29. The Doors
Years active: 1960s-70s
Genre: Psychedelic, Blues-rock
Five to start you off: “The Crystal Ship”, “Love Me Two Times”, “Five to One”, “Roadhouse Blues”, “Peace Frog”
Comment: The Doors sometimes go a little bit missing in accounts of the late 60s, kind of out on their own a little bit. I also happen to think they have one of rock’s curiously unheralded great runs: by my reckoning, six very good to classic albums in a row: The Doors (1967), Strange Days (1967), Waiting for the Sun (1968), The Soft Parade (1969), Morrison Hotel (1970), and L.A. Woman (1971). Of course, as you’ve seen from the list so far, I’m mad for the Vox Continental and Hammond and Ray Manzarek consistently drenched the band’s sound in electric organ, so maybe I was always bound to love them. Jim Morrison is one of the great front men with an irresistible baritone which could range from poetic and mystical to boozy and sleazy. Also, have to throw this out here: no bassist! The Doors had no bassist, a fact that I found mindblowing when I found out. The Doors represent a hedonistic, nihilistic embrace of the darkness. They are a step on from counter-culture, the revolution hasn’t worked: Morrison’s instincts are always towards the sinister, the knowingly wrong, giving in to temptation, the darkest depths … murder, incest, addiction. As a rule, they started off trippy and progressively got bluesier as Morrison’s voice got coarser. For some reason, the album I find myself coming back to more than the others is Morrison Hotel which has no weak tracks, rocks hard, and for my money Morrison in his most fully realised persona as a raw and edgy blues-rock singer and Robby Krieger turns in probably his best guitar work especially on “Roadhouse Blues” and “Peace Frog”. If you’ve never explored The Doors properly because of some misconception that they are overrated or even that they are a “dad band” (they really aren’t!), I strongly recommend overcoming it because you’re missing out on one of the all-time great bands bar none.
28. Scott Walker
Years active: 1960s-present
Genre: Baroque Pop, Experimental
Five to start you off: “Matilde”, “Jackie”, “30 Century Man”, “If You Go Away”, “Duchess”
Comment: As a Bowie aficionado, it was only a matter of time before I checked out Scott Walker. His solo career has two distinct phases (after his time as one of The Walker Brothers, huge stars in the 60s), the first is the string of baroque albums he made in the 60s. It’s easy to spot these because they were numbered: Scott (1967), Scott 2 (1968), Scott 3 (1969), and Scott 4 (1969). All of them are essential, and all of them are of a piece – grandiose and dramatic Jacques Brel covers strewn through with a sense of artiness and darkness – such that I am sometimes not sure which song is on which album. This reviewer on RYM put it very well:
Perhaps my favourite aspect of Scott Walker’s 60s output is its deceptive nature. On the surface, his first solo outing is serene and harmless, just another pop record with lush orchestral arrangements and songs of wasteful youth. But once you draw closer, let it pull you under, everything takes on an ugly and twisted hue. Walker’s voice is loaded with cynicism and regret beyond his years, lending even the most anodyne lines an air of wry detachment. The arrangements reveal themselves as grotesquely opulent exercises in decadence, a thin veneer of beauty barely holding back the torrent of dissonance that lurks in the background, barely audible.
Quite. Also, “30 Century Man” is one of the all-time sub-two-minute songs. I went through a phase of listening to it about twenty times a day. “Matilde” is one of the greatest covers of all time – actually so are “Jackie” and “If You Go Away”. “Duchess” is probably his best self-penned song of the early period. Not long after this he hit a nadir with a string of poor albums in the early 70s, before disappearing for a decade. When he came back Climate of Hunter (1984) was relentless in its darkness, but had enough sheen and 80s production to at least be accessible to the uninitiated casual listener. Then he disappeared for another decade. When he came back, pretty much nothing could prepare anyone for the unremitting bleak hell that is Tilt (1995), still the only album to properly give me nightmares. Atonal, dissonant, cold, never once letting you relax into his wasteland soundscape, Tilt is one of those albums you have to experience at least once. A work of dark and twisted genius. The Drift (2006) is in a similar vein, “Clara” famously features the sound of meat being punched, and it is an unsettling and traumatizing piece of work. For some reason, The Drift puts me more in the mind of totalitarian atrocity than does Tilt, which feels more like suffering and despair. I would say that Bisch Bosch (2012) is a step too far, but then who else in the world is making stuff that sounds like it?
27. Iggy Pop (and The Stooges)
Years active: 1960s-present
Genre: Garage Rock, Hard Rock, Post-Punk, Art Rock
Five to start you off: “Penetration”, “Funtime”, “Dum Dum Boys”, “Some Weird Sin”, “The Passenger”, “I’m Bored”
Comment: As a Bowie aficionado, it was only a matter of time before I checked out Iggy Pop … If you count his output with The Stooges, Iggy Pop had practically a full decade of top quality albums: The Stooges (1967), Fun House (1970), Raw Power (1973), The Idiot (1977), Lust for Life (1977), Kill City (1977), New Values (1979). That’s seven excellent albums in a row. Spinning my wheels desperately thinking of something original to say of Iggy Pop’s greatness, I will offer this critical morsel: he might be the best ever at the stunning opening gambit to an album. Think of how he swaggers onto Raw Power’s “Search and Destroy”: “I’m a street walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm / I’m a runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb / I am a world’s forgotten boy” BAM. How about this on Lust for Life: “Here comes Johnny Yen again / With the liquor and drugs / And a flesh machine / He’s gonna do another strip tease”. BAM. Iggy kinda went off the boil after the 70s, but American Caesar (1993) is worth checking out, and he surprised everyone THIS year with one of his best and most enjoyable albums ever Post Pop Depression (2016), which is notable for how much he sounds like Jim Morrison on “Break Into Your Heart”, and how much like Bowie on “Gardenia”. Pretty kick ass at 69.
26. The White Stripes / Jack White
Years active: 90s-present
Genre: Blues Rock, Garage Rock
Five to start you off: “Astro”, “Hello Operator”, “The Denial Twist”, “Little Cream Soda”, “You Don’t Know What Love Is (You Just Do As Your Told)”
Comment: I can hear the howls of “sacrilege!” from here as legions of fans of Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Iggy Pop, Velvet Underground, etc. etc. wonder what the hell I’m doing ranking a two-bit garage outfit like The White Stripes above them. And I can sense the anger of actual White Stripes fans screaming at their screens that there’s a real difference between Jack and Meg together and Jack solo. Well, what can I say, sometimes you have to piss people off. If you’ve been reading this list closely, you may have already spotted two tendencies of mine: first, I love the delta blues, second, I love raw, hard, sleazy and thumping garage rock a la The Troggs at their best. In The White Stripes, those twin loves find their synthesis. From the get-go Jack White shows off his blues chops on The White Stripes (1999), where we get a string of hard-hitting deconstructionist reworks of classic delta blues numbers: Robert Johnson’s “Stop Breaking Down”, Son House’s “John the Revelator” (retitled as “Cannon”), and the standard “St. James Infirmary Blues”. It’s vital, I think, to understand The White Stripes as a blues act, as well as a rock act. On the self-penned numbers like “Astro”, they kick all kinds of ass. Just one electric guitar and one mental drummer (and let me tell you White Stripes wouldn’t be as good if Meg was a better or more interesting drummer, it’s all about that mechanical thud), what more do you want? On De Stijl (2000), more of the same: Son House gets another update on “Death Letter”, and Blind Willie McTell gets an airing on “Your Southern Can Is Mine”. And more great big stompiness on such awesomeness as “Hello Operator” and “Why Can’t You Be Nicer To Me” (which allows an electric violin into the mix). On White Blood Cells (2001), we start to get the more melodic side of White as on the opener “Dead Leaves & The Dirty Ground” and the piano-driven “This Protector”, but of course it still rocks out when it wants to (“Fell in Love with a Girl”, “I Think I Smell a Rat”). Elephant (2003) of course has “Seven Nation Army”, and another thumper “The Hardest Button to Button”. That album was the big deal at the time, but it’s Get Behind Me Satan (2005) that I’ve found myself returning to much more often over the years. Jack seemed to be inspired around that time, the songs have a bit more pop catchiness: “The Denial Twist” and “Take, Take, Take” are both great, and “Passive Manipulation” is a great little Meg-on-vocals ditty. Icky Thump (2007) has its moments too, such as “You Don’t Know What Love Is (You Just Do As Your Told”, or the old-school romper “Little Cream Soda”. But, here’s the thing, I really like Jack White’s solo albums too: Blunderbuss (2012) and Lazeretto (2014) don’t really skip a beat from The Stripes at their best, the latter was easily my second favourite album of 2014 (behind Run the Jewels 2).
Next time: Who will be in the top 25? Only one way to find out.
