As the 1990s dawned, your authors met at a university that nurtured professional ambition, scientific contributors, carousing hippies, and criminal footballers in equal measure. Also inhabiting campus was a man-sized inflatable vodka bottle that dramatically toppled upon its owner, not that one of us was responsible and laughed for five minutes afterward. Nor were either of us party to blue-flame insignia left on dormitory doors and carpets (and all you need is WD-40 and a lighter), skilled Frisbee sessions in the housing courtyard that inadvertently entertained or injured fellow students (all you need is a Frisbee), or demonic voices emanating from a fourth-floor window (microphone, delay pedal, Fender Twin). Apart from such hijinks and intermittent education, we and our dorm brothers loved music, bonding over common likes and quickly broadening our tastes.
Friends and aficionados since then, the two of us have relayed many discs, books, and thoughts back and forth. In 2013, while discussing The 100 Best Beatles Songs by Spignesi and Lewis, we mused that a similar volume of faves/factoids could be done for Rush, say, or Steely Dan (who would also inspire our site name). The seeds for collaboration were sown, the list idea kept beckoning, and here it be.
With so much best-this and top-that already available, why should you care about our efforts?
- Because you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.
- Because you’re a fan of the selected artist and just as curious about what comes last as you are about #1.
- Because the front desk will hold your calls when Someone Is Wrong On The Internet.
- We rank with as much objectivity as can apply, write with occasional incisiveness, and find the format a fun way to pay tribute to music we find deserving. If any of it rekindles a reader’s enthusiasm or turns them onto something new, that ain’t a bad thing.
Chris abandoned early seafaring dreams to promote truck ’n tractor pulls, moonlighting as a “conjugal air-hockey instructor” (females only) and guitarist at the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe. None/some of which may be true, as his role in the intelligence agency allows scant biography except for the fact that music has been a passion since learning to hear.
Meanwhile, Todd is still learning to hear, so he keeps his ears with him at all times – even risking great peril while living amongst the earless Mongrelite tribesmen of sub-Saharan Africa who consider ears a rare, forbidden delicacy. Rather than leave them in a rented locker at the border of New Mwandishi, Todd secreted his lobes into his shoes and listened to his sole.
Emails to greenbook at frequency-boost dot org are welcome.