In 1995, no significant albums were released.
Which might just be a be a tiny white lie; I’m not so sure. The year-by-year breakdowns currently appearing on this site begin life as a list of records (as you’ve no doubt surmised). Words scrawled on the backs of cigarette packets. Written in indelible ink on washroom walls. Block-printed onto placards to be distributed at Sufjan Stevens gigs.
The particulars of this list are then calibrated and cross-referenced, before the albums that have made the initial cut are played in their entirety to a focus group comprised entirely of those who think that Out Of The Blue by the Electric Light Orchestra is the zenith of popular music.
1995’s list however, now that its currently going through such a process, feels different, somehow, as if representing the point where my taste (or, if you prefer: understanding) diverged from any consensus as peddled by a music press betrothed to vacant gesture and muppets bouncing around Camden High Street on Union Jack-coloured space-hoppers.
I spent 1995 working in a record store. I’ve long been of the view that everyone should work in a record store (albeit those who don’t understand music should only do so in the dead zone of December, when the place is thronging with other ignorants buying reissued compilations of anodyne anti-sound for yet more people who don’t understand music). In retrospect it was an important time, if only because, when faced with such well-stocked racks, the spectrum of what I was listening to grew exponentially. If I hadn’t had worked in a record store I wouldn’t have discovered Eliza Carthy until much later. Or The Zombies, the Pretty Things, the solo work of Barry Adamson (only Eliza Carthy released an album in 1995, but you get the point).
So yeah, 1995’s Significant Albums will be the next post to appear here. And don’t expect Different Class or The Great Escape or Maxinquaye or Elastica or (What’s The Story) Morning Glory or any of those other redundant voguish statements because life’s both shorter and far more complex than the nostalgia industry will lead you to believe.
Below the words: something from 1995 that the ELO fans vetoed. I’d imagine because Disgraceful, the first album by Dubstar, isn’t necessary significant (in any concrete interpretation of the word). But it a record loaded with warm and fuzzy memories. Verdant afternoons in the park with a then-favourite lover, the rays of the sun a dreamy, embracing illusion.
Dubstar / Stars