Part 3 of my "100 Favorite Albums of the 1990s" list covers my freshman year of high school and the summer that followed. This was a major transition period for me musically. Fall of '93 was peak grunge before a steep drop-off the following year.
I'd owned a cheap electric guitar for a while by then (a metallic blue Yamaha Pacifica with a black pick guard and Floyd Rose tremolo), but played it poorly. The full extent of my prowess on the axe was banging out some Nirvana riffs and stumbling my way through the intro to Jimi Hendrix's "Purple Haze." Truthfully, by early '94 I was losing interest in rock music and the dreary elitism it seemed to demand, not to mention the skill and patience it took to learn how to play the guitar.
Kurt Cobain's suicide and the inevitable disbanding of Nirvana in the spring of '94 felt like the end of an era. The rise of Beck and the Beastie Boys shortly thereafter felt like the start of another. A summer trip to Europe, where I heard some UK 'ardcore/rave mixtapes at a friend's house, also proved fateful. By the end of the year my attention was almost fully turned toward hip-hop, with a growing curiosity for electronic dance music.
- Will G
The Juliana Hatfield Three: Become What You Are (8/3/93)
By '93 the mainstream floodgates had fully opened to alternative rock, grunge, indie etc. and, despite the initial wave being predominantly male, there now seemed to be more gender diversity in the mix. I was game for all of it and Juliana Hatfield Three's debut album, Become What You Are, swept me up in its mixture of twee lyricism, saccharine vocals, and hooky instrumentation. Maybe more "Sassy" than "Riot Grrrl" but it had a certain charm and grit that made for good listening.
The Breeders: Last Splash (8/31/93)
The Breeders' sophomore LP, Last Splash, is my favorite kind of album - a grower that lodges in your head, biding its time until you're suddenly compelled to acknowledge its greatness. The Breeders were Pixies bassist Kim Deal's "side project" that proved more popular than the Pixies themselves. Anchored by some infectious singles and peppered with some ace deep cuts and odd detours, few albums during my fall semester of freshman year were as weird, memorable, or essential as this one.
Nirvana: In Utero (9/13/93)
I vividly recall buying my copy of Nirvana's eagerly anticipated third LP, In Utero, at Newbury Comics in Boston, on a family trip to visit my older brother at college, and getting my first listen via Discman back at the hotel. Nevermind's adrenaline rush was replaced by something more oppressive and grotesque. A monumental album for sure, but it made me wonder - was this grunge thing getting a little too serious? Sadly, Kurt Cobain would answer that question by committing suicide only months later.
Melvins: Houdini (9/21/93)
Kurt Cobain was king in '93 and anything he touched demanded my attention. I'd heard he produced this album by this band I'd never heard of before. Turns out Cobain's involvement was highly overstated but I had to check it out. More Black Sabbath than Black Flag, I was dumbfounded by Houdini's colossal riffs and utter bizarreness - but, the Melvins became a key precursor to the sludge and doom metal bands I'd follow just over a decade later, with this LP being a cornerstone of the genre.
Pearl Jam: Vs. (10/19/93)
Another highly anticipated album I picked up same day as Nirvana's In Utero, Pearl Jam's sophomore album, Vs., turned out to be a spiritual counterpart. Both bands aimed to raise the stakes but, whereas Nirvana cultivated the demons within, Pearl Jam looked outside - producing a batch of quasi-political songs that struck me as clumsy and, in retrospect, a bit hackneyed. Pearl Jam's sound palette had expanded and there was a lot to like here, but grunge's self-importance was starting to wear thin for me.
Beck: Mellow Gold (3/1/94)
Two things catalyzed a big musical shift for me in the spring of '94 - Kurt Cobain's suicide and Beck's genre-defying commercial debut, Mellow Gold. My taste for grunge had waned and Cobain's passing felt like the end of an era. Beck's arrival felt like the start of another. Where grunge had calcified in its own miserable austerity, Beck's unlikely blend of hip-hop, rock, and folk sounded like an antidote. His music was absurd and irreverent and Mellow Gold felt like a mandate to lighten up and let loose.
Sonic Youth: Experimental Jet Set, Trash And No Star (5/3/94)
In retrospect, much of Sonic Youth's output wasn't all that enjoyable to me but the feeling was that they were an essential part of the alternative rock experience. Experimental Jet Set, the band's second Butch Vig-produced LP and eighth overall, was their last 90's-era album I spent much time with. Mellower than Dirty, in some spots more sinister, others more groovy, like its colorful cut n' paste artwork each song had its own unique quality that made for as fun a Sonic Youth album as you could expect.
Beastie Boys: Ill Communication (5/31/94)
The Beastie Boys' fourth studio album, Ill Communication, arguably found the group at their creative and cultural peak. Just edging out Beck's Mellow Gold for top spot for me in '94, this album dominated my summer and remains a huge favorite now. Its impact on my life can't be overstated. If Check Your Head had set the stage for me just a couple years prior, suddenly the Beastie Boys ruled my world and my attention was almost fully turned toward hip-hop. Out with the Doc Martens. In with the Adidas.
Bone Thugs-N-Harmony: Creepin on Ah Come Up (6/21/94)
For a time in high school I probably didn't keep the best social company and, as PG-rated as our shenanigans might've been, we thought we were pretty tough. Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's debut EP, Creepin on Ah Come Up, was our constant soundtrack and, up to that point, the most hardcore thing I’d ever heard. Like any gangsta rap, its harrowing tales of street life recounted through occult/horror tropes was a seductive fantasy, offering respite from the relative mundanity of privileged suburban life.
Deee-Lite: Dewdrops In The Garden (7/12/94)
Though I hadn't attended my first rave quite yet, a summer trip to Europe in '94 sparked my infatuation with electronic dance music. Deee-lite, best known for their 1990 hit single "Groove Is In The Heart", were active in NYC's underground dance music scene and their final album, the excellent Dewdrops In the Garden, among countless other "techno" albums I picked up indiscriminately in late '94/'95, served as an introduction to the candy-colored rave aesthetic I'd more fully marinate in later in the decade.
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