Sam's Top 50 Favorite Albums of the '90s (Part 5)

Here it is, folks—the final installment of my top 50 favorite albums of the ‘90s! Here you’ll see the coveted Top 10. Make sure to check out parts one, two, three and four before you start to complain about an album that appears to be missing.

10. OK Computer by Radiohead (1997)

This is a pretty obvious choice for a ‘90s Radiohead album. While I do like The Bends (and kind of, sort of enjoy Pablo Honey), OK Computer is by far the superior album of the three. Before this album, Radiohead was just another Britpop band trying to make it big across the pond. OK Computer has a much more experimental sound (though not nearly as experimental as something like Kid A or Amnesiac, both of which came right after this album), but it’s surprisingly accessible. “Airbag” is a killer opening track, and songs like “Karma Police” and “Lucky” have the power to reach a wide audience. Since I have a thing for long, multi-part songs, my favorite song on this album (and favorite Radiohead song in general) is “Paranoid Android,” a track with so many layers that I just want to curl up and live in it. While OK Computer isn’t my favorite Radiohead album of all time (that title belongs to Hail to the Thief), it’s still a flawless record in an objective sense.

9. The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails (1994)

I’ve gushed about Nine Inch Nails plenty in my NIN entry, but let me just tell you how incredible The Downward Spiral is. The first NIN song I ever heard was “Closer,” and my little pre-teen mind was fascinated by the creepiness this band exuded. The Downward Spiral was recorded in the house where Sharon Tate was murdered by the Manson family, which makes the album all the more frightening. This is supposedly a concept album following an unnamed protagonist through his descent into his own psyche--and boy, is it twisted. The lyrics are pretty dark (see “Heresy” and “Hurt,” especially), but the instrumentation is really the most menacing aspect. Listen to the clicking backbeat in “Closer,” or the swirling chorus of screams in “The Becoming.” Scary, ain’t it? If I were able to include EPs in this list, Broken would probably top this album, but The Downward Spiral is an obvious winner for best NIN album of the ‘90s.

8. The Holy Bible by Manic Street Preachers (1994)

Oddly enough, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned Manic Street Preachers on this blog before. The Holy Bible is honestly the only Manics album I really enjoy, and I think that’s because it’s one of the darkest. Musically, it’s deceptively catchy. But lyrically, it deals with everything from British imperialism and fascism to anorexia and the Holocaust. It’s very much a politically charged album, taking on both the British and American governments. “Ifwhiteamericatoldthetruthforonedayitsworldwouldfallapart” is an especially biting criticism of racism in the US (though bassist Nicky Wire has said it’s not a completely anti-American song). “4st 7lb” is a fairly intense portrait of an eating disorder. (Warning to readers who are sensitive to mentions of anorexia: DO NOT listen to “4st 7lb.”) The Holy Bible sounds a lot like a post-punk album, but it also invokes new wave, industrial, art rock and goth rock styles. It’s an unapologetic album and I really admire the band’s audacity to write about such serious subjects on a rock record.

7. The Fat of the Land by The Prodigy (1997)

I’ve always loved this album for nostalgic reasons, but now that I’m older, I can really appreciate how great of a record this is. I grew up listening to a lot of electronic music and The Prodigy eventually became one of my favorite bands. The Fat of the Land was always on repeat in my mom’s car, and I remember being so entranced with songs like “Breathe” and “Narayan.” This album has the perfect mix of pumped up tracks (“Smack My Bitch Up,” “Firestarter”) and musically layered spectacles (“Narayan,” “Climbatize”). The Fat of the Land, like The Downward Spiral and The Holy Bible, is a fairly controversial album (mostly because of “Smack My Bitch Up”), but don’t let that deter you. Even if you don’t like electronic music, you’ll probably like this.

6. Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette (1995)

Angsty female singers of the ‘90s are my lifeblood. When I was younger, I wanted to be Alanis Morissette. Jagged Little Pill was Alanis’ first foray into alternative music, as her first two albums were of the dance-pop persuasion. But she sounds at home with the distorted guitars and harmonicas. The lyrical content always hits me hard, especially on tracks like “Perfect” and “Mary Jane.” There’s really a song for every mood on this album—“Mary Jane” is for those rough patches in life, “You Oughta Know” is for that awful breakup and “Head Over Feet” is for those special occasions when you find yourself in love with someone who really cares about you. So no, not all of Jagged Little Pill is endless angst, but even the slower songs have a certain intensity to them. Alanis isn’t afraid to get personal on this album and it definitely pays off.

5. Porno for Pyros by Porno for Pyros (1993)

I said this in my Jane’s Addiction entry, but I’ve always preferred Porno for Pyros over Jane’s Addiction. Perry Farrell is an entertainer, and Porno for Pyros always seemed like a better outlet for all that creativity than his first project. Of course, I still enjoy Jane’s Addiction (though not the more recent stuff), but this album just blows me away. When I went through my Woodstock ’94 phase (which I guess I’m still going through), I watched Porno for Pyros’ performance of “Cursed Female” and “Blood Rag” for the first time on YouTube. Both songs included a bit of performance art and I thought that was so rad. This band was edgy and psychedelic without trying too hard. Porno for Pyros is a fairly chill album compared to a typical Jane’s Addiction album, but the laid-back atmosphere is perfectly executed. The band’s second album is good, but not nearly as fantastic as this one. But apparently Perry and the gang are reuniting for a new PFP album soon. Fingers crossed.

4. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel (1998)

Let me just crack open a PBR and put on my hipster glasses for this one. But in all seriousness, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is life-changing. I discovered this album during my senior year in high school, and I shit you not, it changed my life. Senior year was a really weird time for me and this album helped me get through it. I know it’s the quintessential “hipster” record (and yes, before you ask, I have it on vinyl), but that doesn’t make it any less amazing. Sure, Neutral Milk Hotel is not everyone’s cup of tea. I can understand why some people just don’t dig anything this band has every done. Jeff Mangum’s voice isn’t always pitch-perfect and the instrumentation is sometimes off. But the first time I heard the title track, I was somehow able to ignore all those minor issues. It’s very rare for me to fall in love with an album upon first listen, but In the Aeroplane Over the Sea won me over on the first try. I love the strange instrumentation (the band used everything from a singing saw to a shortwave radio) and I adore Jeff’s cracking voice. And yes, I still cry every time I listen to “Oh Comely” and “Two-Headed Boy Part 2.”

3. Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness by Smashing Pumpkins (1996)

This album is 100% nostalgia for me. I mean, a track like “1979” just sounds like how nostalgia feels. It’s so comforting. I feel like I could wrap Mellon Collie around me like a big fluffy blanket and just sleep in it. And if I haven’t already mentioned this about a million times already, I really love concept albums. According to Billy Corgan, this isn’t really a concept album, though—the two halves (Dawn to Dusk and Twilight to Starlight) represent day and night. Nevertheless, the musical diversity on Mellon Collie is impressive. The Smashing Pumpkins go from moody, hard rock riffs on “Zero” to string arrangements on “Tonight, Tonight” to playful electronic effects on “Lily (My One and Only).” Mellon Collie was the last really great Pumpkins album, in my opinion. This record, along with Siamese Dream, really defines the band.

2. In Utero by Nirvana (1993)

Yes, I’m one of those people who likes In Utero more than Nevermind. But that’s not because I think I’m too cool to like Nevermind (if you recall, it still made my Top 20). I prefer In Utero because it’s so much darker and definitely more personal than its predecessor. I like dark things—who knew? This album kind of hearkens back to Nirvana’s Bleach days, but it’s not as sludgy. There are some delicate tracks on here (see “Dumb” and “All Apologies”), but the majority of the album is a heavily distorted punch in the face. The opening track, “Serve the Servants,” uses a droning guitar riff that’s almost hypnotizing, “Tourette’s” is one big feedback fest and “Scentless Apprentice” features some of the dirtiest drum work (and gnarliest screams) I’ve ever heard. Whether we know the true meanings of these songs or not, I still believe Kurt Cobain bared his soul on this record.

1. Dookie by Green Day (1994)

Was there anyone out there who didn’t see this one coming? As I have mentioned countless times on this blog, Green Day is my favorite band, so of course Dookie is my favorite album of the ‘90s. Sorry that I’m just too predictable (but I’m not really sorry). But come on—Dookie is a really fun record. Even if you hate everything Green Day’s ever done, you probably still have a soft spot for this album. It’s snotty and brash while still being radio friendly. It has a song with one of the best bass lines I’ve ever heard (that would be “Longview”). It just makes me really happy, okay? “When I Come Around” was one of the first songs I ever remember hearing on the radio, and I would make up words to sing just so I could sing along. While Dookie isn’t necessarily the one album that truly defines me (if I had to choose one, it would probably be American Idiot), it’s still an amazing album. I can listen to every song about a million more times and I would still never get sick of any of them.

Neutral Milk Hotel

Sound Familiar?

“In the Aeroplane Over the Sea,” “Holland, 1945”

Who Are They?

The king of indie bands (and carrot flowers).

For most casual ‘90s enthusiasts (those who own the odd compilation album and are aware of the existence of Nirvana), the name Neutral Milk Hotel doesn’t ring a bell. Not recognizing the name isn’t a criminal offense. I’m not gonna go all Pitchfork on your ass and berate your taste in music just because you’ve never heard “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.” What I will do is give you the lowdown on the magic created by Jeff Mangum.

In the early ‘90s, Jeff began experimenting with music in the band The Olivia Tremor Control, and later recorded some of his own stuff under the name Milk. Neutral Milk Hotel began as just a recording project for Jeff as he wandered the country jobless, homeless and the epitome of the phrase “starving artist.”

It wasn’t until after the release of Everything Is (a 4-song EP) and On Avery Island that NMH became a full-fledged band. Before that, it was just Jeff and some other guys who happened to be hanging around. Julian Koster, Scott Spillane, and Jeremy Barnes joined the party as permanent members and work on the follow-up to Avery Island began in 1996.

The masterpiece In the Aeroplane Over the Sea was released in 1998 to high praise from critics and almost no response from the public (everyone must have been too busy listening to “My Heart Will Go On” for the millionth time).

Aeroplane definitely stood out with its inventive instrumentation (I’m pretty sure NMH is one of the only bands to use a singing saw) and passionate (albeit confusing) lyrics. As the legend goes, Jeff’s inspiration for the album stemmed from reading The Diary of Anne Frank. Although he has never confirmed that Aeroplane is all about her, it’s still a pretty popular theory.

Not even a year after the album’s release, Jeff became disenchanted with the music business (a plague that seems to haunt most ‘90s artists) and the band went on an indefinite hiatus. In a decidedly Cobain-esque move, Jeff went into hiding, only reemerging for the odd private show.

Where Are They Now?

No longer a band, although Jeff keeps the memory alive.

While Jeff was in hiding, his bandmates started projects of their own. All three of them continue to release music under different names (Julian as The Music Tapes, Scott as The Gerbils, and Jeremy as A Hawk and a Hacksaw).

In 2005, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea was re-released by Domino Records and re-evaluated by critics. Pitchfork gave it an almost unheard of 10/10 rating. Can we just stop and take that in? That’s on par with Harry Potter riding a unicorn into Oz. This doesn’t happen every day, folks.

Jeff has become an infamous recluse for about a decade. He’s played a handful of private shows across the US, but no new recordings have surfaced.

But Why Neutral Milk Hotel?

Why, indeed? Well, Jeff Mangum is still alive. His latest appearance was at the All Tomorrow’s Parties Festival (yes, a festival) in the UK this past weekend. He also started a new website where he’s self-releasing a box set of Neutral Milk Hotel albums and unreleased tracks, but no new material as of right now.

Because the man is apparently an enigma (and cameras seem to be scarce at all his shows), I can only give you a taste of one of his live performances.

What Does Sam Think?

I’ll try my best to make this comprehensible (but I can’t make any promises).

I will admit that I have not been a Neutral Milk Hotel fan since the beginning. I had only heard the name mentioned by just about every music publication on the face of the earth. After some vigorous recommendations (or threats, rather) from friends, I finally gave this mysterious band a try.

And magic greeted my ears in the form of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea’s title track.

It’s very rare for me to immediately like a band upon first listen. It usually takes me a few tries to get into new music (see my love affair with Animal Colllective). However, NMH impressed me beyond reason.

So I’m sure you’re sitting here asking yourself, “What makes this band so damn special?” It’s difficult for me to give you a straight answer, so I’ll smash all my jumbled thoughts into this cliché expression: They’re so wrong, they’re right.

The distortion is almost oppressive, the horn section wavers in and out of tune, the lyrics make no sense, and Jeff’s voice leaves something to be desired. I don’t know if it’s sheer talent or just plain witchcraft, but all these seemingly atrocious qualities all work in the band’s favor.

If you forget everything you think you know about good music, you can hear the raw acoustics, the strange and subtle variation in instrumentation, and the pure emotions flowing from Jeff’s carefully constructed words.

I do acknowledge the fact that NMH isn’t for everyone. If you don’t like it, even after multiple attempts to like it, that doesn’t mean you have terrible taste in music. But once you “get” it, you’re hooked for life.

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is a beautiful album (as is On Avery Island) and Jeff Mangum is truly an artist. And I’m not just saying that because I’m a Mangum fangirl (although that may be part of the reason).

Still not convinced this band belongs on “best of” lists all over the Internet? Consider this: without Jeff Mangum and Neutral Milk Hotel, you probably wouldn’t have Franz Ferdinand or Arcade Fire.

--Sam Boyer, reporting from the ‘90s.