the book, Amos discussed her personal life, and career, leading up to The Beekeeper.
In its U.S. run overall, the album moved 295,000 copies; Amos’ sales had entered a slide and some saw The Beekeeper’s figures as impoverished after the chart restoration of Scarlet’s Walk.
The album and book met fair critical reception; Jon Pareles of The New York Times remarked favorably of the long player:
Ms. Amos will never be a conventional songwriter. She established herself in the 1990s with musically intricate but startlingly blunt songs about a young woman’s desires and traumas, gaining fans who have stayed with her as she moved from confession to character studies, from storytelling to abstraction. She still has a lot on her mind: lust, faith, motherhood, inconstancy, war, restlessness, death. And she has enough ambition to swirl them together in songs that spin dreamlike images and take musical detours at whim.
The Beekeeper is a generous, even overstuffed album, 19 songs and 79 minutes long, with an elaborate scheme involving six “gardens” of songs inspired by the six-sided cells of a honeycomb. (Ms. Amos has no fear of preciousness.) The lyrics are still collages of impressions, though usually with enough clues to piece them together. But The Beekeeper is also her most down-to-earth album in years, because Ms. Amos has decided she doesn’t have to pack every impulse into every song. Sometimes, now, a simple melody and a steady groove are enough.
However, not everyone was convinced of the pop sensitivity surrounding The Beekeeper. Mike Barthel of The Village Voice aligned his allegiance firmly with inaugural trilogy of Amos’ discography:
The Beekeeper is Tori-by-numbers, which isn’t necessarily bad—“Barons of Suburbia” whips the riff from “Precious Things” into the kind of ecstatic coda “Precious” itself builds to in concert. But mainly there’s either promising melodies (the “Crucify”-aping “Parasol”) ruined by cringe-y lyrics, or decent lyrical ideas executed like a Yoplait commercial. (“This is sooo good.” “Pirates good!” Cue bongos.)
If there’s a defining moment, it’s the coda of “Witness.” Backed by a gospel choir (!), you repeat the line “thought I had a witness,” but where it should be accusatory, the straight-from-the-Tori Amos-magnetic-poetry-set word boy dribbles from your mouth like half-chewed crumb cake over the lips of an Alzheimer’s patient. Also, one song has mandolins and bongos. Holy shit.
“Sleeps With Butterflies”
Directed By: Laurent Briet
Amos embarked on the corresponding live show for The Beekeeper, TheOriginal Sinsuality Tour, on 4/1/05 in Clearwater, Florida. The show traveled across the world to return to American shores (Los Angeles) on 9/17/05. While thrilling audiences on the road, two more promotional singles were lifted from The Beekeeper: “Sweet the Sting” and “Cars and Guitars”. The selections made minimal-to-no impact on any charts.
In the decade since its appearance, The Beekeeper stands divisive among fans and critics. The Beekeeper let Amos balance contentment with confrontation, looping back around to refute the original issue that women couldn’t occupy multiple spaces at once. Mothers and wives could rock, could roll, could love, be sexy and smart. Tori Amos had “married the Mary’s,” and then some.
Ranking: Semi-Classic
[Editor’s Note: The Beekeeper is readily in print, digitally and physically. For current information on Tori Amos, visit her official website.-QH]
Today, Texas released their newest singles collection Texas 25 in the United Kingdom―the American release follows tomorrow. The commemorative set will attempt to chart the trajectory of this Scottish band whose name and (initial) sound cues came from the 1984 film ‘Paris, Texas’. The movie was scored by American rocker Ry Cooder.
Texas’ line-ups have shifted through the years, but three mainstays have stood at Texas’ center: guitarists Johnny McElhone and Ally McErlaine; vocalist / guitarist Sharleen Spiteri.
Texas 25
Over McElhone/McErlaine’s works, Spiteri’s incomparable range called to mind Dusty Springfield or Chrissie Hynde. Spiteri, despite those influences, brought her own unmistakable presence to Texas, helping them to sell over 35 million records globally.
Across 25 years, Texas lived up to the spaciousness likened to their nom de guerre; sadly it seems that Texas 25 falls shorts of encapsulating their musical diversity. Following the same erroneous pattern their first best-of from 2000 began, Texas abbreviates their legacy again. Several key singles are missing throughout the new set and classics accounted for have been retouched. Though the eyebrow raising “deluxe edition” will feature the hits in their original forms.
Longtime fans and newcomers are denied a chance to experience one of the most versatile popular music vehicles as they evolved. An attempt to gauge the creative pulse of Texas’ eight studio albums through this retrospective will remedy the oversight made by the band themselves.
Southside
Southside (Mercury) / 1989
Singles: “I Don’t Want a Lover,” “Thrill Has Gone,” “Everyday Now,” “Prayer For You”
Synopsis: The debut album that caused a sensation in the United Kingdom upon its release, Southside captured a young Texas, but one far from underdeveloped. It was here that Spiteri’s voice soared over robust guitar and drumming structures that called to mind American rock music. Underneath that ambitious sound arc was a soulful underpinning that bubbled to the surface. Noticeably on “Faith” there was a lush lyrical interpolation of Al Green’s “Tired of Being Alone”. Texas later gave the R&B chestnut a loving cover on the U.S. pressing of their junior effort, Ricks Road (1993).
Even among the cavernous classic rock of “I Don’t Want a Lover,” Texas’ blue-eyed soul twinkled. However, that flower still had a ways to go before it would take root and bloom.
Singles: “Why Believe in You,” “In My Heart,” “Alone With You,” “Mothers Heaven”
Synopsis: Texas enjoying their roots rock was mistaken as laziness by some; Mothers Heaven was actually more progressive than Southside. A deeper listen demonstrated Texas’ pop instincts present in the more insistent melodies of “Dream Hotel” and the titular piece. The record buying public that embraced their brand two years preceding abandoned this recording inexplicably. As such, Texas has disavowed this recording. Output from this LP had been ignored for both their 2000 and 2015 retrospectives―an exception issued to their live effort, The BBC Sessions (2007) which contained some Mothers Heaven content. Texas’ sophomore project has kept a mysterious air.
If the listener has a preference for Texas during its earlier incarnation, Mothers Heaven is not to be ignored.
Singles: “So Called Friend,” “You Owe It All to Me,” “So In Love With You”
Synopsis: The final installment of the Texas traditional rock trilogy, Ricks Road dialed back on melody in favor of harder band instrumentation. It was an odd decision as Texas was in fantastic form already on their two previous efforts. Clearly the commercial cold of Mothers Heaven had shaken them―the chill only lifted slightly in Britain (their largest market) with Ricks Road. Texas did continue to gain traction on American college radio. Further U.S. exposure was gained when comedienne Ellen DeGeneres used “So Called Friend” as the theme song to her hit sitcom series ‘Ellen’ from its third season onward.
Texas had perfected their rock-and-roll and Ricks Road played like a closing chapter to an era in Texas’ discography. Coming from a place of affection rather than just imitation, Texas had proven their mettle as one of the better bands to emerge at the end of one decade and were ready to redefine their sound in a new one.
Singles: “Say What You Want,” “Halo,” “Black Eyed Boy,” “Put Your Arms Around Me,” “Insane”
Synopsis: Here was the album that turned it all around and made Sharleen Spiteri the glamorous face of Texas overnight. Spinning off four U.K. Top 10 hits and moving 3.6 million units in England alone, White on Blonde’s alternative rock and soul put Texas at the axis of contemporary music in the U.K. and Europe. Spiteri’s voice wore a sensually darker guise than before on entries like “Insane” and “Good Advice”―this was far from a bad thing. Dramatic string arrangements zinged, guitars added aural pepper when needed and strong songwriting made it sing out to listeners.
Texas had finally managed to be a commercial, creative and critical darlings simultaneously. White on Blonde also announced that Texas were pop auteurs and their next album made this posh hypothesis fact.
Singles: “In Our Lifetime,” “Summer Son,” “When We Are Together”
Synopsis: One of the finest blue-eyed soul records ever crafted, The Hush pitched itself between sweet and salty aesthetics. This kept fans and critics wondering how Texas pulled off their second sonic makeover? If there was any doubt with White on Blonde, The Hush’s material was an irrefutable shift from blues-rock to Motown. There was still a little sting present as heard on the bruising “Summer Son,” but Spiteri alternated from ripened falsetto (“Tell Me the Answer”) to expressive tones that showed her voice to be a bottomless well of hues (“Day After Day”).
Texas closed the 1990’s on a high with the triumph of The Hush. Though the group had begun to orbit the trio of McElhone / McErlaine / Spiteri, they retained only the best musicians.
Synopsis: Often cited as “that difficult punk-pop record,” Careful What You Wish For sought to keep the polish from Texas’ two past LPs―but with something a little edgier. Those that yearned for the open fields of Texas’ earlier albums need not press play here; they were in firm command of their pop changeability on this LP. The two-pronged opener “Telephone X” and “Broken” eyed an even sexier Texas than before; yet, as the album spun―despite its energy―Careful lacked compelling songs.
It didn’t help that in the interim between The Hush and Careful, the U.K. and European pop scenes had gone through many changes. Only two singles manifested, “Carnival Girl” became the minor hit. As far as transitional records went, Careful What You Wish For was exceptional.
Synopsis: If Careful What You Wish For was “too hard,” Red Book stood as a pretty pastel solvent to that record. The band sound had been considerably reduced, though Texas’ collaborative writing as a unit remained. After an odd preface meant to recall White on Blonde’s introduction “0.34,” “Getaway” acted as a paean to synth-pop as pioneered by Orchestral Manouevres in the Dark―think Junk Culture (1984) versus Dazzle Ships (1983). Elsewhere, Texas clumsily acclimatized to dance-pop (“Can’t Resist,” “Get Down Tonight”) with lackluster results.
The album was far from a disaster. If anything Red Book was another stylishly coiffed transitional offering, but the group had exhausted themselves. An eight year break ensued as the band pursued various paths. Spiteri recorded her inevitable solo debut Melody (Mercury, 2008) and its equally pleasing follow-up, The Movie Songbook (Mercury, 2010) in that interval.
Singles: “The Conversation,” “Detroit City,” “Dry Your Eyes”
Synopsis: After almost a decade away, Texas reformed and released their best record to date. The Conversation managed to tie The Hush by recharging their pop while gingerly peering back to the organic feel of their first three records. The album, a succinct package of tunes, did not overstay its welcome on the denim twist of the title song to the country-pop waltz of “If This Isn’t Real”. The band was present audibly throughout the course of The Conversation; Spiteri delivered the goods, her voice timeless as ever.
Sadly, The Conversation did not return Texas to the summit of the charts, but it did make a fair impact. More importantly, fans and critics resounded with praise for its rejuvenated spirit.
[Editor’s Note: All of Texas’ albums are in print digitally and physically; availability spans domestic and import releases. Texas 25 available now. For current information on Texas, visit their official website.-QH]
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