Wax Ecstatic: The 100 Greatest Albums of All Time Part #7

Albums 40-31

and

Sep 25, 2024

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Good morning!

Here’s an affectionate attempt at ranking their records with the understanding that placing things you love in a rigid hierarchy is objectively insane
~Elizabeth Nelson

Welcome to Part 7!

And we’re back with another 20 records! Today, we’re looking at spots 40-31. As mentioned before, the smaller the number, the more at stake. The time for taking a flyer on a pick has long passed. There’s no question that each of these albums has earned a spot on this list. What is up for debate is how best to honor them. As I wrote each one up, I started wondering: would an objective review be best here? How about a more personalized account?

In the end, and took a clear stand and…did a little of both.

I think that most accurately reflects what we listen to and how we consume it. Not everything is cut and dried; not everything fits in a nice little box. I don’t “only” listen to 1-2 specific genres; I doubt you do either. You can hear some of these often in my house. A couple I haven’t played in years before this project. One was uncomfortable to listen to, even though I still knew just about every word on it. Tastes aren’t static.

Times change, people change. Music is no exception.

But it’s the music you’re here for, not my musings on the shapeshifting of cultural mores. In the immortal words of music legend Jerry Reed, we’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there. Let’s drop the hammer and get to it.

Enjoy!

KA—

Be sure to check out the playlist as well! We’re adding selected tracks from the records covered here each week. It’s best enjoyed on shuffle.

P.S. Need to get caught up? Check out Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. All of Sam’s are here.

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40: Spoon- They Want My Soul (2014)

True story: there used to be a time when Twitter was fun. Sure, it was already being referred to as a hellspace, but it hadn’t yet become a swamp lousy with porn bots and conspiracy theorists— it was still a decent place to find new music & connect with like-minded fans. If you were itchin’ for a fight, you never had to look long, but even those could be fun. One of my favorites was a thread asking people to make their case for their favorite Spoon record.

For a consistently consistent band, calling They Want My Soul a statement record seems weird, but it is. From the opening drums on “Rent I Pay,” TWMS is a record that demands listeners sit up and take notice. In exchange for your time, the band gives you a well-produced record, but one that takes care not to smooth out every edge. Looking effortless takes a lot of work, and the band’s labor pays off here.

A common knock against Spoon is that the songs can often run together, a victim of their similarity. It can all make for a bit of a slog if you're not in the mood. Not here. Frontman Britt Daniel hasn’t always seemed in his element, but he sure does on this record. His wit and just the right level of swagger are on point.

Spoon has never met a hook they didn’t like, and this one's got ’em for days. There’s also a variety of styles here- if you want some rock, you got it. Need an earworm? “Do You” is just the thing. If you want a little trip-hop (and harp?!), “Inside Out” has you covered. Feel like something LCD-Soundsystem-ish? Cue up “Outlier.”

With all of those elements, it would’ve been easy for the band to go in one too many directions or deliver a sprawling LP that didn’t go anywhere specific. Fortunately, as much as they've been consistent, they’ve also been able to harness constraint to their advantage.

This is a band that doesn’t know how to put out a bad album. TWMS is more of the same; why fix what isn’t broken? Why they’ve never hit it big is beyond me. You can argue that a few of their records take some time to grow on you, and you could (maybe) make the case for Telefono being the exception. But by and large, most are incredible, and people won’t think twice about jumping from the top rope to defend theirs. That’s exactly what I did for They Want My Soul.

Sam’s pick & my take: Godspeed You! Black Emperor-Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven (2000)

This wasn’t what I was expecting at all. For some reason, I’ve always equated this band with much more aggressive, manic music like Death Grips and similar. Maybe they changed up their style on later records, but not here. This is…nice? I’m a sucker for what I would loosely describe as ambient music with a pulse. It’s a beautiful soundscape, doesn't distract you from working, and doesn’t put you to sleep. Sam’s turned me on to another record here.

39: Bruce Springsteen- Tunnel of Love (1987)

After Born in the USA, Bruce Springsteen could’ve kept making soundtracks to Midwest beer league softball games. Instead, he bet the other way and released one of his most introspective, sober records.

1987 saw him at a crossroads; he was a star with the world at his feet. He was also in the middle of a marriage that was rapidly disintegrating. It’s hard to write stadium rock when your world is falling down around you. At its heart, Springsteen’s music is aspirational, if occasionally simplistic. Love, victory, the open road. After all, like the song says, it ought to be easy, ought to be simple enough; man meets woman, and they fall in love, right?

All well and good, except love isn't always that straightforward, and sometimes the ending isn't the happy one you hoped would be written. Listening to the record, it’s clear that this was what he was grappling with.

Tunnel of Love wrestles with all the things unsaid. It’s fraught. “Tougher Than the Rest” paints love as a contact sport. “Valentine's Day” is when the lights go down, the applause stops, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

And someday, I’ll hear it for the one too many-eth time, and it’ll break me.

The E-street band is here, but more in theory than anything. They appear sporadically, with Springsteen choosing to write & play most of the parts himself. We don’t hear a single note of Clarence Clemons’ sax here- his only credit is for backing vocals on “When You’re Alone.” Sometimes, you just gotta work through things yourself, and I’m betting that’s why he made the personnel decisions he did here.

Tunnel of Love is not Springsteen’s best-selling record. It’s not his most commercial or radio-friendly one. But it is him at his most honest. It’s the Boss at his best.

Sam’s pick & my take: D’Angelo- Voodoo (2000)

The only song I can remember hearing on the radio or seeing a video for by D’Angelo is “How Does It Feel?”. In that (sorta) infamous video, the singer is nude in front of a strategically placed keyboard. There’s nowhere for him to go, nowhere to hide. Similarly, Voodoo is a record that feels like a live album—and the soundtrack to a bazillion makeout sessions. D’Angelo —and the people he’s surrounded himself with here— are on full display. If there are production tricks pancaking makeup on subpar tracks, I’m not hearing it. This is pure, unadulterated soul and a hinge between the likes of Marvin Gaye and Prince through today's stars.

It would be another 14 years before D’Angelo released another record, and it’s been 10 years since, but that’s fine—Voodoo is more than enough to tide people over.

38: Dr. Dre- The Chronic (1992)

Snoop Dogg was having a moment at this summer's Paris Olympics. From his facial expressions fueling countless memes to his dressing up for dressage, it felt like he was everywhere at once. Thirty-two years ago, he was just another hungry G in the LBC that no one had ever heard of. That changed with this record.

Long before he sold Beats headphones or put Eminem on the map, Dr. Dre was in NWA. Aftert that disintegrated, he tried his hand at going solo.

As good as Dre is behind the mic, he’s better behind the boards. Riding in on a wave of G-Funk sound, The Chronic served notice that the West Coast was back to snatch the hip-hop crown.

Let’s get one thing out of the way early: listening to his record through a 2024 lens isn’t easy. There’s a reason every track has an “explicit” label. The N-word is used liberally. The F-word is used like a comma. It’s snarling. It’s misogynistic. It’s…all the things, and I wouldn't dare try to excuse, rationalize, or explain away any of it. It is what it is. Listen at your own risk…and maybe not at work.

That said, this was a record that literally everyone I knew had a copy of; the wannabe gangsters at my school, the jocks, the heads, and everyone in between. And we were listening to it on repeat. It’s been over 30 years since I’ve played this front to back, and I can remember almost every word— and I’m at that point where I spend a lot of my days looking for my glasses only to realize I’m wearing them.

“F**K Wit Dre Day” (known to most of the world as just “Dre Day”) is still a banger, as is “Nuthin’ But a G Thang.” Even the skits I’ve bemoaned at various spots through this series can't detract from the overall record. I remember the words to those, too. Shout out to OG Henny Loc!

Good records are memorable. Great records upend entire genres. The Chronic did both of those and gifted us Snoop Dogg. It’s the real deal, Holyfield.

Sam’s pick & my take: The Cure-Disintegration (1989)

A masterpiece. Gorgeous, lush music from the elder statesmen of the alternative/goth/whatever world. Reach into the bag and pick whatever superlative you want; they all fit. It was a record so good that one of their best tracks from that era (“2 Late”) was relegated to being a B-side. Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me was one of the first CDs I ever bought. Growing up, I had a poster of Head on the Door in my bedroom. But if the house is on fire, this is the record I’m grabbing.

37: Joy Division- Unknown Pleasures (1979)

On May 18th, 1980, two things changed the world: Mt. St Helens erupted, and Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis died. Both sent shockwaves worldwide (one literal, the other metaphorical). Both left their respective landscapes forever altered.

I’m mindful that at this point, the band—and Curtis in particular— have ascended to an almost mythical status that belies their longevity & output. It’s a record that millions hold dear. Still, I find it hard to reconcile their outsized status with the idea that his album is only one of two they released. The best burn bright, but they don’t burn for long, I guess.

But before all of that, before the earthquakes and before Closer, Transmission, and Love Will Tear Us Apart, there was Unknown Pleasures. It's an iconic record and incredibly composed for a debut. Of course, it’s also the record that launched a million T-shirts.

Opener “Disorder” is the perfect counterargument to the idea that this is all doom and gloom. On the contrary, it’s bright and, dare I say, about as close as post-punk and pop come to merging.

But for those that prefer that sort of thing, “Day of the Lords” and “Candidate” will give you all you want and more. Both tracks are spare and not a little bleak. “New Dawn Fades” is haunting, and Curtis’ vocals are as raw and as intense as anything he would ever put to tape.

Curtis tends to be the focus of any Joy Division discussion, but that overlooks the fact that the other three were (are) talented in their own right. Bernard Sumner is now better known as a singer, but his guitar here is on point, especially on tracks like “Disorder,” “She’s Lost Control,” and “Interzone.” Peter Hook’s bass can get lost in the mix, but any question about whether or not he can play is erased with “Shadowplay.” The band’s performance of “She’s Lost Control” has found a second life on IG Reels, which does a bit of a disservice to an incredible track. Stephen Morris’ drumming here sounds deceptively simple- it’s much harder to actually play this and keep time. Ask me how I know this. As for “Interzone,” it’s one of my favorites by the band and proof that even goth kids can occasionally put out a rocker.

Curtis has been gone almost twice as long as we have been together. He was only 23. That’s another thing hard to reconcile about Joy Division—that a group of guys in their early 20s could put something so timeless out into the world.

Sam’s pick & my take: Funkadelic- Maggot Brain (1971)

My onramp to Bernie Worrell’s keyboard playing was with Talking Heads and “Stop Making Sense.” The sounds he was making were like nothing I’d heard before, and it felt like a new world was opening up. For Worrell, though, by 1984, this was old hat— he’d already played on plenty of groundbreaking records— I just hadn’t heard them yet.

Maggot Brain kicks off with a 10-minute(ish) ride into whatever was going on in George Clinton’s frontal lobes and only gets wilder from there. I could do without the title track, but that’s mostly because I now know what’s coming after it- just track after track of unabridged funk and more grooves than anyone deserves.

36: Marvin Gaye- What’s Going On? (1971)

Few jobs in aviation are worse than overnight cabin cleaning, and few things will destroy your faith in humanity faster. One of the bright spots of those long nights were the debates a coworker and I would have. These were spirited affairs, the kind people claim they’d like to have but are rarely lucky enough to experience. Verbal fencing matches with all thrusts and parries you can manage as you move from row to row, working your way from the back of the plane to the front.

I mention this because just about the only sliver of common ground we ever shared was that What’s Going On is one of the best records of all time. He was profoundly Christian and wished more people related to Gaye’s protests against war, the assault on Mother Nature, and man’s inhumanity to man, and wished the LP would’ve spurred them to action. Me? I got that, but I just loved how full the sound was compared to his earlier Motown stuff- even the record right before this (That’s the Way Love Is) feels simple in comparison, and it's a great record!

I also appreciated that Gaye was willing to put so much on the line to make this record, namely his career. He was in a good spot, and it would’ve been easy to turn on the autopilot, crank out a few more of the albums fans expected, and call it good. Instead, he walked into the studio with a heavy heart/conscience and everything from strings to congas and came out with one of the most remarkable concept albums of our time. We’re a long way from “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” here.

One of the record’s superpowers is that all of the songs flow easily into one another; given the larger question the record’s title asks, this was a masterstroke. The other is one I wish it didn’t possess—it’s timelessness. The record is 53 years old, and many of the themes Gaye takes on are ones we’re still facing today.

Protest records are often a tough sell. We like standing up for what’s right, but we don’t always like being preached to through our stereo. Gaye makes all of that feel effortless. It’s a record that calls for change and does so through unity rather than division. What’s Going On is a record that brings people together. If nothing else, my friend and I are proof of that.

Sam’s pick & my take: Portishead- Dummy (1994)

I shouldn’t be writing my take on this record today. Not on a day with full sun, and the potential for a new record high is looking more and more likely. Dummy is not a sunny record. It’s barely a record to play during the day. It’s far too dark, brooding, and maudlin. It’s the stuff of spy thrillers and only the hippest of dinner parties. I first bought this record for the wrong reasons (read: a girl I liked liked it), and it was mostly lost on me. Eventually, I came around and grew to appreciate the groove and elegant self-assurance that course through the entire record. Beth Gibbons’ voice is a treasure. Pairing her with a jazz guitarist and a DJ obsessed with crate digging was genius.

35: The B52s-Wild Planet (1980)

Set aside “Roam” or even “Rock Lobster” for a second. For my money, “Give Me Back My Man” is the B52s’ best song. “Roam” feels very much of the time it came from. As for “Rock Lobster,” it's a classic, but you can only get so much mileage from a novelty song.

“Give Me Back My Man” stands apart for a couple of reasons. First, it’s one of the first (and rare) times we see Cindy Wilson signing alone. Second, it’s kinda serious. This isn’t a band known for that. Wilson’s vocals and the deeper sound make for a compelling track, even if she can't help but mention throwing Divinity in the sand. At almost right in the middle of the track order, it provides a good deal of ballast and offsets some of the record’s sillier moments.

It’s a great song on a record full of them. For those worried that the party had stopped, fear not— the record literally kicks off with the band sharing best practices for hosting a gathering (“Party Gone Out of Bounds”). There’s also plenty of the call-and-response vocals between Wilson/Kate Pierson and Fred Schneider that we’ve come to expect. Tracks like “Devil in My Car” and “Private Idaho” are just two. And while we’re at it, have any two voices ever paired as seamlessly as Wilson & Pierson’s? If they have, I haven’t heard it. There’s also just enough of the band’s trademark absurdity to make sure you won't forget who you‘re listening to. This is the record where we learn the devil knows how to drive a stick. “Quiche Lorraine” really is about a lost poodle. Okay, then.

Sonically, the sound isn’t too far from the debut—the band picked the best parts from that record and brought them over. If nothing else, it’s much more cohesive. Guitarist Ricky Wilson's unconventional tunings and playing style are on full display here. Is it surf? Garage? Rock? Yes, and it’s a dimension sorely lacking on the band’s later records.

For all the advances Wild Planet makes over its predecessor, it is, at its heart, a party record. There is no song you can’t dance to, and there are dozens of highlights. It’s a glorious hot mess and some of the most fun you can have in under 35 minutes.

Some of their subsequent records have lost their edge (or never had one to lose). 44 years on, Wild Planet sounds as sharp as ever. Need proof? Throw it on at your next gathering and see what happens. Just remember to be tactful while making the rounds.

Sam’s pick & my take: Fiona Apple- When The Pawn… (1999)

It’s hard to believe that this was released 25 years ago, which is almost as long as it takes to say the full title of this record…

Both of us picked a sophomore effort for our #35s, and like the B52s, Apple hasn’t lost a step here. Before putting this back on for the first time, in well, I don’t know how long it has been, but it’s been a while, the only song I could recall was “Fast As You Can.” That’s still a highlight, but it's a highlight in a record chock full of great moments. Apple has one of the more unique (said as high praise) voices in pop music, and she uses every inch of its range here. Likewise, the music ranges from woozy rhythms and off-kilter beats to straight-ahead pop. It all makes for quite an experience.

P.S. If you’re ever at a party and want to trot out some trivia, the full title is:

When the pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king
What he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight
And he'll win the whole thing 'fore he enters the ring
There's no body to batter when your mind is your might
So when you go solo, you hold your own hand
And remember that depth is the greatest of heights
And if you know where you stand, then you know where to land
And if you fall it won't matter, cuz you'll know that you're right

34: Ella Fitzgerald- Ella Sings the Duke Ellington Songbook (1957)

If Ella Fitzgerald doesn't make an appearance, is it even a Top 100 list? There are a lot of cool records on this list. No vocalists are as effortlessly cool as Fitzergerlad is here. This is a bounty of easy, breezy jazz, smaller ensembles, and absolute vocal brilliance. Ella Sings… is a four-sided tour de force.

Sam’s pick and my take: The Strokes- Is This It? (2001)

2001: I decide to take what’s supposed to be a 4-month temporary assignment back in Portland. My (now) wife decides to give corporate life the finger and come with me. I cross the country for the 4th time in 3 years. This time, I have a cool copilot and a car with working heat/AC.

It’s spring, and the world is full of promise. That’ll all change in the fall, of course.

Looking back, the whole year was kinda upside down (for a whole host of reasons). Musically, in a year when even New Order released a record, my favorite was Kylie Minogue’s “Fever.”

That’s a lot of words to tell you that I was in a musical desert. I know who The Strokes were, but outside of “Last Nite,” I knew more about Al Hammond Sr.’s music (“It Never Rains In Southern California”) than I did about his son’s band. For some reason, The Strokes, Jet, and a handful of other bands blur into one for me. That's more of an indictment of my listening habits that year than anything else. At any rate, I was expecting 11 tracks that all more or less sounded like “Last Nite.” It was not the first time this week that I was wrong about something. “Barely Legal” is a favorite, and as I type this, has been playing on & off for a couple of days now. This record didn't rearrange my mind, but it’s a rock-solid, straight-ahead rock record. Sometimes that’s more than enough.

33: Yo La Tengo- Painful (1993)

I originally wrote this review for

Matt Fish

and his Best Music of All Time ‘Stack. Having listened to Painful again over the last few days, if anything, I think I’d double down on what I wrote below:

Early 90s indie music was marked by a lot of bands burning bright & burning fast.

They came, they rocked, and they imploded. Often in spectacular fashion. Some never to be heard from again. Others climbed out of the wreckage of one band and went to form a new one with a new sound. Meanwhile, Yo La Tengo was always there, steady as ever and churning out records.

They were content to be your favorite band's favorite band.

That's not to say they didn't have issues or skipped their own evolution. Before releasing their 6th record, 1993's Painful, they downsized from a quartet to a trio, played hopscotch between labels, and went through bassists at a Spinal-Tap level pace.

That all changed with this record.

The band had settled in with bassist James McNew (actually his 2nd record with the band), and he'd gone from "new guy" to an integral part of the group. They were settled in with Matador as their label as well.

That steadiness is reflected in the record itself. Previous YLT records had a bad habit of bouncing between walls of fuzz and something akin to folk rock. Appealing yet inconsistent. Ira Kaplan's vocals could verge into a bratty/sneering style. He hasn't lost his edge, but they've evolved into a more, if not congenial, then conversational style.

One of YLT's hallmarks is that any song feels like it could be remade in a dozen different ways. Much of Painful continues that tradition- see the two wildly different versions of "Big Day Coming" as exhibit A- but it also feels fully fleshed out. The record turned 30 earlier this year, but it’s the one I repeatedly return to. I can’t say the same for many of the records released around the same time.

The first lyrics we hear are "Let's be undecided," but Painful is a decisive statement record of a band fully formed. One hitting its stride and never looking back.

Sam’s pick and my take: Bob Dylan- Highway 61 Revisited (1965)

Minneapolis casts a long shadow over the rest of Minnesota. The Twin Cities are a great place to visit, with plenty to do, but just outside of that is a whole state left to check out…starting with places like Duluth, where you can watch big ships come/go or just watch the weather roll in over Lake Superior. You can also drive Highway 61, a stunning piece of this country and one in the stomping grounds of the man formerly known as Robert Zimmerman, now known as Bob Dylan.

Curing this up, I skipped “Like a Rolling Stone.” Like Minneapolis, it's the one most people have been to. I've been there, done that. I wanted to get into the meat of this record, the tracks I’d never heard before—or at least ones I hadn't heard in forever.

Just going by Spotify (I know, I know), it feels like many people never go past the first track, either. It has several orders of magnitude more listens than the next closest, “Ballad of a Thin Man.” And how many times has that been used in a TV episode? I only know of one, and that’s ‘cause I used to watch Cold Case1 every day after work (What? It’s a great show!). Of course, “Like A Rolling Stone” is on there, too—they saved it for the end.

I don’t know if that’s how it was when this was released, but I’m betting it was. If you’ve only been to Minneapolis, can you say you’ve seen Minnesota? If you’ve only listened to one track, can you claim to have heard an album? Maybe, but it’s thin logic.

Comparing “Tombstone Blues” and “From a Buick 6” to Duluth Minnestoa might be the clunkiest analogy I’ve ever tried to pull off, but I’ll say this—both are underrated, need more people to experience them and are worth the time and energy it takes to get past the main attraction.

32: John Hiatt- Slow Turning (1988)

I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: everyone should take a road trip at some point. Few things are more educational than getting in a car and hitting the open road.

The recipe for a successful journey:

Throw your map out the window.
Stick to Blue Highways whenever possible.
Listen to AM radio for most of the trip (where the “real” America can be found), and work in some John Hiatt wherever possible.

Optional: When your friend swears he knows a shortcut through the Dakotas that adds several hours to the trip, take it in stride — that’s also part of the adventure.

Just what is it about John Hiatt that makes his music so appealing? Sure, The stories are good (the plot twist at the end of "Tennessee Plates” is just one example), and the music is always rock solid. I think, in the end, it’s that his strength is writing relatable songs. Unfortunately, that hasn’t translated into massive success (the title track here is the only time his name has cracked the top 10).

Maybe universal is a better word choice here, and while each listener may come away with their own unique take, those are usually within the boundaries of a shared understanding. It’s like how people intuitively know how to play basketball, even if they can’t explain a pick or screen — same idea with any given song.

At the same time, it really is also relational. We like to ascribe memories and/or certain stages of our lives to songs. Sometimes, we attach wildly different memories to different songs by the same artist. For me, that musician is John Hiatt. And in this case, his song “Slow Turning,” specifically this verse:

Now I’m in my car
Ooo, I got the radio down
And I’m yelling at the kids in the back
’Cause they’re banging like Charlie Watts
You think you’ve come so far
In this one horse town
Then she’s laughing that crazy laugh
’Cause you haven’t left the parking lot

My road trips used to involve a half-crushed pack of Parliaments on the dash, a Case Logic CD holder on the front seat, and no maps.

These days, the cigarettes are long gone; an aux cord replaced the CD binder, and the back seat was home to a pair of car seats for a while. Later, my car was full of soccer cleats and Subway wrappers. Then, one kid got his own car. Time flies.

But John’s still here wailin’ away, sounding better than ever— even when we haven’t left the parking lot.

Sam’s pick & my take: Janet Jackson- The Velvet Rope (1997)

Kicking off this series, I noted that Jackson’s Control album had announced a new era for the artist. Penny from Good Times was gone, and Miss Jackson was here. 13 years later, Jackson had seen some things and gone through it. Back again with longtime producers Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, Jackson uses this record to explore heavier themes. It feels weightier than her earlier work, even Rhythm Nation. But listening to it, it also feels much more refined. There’s an elegance and maturity to it. And it’s a Janet Jackson record, so you can dance to it, too.

31: Fugazi-Repeater (1990)

Some records change your life, but rarely does a band come along that changes the way you live. Fugazi did both. In an era when selling out was still a four-letter word, the band did what they did best: they lived their lives on their terms. They could make a compelling case for why you should be on their team, but if you weren't, that was okay, too. It was a big tent, and their live-and-let-live mindset was a far cry from the straight-edge kids who had teased those threads to their extreme and spent shows looking for drinks to knock out of people’s hands.

Speaking of those shows, the band capped admission at $5 and insisted they be all-ages. I imagine that eventually paid off in the form of increased record sales, but they left a lot of money on the table then. Same with shying away from selling merch and staying on their homegrown Dischord label. Respect and street cred are all well and good, but they don’t pay the rent. But here’s the thing: that DIY ethic wasn't just a gimmick for Fugazi; it was everything. When one of your songs has a chorus that screams, “You are not what you own,” selling t-shirts becomes a little tricky.

The band held themselves to a high ethical standard, and none of it would've mattered if the music wasn't any good.

At this point, they’d already released a few records—the self-titled and Margin Walker EPs (later combined and released on CD as 13 Songs), and at least one 7”, which was added to the CD version of this release.

Repeater shows the band’s sound in full relief. It’s relentless, it rocks, and it makes you think. It’s persuasive but never preachy. The most stentorian thing about Fugazi are Ian Mackaye’s vocals.

Mackaye, of course, was in the seminal band Minor Threat. Brendan Canty and Guy Picciotto in DC area legends Rites of Spring. Listening to their earlier records, one gets the sense that they were hellbent on Fugazi not being reduced to “Ian Mackaye’s new band” or “the next Rites of Spring.” That’s doubly true on Repeater. The legacy of both bands is evident here, but it’s also improvisational- almost as if a hardcore band tried to play as a jazz quartet. It’s worth noting that bassist Joe Lally and drummer Canty are now in The Messthetics.

“Styrofoam” is like lightning coming through your speakers. “Sieve Fisted Find” is a bruising track with lyrics you could interpret in a number of different ways. Not everything Mackaye wrote was prescriptive.

But when he did, whew! The first part of that earlier refrain from “Merchandise” is “We owe you nothing, you have no control,” a clear message rumored to have been directed at the major labels, but if you saw yourself in that line, well…

Back to those shows: I’ve seen the band twice. There was no merch- I’m sure they were selling CDs and LPs, but for the life of me, I can’t recall seeing anything set up. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway; at that point, I already had them and wouldn’t have bought anything else- you are not what you own had been tattoed on my brain by that point.

On paper, Fugazi is still a band. In reality, they’ve been on hiatus for over twenty years now. Occasionally, a rumor pops up that they’ve again left money on the table by refusing to reunite to play a festival. Sometimes, there are even whispers that they’re getting back together. But nothing has come of it yet, and most of it is just white noise and/or wishful thinking.

Again, I’m going off memory, but I also recall the shows being played with just regular lights. Other than them coming up and going down, nothing changed throughout the setlist- no color, no nothing. The spotlight was on the music itself. Fugazi wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Sam’s pick & my take: Cocteau Twins- Heaven or Las Vegas (1990)

I’m writing this on the record’s 34th birthday, and all I can think of is the phrase, “They broke the mold.” There are plenty of descriptors to fall back on (“masterpiece,” “exquisite,” etc.), but mostly, I keep thinking about how this set an impossibly high bar— not just for other bands, but for themselves. I also keep returning to how blown away I was by this when I first heard it— and in 1990, I was 100% in my Bad Religion, J Church, and Jawbreaker era.

It’s fair to say that dream pop begins and ends here. I’m loathe to describe a record as “vibes,” but in this case, it fits. I could probably prattle on about this record forever, but I would only be doing it a disservice. Sometimes, art is better left to speak for itself.

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That’s it for Round 7! Be sure to share your thoughts in the comments, check out Sam’s thoughts on his picks, and stay tuned for Part 8 as we keep rolling on toward the top spot!

On Repeat Records