1990s – hip hop, grunge, and the divas. Bands gave way to institutions. You only needed one name – Madonna and Mariah, Janet and Celine, Eminem and Dre. Nirvana. By the end of the decade, even the delivery system was changing. Napster arrived and threatened the entire business model. It was a turbulent era. It produced some phenomenal music.
The albums I am choosing for a perfect list mostly reflect what was going on beneath that popular mainstream surface. They are not as well-known outside their fanbases as some of the other albums I have praised from earlier decades. Maybe that’s because music was expanded in all directions and it just became harder and harder to be all things to all people.
But that should not imply that any of these albums are somehow small. They may exist in smaller universes than the biggest-sellers of the day, but within those universes, they are explosive works of art. Some are loud and bold. Some are quiet and heart-wrenching. All are perfect.
Five perfect albums from the 1990s
A TRIBE CALLED QUEST: LOW END THEORY (1991)
In the early ‘90s, hardcore rap was ascendant. Writers like Chuck D and Ice Cube were producing some of the most pointed social commentary in the country. The decade would come to be known for the violent deaths of two of hip hop’s finest spokesmen when Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. were gunned down in 1996 and ’97 respectively.
Through all the turbulence – the violence and misogyny and homophobia – through all the political firestorms and cultural earthquakes – a couple of childhood friends from Queens somehow managed to avoid most of the craziness and produce great, thought-provoking music. On their second album, released when Q-Tip and Phife Dawg – along with their DJ Ali Shaheed Muhammad – were all 21 years old, they created an all-time masterpiece.
The Low End Theory rejected most of the production bluster of many of their contemporaries. And though the two friends weren’t above blowing their own horns, their entire demeanor never approached the cartoonish bluster of other top-shelf rappers. Low End suggested that intelligent writing and a solid groove could blow the doors off most current hip hop. So they could do a dis track aimed at the standard issue “Rap Promoter.” But Q Tip’s threat wasn’t that he would blow away a greedy promoter with his AK. It was simply that he wouldn’t play the show. There was a maturity to the way A Tribe Called Quest saw the world that escaped most supposedly more mature artists.
It is apparent from the first track – “Excursions” – which begins by sampling jazz great Art Blakey and later uses Last Poets Umar Bin Hassan’s “Time” to comment on how culture is cyclical - Tribe was clearly drawing on far more than standard issue breaks for their music. Low End Theory has hits, like “Buggin’ Out” which has been ubiquitous in film and television since the ‘90s, and “Check the Rhyme,” a beautiful origin story about a couple of friends who began rapping together before they hit double digits.
And it wasn’t without controversy. But even its most infamous track – “Infamous Date Rape” – approaches the subject of sexual assault with a nuance that you rarely find in pop music regardless of genre. In short, Low End Theory offered up 14 songs, each with a solid beat and smart lyrics. And not a skit in sight.
PJ HARVEY: DRY (1992)
In 1992, PJ Harvey was a band. It was a trio consisting of Steve Vaughan on bass, Rob Ellis on drums, and frontwoman Polly Jean Harvey playing guitar and violin and singing. She also wrote all the music. Their first album Dry was hard to pinpoint. Angrier than indie, more melodic than punk. I suppose it was post-punk, but it had a bluesier vibe than most post-punk that I know of. The fact that it was fronted by a woman made it all the more idiosyncratic.
The first track “Oh My Lover” is almost gothic in tone and that theatrical aura pervades even rockers like “Dress,” and “Joe.” “Sheela-Na-Gig” is the centerpiece anthem, which goes as far as quoting classic American musical theater in a totally repurposed manner. Some of the tracks rock a little harder and others might be called ballads, but they are all just varied flavors within a modern blues-rock album.
Harvey would release one more album with her trio before shifting gears. She kept the name – after all, it was hers – but went solo and has been experimenting with styles and genres ever since. Her fans pick from several landmark recordings when choosing a favorite. I think she has done some remarkable work in the intervening years, (2011’s Let England Shake is a great album), but I find myself more interested in listening to her debut more than any of the others.
IRIS DEMENT: MY LIFE (1994)
I don’t remember the time or the place, but I still have a perfect sense of memory of hearing the first track off of Iris Dement’s second album – “Sweet is the Melody.” I had considered myself an outlaw country man. I liked Johnny and Willie. I liked rockers like The Allman Brothers and Molly Hatchet. Traditional country – no thanks.
But here was this voice – as twangy and potent as Tennessee moonshine, as pure a country water. She was singing the sweetest song imaginable about the power of music. I was hooked. I sat down to listen to the rest of the album with a bit of dread. Surely, that opening track was a pleasant anomaly. The rest would probably offer diminishing returns.
But, lo and behold, the rest got better. There was the heartbreak of “You’ve Done Nothing Wrong,” the joyous memory of “Childhood Memories,” the weary wisdom of “Easy’s Getting’ Harder Every Day.” Each song was a deep well of emotion and memory, all presented simply by the truest country voice you could hope for. She has a great road song – “No Time to Cry” – and a requisite spiritual, covering Maybelle Carter’s “Troublesome Waters.” She wraps it all up with the simple piano ballad “My Life,” a humble and beautiful tribute to the smallest of pleasures. Dement would become John Prine’s favorite duet partner, which ought to tell you something about just how special a singer she is.
RANCID: AND OUT COME THE WOLVES (1995)
They formed from the ashes of Operation Ivy, bringing ska to punk and helping bands like Green Day and Offspring forever change the way punk music functioned in the world of pop. Rancid's third album, created as the major labels (“the wolves”) were circling, yielded several instant classics.
These were insanely catchy songs like “Time Bomb,” “Ruby Soho,” and “Roots Radical,” that still retained the rough edges of underground punk. The sixteen other non-hits are just as good, from the rocking opener “Maxwell Murder,” to the oddly poignant “Olympia, WA,” from the pounding “Junkie Man,” to the spastic “Daly City Train,” every song fits.
Guitarists Tim Armstrong and Lars Frederiksen are not particularly good singers. (Nor is bass player Matt Freeman – he didn’t sing any leads on And Out Come the Wolves but he would on subsequent albums.) Their voices are perfect for Rancid’s songs though. They are just good enough to never get grating, just as every track on Out Come the Wolves is just melodious enough to stave off the ponderous quality of so many other punk rockers. Last year – 28 years after their seminal punk recording, Rancid put out Tomorrow Never Comes, one of the best albums of 2023.
STEVE EARLE: EL CORAZON (1997)
In 1988, Steve Earle created one of the greatest country rock albums of all-time – Copperhead Road. The success of that record took a young man who already had serious alcohol and drug issues and very nearly killed him. Amazingly, he continued to put out outstanding albums. When he was finally able to get clean, he put out an album that is almost the equal of Copperhead Road. El Corazon may not have the extraordinary peaks of the 1988 release, but across its 12 songs, it consistently offers perfect songcraft.
The album is bookended by two almost-too-poignant-for words tributes to two of Earle’s musical inspirations. The opener, a sad, beautiful political homage to Woody Guthrie entitled “Christmas in Washington” mentions the great man by name. The final song, “Ft. Worth Bules,” never explicitly names Townes Van Zandt but his imprint is all over it.
In between, there are a couple of bluegrass gems (one with the Del McCoury Band), several heartfelt love songs, and several top-shelf rockers. The harmonica-fueled stomp of “You Know the Rest,’ and the fuzzy blues of “Here I Am” are instant classics. And the titanic, harrowing “Taneytown” is a worthy successor to the anthemic “Copperhead Road.”
When you hear Earle perform in or around the Washington DC area, he typically prefaces “Taneytown” with an apology – saying he just looked at a map and thought the name sounded good. He didn’t realize that he was mispronouncing it, and didn’t bother to learn whether the small Maryland town had the history of racial unrest depicted in the lyrics. Speaking as a lifelong Marylander, all is forgiven.
So you’ve got Indie Rock, Punk Rock, and Country Rock, along with some straight Hip Hop and straight Country. Good tunes. Good decade.