Albums

1. De Stijl
2. Elephant
3. Icky Thump
4. White Blood Cells
5. The White Stripes
6. Get Behind Me Satan

Top 5 Songs

1. Death Letter
2. Ball & Biscuit
3. Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground
4. Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise
5. Little Bird

Track One

1. Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground
2. Seven Nation Army
3. Icky Thump
4. You’re Pretty Good Looking (For a Girl)
5. Blue Orchid
6. Jimmy the Exploder

Last Track

1. Your Southern Can Is Mine
2. Effect & Cause
3. I Fought Piranhas
4. Well It’s True That We Love One Another
5. This Protector
6. I’m Lonely

I post this list here, because I’m pretty confident it will change.  I’m not sure whether that speaks more to the lack of integrity in my decision making skills, or how timeless The White Stripes really are.

Either way.  Agree to disagree.

Albums (Best to Not The Best)

1.  Elephant

2.  De Stijl

3.  Icky Thump

4.  White Blood Cells

5.  The White Stripes

6.  Get Behind Me Satan

Top 5 Songs (Best to Not The Best)

1.  Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise

2.  Death Letter

3.  Offend in Every Way

4.  Ball & Biscuit

5.  Little Cream Soda

Track One (Best to Not The Best)

1.  Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

2.  Seven Nation Army

3.  Jimmy the Exploder

4.  You’re Pretty Good Looking for a Girl

5.  Icky Thump

6.  Blue Orchid

Last Track (Best to Not The Best)

1.  I’m Lonely (But I Ain’t That Lonely Yet)

2.  Cause & Effect

3.  I Fought Piranhas

4.  Your Southern Can Is Mine

5.  It’s True That We Love One Another

6.  This Protector

“Ready or Not…here I come…you can’t hide…gonna find you and make you want me…” True.

Puffy was missin’ Big, and Mase had been around da world, and it all seemed larger than life. Naturally, since the Fugees were a hip hop group, this left a stigma in the mind of a suburban white boy that landed The Score on the shelf with Bad Boy Records.

Listening to them now, The Score was important, not discountable.

This album is stripped down, focused and has something to say. Can I relate? Probably not, but I can respect.

Ready or Not sounds like a Kanye West beat, recorded 8 years before College Dropout. Ahead of its time.

I’m only half way through this album and have decided…

The Score stays.

“You can always pull out if you like it too much…”

It’s evident that Shirley Manson’s porn star undertones and alt rock sexiness stole my pubescent mind in days of yore.

As I blow the dust off the jewel case, (and watch John Buck jack homers), I’m reminded of provocative music videos, and can’t help but still be drawn to Shirley’s Shirleyness.

I warned in my ‘prologue’ that many of these albums may make the cut by simply sparking a fond memory. Garbage reminds me too much of being a junior high scholar when life was easy, and has effectively flown beneath the radar.

A poppy-fresh-new-wave-metal sound holds strong throughout, and even though the cover is pink and feathery…

Garbage stays.

“It makes me sad to think, that this could be all for nothing…” A little prophetic maybe?

Clearly some confusion occurred among this group. One half of the band saw themselves as grunge, the other half saw themselves as industrial rock. Something tells me if they had taken a leap of faith they would have turned out ok as a full on industrial rock group. The mix of influences do no favors for Stabbing Westward.

I bought this album on the strength of their single ‘Shame’, which I’ll still argue is a solid song, but I lost touch with this band long long ago.

I almost feel bad for letting this one go, but I know I’ll never listen to it again.

Wither Blister Burn & Peel goes.

“Nobody loves me, maybe I’ll just go eat worms…” Fine.

Just rip it off like a band aid, right? Too bad this is no band aid. This is a b-team ankle tape job that’s been wrapped all the way up my leg and around my ball sack. I’ve got a long painful pull ahead of me.

Two shit references come to mind when listening to this album.

A Fred Durst beat box sounds like a cute little toddler fart and, the sixteen minute outro track actually feels like constipation.

There’s nothing else I can say about this nonsense.

Three Dollar Bill Yall goes.

“Come original, you got to come original…” Hmmmm (raise of an eyebrow).

Peer pressure is the reason I started listening to 311. Everyone else is doing it right? Sign me up. The 311 musical method has long since become stale to me. There is way too much of the same constant ratta tat tat, echoey vocals and whiny rapping.

However, be it by pontoon or by the barbeque grill, there is clearly a time and place for some select 311. Give me their sun soaked groove beats from June to August and I’ll be just fine, but if the weather is not above 90 degrees, 311 will sit on the shelf.

Soundsystem stays.

Sadly, as an adolescent, I was interested in anything MTV was serving up on their bubble gum platter. I was an only child, from a small family, with zero outside influence on what constituted good quality music. In that, the majority of CDs I purchased pre-2000 would probably work better as coffee cup coasters. I woefully acknowledge that there is a lot of shit on my shelf awaiting its demise.

For years I’ve been inclined to consolidate and refine my music collection to only those albums that would be deemed collection worthy by my present day self.

At the same time I refuse to completely discount all the music I listened to up until my turning point. My personality doesn’t allow me to purge thoughts, feelings or possessions haphazardly. Without having listened to many of these albums for years, the only way I feel I can rid myself of all that sucks, is by painstakingly going back and listening to all those shameful purchases I made years ago.

I can say with 100% confidence that this exodus is going to invoke a lot of memories, making it all the more difficult for me to part with these pieces of my past. My plan is to share each one of my decisions with you via Mild Tenacity. Things are about to get extremely awkward.

Spring Cleaning begins today.

After recently becoming a home owner I understand their separation from peace.

It’s been three weeks since I’ve taken time to sit down and write, read, doodle, listen to music, play guitar or much of anything for that matter. I can’t even fathom my schedule after my first or second child is born.

Maybe I need better time management skills, or more motivation, but between work, sleep, showering, shaving and eating I don’t have much time to focus on anything extra in my life.

To me, this is extremely disturbing.

It would be nice if the whole world would decide to just slow the fuck down for a while and enjoy being. I imagine that might solve a lot of peoples’ problems.

That afternoon, I fell in love.

I sat in front of my record player, carefully peeled back the plastic packaging of my new record and took a moment to admire the glossy cover. I was curious to know why the artist chose the ominous picture he did to grace the front of his first solo project.

The freshness of the binding made an inviting crack when it opened and exposed the artwork inside. I turned the sleeves over to study Side A and Side B, taking a moment to ponder the mood of the album based on song titles alone.

I propped open the back cover, pinched the edge of the vinyl between my thumb and index, and slid the music from its home into my palms. It was beautiful. I questioned whether I should even play it, and answered myself quickly.

My turntable clicked and the record anxiously spun. I held my breath and set the needle in the groove.

For the next hour and a half I laid on my living room floor, and inhaled every last lyric of the beautifully crafted album, Keep it Hid.

Vinyl is warm. Vinyl is engaging.

Vinyl welcomes patience and vinyl scolds haste.