here's my scorching take: just as the most devoted ice cream aficionados ultimately return full-circle to vanilla, i believed the most seasoned, john-cusack, elitist music-lovers will inevitably re-embrace the unbridled sincerity of Billy Joel. we'll all just wait for you to drop your pretensions and submit yourself.
but i get it. you're 12, and you're manically exploring your musical identity & each subsequent baggage, flipping through the (to continue the analogy) artisanal flavor of month”: “post-vaporwave,” “emo-core,” “proto-mumble-rap,” or “neo-noise-step.” and a closer look will reveal these upsetting subgenres to be like galaxies, each containing massive constellations of micro-sub-genres. but at some point, you will turn 13, and discover that the aesthetic attributes become irrelevant: they are just pitstops in your exploration of music, each with their own purpose: confusion, self-actualization, angst, escapism, catharsis, fear. you could ascribe any band or genre to the points in this constellation. nu-metal. nine inch nails. these stars are important, but they are stepping stones to the final destination, the sun. which is billy joel.
a.) let olive garden (fittingly)* represent Billy Joel. cynical detractors will lampoon his middle-of-the-road, watered-down faux-Italian-authenticity. but everyone else, those who have abandoned some fucked up loftiness for the joy of life, will just enjoy the breadsticks, which are in fact really enjoyable. maybe you can find a way in via irony. joel built his career on ed koch-era pseudo-mccartneyisms, like if coppola directed Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da: The Movie. i've noticed irony is also how people tend to approach bossa-nova, but you you can't sustain a record collection on irony. you must let that irony solidify into sincerity.
b.) understanding the sincerity of billy joel is like staring into the sun.
c.) billy joel, unlike his (often unfortunately) undeterred contemporaries, called it quits. the joel catalog is finite—he has sworn to countless audiences never to disavow his 1993 retirement from songwriting and decision to tour for the rest of his life. he put down his pen to pick up a mic, effectively transforming his career from pop craftsman to pop peddler, traversing the globe singing songs of yesteryore. this means a lot for arena venues around the globe, but what does it mean for those who can’t log on to madisonsquaregarden.com fast enough to snag tickets? it means that you can analyze his 13-album embarrassment of riches and delve fully and completely. sure, the joel catalog is finite, but you know what else is finite? the bible. And yet it continues to inspire centuries of revelation & revolution.
d.) billy joel promises a wholesome, american simplicity: a space in which auto mechanics lead odyssian quests through the perils of urban adulthood, where vietnam vets fretfully relive their missions, where divorced mothers become queens, and where the stuffy and skeptical grow up and wear their heart on their sleeve.
e.) here are some notable entry points:
Glass Houses (1980) is undoubtedly joel's flustered response to
Look Sharp!: angular riffs and rollicking drums!! the piano part in
"I Don't Want To Be Alone" is so unabashedly swiped off Joe Jackson's desk that u can hear his white shoes tapping on the tile floor. and it's also a little like speaking to that boy in middle school who pretended his voice was lower than it actually was. unsurprisingly the best track is the last, where he gives up and reverts to his saccharine mccartney worship. those soothing fake wind instruments? to die for.
Piano Man (1973) maybe you've heard of this one. people like to diss breakthrough albums because they're an easy entry into discographies, but this really has some great tracks on it. if you are looking for a crash course in clean 70s production, look no further. and billy
"worse comes to worst" is so killer, with joel repeatedly assuaging his fear of the future with the mysterious reminder that he "knows a woman in new mexico". the instrumental covers a shocking amount of textural ground. in the bridge, you have funky wah-wah guitar in the right channel, watery flanged in the left, a THIRD slide guitar, a gospel choir, and that killer bongo beat, and not for one moment does it feel cluttered. while these deft arrangements are likely the work of producer michael stewart, it's still an achievement to behold.
The Stranger (1977) is considered his best album. it's not, but it's his most
billy joel album and functions in some ways as a compendium of his entire discography, effectively showcasing the modes of billy we'd later see explored: tender balladeer, kitchen-sink storyteller, explosive rock champion.
Cold Spring Harbor (1971) this one is billy joel's
lost album if he ever had one. it was initially
mastered a little too high, pitching up billy joel's voice in (what i imagine would be to him) emasculating ways. i get the vibe that pitching it back down to its original state wouldn't be super revelatory, but i could b wrong
i've changed lives today
*a la “scenes from an italian restaurant"
