The 500 - #129 - Remain In Light - Talking Heads

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #129
Album Title: Remain In Light
Artist: Talking Heads
Genre: New Wave, Art Rock, Funk Rock, Post Punk, World Beat
Recorded: Compass Point, Nassau, Bahamas, Sigma Sound, New York City, USA
Released: October, 1980
My age at release: 15
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #39, rising 90 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Once In A Lifetime

Back in Grade 11, I made one of the smartest moves of my high school career, signing up for a course called History Through the Arts. It was taught by an educator who would become one of my favourites, Mr. Richard Woods. He was a teacher who brought passion, humour and creativity to every lesson, using a carousel-style slide projector to display photographs on the classroom screen as he shared stories about each one. 

Ai created image of Mr. Woods teaching our class in 1981.

His class was like a time machine, guiding students through prehistoric cave paintings all the way to the splendor of the Renaissance. And thanks to Mr. Woods, I can still tell a Doric column from an Ionic or Corinthian one, in case you're looking for a ringer on your pub trivia team. Here's a handy mnemonic. (D)oric - (d)ull and plain, (I)onic - (i)ntricate and scrolly, (C)orinthian - (c)omplex and leafy.

A few weeks into the course, Mr. Woods let us know that we could sign up for a trip to Italy during March Break, with him as our chaperone and tour guide. We would depart from London, Ontario on the last day of school, fly to Italy -- by way of Belgrade, Yugoslavia -- and then spend  eight nights visiting Rome, Florence, Pompeii and Capri, before heading back home. Flights, accommodations, buses and meals were included for a paltry $1,100. My parents were willing to split the cost with me –  my part time job as a custodian at a local recreation centre making my share challenging but achievable.

Byron Optimist Centre, London, Ontario.

The trip was a whirlwind. Mr. Woods, seasoned from shepherding other classes through this adventure, crafted an itinerary that struck the perfect balance. There was enough structure to hit the must-see art, historical and architectural masterpieces, but plenty of breathing room for my cohort of teenagers to wander and feel the essence of Italy.

Ai image of 80s teens looking across Vatican City.

Day three started way too early. We stumbled into the hotel lobby at dawn, bleary-eyed and clutching whatever caffeine we could find, ready to board a bus for Florence -- a three-hour journey northwest from Rome. The first stretch was quiet, just the sound of yawns and the occasional sigh of regret for staying up too late, and consuming wine (a legal option for us).

Someone unearthed a cassette tape and slotted it into the bus stereo. Just one tape. I still have no idea who brought it or why, but it was Remain In Light by Talking Heads. And so, for the next two hours, we listened to the world beat, afro-funk, new wave of David Byrne and company...on repeat. Nobody complained. Nobody switched it off. I suppose, we all just silently accepted that this remarkable record would be forever linked in our memories as the trip of a lifetime. 

The highway trip from Rome to Florence.

Remain in Light was the fourth studio album by New York art-rock pioneers Talking Heads. Teaming up with producer Brian Eno, the band drew heavy inspiration from Nigerian afrobeat legend Fela Kuti, layering polyrhythms, looping grooves, and electronic textures to create something groundbreaking. Lead singer David Byrne famously broke through a bout of writer’s block by embracing a stream-of-consciousness approach to lyrics. He also pulled ideas from the hip hop scene around him in New York and African political literature. The result? A record that didn’t just set a new standard for recording, it sounded like nothing else on Earth.

Talking Heads in 1980 (l-r) David Byrne, Chris Frantz,
Tina Weymouth, Jerry Harrison.

Although I was a 16-year-old hard rock devotee when I first heard the album...on repeat...half a dozen times...I knew instantly it was something different and important. From the hip-hop-inspired grooves of Crosseyed and Painless to the sing-along magic (and existential malaise) of Once in a Lifetime, Remain in Light demanded my attention.

Album jacket for Once In A Lifetime single release.

Despite spending more than a week in Italy, I came home with only one photograph. I hadn’t brought a camera, but a trip-mate snapped a shot for me of the bronze statue of Perseus with the Head of Medusa by Benvenuto Cellini. The masterpiece stands proudly in the Loggia dei Lanzi in Florence. While it is the only personal picture I have of an incredible teen-age experience, my recollections are vivid, linked as they are to the soundtrack of the Talking Heads. Like Perseus defeating a mythical gorgon, the New York art quartet were at the peak of their powers.

The only shot I can find from my trip.

Thanks for the memories, Mr. Woods. As an educator myself, I now understand the commitment you made to make your lessons so engaging...not to mention, giving up your March Break to spend it with a bunch of, sometimes drunk, teenagers.

The 500 - #130 - Marquee Moon - Television

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #130
Album Title: Marquee Moon
Artist: Television
Genre: Art Punk, Rock, New Wave, Garage Rock
Recorded: A & R Recording Studios, New York City, New York
Released: February, 1977
My age at release: 11
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #107, rising 23 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Marquee Moon

Back in January, 2019, when I committed to this long, winding blogging journey through Rolling Stone magazine's The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, I did what any curious music lover would do: I skimmed through the entire list to see whether some of my personal favourites had earned a place, and I was especially eager to find out what cracked the Top 20.

As I made my way through the rankings, I felt a spark of excitement each time I spotted a beloved record. There was Rage Against the Machine’s explosive debut and Peter Gabriel’s visionary record, So. Then. I spotted Elton John’s lavish, autobiographical masterpiece, Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, and the genre-bending, theatrical opulence of A Night At The Opera from Queen. So eager was I to work through the list that many of these future blog posts were mapped out in my head months in advance.

Album jackets for four of my favourite records on The 500 list.

However, just as thrilling were the albums I didn’t know -- the ones that were destined to become new obsessions. These included Look-Ka Py Py by The Meters, The Magnetic Fields’ 69 Love Songs, Manu Chao’s Próxima Estación: Esperanza, and Stankonia from OutKast. These four musical revelations, as well as many others, regularly earn a spot on my weekend playlists.

Album jackets for four, of many, new records I have discovered.

And then there was Marquee Moon, the debut album from Television, legends of the 1970s New York rock scene. Its reputation loomed large, and it had been sitting on my “I really should listen to this” list for years. Somehow, I let opportunities slip by. Last week, I seized the chance, and it delivered in spades. Marquee Moon not only lived up to its towering legacy; it reminded me exactly why I started this project in the first place.

Television are (l-r) Billy Ficca, Richard Lloyd, Tom Verlaine & Fred Smith

Back in 1973, two high school chums from Delaware, Tom Verlaine and Richard Hell, landed in New York City with big dreams and a couple of guitars. Before Television, they were a proto-punk/garage rock band called The Neon Boys, featuring Verlaine on vocals and guitar, Hell on bass, and Billy Ficca pounding the drums.

Album jacket for a single's release by The Neon Boys.

In March, 1973, guitarist Richard Lloyd was added and with him came the name Television, which I've recently learned was a nifty pun on the phrase "tell a vision". The group played their first gig as Television at The Townhouse Theatre, an 88-seat venue in midtown Manhattan. By 1975, Hell was out of the group and Fred Smith replaced him on bass. The group had secured a residency at the famed Bowery dive bar, CBGB's where they performed multiple sets, several nights a week, sharing the stage with other rising acts (also on The 500 list) including Patti Smith (#44), Blondie (#140), The New York Dolls (#215) The Modern Lovers (#381).

On stage at CBGB's Club in the Bowery area of Manhattan.

It is difficult to summarize Television's sound. They are often dubbed a garage band or post punk act. However, those descriptions are limited.  Unlike the blunt-force punk sound that was exploding  around them, Television played with more precision, favouring clean tones, intricate interplay, and a touch of jazz cool. It has been described as 'punk in attitude, but not in sound'. Verlaine and Lloyd didn’t just play riffs, they wove musical phrases like a conversation. Instead of power chords and distortion, they used clean tones, intricate voicings, and melodic tension, creating something radically different.

Verlaine, Lloyd and Smith on stage creating their signature guitar sound.

Marquee Moon landed like a lightning strike and was applauded by critics and revered by musicians. It was eight tracks of angular beauty that rewrote the rules for what a guitar band could be. The ten-minute title track absolutely wowed me and I couldn't wait to share it with my wife on our weekend drive to the cottage. At a time when many bands were chasing speed and aggression on their guitars, Verlaine and Lloyd were exploring clarity and, like jazz musicians before them, the spaces in between the notes.

Album jacket for Television's second release, Adventure.

Television lasted for only one more year, disbanding over creative differences in 1978 following the release of their second record, Adventure. They reunited in 1991 for a third, self-titled release. This reconnection was short lived, but their influence and impact were already monumental. Legendary acts scattered across The 500 list cite Television as an influence including REM, Sonic Youth, The Strokes, Echo and The Bunnymen, The Pixies, U2, Wilco, Joy Division and The Red Hot Chili Peppers. In the end, they truly "told a vision", and the world perked up and listened. I sure did.

The 500 - #131 - Paranoid - Black Sabbath

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #131
Album Title: Paranoid
Artist: Black Sabbath
Genre: Heavy Metal
Recorded: Regent Sound and Island Studios, London, U.K.
Released: September, 1970
My age at release: 5
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #139, dropping 8 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: War Pigs/Luke's Wall

In early 1979, Black Sabbath (vocalist Ozzy Osbourne, guitarist Tony Iommi, bassist Geezer Butler, and drummer Bill Ward) retreated to a sprawling Bel Air mansion in Los Angeles to write their ninth studio album. It was a disaster.

Sabbath were coming off a grueling seven-month world tour supporting Never Say Die!, an album that had received a lukewarm response from critics and fans alike. Heavy drinking and drug use had taken a toll on the band, and the effects were becoming increasingly visible. On stage, the once-dominant pioneers of heavy metal appeared tired and worn down, a stark contrast to the rising wave of youthful, high-energy rock acts, such as Van Halen, AC/DC, and Def Leppard, who were injecting fresh vitality into the genre.

Never Say Die! Black Sabbath's eighth studio record.

The Bel Air sessions quickly unraveled. The band’s substance abuse continued unabated but, according to guitarist Iommi, "Ozzy was on a different level.” While the group tried to spark creativity through loose jam sessions, Osbourne showed little interest and often refused to sing. Before long, rehearsals were abandoned entirely, replaced by all-night parties and days spent sleeping off hangovers. In Steven Rosen’s 1996 book ,The Story of Black Sabbath, drummer Bill Ward reflected on the chaos: “Alcohol was definitely one of the most damaging things to Black Sabbath. We were destined to destroy each other. The band was toxic -- very toxic.” Eventually, the situation became untenable and the decision was made to fire Osbourne and search for a new vocalist.

About the same time,I began my Black Sabbath fandom. A friend loaned me his copy of Sabotage, the band’s sixth album, which I smuggled home under a ski jacket. I liked it, but it didn’t blow me away. That moment came a few months later, in April,1980, when Sabbath released Heaven and Hell. This was the record they had hoped to create during those chaotic Bel Air sessions a year earlier, but instead it was recorded in Miami with a new voice at the helm. Ronnie James Dio was a powerhouse American metal singer who previously fronted the rock groups Elf and Rainbow. The result was a revitalized sound that marked a bold new chapter for the band. I purchased a copy on cassette shortly after its release and wore it down with repeated plays that summer. It is still one of my favourite Sabbath records.

Black Sabbath (1980), (l-r) Bill Ward, Ronnie James Dio, Tony 
Iommi and Geezer Butler.

There was a silver lining for fans like me when the original Black Sabbath lineup collapsed...it meant more music. In the autumn of 1980, Ozzy Osbourne released his debut solo album, Blizzard of Ozz. The Birmingham-born singer had managed to regain enough focus to assemble a team of gifted musicians and songwriters, recording the album in Monmouth, Wales. The result was a stunning record that would later be ranked #9 on Rolling Stone Magazine’s 2017 list of the 100 Greatest Heavy Metal Albums of All Time. For fans, the breakup was almost a bonus, while Sabbath forged ahead with Ronnie James Dio on Heaven and Hell, Ozzy launched a new era of his own, giving listeners twice the material to celebrate. From my perspective, immune to the events that led to it, the break-up of Sabbath was a net positive.

Blizzard Of Ozz, the debut record from Ozzy Osbourne.

Similar instances of the so-called "Split Effect" or "Creative Divergence" that affected other bands have resulted in some of my favourite music:

• Peter Gabriel’s exit from Genesis turned out to be a creative windfall for fans, as both camps went on to release multiple acclaimed records.
• When Fish (born Derek Dick) parted ways with neo-prog band Marillion in 1988, fans were treated to a creative explosion from both sides. Marillion pressed forward with a new vocalist, Steve Hogarth, while Fish had a successful solo career.
• The departure of David Lee Roth from Van Halen in 1985 was another net positive for me. Roth launched a flamboyant solo career, while Van Halen reinvented themselves with Sammy Hagar at the mic. The split gave listeners two distinct flavors of hard rock. You could opt for Roth’s swaggering, high-energy showmanship or Van Halen’s more polished, melodic approach under Hagar. I chose to enjoy both the same way a kid scoops two different flavours of ice cream on a single waffle cone

The two lead singers with Van Halen in the 70s' & 80s. 
David Lee Roth (left) and Sammy Hagar.

Black Sabbath’s Paranoid hit shelves in September, 1970, just seven months after their self-titled debut, a testament to the band’s creative momentum at the time. It was a period of focus and productivity. Their rehearsals were tight and studio time was used efficiently.

As an up-and-coming act, their excesses hadn’t yet derailed their creative process. In fact, the album’s iconic title track was famously written and recorded in about two hours. Originally, the record was set to be called War Pigs, after its blistering opening track, a scathing critique of the Vietnam War, which was raging at the time. Ultimately, the band opted for Paranoid, a name that would become synonymous with heavy metal history. That hastily written track would become the group's only Top Ten single. Clearly, they were firing on all cylinders in 1970.

1976 reissue of Paranoid single on picture disc.

Ronnie James Dio continued as Black Sabbath’s frontman for three records, bringing a new lyrical depth and operatic power to the band. At the same time, Dio launched a stellar solo career. For fans like me, the ’80s felt like triple the output -- Sabbath, Ozzy, and Dio records seemingly dropping every few months.

Ronnie James Dio second studio record -- Last In Line (1984).

During its 55-year history, Black Sabbath recruited several other singers, including former Deep Purple legends Ian Gillan and later Glenn Hughes. Each lineup brought its own flavour, from Gillan’s raw, blues tinged energy on Born Again to Hughes’ soulful touch on Seventh Star. Granted, many will argue that Seventh Star was a Sabbath record in name only because Tony Iommi was the last of the original members to feature on it. Meanwhile, Ozzy Osbourne carved out a wildly successful solo career, yet he never fully severed ties with Sabbath, reuniting for tours and albums that kept the early magic alive.

Seventh Star album jacket.

The most recent, and final, reunion came this past summer with the Back to the Beginning concert, a celebration of Sabbath’s legacy that closed a monumental chapter in rock history. The 10-hour benefit show, held at the Villa Park Football Stadium in the band's hometown of Birmingham, featured a who's who of rock legends performing the songs of Ozzy and Sabbath.

Ozzy, battling Parkinson’s and unable to walk, gave everything he had in a performance that was both triumphant and bittersweet. Just weeks later, the world mourned his passing, a loss that underscored how deeply his voice and presence shaped heavy metal. Black Sabbath began with Ozzy, and though others carried the torch brilliantly, it ended with him. A fitting tribute to the powerhouse of heavy metal.

Sabbath's final performance in Birmingham, July 5, 2025.

The 500 - #132 - Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack - Various Artists

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #132
Album Title: Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack
Artist: Various (Several tracks by Bee Gees)
Genre: Disco
Recorded: Multiple Studios
Released: November, 1977
My age at release: 12
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #163, dropping 31 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Disco Inferno

I didn’t exactly thrive in elementary school in the sleepy fishing and farming town of Kingsville, Ontario. Truth be told, I wasn’t a big fan of the experience. Still, I made the most of it and, looking back now, I realize there were some good moments tucked in there. Maybe I’m subconsciously ignoring the positive aspect of my four years attending Jack Miner Public School because I enjoyed my high school experience in London, Ontario, so much more.

Jack Miner Public School.

However, I had a few friends during those formative years -- ages 9-12. I also managed to land a spot on a few Grade 8 sports teams, and even played Chiz Upschlager in our school play, A Hillbilly Weddin’, the kind of script that would never get past today’s socially conscious administrators. However, in the 1970s, cultural stereotypes were fair game for pre-teen farce.

Script Jacket for A Hillbilly Weddin'.

In 1977, I was awkwardly navigating Grade 8 as the youngest kid in class, thanks to being bumped ahead after an educational stint in England earlier in the decade. Consequently, I didn’t really click with my classmates, some of whom were 18 months older than I. Indeed, most of my friends were in the Grade 7 class down the hall.

One day, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Desrocher, offered a handful of us the chance to care for the plants in the school greenhouse. I jumped at the opportunity. Any escape from the daily grind felt like a gift. On my first shift, I was paired with Lorelei, a striking brunette who was new to the school and, just like the hothouse flowers we nurtured, a crush began to bloom.

A small greenhouse, similar to the one at Jack Miner School.

Lorelei was easy to like. She was kind, friendly, relaxed, and genuinely passionate about the plants we tended. Me? Not so much. But the actor within that had secured the role of a dopey hillbilly faked the horticultural enthusiasm necessary to spend more time with her.

One afternoon, she asked if I’d be interested in volunteering with her at the John R. Park Homestead and Conservation Area in nearby Harrow. There, we’d learn about life in the 1800s at a restored Classical Revival house and its farm buildings, including one that housed a steam-powered sawmill. Once trained, we could lead weekend tours. Smitten by the idea, and Lorelei, who was now chatting with me nightly on the phone, I jumped at the chance. Much to the surprise of my neighbourhood chums, I traded my beloved street hockey games for history lessons and her company.

The John R, Park Homestead and Conservation Area still exists. See link to website above.

The other thing Lorelei adored was the soundtrack to the 1977 blockbuster hit film, Saturday Night Fever. This time, I didn't have to fake that fandom with her, I knew the tracks well. Even if my parents hadn't owned a copy of the double record, the songs were inescapable on radio in the autumn of 1977 and spring of 1978. Five songs from the disco record had hit the top 10 in Canada. In fact the third song, Night Fever, held the number one spot for five weeks.

I desperately wanted to see the movie, but there wasn’t a theatre in our small town, and persuading my parents to drive me to the nearest city, Windsor, to see an R-rated film loaded with profanity, nudity, and violence was a non-starter. So I improvised. I managed to track down a copy of the novelization, which I naïvely assumed was the original source material. It turned out to be far more salacious than I expected...a real eye-opener for my young, impressionable mind and a crash course in the complexities of adulthood.

The novelization of Saturday
Night Fever that I owned? or borrowed?

My love for Lorelei went unrequited. I never mustered up the courage to ask her out. I am not sure what I would have done if she had said "yes"...take her to the local arcade and sub-shoppe with babysitting money, I suppose. The next year, she outgrew all of her interests...plants, the John Park Homestead, Saturday Night Fever and hanging out with me. In high school she started dating a guy with a car. How was this 13-year-old pimply faced kid supposed to compete with that? Still, she remained kind, and would say "hi" to me in the hallways. My first dalliance with infatuation was over.

Listening to the Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack this week, especially the deep cuts, was a delightful blast from my past and helped me remember that romantically tinged chapter in my life. I still love this record and, now that I think about it, my time at Jack Miner Public School wasn't all that bad. Thanks, Lorelei, wherever you are.