The finale - Part 10 as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry. Rest of the list is here.

2003
“Keep Me In Your Heart” - Warren Zevon
The whole reason to try to be involved in music is to give back in some small way, to carry on the legacies that came before and become some piece of link in the chain. The documentary on Zevon's dying days got to me and I felt fortunate to be able to review it. When it was issued on DVD, the producers used so much of my review on the outer package that people called me to say how much they enjoyed my “liner notes.” That was OK – it was writing from the heart.

“Redemption Song” - Joe Strummer & Johnny Cash
When Johnny Cash made his comeback he performed at the Pantages Theater. At the after party I got a chance to meet Cash and two of my idols, Morey Amsterdam and Joe Strummer. As for the song, written by Bob Marley, my favorite version is Marley's on “Talkin' Blues”; my other favorite is listening to my wife sing it, like she did at the beach one day soon after we began dating.

2004
“Surf's Up” - Brian Wilson
First heard the Beach Boys version in a Wherehouse in Granada Hills when I was in the eighth grade and there was something so distant and discouraging about it that I had to get more. On the “Surf’s Up” album, it’s a curious song; on “Smile,” it’s a summation of one man’s bent and twisted mind.

“Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” - Arcade Fire
Best band to emerge this century. They had a Hollywood Bowl show that was one of the best concerts I have ever seen.

2005
“Debe” - Ali Farka Toure & Toumani Diabete
Absolutely magical music making from Mali.

“Off the Record” - My Morning Jacket
Critic time: Best album of the year.

2006
“Infinito Particular” - Marisa Monte
From one of the best albums of the year; her concert on this tour featured some of the most innovative lighting design I have ever seen.

“The Blue” - David Gilmour
I'm no Pink Floyd fan but I am partial to Gilmour. An elegant album of the first order, his live shows in support of the disc elevated this material and made the Floyd songs feel fresh and viable rather than retreads. And I sat through that concert with a gout attack in progress. 

2007
“100 Days, 100 Nights” - Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings
Soul music of the highest order, delivered fresh in the 21st century. 

“Seahorse” - Devendra Banhart
Devendra was a question mark in my book until he delivered a spellbinding performance at Coachella. As long songs go, this is one of my faves.

If I had to make a choice for 2008, right now I would go with “Ragged Wood” by Fleet Foxes and
“All Alright” by Sigur Ros. They are two bands who represent the future tethered to the thought-out past. Genius stuff here, the sort of music that gives me hope that artists with the potential to create great music will gravitate to the artform and keep it elevated while others worry about sales figures and having the novelty hit of the day. A source of enjoyment and enlightenment, it makes me glad to be where I am, doing what I do.

Part Nine as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry. Rest of the list is here.

1998
“Whippin' Picidilly” - Gomez
The band that most closely resembled the Band, which is the one group I feel bad about omitting in this compilation. I thought they would really go places, connecting with audiences thirsting for groups that played well together, switched out lead vocals, knew how to harmonize and make their sound new and rooted in deep traditions. The last time I actually enjoyed myself at the god-awful Whisky, they were playing.

“Os Passistas” - Caetano Veloso
Didn't learn about the great Brazilian singer-songwriter until the mid-1980s and by then his legend was firmly established in his homeland and England where he lived when in exile. A great story about politics, identity and art, but beyond that an artist whose voice coveys soulfulness and meaning in every note.

1999
“The Face of Love” - Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Eddie Vedder
After a phenomenal life-affecting show by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan at the House of Blues, I became friendly with his promoter in the U.S. I was even fortunate enough to meet Nusrat a couple of times. Once was backstage at the Universal Amphitheater. A bunch of us gawkers — Michael Stipe, Flea, Roseanna Arquette, a few other famous types - were watching Nusrat and his band line up before taking the stage. My buddy emerges, looks over at the waiting crowd and shouts “hey Phil,” beckoning me over to where the group was gathering. Baba translated while Nusrat and I spoke. I felt like the coolest kid in school.

“She's a Jar” - Wilco
One of the few bright spots during my short residency in St. Louis was the opportunity to see this local band called Uncle Tupelo play every Tuesday night in the basement of a pizza parlor. Liked them, didn't love them, but after they broke up I was enthralled by the shows given by the two bands they split into - and they kept getting better with each subsequent tour.   

2000
“Open All Night” - Son Volt
And at one point I even though Son Volt might be the better of the two bands. This track was on a  Bruce Springsteen tribute album that was a decent effort. “Nebraska” is one of my favorite albums; this was a way to get it and Jay Farrar on the list.

“Sycamore” - Saint Etienne
The critic kicks in. A track from my favorite album of 2000. Or at least the one I deemed to be the best.

2001
“Redencion” - Cachaito
After 9-11, plenty of shows were cancelled. The first concert I attended was Chicago, just to see how “American” the night might be. A few nights later I went to see Cachaito, the bassist in the Buena Vista Social Club, wondering the opposite: will it feel foreign? Club was far too empty and yet he played like he was in a packed room back in Havana. One of my favorite albums of the year.

“Give Paris One More Chance” - Jonathan Richman
Jonathan Richman, who wrote “Roadrunner,” “Important in Your Life” and “Abominable Snowman in the Market,” is another artist my wife and I bonded over. He had to make the list and what better than way than use the tune that mentions the city in which we got engaged.

2002
“Do You Realize??” - Flaming Lips
My favorite single of the year even if it was in a computer ad.(That didn't bother me). I predict  Wayne Coyne will be much more appreciated in the second half of this century than the first. In 2060, he will be that generation's Nick Drake and the kids will wonder why the Flaming Lips were not among the biggest bands on the planet. 

“Don't Give Up On Me” - Solomon Burke
Real simple: Title track from my favorite album of the year.

Part Eight as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry. Rest of the list is here.

1993
“Scarlet Begonias” - The Grateful Dead
First song, final set, last Dead show I ever attended. December 1993. (They opened with the Beatles' "Rain" the other two nights: Very cool.) Branford Marsalis jammed with them; Ornette Coleman was there during the run, too. My first Dead show was in 1974 at the Hollywood Bowl; the best was in Philadelphia in January 1979 during a blizzard, about as solid a mix of the old blues-based material and the jazzier works. Had my ups and downs with their records and concerts, but the more I listen, the more I miss Jerry's playing. (Yes, it's a bit of cheating to include a live tune, but I had to the Dead into this list and they got trumped in '72, '73 and '77).

“The Carnival is Over” - Dead Can Dance
Walked into a Tower Records in 1990 and heard otherworldly music. Dead Can Dance was the act. As perfect an example as I can think of reinforcing the need for record stores. I became transfixed, entranced and committed for life to this band - and it was all enhanced after I saw them perform. 

1994
“Mockingbirds” - Grant Lee Buffalo
Let’s see — try to tally the number of times I saw Grant at Largo or the number of times my buddy Flanagan booked him elsewhere or the time my wife knocked over all the drinks at a table for 10 at Largo.Nah, no need to go into all of that. Great songwriter, distinctive voice, great song.

“Fourth of July” - Dave Alvin
July 4, 1999 is my wedding date and part of it owes to seeing so many great Dave Alvin and Blasters shows. Dave is one of my favorite songwriters. "King of California" is one of the most-played CDs at our home. 

1995
“Scratch” - Morphine
Touring just as their second album was released, Morphine's first show at the Troubadour was one of those once-in-a-lifetime performances, something that feels remarkable when you experience it and only becomes greater in your mind when you discuss it later with others, especially those who were there. This track came from the follow-up album "Yes," at which time I thought they would become stars even if they never again recaptured the spirit of that one night. Tragically, the band’s leader, Mark Sandman, died at 47.

“Wonderwall” - Oasis
A perfect record. By a couple of obnoxious people.

1996
“Caramel” - Suzanne Vega
Another perfect record. By a delightful person.

“Cold Kisses” - Richard Thompson
I have been told I I am never starstruck, but the time I was in line behind Mr. Thompson at Virgin Airlines I apparently could not control myself - according to my wife who was unfamiliar with his work. After years of me telling her how great he is, my wife finally went to see him and became instantly converted to a Thompson believer. The man writes some pretty dark tunes, but this one gave me the creeps and fascinated me for months.

1997
“High Fever Blues” - Corey Harris
During a television convention in New Orleans, a crew of us walked into a place called the Funky Butt that was not as funky as the venues around it but a reasonable performance space. I had been infatuated with Corey's debut album, but it was this solo show - seemingly stumbled upon one January night - that supplied the  evidence of how magical a performer he can be.

“16 Days” - Whiskeytown
Never missed a local show by Ryan Adams, Caitlin Cary and their ever-changing entourage. For me, this was a highpoint of their career. I still feel bad that a review I did of one of their shows at the Mint never ran. Ah, the pre-Internet days.

Part Seven as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry. Rest of the list is here.

1988
“Fast Car” - Tracy Chapman
A perfect recording of a perfect performance of a perfect song. God knows how long I went without hearing it, but some time in 2005 or '06 it came on the radio and I swear chills came over me. One of the more amazing - and underrated - debut albums, I added "Tracy Chapman"  to regular rotation.  I remember seeing her play solo and think performers without bands have a resonance that those who use a band don't achieve. Then Sinead O'Connor came to these shores and I changed my mind.

“Fisherman's Blues” - The Waterboys
Mike Scott's one masterpiece, a Celtic vision of Dylan and the Band's “Basement Tapes.” Expanded edition of the album belongs in everyone's collection.

1989
“Little Floater” - NRBQ
Soon after I met the woman who would become my wife, I made a mixtape but did not include a song list. She said she loved the “zoom zoom song,” which had me mystified for a little while. When I realized it was the Q song, I knew she had good taste. I saw NRBQ twice in the early 1980s and thought they were OK; saw them about 20 times between 1987 and 1993 and thought they were one of the best bands in the world.

“I Won't Back Down” - Tom Petty
Tom Petty's music has been a bond in my relationships with my wife and younger daughter. My favorite show of his took place in San Francisco at the Fillmore during a 20-odd concert run. Two years ago, I caught two of his shows at opposite ends of the tour. First one, at Madison Square Garden, was professional and compact; second, at the Hollywood Bowl, was bolder, more nuanced and better paced. Evidence that bands can do the same show night after night and make some OK and some extraordinary.   

1990
“Loneliness Aint No Crime” - Barrence Whitfield & the Savages
My decade in New England was made tolerable by the abundance of fine bar bands that came out of Boston and there was no greater soul shouter - quite possibly in the U.S. - than Barrence Whitfield. (True story: His given name was Barry White.) The man could scream and sing, bounce between Sugarboy Crawford and Led Zeppelin and use every spot in a club for his own personal performance space. The Savages were a fine outfit, too, eventually carrying on without Barrence as Four Piece Suit.

“Put The Message in The Box” - World Party
One of the first bands I saw in Los Angeles after my return to California. Like his former bandmate Mike Scott of the Waterboys, World Party's Karl Wallinger is one of the few artists capable of combining Dylan and the Band with Beatles and producing something distinct. Had a lovely breakfast with him in Texas at which he told one of the craziest hard-luck stories ever.

1991
“Fall at Your Feet” - Crowded House
Neil Finn's melodies and vocals = The sound of heaven.

“My Eyes Keep Me in Trouble” - RL Burnside
A man who gave me faith in the blues, he worked hard, played hard and gave me a few good interviews. He seemed to be having a great time the last decade of his life. Hearing him tell his stories of plantation work made me realize how distanced we city folk are from a part of America that so many people believe has disappeared.

1992
“Tell Me You'll Be Waiting For Me” - Charles Brown
I was once consumed by Charles Brown, the most elegant bluesman ever. A Texan, classically trained with a penchant for the rococo, he defined West Coast blues of the late 1940s and early '50s before disappearing in the 1970s. Ray Charles emulated his style; admirers of his work with guitarist Johnny Moore included Eric Clapton, Bruce Springsteen and Bonnie Raitt. I wrote a semi-convoluted ,but mostly accurate, piece for L.A Weekly connecting the dots between recordings issued by the 1950s L.A. blues label Swingtime, Shirley Horn's interpretations of Brother Ray's songs and a Charles Brown album. His guitarist Danny Caron and Charles sent me the loveliest thank you letter. It was a compliment of the highest order and the beginning of a musician-journalist relationship that lasted until Charles died in 1999.

“Waiting for the Sun” - Jayhawks
Talk about a record that shoulda been a hit by  one of the best rock bands in America. “Hollywood Town Hall” was their masterpiece and this was the lead-off track. The shock really settled in three years later when "Blue," rich with sumptuous harmonies and a phenomenal refrain, failed to become a hit. One of the best songs of the decade.

Part Six as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry. Rest of the list is here.

1983
“Radio Free Europe” - R.E.M.
Plenty of R.E.M. songs are better and nothing tops meeting the band in Ireland with my older daughter right after her high school graduation. But in '83, not knowing who they were and seeing them open for the English Beat, I was immediately hooked.

“Let's Say Goodnight” - Los Lobos
From their EP “... And a Time to Dance,” a record I played at least twice a day for three months. I could listen to it at 6 in the morning or during dinner for this was the music I had heard in my head for years that did not exist yet in the real world. 

1984
“Jesus & Tequila” - The Minutemen
“Unsatisfied” - The Replacements

My first real taste of indie rock — in attitude and sound — and I was instantly hooked. Nothing was as dogmatic and liberating as the Minutemen; nothing connected as viscerally as the Replacements. For a good while “Unsatisfied” and “I Will Dare” were my theme songs; the Minutemen was the band I wanted to be in.

1985
“Makes No Sense at All” - Husker Du
“Walking around with my head in the clouds”: There's not a better line to define the year, one of significant change, owing mainly to the birth of my first daughter, two job changes and finally settling in a place I rather liked, Connecticut.

“Sorrow, Tears and Blood” - Fela Kuti
Not sure why it was happening but in 1984 and '85 African musicians were making their way to  Boston to perform. (I was living in New Hampshire). The one time I saw Fela was in some god-forsaken club and I could not tell you what year it was but the experience was unbelievable — I just remember the album out at that time was from Shanachie and this was on it. Years later, seeing his son Femi perform was another eye-opener.

1986
“Levi Stubbs' Tears” - Billy Bragg
Woody Guthrie is not a name you toss around lightly in my book and nor is Levi Stubbs, the ferocious lead singer of the Four Tops. A rarity in the songwriting world - a man who writes with conviction about romance and politics - Bragg was a great chronicler of the Reagan-Thatcher years. Wordsmith as a thorn in the side - a brilliant concept that has not been topped since.

“Sledgehammer” - Peter Gabriel
The “So” show was one of my all-time favorite concerts; “Sledgehammer” one of the great car radio jams that never seems to age; and Nick Park's video was my favorite of the 20th century. (Also vying for the top: David Bowie “Ashes to Ashes” and the Clash “This is Radio Clash”). 

1987
“Ngicabange Ngaqeda” - Mahlathini & the Mahotella Queens
The Howlin Wolf of South Africa, “Graceland” and “The Indestructible Beat of Soweto” led to an African feeding frenzy. It was not until 1990 that I got to see the act - with West Nkosi on guitar - and at that time they seemed to be one of the more invigorating acts on the planet.

“Have a Little Faith in Me” - John Hiatt
I interviewed John when this album came out, phone on my shoulder, pen in hand and a squirming daughter on my lap. “Having children,” John said, “is the only time one plus one does not equal two. It comes out somewhere around 3.2 in terms of how many people you feel like you're watching.” So true. P.S. Great as his version was on the album, it was even more riveting in performance on the tour that accompanied.

Part Five as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry. Here are entries one, two, three and four.

1978
“By This River” - Brian Eno
Loved this song from the moment I heard it in college. Flash forward more than 20 years. Cannes Film Festival, back when Variety had a stand next to the main theater. Music playing during arrivals of stars was louder than usual, so loud that it made talking on the phone difficult. “By This River” starts to play amidst the usual random collection of hit songs. Bewildered and awestruck, I raced outside to soak up the tune. The sky had turned an odd shade of gray with streaks of blue but no sense of rain, as if some art director had taken over earth’s controls and this was the chosen soundtrack for those three minutes. Never seen a sky like that since.

“She's the One” – the Ramones
It's the holiday shopping season in 1979. I'm working in a stereo and TV store in East Brunswick, N.J. where only one other employee is a punk rock enthusiast. We are mocked. I help a guy to his car with his new Sony TV and inside his Mercedes he has raised speakers in the back with stickers of the cover of the first Ramones album on them. “Ramones,” I say, thinking these stickers are more out of place than a Dead sticker on a Cadillac. “You a fan? They're my favorite.” He tells me he's their producer and we chit chat, informing me Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee and Tommy are working with Phil Spector, which was the epitome of cool and news I had not heard. He has no cash and asks for  my address so he can send me a tip. I say “how about an autographed copy of 'Road to Ruin'?” He takes the address and I figure I'll never see him again. Dec. 23, the mailman knocks on the door with my signed copy of “Road to Ruin.” Ed Stasium became my hero that day.

1979
“Pocahontas” - Neil Young
“Rust Never Sleeps” tour. Philadelphia. Fist time I am seeing Neil Young. He plays one song after an other that no one has ever heard. They are all great but the one about the guys with the rifles and the river and the other one about Marlon Brando stand out. Big time. Album comes out and I memorize it. Years later, at the sessions that would become “Unplugged,” he hits two notes and I naturally erupt in applause; listen closely and you can hear a few people respond before the masses. One of them is me.

“Accidents Will Happen” - Elvis Costello
Second time seeing Elvis Costello, he enters and with just piano accompanying him sings, what I believe is “Exodus will Happen.” A few weeks later, see him again and he repeats it. I'm still convinced the song has something to do with people following in the footsteps of Moses. “Armed Forces” comes out and he has made a pretty cool rock song out of “Exodus,” oops, “Accidents,” but then we play the bonus 45 and get to hear the version the way he played it. As far I could tell, it was the first Costello song that wasn't all brilliantly expressed anger.

1980
“I'm Not Down” - The Clash
The greatest band ever, or at least my favorite. “London Calling” was released in November 1979 in the UK and early 1980 in the U.S. British press declared it the best album of the ‘70s; American press declared it the best album of the ‘80s. That’s an achievement. Met every member of the band after the break-up and of course the coolest of the lot was Joe Strummer.

“Teacher Teacher” - Rockpile
Dave Edmunds and Nick Lowe used the same band for three or four albums but there was only one official Rockpile release. They opened for Van Morrison on one of Van's weaker tours; they were the embodiment of great rock 'n' roll.

1981
“Tempted” - Squeeze
One of the best pop songs ever. Written Sung by Paul Carrack, who also penned “How Long” when he was in Ace, a band that played the ballroom next to where my  high school prom was held. I snuck over to hear them play “How Long.” Years later, I go see Squeeze and they play “How Long.” Nick Lowe had Paul in his band for a while, and they did “How Long” and “Tempted.” Fortunately, I never saw Mike and the Mechanics.

“Because” - David Grisman
A friend called me one Saturday afternoon when I was in high school to tell me we had to go see the most amazing band at McCabe's, the David Grisman Quartet. We went and I was blown away. As much as Grisman tapped into the world of Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli, both of whom I idolized, he was playing music that didn't seem to exist anywhere except for wherever he was playing. I became a foot soldier in the DGQ army that day.

1982
“Senses Working Overtime” - XTC
“Town Called Malice” - The Jam

I have no affection for most so-called new wave and British pop of the early ‘80s; most of my immediate post-college years were spent acquiring old jazz, blues and rock records. There were exceptions, especially when it came to music from bands I admired in the '70s. XTC had me snagged with “Drums & Wires” and I would often argue that they were superior to Squeeze. The Jam was always inferior to the Clash in my eyes, but “Town Called Malice” is one of my favorite records ever.

-

Part Four as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry; here are parts two and three.

1973
“Solid Air” - John Martyn
I heard this album in a record store in a mall and ventured out in search of this disc. I found other albums by Martyn, who uniquely blended folk and jazz, but none had the magic I believed this one possessed. It would appear at times in import racks at astronomically high prices - I'm guessing six or seven dollars - and eventually I scored it used in the early 1980s. During the search for “Solid Air” conversations would start up about other artists from the era and the label, but I did not believe any of the others could be as good as Martyn. One of them was Nick Drake.

“Conference of the Birds” - Dave Holland
My role model on the bass. He plays nearly every form of  jazz imaginable and does it with a multitude of configurations including this track from a disc that is mostly improvised wildness. Sam Rivers and Anthony Braxton are the woodwind players; Barry Altschul is the drummer.

1974
“Down to You” - Joni Mitchell
“Late for the Sky” - Jackson Browne

More than any other albums, Joni's “Court and Spark” and Jackson's “Late for the Sky” were explanations of adulthood. Not sure what they were singing about - extreme amounts of disappointment actually - but the emotions felt more real than anything else I had ever heard.

1975
“Tangled Up in Blue” - Bob Dylan
The hardest task in assembling this set was picking one Dylan song. I had to play by my own rules: First song, first side of the album that affected me most. Bought “Blood on the Tracks” the week it was released and it did not leave my turntable for at least  a month. I love all of the stories in the songs, but this one’s the best - a drifter who can't quite shake a former lover winds up in the thick of an uprising and eventually realizes the importance of a common bond.

“Incident on 57th Street” - Bruce Springsteen
Second hardest task . . . I have heard him perform it only twice in concert and each time it brings chills. Most of that owes to the haunting quality of the song,  and my memories of spending a summer listening to “The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle” before Springsteen exploded with “Born to Run.”

1976
“One of These Days” - Mose Allison
One of those humble guys who is all about the music, in his case a blend of Jimmie Rodgers, Duke Ellington and Willie Dixon. He once told me in the early 1990s he'd play anything except “the plantation songs,” noting “that part of America doesn’t exist anymore.”  Percy Mayfield's widow grinned when we were chatting about Mose: “As long as Mose is performing, Percy is alive.” I loved the sentiment. I also named my wonderful dog Mose in his honor.

“I Wish I Was in New Orleans” - Tom Waits
“Small Change,” on which this appears, is the only album I have owned on CD, vinyl, cassette and 8-track. Saw him 18 times between 1976 and 1982; only four times since, the last being in Phoenix.

1977
“Don't Worry About the Government” - Taking Heads
From “Talking Heads 77,” the album that made me stop listening to anything without teeth. John Hiatt once said he heard “Like a Rolling Stone” for the first time in his mother's car while waiting for her. He figured he was such a different person after hearing it, that she might not recognize him. “Talking Heads 77,” left in my dorm room after a party, had that effect on me.

“A Remark You Made” - Weather Report
Musically there might not have been a better band on the planet at that time - Wayne Shorter, Joe Zawinul, Jaco Pastorious and Alex Acuna - and while they had a hit with “Birdland,” it was this ballad that thrilled me over and over. In the late 1980s, Eric Clapton started playing it as an intro to “Layla.”

Part Three as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry; part two is here.

1968
“Since You've Been Gone” - Aretha Franklin
The other greatest soul singer. We did an interview in early 2008 in her hotel suite, eating chicken wings and drinking ginger ale. A week later, the L.A. Times ran an article on how she adheres to a strict diet. I'm forever grateful that I visited on her day off.

“Alone Again Or” - Love
Not sure when I first heard this but it was love (pardon the pun) at first listen. The album on which it appears, “Forever Changes,” came into my possession during college and I started accumulating other discs from the band, wondering why this group from my hometown was not more of a legend. Then it slowly started to creep out in the 1980s, this belief that “Forever Changes” was a mystical masterpiece; that the band's leader, Arthur Lee, was one of rock's forgotten men; that somehow the wrong Sunset Strip band, the Doors, had become deified over time. I met Arthur in 1993 as a journalist and we became good friends - he'd call at all hours to talk about anything from some European bookings to his ailing pet bird. He went to jail, came out and had a thorough career rejuvenation. It warms my heart to know that he did not die in total obscurity. (Irony of this is that “Alone Again Or” was written by his bandmate Bryan McLean).

1969
“Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End” - The Beatles
The first album I ever purchased with my own money. Bought it at the Northridge Kmart for $4.66 in late 1969. I always favored the B side over the A side - “Polythene Pam” is more fun than “Octopus' Garden”  - and this brings the Beatles saga to a close. It's a crime the CD does not duplicate the segue the way the album does.

Dreams - Allman Brothers Band
I am no fan of Southern Rock, but I will be a lifelong devotee of the Allman Brothers Band. To be honest, “Live at Fillmore East” was the first of their albums I acquired and did not even become acquainted with this song until their first two albums were repackaged as “Beginnings.” “Dreams” is a reinvention of the blues, one of Gregg's strongest early vocals and a dramatic tapestry of the guitars of Duane Allman and Dicky Betts and the bass of Berry Oakley. A wholly different type of complexity from any other rock music of the day, or at least so I thought — and still do.

1970
“Into the Mystic” - Van Morrison
Like this needs explaining? On a personal level, my favorite rock singer.

“Simple” - Traffic Sound
As an exchange student in Mexico City in 1972 — watching the “Immaculate Reception” described in Spanish was quite confusing — I often hung out with the eldest son of the family I was staying with. He was a serious fan of the Animals and loved psychedelic rock 'n' roll, his favorite album at the time of my visit being “Virgin” by Traffic Sound. They were phenomenally popular in their homeland of Peru, but little known elsewhere. I returned to the States in January 1973 and started looking for “Virgin,”  a quest that would take 23 years. Coincidentally, it cost $23 when I finally found a vinyl copy in Manhattan.

1971
“I Used to be a King” - Graham Nash
“Songs for Beginners,” Nash's first solo album, made me think he had more to say than Crosby or Stills. It's among the records I would say I “wore out” from so many listenings, “I Used to Be a King” battling with “Man in the Mirror” as my favorite track.

“Low Spark of the High Heeled Boys” - Traffic
Great album cover with two corners lopped off to suggest a 3-D effect. It made me fall in love with lengthy songs that have interesting twists and turns. One of life's great disappointments: The first time I saw Steve Winwood he played the tune for a mere two minutes and then stopped.

1972
“Ziggy Stardust” - David Bowie
KRLA was a great rock station on the AM dial, and for a year or so as adventurous as any FM station in the country. During that period they started playing this album “Hunky Dory” by a Brit named David Bowie, who sounded like a British folk-rocker. I bought “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” right when it came out, not realizing I was participating in the birth of glam rock. For years it stood out as anomaly in my collection as I had little use for any of Bowie’s peers beyond Marc Bolan and Lou Reed. Flash forward 26 years and I'm at a play in London. It is intermission and I get a water and avoid the crowds by hanging out in the relatively empty lobby. Standing across from me, lighting a cigarette, is Bowie. After a minute or so I figured if nobody else is going to bother him I would. We talked art, theater, music and Brian Eno. It might have been the highlight of the trip – had I not become engaged. 

“Vaseline Machine Gun” - Leo Kottke
Record fanaticism, PBS and a telephone. L.A.'s KCET used to have auctions on TV — this would last a week I think — and viewers would bid on lots by phoning in. Analog eBay. Seeing a good cause and a chance to enhance my budding record collection with albums by guitarists I barely knew, I phoned in my paltry bid on several albums from the Takoma label. I liked John Fahey, but I fell head over heels for Leo Kottke. I was actually quite nervous when I met him in 1995;  the man remains in a league of his own.

Part Two as I pick two songs from every year of my life based on the songs that were important to me at the time or have had a lasting impact on the me. The ground rules are in the first entry.

1963
“Anyone Who Had a Heart” - Dionne Warwick
Loved her, dismissed her, fell in love with her again, dismissed her, grew to like her, met her, fell in love again. Burt Bacharach told me Dionne's brilliance was her ability to sing lines on a page in a way that went beyond what was written yet did not stray from the intentions of Burt and lyricist Hal David. I don't think there is a better example of that than this recording.

“We Shall Overcome” - Pete Seeger
When I was growing up, it seemed like the only things that were compartmentalized were sports seasons and school schedules. Music, for example, was wide open territory and I never found it odd that my father liked Charlie Parker, Nancy Wilson, Jobim, Pete Seeger and the sound of the banjo. That he would enjoy a man singing about labor unions — now that was strange. My first birthday gift to my father after we moved to the East Coast in 1976 was to take him to see Pete at his annual Thanksgiving concert at Carnegie Hall, which is where this was recorded. Fourth row, stage left seats, we sang along and had a great time. Sixteen years and four of his concerts later I finally met Pete, a truly inspiring man.

1964
“No Particular Place to Go” - Chuck Berry
With the exception that he wrote his own songs, Chuck Berry is a lot like Pete Seeger: Stories of everyday people in situations they feel they need to change. While Pete is talking about oppression of workers, Chuck is concerned with the speed of cars, guitar-playing and, in this instance, driving, parking and removing a girl's seat belt. The important thing: The whole family can sing along.

“Killing Floor” - Howlin Wolf
Heresy for some members of the blues police, but you can’t tell me there was a better blues singer than Howlin Wolf. Wolf and Muddy would get radio airplay in the late 1960s in L.A. and I had no idea what it was or if it was even from this planet. I was10 years old, but it made me want to know more about music.

1965
“96 Tears” - ? & the Mysterians
My favorite rock record, not to be confused with rock song or even the greatest rock song, which would be “Like a Rolling Stone.” Searched for years to find the album, which I discovered at the bottom of a pile atop a pinball machine at an outdoor flea market in Massachusetts. I trembled as I handed over my dollar to pay for it.

“Please Let Me Wonder” - Beach Boys
A “Pet Sounds” tune would be too obvious. Besides, everyone should own “Pet Sounds” and have the Beach Boys classic memorized. Too often, though, the suggestion is that it sprang out of thin air, that its direct predecessor was “Fun, Fun, Fun” and surf tunes. Taken from “The Beach Boys Today” - and issued as the B-side to their cover of “Do You Wanna Dance?” - this is the starting line for Brian Wilson's transition. An absolute gem, even if Mike Love is singing lead with Brian.

1966
“The Trip” - Donovan
Don't know what possessed him, but my father bought a bag of 45s at a home improvement store one afternoon and gave them to my brother and me. “The Dangling Conversation” by Simon & Garfunkel; “Hungry” by Paul Revere & the Raiders; and “Sunshine Superman” by Donovan. They were our first 45s. For some odd reason, we played the Donovan single the most - both sides. This was the B-side.

“I've Been Loving You Too Long” - Otis Redding
The best single from the greatest soul singer ever. As expressions of love as pain go, nothing tops it.

1967
“Fakin' It” - Simon & Garfunkel
It made me laugh when the kid in “Almost Famous” comes home and has to hide his copy of S&G's “Bookends” from his mother — it was the first album my parents ever gave me. Even as a 10-year-old, I was drawn to the theatricality in the spoken interlude, the ringing of a shop's bell and the voice of a school boy, not to mention the lyric about being a tailor in an earlier life. The other songs on the album seemed so easy to understand, even “Mrs. Robinson” to some degree, and as the years go by, this is a shining example of how important Art was to Paul.

“Waterloo Sunset” - The Kinks
Love the line “I am in paradise.”

A fun little exercise has been making its way around the Internet this year in which music fans are asked to pick one song or an album for every year rthey are alive. Before I had heard of this fun little time-waster, I had already begun compiling a list of the 100 songs that are most important to my (almost) 50 years on Earth.
But I had to make it harder on myself. For starters, it's a year-by-year reflection of my taste, personality and inspiration based on songs that were important to me at the time. Obviously the first nine years is handled all in retrospect, but I had to go with songs that I obsessed over and not tunes that today are cool.
These are songs and records that are dear to my heart.
My  ground rules. One song per artist, although leeway was given to artists with solo works and group recordings; two songs per year of release (an A side and a B side); and, when in doubt, I opted for the song or album track that had the better story attached to it. It also had to make some sort of collective sense.
Up through 1968, with the exception of one tune, the appeal is purely retrospective. The years 1969-1981 are those of an obsessive record collector; '82-'99 are years of contemporary discovery, of living in the moment musically; the 21st century has been far more broad in terms of music digested professionally, but more selective in terms of music that adheres to the soul.
I hope to dole these out in digestible fashion, five years per weekday until I hit my 50th birthday on Oct. 21.

1958
“Rave On” - Buddy Holly
From the first time I heard and saw Buddy Holly, I loved everything about the guy — the look, the way he played the guitar, the voice, the hiccup in the vocals and the intensity.

“Twilight Time” - Platters
The brilliant opening lines of “Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's twilight time/Out of the mist your voice is calling, 'tis twilight time/” delivered by Tony Williams' booming tenor barely tells half the story. The tune is stocked with words found in novels, not songs: “Deepening shadows gather splendor”; “here in the afterglow of day”; “the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold” - it's an astounding song. The melody lodged itself in my brain at about the age of 15 and stayed there for about six or seven years, regardless of whether it was competing with Joni Mitchell or the Ramones. John Fahey, the eccentric and brilliant guitarist, was equally enthralled and he recorded and played the tune in concerts; Leo Kottke plays it as well in tribute to his mentor.

1959
“Naima” - John Coltrane
It was Christmas 1974 and I received this newly released album titled “Alternate Takes” by John Coltrane. I had become a fan by checking out his albums at the library, but this was the first one I ever actually owned. There's not a lot different between this take and the one originally issued, but this version has a bit more of a sympathetic heart toward the end; the simple yet pronounced bass playing of Paul Chambers made me want to play the bass better and learn jazz. To this day, it’s one of my favorite melodies.

“So What” - Miles Davis
Again, Paul Chambers on bass. From “Kind of Blue,” the most significant jazz recording of my lifetime. Like all the compositions on the album, “So What” was created on the spot. This is not improvising, this is creating a new language. Miles, the coolest guy ever, leading a band with Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley and pianist Bill Evans. Proof that music can be astoundingly complex and popular.

1960
“Cathy's Clown” - the Everly Brothers
Back in the early 1970s, my parents offered to take us to an amusement park and while I was torn between Knotts' Berry Farm and Magic Mountain, it boiled down to the musical attractions: Trini Lopez at Magic Mountain, the Everlys at Knotts. A few days after catching Trini run through “If I Had a Hammer” and “La Bamba,” I read in the paper that the Everlys had a fight onstage and broke up. At the time I was relieved that I got to see a full show; over time I kicked myself for missing a piece of history.

“Walk, Don't Run” - the Ventures
The greatest surf single of all-time? Quite possibly. More bizarrely, when my older daughter was about 1 and nothing would console her, putting her into a swing and playing “Walk, Don't Run” would do the trick. Any parent will tell you, that's magical music.

1961
“Little Sister” - Elvis Presley
Backed with “(Marie's the Name of) His Latest Flame,” this may well be the most atypical 45 of the King's career. Always loved both tunes for their lyrics, use of guitar and the snarl in Elvis' voice.

“At Last” - Etta James
My younger daughter  was in college and playing this tune in her dorm room. A kid told her “that the music sounded so old that if it were TV it would be in black and white.” She defended its greatness; I beam with pride.

1962
“He's a Rebel” - The Crystals
Gene Pitney's brilliant story song surrounded by a nuanced string-free Phil Spector arrangement, Darlene Love takes lead on a shining moment in girl group history. I used a picture of the 45 as my first column logo in a newspaper (Foster’s Daily Democrat in Dover, N.H., for the record).

“Green Onions” - Booker T. & the MG's
The greatest rock instrumental ever. Ever.

TOMORROW: 1963-1967