Thread: T. Moon's 1,000 recordings to hear before you die

32. Fred Astaire, Steppin' Out: Astaire Sings (Vocals, 1953) F

Smooth lounge singer, but not for me.

33. Chet Atkins and Les Paul, Chester and Lester (Country, Jazz 1977) C-

Great guitarists jamming. The clean tone isn't my favorite, but it grows on you I suppose. Maybe pretend you are in Hawaii, idk.

Atkins, who'd done a series of successful instrumental records before this, explains in the liner notes why he was anxious to work with Paul, who invented the solid-body electric guitar and other music-making devices. "He really does know everybody who's playing and what they're doing on the instrument," Atkins said. "Of course, a lot of stuff they're doing now, Les was doing in 1937." And the low-key stuff these two did together here? Guitarists are still trying to figure all of it
out.

34. Albert Ayler, Spiritual Unity (Jazz, 1965) D+

"It's not about notes anymore," Ayler told an interviewer in the early 1960s, drawing a distinction between his work and that of more traditional jazz musicians. "It's about feelings." And while those feelings can come across as harsh, Ayler's commitment is unassailable. Listen to Spiritual Unity for just a few minutes, and you can tell he's into the music with every ounce of breath. Chasing ideas that were just beyond the common musical vocabulary of the time, he played what he felt in the moment, and didn't stop to worry about how it might be going over. Which perhaps explains why his audiences were sometimes rendered speechless.

Youtube comment:

This is...
alot to handle.

I'm ok with this.

I have a feeling that Buff, the saxophone unthusiast, would stomp speakers steel-toe style. Maybe not. It's def. not Kenny G.

This type of sax, where Ayler ain't afraid to blast out wet flatulences that would earn disgusted looks from everyone in the room, is actually pretty badass.

That does it for the artists that begin with "A."

I may have said that after finishing the A's that I would review my grades.

Instead, I will wait until after the first 100 recordings and regroup after that. Re-listen and re-calibrate. See how the 'journey' has challenged and shaped me. So we are on to the B's.

Good one to start with.

35. Baby Huey and the Babysitters, The Baby Huey Story: The Living Legend (R&B, 1971) B-

I never heard of this dude. He kicks ass. This music kicks ass. It kicks so much ass.



He OD'ed at 26. He was a big dude.

A native of Richmond, Indiana, James Ramey moved to Chicago, Illinois at the age of nineteen, and worked with several local bands as a singer. One, while he was still in high school, was called the Vets. Due to a glandular disorder, Ramey weighed about 350 pounds (160 kg) around this time.[2] His size contributed to his stage presence, but also to health problems. Nevertheless, he made light of his condition, adopting the stage name "Baby Huey" after Paramount Pictures' giant duckling cartoon character of the same name. In 1963, Ramey, organist/trumpeter Melvyn "Deacon" Jones, and guitarist Johnny Ross founded a band called Baby Huey & the Babysitters, which became a popular local act and released several 45 RPM singles. The four songs, "Beg Me", "Monkey Man", "Messin' with the Kid" and "Just Being Careful" were spread over various single releases.

During the late-1960s, the band followed the lead of Sly & the Family Stone and became a psychedelic soul act. Huey began wearing an Afro and donned psychedelic African-inspired robes, and adding sing-song, self-referential rhymes to his live performances. According to his bandmates, Ramey's rhymes were very similar in style to those later popularized by rappers in hip-hop music. The Babysitters were a popular live act, but never took the time out to record an album.

In 1969, the band's agent Marv Heiman secured them an audition with Curtom Records arranger Donny Hathaway. Heiman states that Hathaway came by the Thumbs Up club and was very impressed by the act, and got Curtom Records head Curtis Mayfield to come the following night.[3] Mayfield wanted to sign Baby Huey, but not the band. Although the band participated in the recording of Ramey's debut album, there were feelings of unease among them, and Jones quit the band during the recording. It's also likely that Ross had quit some time before.

By 1970, Ramey had developed an addiction to heroin, and his weight had increased to over 400 pounds.

On October 28, 1970, James Ramey died of a drug-related heart attack at the age of twenty-six in a Chicago motel room.

36. - 39. Bach

I know where Bach fits into my life, you probably have decided the same for you.

I've played some, listened to a lot. It's more interesting to play than to listen for me.

There are four recordings that Tom Moon suggests. Among them, I like The Well-Tempered Clavier most (but listening to both 'books' is a 4CD event). If you aren't into solo piano, skip it. The Brandenburg Concertos are pretty good.

The Mass in B Minor and Violin Sonatas don't do it for me as much. The Mass could grow on me, guess we'll see how much I go back to it.

40. Bad Brains, I Against I (Rock, Punk 1986) D+

I am surprised Moon chose I Against I over Bad Brain's 1982 self-titled debut. I prefer the debut, but I Against I holds up. I've owned both for years, like any hardcore enthusiast.

Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys once described the Bad Brains' self-titled 1982 debut as "the best punk/hardcore album of all time."

41. Erykah Badu, Mama's Gun (R&B, 2000) B-

Like Fiona, I purchased Badu's first album but then missed out on the amazing follow-up. This album crushes it. She's cleva.

42. Joan Baez, Joan Baez (Folk, 1960) B

I'd never intentionally or knowingly listened to Baez.

Near the end of "East Virginia," one of fifteen traditional songs Joan Baez interprets on her debut album, there's an unexpected display of musicianship. Baez has been singing in full, almost loud, voice when suddenly she drops into pianissimo and modulates her guitar accompaniment accordingly. She handles most of the transfixing final verses this way, not in a stage whisper exactly, but a muted, death-pondering voice.

This is an impressive recording. Just a 19 year old girl and her guitar, but she throws it down. I don't know if she's been topped.

In 1983 Baez described the making of the album to Rolling Stone's Kurt Loder:

It took four nights. We were in some big, smelly ballroom at a hotel on Broadway, way up by the river. We couldn't record on Wednesday nights because they played bingo there. I would be down there on this dirty old rug with two microphones, one for the voice and one for the guitar. I just did my set; it was probably all I knew. Just put 'em down. I did "Mary Hamilton" once, that was it. That's the way we made 'em in the old days. As long as a dog didn't run through the room or something, you had it.

43. Anita Baker, Rapture (R&B, 1986) C-

Maybe I should give this a higher grade. Truth is, it's tasteful and chill, and she is a flawless singer, but this version of R&B (in contrast to the Baby Huey version) has never commanded my attention. Maybe it's my ADD.

I can't deny the quality though.

Rapture endures primarily because of the way Baker, a Detroit-based singer who grew up listening to Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington, and others, approaches the task of singing sweet nothings. While the reigning pop divas (Whitney Houston et al.) load every phrase with heaping helpings of pain, Baker hangs way back, letting her voice ooze over the subtle, at times sedate accompaniment. She sounds, throughout, as if she is caught up in a kind of deep bliss, a zone of feeling from which she can be candid about the wonders of the love she shares.

Even when she's talking about ecstasy, Baker is restrained—she takes her leisurely time with every note. Singing in this deliberate and unhurried way, she fulfills the romance requirement of Quiet Storm while aligning herself with João Gilberto, Billie Holiday, Roberta Flack, Miles Davis, and other masters of musical quietude.

44. Chet Baker, Let's Get Lost: The Best of Chet Baker Sings (Jazz, 1950's) C

Never heard of Chet Baker, so thanks Tom.

This disc was culled from recordings made in the 1950s before heroin ravaged his body and blunted the little-boy-blue purity of his voice. It is among the most beautiful respites in all of jazz.

Very intimate recording, owns a hidden corner of the musical universe all to itself.

45. The Balfa Brothers, The Balfa Brothers Play Traditional Cajun Music (Folk, 1965) B+

If you like a fiddle you will like this. If you like a fiddle and an accordion you will love this. I fell in love with this almost instantly.

When the Balfa Brothers of Mamou, Louisiana, light into a zippy Cajun two-step, what transpires is stately and unflappable dance music made with the polite manners of old ladies sitting around a sewing circle. That's not a knock: In great Cajun music, everyone sticks to his or her knitting. The fiddles handle their woeful, seesawing melodies, the guitars are strummed in straightforward, unremarkable fashion, and the percussion—which comes from the triangle and the washboard—defines the tempo in efficient, nothing-fancy strokes.

The Balfas are masters of this clockwork interdependence, which gives the simple odes of traditional Cajun music a juiced-up exuberance. Listen to this family band keep time, and what you hear is more than careful execution. You hear great spaces between the notes, moments where it seems everyone breathes at the same instant and then leans back into the groove with the same amount of elbow grease. Building on this unity, the brothers Dewey, Will, Rodney, and Harry bring extraordinary lightheartedness to nimble waltzes and songs of devotion.

The Balfas grew up hearing traditional Cajun music—their father, a sharecropper, sang the songs of his French ancestors almost daily, at a time when many French-speaking settlers in southern Louisiana spoke English in order to assimilate. Dewey and his brothers played small dances and local affairs until 1964, when they were invited as a last-minute replacement at the Newport Folk Festival.

46. Hank Ballard and the Midnighters, Singin' and Swingin' with . . . (Rock, 1957) F+

*yawn*

This hot 1957 date reveals him as a songwriter of significant range, capable of sorrowful, blues-inflected ballads and pieces that feel as giddy as doo-wop but without the dewy-eyed naivete. Singin' and Swingin's big hit, "Teardrops on your Letter," is a timeless early-rock song that somehow never became a standard . ..

This album's commercial claim to fame, though, is the B side to "Teardrops," "The Twist," which was rerecorded by Chubby Checker and became one of the biggest singles in rock history as well as a dance craze.

47. Afrika Bambaataa and the Soul Sonic Force, "Planet Rock" (Hip-hop, 1986) F

Just this track (not an album) was Tom Moon's selection. It's a good cut, but doesn't do enough to move the needle.

To give perspective to electronic and DJ technology of the time, this cut is from the same year DMC's Raising Hell and Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill were released. Both much better offerings of hip-hop from the time (DMC's recording is in this list, Licensed to Ill is not).

48. Samuel Barber, Adagio for Strings (Classical, composed 1936) B-

You have to be in the right mood for this one. It's a slow burner, but worth it.

In January 1938 Barber sent an orchestrated version of the Adagio for Strings to Arturo Toscanini. The conductor returned the score without comment, which annoyed Barber. Toscanini then sent word through Menotti that he was planning to perform the piece and had returned it simply because he had already memorized it.

The Adagio for Strings has been performed on many public occasions, especially during times of mourning. It was:

Broadcast over the radio at the announcement of Franklin D. Roosevelt's death;[17]
Broadcast over the television at the announcement of John F. Kennedy's death[18]
Played at the funeral of Albert Einstein[18]
Played at the funeral of Princess Grace of Monaco[17]
Broadcast on BBC Radio several times after the announcement of the death of Princess Diana
Performed at Last Night of the Proms in 2001 at the Royal Albert Hall to commemorate the victims of the September 11 attacks[19]

The Adagio for Strings was one of John F. Kennedy's favorite pieces of music. Jackie Kennedy arranged a concert the Monday after his death with the National Symphony Orchestra and they played to an empty hall. The concert went out on radio. Barber knew about these memorial occasions. He did a radio interview about it with WQXR and said, "They always play that piece. I wish they'd play some of my other pieces."[24]

In 2004, listeners of the BBC's Today program voted Adagio for Strings the "saddest classical" work ever, ahead of "Dido's Lament" from Dido and Aeneas by Henry Purcell, the Adagietto from Gustav Mahler's 5th symphony, Metamorphosen by Richard Strauss, and Gloomy Sunday as sung by Billie Holiday.[25][26]