Half of the albums on this list of twenty represent my first exposure to the artists who recorded them.
I don’t think that’s a coincidence. So often when I discover someone new, the album that served as my introduction remains my favorite. In part, that’s because the album grabbed me for a reason, but I think it’s also something akin to the blinding blush of first love.
Ron Sexsmith’s second studio album (and third album overall) was my first introduction to his work. I bought Other Songs after reading effusive praise by Elvis Costello and about 15 seconds into the first track I knew I’d found a new favorite.
Sexsmith would go on to record increasingly better produced records but the low-key, mostly acoustic Other Songs remains one of his very finest moments.
Lauryn Hill’s short stint with The Fugees didn’t prepare anybody for the burst of soulful creativity she unleashed on her solo debut, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. The album, a mix of rap and R&B balladry, was a bona fide hit, going platinum eight times over and winning five Grammys.
My recent countdown of favorite 90s bands might have given the impression that the decade really and truly sucked.
And while I do think the 90s pale in comparison to, say, the 60s and 80s in terms of signature sound, some of my favorite work was produced during the decade.
To prove the point, over the next several weeks I will count down my 20 favorite albums released in the 90s.
Mr. Random iTunes Man resisted the temptation to go for a Dylan performance two weeks in a row, but he did choose a Dylan song.
The Byrds basically made a career out of covering Dylan. Their debut album, Mr. Tambourine Man, and first single (of the title song) launched them to stardom and became the template for folk rock in America. Four of the 12 songs on that record, including today’s SOTD, were Dylan covers.
