Greatest Albums of 1997

Featuring: Radiohead, Elliott Smith, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, Foo Fighters, Erykah Badu, Biggie, Creed, Third Eye Blind, Sleater-Kinney

1997 was one of my favorite years in music. Its the perfect combination of genres declining, peaking, and ascending, but even more meaningfully for me it was a year I was actually aware of, full of bands that were at their peaks a few years later when I started to discover and listen to music on my own accord. The grunge and alt rock greats were still near their commercial peaks, hip-hop was in its golden era, and the seeds were being sown for the boy band and new rock/nu metal movements of the next few years, which for all their flaws were wildly interesting musical times.

Radiohead - OK Computer

This is probably the most bittersweet Radiohead album out there for me. It’s by far my favorite (relatively speaking), marking the band’s ascension to the immense potential expressed in their first two albums. But to me, after this album, the promising sound that had been so reluctant to emerge just… up and died. The potential greatness I grew to enjoy from this album never came about again, replaced by a face-stealing computerized band of pretentious derivative imposters. Uhh, ahem, no offense.

So while I do enjoy this album in its own, it’s difficult to hear it knowing what great music might have come after if the band had continued exploring the sound they had developed by 1997. I know many will disagree. Reinvention is every artist’s right, and I don’t begrudge Radiohead for reinventing themselves in order to find artistic fulfillment. But as a selfish fan, it stinks to lose potentially good music to a reinvention I found extremely weird - especially when I know what we could have had.

Elliott Smith - Either/Or

Elliott Smith’s dreamy, longing voice sounds like it was recorded by the finest recording equipment in the middle of a mossy forest clearing. It’s got brown camper van vibes that I can neither explain nor ignore. Or maybe I can quantify it - it was recorded largely in Portland, Oregon, perhaps the campervan-iest city in the world.

The music is dainty and flowing, melancholy in a laid back way. From the lens of 2024, it plays like a precursor to the bedroom confessional pop that dominates the pop airwaves of today. I have mixed feelings about that genre/trait/musical classification myself, but there’s no denying that every generation needs some version of the “lonely person with an instrument and microphone” schtick.

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - The Boatman’s Call

I didn’t know anything about Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, to be totally honest. It’s one of those acts that I’ve always been aware of and read about, but never crossed paths with for one reason or another. This album is his 10th, and critics considered it one of his best, so I thought it was time to jump in.

This album has a sunset feel, an old-school “I guess this is curtains for me, folks” kind of sound, and it’s very dated-sounding in 2024. It’s not quite old man yelling at clouds - it’s more like middle aged man gently lamenting the fact that clouds exist. What’s wild is the fact that it’s completely not true for Nick - in 2024 he’s still pumping out Grammy-worth music, so clearly he wasn’t slowing down in 1996 despite the weary sound of songs like “People Ain’t No Good,” which although true, sounds like the soundtrack of my grandpa’s favorite black and white movie.

I’d be very curious to learn about Nick Cave’s precious career. Was it more energetic than this? Did he ever sound young? I’ll find out on my own of course but I’m curious if anyone can enlighten me sooner than that. This album is so sleepy and church-pew dusty that it’s hard to imagine the earlier iterations of his music being any different.

Erykah Badu - Baduizm

Holy guacamole, was this album a fun listen. For a debut, it’s insanely mature, with an assured and soulful sound that feels as if it was developed and road-tested in smoky speakeasies for years. No notes - it’s just fantasic.

Foo Fighters - The Color and the Shape

Ahh, early Foo. I think my copy of this album was the first CD ever to be worn out from overplaying. I probably played this thing in my old red Walkman CD player so many times that the laser that read the CD left a groove in the disc. It’s got more variety than many Foo albums to me, when Dave Grohl’s voice still had a little bit of clarity left underneath the growl, although after the one-breath shouting marsthon on Everlong I don’t really know how that’s possible.

This band is hard to hate, despite recent revelations about Grohl’s personal life. Some people today might say that’s because the music is mainstream, but that’s just from the perspective of 30 years of the band’s success. This is the purest quality rock to an entire generation, distilled to perfect clarity. OK, there are a few dud songs, but the classics shine through and the songs in between are still Foo rock, aka infinitely headbangable.

Notorious B.I.G. - Life After Death

One of the most iconic voices in hip hop’s golden age, who taught my entire Millennial generation that mo money equals no problems. And we took that to heart as a generation, let me tell you - Millennials are the broke generation, y’all. Some might say it was economic collapse and irresponsible fiscal policy and insane housing markets and stagnant wages perpetuated by previous generations, but don’t be fooled; it’s more likely that the entire generation simply adopted Biggie’s mantra and refused money in order to diminish our problems.

Biggie’s delivery is always a little behind the beat, full of unhurried swagger. He was a ridiculous talent.

Third Eye Blind - Third Eye Blind

So confession time - Third Eye Blind was my first ever live concert. I was like 9, visiting Myrtle Beach with my friend and his family, and it was as the House of Blues. My friend’s older sister got the tickets and played the band’s music all the way down to the beach, while my buddy and I made faces at passing cars.

Now keep in mind, this was the same trip where I bought my dad a Harley Davidson double shot glass at souvenir shop, and when my friend’s dad asked “does your dad drink?” I was like yeah of course, thinking he meant water (my dad has never consumed alcohol). So yes, my judgment/awareness of the world might have been underdeveloped, but I still had a great time rocking out to Third Eye Blind and wondering what those weird clouds of smoke coming from the front rows of the concert were composed of.

It says something about the timelessness of a song when I can just write “doo-doo-doo, doo-do-do-doo” and you know exactly what song I’m talking about. This album does not want me to “put the past away.” Oh look, I did it again and you know exactly what song I’m referring to. Classics, y’all.

Creed - My Own Prison

Creed is having some viral success these days. It’s hard to tell sometimes if that’s ironic or legitimate - I kind of think it’s the latter, but it’s more of a guilty pleasure thing, like a vice that used to be taboo but now is socially acceptable.

Creed is melodramatic, without a doubt. (For the kids these days, they’re basically like the Hozier of the 90’s with distorted guitar and drums and a similar amount of church references/cringey moments.) They’re brooding, self-absorbed, and almost preachy. But can you really deny that it’s awesome pop rock? Their sound is just an evolution of the gloomy early 90’s alt rock and heavier pop rock and grunge, with a lead singer channeling his grunge and metal heroes, and those are all awesome things in their own right. Critics called it derivative, and I can’t argue that point too much, but I’d make the case that deriving a sound from the work of others is in itself not original. Not a positive, but also not a negative in and of itself.

The album was recorded for $6,000, released on the band’s own label, and sold over 6 million copies. It’s the embarrassing dad rock of my generation, and even if you pretend to hate it, I don’t believe you. Guess what - lying to yourself isn’t original, either.

Sleater-Kinney - Dig Me Out

This album is slightly jittery energy from start to finish. Singer Corbin Tucker sounds perpetually on the edge of losing control of her vocals, but she never quite does, with emotion dripping from every sharp, sometimes wobbly note in a way that makes my voice crack in sympathy with her vocal chords. The effect only adds to the forward drive of the album, which lets up only briefly like a car creating a hill and getting ready to hit the downslope on the other side.