I've spent the better part of today reading a book called "Marooned: Desert Island Discs," which is a sequel in spirit to an earlier collection of "Desert Island Discs" edited by Greil Marcus (who provides the forward for this collection), which came out in 1979. The newer collection dates from 2007, and quite frankly it includes a lot of music I'm not familiar with, at least so far (I have heard of My Bloody Valentine, even though I'm not familiar with them all that much). As is often the case when reading something like this, I started to think about what I might pick to be stuck with on a desert island (assuming there was a working soundsystem or my iPod was charged up and incapable of running out of power, at least until I was rescued). I guess I gave away my pick in the post title, but first a word about contenders:
The Modern Lovers, Precise Modern Lovers Order: this is a collection of two concerts done by the original Moder Lovers line-up (Jonathan Richman, Jerry Harrison, plus a couple of other guys) that I picked up because it boasted a live cover of the Velvet Underground's "Foggy Notion." It's a fantastic record, front to back, and "A Plea for Tenderness" is probably my favorite (though the live version of "Roadrunner" is no slouch).
The Velvet Underground, Loaded: speaking of the Velvets, the double-disc reissue of their final album with Lou Reed is a must-have. You've got "Sweet Jane," "Rock and Roll," "Oh Sweet Nuthin'," "Lonesome Cowboy Bill" (okay, it may just be me that likes that song) and so many others.
Joy Division, Substance: I wish I had the moment back when, arrogant because I'd recently bought the Heart and Soul boxset, I decided "nah, I don't need this anymore" and sold it for some extra cash. Any disc that has "Transmission," "Digital," and "Love Will Tear Us Apart" (plus the only live recording of JD performing "Ceremony") is a must. Stupid me, selling it because I didn't think (running theme throughout my life).
The Who, Sell Out: nothing about this album should work (a bunch of songs stringed together with fake ads for products, all thumbing their nose at the idea of rock music being "art" by boiling it down as simple slogans, etc.), but it does. This was the first Who album that made me love the Who.
All fine choices, and I could go on (and trust me, it's my blog; I could do so), but in the interest of time, let me go ahead and explain my pick: Talking Heads, More Songs About Buildings and Food.
One of the requirements I'd have to have for an album that I was forced to listen to for the rest of my life (assuming the boat never does track me down) is mystery, or at least "non-familiarity," and as much as I love some of the other albums listed, I know them too well. I know Loaded has quite a few Doug Yule lead vocals; I know the expanded version of Sell Out includes one of Roger Daltrey's few songwriting attempts within the Who (where Pete Townshend did most of the work in songwriting). But I don't know More Songs as well as I'd like to. That's because, for a brief time, it stopped my fandom of Talking Heads in its tracks.
I bought Talking Heads 77 (red cover, only broken up by the title in green letters: harder to think of a less appetizing color scheme besides Never Mind the Bollocks' green on pink) and loved it instantly. It's such a non-punk "punk" album: there are songs about psycho killers, government employees, books to read, etc., which all seem outside the normal range of punk-rock topics (at least as handed down through the ages), but it's a fucking masterpiece of its time. The back cover features the band, looking as normal as possible (in fact, they look almost like the first couple of batches of nubile camp counselers who get chopped up in the Friday the 13th movies, down to Tina Weymouth being "the Final Girl" after Jerry Harrison and Chris Frantz have been dispatched, with David Byrne being the only suspect because he does, after all, sing lead on "Psycho Killer"). More Songs has the now-iconic image of the band reproduced in blocks, their forms distinctly human and yet not. It's my nominee for the case of an album's art being better than the music (a runner-up: Sgt. Pepper. Yes, it changed music when it came out, but saying it's the Beatles ' best album is wrong on so many levels).
That's because, when I got the album and started playing it...meh. I mean, "Take Me to the River" is easily one of the top ten best cover songs of all time (and it led me, years later, to get my hands on an Al Green best-of), but a lot of the album feels iffy. It's the first go-around for the partnership between the band and Brian Eno, and compared to the other fruits of that collaberation (Fear of Music, Remain in Light, and the Byrne/Eno side project My Life In the Bush of Ghosts), it doesn't have the same force, the same appeal. There are some great songs on there ("I'm Not In Love," "Uh-Oh, Love Comes to Town," the mild-hint-of-lesbianism-or-just-frustration-with-men "The Girls Want to Be With the Girls"), but the overall feel of the album doesn't leave you with a satisfied grin, like the first album did. At least it didn't for me, not for a long, long time.
It took me a while to embrace the Heads (who had been part of my Eighties childhood: "Burning Down the House" was etched into my psyche thanks to music television long before I knew what "music videos" were). I picked up the 2005 "best of," which is honestly worthy of the title, and that led to Fear of Music, Remain in Light, and even My Life In the Bush of Ghosts. Talking Heads are now stuck in my record collection, no matter what. But through it all, I've rarely revisited More Songs. I have the feeling if, confined to a desert island for the rest of my natural days, I could probably revisit it to death (trust me, any work of music gets old if you hear it enough), but maybe before I'd worn out the grooves of "Take Me to the River," I'd end up appreciating the album more than I do now. One thing about music, it gets stuck in your head; I have no doubt I've got enough up there to recall it on my mental iPod, whether I want to hear it or not. But More Songs About Buildings and Food is an exception and, as of yet, one that I've not visited with in years. Maybe if I had no other option, I'd give it a chance.
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