Album Vs Album: Bat Out Of Hell vs Bat Out Of Hell II

Over the last thirty years, Meat Loaf has been one of the few constants in my life. Whatever else may be going on, Jim Steinman's song and Meat's voice have always been there for me. I suppose "Rock & Roll Dreams Come Through" was more truth than my younger self had ever assumed. For personal reasons, I have found myself listening to more Meat Loaf recently than usual, which I realize is not a good sign for where my head is at right now.

That leads to the inevitable question for me; which album is the superior one, "Bat Out Of Hell" or "Bat Out Of Hell II"?

I've always had a reflexive answer to that question, but is my gut instinct right? That's what we're going to find out today.

"Bat Out Of Hell": The album that changed music, in its own way. Meat Loaf's debut album came out of nowhere, sounded like nothing else, and led to a host of people who would always be looked at with side-eye for liking such a ridiculous sound. Meat was a larger-than-life figure, and his music fit the bill. Jim Steinman found a unique blend of 50s rock and roll, Wagnerian opera, and Broadway cheese. We would learn down the line that it was Steinman who was the key to all of this working, as even the people who tried to copy his sound were unable to find quite the same sarcastic magic he made so effortless.

The album's highlights are undeniable. The title track was written to be the ultimate motorcycle song, and it absolutely is. Nine minutes of guitar solos (and guitars that sound like revving engines), pounding pianos, a narrative rollercoaster, and Meat's soaring voice, is a song that broke the rules of the time. It was a progressive theater song, which is something I'm not sure existed anywhere else. Meat's belting at the end of the song is the moment we know there's something truly special going on. "Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad" is the perfect love song for people who don't understand love. Steinman writes in pure sarcasm about icicles and Cracker Jack, drilling for oil on city streets, and riffing on Elvis to tell us love will not save the day.

Then there is the album's centerpiece, "Paradise By The Dashboard Light". It is an entire musical in its own right, telling us the story of how being 'proper' often puts us in positions we can't get out of. When sex becomes intertwines with marriage, the song blossoms into one of the greatest bits of writing I've ever encountered. Meat singing that he's a man of honor, but he wishes for the end of time so his promises can be voided is so hyperbolic you laugh, but also so desperately honest you cry. I don't know if Steinman intended to contemplate the idea of permanence, but the song asks us the question of whether maintaining one mindset forever is more virtuous than doing what is necessary to be happy.

"Bat Out Of Hell II": The sequel is bigger, in many ways. It is longer, even more sarcastic, and clearly the product of two men who were going to fall on their swords. "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" is one of the most overblown songs in history, and teased us with the mystery of what 'that' was. I have talked several times about the answer to that question, which fits into the same stunted view of love Steinman has always traded in. Steinman goes on to write lines telling us we can shove the future up our ass, and professing his love for The Three Stooges. No other album Steiman's songs appear on has ever revealed as much about him as this one.

A significant portion of the album is recycled, but when you're upcycling your best music, I don't consider that a problem. The spoken word piece is classic, and melodies from the verses of "It Just Won't Quit" and "Out Of The Frying Pan" are some of Steinman's best. Then there is "Rock & Roll Dreams Come Through", which sums up everything there is to know about the music. Steinman writes about the power of music, its ability to take us out of the moment and put up walls between us and our demons. Music can heal us, it can tap into pieces of ourselves we don't have access to when merely thinking. The drummer is indeed our pacemaker sometimes.

The Comparison: So which of these albums is better? That's actually a difficult question to answer, because we once again run into the battle between highlights and consistency. The original album has more all-time highlights, while the sequel has less dips. When I listen to the original, I will occasionally skip "Heaven Can Wait" and "All Revved Up With No Place To Go" as being inessential, and I will almost always turn it off before "For Crying Out Loud", because the multiple false endings can be a bit much for me. It's a record with four absolute classics, and three songs that fill things out.

The sequel has less of those classics. "I'd Do Anything For Love" and "Rock & Roll Dreams" are among them, but the rest of the album falls into that tier just below. Steinman also stretches things a bit too far with extended outros, that bagpipe bit being the worst of them. Add in the instrumental piece, and there's nearly ten minutes of the album that could be trimmed to make it a more impactful listening experience. Brevity was never Steinman's forte, and it wouldn't feel like him if the album didn't test out patience a bit.

The Verdict: I'm calling this one a split-decision, which I realize is a bit of a cop-out. If I'm being honest, the better album is the original. I can't deny the highlights are better than anything the sequel has to offer. Those four songs are as good as anything Steinman ever wrote, or Meat ever sang. I can listen to them over and over again without ever getting tired of them. The sequel, though, is the album I feel more emotionally connected to. It was a matter of timing, but when I trace my own musical identity, "Bat Out Of Hell II" is the center of my universe.

So yes, I am saying "Bat Out Of Hell" is the better record, but "Bat Out Of Hell II" is my favorite. I'm too weak to choose, but that's fitting, isn't it?

Album Vs Album: Blink-182 Edition

*With Blink 182 reunited, and a new album coming in a few weeks, it feels like the right time to look back at their glory days.*

Whether you liked the wave of pop-punk that ruled the airwaves in the early 00s or not, it's hard to deny the popularity of the movement, or the lasting impact many of those songs had. Whether it's a terrible Good Charlotte song, or Avril Lavigne's usurping of riot-grrl sensibilities, we still hear a lot of that music in the background of our lives. I have talked about how culture seems to have stagnated over the last twenty years, with everything over that time feeling like one long decade, and this is a remnant of that phenomenon. We are never rid of the previous wave of fads, because no new ones have come along to push them aside. The sounds that were popular then are popular now, even if the names that created the scene have moved on to other things.

For all that pop-punk had to offer, no one was bigger in that scene than Blink-182. They pushed things further, created more controversy, and sold more records than any of the other bands who rode the wave to success. If all those others still have careers to this day, it's because Blink-182 made it possible. Without their ability to merge pop melodies with snotty teenage attitude, punk would have remained Green Day and no one else in the eyes of the mainstream.

"Enema Of The State": The breakthrough record, catapulted into mainstream success by controversy and MTV. Featuring a porn star on the cover to go along with the blue wordplay of the title, the album landed itself in trouble early on for not just her presence, but a lawsuit from the Red Cross forcing the label to remove imagery that infringed on their intellectual property... and their reputation. "What's My Age Again?" started the ball rolling, both by being a perfectly crafted pop-punk single, but also being all over MTV with its censored nudist video. While Britney Spears and others were being provocative, Blink took things as far as they could on a censored medium. There was novelty in that approach, as well as some danger, and teenagers all over couldn't get enough of something they probably shouldn't have been seeing.

The record followed up with an even bigger single in "All The Small Things", which lampooned the pop stars of the day in its video, but also the idea of pop music with it's vapid, "Na na na" chorus. In three minutes of utter emptiness, Blink used three chords and some studio magic to spin gold out of nothingness. They would finally prove some worth with "Adam's Song", which for one brief moment showed the band wasn't always thinking with their dicks.

"Take Off Your Pants And Jacket": Following up that record was a huge task, but Blink had the tools at their disposal to do just that. None of the singles would reach the heights of their previous hits, but "Stay Together For The Kids", "The Rock Show", and "First Date" would do well enough to keep the ball rolling. The band leaned harder into their pop side, eschewing the few dirtier and more punk tracks "Enema" still sported, while also leaning harder into their bratty humor. "Happy Holidays, You Bastard" exists for no reason other than to gross-out the audience, while "Fuck a Dog" from one of the bonus editions handles things with all the delicacy you would expect.

Perhaps knowing they were pushing things as far as they could with this approach, or perhaps finally feeling like their teenage years were over as they approached thirty, this record would be the end of an era for the band, and for the entire pop-punk scene. Soon after, the people who were telling dirty jokes would be trying to tackle serious social issues. That would come with varying degrees of success, perhaps a limitation of their abilities, or perhaps the audience had been conditioned to think of them as nothing but jokes.

Putting the albums head-to-head, we face the question that has long plagued the analytic among us; is consistency more important than highlights? "Enema", without doubt, has the band's greatest songs. Nothing on "Take Off Your Pants And Jacket" can match the rough-around-the-edges glee of "What's My Age Again?", or the infectious stupidity of "All The Small Things". Everything Blink will ever be remembered for can be summed up by "Enema". If that record is the only thing you ever hear, you don't need to know anything more of the Blink story.

That being said, "Take Off Your Pants And Jacket" is the more consistent album. "Enema" has the highlights, but it also has a few lulls where the band is either fighting the polished approach the singles get, or they can't keep up the energy long enough to fill out the record. The second half of that record, in particular, loses steam and fails to deliver the pop in pop-punk. "Jacket" has the band fully bought into their success, not wasting a single track. While "Enema" is a couple of singles in the midst of a punk record, "Jacket" is a pop record where every song feels like it was written with the potential of being a single.

As good as "First Date" and "The Rock Show" are, "Online Songs" and "Story Of A Lonely Guy" could just have easily taken their place. Even cruder tracks like "Shut Up" have the sort of hooks that could have been on the radio, if the lyrics weren't so immature. So while "Enema" has the band's greatest hits, "Jacket" feels like it could have been a greatest hits album.

Looking at things from that perspective, I am faced with the decision between whether it is more essential to have three great songs or a dozen almost great ones. From a legacy standpoint, "Enema" is clearly the record to favor. Nothing can compare with those singles, and pop-punk and my memories would feel incomplete without them. From an enjoyment standpoint, "Jacket" is the record to favor. To sit down and listen through, there is simply no comparison from start to finish. This all comes down to where the fulcrum sits under the see-saw, and if we're asking which album is the better one, I think it's not as obvious as I just made it. While "Jacket" is the easier record to enjoy start to finish, and is probably the 'better' one, I find myself gravitating toward "Enema" more often, and I can't deny that.

Winner: "Enema Of The State"

Album Vs Album: Elvis Costello vs Morrissey

Long-running careers have arcs to them, where an artist's popularity and/or creativity will ebb and flow as their life changes, and as their audience changes in unwanted directions. Remaining both popular and relevant is a Herculean task, one few people have ever been able to pull off over the long haul. Whether it's through a creative dry spell, a new set of societal expectations, or simple fatigue to hearing a particular style, pretty much everyone winds up having a period of their career we view as the dark ages.

That holds true for both Elvis Costello and Morrissey. Both were making classic and important records early in their careers, but by the time the 90s rolled around, neither was enjoying the same critical acclaim or record sales of their heyday. Elvis Costello began experimenting, making records that moved further and further away from his new-wave persona, while Morrissey's whimpering and whining crossed the line from erudite musing to miserable self-pity. The public had grown tired of both men, so the start of a new millennium was the perfect time for a reinvention and return.

"When I Was Cruel": Elvis Costello's first 'rock' record in a decade was not the cynical return-to-form you might expect. Produced on his own, and having finally divorced from one-third of The Attractions for good, experimentation was still the recipe of the day. The music was built from the same components as his classic period, but with drum loops replacing some of Pete Thomas' back-beat, a dirtier sound distorting Steve Nieve's keyboards to the point of break-up, and a new bass player in the mix, this was a very different experience. It was a lo-fi, do-it-yourself approach that stripped away the gloss and pretension, going back to the basics of Elvis' searing voice and stabbing lyrics taking center stage.

Parts of the record can be hard to listen to, when the distortion sounds as if Elvis is screaming right into your year, or when a guitar buzzes as if the speaker under the amp is broken. Listening to "When I Was Cruel (No 2)" drone on as it tells a story that doesn't have the most captivating of characters can be a chore, as is having to sit through two different versions of "Dust". Elvis was filtering his experimentation through the prism of his past, but even as such, parts of the rainbow slipped past us, dissipating into the air, leaving us an incomplete picture.

"You Are The Quarry": Morrissey's return to form was less glamorized. Bringing back the "Attack Records" label from the dustbin of history, Morrissey kept on being Morrissey. Nothing about this record was much different in tone or style from his fallow years, but the sumptuous production this time around gave him a more colorful palate to paint his words atop. With indictments of America, England, and God himself, Morrissey was making clear he hated everyone and everything. That included himself.

The line about the American president never being "black, female, or gay" didn't age well, nor did the cheap heat cracks about Americans being fat and eating cheeseburgers. For a writer who once mused about Keats in his lyrics, Morrissey wasn't giving it his all when it came to the words he was singing. But geniuses don't always need to try to hit upon greatness. When he sings "the world is full of crashing bores, and I must be one, because no one ever turns to me to say 'take me in your arms'", it's such a romantically indulgent way of calling himself a loser. Contrast that with Beck stating it outright, and Morrissey's charms show through.

"I Have Forgiven Jesus" is the highlight of them all, with a lyric that touches on sexuality and identity issues, and how they co-exist with religion. Morrissey was made as he was, an outcast hated for much of his life for something out of his control, but he was made that way by his God, which is a cruel punishment to give someone before they are old enough to sin. Morrissey's forgiveness may nto be genuine, but the questions he grapples with are beyond answers.

Putting the albums head-to-head, the similarity in function, if not form, becomes apparent. Both Elvis and Morrissey were rising from the ashes of their imploded careers, making records that saw them finding their acid tongues and velvety melodies. In addition to their lyrical flourishes, both records have the artist's most compelling songs in ages, from a melodic standpoint. "Dust", "Soul For Hire", and My Little Blue Window" are gems of Elvis' madness cramming more words into a melody than should ever work. "Tart" is one of his most beautiful ballads, a rare point where the breakup in the recording reverberates the passion of the vocal, with beautiful imagery of crushed fruit and worn-out shoes drawing a picture of hopeless frustration. And as low-brow as it might be, the line in "Alibi" where he says, "If I've done something wrong there's no ifs and buts, because I love you just as much as I hate your guts" always cracks a smile.

Morrissey's rise is even more stark. "Irish Blood, English Heart" rides a riff that echoes that heartbeat, before opening into a flood of punk energy decrying the monarchy. "Last Of The Gang" and "All The Lazy Dykes" are the most pop-leaning songs perhaps in all of Morrissey's oeuvre, the former giving us the uncanny feeling of singing an earworm hook about "seeing the sun rise over smashed human bones". It was as if, for both men, they had been saving up their venom and their songs for an entire decade, to unleash them all at once, to remind us they had simply gotten bored with being themselves.

Both records also served as my entry point into their careers. They opened the door to a whole world of past music I previously knew nothing about, as well as a future of music that would prove to be a trial. But I'm not here to talk about Morrissey the person today, which is as much a gift to me as it is to him. I want to think about the music as just the music, at least for now. The memories it's attached to are unfortunate enough.

Rendering a verdict is difficult in this case. Both records showcase the lasting impact lyrics can have, while at the same time providing beautiful and unforgettable songs. They are sharpened blades driven into the side of the mountain as these men were climbing their way back to the top. They wouldn't remain there, but for each of them, they got one last moment of utter brilliance to reflect on.

Winner: "You Are The Quarry", for achieving the monumental task of making me like Morrissey.

Album Vs Album: Pinkerton vs Futures

Being an album that defines a generation is a burden, as well as a gift. While it ensures the album will live on in the public consciousness as time goes on, it slows or outright stops the process of re-contextualizing the album for the next group of fans to explore the music. What spoke to one generation is not guaranteed to have the same effect on the next, but sitting atop a golden pedestal puts those records out of reach, beyond the scope of criticism. While a negative attitude toward an album is nearly always viewed as being needlessly contrarian, taking that negative turn against an album of such importance can almost feel like heresy.

For people coming of age in the mid to late 90s, especially those who were outsiders or otherwise 'weird', Weezer was a revelation. Their emergence on the scene was the beginning of 'nerd culture' becoming a part of the mainstream, with "Buddy Holly" capturing the awkwardness of being unpopular, uncool, and unable to use modern slang in a way that didn't elicit laughter. Hearing Weezer was a signal to those people they weren't alone, they weren't as weird as they thought themselves to be, and they didn't have to hide who they were.

But we aren't here to talk about Weezer's "Blue Album". That record was the first statement, but Weezer's true importance to that generation came with their next record, which for many people opened the door to the music we now call 'emo'. It was the first time many heard such detailed expressions of pain and frustration, the first time many heard themselves reflected in the music they were listening to.

"Pinkerton": As far back as I can remember, this album has been the cherished north star of nerd culture. Both a commercial and critical failure, "Pinkerton" nevertheless hit people in their souls, speaking to them in a way no hit record ever could. Rivers Cuomo was in crisis as he wrote the songs that would make up the album. He was suddenly famous, his plan for a sci-fi concept album was not coming together, and he had enrolled in Harvard while going through painful physical rehabilitation. It was a recipe for bitter and angry music, as his existential crises stripped away whatever filter had (or should have) been put between his mind and his pen.

What so many love about "Pinkerton" is how it sounds like Rivers' journal being put to music. The lyrics tell of the frustrations of being rejected, dotted with detailed observations of his life as he went through out-of-body experiences. The stream-of-consciousness lyrics of "El Scorcho", where Rivers describes watching underground wrestling on television, are treated as a fit of artistic genius. They are not, but the level of detail isn't the real issue at hand.

Rivers Cuomo has always been a master at one thing; writing hooky songs that figure out the earworm formula. "Pinkerton" is no different than his "Blue Album" in that regard. The sound may be dirty and dingy, but the melodies on "Across The Sea", "Pink Triangle", and "Falling For You" are classics for a reason. Rivers the musician was in full flight during this period, not yet jaded enough by success to have given up trying. There's an obvious reason why "Pinkerton" spoke to so many people.

Unfortunately, how it spoke is the problem. Rivers the musician was on top of his game, but Rivers the lyricist was not. Beyond his chronicling of the mundane, "Pinkerton" is a catalog of toxic attitudes, all directed at the women in (and not in) his life. Rivers reduces women to a list of sexual conquests, uses domestic violence as a metaphor, lusts over a barely legal girl, blames his mother, pleads for a lesbian to sleep with him anyway, and conjures a rape fantasy. I have explored all of this in more depth here, but the legacy of "Pinkerton" is not complete without understanding how so many people who would now be labeled as 'incels' have grown up listening to Rivers casually and thoughtlessly tossing out so much misogyny.

"Futures": Coming out nearly a decade later, when Weezer's influence in promoting emo culture had already come and gone, Jimmy Eat World was speaking to a new generation of outcasts. "Bleed American" was a "Blue Album" for that next group of fans, crossing over to the mainstream to introduce emo to people who were going to need it. That record would become entwined with 9/11 as the title was stripped away in the wake of that day, and while the parallels are far from exact, the band's newfound stature, combined with the trauma of that event, were not altogether foreign from the mindset that gave rise to "Pinkerton".

Both albums deal with youth, and the confusion between love and lust when the concepts haven't solidified to a point we can understand. The difference is in attitude. Rivers felt sorry for himself on "Pinkerton", blaming everyone other than himself for his predicament. "Futures", on the other hand, has no blame to be cast. Jim Adkins realizes in his lyrics that bad situations sometimes happen no matter what we intend, and holding on to whatever good we can find in the moment is sometimes the best we can do.

The songs on "Futures" are heavier than anything on "Pinkerton", both emotionally and sonically. The production of the record is immaculate, the guitars thundering, and Adkins' voice soaring with the clarity to reveal every ounce of pain he's putting into the performance. The heavy songs are powerful, bristling with angsty energy and propulsive hooks, while the softer songs swell with emotion, feeling as soft as the velvet lining for our emotional caskets. Adkins songs admit the drugs and women involved aren't the long-term answer to happiness, but they get him through this day to the next, so they are as important as the love he hopes to find one day.

When he implores at the end of the record, "don't take away the ending, the one thing that stays mine", it is both the optimistic turn telling us we can still control our story, and ultimately the most depressing thought we can have. The only thing we control is tomorrow, because we can never escape the past.

Reaching a verdict here is easy. "Pinkerton" was a vitally important record to me, as it was for so many others, but the years have not been kind to it. It's difficult to look back with any degree of fondness on a record that introduced so many toxic thoughts to impressionable listeners who weren't ready or able to wall themselves off from the messages. "Pinkerton" should be disqualified on that basis alone, but I don't need to do that. "Futures" is a record that grows deeper and more nuanced the more it's listened to. It's a healthier way of processing the issues involved in coming of age, without the biter aftertaste that doesn't let us forget what progress has been made. But this isn't just about lyrics. "Futures" is more compelling as a musical experience. It has more power, more shade and color, and just as much that will etch itself into your memory. Jimmy Eat World essentially took a flawed album, and made a better version of it in every way. Like "Pinkerton", "Futures" is often underrated and underappreciated, but the true fans know what a monumental record it is.

The Winner: "Futures", in each and every way.

Album Vs Album: Badmotorfinger Vs Nevermind

For as much as grunge was about darkness and misery, at least anecdotally, few genres have burned brighter than it did for that brief period in the 90s. Grunge did not last long, but its influence continues to be felt to this very day. The mainstay grunge bands have become treasured members of the classic rock fraternity, while their progeny dominate the charts still. It's hard to turn on modern rock radio without hearing songs imbued with the sound and spirit of Seattle.

But for all that grunge is perceived to be, the actual grunge bands were not those things. Alice In Chains was a metal version of CSNY, Pearl Jam was a dirty classic rock band, Soundgarden was a group of bluesy oddballs, and Nirvana was a pop band filtered through punk angst. To find the actual 'grunge' sound, you need to look to the bands that took influence from the originators, because it's in them you will hear the sound of flannel pouring through your speakers. It would later get corrupted by bands like Nickelback and the entire 'post-grunge' wave, but given how amorphis grunge really was, the inverted course of evolution is an intriguing bit of metal biology.

Grunge had two men who could be called the voice of their generation. In the literal sense of the term, that was Chris Cornell, the superbly talented singer whose voice could shatter glass as well as break hearts. His influence is harder to hear because of the difficulty in taking up his style, but his legacy endures as one of the most talented belters of his generation. In the metaphorical sense of the term, it was Kurt Cobain, the tortured soul whose non-sensical poetry and raspy yelling was the very embodiment of disaffected youth. It didn't matter if "Smells Like Teen Spirit" said nothing, because to millions it said everything.

Badmotorfinger: Soundgarden's third album broke them into the public consciousness. Quickly going platinum, Soundgarden not only helped push the grunge movement forward, but expanded its possibilities. Playing with altered tunings, advanced chords, and unusual time signatures, Soundgarden were a band of artists always looking for a new twist on how to spread their message. Going off the beaten path did not stop the album from success, as both "Rusty Cage" and "Jesus Christ Pose" became hits, and have been added to the rotation of classic rock radio. Soundgarden's appeal and legacy have endured, rising in esteem as both the thinking-man's grunge band, but also the most underrated of the big names at the time. History is correcting the record.

Nevermind: The album that launched grunge as a phenomenon, "Nevermind" is one of those albums that defines time itself. For rock fans, there was before "Nevermind" and after it. The album's impact was immediate, and immense. As "Smells Like Teen Spirit", "Lithium", "Come As You Are", and "In Bloom" became massive hits, Nirvana's popularity swept aside an entire generation of stale and played-out 80s rock. Hair bands were suddenly gone, instead chasing the trend of flannel and grime. A new paradigm for a new age was written, and their influence has been readily apparent in a wave of singers who tried (and failed) to master the art of screaming in key. They either lacked the skill, or the genuine anguish, to do what Kurt Cobain had done. Instead, we got bands like Puddle Of Mudd, who blended all the grunge bands together, showing that a rainbow when condensed turns into soupy, brown mud.

D.M's Pick: What we've stumbled into here is one of the great musical "what ifs?" of our generation.  Originally slated to be released the same day as "Nevermind" on September 24th, 1991, "Badmotorfinger" was slid back two weeks to October 8th due to what A&M Records called 'production issues.'  In the intervening period, Nirvana conquered the world, and oh, by the way, Red Hot Chili Peppers released "Blood Sugar Sex Magik" on the 24th, mopping up anybody that Nirvana had left behind.  "Badmotorfinger" was so badly overrun in the tidal wave of Nirvana's arrival on the main stage that Soundgarden wouldn't truly become household names until they made a second definitive statement with "Superunknown."

And so one can't help but wonder what could have been - what if A&M had stuck to the original release date and "Badmotorfinger" had been given an equal shot to make its mark?  In the aftermath of both albums, musicians, both casual and professional, will generally cede that Soundgarden is the artistically superior band, and that "Badmotorfinger" is, musically, a better album.  

Therefore, I'm backing "Badmotorfinger" here.  And now I'm going to spend a paragraph where it seems like I'm making the case for Nirvana.  Bear with me.

Ultimately, the benefit of "Badmotorfinger" keeping its original release date would have allowed that album to not start with such an obvious handicap, but I don't know that the outcome would have been appreciably altered.  "Nevermind" had captured the spirit of disaffected youth that was exploding as the Cold War closed, and having contained that particular caustic lightning in a bottle, exploded into the hearts and minds of listeners everywhere in a way that Soundgarden never truly would.  Nirvana spoke in plain English, without metaphor or riddle, and that meant something to a generation that was exhausted with double talk both from immediate authority figures and from their elected (or appointed) leaders.  By contrast, the first single off of "Badmotorfinger" was "Jesus Christ Pose," a song that Soundgarden admitted was purposefully ambiguous.  Not to mention that there's a musical density to that song which defies the convention of the era.  Plus, I offer this as empirical evidence - Pearl Jam's "Ten" was released roughly a month before "Nevermind," and while no one would call "Ten" a flop, it was also buried under the avalanche of "Nevermind."  "Nevermind" became the popular epithet for grunge music as a whole.

But the question is not about which is the more popular record - for Nirvana wins that argument with ease.  After all, they dethroned Michael Jackson's "Dangerous" as the #1 album on the charts, which is unthinkable in retrospect.  We are talking about which is the best record.  And there, my friend, "Badmotorfinger" shines.  Or sludges, as the case may be.

You mentioned the voices in the interim.  Ask yourself the question - could Kurt Cobain hold a candle to Chris Cornell?  The question should always be asked thusly; could Cornell have done vocals for "Smells Like Teen Spirit?" He would have had to adjust his style, but the answer is yes.  Cornell's vocal understanding and musical knowledge would have made for a fairly easy transition (one need only listen to his cover of "Billie Jean" for a rough approximation of what it might have sounded like.)  Now, could Cobain have replicated the necessary range and pained vitriol of "Slaves & Bulldozers"?  I say no.  "Slaves & Bulldozers" can in many ways be regarded as his pinnacle performance, the most consistently powerful delivery he ever mustered.  It is, essentially, Soundgarden's "Man in the Box," a song that could not be replicated properly by any contemporary vocalist, and Cornell, unlike that seminal Alice in Chains single, performed the entire thing as one man.  No one, be it Cobain or Staley or Vedder or that too-often overlooked grunge crooner, Mark Lanegan, could have performed the song with the same aplomb.

And it's going to sound like I'm bagging Cobain here, and I don't mean to, but it must be said for the purpose of the conversation - Kim Thayil is the superior guitar player.  As a youth, I remember thinking that his guitar sounded anguished, as though it were being strangled, or run past its limits.  Which doesn't sound like a complement, but speaks to the ability of Thayil to work unorthodox sounds and styles into music that was destined to still be popular enough to certify platinum.  As a music listening public, that wouldn't really happen again until Tom Morello with Rage Against the Machine.  Thayil sets so much of the pace of "Badmotorfinger," from the opening, probing strains of "Rusty Cage," to the tortured, full-bore opening of "New Damage."  Thayil would usher us into a Drop D paradise from which whole genres would be born.

Lastly, I want to address the album's tone - as I mentioned above, Nirvana captured the spirit of a moment, and I have some inkling that you may talk about them writing catchier, more accessible, pop-bred songs.  Which is all true.  Pop music has a tendency to fade, however.  What Soundgarden created, with depth and harmony and a brooding, shambling pace, still lives at the roots of many bands active in the modern era.  Those (fresh) tendrils still grip the core of heavy music that they helped shape.  Nirvana raged brightly against ennui, and Alice in Chains took us through the hell of addiction, but Soundgarden explored the unclean corners of an unquiet mind, which would become the raison d'etre for alternative and heavy music for the next three decades.  From a mainstream standpoint, that began with "Badmotorfinger."

"Badmotorfinger" remains a staple of musicians around the globe.  Buzz Osbourne continues to cite it as one of his favorites.  While the sales numbers may not match, "Badmotorfinger" retains every bit the legacy of "Nevermind."  And there's not one bad song on it.

Chris C's Pick: I hate to be a basic kind of guy, but I have to go with "Nevermind", despite your extolling the virtues of Soundgarden to me. I will preface my comments with this; I will not contest that Soundgarden is the more influential band. Because they did something that was not just unique, but multi-faceted, they gave more opportunities for followers to pick up their mantle. Practically every rock band who isn't tracing their direct sound to the 70s or 80s is derived from Soundgarden directly. Their impact is as much about the ripples as it is the stone breaking the water's surface. Their ability to blend metallic heaviness, bluesy groove, and Cornell's wailing vocals transcends time.

Nirvana was a simpler band, and that is both why their influence doesn't reach as deep, but also why I end up siding with them in this instance. Kurt Cobain wrote pop songs that he then gussied up with ugly distortion and a self-destructive attitude. He used earworms as a vehicle to infect the listeners, to try to point them toward music he himself would have said was better than his own. Writing those kinds of irresistible songs is so hard, it's not a mystery why few bands have ever sounded like Nirvana and become big.

So what we have here is, in essence, a choice between skin and bone. Nirvana's music isn't as deep, but it spreads out further. Nirvana's music isn't as strong, but we can write our own stories upon it. I completely understand why people would prefer Soundgarden, and there's part of me that would like to go down that road as well, but at heart I am a lapsed pop fan. My entire approach to music starts with pop, and adds in rock, metal, and whatever else. That's exactly what Cobain did, dissecting pop hits to turn his songs into a formula destined to work on people like me. I was not, and still am not, cool enough to match Cornell's swagger or confidence. Cobain was a dweeb, and his songs express the reality of being a music nerd who wanted to be cooler than he really was. I admire the way he used the limitations of the band, both the three-piece nature and his own skills, to focus on making the most of every element. The riff of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is as simple as it gets, which is the entire point. You could feel everything he sang because there wasn't as much surrounding him to get in the way.

When I listen to music, I want to hear songs that resonate with me, of course, but whether they do or not they must hook me. Not just the singles, but also "Breed", "On A Plane", and even "Polly" do that more than any Soundgarden song does. That doesn't make them better, just easier to digest. Soundgarden is a band you need to love before you understand everything they do. Nirvana is a band you understand long before you love, if you love them. They are the entry point to a whole movement, and perhaps the entirety of this comes down to the fact I was not a disaffected youth of that kind when either of these albums came out. I was more melancholy than angry, more reflective than angsty. I did not need the power of Soundgarden to disperse the ugly energy inside me. I did, however, need the shiny overtones of Nirvana learn how to seem like everyone else.

For all of that, my pick is "Nevermind".

Verdict: Even though we are split on the decision, I feel like we're actually agreeing on the verdict. Soundgarden was by far the more accomplished band, and they are the one who falls into that discsussion we usually hear about The Velvet Underground; fewer people heard them, but all of them started bands of their own. Anyone who wants to find out what musical talent was hidden under the aesthetic of grunge would be best served to explore Soundgarden's catalog. They, of the bands, were the closest to carrying on the power of Led Zeppelin into their generation.

Nirvana's music spoke to people at a certain time, but of course as we have moved beyond our youths that music has become less relevant to our own lives. Nirvana was who we were, while Soundgarden was who we were trying to become. Perhaps the only difference here is how close we have come to making it there.

Album Vs Album: Springsteen Edition

The Boss. We rag on him every year around here, but it's hard to deny the stature Bruce Springsteen enjoys in the pantheon of American rock music. Few artists are as enduring as Springsteen; for his longevity, for his marathon concerts, and for his both popular and critical acclaim. Whether you like the guy and his music or not, it's hard to have avoided him altogether.

Like just about any legacy artist, there is one album that stands out above all others when we talk about his career; "Born To Run". His breakthrough hit record has spent over forty years as a cultural touchstone, as a soundtrack to the youth and now middle-age of his fans, and as one of the greatest albums of all time, if you listen to the critical consensus. But is it? Let's investigate.

"Born To Run": It's easy to see why this album is held up as the gold standard of Springsteen's vision of America, and why it remains beloved. Opening with "Thunder Road", the piano figure and Springsteen's voice full of 'character', was opening the world up to a new vision of cinematic rock n roll. He painted stories with his lyrics, telling the tales of the struggling middle class trying to get by in a world designed to crush them. In a song without a chorus, Springsteen kept every second as important as the next, even giving fans a mystery over what Mary's dress was doing that kept people engaged for decades. The title track emerged as one of the most enduring classic rock anthems of all time, where lyrics that talked of "suicide machines" and called the characters "tramps" became a rallying cry of optimism for a generation looking to escape the Vietnam/Nixon malaise. Then there is "Jungleland", one of the first mainstream rock epics, which may have single-handedly made the saxophone an integral part of the rock pantheon. Taken as a whole, the album expanded the possibilities of rock n roll, painting with both broad strokes and realistic detail. It was a swing for the fences, and it connected.

"Darkness On The Edge Of Town": Following up the epic statement of hope, Springsteen turned his focus inward, and concentrated on the shadows that crept in from all corners, threatening to choke that optimism. This record kept the bright and lively production choices, but tore into society for all its shortcomings. From the opening of "Badlands", through the closing title track, there are few moments of happiness to be found. Even when he sings of believing in "The Promised Land", it comes in the form of the kind of belief necessary to endure the hardships of life. In the world of this album, the streets are on fire, the town is dark, and the wasteland sits at the city limits. Even Adam is taken to task, for his son being the world's first murderer, and questioning if parenting ruined humanity from the very start.

Putting the albums side-by-side, we get a yin-and-yang. One is the sun shining bright in the sky, while the other is the moon reflecting a silvery and mildewed facsimile of that light. Which is the more important album in rock history is undeniable. Which is the better record is real question, and I don't think it's much of a competition.

"Darkness On The Edge Of Town" is the record that should be Bruce Springsteen's legacy, and the record we should be celebrating. Stacked up song-for-song, it's a stronger, more compelling record in every sense. "Thunder Road" is a beautiful song, but "Badlands" is every bit the cinematic opening song, but with more passion and a more satisfying compositional structure. "Born To Run" is the most classic of anthems, but "The Promised Land" not only has the stronger and more satisfying hook for a communal experience at a concert, but it is a song about resilience and the power of the human spirit, rather than the power of an engine as a weak metaphor. It's a healthier way of dealing with our flaws and faults. "Born To Run" almost comes across childish in this context.

There is more to consider than just that, however. "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" is a repetitive rocker, as is "Adam Raised A Cain", but it never seethes with the same kind of venom to show the cyclical form is akin to a repeated stabbing, to overkill. Despite being the brighter album, "Born To Run" is less energetic, and simply less fun. "She's The One" and "Meeting Across The River" are inconsequential filler meant to bridge (pun intended) from one epic tent-pole to the next. They feel that way too. "Prove It All Night", on the other hand, is also a flimsy song intended to bide our time until we get to our destination, but it has some spark, and it doesn't drag along like a songwriter allergic to having a little bit of fun. Even the most morose moments, like "Racing In The Street", are melancholy with a melody, letting the sadness echo in our heads in a way we can't escape. That is far more haunting than any memory I've ever had of "Born To Run".

My verdict is clear, and resolute. "Darkness On The Edge Of Town" is far and away the better record, doing everything "Born To Run" was aiming for, but with more sustained success and excellence. "Born To Run" is remembered more fondly because it had the hit single, and the crowd favorite, but it doesn't have the same depth, either in the track listing or in the themes and lyrics. To use the American pastime as our final metaphor, "Born To Run" is a singles hitter that gets on base in front of the big bats, while "Darkness On The Edge Of Town" is the clean-up hitter bringing everyone home.

Winner: "Darkness On The Edge Of Town"