15 Album Meme, pt. 2

Here's the deal from earlier today:

Think of 15 albums that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life. Dig into your soul. Music that brought you to life when you heard it. Then when you finish, tag 15 others, including me. Make sure you copy and paste this part so they know the drill.

Again, I'm not tagging anyone. Do it if you wanna, but I'd love to see your choices, should you choose to accept this assignment. Link me to your post in comments here, won'tcha?

So, whilst I was in my computer class being all bored'n'shit, I posted five of the fifteen albums. Here's what I came up with then. And here's the rest of of the frakkin' list.

1. Rio by Duran Duran. Even though I was introduced to Duran Duran by the Mother Unit a year or so earlier, when she shared their song "Planet Earth" with me during a visit from the Big Apple. Sony Walkmans were all the rage at the time and I remember hearing that song on the Unit's Walkman and falling in love with them right then and there. But it was Rio that really struck a chord in me, mainly because of the song "The Chauffeur." I got Rio as a Christmas present after having been thrilled that Duran Duran were getting wide airplay in America with "Hungry Like the Wolf." All of the songs on the album paled in comparison to "The Chauffeur," which I first heard while exploring another Christmas present, a Dungeons and Dragons game. The song, with its very fantasy-like Medieval English woodwinds riff, just awakened something in me. It was at this time that I began writing fantasy and began playing around with the idea of the Tarmian people.
2. Time by Electric Light Orchestra. It's because of Time that I don't ever write anything without music being the driving force behind my creative process. It was the first concept album I ever truly listened to and I was compelled to write my own interpretation of Jeff Lynne's sci-fi vision. This was definitely a departure for me, who had until that time only written animal stories. Now, all of a sudden, I was writing science fiction featuring humans, and robots, and aliens oh my! The rest, as they say, is history.
3. Rubber Soul by the Beatles. This is one of my earliest musical experiences, thanks to the Mother and Father Units. They both dearly loved the Beatles and bought this record when it came out. I still have their record, even though the Father Unit kind of scratched it beyond playability upon the of their marriage. The Beatles and this album in particular helped to create my taste in music. It features my favourite Beatles songs, "Norwegian Wood," which also began my lifelong love affair with the Indian sitar.
4. Eye in the Sky by Alan Parsons Project. The title track, along with it's intro "Sirius," was so inspiring on a cellular level, I still get chicken pimples when I hear it and the song and album have been around for *gasp* 27 years! There are so many truly beautiful songs on this album, most notably "Old and Wise," I can't recommend it more enthusiastically than I already do when given the opportunity. Writers in particular I encourage to give the album a listen. It's the perfect concept album, standing alone on its own plot line merits; however, it can be interpreted on so many levels, it's also perfect for a writer suffering from any sort of block. I can almost guarantee that your writers block will perish in the album's wake I can't sing its praises more. Period.
5. The Nightmare before Christmas soundtrack by Danny Elfman. Even though I'd heard tons of Oingo Boingo and adored Danny Elfman's film scores (O EM GEE BATMAN!), none of it truly came together until I heard Jack Skellington sing. From that moment on, I was a helpless Elfmeister acolyte, learning and singing such delicious songs like "No One Lives Forever" with a relish to rival that of his greatest fan, the one and only booraven22. Seriously, though, if nothing else would prove it to a person that Danny Elfman is pure fucking genius, the one song "Jack's Lament" should do it in spades. And if that doesn't do it, just write yourself off as a hopeless headcase and go jump off a bridge.
6. Purple Rain by Prince and the Revolution.  Nothing changes your life more than going to see the movie Purple Rain with none other than your grandmother, who shared your insane infatuation with Prince Rogers Nelson, only to see your granny's bun get blown loose by the sheer volume and intensity of the music that fueled said movie.  And the title track, to this day, pretty much defines my senior year in high school and makes me cry like big old baby.  "I never wanted 2 be your weekend lover, I only wanted 2 be some kind of friend.  Baby, I could never steal u from another.  It's such a shame our friendship had 2 end."  ::weeps::
7. Watermark by Enya.  The purchase of this album coincides with the purchase of my first deck of tarot cards.  My occult and Pagan education will forever be connected to Enya's ethereal Elven music.  Even if I cannot capture that magick by any other method, I can listen to Watermark or most any other of Enya's masterpieces, and find that magick sitting right there all around me and within me, looking at me as though saying, "what took you so long?"
8. Star Wars and Other Galactic Funk by Meco Monardo.  It was Meco's disco version of the Star Wars theme song that made me want to see the movie and got me interested in film music.  Need I say anything more?  I mean, really?
9. Upstairs at Eric's by Yazoo.  I heard a song from this album, "Situation," in a local record store.  Pulling completely out of character at this time in my life, I trudged up to the front counter and asked what this song was and if I could buy the album.  I left the store a very happy and very broke 14-year-old.  As I'd always loved Vince Clarke in Depeche Mode, I was more than a little thrilled to hear what he'd been getting up to since his departure from the band.  And Alison 'Alf' Moyet's voice encouraged me to work on my own so I could at least try to sing along.  It's her vocal acrobatics that helped me develop my own singing voice, which was considerably weaker then than it is now.  I don't think I'd be able to sing songs like "The Circle is Cast" a capella if it weren't for my trying to emulate Alf on this album.  Just sayin'.
10. Sacred City by Shriekback.  When I'd finally resigned myself to never hearing anymore new Shriek music, let alone ever finding out what the elusive Illuminati mentioned in the liner notes of The Dancing Years were all about, this album mysteriously appears in a gigantic box of returned CDs in our returns department at BMG.  My friend Russell brought it to my attention because I'd asked him to let me know if he found any old Shriek albums floating around in Returns.  Well, it turned out that this album wasn't old at all, but a new release on a new record label (Dave Allen's World Domination).  Upon listening to it, I was educated in the phenomenon of Psycho Drifting, as well as the concept of modern urban deities, only later to be touched upon in Llewellyn's woefully tardy tutorial on Urban Paganism.  Not only did it rekindle my then fading interest in Shriekback, it also helped breathe life into my languishing novel The Chalice aaaand it taught me a valuable lesson about Shriekback:  never underestimate a band that enjoys redefining itself every few years just for shits and giggles and never ever ever underestimate or deign to dismiss the creative superpowers of Barry Andrews.  Uh...lesson learrrrneddd.

The end.  As the old Gypsy woman in Transylvania 6-5000 says:  "I sleep now."

Frak on a Stick....

I don't even know what to think of the series finale, but I'm so glad to see Baltar and Six back together and finally acknowledging their inner angels. And Baltar's speech was breathtaking, and I loved how he alluded to the Triskele mystery of Birth, Death, and Rebirth. It only has 30 minutes to go. I'm just wondering when I'm gonna give in and start squalling like a miserable child.

WARNING: SOME COMMENTS MAY INCLUDE SPOILERS, SO DON'T READ 'EM IF YOU'RE THE KIND THAT RESENTS STUFF LIKE THAT.