This week’s question comes to us from YuYu Schatz:

I recently got my first record player. What records should I get?

Congrats. I’m sorry.

I tried to talk everyone out of buying vinyl not too long ago. It’s expensive. It’s a pain in the ass if you move. It takes up way too much space in your home. It warps in the heat. You’ll forget you already have something and buy it multiple times. People write about it when they’re trying to avoid writing about all the terrible things happening in the world. Worst of all, it introduces terrible people into your life: audiophiles. We covered all of these things. And yet, you did it anyway.

Congrats. I’m sorry.

Well, as long as you already bought all the equipment, it’d be a sin to see it going unused, so let’s go buy some records.

Here’s the thing: I get really uncomfortable imposing my taste on others. Then again, I have most of the records I have because at some point someone handed me an unfamiliar record and said, “Here, listen to this.” And I’ve always appreciated that people were willing to share something they loved with others. Also, you asked. Still, the question remains, what records should you get. Which is not the same as deciding which records I would get, if say… I suddenly found myself living in a foreign land, far from the reaches of fascism, and starting over. What records would I immediately need to replace? What’s the starter set?

Here’s the ten records I would immediately need to replace if I suddenly found myself living safely outside America, in a small apartment containing a really nice turntable, but no records. I’ll try to keep it somewhat eclectic. And again, these are cornerstones. Load bearing records, not deep cuts. And I’m listing them in the order they came to me. Chaos.

Minutemen, Double Nickels on the Dime

If I had to pick one record from my punk youth, it’s definitely this one. 45 songs, all very short, all very simple, but it’s got range like you wouldn’t believe. Punk, funk, jazz, spoken word. Topics ranging from Vietnam to Reaganomics to racism to class struggle to philosophy. I remember first listening to this record and it made me compile a reading list, that’s how amazing it is. And mind you, this came out in 1984, before you could get online and search for “how is Reagan’s policy in Central America destroying the inner cities of the United States.” This is the kind of record that sends you to the bookstore. This record is the answer to “how did you first become radicalized” for a lot of people my age. Also, the songs slap. Should you buy it? Probably not. It’s a record of a time, and for those of us whose little brains were forming at that time—it’s a cornerstone. In your younger life there will be a Double Nickels, but it won’t be Double Nickels.

X, Los Angeles

Ok, I can’t pick just one record from my punk youth. So we might as well get this one out of our system. Where the Minutemen taught you to think, X taught you to fuck. (So did The Cramps, by the way. In fact, maybe that line works better with The Cramps. X was what you put on after sex. After it had all gone wrong. When you were throwing someone’s clothes out of a third story window, or pawning someone’s guitar to pay for an abortion, or walking out of a thrift store wearing two coats under the coat you walked in with, or it was three in the morning and you were out of cigarettes. This is a long parenthetical.) Also, I remember seeing X on stage for the first time and they were just different from other bands of the time. Instead of raging with teen boy testosterone and rage they… they were cool. Suave. Like they had their shit together. Which of course, they didn’t. They were a mess, like the rest of us. Should you buy this record? Mmmmm, I wanna say maybe. But probably not.

New Order, Movement

This is a mourning record. And as far as I’m concerned it’s still a Joy Division record. New Order wasn’t New Order quite yet. They’d get there. But Movement is a wake. They’re still grieving. They’re not quite ready to let go yet. This record is the process of doing that. This is the record I put on when shit goes south, not because I want to keep feeling that way, but because I want to feel it, and I want to respect that I’m feeling it, and maybe I’m willing to sit and stew in it for a little bit, but also know that this is a bridge to be crossed. A bridge between something that has ended, and something new that you can only get to if you’re willing to cross over. Should you buy this record? You should probably get Power, Corruption, and Lies instead.

Prince, 1999

If I suddenly found myself living safely outside America, in a small apartment containing a really nice turntable, but no records, I would very much hope that Erika was also there with me, which means we’d need some records that we both like, and this one would be on top of that list. This is my favorite Prince record, which is not the same as it being the best Prince record, because that’s not an argument I’m willing to have with anyone. I get to have my favorite, you get to have yours. The world continues revolving to a sexy funky beat. Also this list needed at least one Minneapolis record on it because fuck ICE. Should you buy this record? Absolutely.

IDLES, Joy as an Act of Resistance

This came out in 2018, but I don’t think I became aware of it until a full year after it was released. My daughter Chelsea, who’s amazing at recommending new music to me, did just that. I put it on and immediately loved it. Here’s what the IDLES are like. Imagine you’ve been living in the same place for twenty years. You genuinely like living there, and you especially enjoy the view out the window. You get to watch your neighbors walking by, you get to see the train zip through every fifteen minutes, you’ve got a good view of the dog park, and you’ve got afternoon sun. It’s everything you want. But then the landlord decides he’s gonna do a proper window washing, which hasn’t been done in twenty years. All of a sudden everything you already loved is sharper, clearer, and brighter. You can see farther, the sky is bluer, and you can see not just trees but the leaves on the trees. The IDLES are like that. Everything I’ve ever loved in a band, but that much more. My favorite record every year is whatever record The IDLES put out that year. Should you buy this record? Yes. Will you like it? Maybe not right away.

John Coltrane, A Love Supreme

Sixty-two years ago, on December 9, John Coltrane walked into Van Gelder Studio in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. New Jersey is cold in December, so John Coltrane was probably wearing a winter coat. Most likely a hat. Possibly gloves. He probably took a moment, once inside, to warm himself up. Maybe he had some coffee. Maybe he sat on a couch with his eyes closed thinking of what he’d be doing that day. Maybe he wished he’d worn a different shirt. Maybe he said hello to the other musicians as they walked in. Maybe they were already there when he walked in. I’m guessing at these things. There may or may not be a record of what John Coltrane did before recording A Love Supreme. I haven’t seen or read it. Most of the small moments in our lives just happen. We wash the dishes. We walk to the store. We ride the bus. We burp a baby. Those moments get lost in time. But what John Coltrane did next… in one fucking session… on December 9, 1964… we have a record of that. The exact moment when John Coltrane spoke to God? Yes, we have a record of that. Should you buy this record? You should start a church based on this record. You would not be the first.

Nina Simone Sings the Blues

In 1969 the Harlem Cultural Festival put on a show at Mount Morris Park (which is now Marcus Garvey Park). Actually, they put on six shows. Six Summer Sundays in a row. I know this because Questlove made a movie about it. Summer of Soul. It’s great and if you haven’t seen it you definitely should. (The soundtrack is great too.) Questlove weaves the movie together like one amazing afternoon concert. Mahalia Jackson. Stevie Wonder. Sly & The Family Stone. Mavis Staples. So many more. And you’ll be watching this and thinking holy shit this is amazing music and every band is bringing it and the audience shots let you know this is 100% true. You are watching a moment that can only happen in that moment and in that place. (How come my white ass never heard about it until Questlove made a movie about it?) (See also Tulsa.) Every band on that stage is phenomenal. And then Nina Simone comes on, and she shows you that as amazing as everything you’ve already seen was, there was another level. Nina Simone was another level. By the time she is finished with Backlash Blues you are ready to flip a cop car and light the White House on fire. Should you buy this record? You should buy any record with Nina Simone’s name on it.

Madonna, Like a Prayer

At some point in 1989 I walked into 3rd Street Jazz in Philly, bypassing the main jazz floor because I was not ready to appreciate it yet, and walked down into the basement, where they kept shit for the weird white kids. And it smelled funny. Not weed funny. The whole neighborhood smelled like weed. The smell was more like one of those new-fangled soft nuns who brought an acoustic guitar to class to do Cat Stevens sing-alongs. The funny smell was coming from the new Madonna album on the back wall. Like a Prayer was infused with patchouli when it was first released. It took over every record store it was in. If Like a Prayer was in stock, you knew it. You smelled it. It was a genius marketing campaign. It is also her best album. When I was coming up with marketing ideas for my new book, How to Die (and other stories), I briefly considered spraying it with patchouli as well, as an homage to Madonna. Erika told me she would rightfully murder me if I made the office smell like patchouli. Which is very fair. (By the way, sneaking a book promo into a review of something completely unrelated? Madonna taught me that.) Should you buy it? Absolutely. Although new copies don’t smell like patchouli anymore, which is a shame.

Bowie Bowie, Low

What do you do after defeating Nazis? (A question I am hoping will be relevant again soon.) During WW2 a larger portion of the world got hyperfocused on defeating Nazis, which was both hard and great. (Honestly, I bet it feels amazing. Let’s try it.) After doing so, which was exhausting, and took a lot of energy, the world decided that they were really happy the Nazi menace was over forever (In horror movies, this is the scene when you prematurely turn your back on the monster while the audience screams “Turn around! Turn around!”) and went back to everyone doing their own separate crimes. Except for Berlin, which sat there in pieces like a carved pie in a test kitchen that the world powers were using to speed run future wars on a city wide scale. Berlin was a mess, and into this mess walked David Bowie and his friend Iggy Pop, who very much wanted to do all the drugs and fuck everything that moved. Which they did. They also made Low. Should you buy it? Yes, and you should also buy Heroes, and you’ll probably like Heroes more.

The Clash, London Calling

I honestly tried to keep this record off this list. I mean, audience-wise, it’s kinda sorta covered by other albums already on the list. I kept thinking I should give this last slot to something more unexpected. Honestly, it’s a little cliché to add this album to a best albums list. But then you remember that clichés exist for a reason. There’s a reason expectations exist. There’s a reason bikes have brakes, and beds are soft, and tacos are great, and people love dogs, donuts are amazing, and The Card Cheat is the greatest song ever written. (Seriously, I have never heard The Card Cheat and not immediately lifted the needle, or hit rewind, and listened to it again. Doing it right now.) There’s an undeniability to this record. And because The Clash is The Clash, they followed up “the greatest record ever made” with Sandanista, which is somehow even better, and yet… people fight about this. Should you buy it? You should buy both.

You can, and should, argue about everything on this list. (Except Nina.) Music is incredibly subjective and loving music even more so. I could answer this same question tomorrow and list out ten completely different records, and that list would be as right—or as wrong—as this one. And while I consider myself to be a pretty eclectic listener, that just means I’ve spread out a bit beyond my comfort zone. I have no idea what music is directly behind me. I don’t know what I don’t know. And by rule, you should get no more than 5% of your musical recommendations from a 58-year-old white guy, even one who thinks he has good taste. Our own biases will always pull us back toward the mean.

Hopefully, you live somewhere where there’s a record store. Records should be bought in record stores. My final piece of advice is to always listen to what’s playing in the record store. And if you hear something that interests you ask the clerk what it is. If they roll their eyes at you, turn around and walk out. A place that doesn’t reward curiosity doesn’t deserve your dollar. But if their eyes light up? And they get excited because they’re about to share something they love with you? That’s when you know you’ve found a new home.

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