Those 1989 Albums

Two Heartbreakers, one ELO, Two Beatles. Yes. Yes, indeed.

Last night, I offered up a bunch of albums to talk about. Of course, there are so many more but it became random after awhile so I just stopped.

In that post, I alluded to the albums of 1989 and their impact on me.

As we've said many times, music is such a personal thing. It's like opening a wound. It's very vulnerable and I know I haven't always been the most gracious when it comes to others showing me the same vulnerability.

Opinions are, well, I screw that one up. Let's leave it at that.

So, I feel my own sense of vulnerability when I offer music up. I don't have all of the answers and I don't think my answers are correct. I recognize talent. Those who have gotten wherever (say, hmm...Maroon 5?) have gotten there somehow.

That brings us to 1989. It was a time of profound loneliness, frustration, and confusion. (No, I promise I'm not talking about 2020). While I was working and still trying to have a life, I was still fatherless at the age of 20. I worked full-time for Kraft General Foods and had just gotten a promotion (I found out the day I returned following my dad's funeral).

I was also going to college at night, though I had a light schedule that semester. Still, when the teacher (I'll be damned if I'm going to call him a professor) failed me -- in the semester in which I lost my father -- I decided I was done with college.

Music, as always, played a huge part of my life. While I was new to finally having a CD player (a Fisher component piece that I bought at a Macy's furniture outlet near Hartsdale, NY) there was no CD player in my car, so cassettes ruled. There was always a large cassette case in my back seat.

As I said, it was a confusing time and lonely in its own ways. I wasn't a party person at all and, though I turned 21 that November, I wasn't popping open any Genesee Cream Ale to celebrate.

I was, not shockingly, lame.

I was, let's say, coerced into giving school another try that fall. I decided to go to Connecticut School of Broadcasting (I don't think everyone was in favor of this call). To that end I worked a full day in White Plains, drove to Stratford, and drove home. On the weekends, I drove back to Stratford for studio time to keep practicing (mostly reading commercial copy and being a disc jockey while messing around with sports items).

These were probably the loneliest times. It's hard to explain. Sure, I had a lot going on. Friends, family, etc. But it was still just...man, I can't quite put it into words. I think I struggle even more looking back now, especially when that allows me to think how different it could all be.

But, there was music. Lots of it. When I wasn't listening to WFAN (which I listened to a lot), I was playing a few albums constantly.

Storm Front, Billy Joel. Released in Oct, 1989, it first hit us with "We Didn't Start the Fire," which worked for me as a history guy (it doesn't quite work for me now). I've had many a conversation with Billy Joel fans about this album. "That's Not Her Style" was a rocker that I liked (I know someone who detests this song). Remove the awfulness that is Christy Brinkley in it. The lyrics aren't the best. I get it. But, it was a rocker and a good way to wake my ass up on a Saturday morning of knowing I'd be doing close to three hours of driving. And "Shameless" (go away, Garth Brooks). Those are lyrics that just...yeah. This was also the album that finally got me to see Joel in person. So while it's nowhere near my favorite album of his (The Stranger, The Nylon Curtain, Glass Houses, 52nd Street, Turnstiles, and Piano Man are all better) the album was a good escape.

Full Moon Fever, Tom Petty. Full disclosure: I was never the biggest Tom Petty fan, but this album hit it just right. So, wait. You're going to tell me the lead single ("I Won't Back Down") has Jeff Lynne as producer, bass player, and background vocals AND George Harrison on acoustic guitar and backing vocals AND the video features Lynne, Petty, the great Mike Campbell, Harrison, AND RINGO STARR? What was there for me to not love? Obviously "Free Fallin" became an anthem itself that literally everyone loves (when you go a bit without hearing it). There were plenty of other album tracks to keep the car moving as well. Plus, Petty had a sardonic sense of humor, and I needed that.

Brave and Crazy, Melissa Etheridge. She had already blown me away with her self-titled first album in 1988. "Bring Me Some Water" was enough to show just how incredible that album was. In Sept, 1989, ME returned with her second effort and she still felt like a nice little secret for those of us who were fans. Sure, it got some airplay but she wasn't "popular" just...yet. In her music was darkness. Tenderness. Rawness. Longing. Solitude. This was probably the most moody and deep of these important albums in my life. While Etheridge hit higher heights on the charts and in pop culture, she would never musically climb higher than this with me, and that's no diss. This was so strong.

These three albums were musically powerful and popular in their own ways and mostly mainstream. At the same time, I still had that jazz gene bubbling around in me, and it was probably never more important for me than it was then, as it was a connection to my later father. But, there was also something called soft jazz or lite jazz that was its own form of hell (sadly, for him, think Kenny G). Fair or unfair, it was reality. With that said...

London Warsaw New York, Basia. While this one wasn't released in 1989 (it hit in Feb, 1990) it's still part of those trips to Stratford to go to CSB. Basia, a Polish-born singer who had minor chart success in 1987 with an album called Time and Tide, was a clear disciple of the great Astrud Gilberto ("The Girl From Ipanema," if you don't know). Some of the tracks off Time and Tide would be on TV (it was the VH1 era of my life) and I recall seeing my father leave for work in the morning during this stretch (catching on now?). Her music was more on the (damn you, adult contemporary) mellow end of the spectrum and certainly made for background on those drives. There were hints of bossa nova and other influences of another era. The lead single "Cruising for Bruising" spoke of her breakup with her musical partner, Danny White. The lyrics? Not mean, like Fleetwood Mac. Just real and sad. But the entire album wasn't like that. A very passable version of "Until You Come Back to Me" (co-written by Stevie Wonder, perfected by Aretha Franklin) appears towards the end.

I'll readily accept any mocking, but my taste is my taste, and while I haven't played any of them all the way through in some time, I still feel a great deal of affection for them. I started playing Brave and Crazy one day since the pandemic began and got interrupted. So it goes.

Also a part of the 1989 mix were albums by Don Henley (another important album at that time for me), Bonnie Raitt, Eric Clapton, and many others (Queen, Phil Collins, and Paul McCartney as well). But these four still resonate for those drives to CSB. In fact, when I produced my first audition tape for radio, I used "The Heart of the Matter" by Don Henley, and I practiced talking up records to a copy of "Another Day in Paradise" by Phil Collins. Both had great opening instrumental intros to learn how to "hit the post" of a vocal or beat in the DJ world.

These albums (and others) helped those spells of emotions that powered me through 1989 and into 1990. Those drives to Stratford came to an end when I got my first radio job, at Majic 105, in Sep, 1990.

This post, while wistful I suppose, is more so a glance back with gratitude for the things that helped me survive and mold me. I've carried those thoughts and lessons for the past 31 years.