A Loophole In My Dreaming

“I wish that they'd swoop down in a country lane late at night when I'm driving. Take me on board their beautiful ship, show me the world as I'd love to see it.” - Subterranean Homesick Alien

Some time in 1995 I went on a church mission trip to the Philippines. I was accompanying an evangelist and a group of volunteers that wanted to visit various burgeoning churches and help people in need. My job was to play guitar and sing for awhile before the evangelist went up to speak. It was an interesting trip to say the least. On one occasion, I played and sang in front of the biggest crowd I've ever performed for. After I performed (believe it or not), I was swarmed and asked to signed autographs for about 15 minutes before I was ushered off to move on to the next speaking engagement. I didn’t even really have an autograph, so I just signed my name in the most autographesque way I could imagine. One girl told me that I had a "golden voice". None of this went to my head (I'm lying; it totally did). I caught the bug. After that trip, I was obsessed with writing and performing songs. I wanted it before, but after that trip I NEEDED it.

Whoops, sorry. This post is supposed to be about Radiohead.

While in the Philippines we were holed up in a hotel for about two days due to some kind of insurgent activity that was going on outside. We were told that we might be kidnapped if we left the hotel, so naturally we stayed inside. There was a common area downstairs where we had our meals and conversed with one another. The hotel staff played music to liven the mood, but all they seemed to have on hand was one Steve Perry solo album, so after awhile the music became less soothing and more of a deterrent to going downstairs. Luckily the hotel had cable, so I spent a lot of time watching Asian television, including MTV Asia.

Keep in mind, this was 1995, so MTV still played music videos.

I was familiar with Radiohead to a certain extent. I had heard "Creep" and parts of their first album, "Pablo Honey" but I didn't own it and hadn't listened to them extensively. Their second album, "The Bends" had released that year, so "High and Dry" and "Fake Plastic Trees" were in heavy rotation at the time on MTV Asia. I really dug the vibe so, when we were finally able to leave the hotel room, I ventured out to a mall in Manila and purchased a CD copy of "The Bends".

You guys...that album blew my 16-year-old mind. I loved it so much that I listened to it any chance I could get for the rest of that trip, on the plane ride home and, you know...for the rest of my life.

Whoops, sorry. This post is supposed to be about Radiohead's third album, "OK Computer".

OK Computer was released in 1997. Y2K was just around the bend, and paranoia surrounding technology and big brother were becoming a rising concern. Mental health issues were something that you DID NOT discuss. Alienation and fear were just something that you pretended that you didn't feel. You smiled, you moved on and you didn't complain. That is, unless you were Radiohead. OK Computer fearlessly dove headfirst into those topics (and more!), wrapped them in a creamy layer of musical genius and shot them directly into my 18-year-old brain stem.

Listening to OK Computer was CATHARSIS. It was as if these guys had some kind of inside line to what was making me anxious and decided to write 12 expertly crafted songs about each one of them.

This album is essential. This band is even more essential. I chose OK Computer for this list because I feel like it's their magnum opus, but every one (well, except maybe one *cough king of limbs cough*) of their other albums is beautiful and I don't know what/where/who I would be if I hadn't fallen in love with them in 1995 Manila. How else would I know that there were other people out there - smart and talented people - that felt like they didn’t QUITE belong on this planet anymore than I do?

"Maybe we could even get together. Maybe you could break my heart next summer." - Why Bother?

Remember what it was like to be completely confused about relationships, how they work, how to make them last and why a person should even risk getting hurt again and again just to be in one? Boy oh boy am I glad THOSE days are over.

Just kidding! I still have no damn clue.

Released 5 days before my 18th birthday, Weezer's second album hit me at a crucial time in my emotional development. This album is what anxiety sounds like. It hurts. It ACHES. Its themes of alienation, fear, longing and frustration strike a chord (no pun intended) of despair at the center of my soul that I would typically try to keep hidden from the rest of the world.

Rivers Cuomo (who once referred to this album as a "hugely painful mistake") has never felt more raw or vulnerable than he does here, practically spewing emotions and screaming at...himself? The universe? All of the girls that he loved, wished he had loved, wished had loved him and wished he had never met?

Pinkerton is an honest representation of a young man's pain, and listening to these songs helps me remember that it's ok to feel and to express emotions, regardless of how ugly or embarrassing they may be.

"I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea if by random whim, one occurs to me" - I Should Be Allowed To Think

This band was like lyrical catnip for a nerdy, cerebral kid like me. My brain never stops whirring and churning and the songs on They Might Be Giants' albums are bursting with a similar energy, making them very satisfying to my ears, heart, brain and other various and sundry sensory organs. Every song feels different from the last; every album an exploration into a seemingly endless supply of themes, rhythms and sonic landscapes.

I chose John Henry for this list mainly because it was their first album using a full band, but really it's a stand in for their first 8 or so albums, which were all essential listening for me upon release (I discovered their 80's work after hearing their third album, 1990's Flood).

They Might Be Giants taught me that you can write a good song about ANYTHING, that it's cool to be a functioning nerd and that it doesn't matter if anyone else "gets it" as long as you "get it".

Also, this album slaps!

"It's these little things, they can pull you under, Live your life filled with joy and wonder" - Sweetness Follows

My inner baseline is melancholy, and this album was its first soundtrack. Sure, I can be fun and silly (like "The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight") and passionate (like "Ignoreland") or even whimsically observational (like "Man on the Moon"), but the living, breathing core of my being typically functions on the same wavelength as "Try Not to Breathe", "Sweetness Follows" and, of course, "Everybody Hurts."

This album was released the week after my 14th birthday, but I'm fairly certain that several months went by before I realized what it really was. I'd only heard "Shiny Happy People" and "Stand" and assumed that R.E.M. were a jingly jangly pop group (I mean, they have that side to them, which I appreciate now). I didn't take them seriously. I was an idiot.

Mike, my childhood best friend LOVED R.E.M. I honestly can't listen to this band without thinking of him. He passed away a few years ago and R.E.M.'s discography was played after his funeral. His death was a raw, tragic thing that I don't think I ever fully processed. It still feels like there's a hole in my life where he used to be.

Mike convinced me that this album was a work of art. He was correct. It's a true gem; a desert island choice; musical comfort food. I became obsessed with them after that, diving headfirst into their back catalog and looking forward to every future release until they stopped making records. They were and always will be one of my favorite bands, and this album will always mean the world to me.

Yes, I'm making this about me instead of talking about the album because this is my album. I am happy to share it with everyone else, but it's a part of me now. When the rest of the world becomes too much to bare and I'm all out of ideas, I know I can still put on my headphones, listen to "Nightswimming", stare into the cosmos and center myself. Oh, oh, but sweetness follows...

[This is the first entry in a series tentatively titled "The Albums That Made Me". It will be fun to see if I finish it, but HEY I’m planning on it!]

"When I was an alien, cultures weren't opinions" - Territorial Pissings

On September 24, 1991 (the day that Nevermind was released) I was 5 days away from turning 13. Music was already very important to me at that age, but I had no idea how much more important it would become.

I was a weird kid. I always felt different and uncomfortable in my own skin and inside my own head (I was good at hiding it), and most of the late 80's/early 90's hair rock, pop and hip hop that my friends were listening to failed to express the way that I personally felt about the complicated emotions that were swirling around in my brain. I had yet to discover what all was out there (R.E.M., The Smiths and the Cure WERE out there, and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT).

Kurt Cobain was 13-year-old me's gateway to the idea that art could be a powerful tool for expressing one's inner thoughts and demons. He wasn't just rebelling for the sake of rebelling (like most metal/punk I had heard up until then). He was expressing raw, unfettered emotion in a way that I just didn't realize was possible through music.

It's dumb to think that one of the best selling and most influential albums of the 90's is underrated, but I think it's underrated. It's a timeless, painful, beautiful portrait of broken emotions and alienation tied up in a box of noise, melody and tears. This album came seemingly out of nowhere and assured me that I wasn't weird or alone; I just hadn't been looking in the right places. I love it.

In honor of Rick Astley's latest hit single, "Dance", I decided to create a playlist of songs that contain (or allude to) the word "dance" in the title. Go amuse yourselves...or not.