I'll Tell You In A Song

When I was a kid, I mean three decades ago, I started to dig my own music and purchased my own records that suited me; that suited my taste. I was huge on The Police. They rocked out, man. I bought Outlandos d'Amour and never looked back. "So Lonely" is still one of my favourite songs. When Zenyattà Mondatta was released it was easily my favourite album of all time, my favourite track: "Shadows in the Rain."
    Then in 1983 Synchronicity graced the airwaves and I wore out the grooves on the vinyl. That was the same year the last good Genesis album debuted. Genesis the self-titled album was the final one of their career as far as I was concerned. After I listened to it to death, I dove into the Genesis catalogue and took a shine to every release back to The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. For me, Genesis was all about the story. Their music told stories and I would get lost in them at night in my room through the headphones. The winter I turned 15 saw a moment that would expand my musical interests in dramatic fashion.
    One Friday evening way back then, after my older brother and his friend vacated the house (I remained to baby sit my younger brothers), I found some records they had left piled on the coffee table: Transformer by Lou Reed and Bowie's Scary Monsters were among them. I was immediately fascinated by the cover art and began to read the liner notes. I put them on the turntable—Monsters first, then Transformer—and listened to both sides of each record back to back. And that was it—goodnight ladies. It was a vicious blow to my ears. I wanted to scream like a baby "I'm so free!" I cried. Ashes to ashes, I started anew and still think back to that perfect day.
    "Satellite of Love," "New York Telephone Conversation," and the gradual build-up of "Andy's Chest." Transformer freed me from the pop music scene and had me take a walk on the wild side. "Up the Hill Backwards" and "It's No Game" from Scary Monsters opened strange doors that would never be closed again. My teenage wildlife years prompted by these two records led me to artists such as The Clash, Iggy Pop, Sex Pistols, Nick Cave, and even to Billy Bragg.
    The musical explosion that filled my teen-hood was followed by dead-end decade in the 90s. I almost completely stopped buying anything new. I feel as though I missed out on an entire era of sounds. If it wasn't on the radio, I didn't hear it. I can't let this continue. I must make up for lost time. I must think of the children.
    My daughter really fancies Avril Lavigne and could sing along to "I'm With You" since she was two. We've exposed her to a variety of music and she likes Bob Marley, The Clash and ABBA. It's actually quite rare for her to say that she doesn't like something, perhaps it's because she's young. I want to get her out and have her select something on her own.
    Ah, the memories. That's it, I swear to kingdom come—I'm taking the kids record shopping this weekend and you can't stop me! I'd love to see what they'd select at this stage in their lives, and I wouldn't mind picking up Drum's Not Dead by Liars if I can find it.

How about you, my droogies, what record(s) smacked you upside the head and changed your musical taste forever?