Now that I am retired, with extra time on my hands, I’ve embarked on a re-examination of my favorite music. This list, ranking my favorite 50 albums, is intended for my children (and others) to discover forgotten gems — or, at least, to understand what has influenced and delighted me over the years.

You’ll notice some common themes. Most of the albums were released in 1979 — when I graduated college — and 1992, when I hung out with musicians and was introduced to a broader collection. Also, I tend to gravitate toward sad or tortured music, and appreciate clever lyrical wordplay. A sad song always makes me feel… better by comparison?

Some disclaimers:

First, I am not a musician, nor a music critic, nor someone who can easily distinguish between talent and mere effort. These may not be the BEST albums, technically or lyrically, but they are my favorites.

Second, I include only those albums I’ve heard all the way through and purchased. As a result, I’ve neglected many worthy artists, and genres I wasn’t exposed to.

Finally, the albums cover my peak listening era: from 1970 (when I was 13 years old, and bought my first albums) to 1997 (when we were blessed with our first of five children). I’ve listened to plenty of good music since then, but nowhere near the intensity of the late 20th century.

Please note that I have edited the original list, dropping out albums by Helium, Blondie, and Teenage Fanclub to make room for careless omissions. Sorry!

Here’s the list, starting with my 50th favorite album and proceeding to my all-time favorite, with commentary included for some of them:

(50) The Pixies, Doolittle (1989). My original version of the list omitted this album, but, upon reflection, it deserves to be included. I tend to downplay this album because of the two songs (“Monkey Gone to Heaven” and “Here Comes Your Man”) that are overplayed, but I can’t deny “Gouge Away,” “Wave of Mutilation,” and “No. 13 Baby.” The Pixies are, after all, my favorite band of all time, and this is the first of their four appearances on the list.

(49) Patti Smith Group, Radio Ethiopia (1976). I saw PSG in concert at a small club as they toured in support of this album. Recognizing that she was in a college town, Patti asked if anyone in the audience studied archaeology, and then proclaimed: “Hail! Hail! Archaeology!” I liked the energy of this album, but, as you’ll see, she appears again later.

(48) Soundgarden, A-Sides (1997). Originally, I told myself that this list could contain no compilation albums. But then I thought: this is my list, so I can make or break any rules. Unable to select any Soundgarden albums that I liked all the way through, I opted for this greatest hits collection.

(47) Morrissey, Bona Drag (1990). I was reluctant to include any of Morrissey’s solo albums on the list, given how much I like his bandmates in the Smiths, but some of his best lyrics appear here. For example, the closing lyrics of “Piccadilly Palare” (“It may all end tomorrow / or it could go on forever / in which case I’m doomed”) speak to me about living a long but unhealthy life (as I witnessed in my parents’ final years). Also, the closing lines of “Disappointed” (“This is the last song I will ever sing (crowd cheers) / No, I changed my mind again (crown groans) / Goodnight and thank you”) should have truly been Morrissey’s last recording — what a way to bow out!

(46) Lush, Gala (1990). Truth be told, Lush inspired this list — as will be explained later — and each of the band’s first three studio albums appear on the list.

(45) Stone Temple Pilots, Purple (1994).

(44) L7, Bricks are Heavy (1992).

(43) PJ Harvey, Dry (1992).

(42) Scrawl, Velvet Hammer (1993). The band’s lead guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter, Marcy Mays, worked as a temporary at my corporation, and was a kind friend. She introduced me to other music — like Young Marble Giants — and welcomed me within her local arts community. She even invited me backstage at one of her concerts in Cincinnati, when Scrawl was the opening act for Bob Mould’s band Sugar. I got to watch Sugar from behind the curtain! One of my treasured possessions is a cassette tape that Marcy recorded for me as a Christmas gift in 1992. (She included my favorite Scrawl song, “Please Have Everything,” from her prior album.). Of course, my Christmas gift to her that year was a hammer wrapped in velvet fabric in honor of this album. (I had a hard time finding a piece of velvet cloth, and ended up purchasing a purple velvet beanie that I cut and sewed onto the hammer.) We drifted apart over the years, but I have nothing but the fondest memories of her music, her generosity, and her sharp artistic mind.

(41) Urge Overkill, Supersonic Storybook (1991). “The Candidate” is one of my favorite all-time songs (along with “Her Way of Praying” by The Jesus and Mary Chain, who, sadly, didn’t quite make the list).

(40) Sonic Youth, Dirty (1992).

(39) Cracker, Kerosene Hat (1993). When I visited my ailing mother in the hospital, the gorgeous song “Take Me Down to the Infirmary” would usually play in my head.

(38) Everclear, Sparkle and Fade (1995).

(37) The Smiths, debut studio album (1984). I really have three favorite bands of all time: the Pixies (in their original lineup), Lush, and the Smiths. All of their work is outstanding. I’ve recently come to appreciate Johnny Marr, the principal songwriter and lead guitarist of the Smiths, and, for me, his talent really shines on this album (and their next album, “Meat is Murder”). Although the title of the song “Pretty Girls Make Graves” is cringeworthy, Marr’s instrumental work at the end of the song is just so beautiful.

(36) The Pixies, Trompe le Monde (1991). I also excluded this album from the original list because I thought the second half was spotty — which is true — but it’s still the Pixies. “Distance Equals Rate Times Time” was my total eclipse song on April 8, 2024. I particularly enjoy how “Planet of Sound” leads right into “Alec Eiffel” — my two favorite Pixies songs. I saw an interview years ago with bandleader Charles Thompson (also known as Black Francis, and then Frank Black) where he explained that “Planet of Sound” is about an alien spacecraft looking for the planet that emits radio waves (Earth, presumably) but keeps landing on the wrong planet. Outer space is a recurring theme in Pixies songs, but particularly on this album.

(35) The B-52s, debut album (1979).

(34) Jackson Browne, The Pretender (1976).

(33) Pat Benatar, Get Nervous (1982).

(32) Camper van Beethoven, Key Lime Pie (1989).

(31) DePeche Mode, Violator (1990).

(30) Alice in Chains, Dirt (1992).

(29) Throwing Muses, Hunkpapa (1989). I still have (and wear) a Hunkpapa t-shirt.

(28) The Who, Who’s Next (1971).

(27) Superchunk, Foolish (1994). I saw Superchunk in concert — Scrawl was the opening act — and was mesmerized by bass guitarist Laura Ballance bobbing her head up and down throughout each song.

(26) Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Rust Never Sleeps (1979). I’ve been to dozens of live concerts, but, to my utter surprise, the best I ever attended, after being offered free tickets a few hours beforehand, featured Neil Young and Crazy Horse. Watching the band mesh and jam on “Like a Hurricane” and “Cinnamon Girl” — and seeing the intensity on their faces as they played — was riveting.

(25) Bob Mould, Black Sheets of Rain (1990). I read somewhere that Bob wrote these songs in response to a romantic breakup. They’re so sad!

(24) Warren Zevon, Excitable Boy (1978). Having read a biography of Warren Zevon, and how he was an unapologetic womanizer, the excellent song “Accidentally Like a Martyr” seems to describe one of his fading romances.

(23) Emmylou Harris, Quarter Moon in a Ten Cent Town (1978). I don’t often listen to country or bluegrass music, but I find it so soothing. The song “Green Rolling Hills” from this album reminds me of my many business trips to Charleston, West Virginia, and my colleagues there who would play live country music for me.

(22) The Smiths, The Queen is Dead (1986). I originally rated this album higher because of the clever, often hilarious lyrics, and, morbidly, the inevitable references to death that appear in almost all Smiths songs, but ultimately decided that the lyrics were sometimes too clever and not quite as meaningful as what you’ll hear, for example, on the Smiths’ prior album, “Meat is Murder” (coming later in the list).

(21) The Pretenders, debut album (1979). Had it not been for the three singles from this album that I like less — “Brass in Pocket,” “Kid,” and “Stop Your Sobbing” — I would rank this album much higher. Has there ever been a better song to introduce a band to the world than “Precious”? And “Tattooed Love Boys” has taken on greater significance when I recently learned that it describes real, horrific events.

(20) Elvis Costello, Armed Forces (1979). Just clever wordplay throughout, such as: “She’s my soft-touch typewriter, and I’m the great dictator” from “Two Little Hitlers.”

(19) Linda Ronstadt, Heart Like a Wheel (1974).

(18) Matthew Sweet, Altered Beast (1993).

(17) Oasis, Definitely Maybe (1994). I didn’t include this album among my top 50 originally, but my 19-year-old son insisted that I give his favorite band another listen — and, as usual, he was right.

(16) Throwing Muses, The Real Ramona (1991).

(15) Patti Smith, Horses (1975). I vividly remember hearing the song “Land” from this album on the radio on Christmas Day, 1975, while getting ready to visit another family for dinner. I’ve never heard anything like it before or since.

(14) The Cars, Candy-O (1979).

(13) The Cure, Disintegration (1989). I dislike much of the Cure’s catalog, but this album captures the band at its pinnacle.

(12) Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti (1975). My son recently treated me to a showing of the Led Zeppelin documentary (“Becoming Led Zeppelin”) that covers the band’s formation through their second album. I admire how Jimmy Page was able to fulfill his vision, and surround himself with brilliant musicians. (For me, the documentary exposes the under-appreciated talent of John Paul Jones.) Of their eight studio albums (prior to John Bonham’s death), seven of them — all except “Presence” — are, in my opinion, true classics, and I could have easily placed them all on this list. So, here’s a list within my list of the top Led Zeppelin albums, in order: (1) Physical Graffiti (a double album with every song outstanding, particularly “The Rover”); (2) Led Zeppelin III (I enjoy how “Friends” transitions into “Celebration Day” but my favorite song here is “Since I’ve Been Loving You”); (3) Led Zeppelin II (with John Paul Jones’ bass guitar featured on “The Lemon Song”); (4) Led Zeppelin I (more bluesy than the others, but that’s a plus, highlighted by “You Shook Me” and “How Many More Times”); (5) In Through the Out Door (most songs written by Jones, my favorite being the ten minute “Carouselambra”); (6) Houses of the Holy — and let’s pause here and appreciate that I could place these first 6 albums in any order and be just as pleased; (7) Led Zeppelin IV (most people consider this the best Led Zeppelin album, and it is good, but it’s been overplayed over the years and, in my opinion, falls well behind the aforementioned six); and finally (7) Presence (and I don’t believe I like ANY songs on this album).

(11) PJ Harvey, Rid of Me (1993).

(10) David Bowie, Station to Station (1976). I originally planned to rate this album higher, but, upon further research, another Bowie album eclipses it. My local radio station played this album in its entirety one night, and the first (title) song — which I hadn’t heard before — just enchanted me.

(9) Lush, Spooky (1992). This album, too, would rank higher if not for another Lush album which I like slightly better.

(8) The Smiths, Louder Than Bombs (1987).

(7) The Pixies, Surfer Rosa (1988).

(6) The Pretenders, Learning to Crawl (1984).

(5) The Rolling Stones, Sticky Fingers (1971). All the Mick Taylor-era Stones albums are exceptional, but this one stands out for me.

(4) David Bowie, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars (1972). What I like most about my top albums is that the songs seem to tell a coherent story — that is, all the songs fit together, and they’re ALL good, with no filler. This album does so better than any other.

After my 37-year corporate career, I spent the last 7 years of my working life as a high school mathematics teacher. The students were wonderful, but it broke my heart to see so many of them struggle with depression and suicidal thoughts. The last song on this album, “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide,” makes me think of them, and how I tried to make them feel loved — as explained in the lyrics:

“Oh no, love, you’re not alone
No matter what or who you’ve been
No matter when or where you’ve seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I’ve had my share, I’ll help you with the pain
You’re not alone!”

(3) The Smiths, Meat is Murder (1985). I originally rated this album lower on the list, but after a re-listen it’s clearly one of my very favorite albums. I’ve heard the song “How Soon is Now?” hundreds of times since 1985, but the haunting introduction still moves me — particularly at maximum volume. When bass guitarist Andy Rourke passed away recently, I recalled his brilliant work on “Barbarism Begins at Home.” The lyrics from “Nowhere Fast” (“And when I’m lying in my bed / I think about life and I think about death / And neither one / particularly / appeals to me”) captured my feelings of aimlessness. Heck, EVERY song spoke to 20-something me. The songs still hold their value today, even though I’ve moved beyond their feelings of desperation and hopelessness.

(2) The Pixies, Bossanova (1990). This would have been my top album if I constructed my list last year, but, as you’ll read next, the top album has a strong personal significance. The melodies, and Joey Santiago’s guitar work, place this apart from all the other Pixies albums.

(1) Lush, Split (1994). Both of my parents passed away earlier this year — they lived full lives, aged 89 and 92 — but, in mourning, I would listen to my music. For some reason, I gravitated toward my Lush albums, and rediscovered the brilliant melodies and harmonies of Miki Berenyi and Emma Anderson. (True story: my second child was named Emma partly because of Ms. Anderson, the band’s lead guitarist, backup vocalist, and co-songwriter.) I also read Miki’s excellent autobiography this summer, and learned that the first song from the album — “Light from a Dead Star” — tells the story of her difficult childhood, and the last song — “When I Die” — is about the passage of Emma’s own father. The highlight for me, though, is Emma’s song “Desire Lines” and the climax that occurs right before the 4 minute mark.

This album, more than any other, got me through a traumatic period in my life and brought joy to replace grief and sadness. And isn’t that the true purpose of art?

Addendum: I posted a link to this list on Twitter, and tagged Emma and Miki from Lush, plus the Pixies, given their prominent placement (and the fact that I’ve followed them all on Twitter for years). Miki quickly responded with words of comfort and appreciation, demonstrating what a kind, thoughtful, and decent human being she is:

I feel even more justified in placing her album at the top of my list, and my daughter Emma and I have resolved to see her perform — which, sadly, I’ve never done before — during her visit to the U.S. (or elsewhere) in 2024. (And we DID see her perform in Chicago on June 7, 2024 — Emma’s 25th birthday.)

Honorable mention:

The following albums didn’t quite make the Top 50 list, but are still noteworthy.

• Traffic, John Barleycorn Must Die (1970)
• The Jesus and Mary Chain, Automatic (1989)
• Helium, The Dirt of Luck (1995)
• Blondie, Eat to the Beat (1979)
• Joni Mitchell, Blue (1971)
• Lucinda Williams, Sweet Old World (1992)
• Teenage Fanclub, Bandwagonesque (1991)