My Favorite Band By Year

I am about to turn 50 years old. I can’t believe it either. Where did all the years go? And when am I finally going to grow up and become an adult? Luckily, it hasn’t happened yet.

But I thought it would be fun to try to identify my favorite band every year of my life. Now, when I mean favorite band right then, I mean if that band showed up to play a limited entry gig in my town, I’d stop at almost nothing to go see them in that moment. Like, I have a lifetime love of the Rolling Stones, but there’s very rarely been a time they were tops on my must see list. Sorry, y’all, you got old. So did I.

So we are trying to live in the moment, and I swear I’m not trying to make myself look cool. Let’s face it, I don’t even know what cool is anymore. I’m also not trying to say this was the best band of the moment, just the band that was most in my head that year. This list is an autobiography, not a ranking.

1975: Bob Dylan

Having just been born, I had no musical tastes yet, but my dad was a big Dylan fan. Actually, that’s not entirely true. My dad was a folkie, and was one of the people upset when Dylan plugged in and went rock n roll. I find that funny, as it means I come by this bullshit honestly. Still, this one is for dad.

1976: Paul Simon

My mom’s favorite artist. Seeing that my dad was a big Dylan fan, I think it says a little bit about the two of them and their relationship. Again, I didn’t have much say in the manner, but as I grow older, I look back at my parent’s record collection, and there they are, every single Paul Simon record ever made. It makes me happy to this day. I didn’t really understand 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover at age 1.

1977: Ernie from Sesame Street

I start to develop my own taste, heavily influenced by Sesame Street and the Muppets. I think those first steps are important, and I remember having a tape with a blue printed label with the biggest Sesame Street hits. it was the first album I played over and over.

1978: Van Halen

I was not genuinely aware of rock music at this point in my life, or even pop music. But our neighbor had an Atari, and we’d go over to his house to play, and he had this giant Van Halen poster in which the members all looked like rock gods. It made an impression on me, and to this day, its what I think a band should look like, right down to the schlubby-looking bassist who looks like he’s lucky to be in the team photo.

1979: Woody Guthrie

I had no idea who Woody Guthrie was, but This Land Is Your Land was probably my first real favorite song. Our nursery school used it as a theme song, and I remember belting that thing out at the top of my lungs. I didn’t think about the lyrics or anything, but I enjoyed signing it.

1980: Barbara Mandrell

This one requires some explanation for our younger readers. Actually, to this day, I don’t think I could name a Barbara Mandrell song. But the Mandrell Sisters was appointment television for little Kindergarten aged Poseur. Variety programs used to be a regular feature of prime time, and now they seem almost quaint. Like, I can’t believe we used to sit around and watched the equivalent of professional entertainers acting like amateurs saying “let’s put on a show!” But it explains The Muppet Show. I loved the Muppets, still do, but Barbara was where it was at in 1980.

1981: Juice Newton

She is probably the first pop star I was ever aware of as having their own identity. Before that, I just heard stuff however you hear stuff, but its not like I had control of the radio dial. Hell, I doubt I even understood the concept of a radio station at this point. But the twin hits of “Queen of Hearts” and “Angel of the Morning” were songs I eagerly waited to come on the radio. I still didn’t quite get the fact I could buy (ok, my mom could buy for me) a recording. Instead, I’d sit in the car and wait for my favorite songs to come on. I just bought the record Juice a few months ago, and it absolutely holds up.

1982: Men at Work

My first album! My mom took my to Kemp Mill Records, and she bought me a tape of Men at Work’s Business as Usual. And I played the holy hell out of that cassette. I had this little tape player, and I’d carry it around with me, blasting Who Can It Be Now? Colin Hay has had a bit of late career resurgence, and I’m happy for him, but its like hearing your childhood remixed and repackaged for a new audience. That’s cool, that’s what pop culture is, but it still stings that little bit. This was a thing that was my memory, and now it belongs to the world in a different form. And that’s how things move forward.

1983: The Police

The Police don’t get remembered quite as much as an “MTV band” as other acts of the era like Duran Duran, but they’ve got some good MTV bona fides. Wrapped Around Your Finger dominated the airwaves from what I remember, and just about everything on this record was either a hit or a B-side that all my friends obsessed over. All killer, no filler. Well, except for Mother, but nobody’s perfect, right? The big thing I remember is how striking their visuals were. The three stripes for Synchronicity really stood out, and acted like a trademark for the band. It was the first time I started to think of pop music as visual medium as well.

1984: Cyndi Lauper

Boy, did I pick the losing side in this pop culture war or what? Madonna or Cyndi was a very real debate on my elementary school playground, and those of us who were starting to identify as a little off center naturally gravitated toward Cyndi. Whether we were right or wrong is immaterial, what is important, is this marked the first of many, many times I would be left defending the less popular option, even if that seemed impossible in 1984.

1985: Dire Straits

Oh yeah, you HAD to get on CD to hear it PROPERLY! (I got it on vinyl). In retrospect, its hysterical that the supposed vanguard of digital music was the Dire Straits, but it was a huge deal that this album was recorded, mastered, and then released in digital. Now, its just a really good guitar rock album and what I like about is more of the throwback stuff. The hits are what brought 10-year-old Poseur into the fold, but 50-year-old Poseur now loves stuff like Your Latest Trick and The Man’s too Strong. I didn’t know it at the time, but this is when I first started to love AOR and the worship of the album. I’ll be honest, I’ve never shook it. Albums rule.

1986: Run DMC

Unlike Men at Work, my mom did not drive me to the record store to buy me Run-DMC’s Raising Hell. In fact, I never bought a copy of it, I had to copy it from a friend. Sorry.

Now, we could say it was racism. My mom was okay with the white guys I was listening to, but she balked the moment I ventured into Black Music. But that’s unfair. My mom was, and is, much more of a classist. She doesn’t like things that are vulgar, and she thought rap was vulgar. Which is a ludicrous take on Run-DMC, a band that made songs about their Adidas and Peter Piper. Still, she didn’t buy me the record.

1987: Beastie Boys

On the flipside, I totally did purchase a copy of License to Ill, and it became the unofficial First Record I Had to Hide From My Parents. My second favorite artist was likely Weird Al Yankovic, which pretty much sums up the tastes of any 12-year-old boy. I was just like they were brand spanking new artists when I was 12.

I know they say they have grown out of this period, and I would like to think I have too, but then I hear the first bars of Paul Revere, and I’m 12-years-old, riding my bike down to the Wawa. It’s the best feeling in the world.

1988: Guns n Roses

At this point, I think I saw myself as a little iconoclast. I liked loud, angry music, with a heavy dose of humor to undercut it, that was specifically designed to upset all of the authority figures in my life. But I was a follower, just like everyone else. Because the thing is, Guns n Roses (and the Beasties and Run DMC before them) were the most popular band in school. And it wasn’t even close. I wasn’t rebelling, I was being like every other kid… which you know what? That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with hanging out with all the kids in school and belting out Mr. Brownstone.

1989: The Replacements

… and then we moved. The move was good for us, as a family. We moved from the working class side of town to the ritzy side of town. We got a bigger house, went to a nicer school, and generally moved up in the world. My parents were proud, as they were providing a better life for their kids. It’s all a parent wants, more opportunities for their kids.

And I was miserable. I didn’t fit in with the new school. I didn’t have the cool clothes, didn’t know their inside jokes, and being the 14-year-old burgeoning asshole I was, I didn’t want to learn. The Replacements spoke to me like no band ever had before. They weren’t rock stars, they were losers, just like me. They felt like me. I saw them open for Tom Petty and they were wearing Mrs. Petty’s clothes. They talked shit about Tom and played barely recognizable shitty 50s covers. They were drunk or high… probably both. I loved every goddamn second of it, even when the crowd booed them off the stage. If they aren’t gonna accept you, you might as well reject them first. Fucl ‘em.

1990: They Might Be Giants

So I doubled down on being a bookish nerd. TMBG could play fast and furious, but mainly, they were fun and goofy. Man, do I have a soft spot for fun and goofy…

1991: Spin Doctors

See? Right in the middle of the grunge explosion, I was listening to the poppiest, goofiest band on earth. One of my friends went to a bah mitvah and came back with a demo tape from one of the other guests. So we got to hear Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong long before it became a single. I couldn’t drive yet, but my buddy drove us down to College Park to see them at the Ritchie Colosseum. It was like being in on a secret.

1992: Mudhoney

I’m not trying to brag, but I was an early adopter of grunge. Even before Pearl Jam and Nirvana started to rule MTV, a friend passed me a copy of Superfuzz Bigmuff and I fell head over heels in love. Dirty, ugly rock n roll that felt like it was made for me. A few years earlier, it felt like we were gonna be trapped in Boomer Hell for eternity, and suddenly, it seemed like all of the culture was turning over at once. It was an exciting time in both music and movies, and for a brief moment… it felt like we were winning.

1993: Blind Melon

We were not winning. OK, I’m jumping ahead. Shannon Hoon wouldn’t die for a few more years, but it was devastating when it did. We had tickets to see Blind Melon in New Orleans, and this was pre-internet, so we had no idea… But for a brief period, I swear to God, I think I listened to their first record with my freshman roommate every damn night.

1994: Alice in Chains

They were my roommate’s favorite band so they sort of became my favorite band by proxy. I thought Sap was the funniest thing ever, with the band literally pissing on their previous incarnation. And they did a song with Mudhoney! It was perfect! Until, again, it wasn’t. But that crash was still a few years off as well.

1995: Fugazi

I first saw Fugazi in DC when I was still in high school, and I fell in love almost immediately. They stood for things! Yeah, it seems quaint now, but their anti-corporate, no sell out policy meant a lot to me mainly because they stuck by their guns. They didn’t just talk the talk, they walked the walk. The drawback was always… they weren’t funny. I’m a fan, still am, but I was reluctant to go all-in. But by the midpoint in college, I was Peak Humorless Scold.

1996: De La Soul

This is about me and my awkward growth, not a list of the greatest acts of each year. By that nature, there isn’t a lot of hip hop on this list. I like rap, but I always feel like an outside. I appreciate it more than I love it, and that’s okay. You know, not everything in the world has to be made for you. But there’s always gonna be that distance.

That said, the first time I heard De la Soul, I clocked them for exactly what they were… fellow nerds. You don’t sample Schoolhouse Rock without knowing what that means, you know? But by this point, they were shedding off their previous incarnations, and I loved how they kept reinventing themselves. They did not owe my a goddamn thing.

1997: Less Than Jake

Back to fun. Look, I know what you think of ska, and my rejoinder is simply: ska is fun. Lighten up.

And for all of their reputation as a band trapped in a sort of permanent adolescence, so many of LTJ’s songs are about growing up and growing out of who you were before. So sure, they are there for silly part of adolescence, but they embraced the scary parts, too. And there’s nothing scarier than graduating college and going off into the real world.

1998: Alkaline Trio

I read a review once, or maybe I just invented it in my head, which said “Alkaline Trio does not reinvent the wheel, they just revel in the fact the wheel is a good fucking invention.” My first ex-wife complained that they only knew three notes, to which I replied, “Yeah, the three good ones.”

Stop making shit harder than it has to be. I should heed my own advice.

1999: Jets to Brazil

I think I’m the only person who got into Jawbreaker via Jets to Brazil rather than vice versa. I knew it was Blake’s post-Jawbreaker band, and I’d heard about them, but I sort of missed out on them. That’s how it went back in those days. OK, there was an internet then, but it wasn’t like it is now. Sometimes, you missed the boat on people, and barely knew they existed when their moment happened.

I love Jawbreaker now. But I missed the moment.

2000: Sleater-Kinney

OK, at this point, I had given up on radio. the heady days of the early 90s were long gone, and we were left with shitty rap-rock bands, butt rock, and ex-Disney Club members confusing sex for maturity. A real dismal period for pop music, maybe the worst ever. The popular music wasn’t just bad, it was fucking depressing. It was straight out of dystopian nightmare so…. well, they kind of nailed it. I don’t know when I gave up on popular music, but this is a pretty good point.

I loved them then, but… 15 years later, my son was born with lambdoid craniosynostosis, and he had to have cranial/brain surgery. It was the most terrifying thing in my entire life, and during it, I listened to Sympathy on repeat. I had always loved the song, but that’s when it became a part of me.

2001: White Stripes

OK, they were popular. But like the Police, I loved the aesthetic, you know? I loved the Black Keys, too, and I mainly stayed out of that silly little pop culture slapfight, but the White Stripes largely won that war because they looked cool and had a cool story. They were cool in a way I never was, and never will be.

2002: Mclusky

I hated post-9/11 pop culture. Hell, I hate posted 9/11 culture. It was all cloying bullshit from the left and hateful bigotry from the right. I’ve never been a “smile on your brother” type. I try not be an asshole, but I can’t do a disingenuous group hug. And then came Mclusky, a gloriously profane and offensive band that pounded out huge, stupid riffs. I loved that they made it okay to enjoy songs like Lightsaber Cocksucking Blues.

2003: Fountains of Wayne

I am a sucker for power pop. One of the worst things about 21st century pop music is the death of the pop band. I genuinely enjoy a band that can write a catchy tune and then play something we can all enjoy. Fountains of Wayne is the last great pop band and… damn it, another tragedy a few years down the line.

2004: Drive-by Truckers

My marriage was falling apart, and I was about to move away from native Maryland back south the following year. This helped pave the way. My dad had died suddenly a few years earlier, and I never really confronted it until now… Daddy’s Cup meant more to me than you can know.

Still one of my favorite bands ever. I still ask myself, What Would Cooley Do?

2005: The New Pornographers

I got divorced, moved to Texas, and started law school. And the only thing keeping the veneer of happiness in my life was a power pop indie rock supergroup from Canada. I needed that pop sheen to hold on to because I had nothing else.

2006: The Hold Steady

An overly literate band who links all of their songs together into one huge storytelling tableau? Be still my heart! Where have you been all of my life? I saw them at the patio at Emo’s, and almost passed out from the heat. It was worth it. They are still one of the great loves of my life.

2007: Modest Mouse

There are few things I love more in music than tempo changes. I am a total mark for that Pixies softLOUDsoft bullshit. And yeah, I sort of missed on the Pixies when they were active, only catching them at the tail end of their career right when things imploded (Trompe le Monde is underrated, dammit!), but by contrast… I was in on Modest Mouse on the ground floor. Yeah, this is when they got big, but I’m also a sucker for the “sellout” album that is secretly great. OK, they weren’t making Teeth Like God’s Sunshine anymore, and that is sort of a one-off kind of event, but the same album that attracted millions of unsuspecting fans with Float On also included songs like Bukowski and Bury Me With It. But also… I firmly believe there is no band more American than Modest Mouse. A brilliant poet, singing about the commodification of the frontier on top of thrashing punk rock guitars and thunderous drum fills. It is a band for lunkheads and artists, and those of us who pretend to be both.

2008: Frightened Rabbit

I saw them as an opening act and the entire audience ran, literally ran, to the merch table to buy their record. But Keep Yourself Warm was a song that spoke to exactly where I was in my life at the time. They were right, I couldn’t find love in a hole. A decade later, Scott Hutchinson would take his own life, and its the celebrity death that most affected me. His depression didn’t make him great, it robbed us of years of his genius. It makes me sad to this day.

2009: The Thermals

Three chords and a cloud of dust. I was finding my happy place again and yeah, their songs could drift to the angry side, but man… it was always under a catchy as hell hook. Hooks rule, man. Don’t be such a snob. This shit is supposed to be fun.

2010: Titus Andronicus

I’m not gonna say The Monitor is the greatest album ever made, I’m just gonna say its the album that was most seemingly made for me. Overly long punk rock songs bookended by Lincoln quotes? What god did I please?

2011: Cage the Elephant

Man, what a dismal year for music. Remember the Tuneyards? Blog rock was probably at its peak, but it was just an ugly year of forgettable records. Seriously, check the Pazz and Jop poll from that year. Ugh. Cage was at least fun, if inconsequential.

2012: Cloud Nothings

That first side of Attack On Memory is so perfect. We saw them in Austin at Fun Fun Fun Fest and some kid tried to stagedive but no one caught him. I’m not gonna lie, I laughed. At least it was on grass.

2013: Dismemberment Plan

My first wife left me the same night I had tickets to see the Plan. I didn’t go the show that night, for obvious reasons, and they went on hiatus shortly thereafter, though I doubt it had anything to do with me personally. Still, seeing the Plan became a bit of a white whale for me. They got back together, put out some new music, and in 2013… I finally got to scream along to The Ice of Boston with hundreds of my new best friends.

2014: Sturgill Simpson

When I still fancied myself a punk rocker as a teenager, my dad walked in on me listening to REM and asked, “Since when do you like country?” Dropping the bomb, Dad. But it taught me to not be such a stickler about genre divisions and to be maybe be open to other genres… like country. I’m not saying this is when I first started listening to country, see the Drive-by Truckers above, but this is when I fully embraced the fact, unironically, I liked country music. But in my same snobby way. Only the good country music.

2015: Courtney Barnett

There’s nothing like a debut. Whether its someone’s first record or book or movie… that first thing just hints at all of the future promise and what they one day might achieve. I love the hopeful sound of potential. One of my favorite debut records ever, this also fully locked in an era of dynamic female singer-songwriters taking over not just pop music, but indie rock as well.

2016: Car Seat Headrest

Yeah, there’s all of the industry gossip and the issues of trying to sample the Cars, but I’m not an insider. I don’t care all that much, even if I clearly noticed the appropriation of Just What I Needed. But this was a band that so beautifully and honestly tackled depression, something I’ve struggled with my whole life. It spoke to me. “You have no right to be depressed/ You haven’t tried hard enough to like it.” It was like hearing my mother. I’m so sick of fill in the blank.

2017: Charly Bliss

Then I veered right back to power pop. Josie and the Pussycats aren’t a real band, but if they were, I like to imagine that would sound exactly like this. And I needed the damn smile.

2018: Camp Cope

They were great. And she made me think of my dad. I miss him.

2019: PUP

The return of great pop-punk! I saw them at a show in Dallas, at which I had to be the oldest person in the audience by a good decade. And before the show, I asked one of the kids if they still slam danced. Oh, yeah. They slam danced with abandon. It was beautiful.

2020: Man Man

The COVID year was awful. I feel we’ve all sort of purged it from our memories like some bad dream, but we were trapped in our homes and we couldn’t be with others or socialize at all. They made a series of those long-distance videos, and they never failed to make me smile.

2021: Cheekface

America’s local band! Adorably lo-fi, they seem like a band lost in time. Like the 1990s tucked away one group and sent them flash forward to the future to remind us of us hwat a special moment in time that was. They reminded me of my youth without making me feel old. They took me back in time without being nostalgic.

2022: Miranda Lambert

Geraldine, man. It’s one thing to namecheck Jolene. It’s another to appropriate the melody and basically tell everyone what you are doing. She compared herself to Dolly, and it didn’t even come off as egotistical. She’s the country music giant of our time.

2023: Ashley McBryde

I don’t know who decides these things, but Ashley McBryde never got the glow up from country artist to Americana, so she’s not as officially cool. Such is the importance of labels. She’s the right genre label away from being as revered as Jason Isbell, but instead she has to settle for selling a whole shit ton of records. She’s played with the genre, releasing a concept record and then an arena-country record in the mold of Shania Twain or Garth Brooks. I get a real kick out of her career, which is just a giant fuck you to everyone. But the song are great.

2024: Turnstile

The first genuinely great punk band since…. I don’t even know when. They took me back to Fugazi and even moreso, lesser bands like Shudder to Think or Dag Nasty, who we all loved just as intensely back in the day. My wife told me she was seeing other women after a Turnstile show, which I don’t hold against the band, but do hold against her, like she was trying to ruin my good night out.

2025: Wet Leg

Know what is almost as good as that promising debut? A sophomore effort that shows the first one wasn’t a fluke. Wet Leg’s first record is basically an inside joke we got let in on, so its cool that their second record is actually good. Even if it is surprising. Half a century in, that’s the part I love. I love being surprised. There’s so much to be surprised by.