THE PROSE RECITAL call to order
Ladies and gentlemen, our show will begin in just a few moments.
And by “a few moments,” I mean hours, because that’s how time works in my writing universe. But “a few moments” sounded classier, especially since I’ve shaped this whole thing into a Prose Recital. No singing, no back‑and‑forth, just my words on a page, here to cure your insomnia. You’re welcome in advance.
This all started when a couple of “Best of…” and “Greatest of…” lists ambushed my social media feed. The one that hit me square in the chest was Best Albums From Each Year of the 1970s.
Nice idea. But music, as we all instinctively know is fucking subjective.
What you think is the greatest album ever might not even crack my top fifty, and vice versa. And time changes everything. What I thought was untouchable in 1974 (hello, KISS) has shifted more times than I can count.
But one thing hasn’t changed; the moment I hear that album title, I’m transported back in time like Doc Brown wired a Flux Capacitor to my turntable.
The only real authority on what makes a song, album, or band “great”… is you.
Critics, historians, self‑anointed experts with walls full of framed degrees; how the hell would they know what hits you in your nether regions? If something sells a billion copies, critics dismiss it because “sales don’t equal greatness.” Convenient, isn’t it?
From the printing press to the algorithm, “experts” have always chased traffic. If their article hits a million views, they’re geniuses. But let “Look What the Cat Dragged In” go platinum, and suddenly numbers don’t matter.
I have zero illusions about being an authority on greatness. I don’t know what you “need” in your collection. What I do know is me. I’m my own biggest critic and my own biggest fan. I know what the hell Sweet Lou likes.
So, like all great ideas, I bastardized theirs.
I went decade by decade, year by year, and picked the album that left a permanent mark on me. Not the “best,” not the “most important,” not even necessarily from that exact year. Just the one that hit a nerve and stayed there. I’ve lived enough years to earn that right and I should know what the hell I’m talking about.
Some of you know this, some don’t; my musical journey started at 14-months old, with Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are.” Though for decades I thought it was “It’s Not for Me to Say.” I may finally tell the whole story at the end of this series. It was the first time I understood unconditional love and later, it became something even deeper. I stopped telling the story because it was too bittersweet, too emotional, and because it always made the listener emotional too.
I skipped the 1960s for a reason. By the end of that decade I had plenty of albums and memories, but those were my developmental years. That music wasn’t mine yet, it was simply preparing me for the journey. In those early years, everything I loved came from my family, not from what was “cool,” not from magazines I bought or “borrowed” as a teenager.
By age seven, my arsenal already included 1920’s jazz, big band, boogie‑woogie, folk, blues, psychedelic rock, and early rock and roll.
To both sides of my bloodline, thank you. You gave me a gift; the ability to remember everything good, bad, and in‑between through music. I love you all for it.
So here it is…the soundtrack of my life from 1970 to 2025. The ‘MOST MEMORABLE ALBUMS’.
I’d love to hear the albums that take you back too. The ones that hit you so hard you can feel the year again just by closing your eyes. So please, leave a comment on each one of these writings if you wish.
Time to fire up the DeLorean or the Pioneer in my case. Let’s return to a time when life was a mess of emotions, good times, bad times, trying times, and the best of times. The uppers, the downers, and the all arounders that life throws at you.
It’s time to look back, forget about looking cool, and just be real.
Enjoy the show. The lights will dim in just a few moments while the band prepares to play.
Tonight's the night we'll make history
As sure as dogs can fly
And I'll take any risk to tie back the hands of time
And stay with you here tonight
So take your seats and don't be late
We need your spirits high
To turn on these theatre lights
And brighten the darkest skies
Here at the Paradise
