The 500 - #98 - This Year's Model - Elvis Costello & The Attractions

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: #98

Album Title: This Year's Model

Artist: Elvis Costello and The Attractions

Genre: Pop Punk, New Wave, Power Pop, Garage Punk

Recorded: Eden Studios, London, England

Released: March, 1978

My age at release: 12

How familiar was I with it before this week: Somewhat

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #121 - dropping 23 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: This Year's Girl

"I want you." Three simple words. Depending on who's saying them, "I want you" can sound romantic, desperate, manipulative, or terrifying. 

Yet, the words "I want you" echo through the history of popular music. From The Beatles' I Want You (She's So Heavy) in 1969 to Cody Johnson's I Want You in 2026, artists across genres and generations have built entire songs around that declaration. A quick search reveals a surprisingly long list of titles that either use the phrase directly or place it at the heart of the song's message, including four records on The 500

Every week as I work my way through a different record on Rolling Stone Magazine's list of The 500 Greatest Albums, I discover an album with lyrics that feel surprisingly current. This week that album is Elvis Costello's This Year's Model. Released in 1978, it arrived at a fascinating moment in popular music when the anger and urgency of punk began rubbing shoulders with the bright, buoyant pop energy of new wave. As I found out, the debate surrounding its lyrics feels right at home in 2026.

The Attractions (l-r) Steve Nieve, Costello, Bruce Thomas, Pete
Thomas (no relation).

Some critics have argued that Costello's lyrics portray women as little more than prizes, possessions, or objects of male desire. Costello has long pushed back against this premise. Discussing the second album track, This Year's Girl, he argued that the song's real subject is not women themselves but the way men look at them. As he put it: "Everything in the song is about the way men see women and what they desire from them." In Costello's view, the song is less an expression of misogyny than a critique of the unrealistic fantasies and expectations that shape attraction in the first place.

This Year's Girl single release.

Part of the debate may stem from a common assumption that the narrator of a song speaks directly for the songwriter. Yet, as I often share with my middle school students, poets and songwriters, like novelists and playwrights, often write from the perspective of characters whose beliefs and actions they do not personally endorse. Many of the men who populate This Year's Model are insecure, jealous, judgmental, and obsessive. The question listeners have wrestled with for nearly 50 years is whether Costello is giving voice to those attitudes or exposing them. His answer has consistently been the latter.

Poring over the lyrics of This Year's Model, immersed in the album's long history, it was this debate, and Costello's thoughtful response to it, that resonated the most. Modern audiences are still wrestling with many of the same issues from half a century ago. Whether in a 1978 new wave album or the 2025 thriller Obsession, which my wife and I recently watched, we're often drawn to stories that ask uncomfortable questions: Where does affection end and obsession begin? At what point does attraction stop being about another person and start becoming a projection of our own wants, needs, and desires?

Poster for Obsession.

Commentators, such as New York University professor and podcaster Scott Galloway, have pointed to a growing crisis of connection among young men. He has argued that many are dating less, socializing less, and increasingly turning to screens rather than real-world relationships. At the same time, dating apps can create the perception that a small number of highly desirable people receive the majority of attention, leaving others feeling invisible or rejected.  

The Lost Boys Podcast, on which hosts Galloway and Scaramucci
explore practical ways for young men to eschew the rhetoric 
of toxic masculine / Manosphere influencers to build resilience
purpose and success.

Most young men do not respond to the manosphere frustrations in unhealthy ways, of course. But together with the rise of online "incel" communities, force-fed negativism directed at males can, and sometimes does, result in loneliness hardening into resentment, and resentment into distorted views of relationships. In that light, both This Year's Model and Obsession are important cultural commentaries. They remind us that the danger isn't desire itself; it's what happens when another person stops being a person and becomes an object onto which fantasies, expectations and disappointments are projected.

Earlier, I mentioned how three simple words, "I Want You", can mean so many different things. Eight years after This Year's Model,  Costello challenged his listeners to confront toxic romantic fixations with the song I Want You. The track, from his 1986 album Blood and Chocolate dives even deeper, turning a familiar expression of affection into a haunting study of obsession and possessiveness.

Album cover for Blood and Chocolate (1986)

I believe that we need to be mindful of these dark poetic portrayals of obsession, jealousy and misguided desire to illustrate that love is not supposed to consume us. By showing relationships at their most unhealthy and destructive, songs, films and stories can help us appreciate the qualities that make love worth pursuing in the first place: trust, respect, honesty, and genuine connection.

Perhaps the ultimate value of Costello's darkest songs is not that they celebrate undesirable impulses, but that they illuminate them, allowing us to choose something better.

The 500 - #106 - Rocket To Russia - The Ramones

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: #106

Album Title: Rocket To Russia

Artist: The Ramones

Genre: Punk, Surf Rock, Pop Rock

Recorded: Media Sound and Sundragon Studios, New York City, U.S.A.

Released: November, 1977

My age at release: 12, but my guest blogger was not born

How familiar was I with it before this week: I knew some songs, but my guest blogger was new to it

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #385, dropping 279 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Cretin Hop

For the sixth consecutive year, I asked the students in my class if they would be interested in being a guest poster on my #The500Blog series. To my delight, Hadley volunteered. This year our school was reorganized in September, and my Grade 7 class became a Grade 6/7 split. Although I lost five Grade 7 students, I was delighted to welcome 10 enthusiastic Grade 6 pupils into our learning space. Among them was Hadley, an infectiously positive and funny 11-year-old who immediately shared her love of music with me. I was thrilled when she offered to write this post and is now the youngest guest-blogger I have hosted. Enjoy her discovery of Rocket To Russia, by The Ramones.

A recent picture of Hadley, with our classroom's NHL Stanley
Cup Tournament behind her.

Helloooo, world. I’m Hadley and I'm a Grade 6 student at Sir Arthur Currie Public school in London, Ontario. I am your guest blogger for this week and I chose to write about Rocket to Russia by The Ramones. The album was released in 1977 and I wasn't born yet. In fact, I wouldn't be born until 37 years later...talk about an age gap, eh? Let me tell you a little about myself! I’m 11 years and 9 months old. I play rugby, draw in my free time and listen to music!

I picked Rocket To Russia because I already was familiar with some of the Ramones' music and their high energy sound. When I was around seven my eldest sister introduced me to them, and I liked them right away. I am a fan of punk rock music.

The Ramones in 1977, (l-r) Dee Dee, Tommy, Joey and Johnny Ramone.

Originally, I was supposed to write about Aftermath by The Rolling Stones, which was on the list a few weeks ago at #109, but unfortunately I got very sick so I was unable to do it. I had picked it because I am a fan of the song, Paint It Black. 

Album cover for Aftermath by The Rolling Stones.

My favourite artists currently are Noah Kahan, Hozier and Mitski, but I'm open to any type of music. I've listened to everything from Taylor Swift to Rush, currently my favorite song is Copacabana by Barry Manilow. It's a great song and I definitely recommend it.

When I first heard the title Rocket to Russia I thought of, well, what anybody would think of, a rocket traveling to Russia. As I stated earlier I was familiar with some of the Ramones’ music but this record was new to me. I was curious and picked it as the album to write about because of that unusual title. When I listened the first time, several songs intrigued me. The first three, Cretin Hop, Rockaway Beach, and Here Today, Gone Tomorrow are catchy and energetic. However, it was the track Teenage Lobotomy that first resonated with me because the title was so surprising. However, after listening through the record a few times I settled on Cretin Hop, the first track on the album. 

Album cover for the single to a live version of Cretin Hop.

A "cretin" is a word usually used as an insult for someone who is extremely stupid or foolish. Originally, the word used to be used in the medical world because a “cretin” referred to someone afflicted by cretinism, a congenital medical condition caused by untreated thyroid deficiency (often due to a lack of dietary iodine) that results in stunted physical growth and intellectual disability. The Ramones were aware of the word's history when they wrote this song which does not insult people who may be cretins. Instead, they are identifying with people who are different and the song is supposed to show support for all misfits and outcasts who don't easily fit into the world.

From Wikipedia, a person afflicted with Cretinism.

I personally liked this song the most on the album because of the catchy beat and the flow of the lyrics. I also like the way that the Ramones found a way to work in dark humor, which I also like to work into my conversations with friends. They are a band that doesn't take itself too seriously and I like that about them.

To finish off I decided to interviewing my teacher, Mr. Hodgkinson.

Me: Were you familiar with the band?

Mr. H: I was. I first heard about them when the movie Rock and Roll High School was in theatres. It was advertised in some of the magazines I loved, including National Lampoon.  That movie came out the summer before I went into Grade 9 and I really wanted to see it, but it wasn’t playing at the theatre in the small town where I lived. I was intrigued by it because it seemed to be a little dangerous and I was already a big fan of comedies like that. I was also starting to figure out what kind of music I liked. The poster looked like something out of Mad Magazine and was similar to the Animal House poster -- another movie I was desperate to see because of the reputation it already had among my friends.

Rock and Roll High School and Animal House movie posters.

Me: Were you familiar with this album in particular?

Mr. H.: I knew of the album, but did not own it. I am now familiar with many of the tracks, but I don’t think I ever listened to it in order until it came up on this list.

Me: Speaking of the songs, which is your favorite?

Mr. H: I’ve always liked Rockaway Beach, I love all things New York City. I’ve been there many times and even got married there. One of my favorite things to do there is to visit places made famous in songs and movies. So, I’ve been to Coney Island and Brighton Beach, but I have yet to make it to Rockaway Beach -- that is a future trip, for sure. I also love the cover songs on the record -- Do You Wanna Dance? And Surfin’ Bird.

Rockaway Beach lyrics.

Me: After listening to the album, what's your overall favorite thing about it?

Mr. H: I love the energy it brings. It is the kind of record that makes me want to move. I can see it being motivating during a gym workout. I also like that it is fearless. As you know, I often tell my students to “be willing to be a little ridiculous” when we are doing improv games or drama activities. The Ramones seem fearless and give themselves permission to have fun. I think I dismissed this music too easily as a kid because I was drawn toward more complex music - Rush, Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis. Now I realize that there is something wonderful about unabashed energy, enthusiasm and just trying something, like punk rock music, because it is fun.

Me: Thanks.

In my eyes the Ramones will always be legendary band no matter if I’m 11 or 26 they are forever in my thoughts and forever a brilliant band!

Thank you for reading!

Hadley

The 500 - #137 - Tim - The Replacements

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: #137
Album Title: Tim
Artist: The Replacements
Genre: Alternative Rock, Punk Rock, Power Pop
Recorded: Nicolette Studios, Minneapolis, Minnesota
Released: September, 1985
My age at release: 20
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all
Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Bastards of Young (Ed Stasium Mix)

Long before I dropped the needle...or rather, queued up the stream... for my first listen to Tim, the fourth studio album by The Replacements, I recalled some advice that had been given to me a few years previously. This cautionary guidance had come during a discussion about a previous post concerning the debut record from The Replacements, Let It Be. Those sage words? Skip the original mix for Tim and dive straight into the 2023 remix by producer Ed Stasium. Reissued by Rhino records, the Stasium Remixes were part of a four CD package dubbed Tim: Let It Bleed Edition, containing alternate takes, demos and a 1986 live performance recorded at the Cabaret Metro Concert Hall in Chicago.

Tim: Let It Bleed Edition album cover (2023).

It was sound advice. Stasium isn’t just any studio hand, he’s a former punk guitarist turned sonic architect with an impressive résumé. From shaping the raw energy of the Ramones and the artful edge of Talking Heads to powering Living Colour’s Grammy-winning 1988 debut Vivid, Stasium has spent decades honing studio chaos into high fidelity clarity.

However, I had to wonder: What was wrong with the original record? And, if "I didn't listen to it first, how would I know the latter was better?" So, on Monday of last week, I intentionally arrived an hour early at my school classroom to give the 1985 version of Tim an uninterrupted listen while puttering about preparing for the week. I did the same on Tuesday, and by Wednesday the record was starting to grow on me. Sure, it was rough and unpolished, but that seemed to accentuate the themes on the record -- restlessness, youthful defiance, loneliness and fleeting love. Paul Westerberg, the band's guitarist, vocalist and songwriter, penned lyrics that are raw, plainspoken, self-deprecating and funny, capturing 20-something, working class disillusionment.

Westerberg's handwritten lyrics for
Here Comes A Regular, from Tim.

On Wednesday, I made the switch (from the 1985 original mix of Tim to Ed Stasium’s 2023 Let It Bleed Edition) and the difference hit like a jolt. Suddenly, the fog lifted. The original, produced by Tommy Erdelyi (aka Tommy Ramone of the Ramones), had long been criticized for its murky sound. The vocals felt buried under digital reverb, guitars smeared together, drums seemed to be pushed so far back they barely registered. Stasium’s remix flipped that script. Westerberg’s voice steps into the spotlight, guitars snarl with definition and the drums finally punch through with authority. For me, it wasn’t just an upgrade, it was a full-on sonic revelation.

Ed Stasium surrounded by some of the tools of his trade.

The change in sound immediately reminded me of another remix from my favourite band, Rush. In 2002, the Canadian trio released their 17th studio record, Vapour Trails. It was the first record released after a six-year hiatus for the band -- drummer Neil Peart suffered the loss of his daughter in an automobile accident and his wife to cancer ten months apart. For a time, it seemed the band might be done altogether. News of their return to a Toronto studio in 2001 brought eager anticipation from their loyal fan base, myself included.

When Vapor Trails dropped, it was hailed as Rush’s triumphant return to a guitar-driven, hard rock sound after two decades of synth-heavy experimentation. But sonically? It was a mess. The album fell victim to the so-called “loudness war,” a mastering trend of the 90's and early 00's that cranked everything to peak volume at the expense of clarity. The result was a dense, distorted wall of sound where instruments bled into each other and dynamics were crushed flat. Fans adored the songs, but many admitted the listening experience was exhausting, even unbearable in long doses.

In 2013, Canadian producer David Bottrill gave Vapor Trails the overhaul it desperately needed, and the result was transformative. Gone was the suffocating compression and in its place, space and clarity. Instruments finally had room to breathe. The guitars and bass regained their warmth and Peart’s drums sounded organic and thunderous instead of crushed into the background. The remix didn’t just fix technical flaws, it unlocked the emotional core of the record, turning what was once a sonic headache into a powerful, cathartic experience that matched the intensity of Rush’s songwriting. It added the emotional depth needed to the track Ghost Rider which was inspired by Peart's 14-month motorcycle journey across North America during his healing process after losing the two most important people in his world -- his wife and only child.

Ghost Rider: Travels On The Healing Road.
the 2002 memoir from Neil Peart.

I am glad I spent a couple days with the original recording of Tim. It gave me context for the vastly superior 2023 remix. However, much like the original recording of Vapour Trails, I won't be playing it again. Instead, I will always opt for their vastly improved remixed counterparts.

The 500 - #152 - Self-Titled (Debut) - The B52's

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: #152
Album Title: Self-Titled (Debut)

Artist: The B52s

Genre: New Wave, Post Punk, College Rock, Dance Rock, Pop Punk

Recorded: Compass Point Studios, Nassau, Bahamas

Released: July, 1979

My age at release: 13
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Planet Claire

My love of the absurd has been well chronicled in this blog series. The late ‘70s was a golden age for surreal, avant-garde and boundary-pushing art, music and comedy, and it coincided with my transition from childhood into my teenage years. I suppose my fascination with offbeat, subversive farce began with syndicated episodes of the British sketch comedy program Monty Python's Flying Circus, which aired on the Detroit PBS affiliate WTVS on Channel 56. In a time before cable television was the norm, watching U.S. stations on the UHF dial was not easy and often required patient (sometimes surgically meticulous) manipulation of our television's antennae. It was always worth it for the Python lads.

Shortly after discovering the Monty Python series, The Dr. Demento Show became a Sunday night listening ritual on WABX 95.3 FM, also out of Detroit. Dr. Demento was the alter ego of musicologist and radio personality Barret Hansen who broadcast from Pasadena, California. His radio show began as a free-form rock program, but evolved into a showcase for novelty songs, comedy and absurd audio oddities. After Hansen played the song Transfusion by Nervous Norvus he was told he must be “demented” to have played it. Transfusion is a ridiculous and satirical take on reckless driving, told from the perspective of a driver who keeps getting into car accidents and requires blood transfusions.

At first, I felt alone in my love of the odd. My elementary school chums and the teammates on my hockey club were of a more conventional ilk. Sure, we talked sports, superheroes, stuntman Evel Knievel and network television programs -- especially The Six Million Dollar Man, Charlie's Angels and Happy Days.

The Tuesday Night Line-Up on ABC.

We shared plenty of laughs over mainstream sources like the kid-friendly satire of MAD and Cracked magazines. But we also found ourselves inexplicably amused by Wacky Packages -- those collectible stickers that spoofed popular consumer products with absurd names like “Crust” instead of Crest toothpaste, or “Dampers” in place of Pampers diapers. Looking back, it was a bizarre trend, and probably not as funny as we thought at the time. (See Below)

When I turned 12, my tastes continued to lean toward the mature, irreverent, and subversive -- even when I didn’t fully grasp the material. I started saving my babysitting and newspaper delivery money to buy National Lampoon, a bold, countercultural magazine spun off from the Harvard Lampoon and aimed at college-aged readers. Speaking of babysitting, that early job also introduced me to my greatest, contemporary source of absurd, experimental comedy and groundbreaking music: Saturday Night Live (SNL).

Each week, armed with a bowl of potato chips and a backed by a fridge full of pop, I’d commandeer a neighbor’s couch (once their kids were safely tucked in) and brace myself for a full-on comedic assault from the brilliant, unpredictable minds of the "Not Ready for Prime Time Players" -- Gilda Radner, John Belushi, Bill Murray, Jane Curtin, Garrett Morris, Laraine Newman, and Canadian standout Dan Aykroyd. Between Coneheads and Samurai Delicatessen sketches, or Weekend Update segments featuring Radner’s sweet but fiery Emily Litella hilariously mangling the latest news headline, SNL would drop in performances from the coolest, hippest bands of the moment. It was chaos, it was genius -- and it felt like it had been made for me.

SNL cast (1976-1980) (l-r) Morris, Curtain, Belushi, Newman, Ackroyd, 
Radner and Murray.

Over those first few years, 1975 - 1980, I witnessed rock history, through live broadcasts and reruns.

• The enigmatic Frank Zappa delivered a searing satire of television and mass media with his performance of  I Am the Slime, (literally and figuratively) oozing irony and biting commentary from Studio 8H in New York City. 
• Then came the ethereal brilliance of Kate Bush, introduced by that week’s host, Monty Python’s Eric Idle, as she performed her haunting ballad The Man with the Child in His Eyes and the whimsical, spiritually charged Them Heavy People. I had her lyric "rolling the ball" clogging my noggin' for weeks after.
• As I documented in my March 2020 blog for album #442, I vividly remember watching Devo unleash their frenetic, deconstructed cover of the Rolling Stones’ (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction. Complete with neon yellow hazmat suits, the jerky choreography, and robotic vocals felt like a transmission from another world.
• I distinctly remember February 16, 1980. I was at home watching Gary Numan perform his breakout synth-pop hit Cars and the shadowy, atmospheric Praying to the Aliens. My dad sat behind me on the couch, reading a book, clearly perplexed by this enigmatic, android-like figure who seemed more machine than man. I am sure the words, "bloody rubbish", went through his head, but he was kind enough to remain quiet and allow me my moment of pop-culture euphoria.

  

  Gary Numan performing in 1980 on SNL. 

Just three weeks earlier (January 26, 1980), host Teri Garr, riding the cinematic successes of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Oh, God! and The Black Stallion, introduced a quirky band from Athens, Georgia: The B-52’s. Comprising Fred Schneider (vocals), Kate Pierson (vocals, keyboards), Cindy Wilson (vocals), sibling Ricky Wilson (guitar), and Keith Strickland (drums), the group exploded onto the contemporary music scene with a sound that was as hard to define as it was to ignore. Their unique blend of surf rock, punk, new wave, and dance music, playfully layered with call-and-response vocals, kitschy lyrics, and vintage sci-fi and pop culture references, was unlike anything else I had seen.

The B52's in 1980, (l-r) Schneider, Pierson, Strickland, 
R. Wilson and C. Wilson.

Formed in 1976, the band had built a loyal following through the underground and college radio scenes. Athens, home to the University of Georgia, was a fertile ground for alternative culture, and the B-52s thrived in its creative soil. With their beehive hairdos, thrift-store fashion, and campy, colorful aesthetic, they were often seen by mainstream audiences as too weird or gimmicky -- which, of course, made them a perfect beacon for my avant-garde comedic and musical gaze.

The B52's performing - 1980s

Their debut record, which appears at #152 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, helped define the emerging new wave scene and positioned the B-52’s as pioneers of alternative pop. The single Rock Lobster quickly created a cult following, and then mainstream, and a chart hit. The album eventually went platinum.

I owned a copy of the debut on cassette and, along with a few other oddball new wave releases, including The Monks’ Bad Habits and Devo’s 1980 offering, Freedom of Choice, I wore them out on my home cassette player. (Note: It wasn't until years later that I would learn that Bad Habits was only a hit record in Canada -- and specifically in Ontario. The record is actually a spoof of the punk rock / new wave scene and was performed by members of the progressive/folk rock band The Strawbs")

When I think back on that young teen, who seems a stranger to me now, drawn to the offbeat, the absurd, and the wonderfully weird, these bands gave me something I hadn’t found in my middle school friendships: a sense of belonging. Those original group of friends and I had been thrown together by geography and circumstance, we were, like those Wacky Packages, randomly stuck with each other -- minus the hard strip of chewing gum. But through music, I eventually found people who got me. The weirdness of the B-52s, Frank Zappa and Devo, wasn’t just entertaining, it was affirming. It told me that being different wasn’t just okay; it was something to celebrate.