10 Records That Changed My Life

And why they are some of my most favourite albums

Hello! When was the last time you went to the dentist? I had an appointment this morning, which set me back a few hundred dollars because I hadn’t been for ages until a couple years ago, and I literally paid the price for it. So, book that biannual checkup today and don’t get caught out needing seven fillings like I did! Now, let’s change the subject, shall we?

Don’t laugh, but I have around seventy vinyl records and no turntable (there’s nowhere to put one). A few years ago, I set out to buy a handful of my absolute favourite albums on vinyl so I could frame them. That turned into an armful, thanks to birthday and Christmas gifts. Then I discovered cool colour variants and limited edition represses. The next thing I know, I’ve got briefcases of the bloody things – it doesn’t help that we sell them at my work and I get staff discount. I’ve also been buying CDs since I was a kid, so I’ve got a couple hundred of those soon-to-be relics of the past too. After remembering how much of a pain in the arse it is to box them when moving house, I decided to stop buying CDs this year. So, after a recent addition from a good friend last Record Store Day, I thought it would be cool to recall some of the albums that have shaped me over time. Here are ten records that changed my life and why, in order of release, with my favourite song from each.

Metallica – Metallica/The Black Album (1991)

This is one of the first albums that I ever bought. I remember turning over the solid black CD in the store and seeing bangers like “Enter Sandman” and “Wherever I May Roam” on the back and being sold. My mum and stepdad got married on the beach to “Nothing Else Matters” playing from a boombox, so it also soundtracked some important moments in my life. It was the album that turned a lot of fans away, but it also gained an entire generation of them. I recently read the band’s biography Enter Night by Mick Wall and it gave me newfound respect for them. To learn how they fought against the odds to pioneer a genre and remain one of the biggest bands in the world was nothing short of incredible. My first concert was the Death Magnetic tour at Brisbane Entertainment Centre in 2010, which was a cool full circle moment. I also have more Metallica records than any other artist in my vinyl collection.

Bush – Sixteen Stone (1994)

This is the other first album that I bought, purchased at the same time as The Black Album. “Glycerine” and “Machinehead” played at home a lot growing up and introduced me to grunge (Bush were my Nirvana) before they became one of my favourite bands. Gavin Rossdale’s warm British accent over garage rock was the bygone style that I didn’t know I needed. I didn’t know what he was singing about, but the nonsensical lyrics sounded cool and that was enough for me. Quiet verses with meandering basslines and loud choruses with fuzzy riffs would tumble from my bedroom and headphones for years to come. I saw them at the 2012 Soundwave and again in the front row at Under the Southern Stars a decade later – for free – where they played a set comprised of songs only from their first and most recent records at the time. I paid $100 for a hoodie with this artwork on the front there, too.

Linkin Park – Hybrid Theory (2000)

Like many people my age, this record changed the game for both my music taste and emotional stability. This was probably the first time that I heard rap, turntables and screaming, let alone together (I hadn’t yet discovered Rage and was never much of a Limp Bizkit fan) and it blew my mind. My mum gave me a burnt copy that I spun multiple times a day, in my stereo and in her old Walkman, until it was so scratched that it perpetually skipped. It’s come to my attention that these guys are referred to as ‘dad rock’ nowadays – I’m not even 30! – although I’ll never hear this album and not think of listening to it in my room as an angsty teen. Linkin Park are probably still my number one and my first tattoo commemorated the late Chester Bennington. It’s near impossible for me to choose a favourite track, so I’ll leave you with one that I covered a few years ago.

Eminem – The Eminem Show (2002)

This one opened the floodgates for hip hop, thanks again to my mum. Eminem exposed me to D12, Dr. Dre and Xzibit by extension and gave me a creative outlet when I didn’t know how to play an instrument. He taught me how to write, count syllables and when to breathe for a tight flow. I learned about internal rhyme schemes from him and probably spent more time analysing the lyrics on this record than studying for school. With guitar-driven boom bap beats over string sections and piano melodies, it was also largely produced by the man himself. This record not only influenced my own style, but also soundtracked much of my high school career. My best friend and I would share an earbud each with old Em playing in class and stomp around finishing each other’s lines to “Square Dance” and “When the Music Stops” at lunchtime. Remember when albums were twenty tracks long and ran for an hour fifteen minutes?

Blink-182 – Blink-182 (2003)

The same dudes who made a name for themselves with toilet humour and dick jokes proved that they could also be sad and angry – and really good songwriters. I’m pretty sure that I was already familiar with Blink from hearing the Enema of the State singles, but this is the album that made me fall in love with them. It introduced me to emo/pop punk, probably my most-played style of music (it’s not a phase), and the satisfying sound of overlapping harmonies. Travis’ breaks are insane, Tom’s riffs are timeless and Mark’s lyrics are poignant as ever. “I Miss You”, “Down” and “Always” take you on the emotional rollercoaster of love and loss, while the six-minute closer “I’m Lost Without You” rides the album out on a bittersweet tearjerker. I was fortunate enough to see them live this year with the original lineup, the reunion of which was some of the biggest music news of my generation.

Slipknot – Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses (2004)

My stepdad introduced me to the big nu metal bands like Slipknot, Korn and Mudvayne at a young age, which quickly became my preferred genre throughout my adolescence. Slipknot were the most fascinating – what kid wouldn’t be enamoured with nine dudes in horror masks and boiler suits? – and this album in particular was on heavy rotation. It saw the band move towards a more accessible sound with sensible arrangements (and no explicit language) without losing their intensity or sinister appeal. Corey Taylor’s darkly poetic lyrics both inspired my own pessimistic creative writing and expanded my vocabulary, while Joey Jordison’s drumming was the fastest I had heard and Clown’s twisted vision left me in awe. I would wear a black shirt with that nine-pointed star and tribal logo on it with pride. Strangely enough, they became a family favourite and I’ve seen them live with my parents thrice.

Illy – The Chase (2010)

I had heard the singles from Hilltop Hoods’ State of the Art and Bliss n Eso’s Running on Air, but “Cigarettes” was the first Aussie rap song that really clicked with me. It just felt more humble and relatable, which inspired me to rap in my native tongue about what I know. I had an MP3 player by then and most of the hip hop that I listened to after this was local, although he was my biggest influence. His hustle was contagious – the man dropped four albums in five years whilst studying a law degree! – and I even quoted him in my final yearbook (‘What some call delusional, others call focus’). The local references and huge production by M-Phazes just hit different, leading me to model my values on his and appreciate where I come from (I got the name Amity from the street I grew up on). I also have an Illy bobblehead atop the desk that I’m writing this from which nods to the beats I make.

Dream On Dreamer – Loveless (2013)

I discovered these guys by accident after they filled in for Sevendust as the opener on Avenged Sevenfold’s Welcome to the Family tour in 2011. It was the first that I had seen what would have been called post-hardcore at the time live and I was enthralled. This was just before their debut album Heartbound was released, the first on legendary label UNFD. It was also when I realised that aggressive music could have a positive message, which led me to local melodic metalcore acts like In Hearts Wake and Saviour. Loveless is an empowering journey of affirmation in loneliness and there’s really only a song or two that dwells on the darker side of it. When Dreamer announced that they were calling it a day, I got the art from this album tattooed, only to have them reform shortly afterwards (classic). “Hear Me Out” has encouraged many emotional breakthroughs and they are the band that I’ve seen live most.

Twenty One Pilots – Blurryface (2015)

A friend showed me “Car Radio” on the school bus one day then all of a sudden “Stressed Out” was everywhere. It was refreshing to hear a blend of musical styles presented as upbeat sad songs, the first sonic fusion that ticked all of the boxes for me since Hybrid Theory. This album brought a close friend and I together at uni and heavily influenced our own approach to making music. Tyler Joseph’s self-aware lyrics are somehow both literal and metaphorical, discussing anxiety, love and death with honest articulation, and inspired me to talk about my personal problems more openly – even if it is through song. From the dark rap opener “Heavydirtysoul” to the gloomy piano closer “Goner”, Blurryface is a bit of everything that suits almost any occasion. It’s the one that I keep coming back to in their catalogue when I put them on and it’s always there waiting for me when I need it.

Movements – Feel Something (2017)

It was hard to pick another emo record because there are so many that have helped me through some hard times – like Citizen’s Youth and Trophy Eyes’ Chemical Miracle – but I remember punishing the debut album from Movements when it dropped. This came at a pivotal point in my life when I was struggling with anxiety before I knew what it was and made me comfortable with a restless mind. I even made a poster for my bedroom wall with ‘Feel Something’ written in large letters and select lyrics on it to remind myself to fight the apathy. Pat Miranda’s intricate rhymes and spoken word elegies resonated with me both from a technical and emotional standpoint. The melodies and structures are simple but memorable (all of the best ones are) and the album ends on a hopeful note with the lines ‘There’s comfort in the quiet, solitude and rainy days/ I’ve got my sadness to a science, all I can do is hope for change’.

There you have it, folks! Trying to pick ten records out of hundreds that have impacted me in different ways throughout my life was a mission, but I hope this sheds some light on my music taste and listening habits. There are several albums that I had shortlisted which sadly had to be cut, although I’m sure I’ll find a way to work them into another post in the future. Maybe this read had you casting your mind back to buying physical media or bluetoothing songs between friends? Perhaps one of these records are also one of your favourite albums of all time? Or maybe you came across a name that you’re not familiar with who just might be your next obsession? Honestly, I wrote this more for myself because I often enjoy thinking back on when I first heard something that changed my life. I hope it makes you appreciate those moments are little more, too. Oh, and pay for your music!