I’m trapped on a desert island with only a turntable — and presumably a way to generate electricity — and a certain number of record albums, let’s say 25.
In no particular order, as the boat with all my records is sinking, I grab:
Uncle Charlie and His Dog Teddy, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Will the Circle Be Unbroken, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and friends
Lil Beethoven, Sparks
Wildflowers, Tom Petty
Unchained, Johnny Cash
Thick As A Brick, Jethro Tull
Songs From the Wood, Jethro Tull
Led Zeppelin IV
On the Threshold of a Dream, The Moody Blues
Black Cadillac, Roseanne Cash
John B. Sebastian
Love and Theft, Bob Dylan
Judee Sill
Heart Food, Judee Sill
Ladies of the Canyon, Joni Mitchell
Blue, Joni Mitchell
Live at the Pershing, The Ahmad Jamal Trio
Born to Run, Bruce Springsteen
Lucky Town, Bruce Springsteen
Mirror Ball, Neil Young
Cracked Rear View, Hootie and the Blowfish
Tapestry, Carole King
Conversations, Sara Groves
Heart in Motion, Amy Grant
Crimson and Blue, Phil Keaggy
That’s 25? Wait, look at all that’s sinking under the waves — I forgot The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Bee Gees, Bachman Turner Overdrive, Rolling Stones, Kinks, The Who, Buffalo Springfield, CSNY, John Kongos, Simon and Garfunkel, Rodney Crowell, Van Morrison, Tommy James, The Monkees, Jason Mraz, oh dear oh dear oh dear …
Can I have a do-over? Can I grab 50 albums instead of 25? I’m sure if I try this same exercise tomorrow, I will have many repeats, but you have to know I’ll include Sgt. Pepper and SMiLE and Pet Sounds and Bridge Over Troubled Water.
So much music to love, so little time, and humans keep making more music every day. How do we find the time and energy to hate each other? More important, why?
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