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I was a blossoming 12-year-old skater punk in November 1994, when the Seattle alt-rock band dropped their Unplugged album, featuring Kurt Cobain’s hair-raising cover of Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World.” It was downright revelatory. I was introduced to The Vaselines, Lead Belly, and the Meat Puppets, and reintroduced to a familiar man: David Bowie. My parents had played his biggest hits at home from time to time, but this was different. This was mysterious, dangerous, hip, magnetic, edgy. My pals and I investigated together, borrowing records from our older brothers and sisters, and rocking out, wide-eyed and mystified. It was a familiar ‘60s/’70s rock and roll sound, one we loved, but far more adventurous, and the into-the-unknown lyrics of space, love, and the infinite turned us on, big time. It felt like a true discovery. As I’d find over the next few decades, Bowie’s career was one of constant discovery, for both his fans and himself, of ever-evolving personas, images, fashions, and sounds. That constant flux came to an end Sunday, January 10, 2016, when Bowie lost an 18-month-long battle to liver cancer. His last effort, his 25th album Blackstar, was released just two days earlier on his 69th birthday.

LISTEN TO DAVID BOWIE’S BLACKSTAR IN PRIME MUSIC

Born David Jones on January 8, 1947 in London, the singer-songwriter would assume many identities over his 50-year-plus musical career. He started playing saxophone at age 13 and at 20 he entered the music business like many up-and-coming British rockers of the time: as an acoustic guitar-toting folky. In 1967, he released his self-titled debut, which failed to chart on either side of the Atlantic. But his next release, led by the No. 1 U.K. single “Space Oddity,” kick started a career that would only stop morphing with his death. A slew of hits and artistic peaks followed and helped define the ‘70s—“Starman,” “The Jean Genie,” “Life on Mars?,” “Rebel Rebel,” “Diamond Dogs,” “Young Americans,” “Fame,” “Golden Years,” “Sound and Vision,” “Heroes.” He also co-wrote and produced Mott the Hoople's All the Young Dudes album, revived former Velvet Underground frontman Lou Reed's career with glam flair on Transformer, collaborated with John Lennon, and produced Iggy and the Stooges' Raw Power before working on (and touring behind) Iggy Pop's solo breakthrough albums The Idiot and Lust for Life.

In his first full decade as an artist, he transformed from a folk troubadour to an androgynous glam rock alien (Ziggy Stardust), a cocaine-obsessed future-funk explorer (The Thin White Duke), and a recovering arty in search of new sounds (Berlin albums Low, Heroes, Lodger). In the coming years, he’d work with Queen (“Under Pressure”), Chic mastermind Nile Rodgers, blues guitar legend Stevie Ray Vaughan, Rolling Stones singer Mick Jagger, Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor, indie rock royalty Arcade Fire, and dive head first, musically, personally, and visually, into new wave, hard rock, and techno sounds. Finally, with Blackstar, he’d work with a jazz quartet to explore a world of dark textures, cryptic songwriting, and eerie lyrics about humanity’s weaknesses.

Bowie was also an actor, and, in many ways, his acting and musical careers were one and the same. He first starred as Thomas Jerome Newton in 1976's sci-fi flick The Man Who Fell to Earth. He played the lead in a 1980 theatrical production of The Elephant Man and a vampire in Tony Scott's 1983 horror film The Hunger. He worked with the most-respected directors in the business, including Julien Temple (Absolute Beginners), Martin Scorsese (The Last Temptation of Christ), and David Lynch (Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me). He was Jareth the Goblin King in the musical Labyrinth, and played himself in Zoolander, the TV show Extras, and the Vanessa Hudgens film Bandslam. He even lent his voice to SpongeBob SquarePants. In his final months, Bowie co-wrote a surreal, off-Broadway sequel to The Man Who Fell to Earth, called Lazarus, that’s currently running in New York City, and he starred in a pair of music videos for Blackstar. In the video for the song “Lazarus,” Bowie is in a hospital bed with his eyes covered by a shroud. “Look up here, I’m in heaven,” he sings. “I have scars that can’t be seen / This way or no way / You know, I'll be free / Just like that bluebird / Now ain't that just like me?”

Blackstar was his final act—he was literally working against life’s clock to deliver a gorgeous swan song for us all. And it was quintessential Bowie, bowing to no one, always looking forward.

Tony Visconti, Bowie’s longtime producer who worked on Blackstar, posted a statement on his Facebook page: "[Bowie’s] death was no different from his life—a work of art,” he wrote. "He made Blackstar for us, his parting gift. I knew for a year this was the way it would be. I wasn't, however, prepared for it. He was an extraordinary man, full of love and life. He will always be with us.”

Bowie’s music was highly visual, from the vivid stories in his songs to his flashy, gender-bending fashion statements and music videos. Fittingly, his music has appeared in many movies—Quentin Tarantino used “Cat People (Putting Out Fire)” in 2009’s Inglourious Basterds. John Hughes used “Young Americans” in Sixteen Candles and the lyrics to “Changes” as the epigraph to The Breakfast Club. David Lynch used Bowie songs in Lost Highway. Bowie’s music appeared in everything from Moulin Rouge to Starship Troopers. Wes Anderson based the entire soundtrack to 2004’s The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou around acoustic covers of Bowie’s late-‘60s and ‘70s hits all sung in Portuguese by Seu Jorge.

One of the most memorable Bowie movie moments is a scene from The Perks of Being a Wallflower. The 16-year-old protagonist Charlie, in love for the first time, stands in the bed of a pick-up truck as it speeds through a tunnel, the lights flickering in a blur as they accelerate to the sound of Bowie’s star-crossed anthem “Heroes.” “I, I will be king / And you, you will be queen,” Bowie howls. “Though nothing, will keep us together / We could steal time, just for one day / We can be heroes, forever and ever / What do you say?” Charlie lifts his arms, closes his eyes, and flies with the truck as the synths and throbbing groove rise.

“In this moment, I swear,” Charlie says in a voiceover, “we are infinite.”

Bowie’s life—his music, his art, his entire existence—was a masterclass demonstration of the infinite, of infinite possibility, infinite artistic choice, and infinite rebirths and beginnings. Don’t let his lesson pass you by.

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And the living, breathing embodiment of that British hard rock band’s careening, speed metal sound was frontman Lemmy Kilmister, who passed away Monday night at 70 years old. “There is no easy way to say this,” the remaining band members wrote on Facebook, “our mighty, noble friend Lemmy passed away today after a short battle with an extremely aggressive cancer... We cannot begin to express our shock and sadness, there aren’t words.”

“Play Lemmy’s music LOUD. Have a drink or few. Share stories. Celebrate the LIFE this lovely, wonderful man celebrated so vibrantly himself. HE WOULD WANT EXACTLY THAT.”

In response, musicians and friends of all stripes paid their respects to the fallen rock hero. “Lost one of my best friends, Lemmy, today,” tweeted Ozzy Osbourne, who recruited Lemmy to co-write tracks on his 1991 album No More Tears. “He will be sadly missed. He was a warrior and a legend. I will see you on the other side.”

Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl, one of Motörhead’s most vocal fans, wrote, “We've lost a friend & legend. My heart is broken. RIP Lemmy. Born To Lose, Lived To Win.”

Kiss’ Paul Stanley chimed in, too: “Lemmy has passed away. Truly one of a kind. Much more to him than many knew. RIP.” Mark Langean recalled seeing Lemmy live in action as a kid. “Seeing Motörhead at the Yakima Speedway on ace of spades tour changed my life,” he wrote. “So sad.”

Even hip hop maestro DJ Premiere wrote, “R.I.P. Lemmy Kilmister of Mötorhead... Legend...Loved your music since the 70's... I will keep playin’ your music LOUD.”

The word “loud” is an omnipresent one as the tributes for Lemmy pour in—his music and his lifestyle was always turned up to 11. He started as a roadie for the Jimi Hendrix Experience and even shared an apartment with the band’s bassist, Noel Redding, before joining psychedelic rock band Hawkwind on bass. Three years later he was fired when police discovered speed stashed in his trousers at a Canadian border crossing. And then Motörhead was born.

Over 40 years the band released 22 studio albums, including 1980′s Ace of Spades. Its title track would come to define the band. With its careening, downright frightening bass slaps, shrapnel-sharp guitar stabs, and Lemmy’s gravelly vocals, the song transcended genre and fan groups. It you liked rock, you liked “Ace of Spades.” Its sound was the musical equivalent of letting go, hitting the gas, and flying fast and furious into the dangerous unknown.

It wasn’t just his music, either. Lemmy became an accidental icon—a speed metal Keith Richards immortalized by his legendary partying, womanizing, and personal style. Just picture it: the bushy muttonchops, the pair of facial moles, a Civil War cavalry top hat, an omnipresent Jack Daniel’s and Coke in his right hand, and the smell of tobacco from the one-after-the-other cigarette smoking. He was swaggering, but, as his close friends note, always a consummate gentlemen. The spirit of rock and roll was a man who turned 70 on December 24, just wrapped up a European tour and was planning another, and dropped dead just days after his diagnosis. If something had to be done, Lemmy wanted to get on with it.

Lemmy’s close friend Alice Cooper said it best: “When we say ‘one of a kind’ in rock and roll, Lemmy was the epitome of that—one of the most beloved characters in rock and roll. I can't think of anyone who didn’t adore Lemmy...”

Lemmy Kilmister lived rock and roll; it was his life’s work. “That's the way I like it, baby,” he sang in “Ace of Spades,” “I don't wanna live for ever!” Yet he will.

“STP” was emblazoned in red and black bold face type across a circular, silver-dollar-sized piece of steel, with a black leather lanyard holding it all together. My sister bought it for me at the Seattle stop of Lollapalooza 1992, along with a “Honey Bucket” t-shirt. I was nine years old and totally, utterly stoked. I’m 32 now; I still have the necklace.

As unsurprising as it may be, due to his long battle with substance abuse, the death of Scott Weiland Friday has hit harder than expected. Given the heartfelt tributes online, it appears I’m not alone. Weiland and Stone Temple Pilots were formative to many music lovers and certainly helped shape my life as a rock nerd and critic. They were among the first bands I was drawn to, sneaking into my older sisters’ rooms to snoop around in their CD collections. Alongside albums from the likes of U2, Snoop Dogg, Pearl Jam, The Lemonheads, R.E.M., Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana and others, STP’s first two releases became the soundtrack of my explosion into the music world, and the early 1990s was fertile ground.

But, in a sense, Weiland and STP were a band out of time. The ‘90s were all mope and angst, and while their first album, Core, bore the hallmarks of grunge music—brooding, abstract lyrics and down-tuned electric guitars—STP evolved away from that sound with each new album, hitting their stride as a ‘70s arena rock group with Weiland’s slithering dance moves, leather pants, eyeliner, silk scarves, and dandy-esque suits. The musical heart of the band, brothers Dean and Robert DeLeo, crafted hooky canvases for one of the best rock voices of our era. Their high-water mark was Tiny Music… Songs From the Vatican Gift Shop, and Scott agrees. In one of his final interviews, surfaced in the wake of his death, Weiland gushes about the 1996 release, which produced three No. 1 Rock Singles amid a solid, full album experience. From the drifting-dream jazz and fluid vocals of “And So I Know” to the driving psych-rock of “Tumble in the Rough,” the distorted pop balladry of “Lady Picture Show” to the manic, kaleidoscopic rock of “Trippin’ on a Hole in a Paper Heart,” the cascading and surging emotion of “Adhesive” to the slide guitar sketch of “Daisy,” Tiny Music is a solid-gold tour-de-force. It’s been embraced by rock critics and hardcore STP fans, but hasn’t been given the due it deserves. "That's STP's most creative album," Weiland said, picking it as the album from his catalog he’d take to a deserted island. Me too.

As a music nerd, however, STP fandom sometimes presented a few problems. Grunge lifers claimed they were a cash-grab band, assembled by a label to bank on the flannelled success of bands like Pearl Jam, the Seattle group STP would regularly and unfairly be compared to. The indie nerds pointed to Stephen Malkmus, the Pavement frontman who prodded STP with his track “Range Life,” calling them “elegant bachelors.” “They're foxy to me / Are they foxy to you?” This was somehow construed as a hot rock beef in 1994. And so the lines were drawn. But why pick sides? Why not both?

I have fond memories of Scott Weiland. During my six years as an editor with SPIN magazine I had the pleasure of interviewing him several times, and my coworkers often razzed me for my unabashed giddiness (few others—for example, Noel Gallagher, Marilyn Manson, Jason Spaceman, Johnny Marr, Malkmus—were of equal thrill). We talked about the comeback STP album. We talked about his out-of-left-field Christmas release, his memoirs, his clothing line, and his hard rock band with members of Guns N’ Roses, Velvet Revolver. But the best of those interviews was a long chat just before the release of his second solo album, 2008’s Happy in Galoshes. After the procedural questions about the album, all answered in a concise, I’ve-answered-this-one-before manner, we talked about his influences and favorite bands, and he just opened up. He poured out knowledge and praise for Led Zeppelin, The Doors, T. Rex, Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones, Elton John, and especially his idol, David Bowie—all the artists that had a part in shaping his personal and musical identity. I had to interrupt, halting his affectionate rambles, each time I had a question. I’ve witnessed few people deliver such ardent testimonies to rock and roll.

Still, the guy has had issues. Crack. Heroin. DUIs. Very public marital issues. Egotism—the stories from the photo shoot for SPIN’s cover story on STP’s 2010 return were rife with intoxicated ridiculousness. But he fought back. He had triumphs and failures in his battle with drugs, alcohol, and himself, but sadly, it ultimately claimed his life. But strip away the drugs, the line-drawing Pavement “disses,” the lazy Pearl Jam comparisons, and all the rock elitist shade-throwing, and you’re left with a collection of truly great rock and roll songs and a man capable of delivering transcending live performances. Few moments in music are more mesmerizing than when Scott slithers across the stage, plants a foot on the speaker, and screams into a megaphone, his silk ascots billowing around his neck. The guy was the definition of a classic rock star. That’s how we choose to remember Scott Weiland—as one of rock and roll’s biggest fans and greatest talents. We’ll miss you, Scott. Godspeed.

It was Amazon’s first-ever Golden Globe award—and Transparent became the first online series to ever win a best series award!

And now Transparent is up to repeat its success with a series of Emmy noms. Actually, 11 of ‘em. Among the many nods is composer Dustin O’Halloran’s nomination for Outstanding Original Main Title Theme Music; his tender piano piece is in good company too, appearing on the series’ soundtrack alongside music from Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Jim Croce, and others.

We caught up with O’Halloran at his home in Berlin to discuss his Transparent theme song, musical inspirations, reaction to the Emmy noms, and what’s next for Transparent.

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Where were you when you heard your Transparent theme was nominated for an Emmy and how did you react? Who was the first person you called?

I was in a grocery store in Berlin when I got the call. It was a big surprise; I honestly didn't expect it. I called my manager Tim Husom to share the news and then, of course, my mother.

What was your first impression of Transparent when director Jill Soloway showed you the pilot over breakfast in Berlin?

I thought it was really great, well written, and Jeffrey’s performance was so good. It had so many layers in it and it had a lot of empathy and subtle humor to it that I really appreciated. I could see from the pilot it would have a lot of potential, so I was not surprised it got picked up.

What about Transparent do you think lends itself to the sound of your album Piano Solos Volume 2, which formed the basis for your theme song?

It’s hard to say why things work sometimes, but I know Jill was listening to this record a lot while writing the scripts. I think it found its way into the DNA of the show. There is an intimacy to those pieces and each character is really on a personal journey, so I think it really helps bring that out.

You recorded the theme song on an old piano, which you also played on Piano Solos Vol. 2. What is special about the piano’s sound? Where did you buy the piano?

This is a really special piano for me. It’s an old Swiss Sabel that I bought in Italy and wrote my first two solo piano collections on. Every piano is so unique. Each one has its own music and I knew that I would only be able get capture this feeling with this instrument. It had this beautiful resonance to it, but it also has a fragility to it that I love.

How did you work with the show’s music supervisor, Bruce Gilbert?

Bruce and I have known each other for a long time, but we have never actually had the chance to work together. Bruce has a great ear and I think really understands the emotional content of music. He was a sounding board for me when I was working out the sound of the show and really also helped communicate with Jill. It could not have gone smoother without him!

How do you think your piano theme works alongside other songs included in the series, the bulk of which are ‘70s rock radio staples from Bob Dylan, Neil Young, JJ Cale, Jim Croce and more?

I think it all works mostly because there is an organicness to the music in the show. This era of music was all mostly recorded with no clicks, live to tape, and this is how I approached the score. I tried to get full takes, not a lot of editing, with no clicks and capture real performances.

What do you think the biggest challenge was with creating the theme song?

I think the biggest challenge was trying to create something memorable that hopefully you would not tire of hearing over and over. A piece of music that would get you in the mood for the show.

What’s next? How will the theme music evolve over coming seasons?

The next season is a really musical one. I have started already and without giving away too much, there is a lot of music already and it’s going to be a good one!

What do you think the theme and soundtrack convey about the Pfeffermans?

We always spoke of the music not as individual themes for the characters, but as something that binds them together. Despite all their flaws, the Pfeffermans have an unconditional love between them and the music is really there to create this feeling.

Do you have a favorite musical moment from Transparent, whether it’s one you’ve written or another song featured in the show?

My favorite music is from the last episode. It happens during the funeral scene and again at the end of the episode. It’s a big come down and it’s one of the more emotional pieces of music. I think it also showed how much the season evolved into something deeper with more layers.

What music do you listen to in your free time?

I don’t have much free time lately, and because I'm working on music all day I try to give my head some space. I did find time to listen to the new Sufjan Stevens album. It’s beautiful.

In an email to all fans who downloaded Star Wars, Wilco stated, "We consider ourselves lucky to be in the position to give you this music free of charge, but we do so knowing not every band, label or studio can do the same. Much of the ‘music business’ relies on physical sales to keep the lights on and the mics up. Without that support, well, it gets tougher and tougher to make it all work.”

Wilco listed their favorite recent records and encouraged their fans to discover and support those artists. “There’s a lot of great music out there, lets all try to support it,” Wilco wrote. “After all, it's the years of support (and purchases) of Wilco's music that allowed us to do what we did last week.”

See Wilco’s favorite new records below. Click the link to stream for FREE in Prime or purchase from Amazon Music. And be sure to download Star Wars for FREE at Amazon.

And that’s a recently-released symphonic reimagining of their 1973 double-album rock opera, Quadrophenia. The new release, called Pete Townshend's Classic Quadrophenia, is orchestrated by his partner, Rachel Fuller, and was recorded with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in October 2014 at London’s Air Studios. Townshend plays electric guitar and makes vocal cameos, while Robert Ziegler conducts and British tenor Alfie Boe handles the bulk of vocals in place of The Who’s frontman, Roger Daltrey. The result is a grand rendition of the band’s tale of the disaffected youth of the 1960s Mod movement in London, and a proper tribute to what Townshend considers his best work ever.

Amazon Music’s programming head Dave Dederer, founding guitarist for Seattle alt-rockers The Presidents of the United States of America and lifelong fan of The Who, sent a series of questions about the classic album to Townshend via email. When Dederer quickly received Townshend’s detailed answers, his response was short and telling: “Wow.” Indeed. Read the in-depth Q&A below.

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To the American eye and ear, Quadrophenia is a very English story, from the setting to the focus on a particularly local subculture (the mods), to the exploration of entrenched class structure. Yet it’s also a classic hero’s journey, in the universal, Joseph Campbell sense.  Did you intend to write an English story when you wrote Quadrophenia? To what extent were you conscious of writing something hyper-local versus something universal?

I was one of those strange children that heard stuff when I was young, right through to the age of 12. I heard orchestral music that my friend the poet Ted Hughes said could have been what he called the music of the spheres. Literally: the sound of outer space resonating in some way. We lose the ability to hear this when we lose our innocence. Indeed one occasion I heard such music on the river Thames that inspired some of the plot of Quadrophenia. When I wrote the original songs it’s perhaps obvious I looked to Wagner for inspiration for some of the instrumental passages that were intended to evoke [the main character] Jimmy’s uneasy mix of paranoia and grandiosity. Elsewhere, where the music is lighter, I refer to Bach (especially his preludes) here and there. The overall story of Quadrophenia was inspired to some extent by one of my favorite English composers, Benjamin Britten. His opera Billy Budd is also about a young man enduring a difficult rite of passage, and is set by the seaside and on the sea itself.

Tommy had a huge presence in the public consciousness from its release through the early ‘90s, thanks to the success of the initial release, the tour behind the album, the Stigwood/Russell film, Elton John’s cover of “Pinball Wizard,” the Broadway musical, etc. Quadrophenia didn’t achieve the same level of cultural omnipresence (especially in the U.S.), yet you and The Who seem to have had a longer and more abiding interest in Quadrophenia versus Tommy or even your original mini-rock-opera, A Quick One, with multiple tours and productions over the last 20+ years.  What is it about Quadrophenia versus other works from your catalog that’s sustained your interest and led to multiple tour revivals?

I am at an age now when a lot of what I do is about archiving. I have been writing songs and stories throughout my career with The Who and because the band had such a long hiatus from 1982 through to 1996 (when we regrouped to tour Quadrophenia as a set piece) there is a logjam of music – not all good, but certainly worth taking care of. In particular I am keen to make sure that my most serious compositions are properly archived and notated (scored) in an accurate way. I want to make sure that musicians in the future can access these scores, and adapt them to various purposes, so that the music will continue to be played into the future. And of course what I want is for it to be played live in front of living audiences. I want the scores to enable performances from the top down as-it-were: a full symphony orchestra with choir at the top, right down to simply piano-vocal charts so that if a music teacher at a school wanted to get students to perform any of my operas they could. Starting with full orchestra scores is a big project, especially as I can’t read music. (I can write it, using computers, but I have never been trained).

I started this work about 17 years ago, mainly looking at my rock operas and mini-operas. Billy Nichols, Sara Lowenthal and Rachel Fuller were the main protagonists in Angelic Ceilings, a group I put together to begin this work. Our first joint project was Lifehouse Chronicles in 2000. Finally, in 2012 I decided to commission someone to start on Quadrophenia. I didn’t have to look far because by this time Rachel Fuller and I had lived together for a long time. Rachel was keen to take this on. By a coincidence I had first met Rachel when The Who were rehearsing at a London studio for the 1996-1997 tour of Quadrophenia that grew out of the charity performance I organized in Hyde Park for the Prince’s Trust, of which I had been a patron and activist since 1982. On that occasion my very old friend Billy (Nicholls) had asked Rachel to orchestrate some of his solo work, and that’s how the connection was made.

The ending of the story is ambiguous.  Did you have a sense of what’s next for Jimmy when you wrote it? If so, what was next? Has that sense changed over the years… do you have a different sense of how the story ends now than you did when you wrote it? To what extent is Jimmy an autobiographical character, or not? If not, perhaps someone you knew?

The story is about a few very difficult days in the life of a young person. We’ve all been there. What is unusual in this case perhaps is that the difficulty becomes a conduit for an explosion of passion, sexual frustration, anger and awkward love. My music seems to be especially good at expressing all this, and The Who’s band members were great at performing it. Audiences respond according to their ability or need to reconnect with this part of their growing up. Or they might simply look back sadly or fondly to the way they got through it all. In literature there are many examples of this kind of inconclusive story. Catcher In The Rye is maybe the most well known. Anyone who is interested in the back story of Quadrophenia can search for my Directors Cut released a few years ago, which contains songs that got away, demos, and a lot of background about the recording.

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Did you work together more as a band than you typically did in composing Quadrophenia, especially with John on the horn parts? What elements of the creative process were collaborative versus being based on demos or finished arrangements you brought in?

You might infer that I played a grand part on the orchestrations on this new version. I played no part at all, apart from trying to make sure the music retained the original mood and harmonic sense of the Who version. However, Rachel was my only collaborator, but she commissioned an assistant, Martin Batchelar, to whom she gave fairly free rein. I didn’t give Rachel that much scope for interpretation. To begin with I just wanted an orchestral representation of what was on The Who album, no extra songs, no frills, no diversions. Rachel was very happy to work faithfully in this way, and I gave her access to the Who’s multi-tracks from 1972-1973 so she could analyze each instrument or vocal part very accurately.

What made this project evolve from one that would have ended up with me holding a ‘folio’ (a book of written music) to a fully fledged recording, was that Rachel decided to do demonstration recordings as she went along, so I would be able to comment and approve what she and Martin were doing. I had asked my friend Hans Zimmer if he could guide Rachel in setting up a composition studio (of the kind Hans uses to write his film scores) and he gallantly invited Rachel to use some time in his London studio. The first track she worked on was “Love Reign O’er Me,” and it sounded spectacular. The conductor Robert Zeigler heard this synthesized demo track and invited us to perform it with Jeff Beck and the BBC Concert Orchestra at Queen Elizabeth Hall in London. Suddenly what had merely been notes written on a score began to take a life as real music. Later, when Mark Wilkinson, the President of the classical label Deutsche Grammophon, heard it, he gave us a deal and recommended Alfie Boe to take the lead role.

The most wonderful surprise was seeing the way musicians from the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra threw themselves into playing this music. The last orchestral sessions I had done had been a while back, and so much has changed now for orchestras. They are challenged all the time, not only by the demands of the usual repertoire like Brahms, Beethoven and Wagner, but also by complex and highly rhythmic and explosive film scores written by the likes of Hans Zimmer. So they only needed a few takes to get the music right. Indeed, it sounded right the first time.

What elements of Quadrophenia do you think hold up the best?  Are there any parts that you think don’t hold up well or that you hear and wish you had omitted or done differently? What’s your favorite track or moment (given the various pastiches and interludes) on the album?

“Love Reign O’er Me” is one of my best songs, and it really shines in this context. But some of the most anarchic songs like “Dr Jimmy” and “I’ve Had Enough” also leap from the speakers. All the way through this project, I have been amazed at how The Who’s music (and some of my own writing) lends itself to orchestral performance. Probably all music would sound wonderful played by a good orchestra. But there are a number of reasons why The Who’s music lends itself. Keith Moon’s style of drumming was almost orchestral, more about decoration, flourishes and celebration than just keeping a beat. Bassist John Entwistle was classically trained on trumpet and French Horn, so his work – especially on The Who’s Quadrophenia – encompassed a complete set of brass instruments, and he made his own arrangements. By the time The Who came to record the original album, Roger’s singing was probably at its peak, and he pulled all the stops to make the words come alive. I was also adept at using analogue synthesizers, especially for orchestral emulation (having used them extensively on Who’s Next).

“There once was a note, pure and easy…” Are there places on Quadrophenia where you feel you hit that note?

The opening piano on “Love Reign O’er Me” was so accurately transcribed by Rachel that I could hardly believe it wasn’t me playing, but from there on it explodes into the most romantic and moving string writing, very much in the ‘English’ style. Alfie’s vocal is astonishing. But the songs I love the most are the ones that prove that it isn’t only rock‘n’roll that can rock: “I’ve Had Enough” and “Dr Jimmy” are both huge blockbuster performances with every instrument in the orchestra getting in on the act, and the effect is literally stunning. The RPO can really rock. With respect to our fans, I asked Rachel to try her best to retain the flourishes and details from the original album, and because Keith Moon and John Entwistle were so dramatic and orchestral in their methods, I believe it worked. With Quadrophenia it also helped that she had the very simple blueprint of my analogue synthesizer emulations of strings and brass.

What do you think has allowed Roger to interpret your songs so powerfully over the years? The words aren’t his but his performances are universally authentic and believable...

He commissioned his own orchestrations in 1994 for a solo tour, and I have to say I was inspired to hear what he achieved. On this project, because it grew right inside my family circle and my domestic relationship with Rachel, who would play me a new bit of work almost every week, there was no opportunity to involve Roger. Our fans and many people involved with Quadrophenia feel a huge propriety over it, and that’s fine by me. But I reserve the right to develop my compositions outside The Who family if I wish. I also want Roger to feel he can do the same with my music, as though it belonged to him, because the part he played in its journey and evolution was so vital. I wished him well when he recently toured Tommy as a solo show.

Along with Who’s Next, many of the tracks on Quadrophenia set the standard for what a studio-recorded “rock” album should sound like, especially the guitar sounds. What was it about the Gretsch 6120 plus Edwards volume pedal plus Fender Bandmaster amplifier that you used in the studio during this time that resulted in so much magic? How much do the equipment and tools matter?

Very early on I realized that when you take two notes on a guitar and distorted it you’re actually producing three notes if not even four. There are sub harmonics by distortion. So my sound is very spare and my chord work is very spare. When we were working on Tommy, Kit Lambert—who’s the son of Constant Lambert, one of the founders of the Royal Festival Ballet and the Covent Garden Opera House—was the producer. Kit really wanted Tommy to be a proper opera. If you listen to the recording, there is hardly any electric guitar on it and that was because he always wanted to add an orchestra to it. And I really fought against that. Subsequently a classical or orchestral version of it was done by a guy called Lou Reizner. I remember sitting and listening to it and thinking, ‘This isn’t perfect. It is not precise to the music that I have written, which I think Rachel’s version of Quadrophenia is, but it made me realize that music is music.’ As my father once said, with a couple of guitars and amplifiers you are replacing an old 14-piece band. You can make more noise; you’ve got less people in the band. And, of course, it was what created the harmonics, distortion and richness of rock music. A couple of guys with a couple of distorted guitars are equal to a huge church organ.

Recording the album brought up a lot of other problems. There were technical issues. I wanted a quadrophonic album so we had to build a quadrophonic studio, as there wasn’t one in London at the time. So we built one and that took about three months. The guy that built it for us used an out-of-work troop of circus performers to build it. The session went quite quickly. I’d spent a long time working on the music before, so I had demos. I had a studio in the country which had a quadrophonic mixing system. So I took the band there and started to work with them. I had synthesizer backing tracks, which I already developed for some other pseudo orchestral elements, violins and horns and oboe. John Entwhistle could play almost any brass instrument with valves and he put on trumpets, baroque trumpets, tubas, sousaphones and all kinds of things to complement what I’d done. By the time we finished, the demos sounded like a massive pseudo orchestra in places. The album was mixed fairly quickly and we went to my studio in the country and a guy called Ron Nevison wanted to become a big record producer in the USA with Jefferson Airplane, Heart and various other heavy rock bands. He and I went into a room, mixed it and took it to rehearsal.

Through its unrivaled run as the longest-airing music television show, ACL Live has presented countless classic performances, from some of the most admired artists in the music world, since its launch in 1974. The ACL Hall of Fame festivities entailed reflection and remembrances, in both speech and song, regarding the legacy of the program and its stars. 

STREAM THE ESSENTIAL WILLIE NELSON FREE IN PRIME MUSIC

ACL's concerts tend to lean toward the rootsy, Americana and folk sounds, and the initial inductees—Willie Nelson and Stevie Ray Vaughn—fit this description. But this year's edition expanded the scope. There were more inductees, more performers, and more productions. The proceedings honored Loretta Lynn, Guy Clark, Flaco Jiménez, Townes Van Zandt, and Asleep at The Wheel. 

STREAM STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN’S CLASSIC TEXAS FLOOD FREE IN PRIME

And he just dropped his 12th solo album, Saturn’s Pattern. On a recent Saturday afternoon, Weller dropped by the Great Escape festival in Brighton to perform a secret set. Though he wasn’t officially billed to perform at the fest, which focuses on breaking new talent, Weller surprised with a 45-minute set focusing on material from his new album—watch a trailer for the full performance below. 

After his set, Weller sat down with Amazon Music to chat about up-and-coming bands, performing live, and his “optimistic” new album.

EXPLORE PAUL WELLER’S LEGENDARY CATALOG AT AMAZON MUSIC

Hey Paul. Great show! Do you get nervous anymore before playing live? Or have the decades of experience calmed them?

We always get nervous. I’ve been nervous for 40 years or more. Whether it’s a small gig or a big gig it doesn’t make too much, it’s the same nervousness. It wouldn’t matter if it was two people, 200 people or 20,000, because it’s the moment of truth when you play live. It’s only you and the audience, there’s no hiding behind anything at all. Every time you go onstage you’re going out to prove yourself, so you can’t afford not to be nervous. Even though it’s annoying at the time, nerves can be a good thing because nerves give you that extra edge.

Do you think young bands, like those playing at the Great Escape, have the same opportunities that The Jam did back in the late-’70s?

It’s a lot tougher for new bands, but there are more places to play live now. It’s tough to get a record deal and it’s even harder to get someone to put money into you, which is what you need when you’re starting out. There’s a lack of development for new bands; major labels don’t nurture young bands. If I had my time now I don’t know if we’d have been signed. I’d like to hope we would have [been signed to a label], but we were lucky to get signed when we did. But the live scene is really healthy at the moment as a new generation discovers live music. Hopefully that will always stay alive. 

It must be difficult to put together set lists, considering the size of your catalog...

We’ve got 40 or 50 songs that we have rehearsed, so we concentrate on the new stuff and put the rest of the songs around that. It’s difficult to know what to leave out, which is a nice problem to have. Playing the new material has made us think differently about the older songs as well. We all feel we’re getting to a different level live and I think there’s a certain discipline about playing a new song; you have to really concentrate and it has an effect on the rest of the songs.

Are you as excited about performing now as you were in the early days?

It’s my work, it’s my job. I’m extremely lucky I’ve got a job that I enjoy doing. It’s a dream to play live. On tour you spend 22 hours a day waiting to perform for two hours on stage, and the rest is just hanging about really. That’s the work side of it—but to play is a joy. The work side is all the preparation and the hanging about.

How do you keep the songwriting process exciting still at age 56?

I still think my greatest song could be ahead of me. That’s the thing that drives you on. Twenty odd albums in and “Going My Way,” a track on the new album, is probably one of the best songs I’ve ever done. I never feel my best moments are behind me because I’m constantly having them, and looking forward to the next one. We started with a blank canvas and built the album from that. We did a lot of experimentation with arrangements. We’d record one piece, a verse, then leave a gap for a bridge or chorus, and edit pieces and then cut them together. You were never really sure if it was going to work until you heard it all together at the end, which was really exciting and different. Sometimes we’d start with just a drum beat and guitar lick and see where it went.

What are you writing about lyrically?

There’s nothing in the world to be optimistic about. The world’s in a really bad place. I can’t think of another time during my lifetime when it was worse and on such a large scale. But I didn’t want to make a record that reflected that; I wanted to make something that was joyful and made people feel good. Hopefully that comes over on Saturn’s Pattern.

On it she expands and beefs up the sound of her lo-fi 2013 breakout debut, Torres, with emotional fury and noisy guitar squall, trading romantic heart wrench for hyper-introspective nitpicking at her self and upbringing in the conservative deep south of Macon, Georgia.

After a stint in Nashville, Torres relocated to Brooklyn and got to work on her followup. She teamed with producer Rob Ellis and recorded Sprinter at his studio in Bridport in Dorset, England and then at the Bristol studio of Portishead’s Adrian Utley. PJ Harvey’s band members Robert Ellis and Ian Olliver play rhythm. The unlikely team is downright explosive.

Torres is featured in Amazon Music’s “The Next” with Sprinter now available to stream for FREE in Prime. Listen while you read our chat with Ms. Scott, who was enjoying a fried chicken lunch in her Bushwick apartment during our call. —WILLIAM GOODMAN

STREAM TORRES’ NEW ALBUM SPRINTER FREE IN PRIME MUSIC

There’s several old sayings about the difficulty of sophomore albums, following the success of a debut release. Did you feel any pressure going into write and record Sprinter?

Once I started writing this album, it was pretty clear that it was going to be a better record than the first one. I felt really confident about that. And I don’t really care what people feel about a sophomore release. I had been thinking a lot over the past couple years about themes that I wanted to write about that I hadn’t written about before. But it was a very confident process.

What are you writing about that’s new for you?

My family and my upbringing. I had been thinking a lot more about things concerning patriotism and more in that world, and definitely less romantic stuff. There are a couple love songs on there, but I wanted to make a record that was much different than the first. I’m really interested in the idea of patriotism.

Oh? Do tell...

I wouldn’t consider myself a patriot. But I’m not anti-American. Growing up in Georgia, in the conservative south, it was really weird. We pledged allegiance to the United States of America and the Christian flag every morning and it was never questioned. And I didn’t question it until later. It’s really f-cked up [laughs].

Why call the album Sprinter?

I wrote all the songs then looked through them to find a word that stood out and encompassed all the themes on the records. Sprinter was that word. I really like that word because it captures the idea of being in motion and in the middle of something. I wanted it to feel open ended, like I’m in transition. I didn’t want [the album title] to feel like there was some finality or some grand statement to it. I prefer the idea of having it be reflective of a passing moment in time.

STREAM TORRES’ NEW ALBUM SPRINTER FREE IN PRIME MUSIC

When did you start writing these songs?

The focused writing process was between January and July of last year. It was this intense period of writing in my apartment. [Beeping sound begins in background] Oh sh-t, sorry. [Fire alarm goes off]. That’s happened three times today! I have fried chicken in the oven. I ordered and it arrived cold, so I put it in the oven…. So, where were we... So, yeah, it was like six months of writing in my apartment. I treated it very much like a 9-to-5 job. I’d get up every morning and make coffee and eat the same breakfast, then write for hours. Then I’d put it down for the day and do it again the next day.

How did you hook up the album’s producer, Rob Ellis?

We met in London a couple of years ago. He came with his manager to the first show I played there. We became friends and stayed in touch via email. I was looking for someone to make the record with last year and I was thinking about [working with him] for a long time, but I didn’t think it would work out. But I asked him just to make sure [laughs]. So I cold emailed him to see if he’d be interested in making the record with me and he said “yes”! It all came together quite nicely.

And you worked with some great musicians on the album, too...

Yeah, they’re Rob’s buddies and we decided going into it that we’d use musicians that Rob could line up to play. I couldn’t afford to bring my own musicians with me to England and I didn’t even have any in mind. Rob said he had friends that he could line up, so I let him arrange that. We recorded in Bridport, just a couple hours outside of London. We were recording for almost three weeks. We didn’t have a lot of free time. We worked morning to late into the evening. But when we did have a little free time I’d go next door to this farm shop where they made local breakfast—they had really good breakfast, coffee and tea every morning. It was really peaceful.

What was the biggest challenge with writing and recording Sprinter?

I’m not a very focused person. I have a hyper active brain and I’m not good with focusing or self-discipline. So I think that was my biggest challenge. I had to create a day job for myself. I had to write every day even if I didn’t feel like it. I had to remain focused. But the recording wasn’t challenging. Arranging all the travel, the financial and logistical stuff is always the hardest part of the music industry for me.

Do you have a favorite song on Sprinter?

Right now it's “New Skin,” because I was just really proud of it when I wrote it. It was one of the first songs that I wrote for the record and it’s been my favorite all through that experience. And having performed it and sat with it for a while, it’s still my favorite. I felt like it said exactly what I wanted it to. One thing I really like about writing is finding new ways to state things concisely and poignantly. It felt like a mature turning point in my writing and it was. The theme is transition and becoming an adult. It’s a turning point, for sure, and I’d never written about anything like that.

You’re touring a lot this year in support of the album. How do you pass time on the road between shows?

I can’t read in the van, unfortunately, which is sad because it’s my favorite thing to do. But I get car sick, so I can’t do that. We listen to music, but I also get really tired of music when I’m on the road and don’t wanna hear it since I’m playing every night. It’s also hard to find private quiet time on the road. You’re always surrounded by people in the van, hotel, venue, so I really just like to have quiet time. I’ll put in ear plugs or listen to an audio book and rest my voice. On my first tour I was really excited about everything and talked nonstop the entire time for 18 days and lost my voice by the end of it. So I don’t do that anymore. I learned a lot of lessons about touring very quickly.

What are you reading these days?

I’m picking books up and putting them down constantly. I like to read a bunch of books at one time. I’ve been trying to read Sex at Dawn for over a year now. It’s called Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality and also The Problem of Pain by CS Lewis.

Anything you were reading that helped shape the record?

A lot of Ray Bradberry and JD Salinger’s Franny and Zoe. This book The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, which strangely encompasses every scene on my new record.

And what are you listening to lately?

I bought No Pussyfooting and I’m getting super into Robert Fripp and Brian Eno, both alone and together. That’s been on the record player for a few weeks now.

What does success as a musician look like for you?

It’s a combination of being personally satisfied, working with people that I admire in the industry, continuing to make records and making a living doing it. I just want to enjoy myself and collaborate with my idols, and have the financial ability to continue to do that. That’s the hardest part—having the means to continue.

Speaking of collaborating with your idols, who’s your dream collaborator?

Probably… hmmmmmmm... Stevie Nicks…

Are you an Amazon shopper? What was your last Amazon purchase?

Yep. And I last bought candles and some used books on Amazon. 

With Gold Star, Rabenreither’s bringing his spaced-out songwriting chops to dusty Americana music—and the result is a total treat!

Rabenreither debuted last year as Gold Star with a five-song EP, and is preparing for the June 2 release of his first full-length, Dark Days, featuring production by Nicolas Jodoin (Black Rebel Motorcycle Club). One of the best tracks on the album is “The Line,” a crunchy, tightly-written rocker that’ll have fans of all stripes, from classic rock diehards to folk-rock devotees, stompin’ feet and bobbin’ heads. In fact, Lucinda Williams is one of Gold Star’s biggest fans and asked Rabenreither to open one of her acoustic shows.

The video for “The Line,” premiered below exclusively by Amazon Music, is a perfect visual fit—simple but iconic, lo-fi but memorable, just like Gold Star’s music. Rabenreither strums front and center, a literal glowing gold star at his feet, as his band rocks out in the back ground. Watch below and be sure to pre-order Dark Days from Amazon Music.

From rock classics by AC/DC and Aerosmith to unexpected gems by ABBA, the Guns N Roses and Velvet Revolver alumnus lists the 100+ albums every man needs to hear, own and appreciate. Here it is. Dig in.

And be sure to check out Duff’s new EP, which is available for purchase or to stream in Prime Music.          

ABBA, Gold: Anyone who is or has been a songwriter will surely testify to the song craftsmanship that makes up the basis of ABBA’s golden, blissful sounds of the ’70s.

AC/DC, Dirty Deeds: Along with the Saints and Radio Birdman, AC/DC kicked our asses from all the way Down Under!

Adam and the Ants, Kings of the Wild Frontier: The Ants’ music was a great left turn for us punk kids back in the ’80s. This record still holds up for its bold-ness in direction and songwriting.

Aerosmith, Aerosmith: I remember looking through an Encyclopedia Britannica back in ’73 or so and read-ing that Aerosmith was America’s answer to the Rolling Stones. Maybe this was an overly simplistic explanation of who they were at the time, but it certainly got me into what became a fascination with early Aerosmith. With scrappy songs like “Make It” showing the earthiness of this band, the majestic “Dream On” seems just so much bigger and more genius. Here’s a kick-ass rock record from tip to stern. If you can find it, also consult Look Homeward Angel—hands down the best real bootleg that I have ever owned.

Alice in Chains, Dirt: When four dudes from Seattle discovered a new thing of their own, they wrote classic rock songs right out of the starting gate. This first record completely annihilated everything else that was around then. Dirt has stood the test of time very well, too. Layne = cool. Jerry = genius. Sean = brilliant. Mike = badass. A timeless record.

The Avengers, The American in Me: 1977 SF punk. Hear it. Bad Company, Bad Company / Free, Best Of: Here’s something I learned just the other day: Paul Rodgers sang his first Free song at the age of sixteen. Sixteen! We’ve all got some catching up to do. Both of these bands should be a staple of every music collection.

Badfinger, Badfinger: This was a magical band with a tragic ending. Some say that Badfinger was cursed, others say that the Beatles wrote their songs for them. Whatever, they were really great.

Bauhaus, Singles 1979–83, vol. 1: What? No, I’m not even going to try. Bauhaus!

The Beach Boys, Pet Sounds: This record is the sound of a band of extremely talented people trying to find a new direction. With success! Pandemonium, both personal and public, surrounded these guys during this time of their career. Instead of saying, “Fuck it,” they melted into the studio and got straight-up genius.

The Beastie Boys, Paul’s Boutique: This record was a complete game changer when hip-hop’s game needed a change.

The Beatles, White Album: It is an impossible task to pick just one Beatles record, of course. But this record was one of the first rock records I ever heard. It taught me to play guitar and bass, so there you go.

Jeff Beck, Blow By Blow: No one will ever be able to play guitar like this again.

Chuck Berry, The Complete Anthology: I got to see Chuck Berry for the first time when I was a sixteen-year-old punk in Seattle. The lines on his face were more punk than anything I’d ever seen.

Biffy Clyro, Opposites: Biffy is a Scottish band that sells out arenas in Europe for a good reason. The song “Black Chandelier” was the standout rock song of 2013 for me. Biffy Clyro is building steam now in the US because, hell, they are fucking fantastic. Thanks for the road trip, guys.

Black Flag, Damaged: When Black Flag released this tour de force in 1982, it immediately went into heavy rotation alongside a T-Bone Burnett record called Truth Through the Night. Inexplicably enough, these two rec-ords really complement each other!

Black Flag, My War: The punk-rock bible. “You say that you’re my friend but you’re one of them. . . . THEM!”

Black Sabbath, Paranoid: When I was growing up in Seattle, there was a serious divide between the Sabbath and Zeppelin fans. If you were from outside of the city, it was Sabbath. For us urbanites, it was ALL about Zeppe-lin. We seemed too smarty-pants for them; they seemed too butt-rock for us. We were all young and dumb and full of cocksureness. The truth is, both of these bands are just so damn different that there is no way to com-pare or contrast them. Actually, you can’t compare any other bands to these behemoths.

David Bowie, Diamond Dogs: It’s easy to forget that David Bowie has constantly morphed and challenged his own pop success. He’s a restless soul who’s never done anything twice. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll pick Dogs as the David Bowie record here. With “Rebel, Rebel” and “Diamond Dogs” as singles, this record is as good a place to start as any.

Jeff Buckley, Grace: My first daughter is named after this record. Yeah, that is how important this music is to me.

T-Bone Burnett, Truth Through the Night: Known mostly as a producer, T-Bone put out this solo master-piece in 1982.

Kate Bush, Lionheart: A beautiful respite from loud guitar and thumping bass.

Buzzcocks, Singles Going Steady: The best singles collection this side of Prince.

Cameo, Word Up! This is the record where Steven Ad-ler and I found the groove for Appetite For Destruction.

Johnny Cash, The Essential Johnny Cash: Johnny is an American classic. A true icon, and someone everyone can agree is badass. “Jackson” alone is worth the price of this record.

Nick Cave, Murder Ballads: Man shit.

Cheap Trick, At Budokan: Maybe the best live record ever. Wait. Maybe? Perhaps because they’re best known for this album—a hard act for any band to follow—their shows are always something to look forward to with loving rocktic-ipation. The Trick has never used tape at shows, and they have never gone to in-ear monitors or other new-fangled onstage technology. They play loud rock music. And no one does it better than Cheap Trick—on record or onstage.

The Clash, The Clash: A band for the people by the people. The Clash took the mystery and inaccessibility out of the equation for fans like me. This is one of the best records to come out of the UK ever. This record was at first an exotic and very grown-up listen for me as a young teen. Yes, some of the messages on this record have been eclipsed by the passage of time, but it acts as a majestic time capsule in those moments. Years later, when I moved to LA, Paul Simonon’s bass-playing on this record helped inform my decision to make the instrument my main axe.

The Cult, Electric: A record that stands the test of time. Great songs. Dry recording. No gimmicks.

Dag, Righteous: Vibe magazine hailed this band as the best R&B band of the decade. No small feat, considering they’re a bunch of white boys from North Carolina.

The Dead Boys, Young, Loud, and Snotty: I discovered this record in the summer of ’79, just as my young ears were coming of age to the trashier sounds of punk rock and roll (as opposed to the English stuff of the Clash, the Damned, the Vibrators, 999, the Undertones, XTC, the Jam, the Pistols, etc.). This was the first in a long line of great records that left me wanting to break stuff.

Death Cab for Cutie, Something About Airplanes: This is what happened when four dudes from Western Washington University decided to see what post-post-postpunk was all about.

The Deftones, White Pony: This band has been plagued by a massive copycat syndrome because what they invented was so damn innovative and kick-ass.

Dr. Dre, The Chronic: This groundbreaking record forever reshaped the face and thump of hip-hop.

Greg Dulli: When it comes to Dulli, I gave up on trying to choose one single record or one single band he has formed. When Mark Lanegan made Imitations in 2012, he played me a 4-track demo of Greg Dulli’s, because Mark was planning on doing a song from it. “Deepest Shade” off of that Imitations record is one of Dulli’s throwaways? Dulli is so talented that his refuse is better than most artists’ best work.

Bob Dylan, The Essential Bob Dylan: If you are new to this planet, Essential is a good place to start to get yourself acquainted with a man named Dylan. No, youngsters, Bob Dylan didn’t cover Guns N’ Roses’ “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.”

Earth, Wind and Fire, That’s the Way of the World: Another band that gave the ’70s its soundtrack.

Faith No More, The Real Thing: The summer this record came out, I was stuck in Chicago writing songs for what would become Use Your Illusion I and II. What a groundbreaking record this was at the time: fresh and vibrant.

Fear, The Record: Maybe you just know these guys from a certain notorious performance on Saturday Night Live. If so, do yourself a favor and give The Record a spin. This is LA punk at its best.

Foo Fighters, Foo Fighters: On this debut, Dave Grohl was finally able to realize his full talents as a songwriter, singer, and guitar player, and the rest of us reaped the benefit. He makes everything seem so damn simple.

Generation X, Generation X: A rock-and-roll gem. Billy Idol, of course, got a lot of attention later on as a solo artist, but Generation X highlighted to us musicians just how fucking good a BAND could be!

Germs, GI: After the Sex Pistols, the Germs took punk music to another level, where hardcore was born. This is perhaps the most important record in rock that the fewest people have heard.

Green Day, Dookie + American Idiot: This band has weathered time well by way of elbow grease and reinvention. No matter what genre Green Day tries out, they know that there has to be a great song at the basis of it. Sorry, can’t pick just one record.

Gutter Twins, Saturnalia: “The Stations” alone is worth the price of the record. It’s a great Sunday morning song that’s a call to arms for humankind. Sorry if I seem a tad grandiose when writing on the Gutter Twins, but Mark Lanegan and Greg Dulli challenge you to think and imagine beyond yourself.

P. J. Harvey, To Bring You My Love: This record took Harvey to another level after her gritty stint with Steve Albini.

Heart, Dreamboat Annie: These ladies have rocked as hard as anyone—and for much longer than most. I once witnessed manly-man Phil Anselmo sing along to a whole Heart set in Atlantic City: dude even teared up more than a few times. Phil is a real man, and Heart is the real deal to this very day.

Hellacopters, Super Shitty to the Max: This band’s kick-ass dirty rock and roll from Sweden perhaps saved a brand of music from extinction.

Jimi Hendrix, Axis: Bold as Love: I found this in my older brother’s stack of records when I was eight. It was sitting all alone without a cover. I put it on and imagined that all things were possible (and realized that I had saved this music from a death of scratches). I still have that disk, and I’ve found a cover for it.

Billy Idol, Rebel Yell: The punk-rock singer makes it big! Billy Idol has been an important person in my life for as long as I can remember. Musically, he’s always been an inspiration. But, in my dark days, he was a source of strength. He remains a good friend and mentor to this day.

Iggy and the Stooges, Raw Power: How can you lose here? “Search and Destroy” and “Raw Power” are two of the most dangerous rock songs of all time. This record sets a good tone for a new rocker. It’ll shake out all of that bad taste in rock music. This record should act as a barometer.

Iggy Pop, The Idiot: I wouldn’t be the one to say this is Iggy’s best record (because there are so many good ones), but this collection of songs may be the fairest representation of the man at a creative high.

Etta James, The Essential Etta James: I didn’t get into Etta until Black Flag’s Dez Cadena introduced me when I was about thirty-two. She is the soul of soul.

Jane’s Addiction, Ritual de lo Habitual: I pick this record simply because “Three Days” is among the most mind-blowing rock epics ever recorded.

Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, I Love Rock and Roll: My old band, the Fastbacks, opened up for JJ and the BH in a tiny club in Seattle just weeks before the single “I Love Rock and Roll” skyrocketed to number one in America. She was cool when she was playing clubs, and she remained cool through it all.

Elton John, Yellow Brick Road: Such an epic collection of sounds and musicianship. Many a rock road trip has been made easier for me by listening to this record on repeat.

Joy Division, Closer: I loved this record at first listen as a teenager. Still do.

Killing Joke, Killing Joke: This is a sinister and mesmerizing study in just how good a band can be. Before there was a label attached to electronic music, Killing Joke invented a genre and mastered it in the same breath. And, yes, this is a breathless record.

KISS, ALIVE! She’s a Capricorn and I’m a Cancer! While we’re on the topic of KISS, let me tell you something you don’t know about Gene Simmons. He’s a kick-ass dancer. Backstage on a tour of South America with a bunch of top-flight talent a couple years ago, Sebastian Bach plugged in his iPod to a rather large boom box and cranked up some Boz Scaggs followed by Sly and the Family Stone. Gene suddenly appeared and started dancing . . . really well. He did some disco dancing, the mashed potato, the twist, the hustle, and some good ol’ stripper dancing. We all stood rather agape at this spectacle. The God of Thunder has real and bona fide SOUL. Who knew!?!?!

Korn, Korn: This band’s debut was as groundbreaking as anything since Chuck Berry sang “Maybellene.” Jonathon’s creepy and quirky voice on top of drop C tuning took dark to a different place.

Mark Lanegan, The Winding Sheet: If you have yet to get a chance to hear any of Mark’s solo records, do yourself the big favor now. The ferocity that is his voice and cracked soul is sure to mesmerize. Trust me on this one. The Winding Sheet is a good place to start.

Led Zeppelin, The Complete Studio Recordings: Why mess around with just one of Led Zeppelin’s records when you can get the whole deal in one go? This multi-disc musical tome includes live recordings that you’ll be glad you have once you go completely Zeppelin crazy. These guys created the soundtrack to my life in the ’70s, and they continue to be a major part of my musical diet. Seeing these guys at the Kingdome was definitely one of the true rock moments that I have drawn upon in my professional life. I can’t possibly say enough about the rhythm section of John Paul Jones and John Bonham. Shit, man, when Bonham’s drum solo started, I smoked a joint, went to the hot dog line, waited in line, got my hot dog, came back to my seat, and ATE my hot dog, and Bonham was STILL doing his drum solo! Perhaps not as eloquent a picture as I was trying to portray here, but funny nonetheless!

Marilyn Manson, Portrait of an American Family:  I first saw these guys open for Danzig around 1995. Sure, sure, Alice Cooper did this thing in the late ’60s and early ’70s, but Manson and his band were straight creepy and hailed from Florida’s swamplands—citing mass murderers as their influences. Dark. Essential.

Johnny Marr, The Messenger: Once in a while you get to talk to someone or have an experience that positively readjusts your own view of things. A conversation I had with Johnny Marr (the Smiths, the Cribs, Modest Mouse) on the occasion of the release of his solo de-but, The Messenger, was one of those experiences for me. This is a man whose position in rock-and-roll history is secure. A man who could dine out on his considerable back catalog for the rest of his life. But he’s restless. He’s not done. This is a man who put out his solo debut when he was forty-nine years old! Johnny Marr is an inspiration, a kid in the candy store of life grabbing as much as he can. Johnny didn’t want to talk about whether or not his “old band” was getting back together again, and neither did I. We’ve both been through that before. I wanted to know where his songs came from, where his unmistakable sound came from. I wasn’t disappointed. “My family was obsessed with records,” he told me. “So as a little boy, my favorite toy was a little toy guitar. So I had a thing for the guitar much younger than all of my mates. I would think about the shape of it and all of that—it wasn’t for the fame and fortune or getting girls or anything, I really just loved this little wooden guitar as a boy. I would always be upgrading that.” This is a man dashing headlong into the still- mysterious and exciting arena of writing new songs and playing with musicians who inspire him. He is as excited about plugging in a guitar now as when he was fourteen years old. When Marr talks about being as inspired to make music today as he was as a kid, there’s honest excitement in his voice—not the blasé and predetermined excitement of some veteran trying to simply “pimp” a new record. Johnny Marr is an original, and a damn fine gent.

Marr lived in Portland during the Modest Mouse run. He jammed with that band because he was completely mystified about what and who influenced them. His wanderlust for musical exploration leads him just as strongly now as when he was a teen taking trains across Manchester to jam with some dudes he didn’t even know. Moving back home to Manchester in 2010 with his wife and family, Johnny got a large dose of the gravity and familiarity of returning to a place of comfort and invention. The songs for The Messenger were born on his trip home. Johnny Marr is the anti–guitar hero: an inventor, an explorer, and a guy who seems to fully “get it” as far as his place in the mix. He is a regular guy with an irregular past—and an uncommon ability to make great music. Curtis Mayfield, Superfly: Curtis Mayfield is one of the unsung heroes of the early ’70s civil rights movement. His social commentary by way of song painted a vivid picture of the black inner city. “Freddy’s Dead” is the best of the best. Metallica, Master of Puppets: Impossible to pick just one Metallica record, but this one rocks the hardest from front to back.

Mother Love Bone, Mother Love Bone: This bitter-sweet record got me through some tough times when I found myself on the losing end of vice. Mötley Crüe, Too Fast for Love: This was a rock record that all of us punkers could identify with back in ’81. On the heels of Motörhead’s Ace of Spades, TFFL opened up more possibilities for what was next to come.

Motörhead, Ace of Spades: When I was a youngster and Motörhead’s Ace of Spades came out, all of us in the Seattle punk-rock scene instantly recognized the weight of the band and Lemmy Kilmister, its bassist, singer, and songwriter. They embodied all that was good and great about rock and roll: snarling vocals and to-the-point lyrics. Drummer Phil “Filthy Animal” Taylor pounded the FUCK out of the drums; Fast Eddie Clarke complemented it all with his no-nonsense and very LOUD guitar playing. Motörhead always seemed more punk than metal because they were always in on the joke. Too many other metal bands took it all much too seriously back then. When I moved down to LA in 1984, it was the influence of guys like Lemmy, Phil Lynott, and, as I’ve already mentioned, Paul Simonon that steered me to choose bass, back when I was still a somewhat able drummer and guitar player. I was going to Hollywood to sort of “invent” myself, and I chose bass playing as the coolest of the rock-instrument triumvirate because, hell, it was the baddest choice back then (to me at least). And  it  wasn’t  just  my  choice  of  playing  bass  that Lemmy and Motörhead influenced. Dare I say that without Motörhead, there would have been no Metallica, GN’R, Nirvana, Alice in Chains, NIN, or everything between and after. Yeah, they mean that much. For proof, check out the documentary Lemmy: 49% Motherfucker, 51% Son of a Bitch.

There is a moment in the documentary where Dave Grohl states very eloquently what Motörhead means to him and the rest of us in the audience. To paraphrase, Grohl talks about the “humanness” of Lemmy. Boils and all, Lemmy lets us know that you don’t have to be perfect and beautiful and polished to a shine to succeed in this life. Motörhead makes me both exceedingly happy and somehow ashamed. The happy part is obvious in that Motörhead helps us all to exorcise some demons through the art form of balls-out rock and roll. But also, watching the movie and seeing Lemmy progress throughout the film, it dawned on me that this guy has always just stuck to his guns and never bit in to a trend or a new technology, recording-wise. Most of us just sort of naturally change with the times: our style of dress, our take on life and love, the bars we go to, and all. Lemmy has changed nothing, bringing to the fore the fact that he just had it right from the beginning.

Nashville Pussy, Let Them Eat Pussy: This Kurt Bloch–produced masterpiece shoved a middle finger up the ass of all the band’s pretenders. Greasy and bloody and fun, for sure.

The New York Dolls, Too Much Too Soon: This record became the bible for bands like the Pistols, the Damned, and the Clash.

Nine Inch Nails, The Downward Spiral: This is one of the most musically brilliant records ever made . . . ever. Trent Reznor melded technology, melody, anger, tenderness, and mystique into a continuous and digest-ible epic. The guy somehow finds a way to constantly get better and expand his art to this day. Incredible.

Nirvana, Nevermind: Since Nirvana was GN’R’s label mate at Geffen, I was able to get a prerelease cassette of this record. I remember driving around LA cranking the fuck out of it. I wore out my cassette and had to get an-other one. I used to brag to anyone who would listen that these guys were from “my town” and that soon the rest of the world would realize that people didn’t live in tepees in Seattle! Borrowing and perfecting all of the best from the punk-rock bands before them and then adding an angled angst and song craftsmanship of their own, Nirvana simply owned it all, turning on a world full of youth who could relate.

N.W.A., Straight Outta Compton: There are few timeless rap records from this era, but N.W.A. was more than just a band for the time. They had a message and found the sound to carry it forth. Bad as all hell.

Outkast, The Love Below: I played bass along to this record every night before we played on VR’s first full summer tour (’04). What an amazing journey this record takes the listener on. Here is to more of this from Andre 3000!

Pearl Jam, Ten: A record that made personal politics and caring for others okay. Pearl Jam somehow fused kick-ass rock with a Seattle-ness and a PC ethic.

The Police, Ghost in the Machine: They had us at “Roxanne,” but then this gigantic record came out, and the Police became a worldwide sensation.

Prince, 1999: A by-product of the fact that I grew up in a very large family and spent much of my teen years in group environments like bands and sports is that I never had a chance to get comfortable being by myself. This caught up to me as I transitioned into adulthood. In 1982, when I was eighteen, I went through a sea change in my life. My mom had sold my childhood home, I no longer lived with either of my parents, and I felt unrooted. I could feel the beginnings of the breakup of my first real relationship with a serious girlfriend. There were also drugs cascading into Seattle, and I was losing a lot of close friends to the pull of narcotics. I felt alone for the first time in my life. I was a guy who played different instruments in different bands, and a friend of mine who was a big fan of Prince early on turned me on to Controversy and Dirty Mind. He thought I might relate to the genius multi-instrumentalist from Minneapolis. The records were groundbreaking and forward thinking. I was hooked. When 1999 came out later that year, I found a respite and safe haven between the grooves of the epic double album. It didn’t matter that the topics of “Little Red Corvette” and “Something in the Water” didn’t directly relate to me and my situations; it was the intent and drama and impossibility of how good this record was that made me start to think that maybe ANYTHING was possible in my own life, too. I could rise and get through all this messy teenage young-adult stuff, with a little help from this re-cord, which became the soundtrack of my life through 1983. When I decided to move to LA on my own, 1999 (by then on cassette) became my traveling companion and best friend. Since then, many records by different artists have become the soundtracks of different eras of my life, but nothing has had such an impact and given me confidence and be-alone and stay-alone capabilities. I owe a lot to this record. Thankfully, my need and training for being alone has passed. I am a happy family man nowadays, and I find my-self surrounded, all of the time, by my girls, dogs, and stinky rock bandmates. But Prince’s music remains a touchstone for me, and 1999 will always hold a special place in my soul. It gave me strength, and it gave me friendship. It made me work harder for the things I wanted to attain. It was the sturdy vessel that protected me in those choppy and scary waters of my coming-of-age sea change.

Queen, Sheer Heart Attack: If “Stone Cold Crazy” were the whole makeup of this record, it’d still make this list. But every song of this record is the result of the forging of brilliant song craftsmanship and unmatched musical talent. Queens of the Stone Age, Rated R: This record single-handedly saved rock and roll in the early 2000s. This record would have stood up against most in any era, but the timeliness of Rated R was a welcomed relief from the drag and hum of the crap that was going on then.

The Ramones, Ramones: Do I really have to say anything at all? The Ramones careened into the New York scene with nary a clue of how to play more than three or four chords. But they made those chords rip and count. “Blitzkrieg Bop” is one of the most solid rock songs ever written. The Ramones can never ever be overlooked for their importance in modern rock music.

Lou Reed, Rock n Roll Animal: This record scared the shit out of me when I was thirteen. I imagined New York as this dirty and terrifying place with heroin on every corner. But something about “Sweet Jane” inspired a hope. Imagery like this is rarely found in recent times.

The Refused, The Shape of Punk to Come: This is still one of the records I like to spin for the crowd before I take the stage. It’s a jaw-dropping collection of angry and varied music from a group of musicians who were simply masters of their art.

The Rolling Stones, It’s Only Rock and Roll: When I wasn’t listening to 1999 during my move from Seattle to Hollywood, it was It’s Only Rock and Roll that kept me awake on my nonstop drive and kept me company when I was lonely down there in Hell-A. This cassette and my little ghetto blaster were both stolen out of my car a couple of weeks after the move. Ah, welcome to the jungle? (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) This record set the tone for what cool should sound like. “Short and Curlies”? Yeah, she’s gotchu by the balls.

The Saints, I’m Stranded: Before the Sex Pistols made  the genre  popular  worldwide,  there  was a  little punk-rock  band  from  Brisbane,  Australia,  writing  the songs that would influence so many.

Sam and Dave, Rhino Hi Five: Booker T and the motherfuckin’ MGs! Screaming Trees, Sweet Oblivion: Another great band with Mark Lanegan on vocals, the Screaming Trees put out a bunch of fine records, so get them all. Such a different feel and intent than what was the norm back in the early ’90s, and this record has withstood the test of time.

The Sex Pistols, Never Mind the Bollocks: This rec-ord changed the way we all thought about rock music. NEXT!!!

Slayer, Reign in Blood: Angel of Death!!! They don’t mince words and they don’t mince the rock.

Slipknot, Volume 3: If you have time for only one song here, make it “Prelude 3.0,” a dark and beautiful epic song that showcases the power that Slipknot was just beginning to toy with.

Sly and the Family Stone, Fresh: This album epito-mizes what groove and funk are about at their primal best. Take special note of “If You Want Me to Stay.” KILLER!

Soundgarden, Down on the Upside: This record was the culmination and pinnacle of all of the talent that this group of men pushed and pulled out of each other during their first era. I’m so glad they’re back for round two!

Spiritualized, Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating Through Space: A great groove album to just sort of mellow yourself out with. I put the title track on when things get a little too hectic in life.

Stiff Little Fingers, Inflammable Material: Real unpolished OG punk with a message.

Sweet, Desolation Boulevard: The blueprint of rock fantasy.

The Temptations, Greatest Hits: Do I really need to say anything about the Temps?

Thin Lizzy, Dedication: The Very Best of Thin Lizzy: Oh, Rosalie! I really, really love this band. A few years ago when I was in Dublin, on tour with VR, I stumbled out of my hotel one morning in search of some coffee. As I took a sleepy turn to my left, I ran smack into a life-size bronze statue of singer Phil Lynott. When I got back to the hotel lobby, the desk manager asked me if I saw the statue of “de goy prom Tin Lizzy?” Indeed, I had.

Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers, L.A.M.F.: A whole generation of us learned to play guitar the right way from this record. We also learned to tuck our pants inside our boots.

The Time, Ice Cream Castle: Back when Prince had at least three different musical projects going at one time (Vanity 6, too), the Time was almost as big as the al-mighty Purple One. “Ice Cream Castles” is a lost gem and a cool summer jam. Enjoy!

U2, Joshua Tree: This record was not just the soundtrack to my summer of ’87 but it got me through all of the cra-ziness that was surrounding Guns N’ Roses that year. My best friend died that summer, and U2 seemed to speak to me and only me, steeling my sorrow and tempering my sadness. This record still holds an important place in my heart.

Van Halen, Van Halen: Game changer.

The Vibrators, Pure Mania: With  songs  like  “Pet-rol,” “You Broke My Heart,” and “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,” Pure Mania was a favorite record to put on just before we wrecked a house or played beer curling at a punk-rock house party. Punk, for sure, but also consider this one of the best pop records ever written.

Tom Waits, Mule Variations: What the hell is he do-ing in there?

Jack White, Blunderbuss: Creativity knows no bounds with Jack White. And while the rest of us may think that the guy just can’t sit still (what, eight different band projects in the last dozen years?), success is pretty much all that he does. Jack’s first true solo venture is one of those records that makes you feel like you are in the same room as the players. The sounds and riffs are authentic and hearken back to some Levon Helm/the Band-isms, sounding current and urgent at the same time. If you delve into the word choices, rhyme schemes, and subject matter of the lyrics for Blunderbuss, you will find a smart, dark, and hip trip into the blackness of love found, lost, and finally disposed of.

The Who, Who’s Next: Another band that is kind of stupid to pick one record, but this one has “Baba O’Riley,” soooo . . .

X, Los Angeles: Sometimes a record comes out that just sends everything into a new direction. Rock changed af-ter Los Angeles came out.

XTC, Drums and Wires: The beginning of postpunk was this record. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Fever to Tell: Great songwrit-ing, production, and Karen fucking O!

Zeke, Flat Tracker: I had just left GN’R and returned to Seattle when this record came out. I felt delirious that OG punk rock had come back in the form of Zeke.

ZZ Top, Tres Hombres: Kick-ass American blues from down Texas way.

Blur’s reunion album got started on a lark. The band traveled to the Far East to perform in a music festival, but soon found themselves half way around the world, when the concert was suddenly canceled. The quartet made the best of the situation. They rented a small studio in the Nanking section of Hong Kong and started jamming on new material: “It was a series of fortunate events,” says guitarist Graham Coxon.

“It was completely unselfconscious,” adds bassist Alex James of the sessions. “There was no sense of pressure. It was like, ‘Let’s just go into the studio and play because there’s nothing else to do after you’ve been shopping in Hong Kong.”

Watch the full making-of clip below, then stream Blur’s The Magic Whip for FREE in Amazon Prime Music, and revisit the band’s earlier albums, including Parklife and Blur, which are also available in Prime Music.

Back in 2002 during his gig at the Ryman, the shambolic and oft-grouchy singer-songwriter confronted his heckler head on: he order the lights on, cursed out the guy, and refused to continue playing until security booted the dude. Adams even granted the guy a full refund for his ticket.

But Tuesday night Adams delivered, strumming an acoustic rendition of the similarly-named Canadian rock star’s 1984 anthem to the laughs and hollers of the crowd. Makes ya wonder what happened to the original heckler, right?

Watch below, then stream Ryan Adams’ Heartbreaker and live compilation Live After Deaf for FREE in Prime Music.

Check out the video for “Sound & Color” below. It’s a wild ride: a futuristic astronaut awakens from a deep cryogenic-style sleep on his spaceship to find himself alone and off course by, according to his computer’s calculations, over 500 years (the future is, like, so futuristic, you guys). He thinks back to his terrestrial family as he realizes his food rations are stale, then, in a fit of hopelessness and despair, witnesses from the window of his vessel a beautiful moment in the vast abyss of space: an intergalactic sunrise no other human has ever witnessed before.

Be sure to pick up Sound & Color at Amazon Music in digital, CD or vinyl formats.

This seems even more pronounced for artists, who take pieces of everything they experience with them into their own creations. With that in mind, we want to know how reading and literature influence your favorite musicians and the songs they’ve written.

Hamilton Leithauser, former frontman for The Walkmen, discovered books primarily in adulthood. The musician, who unveiled his solo album Black Hours last summer, didn’t read much as a kid, but has since found a deep love for both contemporary literature and the classics. We spoke with Leithauser about how writing inspires him, what he prefers to read and what books his kids ask for every night at bedtime. —Emily Zemler

What sorts of books were your entry point into reading?

I was into nerdy stuff when I was little. Fantasy stuff. I really liked The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I read that whole series. When I got a little older, like in high school, I didn’t read a single book. I remember taking the final exam about Gulliver’s Travels and I hadn’t opened the book.

Did you pass high school?

I passed. I got really good at bullsh-tting on essays. That was the best thing I learned in high school, actually. So they taught me something.

What was the moment you started reading because you enjoyed it?

That would be when I got to college. I turned a corner. I started a course at Boston University based on the Columbia University “great books” course and it went through big books in history. The Epic of Gilgamesh, The Odyssey, Crime and Punishment. That got me interested in reading. I had a lot of catching up to do from high school.

What types of books are you drawn to now?

I’m all over the map. In the last two years I tried to read as many brand new books as I could find because I thought I was getting bogged down in the ‘70s. I was reading so much John Updike and John Cheever and I wanted to see what was out there now, only books written in the last five years. That was really fun. I read a lot of books I didn’t like, but it was fun to feel current.

What was the best one?

I really liked Dave Eggers’ new book, The Circle. All his books, actually. Recently I read Joshua Ferris’ Then We Came To An End. That was pretty funny. I read a lot of poetry too. I love WH Auden, Charles Simic, Robert Lowell, Elizabeth Bishop. I buy all sorts of poetry books. But having two kids will really cut into your reading time. I’ve noticed that this year.

Do your read to your kids a lot?

Yeah, we do. Every night. The same stories over and over again. I can do Big Red Barn by Margaret Wise Brown with my eyes closed. And same with Amelia Bedelia.

Do the things you read make their way into your songwriting?

I find that when I read more I can write more music. I don’t just steal lines directly although maybe I do subconsciously. I do find that when I read less, I write less. I’ve never been able to say why. It seems to always be true. I’ve never directly referenced a book or an author in a song, though. But I read a lot of John Updike and Martin Amis and those guys are all so funny. If you read a bunch of those in a row, you notice the influence. If you’re constantly reading those things it puts you constantly in that mindset and then I want to write something I find funny.

What book have you re-read the most times?

I’ve read London Fields by Martin Amis a lot of times. I read Stoner by John Williams a bunch of times.

Is there a book you’ve always meant to read, but just never gotten around to?

I’ve never been able to complete Ulysses by James Joyce and I probably never will. I didn’t read it in school and the times I’ve tried I haven’t finished it. And I’ve read some big books, like Infinite Jest, end notes and everything, and The Recognitions. I also tried to read Proust and I just did not know what was going on. So I never finished the series.

Is there one book you would recommend to fans of your music?

Butler’s excellent debut solo release, Policy, is Amazon Music’s Album of the Week. Buy it now for only $6.99.

The authorized doc will air on HBO on May 4. According to a press release, it features "dozens of Nirvana songs and performances as well as previously unheard Cobain originals," plus "no-holds-barred access to Kurt Cobain’s archives, home to his never-before-seen home movies, recordings, artwork, photography, journals, demos, personal archives, family archives and songbooks."

In addition, the film will feature a never-before-released, 12-minute-long acoustic Cobain track. 

Watch the trailer below and stream Nirvana’s acclaimed debut, Bleach, for FREE in Prime Music. And visit Amazon Music’s Instagram account to see previously-unpublished photos of a Nirvana concert.