Darkness on the Edge of Town - Bruce Springsteen

It has been a while. Encouraged by our only fan and the fact I am home alone for the first time in three and a half years, I have poured a glass of red and put on the warm blanket that is Bruce Springsteen.

Three years in Amman and two kids later, B and I have left the blog dormant but not the music (or frankly, the drinking). There is a little more Elizabeth Mitchell and Play School than in the past, but plenty of new music - Chance the Rapper, Solange, Car Seat Headrest. Mostly there has been a lot of folk and bluegrass; in a moment of madness, B bought some Willie Watson bandanas at his Melbourne gig last week.

But let's get back to Bruce. I've decided that Darkness is Bruce's greatest album. I've quite possibly said the same thing about Nebraska and Born to Run. But Darkness is actually it.

The 1978 album continues the themes Bruce had so successfully portrayed on Born to Run. Young men (and sometimes, women) struggling against their circumstances, searching for belonging and wanting something more. It opens with Badlands. "Poor man wanna be rich. Rich man wanna be king. And a king ain't satisfied till he rules everything." This lyric is deliciously clever.

Adam Raised a Cain's desperate, repetitive chant always gets me. In the holy land, they too work with nothing to show but pain. Just like Springsteen's characters.

Seeing Bruce on his most recent Australian tour, today's politics was inescapable. Donald Trump is US President - the desperate characters on Darkness could very well be his constituency. The "men walk through these gates with death in their eyes, and you just better believe, boy, somebody's gonna get hurt tonight, it's just the working, just the working life". Trump sold these men from Factory a fanciful dream.

But while the lyrics are timeless, it's the music that keeps me in love. It's sweeping and majestic, but somehow restrained. Bruce and the E Street Band recorded together in flight, Darkness is perfect rock and roll.

Out of Our Heads - The Rolling Stones

Out of Our Heads, is the Stones' third album and our favourite of the early period. We're listening to an original pressing of the US version from 1965, which differs quite a lot from the track listing of the UK version. The remastered versions known today are almost unrecognisable. Our martinis were made with Smirnoff Black with a green lemon twist. Could we be any more pretentious?

The exuberance of this album is infectious. The Stones took rhythm and blues numbers from the US, sped them up and gave them an energy which is exhilarating. This is also the album when Jagger/Richards hit their songwriting straps, drawing on Richards' mastery of the blues. The derivative nature of their songs is obvious (the riff from The Last Time echoes the first track on the album, Mercy Mercy) but the songs are no less brilliant for it. Richards was learning the masters and then messing around, coming up with songs that were equal to or better than his inspirators.

I'm Alright was recorded live, with thousands of screaming girls and Mick hollering "it's alright" over and over again. It's a reminder that the Stones were not just rock and roll stars at this point, but super pop stars, their posters gracing teenage girls' walls. If they were around now, their twitter trending would have rivalled One Direction. (And if you're wondering where else you've heard the riff, it's the Beastie Boys 'Girls'. You're welcome).

While Satisfaction (check out Charlie's 'miming') is the stand out hit and still gets everyone on the dance floor (particularly at a Dowling family party); That's How Strong My Love Is is the heartbreaking winner on the album.

The whole album sounds like a bunch of lads flirting with a generation of young girls. Which it was. They were bad, they were suggestive, they were dissatisfied and bored, they were excited and they wanted to show you the time of your life. If we were teenage girls in the sixties we would have been smitten. Hell, we're in our thirties, five decades later and we're still infatuated.

Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea - PJ Harvey

We drew Bjork's Post out of the basket this evening and L was particularly looking forward to dancing around our apartment singing It's Oh So Quiet. So dear reader, does it still constitute a classic album if it doesn't make the cut in the CDs we bought from Australia to Jordan?

In the honour of truly awesome female singers, we chose PJ Harvey instead. Most of PJ Harvey's albums made the cut in the move and since its release in 2001, Songs from the City, Stories from the Sea has been a regular album for L and is now much loved by B (his misogyny towards women in rock is, piece by piece, disintegrating). We pour an Irish martini - vodka, dry vermouth and Jamieson with a twist of lemon. The power goes out for 15 minutes part way through the album and we settle in for a dinner of raw vegies before it is fortunately restored.

An album about her love of NYC, Stories... is a rock album of the best kind - strong, soaring vocals, raging guitars and quiet moments that still kick you in the guts. You can't listen to This Mess We're In with Thom Yorke, a wail of a song, without joining in with tears of your own.

The two opening tracks are among the strongest - Big Exit and Good Fortune are big, rough openers with simple but evocative lyrics. Although PJ is singing of NY, wondering among the tall buildings, hungover in Chinatown with a boy, I mostly think of Melbourne.

The simplicity of the guitar allows PJ's vocals to dominate the songs. Not only are the guitar parts mostly basic chords, playing almost entirely an accompanying role, the guitars sound like they're coming through an $80 amp. It is raw and beautifully grunge.

The Whores Hustle and The Hustlers Whore is the greatest title for song. PJ Harvey's vocals are particularly affecting. Again she soares high. The lyrics capturing the full gamut of the people that inhabit NY.

Co-produced with Rob Ellis (ever wonder why Anna Calvi sounds like PJ?) as well Mick Harvey, it has the Bad Seeds written all over it. PJ won the Mercury Music Prize for this album, strangely awarded on 11 September 2001. While PJ reflected at the time that music didn't seem so important that day, I think days like that make an album dedicated to NY even more important.

Thriller - Michael Jackson

Is there a more successful pop album than Thriller? Not only does every person in the world own this album, they all agree it is brilliant. It was recorded the year L was born and is still crisp and exciting.

Wanna Be Starting Something is electric. Pure disco pop energy. Manic guitar riffs, epileptic bass, a gospel choir and MJ at the peak of his talents. The cruel tragedy of the song is that all these elements make it impossible to dance not matter how much it incites you.

The Girl is Mine. Urgh. L hates it – it’s not just cheesy but creepy. B thinks it’s wonderful. Ownership of women is ok as long as you sing about it in high harmonies. 

What made this album ground-breaking in MJ's career is that every song is an epic. He'd already recorded perfect pop numbers with the Jackson 5 and on his 1979 album Off the Wall, but Thriller took his music it to another level. The songs were constructed layer upon layer upon layer in the studio and each has a narrative arc. The title track epitomizes this both in song and video. Much has been written about the video – it changed the music industry and pushed the then 25 year old Jackson over the edge into super-stardom which has rarely been matched. Aside from the beat and the dramatic synth riff, the most memorable thing about the song is how scary it is. I remember being petrified by the laugh that closes the song. We can't think of any other pop song that is genuinely terrifying for children (except, perhaps, for Katy Perry's exploding breasts).

While the album feels like it reaches its pinnacle on Side A with Thriller, Side B still brings it with Beat It and Billie Jean. Beat It is bad-ass. The choregraphed fighting in the video is priceless, evoking an early eighties West Side Story. You get the sense Jackson is both desperate to fit in, but at the same time, determined to go his own way. 

And then there is that unmistakable rousing beat of Billie Jean which still sends people squealing to the dance floor. I try not to think too much about the lyrics - the woman scheming after MJ kind of confounds me. 

The longevity of these songs is breathtaking. Thriller still sounds as exciting as it did when you first heard it. And Wanna Be Starting Something still makes me lose my mind. You know you've got it stuffed away in a cupboard somewhere. Find it and dust it off. 

Antics - Interpol

We know, we know - we've been lazy. Nonetheless, we've now relocated to the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. Tonight's Classic Album is bought to you by a cup of tea but now that Ramadan is over, we'll rectify that soon enough.

Interpol's extraordinary second album, Antics, was released in 2004. Their first, critically acclaimed album, Turn on the Bright Lights, was dark, angsty rock - brilliant but far from unique. I don't think I've heard another album like Antics. It's melodic and almost funky. It's still dark but it's not bleak, with lyrics that talk about love as being something other than a curse.

The opening song, Next Exit forms around a slow chant. After seeing their electric show at Splendour in 2005, my friend and I entertained the bus queue by singing Next Exit drunkenly and loudly. Those who knew the lyrics joined in. Others cursed us for ruining their formative memories of such an exciting show.

Evil is a stand-out on a seamless, tight album (check out the disturbing film clip). It slowly builds up momentum, carried along by a driving bass line, before pausing breathlessly and launching into the crescendo of the chorus. Banks' vocals resonate inside your head (even if we still have no idea what he's talking about...)

Slow Hands is also thrilling live. As good a gig-memory as I have in my rock-addled brain. It's got a dance-floor beat, thumping riff, and Banks' haunting vocals lifting you into the rousing chorus. It also has my all-time favourite rock lyric - "you make me want to pick up a guitar and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you". I think it may have appeared on a mix tape for L early on in our relationship.

Banks' vocals warrant mentioning. They are baritone, and at times monotone. He sounds like the monster out of a 1950s horror picked up a microphone and started singing in a plea for his lost love. With a funky emo rhythm section backing him. And before you get the wrong impression, that's a good thing.

So if you are concerned about your 15 year old nephew starting to look like Pete Wentz, give them this album for Eid and they'll be fine. The rock music will win out in the end. In the mean time, this album strangely suits a summer evening in Amman on the balcony.

Rage Guest Programming...

Rage is a big part of any kid's musical education. Later and later on each Friday or Saturday night, pushing your eyelids open, just to see what the next song was... At 2am, three inches away from the screen because you didn't want mum to know you were still watching rage UNKLE's Rabbit in Your Headlights or Aphex Twin's Come to Daddy, both of which were scarier than any horror film. 

The recent rage silver jubilee program was so joyful - John Farnham's Pressure Down, Salt-n-Pepa's Shoop and Pat Benatar's Love is a Battlefield and Madonna's Vogue. Keith Urban is programming rage tonight. The only reason I would be a famous musician is so I could guest program rage. No need when you have a bottle of wine and youtube. So tonight's Classic Album Martini Saturday deviation is L & B's fantasy rage guest program playlist. 

Janet Jackson - Rhythm Nation

I have a video of Janet Jackson videos, well-worn from playing and rewinding and playing and rewinding trying to learn these dance moves. 1814 is a great political record - more pop stars need to take a leaf out Janet's book (ah to show my age...) 

Radiohead - Paranoid Android

A film clip that matches the majesty and tragedy of the song. 

Kanye West and Jay-Z - Otis

Spike Jones ensures these two arrogant, talented rappers at the top of their game can do no wrong. Kanye is the king of the videos. And this, like the song, is three minutes of pure gold. 

Bruce Springsteen - Glory Days

This is not the greatest Bruce song, but it's the one I want to end all my nights with. 

Work it - Missy Elliot

Missy Elliot clips are always something else but with Work it, it takes on a whole new level of urgency and craziness. Love it. 

Pass the Courvoisier - Busta Rhymes

One of the most beautifully over the top hip hop film clips. I love the way Busta and Diddy push each other out of the way to get to the camera, and the discovery of Pharrell indisposed under the pool table is hilarious. The final third is a crazy non-sequitir, with Jamie Foxx appearing out of nowhere (and not contributing to the song) to help Busta and Diddy fight their way out of a massage parlour in bathrobes. And it has Mr T. 

Berlin Chair - You Am I

A popular pick on rage, the two dancers exude such enthusiasm. The joy of the clip is equal to the passion of the song. Also good for the awful haircuts displayed by all band members.

So What Cha Want - Beastie Boys

Three Beastie Boys in a forest rapping into the camera. I remember me and my brother trying to time a massive jump to land at the start of the rhyme, Ad Rock style.

Sukiyaki - Kyu Samamoto

I love this song. The constant smile on Kyu's face is a joy forever, particularly after the whistle solo.

Love in an Elevator - Aerosmith

Steve Tyler is wearing some kind of red body suit jacket thing with matching red leggings. He looks amazing. Tyler said "As you know, I'm androgynous. I can wear a jacket that most guys wouldn't put on. But you make it in guys' sizes, and suddenly they're wearing them. I think styles should get back to getting people to wear things that look so good that they don't care."

El Camino - The Black Keys

Too soon?

El Camino, The Black Key's 7th album from 2011, has turned them into rock and roll superstars. This is not their only album in the basket, but it has a pulse and energy that has made it one of our favourite albums of the last few years.

We can't remember finding music this exciting in a long time. It's as energising as Aha Shake Heartbreak or Is This It. A great soundtrack for driving, parties, Sunday mornings and anytime you want to feel alive.

Lonely Boy is electric, with a riff that punches you in the chest and then knees you in the balls. It rocketed to number 2 in last year's Hottest 100. While we like Gotye, Lonely Boy would get Somebody I Used to Know drunk on whiskey and have its way with her. When B came up with it in the sweep at the annual Hottest 100 party, he was made to dance on top of a slippery esky while being sprayed with - and spraying others - with cheap sparkling. While the clip is sweet, this would have made for an even better video.  L wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

While The Black Keys are a two-piece and have recorded albums as such, make no mistake that there's a whole lot of instruments and production on this album. Even though it's tighter and more polished than some of their previous albums, thanks to producer, Danger Mouse, this is no Kings of Leon-style move into the pop sphere. It's pure, in-your-face rhythm and blues. El Camino may have made The Black Keys the hottest rock band in the world, there is no need for backlash from the fans. This album would be big whatever decade it was recorded in.

The strongest songs include Gold on the Ceiling, Money Maker and Sister. Bugger it, they're all brilliant. 

If you've got somewhere to drive to tomorrow, stick Run Right Back in the car stereo and hope there's no double demerit points. The wailing guitar will have your foot pumping the accelerator. The only disconcerting part of this song is that the bridge sounds exactly like Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum. Good song and all, but it takes B back right back to his christian youth group days.

Drinkify said we should be drinking Canadian Club, lime juice and rum, fucking, rum. Instead, we're celebrating with our newest favourite drink - gin, Campari and sweet vermouth. Doesn't matter, as long as El Camino is playing loud.

Otis Redding Sings Soul - Otis Redding

Prepare for some gushing. We love Otis Redding and have ceded our (yet to exist) first child's name to his honour. Every song on this album is pants-wettingly brilliant.

Singling out an Otis album is difficult. His whole catalogue is outstanding and fits together seamlessly. Our preferred method of listening is to stick his albums on back to back to back etc and enjoy it all. From the funky dance numbers to the aching blues pieces. Soul is an odd genre - it encompasses a range of styles from rhythm and blues to funk to gospel. Who cares what we call it. Otis spans the full spectrum on this album and listening to it is a pure, joyful, celebration.

The riff to Ole Man Trouble is a offbeat welcome to the album. Otis' raspy holler pleads for some respite from the troubles in his life and even though we have none, we too plead for ole man trouble to get off our backs.

Otis' Respect and A Change is Gonna Come are not the definitive versions of these songs but they're probably our favourites. The lyrics to Respect are the same, but the music is completely different to Aretha's version. It's almost a big band number, with some sweet brass riffs. Respect is Otis asking his girl, to whom he's about to give all his money, to show him just a little respect. Ain't too much to ask is it?

A Change is Gonna Come is not as plaintive or polished as Sam Cooke's. Otis injects jazz arrangements to the song, giving it a rhythm and energy that the original lacked.

While Otis' voice is unequalled, the rhythm section on the album is extraordinary, producing some of the tightest, subtlest rhythm and blues you'll ever have the privilege to hear. We didn't realise till tonight that it was Booker T and the MGs, so now it makes a lot more sense. They pull back and let Otis wail, and then they take over and ignite the song. While we're not experts on production, the quality of the sound and the mixing on this album is excellent, beyond what you would expect to hear on a 1965 recording. The talent behind the album is exceptional - Isaac Hayes and Steve Cropper produced.

My favourite moment is Satisfaction. The Stones broke in the UK on the strength of covering rhythm and blues and soul numbers written by artists like Otis. Here Otis reciprocates, covering one of the first original songs the Stones finally got around to writing. Again, it's a completely different arrangement, with less of the dirty aggression of the original and more seduction.

No matter that it's a cliche, My Girl is a great and beautiful song. And then you hear Wonderful World  and it's funkier and more beautiful - pure ecstasy.

When god invented music, he had Otis in mind.

It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back - Public Enemy

We didn't own this album until today. I know, I know we should be ashamed and we are. This is the greatest hip hop album of all time. Public Enemy's second album of 1988, It Takes a Nation of Millions... is an unrelenting masterpiece. We really don't have a right to blog about this after two listens, let alone the fact that we are white, middle class, public servants in Australia, however that's never stopped wangs on the internet before. And we're drinking prosecco with campari - ha!

This album is intense, cutting and political. Chuck D's lyrics are aggressive and challenging and still uncomfortable - "They could not understand that I'm a black man And I could never be a veteran". And he doesn't let up for 16 tracks. Flavor adds a randomness to it that doesn't leave you completely alienated from the album. We can only imagine how these sorts of lyrics revolutionised hip hop. Gangsta rappers claimed to be inspired by PE - you can't help but think that Chuck D would have been embarrassed by the violent, cowardly misogyny of the worst of west coast rap.

And the music is simply brilliant. Sonically it more than matches Chuck D's lyrical prowess. The tense, in-your-face beats don't relent for the entire album - each song fits seamlessly into the next without being repetitive. You want to dance but also thrash your head. Somehow Terminator X, Eric 'Vietnam' Sadler and Hank Shocklee bring together a crap load of samples to form a entirely new and never beaten sound.

Don't Believe The Hype is the quintessential track.  Chuck D's flow is rythmic, fluid and resonant, while Flavor chimes in with the rousing chant. The beats are undeniable and exhausting, like you're in the middle or a riot with sirens blaring and drums thumping. Like all the tracks, the music is tense, wired and antagonistic.

Chuck D spits on love songs on Caught, Can I Get a Witness: "You singers are spineless. As you sing your senseless song to the mindless. Your general subject love is minimal. It's sex for profit."
So I wonder how he feels about Flavor Flav's ridiculous Flavor of Love...or appearance on Celebrity Wife Swap? Though he's always been a wack-job. I guess sex for profit always wins in the end.

This album remains hugely influential. Its a call to arms that hasn't really been beaten and it marks an era of rappers long gone. It's never too late to get on the bandwagon.

Dummy - Portishead

Everyone our age has this album in their collection. And if they don't, they either didn't have any taste or made it through the nineties without trying to impress a girl.

Rolling Stone call it a bizarre love triangle between a girl, a guy and a sampler. Spot on, but doesn't quite explain the haunting sexiness of Beth Gittons' voice or the slow funky beats of Geoff Barrow. Portishead's debut album from 1994 is simply beautiful. It's hard to write about this album without resorting to cliches. Like their Bristol counterparts Massive Attack, Portishead revolutionalised British music mostly for the better, but you must also admit, oftentimes for the worse. Who knows what came first? Cafes or cafe music.

The album is a slow grind of hip hop beats, combined with smooth jazz and soaring vocals. It's funky and contagious and it gets at you in a quiet, but compelling way.

There are definitely highlight tracks, such as Wandering Star and Numb, but this album is far more than the sum of its parts. I'm not sure anyone has ever listened to the tracks individually. It was always the album that you put on at the end of the night when most people had left the party and those who hadn't were draining any remaining bottles lying around the house. Or when you got home and frantically searched through the CD stack for an album that would aid your seduction efforts. This was always a safe bet because girls love it.

Although the risk is that when you get to a song like Roads, which is a tortured song of regret with exquisite vocals from Beth, you both end up feeling sad and raking over memories and disappointments.

The final track, Glory Box is the pinnacle of woe is woman, why don't boys appreciate me for who I am, only my girlfriends understand me etc etc... And many a time it has been ruined by young girls screeching in their bedroom, straining, yet failing, to reach Gitton's voice. Lemon stollies, you have a lot to answer for.

This album sounds as delicate, dark and edgy as it did back when you listened to it every weekend. Pour a glass of heavy red, dim the lights and let it wash over you.

Dinah Sings Bessie Smith - Dinah Washington

You probably don't own this 1958 album. Which is a shame because it's brilliant. And it's really hard to find. We had to have it imported from the Netherlands. Through Basement Discs in Melbourne. Aren't we cool. Yes, given we don't actually dig to find albums very often and because we love it so much there is a particular smugness in our relationship with it.

It's late March in Canberra so it is one of the last nights we'll comfortably sit outside. So we're smoking cigars and we'll probably have a bourbon after our martini. This is a night for nostalgia. For an era you don't really know anything about but wish to be a part of all the same.

Like so many blues greats, these songs are infused by tragedy. Bessie Smith grew up in the deep, deep south, developing her talent in a 'travelling minstrel show' and confined to performing to black audiences. Her popularity with white audiences really only grew after her death. Her decline was brought about by alcoholism but her death was the result of racism. After a car accident, she was denied treatment at a 'white's only' hospital and bled to death on the way to find another.

We think of Dinah mostly for her sentimental, slow, love songs. There's a couple on here, but her tribute to Bessie, recorded twenty years after Bessie's death, is blues and dixie jazz. Her voice is powerful, raspy and seductive. Most often it's Nina Simone we turn to for oomph, but Dinah more than brings it.

Send Me to the 'Lectric Chair is wonderful because, in a time when many blues numbers were about killing your cheatin', disrespeccin' lady, it's about a woman proudly owning up to "slitting her good man's throat" and asking to be slain rather than rotting in jail.

You've Been a Good Old Wagon is a serenade to a broken wagon. It's a testament to Dinah's singing that lamenting a broken cart sounds so sorrowful and wrenching. We're going to write a tune about L's late 1984 Sigma. It will break your heart.

The tremendous thing about these tunes is that there's four or five instruments playing lead at the same time. The vocals, keys, clarinet, trombone and trumpet all battle the others for the spotlight, each playing their own intricate melody but still fitting together to create ornate songs. And as much as we love the clarinet, Dinah's voice wins out every time.

We discovered this album after hearing Back Water Blues on a plane. Even through the crappy Qantas headphones, her voice blew you away. It's an astonishing song, breathtaking every time. It's about the flood in New Orleans in 1911, when the black community was left to fend for itself. Almost one hundred years later America, while so much had changed, there is still a ways to go.

This is a beautiful album with style and grace and guts. Go and find it for your next Saturday night at home with your gin.

Harvest - Neil Young

Harvest. Possibly the most classic of all classic albums.

This album turned Neil Young into an icon for hippies, civil rights activists and progressives everywhere. Young wrote protest songs without Dylan's irony. He is earnest, angry and downhome country.

The album sidles into the lounge room with two lackadaisical country stomps. It sounds as if Young and the Stray Gators sat around in a barn, sparked something up and let the tunes flow. And the reason it sounds like that is because that's exactly what they did.

Overwrought orchestral arrangements give A Man Needs a Maid a sophistication and melodrama that now sound eccentric. The song is brilliant for its unusual conclusion - after a break up, Young decides that he should give up on love and hire a maid to fulfil the domestic share of the relationship.

Heart of Gold kicks you in the guts with every listen. It remains one of the most powerful songs ever written. At its essence is a sincere and heartfelt hope for communalism, justice and equality. This is also the essence of the album.

Old Man was the other hit single from the album. It's a beautifully naive lament about growing up and getting old, breaking out into an anthemic chorus.

The album sometimes feels disjointed - but, somehow, not in a bad way. The difference in sound between the songs recorded in the studio and those recorded in Young's barn is stark.  Young dragged musician friends (like Linda Ronstandt and James Taylor) into the studio late at night to record tracks like Heart of Gold and Alabama, overlaying lead guitar later.

The loose group singing backing vocals on Alabama are perfect for its indictment of southern prejudice. The indignant young musicians gathered around a microphone and sang their disdain and hope for change.

Check out Rolling Stones' savaging of the album at the time, describing the lyrics as banal and the tunes insipid. It's worth reading not only as an historical curiosity but for its dreadful writing, so convoluted and pretentious it makes our writing seem understated.

The review is wrong in thinking Young's earnestness and hope is naive and glib.  The album just turned 40; its enduring popularity is testament to its sincerity and power.

Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen

Early in our relationship, one Valentine's Day, B told me "you ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright." And my heart melted. In a moment, I knew that he got it. He got my obsession with Bruce.

(B would like to add, btw, that he said it not because he believed it, but because he knew she loved the line).


Simply put dear reader, this is the greatest album of all time. L is not sure she can write about it and do it any justice. Thunder Road. Tenth Avenue Freeze Out. Jungleland. Born to Run. Born to Run is on most mix tapes, cd or playlist we've ever made and is always the first song played in the car on every road trip to Melbourne. Of course, only once we get past Hall and can put the foot on the gas.


L once heard Bruce talk about Born to Run album cover. As you open the sleeve, you see Bruce leaning on E Street Band saxophonist, Clarence Clemons. He describes the cover as an invitation to join the band. Thunder Road, the opening track, was Bruce's invitation to the album.

The song starts slowly with a lonely harmonica wail. It picks up speed as Bruce describes a vision: "the screen door slams, Wendy's dress sways". It's a simple but evocative image, which takes you somewhere else - straight into small town America. No songwriter has mastered imagery like Bruce. Indeed, he's more a storyteller than a songwriter. And there's many a novelist who could do well to learn from Bruce's pithiness. It doesn't take him 60,000 words to tell a tale.

Born to Run is extraordinary. Every listen makes us want to pack up our lives and get in a car and just go. What stops us is that we'd make it to Yass and realise it's not as easy as it sounds. That's the tragedy of the characters in Born to Run. We know that for all their enthusiasm and pent-up energy, they're not going to find escape and release.  The song apparently took six months to record, with overdub after overdub. Listen to the song closely and repeatedly and you can hear how it is painstakingly constructed. It's worth it. Every bar is a masterpiece; it's never been bested.

Bruce has made great solo albums but the E Street Band take his songs to a whole nother level. Each member of the band is a great talent and there's an unusual egalitarianism to the songs' production. No part dominates the other. Each instrument equally vies for your attention, which makes the album anything but subtle. The complementarity shows a band of geniuses working in perfect harmony.

Of course, Bruce is the pinnacle. His vocals are raw, rock and roll. But he has range and he can do it soft or loud. And when he's loud he's electrifying. The best there ever was.

Jungleland warrants mentioning because it's the world in a song. It doesn't have a single narrative arc, it has multiple. From highs to lows to deeper lows and the most breathtaking pinnacle. Our favourite line is "down here the poets don't write nothing at all, they just sit back and let it all be". Clarence's sax solo is magnificent. In a world where "sax solo" has rightfully become a dirty phrase, this stands alone.

It's a town full of losers. I'm pulling out of here to win.

Heartbreaker - Ryan Adams

And we're back. Christmas holidays, milestone birthdays, Hottest 100 and finally we've returned to the routine of a martini, an overly ambitious meal and a classic album. How I have missed martinis.

What an exquisite album to bring us into 2012. Ryan Adam's debut solo album from 2000 is his masterpiece. It opens with a rockabilly foot stomp, To Be Young, which incites some backyard dancing at Martini Saturdays headquarters. It's followed up with My Winding Wheel, which is a beautifully optimistic love song. In fact they are all beautiful love songs, either about wanting someone, finding someone or losing someone. There is no shortage of women who have fallen in love listening to this album.

Ryan is usually categorised as 'alt-country'; we've always doubted the utility of this term because it seems to only ever be used to describe Ryan Adams and Wilco. In which case, it is probably the greatest music genre of recent times.

My Sweet Carolina is a lonesome travelling ballad about loss, hope, thwarted ambition and missing your home. That is, it's like nearly all country ballads. It says something about the universality of these emotions that such a popular and enduring genre barely covers anything else. Also, like so many country ballads, Emmylou Harris and her ageless voice provide sweet backing vocals.

Ryan's band, Whiskeytown, whom he left just before recording Heartbreaker, were a fun country band. But they didn't have the raw, subtle, brilliant melodies of Heartbreaker and (some of) Ryan's subsequent albums. Tracks 8-10 are the perfected and quintessential core of this album. Damn Sam is a simple tune with confused metaphors, but it's one of the first of his songs that I fell in love with. Come Pick Me Up is his classic, the song most often cited as his best. And even after a thousand listens, the first notes of the harmonica still have enough power to kick you in the guts.

To Be the One is Ryan musing on the night before, with a guitar in hand. I can never decide whether is about a relationship break up or a one night stand. This track has some great lyrics - "I don't know which is worse: to wake up and see the sun, or to be the one that's gone". And the best line on the album - "the empty bottle it misses you and I'm the one it's talking to".

There is a quiet intimacy to this album that no other Ryan Adams' album quite reaches. It's best enjoyed when you're drinking by yourself, late at night with headphones on, yearning for someone to share it with you (but knowing they'd ruin the wonderful loneliness).

For those of you familiar with Ryan, we can't write this blog post without acknowledging that he's a complete wang. I love him and (almost) everything he releases. However, the one time I've seen him live he was terrible. A prima donna who couldn't be bothered to perform. We're seeing him at the Forum in Melbourne next month on the back of his best release in five years (Ashes & Fire). He better bring it this time.

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill - Lauryn Hill

We have cheated a number of times in choosing this week's classic album. It's Friday night for a start. We also went through a number of 'random' selections before finding an album we wanted to listen to. Nirvana, the Velvet Underground and Nick Cave were not appropriate for this balmy Canberra evening where the beers are flowing and there is still the promise of the weekend. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is perfect.

Lauryn Hill's first solo album is a deep, slow-burning, hip hop record. It's low-key but intense - the lyrics and themes are deeply personal - exploring race, love, women and faith. Hill's rapping rivals anyone in the game but it's her singing that sets her apart. It's smooth, subtle and soulful. She switches seamlessly from rapping to singing throughout the album, harmonising with herself and riffing off her own melodies.

B offers his analysis - "It sounds like she was smoking a lot of weed". Well yes, she was hanging out in Jamaica with Bob Marley's son and the family of Marleys. Hill was pregnant when she was writing this album - the creativity and moving influence of this time of her life is borne out in the songs.  She mixes reggae, r&b and soul influences, producing a ground-breaking hip hop album that challenged and defeated the misogynistic genre.

The massive hit was Doo Wop (That Thing). This is the song you want your little girls to listen to. It's Aretha Franklin's modern day Respect. Make your boys listen too for that matter. This album was huge because it appealed to everyone. And if you find someone who claims to like hip hop without respecting this album, then kick them in the shins. Ex-Factor is the killer break up song that Kelly Clarkson wishes she could get close to.

Despite being a brilliant album that easily stacks up 15 years down the track, at 70 minutes in length, it does start to fade towards the end, particularly the appalling Nothing Even Matters with D'Angelo. Nonetheless, Everything is Everything kicks in towards the end and keeps the faith. The film clip of  New York as a giant record is a revelation.

It is only fitting that Kanye ends our post tonight with some sadly honest lines about Hill in his song Champion - "Lauryn Hill says her heart was in Zion. I wish her heart still was in rhyming. Cos who the kids gonna listen to huh? I guess me if it isn't you". Yep, nicest way to say that since this very brilliant album, Lauryn Hill has stepped off the reservation.

'68 Comeback Special - Elvis Presley

If we could only take one album between us on a desert island, this would be it. No ifs, no buts. Elvis' black leather suit comeback album is the perfect mix of rockin', croonin' and swagger. We love the stand-up version, but it's the sit-down version that makes us lose our shit.

After a decade long contract with the big movie studios, Elvis had to be reintroduced to the public to prove that he was still cool. The stand-up special is an OTT, musical stage play of his most popular numbers. Famously, during a break in rehearsals, the producers saw Elvis jamming with his band in the break-out room and were blown away. The low-key 'sit-down' show was born and was released as the B-side. Thank goodness, because it is stripped-back, raw and perfect. Elvis jamming and joking around with his bandmates. Just singing and letting loose.

They play fragments of songs, they play songs twice, they start songs and Elvis forgets the words, they shift seamlessly from one song to another (When My Blue Moon Turns to Gold Again into Blue Christmas is fabulous). And it's the most wonderful recording ever made.  That's Alright Mama is simply gold. The second time they play Lawdy Miss Clawdy is spine tingling - the first wailing note that Elvis sings is a pants-wetting moment. The greatest single bar in popular music. If we could travel to any point in the history of the earth, it would be this.

The stories and banter between songs are hilarious. Elvis talks about being banned from moving his hips during gigs. He reflects on the changes to music since he last performed live. "I like a lot of the new groups, the Beatles, the Byrds...". he's reflective, he's very funny, he's shy and he's commanding. All at the same time.

It's easy to get blown away by Elvis' voice and hear nothing else. But every member of the band is a genius (even if some of them tell bad jokes). Scotty Moore's guitar is subtle and exquisite. And DJ Fontana is playing drums on a guitar case. A goddamn guitar case. And have we mentioned the leather suit???

The second time they play Trying to Get to You is amazing, with Elvis throwing everything at it. The most beautiful moment is when the song draws to a close and the band pleads with Elvis "one more time, one more time" and he tears into the chorus with no regard for his vocal chords.

The set on the version we have closes with If I Can Dream, a poignant, optimistic rip-roaring plea for hope. "While I can think, while I can talk, while I can stand, while I can walk, while I can dream, please let me dream". Lennon's Imagine is weak compared to this.

Our friend Elvio introduced us to this record and he has our eternal gratitude. If you only know Elvis from the ballads like Love Me Tender, you need to buy this record. If you're a living, breathing human being, you need to buy this record. And if you're a bloke, accept that you're wife will never be as attracted to you as she is to Elvis (but if it's any comfort, the man sure as shit went downhill from here...). This is not just the peak of Elvis, this is the peak of music.

Definitely Maybe - Oasis

I'm surprised it's taken us this long to get to Oasis. Of B's favourite bands of his long-haired and awkward youth (we now only have You Am I and Ryan Adams to go - stay tuned).

Oasis's first album, Definitely Maybe marked the resurgence of British rock'n'roll and spoilt rock stars.  Oasis had swagger before Kanye even knew what the word meant. We could probably dedicate a blog to "quotes of Noel". For a band that took itself so seriously, the best thing about Definitely Maybe is the sense of fun. Rock and Roll Star is a balls-out rock and roll song about wanting to be a balls-out rock and roller. I loved playing this song on guitar, turning up my 15-watt amp and wailing "toniiiight, I'm a rock and roll star" (along with, I'm sure,  hundreds of thousands of adolescent indie boys).

Shakermaker is kind of fun, kind of cheesy and kind of forgettable. Surprisingly, it was the second single from the album.

Live Forever is the sort of anthemic ballad for which Oasis became famous and which multiplied their fan base by the millions. It's a great song, but I can't help but think that it pales in comparison to later songs like Wonderwall and Champagne Supernova. And I will be honest and say that while Noel is a brilliant songwriter, his lyrics are naff. "Maybe I don't really want to know how your garden grows, cos I just want to fly."

The riff in Columbia is thrilling. The best live show I've seen Oasis perform was at the Livid festival in Melbourne. It was so freakin energised and this song was a highlight. Listen to the beat and imagine yourself jumping up and down in a mosh with a thousand pasty brit-pop fans. (Ok, that image does not sound as awesome as it was...) Speaking of naff, the backdrop for the stage was a black banner with the word "EXIST" written in massive white letters. Umm, ok, thanks Oasis. Will do.

Supersonic. First single they ever released. It grabs every other rock song written in the 1990s by the collar and punches them in the face. Our friend Karin is painting 100 stories about people's favourite songs. My story was about Supersonic, so read it and see the painting here.

Cigarettes and Alcohol is brilliantly funky and fun. Noel was accused of stealing the riff from Get It On by T-Rex. Agreed, it is pretty similar, but who cares? He took the riff, dressed it in some skinny jeans, stuck a cigarette in its mouth and poured a shot of Jack down its throat. Job well done.

Digsy's Dinner is the band playing around, still to great effect. It's most famous for the opening line: "what a life it would be if you would come to mine for tea, I'll pick you up at half past three and we'll have lasagne." The Beatles comparison always bemused me - Oasis were a rocking great band, but Noel sits a few rungs below John and Paul in the songwriter stakes.

Slide Away almost sounds like a grunge song, which is odd because Oasis billed themselves as the antithesis of grunge, the dominant sound of the time. It shifts from the minor-key verse into the major chorus though, and the morose, grungy, mood is dismissed by the uplifting brit-pop chorus.

The album closes with Married With Children, a throw-away song (with some brilliant lead guitar work)  that still sounds excellent. My favourite line is "I hate the books you read and all your friends, your music's shite it keeps me up all night."

I spent many years thinking about which of Definitely Maybe or (What's the Story) Morning Glory (also in the basket) was my favourite Oasis album. I usually came down on the side of Definitely Maybe because the sound is much more raw. On the verge of becoming one of the biggest bands in the world, Oasis sounded like a bunch of lads rocking out in their Mum's garage. I dearly love this album for sentimental reasons. It might not be the greatest album, however it's pretty fucking good.

Sorry, you can't write about Oasis without swearing.

Abbey Road - The Beatles

It had to happen at some point. There are twenty-five goddamn Beatles' albums in the basket. And so as last week's post was my love letter to Tom Waits (and if you haven't bought his new album, Bad As Me, shame on you), it's B's turn to carry on like a pork chop about Lennon and McCartney this week. I accept the songs are good but god I hate The Beatles.

Taking the laptop from L, I point out that The Beatles only released 13 albums (four are in the basket). Considering all were written in a seven-year period, I consider this to be the richest period of artistic creation in the history of humanity.

Writing about Abbey Road is like reviewing the Bible. Fortunately, we have the cojones to do so. (Incidentally, our review of the Bible would consist of five words - "could do with an edit").

Come Together is one of those Beatles songs which is so omniscient you forget how brilliant it is. It doesn't sound like any other Beatles song - it's all drums and percussions and funk. It wears its jeans so tight it needs to do the fly up with pliers and would be (re: is) cool in any era.

There's not much to say about Something, except that it's perfect. It has never been bested. Period. Until you hear Here Comes the Sun. It's a Harrison one-two knockout punch that leaves you lying on the canvas, bruised and breathless.

This album is the most polished of all Beatles releases. The songs in themselves are pure, breathtaking genius. But the production polishes them up until they are flawless diamonds. It verges on over-production, but never crosses the line, with harmonies and string sent in just at the right moment to rocket the songs into the stratosphere.

I reckon if someone challenged God to write a pop song, he would write Oh Darling. The piano riff is textbook 50s-Jerry-Lee Lewis-Little Richard rock and roll, but the plaintive plea of the chorus is sung with such raw passion it sounds like it's tearing McCartney's vocal chords to shreds.

As all readers would know, after Because, side two is seamless, with each song segueing into the next. This is not easily done, particularly considering Lennon and McCartney had stopped writing together. McCartney and George Martin took the fragments of unfinished songs and melded them into an incredible medley. Some of these songs fully formed would have been the pinnacle of another songwriter's career, but for The Beatles, they are the leftovers spooned onto a plate and microwaved to make a meal.

The album is McCartney's from this point on. You Never Give Me Your Money starts with a quintessential McCartney minor key, brooding, melody describing his boredom with daily life and then jumps into a rocking anthem about the thrill of escape when "one sweet dream came true today".

My favourite song on the album is She Came in Through the Bathroom Window. The bassline is funky and the verses are exhilarating. McCartney is wonderfully skilful at capturing suburban mundanity with lines like "Sunday's on the phone to Monday, Tuesday's on the phone to me."

The climax is all four Beatles singing "boy, you're going to carry that weight a long time"; it sounds like the encore to the best concert you never went to. Brilliantly, it reverts back to You Never Give Me You Your Money and then segues into The End, which sounds like a victory lap, with the band throwing flowers into the crowd.

There's really no way to describe Abbey Road and do it justice. Put it on and let it take your breath away. And with Queen Elizabeth in town, enjoy the final line of "I want to tell her that I love her a lot, but I gotta get a belly full of wine, Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl and someday I'm gonna make her mine."

Even L admits that she doesn't mind the album by the end, although she does note that my hyperbole-filled post has failed to mention Octopus's Garden....

Closing Time - Tom Waits

I've been waiting patiently for this album to be pulled out of the basket. Tom Waits' first album from 1973, Closing Time, is my favourite. It was before he shredded his vocal chords so it's very accessible, however, it still has the tragic, romantic and lonesome themes of the rest of his canon.

Even though Waits was in his early twenties when this was released, you'd believe he was an old man sitting drunk at the bar. Similar to Bruce Springsteen, Waits sings stories of people - their fears, hopes and dreams.

Sadly, B doesn't find Waits' voice on his later albums - described as being "soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car" - as seductive as I do so this album is played more than his other work at our house. It is also one of 'our' albums, which together with the aforementioned Springsteen reference should provide you with adequate forewarning, dear reader, of the painful mush to come in this post.

Early in our 'courting days' B & I took a 'sick day' and just hung out. Martha Wainwright was being interviewed on triple j about her favourite songs and she played I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You. We both listened gobsmacked by the beauty of the song; the clarity of Waits' voice and the vivid picture it painted in our minds. We were both pretending not to be in love with one another but knowing damn well where it was headed.

Martha of course, played Martha next. Alone in our imaginations, we speculated about forty years down the track when our relationship - which hadn't really started - hadn't actually worked out, as an old Tom Frost wonders what might have been with Martha. In order to avoid this fate, B would argue I stuck my claws in at this very point and haven't let up...

Martha is the best song on the album. But before you can feel sorry for the fool, there is plenty of male bravado. Old Shoes (& Pictures Postcards) is the cocky goodbye to a lover - "farewell to the girl with the sun in her eyes, I'm gonna kiss you and then I'll be gone". It's followed up by Midnight Lullaby which epitomises the mood of this album. You need to listen to it in a smokey club, with velvet drapes, nursing your joys or your sorrows over a whiskey at 2am.

The album veers from blues to swing. Virginia Avenue is Tom serenading the tired hooker who frequents the bar. The swing is particularly joyous on Ice Cream Man. Sung with a wink, it's a song that sparkles of show tunes.

Tom Waits music has remained interesting, challenging and brilliant since this debut. Waits is probably the most popular singer to be labelled a cult artist. A bit like Charles Bukowski whose poetry remains immensely popular too. Unlike most things 'cult' he is still releasing albums worth buying almost forty years later.

If you need to be introduced to Waits (and find his gravelly voice grating), then grab a copy of Closing Time. There are a few different women on this album and no doubt Waits loves them all and doesn't mean to break their hearts. But he does. And god he makes bloody beautiful music about it. And to finish off your evening, treat yourself by having a listening to Springsteen covering the best song ever written, Tom Waits' Jersey Girl.

Is This It - The Strokes

Is This It, the Strokes first, and best, album from 2001. The title track perfectly captures the disappointed nonchalance mood of the album. Who can be bothered including a question mark.

The second track, The Modern Age, was a floor-filler at indie kid parties. It's like the slacker protagonist of the first song finishes work at his shop assistant job, heads out with his friends and after a few drinks, finally feels alive for the first time that day. Crack a beer and turn this up loud and you'll understand.

The hyperbole that accompanied the release of this album was preposterous. It was like it was the first good rock and roll album to be released in five years. NME wet its pants and hailed the Strokes as the 'saviours' of rock and roll (considering Foo Fighters and U2 were dominating with MOR rock at the time, maybe it was fair...). All the hype turned me off at the time and it took a few months of constantly hearing it at parties, barbecues and bars before I finally gave in and bought it. It might not have been the only good rock and roll album released in five years, but it was undoubtedly the best.

The brilliance of the album is that while all the songs sound kind of the same - as if the Strokes only had one effect on their guitars and mic - each of them is still fresh, brilliant and exciting. Today as much as ten years ago (cue panic attack upon realisation that ten years have passed since we first heard this album). We all knew that it was faux-garage rock (because there was no room in the Strokes' parents garages amongst the Mercedes), but the simplicity of the songs and the production gives the album a rawness which feels like authenticity and sincerity.

The worst thing about the hype is that the Strokes became their image. They were the coolest band in the world, and they thought to be cool they had to nonchalant. I saw them at the Big Day Out and they sucked. It wasn't that they were bad, it was that they were so affected. They came onto stage, played theirs songs without moving or speaking, their faces completely expressionless. To play a song as exciting as like Last Nite without moving or expressing any emotion was a crime against the song. Sacrificing their music for their image is part of the reason their subsequent albums have been half-baked and mediocre. Some great songs, no doubt. But if there's only two good songs on the album, don't bother releasing it.

But back to their pinnacle - hot damn Last Nite is a good song. It's cruel though, because it makes you want to dance and there's no way to dance with dignity to that song. Put it on, let your limbs go and you'll know what we mean.

There's such a coherent mood to this album, rocking out while singing "baby, I feel so down, but I don't know why." The cavalier attitude towards the disappointment of modern life is wonderful and uplifting.

New York City Cops is our favourite song. It's degenerate and incendiary, with one of the most seditious sing-a-long choruses ever written. It was initially left off the American release of the album - after September 11, singing that New York City cops ain't so smart was not acceptable. September 11 had some strange impacts on music - the Strokes broke the big time with an album that didn't include its best song; Shihad changed its name to Pacifier and lost most of its fans; while Bruce Springsteen was inspired to make his best album in almost twenty years.

Trying Your Luck is the only weak moment on the album. Skip. Take It Or Leave It is a great closer though. Take it or leave it. No one cares.

The weather's warming up, so invite your friends over for a barbecue, make a Dry Manhattan (2 parts Bourbon; 1 part dry vermouth; dash of bitters; stir over ice; strain and serve with olives) and don't be afraid to put on an album that's ten years old because it's still the perfect rock and roll soundtrack.