When I was a kid, I kept magazines by the family dinner table. I couldn’t eat unless I was reading something — anything! Usually I’d read about video games I was into, but sometimes I’d read about music. One of the features I always enjoyed in the music magazines was a featured artist’s list of their favorite albums of all time. Maybe it’s because I enjoy lists, I don’t know. Is that an autism thing? It might be an autism thing.
Anyways, I liked to imagine I was a famous musician being interviewed by one of those magazines, and I liked to consider what my answers would be. Now that I’m much older and have a platform of my own, I can just, you know, make my own list. I mean, what’s stopping me? So here’s my official top ten albums of all time. It’s not going to look like a lot of music critics’ top ten albums, as my taste in music is notoriously bad. I mean, Bon Jovi of all bands was my obsession for much of my life. But taste is subjective, am I right? And for better or worse, these are the albums that shaped me as a musician.
1. Bon Jovi – Slippery When Wet
I already mentioned Bon Jovi, so why don’t we start with there?
I remember the first time I heard this album. It was shortly after I discovered Bon Jovi due to the everywhere-ness of “It’s My Life” in 2000. I was very little at the time, but I loved that song. My much-older sister was a teenager in the ‘80s, so she remembered Bon Jovi’s initial run, and she still had her favorite cassette tape from back then. Starting up the tape and hearing synth intro of “Let It Rock” for the first time was nothing short of euphoric. I’d never heard anything like it. And then the bombastic vocals and heavy guitar came in, and I was absolutely in love.
Slippery When Wet also contained “Livin’ on a Prayer,” which was an immediate favorite of mine. I wasn’t sure what the hell a talk box was, but I knew I liked it. And how singable the chorus was! It would become my blueprint for creating earworms as a songwriter. There’s magic in that “woah-oh,” I’m telling you.
2. Def Leppard – Hysteria
After my mom confirmed her daughter’s bizarre interest in hair metal by giving her a Bon Jovi tape, she passed down even more of her and my sister’s music. Among the albums I received was Hysteria by Def Leppard. I was never as obsessed with Def Leppard as I was with Bon Jovi (and no one was as obsessed with Bon Jovi as me), but they still ranked high on my list of bands for that era. I loved the melodic nature of their music. You’d have this big, in-your-face chorus followed by some of the most captivating melodies. “Animal” is a great example of that.
My favorite from this album is “Run Riot,” which has the singability that I enjoy in a song. And the harmonies are glorious, owing in part to the amazing production of Robert John “Mutt” Lange, one of my favorite producers of all time. He knew just how to layer vocals and really create a lush soundscape with them. And speaking of Mr. Lange, he had a pretty big hand in the third album on my list as well.
3. Shania Twain – Come On Over
Before there was Bon Jovi, there was Shania.
Shania Twain was my idol. I loved her so much as a toddler. My own mother would get jealous because I’d draw pictures of Shania and not her (sorry Mom). I wanted a horse because I saw a picture of Shania with a horse. And of course, I listened to this album on repeat. I’m shocked I didn’t wear out the tape!
It would be easier to name the songs that weren’t bops on this album, because nearly all of them slap. (Wasn’t a huge fan of the title track, but everything else is a gem.) My burgeoning sense of humor really appreciated “That Don’t And Impress Me Much,” and I’d often quote it. “So what, you think you’re Elvis or something?” “Black Eyes, Blue Tears” was another favorite, albeit a pretty dark song for a three-year-old to truly grasp (it’s about domestic abuse). I loved the use of the talk box (again!) on it. And of course, Mutt’s penchant for strong harmonies is all over this album — he was the producer (and Shania’s husband), after all.
4. Taylor Swift – evermore
I’m skipping ahead quite a bit chronologically, but Taylor felt natural to bring up next. After all, Shania walked so Taylor could run. evermore came during the pandemic, when everyone was in a weird place already. Its sister album, folklore, was released less than five months prior, but aside from “this is me trying” (my neurodivergent millennial burnout anthem), none of the songs on that release resonated with me as much as the songs on evermore. Something about evermore just hit me hard.
Nothing comes close to the heartbreak of “tolerate it” or “happiness,” and the sweet tribute to Swift’s late grandmother, “marjorie,” is sure to leave you weeping, especially when the long-deceased woman’s ethereal voice echoes throughout the end of the song. One of my favorite bands, HAIM, features on “no body, no crime,” the catchiest murder ballad since The Chicks’ infamous “Goodbye Earl.” I’m also rather fond of “ivy,” with lyrics telling the story of a married woman’s tryst with another person who I am convinced is another woman. (She never said the song was autobiographical. I’m not a Gaylor, I swear.)
5. Jimmy Eat World – Futures
Confession: prior to about 2009, I didn’t listen to modern music. Anything made before 2000 didn’t really appeal to me, which meant I missed out on all the good emo bands. But a good friend’s then-husband was cleaning out his house and had a stack of CDs to give me, and Futures was among them. I remember the first time I listened to it en route to Chicago for a marching band field trip. I was absolutely blown away. The music, the lyrics, the entire vibe of the album — it completely flipped my perspective on 21st century music. Suddenly, I had a thirst for discovering other alternative and emo bands, which lead me to artists like Brand New, Weezer, and the neon pop-punk bands of the late 2000s.
The album itself is almost a concept album of sorts, dealing with addiction and longing. I couldn’t yet relate to the addiction part, although that would come later on in my personal story. But the longing was something I related to as an angsty teenager. I could listen to songs like “Kill” and “The World You Love” and cry about the fact that Dylan Martin from my church’s youth group would never love me back. I still love this album though, and Dylan and I are good friends now, so it all worked out in the end.
6. Weezer – Pinkerton
In making this list, I nearly forgot about Pinkerton. I’m sure Rivers Cuomo would rather me forget about it, as he was famously embarrassed of it. But it was a crucial part of my lovesick, sexually frustrated teen years. Looking back, the album is essentially Incel: The Musical, but I related to the lyrics quite a bit at the time, as someone who often found myself falling for guys who were less than interested in me. The songwriting on this album made me feel less alone.
“Why Bother” could have been the theme song to my failed teenage crushes. “Why bother, it’s gonna hurt me; it’s gonna kill when you desert me.” And the simple acoustic track “Butterfly” is possibly one of the most beautiful songs ever written. It evokes the image of catching a butterfly only to watch it wither in captivity. It’s a poignant metaphor for holding onto a love that is ultimately bad for the other person. Sometimes it’s better to let go, which was a painful lesson for me to learn. Rivers was there too, and that’s why I love Pinkerton. It’s so real and raw in the way it handles interpersonal relationships.
7. Heart – Bad Animals
This was another cassette tape given to me by my mom, who I credit for my taste in music. I remembered hearing Carrie Underwood cover “Alone” as part of an American Idol performance, and my dear mother was like “You’ve got to hear the original.” She pulled out this tape and my mind was instantaneously blown. I’d never heard a voice like Ann Wilson’s in my life. The sheer power behind her vocals gave me shivers. And to learn that the rhythm guitarist of the band was also a woman — that changed everything for me. It was the first time I’d seen another female guitarist. Suddenly, I had someone to look up to in music who looked like me! Representation frickin’ matters.
“Alone” is obviously the standout track from this album, the power ballad that made me fall in love with power ballads. I recorded the music video onto a tape, which my autistic ass watched every single morning before school. I wanted to be like the Ann and Nancy Wilson. They were so beautiful and talented and effortlessly cool, unlike me at the time. I’m not as famous as the Wilson sisters, and I probably never will be, but I’d like to think I made that little girl proud. I’m certain the sheer amount of comparisons I get to Ann Wilson whenever I sing Heart at karaoke would make younger me beyond happy, and that’s what matters.
8. John Frusciante – Shadows Collide With People
I’ll admit I was a little torn between including this album versus one of the Red Hot Chili Peppers albums that has influenced me. I discovered John Frusciante through his work with RHCP — I still remember hearing “Dosed” from their album By The Way for the first time and being mesmerized by the beautiful guitar work. It made me want to further explore Frusciante’s work, which lead me to this particular solo album, which I found in a record store or a Goodwill or somewhere. I don’t remember exactly how I happened upon it, but it was quite serendipitous that I did. It ended up becoming my favorite album of all time, carrying me through one of the hardest years of my life.
“Carvel” is an absolute gem of an opener and the reason I pestered my old band to buy me a Carvel cake while we were on tour. The “Carvel cake” in the song is meant to represent drugs, and as someone who very nearly averted an addiction to alcohol, I found myself relating to a lot of the lyrics. The instrumental tracks on the album are eerie and unsettling in the best way, and the ending track, “The Slaughter,” is one of my favorite songs of all time, closing the album on an optimistic note. “I know my pain’s a life away,” Frusciante croons, and I feel it. The worst is over.
9. Chappell Roan – The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess
This is easily the most recent album on this list, as Chappell Roan’s meteoric rise to fame was only within the past few months. But this album gives me so much hope for the future of pop music. I was in a musical rut for a long time, and I was starting to become worried that, like many thirtysomethings, my taste in music had solidified. I wasn’t sure if it was my getting older or new music getting more boring that made me give up on discovering new artists. After all, I remember going to karaoke at a bar full of Gen Z college students, and their song choices were decidedly overwhelmingly subdued. The younger generation grew up on the likes of Lorde and Billie Eilish, who, while very talented, mostly make bummers, not bangers. What we needed was someone to inject pop music with a bit of fun. What we needed was a femininomenon.
I have a hard time picking one or two favorites from this album chiefly because they’re all incredible. “Casual” is ethereal and heartbreaking, culminating in Chappell screaming at her would-be lover “You can go to hell!” in the final line. The sheer passion in that delivery gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it. And the horny lesbian anthem “Red Wine Supernova” is an obvious standout, with candid lyrics and witty references to “wands” and “rabbits” (if you know, you know). It’s such a bop, even Melissa Etheridge referenced it at one of her recent shows. Melissa walked so Chappell could run.
10. Jessa Joyce – The Oceanography EP
And finally…me! It’s probably an unusual choice to put your own album on a list of albums that changed your life, but I can’t think of an album that changed my life more. Sure, it didn’t take off or become as successful as I would have liked, but it proved to me that I could do it. I could record an album! My 2013 spring break was spent locked in my office at the newspaper I worked for at the time, utilizing the Mac desktops there for the GarageBand feature. I had a shitty Blue Snowball mic and a whole lot of caffeine and nicotine in my system (as I hadn’t yet been diagnosed with ADHD and that was my form of self-medication). It was released to Bandcamp with little fanfare, but I felt accomplished. Ten years later, using the knowledge I’d built up about music production and improved equipment (and Adderall), I re-recorded the entire project and released it to Spotify and, well, everywhere else.
“Oceanography” was a song about my longing for a particular guitar-playing guy to like me. It’s about that feeling of wanting to know everything about someone because you’re just that fascinated by them. The folksy “Smiles & Anchors” was dedicated to another guitarist, the title of the song taking its name from his band. The angsty alt-rock “Off the Deep End” was about a completely different guitarist and how I shouldn’t like him, and “Song of the Sea” was about a breakup with a fourth guitarist whom I dated in college. The album could have been called Songs About Guys Who Play Guitar Better Than Me. But they’re all part of my story, and I still love the songs to death, even if those guys aren’t in my life anymore. That’s the beauty of music I think. It’s a snapshot of a time in your life, and Oceanography represents so much of my history. That’s why it’s on this list. I am who I am today because of my lived experiences, and songwriting is my humble way of documenting those experiences. It’s my way of screaming into the void — I was here. Isn’t that what music is all about?
JESSA JOYCE 