9 Important Album Anniversaries I Missed That Deserve a Celebration
You can't get to everything. Today, I try.
When you write a newsletter around music recommendations, paralysis of choice rears its ugly head more often than readers might think.
This phenomenon is particularly true of album anniversaries. I’m often faced with the unenviable decision of choosing only one or two records to discuss in-depth in a given month instead of five or six. Once those decisions are made in the planning phase, I feel guilty about the great art I’ve chosen to ignore (publicly, at least).
This post is the first of several that aim to remedy this. I’m going to run through 11 milestone album anniversaries that I haven’t covered yet in 2024. Hopefully, in the shorter space allotted to each, I’ll help turn some new listeners on to these classics.
Before the line break, here is a brief reminder to subscribe and reshare (linking to this post in a Substack Note does wonders for exposure on the platform).
Let’s begin:
1. “Autobahn” by Kraftwerk (1974)
The initial foundation upon which the majority of electronic, synth-pop, and ambient music was built, Autobahn still has the capacity to excite and enthrall. Some textural components may sound quaint to modern ears, but to stop oneself there is to miss the point. It’s not about comparing it to modern ambient or electronic productions but connecting the historical dots and hearing how specific compositional techniques were conceived.
The star of the show remains the eponymous opener, which stretches out in front of you for almost as long as a real autobahn. About a third of the way through its runtime, its disparate elements mesh together to accomplish what ambient electronica strives to do to your brain—envelope it in an impenetrable atmosphere.
2. “On the Beach” by Neil Young (1974)
After covering Rust Never Sleeps in a previous post, it’s clear that Neil Young’s music deserves more shine, particularly from his 11-year run that immediately preceded it. An LP that appears closer to the end of that timeline is On the Beach, a marvelously candid and petty record that’s, despite its sonic sparseness, among the most arresting collection of tracks in his catalog.
Recorded right after the harrowing Tonight’s the Night, Young softens his approach just enough to make the songs more accessible to a broader audience. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get his licks in where he can, including taking open shots at Lynyrd Skynyrd (“Walk On”), his critics (“Ambulance Blues”), and Hollywood’s elite who had invaded Laurel Canyon. It’s, as the Gen Zers would say, #savage.
3. “Unknown Pleasures” by Joy Division (1979)
Unknown Pleasures is an excellent example of how intimidation sometimes dictates what I choose not to cover in this newsletter. How could I encapsulate its greatness or add anything to the millions of words written until now extolling its virtues? But, hey, I managed with Purple Rain, so let’s take a few seconds to appreciate this monster of an LP.
Beneath the despair that flows like black-colored rapids under every track, there’s incredible craftsmanship on display here. Peter Hook’s bass cuts through the synth-laden gloom with unapologetic authority, while the late Ian Curtis’ emotionally charged vocals hold nothing back. Stephen Morris’s intense drum sound has also influenced an untold number of records in the years since. Tie it all together with Martin Hannett’s intricate, patient production, and you have a stone-cold classic.
4. “Footloose (Original Soundtrack)” by Various Artists (1984)
As tacky as some of its production may sound now, Footloose is still one of the most successful film soundtracks of all time. It produced six Top 40 hits on the Billboard Hot 100, including two that hit No. 1—Kenny Loggins’ anthemic title track and Deniece Williams’ “Let’s Hear it For the Boy.” It topped the Billboard album chart for over two months and, since its initial release, has sold over 9 million copies in the US alone.
Those two smash hits are far from the only highlights here, too. The Mike Reno and Ann Wilson power ballad, “Almost Paradise,” still soars, while Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out for a Hero” is an underrated entry in the 80s synth-pop canon. Even a few deeper cuts, like Shalamar’s “Dancing in the Sheets,” hold up better than most may think.
One of the first blockbuster movie musicals of its era, Footloose remains hard to beat in the “fun listen” category.
5. “Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik” by Outkast (1994)
One of the best hip-hop debuts of the last half-century, courtesy of Andre 3000 and Big Boi, turned 30 this year. What’s incredible to me is how young they were (both in their late teens) and how fully-formed their sound was overall.
Here’s what I wrote about the record in my underrated 90s hip-hop post:
If there’s a word that defines Southernplayalistic, it’s probably “mellow.” From the swirling title track to the irresistable melody on “Crumblin’ Erb,” the vibes are immaculate throughout. Even the more uptempo, party-oriented cuts like “Player’s Ball” never lose the relaxed, carefree energy that’s become a hallmark of Outkast’s hip-hop persona. Though often overshadowed by the group’s commercial smashes like Stankonia and The Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, the duo’s freshman offering deserves to be ranked among their best releases.
6. “Grace” by Jeff Buckley (1994)
What more is there to say about Jeff Buckley and Grace other than, “What could’ve been?”
By all accounts, Buckley was operatic on another creative plane that didn’t exactly ingratiate himself with those he worked with. He was labeled as moody and a bit of a diva. Initially, Grace was even panned by some critics who weren’t as receptive to its emotional highs and lows. But, following his passing and multiple reissues in the years since, reappraisals have anointed this as, at the very least, an unsung 90s gem.
One of the ways you know you’re in the presence of a true original is the lack of musical comps. I mention them a lot in this newsletter—how a song, artist, or affectation carries notes of another, perhaps more distinctive work. Try as I might, I can’t do so clearly with Buckley’s work. It blends blues, folk, and alternative rock with such conviction and charisma that I can’t help but return to the initial question.
Had he gifted us with another fully realized record, what could’ve been …
7. “Enema of the State” by blink-182 (1999)
When I was a kid, I didn’t think Travis Barker was human. The speed with which he moved his arms and legs around the kit, all while hitting the cymbals and toms so loud, was beyond my comprehension. Could an adult male from the same species as me actually do that? The funny thing is, having dabbled on the drums since my mid-20s, I saw blink-182 live in 2023 and found myself asking the same question: How does he do it?
The allure of his instrument mastery is one of the main draws of an album like Enema of the State, arguably the band’s finest hour creatively and certainly at or near their commercial peak. The lyrics may be stupid, and the antics may be sophomoric, but it’s all for laughs. It’s funny in the same way Beavis and Butthead are funny. Let’s not overthink it.
Why else would they jog around like that?
8. “Ágætis byrjun” by Sigur Rós (1999)
I first heard Sigur Rós on the soundtrack of a Canadian indie film titled Cafe de Flore. If you can track it down, it’s worth the watch, particularly for the sequence underpinned by the epic “Svefn-g-Englar.” The serene nature of the keyboard, the enormity of the fuzzed-out guitars, and the patient march of the drums were unlike I’d ever heard before. I knew I needed to track their work down.
Once I did, I realized how drastic a departure this sophomore record was from Von, their 1997 debut. The soundscapes became more expansive, and the orchestration evolved to include classical elements, such as a string octet. While initially considered an under-the-radar release, this album has grown into something of a cult classic among ambient music enthusiasts.
If you know, you know.
9. “Hot Fuss” by the Killers (2004)
If you love the Killers’ music as much as I do, you owe a debt of gratitude to the British.
Before hitting it big with “Mr. Brightside,” which should be considered England’s national anthem at this point, they were just a band from Nevada that couldn’t get record deals. But, thankfully, an A&R rep flew their demo back to London, a move that eventually got them signed to Lizard King. The rest, as they say, is record-setting history.
Beyond “Brightside,” there are a handful of standout rock tunes on this LP. The killer (no pun intended) opener “Jenny Was a Friend of Mine,” the snarling “Smile Like You Mean It,” and the dancefloor filler “Somebody Told Me”—all excellent to this day. There’s also the best track they’ve ever recorded, “All These Things That I’ve Done,” which is nothing short of a religious experience live.
Let’s be honest—you’re already humming that refrain, right?
Which of these classic albums is in your rotation regularly? Sound off in the comments!
I loved your post on album anniversaries! Your selection is so diverse, and your insights are as on-point as ever. Thanks to you, "Autobahn" and "Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik" are now back on my playlist.
I've been lucky to see The Killers live, and you're exactly right, listening to 'All These Things That I've Done' was like a religious experience. I think it clocked in at around 15mins at the gig too!