At the suggestion of my wife and daughter, I committed to posting ten albums that most influenced my musical tastes. I’ve been trying to think of which albums honestly answer that question. There are a lot of songs and albums that I like, or that hold special meaning for whatever moment or memory they’re associated with… but they didn’t change or expand the sort of music I listen to.

This project took a little more reflection than I anticipated.

I lumped these three albums together because they’re the soundtrack to my earliest years working–first at a hospital as a sort of apprentice under my biomed tech father, and second as an Airman at a year-long language training course in Monterey.

I know I listened to the cassette of Siamese Dream often. I have a vivid memory of walking along the railroad tracks near my South Side Chicago home on a sunny day with a clear blue sky.

We used to walk those tracks often—my dad leading my brother and I when we were younger, helping us balance on the rails or watching as we did it on our own. He would hide coins and little precious stones or trinkets in some of the trees along the way, things for us to find as rare treasures later. As is probably all too natural, and unfortunate, we didn’t go for so many walks as we got older. Too many other things to do rather than spend time just walking around.

I’m 90% sure that in the instance of my vivid memory, I was walking to catch the bus to go to work at a hospital in the Biomed Tech department where my dad was contracted. I learned to disassemble, clean, reassemble, and ops check a particular model of infusion pump, to confirm that the supposedly fixed pumps were functioning appropriately, pumping out the right amount of fluid over time. Anything really complicated was my dad’s job, along with his co-workers, of course, but I took care of some of the grunt work for them so they could focus on the complex tasks.

When the steady building drum rolls and strumming at the beginning of Cherub Rock bursts into overdrive, it still gets my head bobbing to the beat. The wails of the guitar solos and Corrigan’s shift between breathy vocals and emotive roars feel like all of teenage angst and awkwardness stuffed into a musical land mine, ready to explode at the first familiar note. Today’s soft plucking turns into head banging power without warning, and it takes me back to what seemed like the greatest days.

All that said, I fell in love with Disarm. I adored the bells and drums accenting the melody, and the driving rhythm of the rapid strumming—especially with so much of a minor chord dominating the song. There was beauty and power in the emotion of the music rather than the volume of it, which never really blares or overwhelms.

Disarm was the one I had to take to the piano and learn how to play for myself.

For Album 6, I chose Sixteen Stone by Bush.

I never was the popular kid in high school. I had a good circle of friends for several years in junior high and high school, but it was like I was tolerated or at best welcome to tag along.

I joined the Air Force and left home at age 17. I wasn’t really popular in the military either… just kind of trudging along, doing what I had to do, probably with the typical slouch and introvert stride–head bowed staring at my feet.

Then some of the “cool kids” at the smoke pit called me aside one day. I figured it was similar to the friendly ribbing I’d gotten throughout high school from the jocks and the popular crowd to the stoners down the street. Some folks feigning interest, trying to sort out what’s wrong with the nerdy kid that doesn’t join in the fun, or whatever.

Thankfully, one of the guys really was just reaching out, as if to say, “Hey, you’re alright. You should hang out with us.” It took a little time to believe that was the intent, but pretty soon I found myself welcomed into a group of close friends.

When I joined the Air Force, one big change affected me more than I realized: After years of constant access to a piano, it was a bit of a shock to not have one.

After a few months in Monterey, I got a Circuit City credit card (an arguably bad decision) and bought a Casio electric keyboard the first day.
I recall playing Glycerine with my keyboard’s guitar sounds, along with a bunch of other popular songs. At the insistence of my friends, I even got the chance to play at a local bar for about an hour before their band came on.

Bush was one of a number of albums I picked up in that first year away from home – mostly whatever was mainstream and trendy, or whatever caught my eye at the music store on Alvarado street down the hill from DLI.

Monterey is a beautiful place at any time or age, in my ever-humble opinion… but to have a full year with a good group of friends and a chance to carefully come out of my shell was an awesome experience.

Album 7 represents the slight pull that country has on my musical interests.

My closest friend at DLI and I would go driving around Asilomar Beach in Pacific Grove on lunch during the week, or occasionally on longer drives during the weekend–to the Santa Cruz boardwalk, or to the Salinas Mall, etc. Dan listened to a little of everything–all the metal and alternative stuff coming out at the time, but also hip-hop and yes, even country.

I was never a huge fan, but I admit, some of the ballads and story-telling songs catch my ear.

Garth Brooks is probably the one I enjoyed the most, and a compilation of hits is an easy if mainstream choice. You can’t go wrong with popular tunes like “Friends in Low Places” and rockers like “Callin’ Baton Rouge” mixed with emotional ballads (“The Thunder Rolls”), inspirational numbers (“Standin’ Outside the Fire”) and songs that hearkened to my Christian upbringing (“Unanswered Prayers” and “We Shall Be Free”).

“The Dance” is the song I would choose off this album if I had to pick just one. I love the piano instrumentals (of course), but the message is also great. We never know how it’s all going to end up. Maybe if we knew in advance, we could avoid some hurt, but we’d likely lose out on a lot of great times too.