“What really matters is what you like, not what you are like.”
– Nick Hornby, High Fidelity (1995)
Readers who have enjoyed our interviews from time to time know that we typically ask artists to share their five favorite albums of all time at the end of our conversations with them. No matter who the artist is, it’s always fascinating to discover which long players have impacted their personal and professional lives. A few of our interview subjects have even scoffed at the standard five-album limit, rattling off upwards of a dozen or so titles and second-guessing if they’ve made the right choices.
Today, and considering that we’re still in the midst of the year 2020, we’re excited to reveal our writers’ respective lists of their 20 all-time favorite albums. We all reserve the right to change our minds about these choices in the future, but for now, here are the indispensable albums that we can’t live without and the reasons why.
Explore Steven Ovadia’s 20 favorites below, click the “Next” button at the bottom of the page to browse the lists or return to the main index.
The Band | The Last Waltz
Warner Bros. (1978)
The film, directed by Martin Scorsese is a wonderful train wreck, Neil Young allegedly having a coke smudge that needed to be removed in post-production, Muddy Waters' performance almost missed because cameras were changing film, and The Band seemingly completely disconnected from reality and each other. The album brings none of that baggage. It's just solid performances of iconic songs, a blinder to help you focus on the music and not the drama. Although the drama could give any season of The Bachelor a good run for its money.
The Black Crowes | Shake Your Money Maker
Def American (1990)
Written off as Rolling Stones rip-offs upon its release, it's aged well. This sounds like the Stones, aided in huge part by Chuck Leavell's prominent keyboards, Leavell practically a full member of the Stones. But while the Black Crowes cop a sound, they do an extraordinary job of recreating an idealized, focused, heavy version of the Stones that never existed.
Eddie Boyd | 7936 South Rhodes
Blue Horizon (1968)
Eddie Boyd was a blues singer/pianist. He made this wonderful album with Fleetwood Mac, back when Fleetwood Mac were still a British blues band. Given Fleetwood Mac's pop fame, it's easy to forget just how good a blues band they once were. The late guitarist Peter Green, who eventually left the band due to mental illness (paving the way for the more commercially successful Lindsey Buckingham/Stevie Nicks lineup), is in fine form, but Boyd's voice and piano are the heart of this album.
[Note: 7936 South Rhodes is not available via streaming platforms]
Derek and The Dominos | Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs
Polydor/Atco (1970)
If Eric Clapton had only crafted this because of his love for Pattie Boyd, the wife of Clapton's best friend, Beatle George Harrison, it would have drama and intensity to spare. But throw in Duane Allman's guitar work and you have a nearly perfect album.
Steve Earle | El Corazón
Warner (1997)
There's something striking in the ordinariness of this album. Steve Earle wrote a dozen fantastic songs and delivers them flawlessly. It's one of the few albums that doesn't have a moment where you feel the artist needed to spend more time on a track. These songs are all complete, veering from gentle folk to Neil Young power to smart country. It's simple but rare, an album I reach for when I just want something good.
John Frusciante | Shadows Collide with People
Warner Bros. (2004)
John Frusciante is best known as the on-again off-again on-again guitarist/songwriter for the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but he's also a prolific solo artist whose work hints at the Chili Peppers’ sound, but is more avant-garde. Shadows Collide with People is the closest he comes to accessible, with hummable melodies and straight-forward rock arrangements—the Peppers sans id, as Freud might have diagnosed—presenting the most direct line from his solo work to the funk-rock masters. It stands on its own, but it’s also an interesting insight into a huge band's songwriting process.
Guns N’ Roses | Live Era ’87-‘93
Geffen (1999)
This was originally Appetite for Destruction, one of my all-time favorite albums. But Live Era is up there. Guns N' Roses were an exciting, if occasionally uneven, live band. Cherry-picking their best performances makes for an energizing record, that while lacking the chaos of one of their live shows, begins and ends at a much more reasonable, and predictable, hour.
George Harrison with Eric Clapton and Band | Live in Japan
Dark Horse (1992)
Not only did Clapton steal Harrison's wife, Pattie Boyd, he made a record about his love for her (1970’s Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs). And somehow Clapton and Harrison remained friends. This is a nice survey of Harrison's catalog, which is much deeper than people tend to think it is. In fact, I'd say, of all of the Beatles, Harrison's solo work is the strongest.
Led Zeppelin | Led Zeppelin IV
Atlantic (1971)
An unofficial gateway album into Led Zeppelin’s work, this is where many new fans started, before YouTube, since it had so many classic rock radio staples, like "Black Dog," "Rock and Roll," and, of course, "Stairway to Heaven." At a tight eight songs, four per side, there's no fat on this album, which shows Zeppelin's hard and soft dimensions.
My Bloody Valentine | Loveless
Creation/Sire (1991)
The beauty of Loveless is that it's not an album so much as it’s an experience. It's layered sound waves, almost like two different oceans placed on top of each other. It's not something where you put on your favorite song; it's more like opening a sleeve of crackers and knowing you're going to devour the entire thing. Every time.
Ozzy Osbourne | Tribute
Epic/CBS (1987)
Ozzy made just two albums with guitar player Randy Rhoads, before Rhoads died in a plane crash. Rhoads' studio guitar work is impeccable classically influenced heavy metal, yet also soulful. Tribute is no different. I was also touched by how Ozzy made an album for a friend, making Rhoads work on the album, and its cover, prominent. It always struck me as a very sweet gesture.
Jimmy Page & The Black Crowes | Live at The Greek
Musicmaker/TVT (2000)
As a rabid Led Zeppelin fan, I spent most of my childhood and young adulthood lamenting that the band was broken up. Of course, whenever Zeppelin would reunite, the results were always disappointing. The electricity was gone. Hearing Page in a band, even if it's not his own, he sounds completely reinvigorated. And while Black Crowes’ lead singer Chris Robinson sounds nothing at all like Zeppelin's Robert Plant, that actually works in his favor.
Tom Petty | Wildflowers
Warner Bros. (1994)
Tom Petty's approach never changed between albums. He always went in wanting to create great songs. And he always succeeded. But he was especially locked-in on Wildflowers, perhaps due to his break from his band, the Heartbreakers, or perhaps as a subconscious response to grunge exploding around him. The beauty of the album is its intimacy, though. You feel like Petty's in the room with you the whole time, even on the faster electric songs.
The Rolling Stones | Let It Bleed
Decca (1969)
This is pretty much a Keith Richards tour-de-force, although the album features past and present-at-the-time Stones guitarists Brian Jones and Mick Taylor, neither of whom plays much guitar on the album. Let It Bleed is killer songs, showing a band at its most focused. Where, as we saw with Shake Your Money Maker, the Stones can be a fairly easy band to borrow from, this is an album of beautiful flourishes and achingly lovely rock & roll moments that very few bands are capable of copying.
The Smiths | Rank
Rough Trade/Sire (1988)
Smiths fans always get mad at me for loving this album so much. They seem to prefer the mopier studio albums. That's precisely why I love Rank, which has a wonderfully happy energy, even the slower tracks. It's a great album for people who like Smiths songs, but require a bit more mustard on their, of course, meatless hot dog.
Hound Dog Taylor and The HouseRockers | Beware of the Dog!
Alligator (1976)
Hound Dog always seemed to cut things live. None of his studio albums sound like Steely Dan. So a live album is a bit redundant, but the sun comes up every day and we don't get sick of that. The album features a cover of the iconic Elmore James slide tune "Dust My Broom." While no one will ever top James' original, Taylor delivers one of my all-time favorite versions of it.
Tesla | Five Man Acoustical Jam
Geffen (1990)
I first bought this on cassette and have probably owned it a few different ways since then. It's a great mix of originals and covers. Tesla was an ‘80s metal band, but this was their big breakthrough, on the strength of their "Signs" single and video. I could never get into their electric music, and I tried, but this album still holds up surprisingly well. It's not quite Americana, but it's definitely American, and has a lovely, surprisingly organic feel.
Van Halen | Fair Warning
Warner Bros. (1981)
Van Halen's darkest album, it's the original David Lee Roth incarnation of the band showing the flip side of partying. If the other Roth-era albums are day drinking at the beach, Fair Warning feels like it takes place in a bar at 3am, when you're wondering how you wound up there. Clocking in at just over 30 minutes, it efficiently creates the decade's standard for glam-metal.
Various Artists | Bob Dylan: The 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration
Columbia (1993)
This is a live tribute to the music of Bob Dylan. I love Dylan's songs but I'm not a huge fan of him as a performer. I take no pleasure in saying that, as I'm married to a committed Dylan fan. This album gives me his songs, but with performances that work better for someone of my disposition. Neil Young puts in some exceptional work on "Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues" and "All Along the Watchtower." Chrissie Hynde is fantastic on "I Shall Be Released." It's great artists tackling magical songs. Dylan also performs. That's all I'll say out of respect for my marriage.
Stevie Ray Vaughan | In the Beginning
Epic (1992)
This is a live-radio recording of an early Stevie Ray Vaughan show (before he even used his middle name Ray professionally). It's an incendiary performance. The voice is there. The guitar playing is there. But he doesn't quite have his full swagger yet. There's something slightly reserved about the performance, which is ultimately what I love about it. It's the chance to hear a great artist moments before he becomes fully formed.