Submarine Bells (1990)

My brief and intense infatuation with this glittering collection of Chills songs coincided with the onset of the first Iraq War and also, as it happens, initiated me to the CD format, which until then I had resisted. I had to listen to this one every day for several weeks; that's what the pleasure brought me to. From North America, New Zealand is so far away that it might as well be another fantasy planet, a place where all problems are solved and joy reigns supreme. Actually, I know better than that (as does principal songwriter Martin Phillips). But the brilliantly fresh sound of this album and its pop concoctions can often seem undimmed by the events of human history, large and small – even when the stories they contain belie at least the latter. The melancholy remains resolutely sweet.

Bandwagonesque (1991)

If Teenage Fanclub is a Big Star sound-alike, they have also taken pains to update the sound for the era of the loud and crunchy and they make noise like you-know-who never did (dare we say, "could"?). Point is, if anything this band looks more forward to Oasis than back at anything, constructing a slightly dust-obscured furious din of fray over and through which piercingly aching guitar and lilting vocal lines float and dart. Even harmonies. It's all very lovely and deliberate, and not a note or shriek of feedback is misplaced. Plus you can hum along with most of the songs – that's what makes it power pop, after all.

Stuff (1985)

Alex Chilton's EP Feudalist Tarts is a subset of this package, which also includes another EP, a single side or three, and various bonus tracks. Following Chilton's move to New Orleans in the early '80s, Feudalist Tarts marks a wonderful retreat to his Memphis instincts. I don't think any of the releases in this compilation, or even the compilation itself alas, did so well commercially, but then neither did Pleased to Meet Me and this is the real thing. Chilton gives Carla Thomas a run for her money on the pouty cover of "B-A-B-Y," has some fun acting all slick on Slim Harpo's "Tee Ni Nee Noo / Tip On In," and brings a breathtaking degree of sardonic, venomous contempt to Willie Tee's "Thank You John." Knocks it right out of the park, in fact. Like I said before, I appreciate Alex Chilton most the closer he gets to Memphis. Moving to New Orleans was good for him, if this set is any indication.

I Am the Cosmos (1974)

When Rykodisc brought out this solo Chris Bell album in 1992, there was cognitive dissonance. Bell was a member in good standing of Big Star on the band's first album, more of a ghost member on their second, and gone for Third. But with this album the relative contributions of Bell and Alex Chilton, or the way we understood them anyway, perhaps required some revision. The songs here are gorgeous, soaring, painful, introspective, melodic, depressing, and always, always deeply felt. Not, perhaps, to the levels of Third. But they sound enough just like the Big Star we know and love to alter the way things seem. It's not just Chilton holding the keys to this kingdom. I mean, talk about recovering lost masterpieces. This is brilliant stuff.

Third/Sister Lovers (1975)

Big Star's more or less last album traces a tortured history—many covers, many release dates, many tracking sequences, many names—which I suppose is "ironically on point" for an album whose music traces a tortured history of relationships gone foul and all life bitter and meaningless. Ptooey on your good times, etc. I have to laugh about it because otherwise I'm crying, etc. When you can sing along word for word with "Nightime" (please, accept no other spellings) and hit all the notes, you have just gained a level in despair. Congratulations. Music this dark and so honestly acknowledging of pain is paradoxically a joy to hear, albeit perhaps a cathartic joy. It's Big Star's best, I think. Don't miss the Christmas carol, "Jesus Christ," or the cover of "Femme Fatale." Winners.

The Letter/Neon Rainbow (1967)

"Neon Rainbow" An album like this is not supposed to sound as good as this one does. Named slash-wise for not one but two Box Tops hits, and otherwise filled with covers of the day: "Trains and Boats and Planes," "Whiter Shade of Pale," "I'm Your Puppet," and like that. That's not fair because there are a few more original songs here (thanks mostly to Wayne Carson, also the author of "Always On My Mind"), but you see my point. It's doing business in the Herman's Hermits fashion, the albums purely afterthought to hit singles. Oh, and by the way, that's really Alex Chilton on lead vocals, and he really is 16 at the time this was recorded. "The Letter" was the big hit but "Neon Rainbow" was the better song. Not only does it sound more like the voice of the Alex Chilton we came to know, it's more his sensibility too: the wide-eyed kid and the dirty, thrilling city at night. The key to Alex Chilton, always, is understanding how everything there always comes back to Memphis. And on this Box Tops debut he gets his share of gems to work, and he acquits himself well. A promising debut, you might say, with little indication where it would ultimately go.

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Moondance (1970)

This is what comes of return to home and recovery from trauma: Joy, and the lessons of faith. This is not only the best Van Morrison album, it's one of the best ever. Ev-AR. And I say that as someone principally concerned only with the first five songs (or the first vinyl side... the second side is good too). Every second of them is utterly and completely lived and inhabited and felt and communicated. You know the water let it run all over me. You know it's a marvelous night. You know she give him love love love. You know turn it up. Radio. Turn it up. Little bit higher. He turns his top 40 tricks spectacularly on the title song. The radio stations overplayed it, but I never got tired of it. "Crazy Love" – kinda corny, but if this is the weak song we should all have such weaknesses. Words completely fail "Caravan" and "Into the Mystic," but you keep time with them in the center of your soul. I insist that this is the tail end of a trilogy that turned out amazingly well.

L.A. Woman (1971)

Between a bubblegum knock derived from "Light My Fire" (or more likely "Hello I Love You") and the alleged presentation by Jim Morrison of his dick to a Miami audience, it's easy to forget that the two best Doors album were their last, when they had already officially failed and humiliated themselves and slunk away to lick wounds. This one, the very last, was released only a few months before Morrison died. It's as loose and freewheeling as anything they ever did, with plenty of small and happy discoveries along the way, and it sounds good loud too. Sure, we all got as tired of "Riders on the Storm" as we did of "Stairway to Heaven" and "Maggie May." That's a no-brainer. But who could have guessed how well "The WASP" would stand up over the years against the Gun Club and various assorted psychobillies?

Brian Auger's Oblivion Express (1971)

Another big fave from high school era this somehow ended up being the one and only Brian Auger album I ever cared for. Not even sure it's really his debut, though maybe so for the band. The artist he reminds me most of nowadays is Todd Rundgren playing with Utopia, post-Bitches Brew fusion with a decidedly pop flavor and little of the steaming atmospherics of Miles or the Soft Machine, instead erring on the side of martial and tidy. Kept his tempos nimble and quick. Played a reedy Hammond that nicely provided a variety of moods and layers of sound and dimension. Went to the right elements: Weird time signature, check. Cover of John McLaughlin, check. Majority stake in future members of Average White Band, check. What do you do? Rock it.