Spoon: Gimme Fiction (2005)

I have never vetted an album as thoroughly before buying it as I did Spoon's Gimme Fiction. I must have listened to the iTunes samples at least 20 times over the course of a week before deciding to buy it. I don't remember why I was so careful, but I made a good choice. I love everything about it, from the cover and the title to the opener (The Beast and Dragon Adored) to the closer (Merchants on Soul).

And, yes, I do want to land the part of Eddie in The Stranger Dance. Or at least see the production.

Bruce Springsteen: Tunnel of Love (1987)

In his first post-E-Street album (though many of the members show up) The Boss thoroughly explores romance. There's sadness (try to keep a dry eye during One Step Up or Walk Like a Man), confusion (Brilliant Disguise), jubilance (All That Heaven Will Allow), and determination (Tougher Than the Rest). Tunnel of Love is a great, under-appreciated work by an over-appreciated artist.

Spymob: Sitting Around Keeping Score (2004)

An album with an epic backstory (including almost being released by Epic Records), Sitting Around Keeping Score is a shiny gem of off-kilter pop. If you like melody and harmony, meticulously layered arrangements, and lyrics that are by turns funny, odd, and thought-provoking, this is an album for you.

Sting: Mercury Falling (1996)

My freshman year of college I discovered/re-discovered The Police, and so when Sting came out with a new album I had to get it. I knew some of his solo hits, but this was the first CD of his that I owned, and it will likely always be my favorite.

Starting and ending with the words of the title, in between there are gentle, catchy songs about various states of relationships. I'm So Happy I Can't Stop Crying is a great faux-country divorce song and All Four Seasons is a theme song for romantic bafflement.

The Strokes: Is This It (2001)

I saw The Strokes in early 2001, opening for The Doves at Minneapolis' tiny 7th Street Entry. The band weren't signed at that point, and Julian Casablancas came on stage drunk and downed at least three Heinekins in their brief set. He insulted the audience a couple of times and generally seemed like he could care less about whether we liked his songs.

But we did. I feel it's pretty fair to say The Strokes have yet to recapture the magic of this first album. At first I thought it was just the context of that moment before the "garage rock" revival, but even relistening 12 years later the tunes still leap out, somehow familiar in the context of rock history but still seeming like something completely new.

Being slightly ahead of the curve, I was able to find an early import version of their debut, with the Spinal Tap-approved cover and the insensitive-only-in-light-of-9-11-01 New York City Cops. That's the definitive version to me.

Storyhill: Dovetail (2002)

This is one of my favorite album covers of all time. Not only because it's clever and tells a story, but because it so perfectly captures the sound of the album itself, a tight 10-song affair that showcases Storyhill's tight harmonies and thoughtful songwriting.

Matthew Sweet: In Reverse (1999)

Matthew Sweet always seemed to have a Beach Boys fixation, but he goes all out on this album, even recording some songs with the same musicians who played on Pet Sounds. The results are gorgeous, with walls of sound, choirs of Matthews, and brilliant melodies.

Talking Heads: Stop Making Sense (Special Edition) (1999)

From the greatest concert film of all time comes the greatest live record of all time (in my opinion, of course). The energy coming off of this the monstrous 9-piece line-up of the band is indescribable. And the song selection is almost perfectly representative of the band's first 7 years.

I specify the 1999 Special Edition because you get all the songs from the movie, plus extras, totaling 16 songs. This makes the original 9-song 1984 release seem hopelessly anemic, especially considering many of the cuts on the LP were edited for time. (It's the rare case where the CD is better than the LP).

James Taylor: Greatest Hits (1976)

This is the prototype for greatest hits packages. It's chronological, concise, has (almost) perfect song selection, and doesn't muddy things up with new songs (well, except for rerecordings of Something In the Way She Moves and Carolina In My Mind, both of which I like better than the originals).

It's also completely essential. In many cases hits collections can't hope to compare to actual albums, but for someone like James Taylor, who tended to make uneven records, it was the perfect format.

James Taylor: New Moon Shine (1991)

I was terribly homesick my first month of college, and there were three records that got me through it: R.E.M.'s Automatic for the People, Counting Crows' August and Everything After, and this one. My mom (a big JT fan; she played his albums a ton when I was little) bought it for me out of the Target discount bin on a day visit, and I grasped on to Taylor's familiar tones even though all the songs were new to me. Listening to it now, I get nostalgia for my nostalgia. Favorites include Copperline, Down in the Hole, (I've Got To Stop) Thinkin' 'Bout That, and Like Everyone She Knows.

They Might Be Giants: Apollo 18 (1992)

If Flood is the album that made me a fan of They Might Be Giants, Apollo 18 is the album that made me an obsessive fan of They Might Be Giants. What a weird record, even by TMBG standards. I Palindrome I starts with the line "Someday mother will die and I'll get the money / Dad leans down and says, 'My sentiments exactly, you son of a bitch." Spider is a theme song to a nonexistent Japanese cartoon that I'd love to watch. And of course the strangest and most impressive accomplishment is a dizzying 21 song-snippet medley called Fingertips. Other faves include My Evil Twin, The Statue Got Me High, The Guitar (The Lion Sleeps Tonight), and See the Constellation.

'Til Tuesday: Everything's Different Now (1988)

I found this on vinyl in my college radio station's collection, borrowed it, became obsessed, and then decided to "borrow" it permanently. This was 'Til Tuesday's third and final album and featured Aimee Mann's songwriting skills coming into full blossom (along with some famous help: Matthew Sweet and Elvis Costello both have writing credits).

Every song is about love, and since it's Aimee Mann, there's only one ray of hope about the topic on the whole album (the last song, How Can You Give Up). The rest of the songs have titles like Why Must I, Long Gone (Buddy) and Crash & Burn. This is my choice for the ultimate breakup album. It's brilliant from start to finish.

Van Halen: Best of Volume 1 (1996)

First, if you are holding your breath for Volume 2, you can exhale. It's not gonna happen. The band threw out that opportunity when they put out The Best of Both Worlds in 2004. It's a shame, because the purpose of that compilation was to showcase three new songs from the short-lived Van Hagar reunion, so all they had to do was take those and add the glaring omissions from Volume 1 (You Really Got Me, Jamie's Cryin', Everybody Wants Some!!, Hot For Teacher, I'll Wait, Finish What Ya Started, Runaround, Top of the World, Not Enough).

Instead, Volume 1 stands alone, incomplete, but thrilling nonetheless. Outside of their debut, Van Halen's individual albums (both with Dave and Sammy) are riddled with filler so it's no wonder a culling of the best catapults to the top of their output.

Various Artists: Chartaction '83 (1983)

For my sixth birthday I received a Walkman and this tape, purchased by my mom and step-dad at Sears. My mom recalls that there was a certain song on the tape I'd been obsessed with, and that's why they chose it. My guess would be Goody Two Shoes or Come on Eileen, as those would seem to be most appealing to a 6-year-old, but I don't really know. I doubt it was Sexual Healing.

In the days before NOW CDs (and YouTube and iTunes) K-Tel and Ronco cornered the market on compiling current hits. This was from the former. One might think that throwing a bunch of hits together is an easy job, but it's not. Whoever made this either by design or accident nailed a certain sense of flow and consistent quality.

So if we're assigning blame for me becoming a music obsessive, it just might fall to my mom and step-dad.

Various Artists: Pretty In Pink (1987)

It's as though Duckie made you a 10-song mix tape and slipped it into your locker. His primary motif is prime '80s new wave: OMD, New Order, Echo and the Bunnymen, INXS, and and Psychedelic Furs (of course). There are some obscure, but worthy, tracks from Danny Hutton Hitters and Belouis Some. He's got a track by Time guitarist Jesse Johnson and a song from Suzanne Vega that preceded her commercial breakthrough by a matter of months. And he caps it off with The Smiths, who are probably his favorite band.

His only mistake was not including the song his mother used to play for him: Otis Redding's Try a Little Tenderness.

Various Artists: Say Anything... (1989)

Read a review here.

A genre-hopping mixtape from Lloyd Dobbler's cassette deck to your ears. Perfect for kickboxing, driving around in your Malibu looking for a drunk kid's house, or standing outside of Diane Court's bedroom window. There's rock (Living Colour's Cult of Personality, Joe Satriani's One Big Rush), funk (Red Hot Chili Peppers' Taste the Pain), ska (Fishbone's Skankin' to the Beat), electro pop (Depeche Mode's Stripped), and ballads (The Replacements' Within Your Reach, Freiheit's Keepin' the Dream Alive, Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes).

Vicious Vicious: Don't Look So Surprised (2005)

Read a review here.

This novella of an album (it's only 34 minutes long) is the story of our narrator, a troubled girl named Jenny, and their doomed romance (their relationship is summarized by the line: "I say Spin the Bottle, you say Truth or Dare"). Even better, despite the interwoven lyrical threads and overall plot, each song stands on its own.

Rufus Wainwright: Want One (2003)

Until further notice, Want One is Rufus Wainwright's masterpiece. The songwriting is spot-on, the vocals are captivating, and the musical arrangements are full and immediate. Oh What a World, I Don't Know What It Is, Vibrate, Beautiful Child, 11:11, and Want are all personal faves, especially the latter which contains a line ("Just want to be my dad / With a slight sprinkling of my mother.") I could have easy written for myself.

Weezer: Weezer (1994)

I wasn't much educated on pop music in 1994, but I did work in the K-Mart electronics department. One of my co-workers bore an uncanny resemblance to Rivers Cuomo in the Buddy Holly video. Another co-worker recognized this, taped it, and brought it into work.

At first I watched it just for lookalike factor, then because the video was so damn clever, and then because I couldn't get the song out of my head. I bought the album, and it became one of the first records I ever got obsessed with.

The Who: Who's Next (1971)

I'm generally not a Who fan, but this album, wow. It was the result of a failed attempt by Pete Townsend to create a rock opera follow-up to Tommy. Called Lifehouse, the story was mainly concerned with conveying the power of music. When the project was scrapped following a nervous breakdown by Townsend, its best songs became Who's Next.

And that was a win for everybody, because Lifehouse's ultimate message comes through loud and clear by default. The album starts with Baba O'Reily (often mislabeled as "Teenage Wasteland") and ends with Won't Get Fooled Again; in between are two of the band's best ballads (The Song Is Over and Behind Blue Eyes) and some great tunes that keep things moving (notably Bargain and Love Ain't For Keeping).

Wilco: Summerteeth (1999)

Read a review here.

When it came out in 1997, I reviewed Summerteeth  for my college newspaper and declared it Wilco's best album. That was out of two albums and Mermaid Avenue. Sixteen years and 6 additional albums later I still believe that (though my estimation of their debut, AM, continues to rise, and Wilco (The Album) was pretty damn good).

The Beatles/Beach Boys fixation of songs like Can't Stand It, I'm Always in Love, and Candyfloss still do it for me. And I don't believe they've recorded a more thrilling moment than the first 45 seconds of ELT.

Robbie Williams: Reality Killed the Video Star (2010)

"Your country's refusal to embrace Robbie Williams will forever baffle me." - Shivrang, New Girl

I love Robbie Williams. He's the most eclectic and intriguing pop star currently operating. Reality Killed the Video Star (a clever triple entendre considering it was produced by Buggles member Trevor Horn), his eighth album, is a showcase for that. For me, it's also the only album of his that completely hangs together.

His lyrical depth and complexity is on display in Morning Sun and Difficult For Weirdos. His pop instincts shine on Bodies and Do You Mind. And his balladic skill reigns on You Know Me and Superblind.

XTC: Skylarking (1986)

This is an album that could be a soundtrack to flowers blooming and trees budding, but don't mistake its sweetness for weakness. Here's how Big Day describes marriage: "Could be heaven / Could be hell / In a cell for two". In Earn Enough for Us a husband greets the news that he's going to be a father by saying, "Don't get me wrong / I'm so proud / But the belt's already tight." And Another Satellite is a terrible brush-off from a man who doesn't want a woman around (she'd just be another moon clogging up his orbit). The melodies and harmonies are so impeccable that even songs about death and human sacrifice sound beautiful.

XTC: Nonsuch (1992)

When I first got Nonsuch I was still an XTC novice and I mistook it for a best of collection. That's how good it is, from the cryptic opener The Ballad Of Peter Pumpkinhead to the elegiac closer Books Are Burning. In between there are songs about monkeys being smarter than men, jealousy, unfair romantic relationships, falling in love, a girl playing on a toy horse, and war-mongering.

This was the last record XTC made before embarking on a 7 year strike, but is was almost enough to last that whole time.

"Weird Al" Yankovic: In 3-D (1984)

Read a review here.

"Weird Al"'s finest album. The parodies (Eat It, The Brady Bunch, I Lost on Jeopardy, King of Suede. Theme from Rocky XIII) are uniformly strong. The originals (Midnight Star, Mr. Popeil, That Boy Could Dance, Gonna But Me a Condo, Nature Trail to Hell) are actually original (as opposed to the musical thievery Al would pull on his later style parodies), and the polka medley is a effective mix of old and new.