My monthly guitargasm

In truth, my recent fixation with Stevie Wonder inevitably boils down to one album, Fulfillingness' First Finale. Lately, I've been considering what elements go into making my favorite albums. Admittedly, I used to rate albums by starting with the Starostin baseline rating, and deviating a point or two based on whether I liked it or not. For example, Quadrophenia by the Who. I used to give it a 15, because Starostin gave it a 15, and I really liked the album, so I figured it was a good candidate for a 15. Basically, I was extremely hesitant to give perfect scores when there was no precedent for it, even though I was at that point showing my ratings to no one, and only bringing them up in casual conversation. Now Quad is a great album, probably worthy of a 13 or a 14 on my personal scale now, so I don't mean to slight it. But I never should have bestowed the 15 rating upon it, because personally, the overblown aspect of the record does eventually get to me. 80 minutes of horn-dominated arrangements do wear thin after awhile, even with the record's torrent of masterful songs.
Considering this, I realized that my current ideal of an album is one that is great and complex, but is never a chore to listen to, like most of the overblown masterworks (Quadrophenia, Blonde on Blonde, even Wonder's own Songs in the Key of Life). My ideal of an album is one that drifts over me almost effortlessly, latches into my subconscious, smooth and rich, but also deep, with plenty of reasons to listen to it again. It would have to embrace seeming contradictions; namely being both simple and complex.
The closest thing I have to that ideal in the catalog of the twentieth century is Fulfillingness' First Finale. This album is usually overlooked coming in between Innervisions and Songs in the Key of Life, given four and a half stars, and dismissed as another 'great Wonder album.' In a way, these throw-away compliments are extremely high praise for Wonder, since critics assume that a great album was par for the course for him at the time. However, I feel that FFF is better than his other albums of the period, and I actually feel that it is significantly better, that his more-acclaimed albums do not really hold up to it at all. See, FFF is simultaneously simple and complex. It gives off a calm, easy-going feel, and is great to listen to from the get-go, yet with each spin, the songs sink more and more into my mind. The more you listen, the more its subtleties are revealed. Gorgeous melodies, innovative bass and drum parts, spirited harmonies, etc. The greatness of the album is that it sounds so easy, so effortless, so humble, yet it is hardly those things at all upon close analysis of the music. FFF is where Wonder finally reached the perfect middle of his ambitions. His other albums sink just a little bit because he tries to get too complex, and occasionally loses his way. Yet FFF is the perfect middle; it is just as complex as his other albums, but more reserved; instead of being a chore to listen to, it puts me into a state of bliss from the beginning of the album.
Like all records, it has its weak points. "They Don't Go When I Go" does suffer from being a little too involved and overblown, and "Bird of Beauty" is pretty much a filler track. However, even these weaker songs are still pretty damn good. And the best material here I find totally cathartic. It's mostly the ballads that kill me. I suppose the other component of my ideal album is that I do tend to favor slow songs as my ultimate favorites. I need the ballads that will totally kill me to listen to, that will make me want to cry tears of joy. The other rock album I gave a 9.5 out of 10 in my recent ratings re-appraisal, the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds is similar to FFF in a lot of these ways. It too, is complex, but comes off utterly humble and simple, making it that much more personal. It too, has a handful of ballads that utterly slay me, led by "Don't Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)."
So last night, ruminating on all these things, I listened to FFF again, and it was one of the most rewarding musical experiences I'd had in months, confirming my decisions to give it my highest possible rating. For the record, a 10 is probably impossible. When the third track, "Too Shy To Say," came on I actually started to weep. Yes, I hadn't had enough sleep the night before, which I've found makes me prone to high emotions. But actually weeping upon hearing a song was something new for me. I've cried before when listening to music, but never so much as with that song last night.
The other album I gave a 9.5, Mozart's Requiem, is a different animal altogether, I suppose, not being related to the arc of twentieth-century popular music. It also meets my ideal of an album, although it's another type of ideal which capitalizes on my feelings that there may be nothing more cathartic than hearing a choir sing transcendent music.
I don't write this post as a recommendation of these albums, because I know there's not much chance that one of my friends would be as moved by FFF as I am, thus making discussion of the album with others a disappointment, in the long run. Most consider it to be an excellent album, though, but my opinion that it is one of the main candidates for greatest album of the twentieth century is definitely a minority one. It just strikes me personally, which is the best attribute an album can have. When I buy acclaimed albums, I know that I will probably be fascinated by them, at the least, and really enjoy a lot of the key tracks. But I always hold out hope that each album I buy will turn out to be the next album that resonates with me totally. When I find these albums, I never see it coming, and it becomes one truly tremendous surprise when I realize that I have found another record that will make me unspeakably happy.
Unfortunately, in the past, I've actually lost most of the magic of listening to the old records that used to move me utterly. Jeff Buckley's Grace, The Beatles' Abbey Road; these do not hold the spell over me that they once did. I hope that FFF isn't headed for the same fate; perhaps overexposure dampens my spiritual bonds to a piece of music. Maybe the best recourse is to try not listening to FFF or Pet Sounds for months, and see how I feel later on.