Desert island discs

By Julia Dahl

For some, this exercise may be just a fantasy, but this A&E writer spent the fall and winter of 1997 on a desert island known as Fresno, Calif. Having limited space and resources, here goes:

* R.E.M., Murmur: A girl must always have some R.E.M., and the beginning is a very good place to start. After all the years, the haircuts, the plugged-in and unplugged gimmicks, "Radio Free Europe" remains their most solid, catchy, rock 'n' roll song. Alternative when alternative meant different. (1983)

* Liz Phair, Exile in Guyville: During my freshman year, the A&E writers fought over who got to review the new Liz Phair album. We've had the same argument twice since then. Needless to say, Liz is slacking and we're all suffering. Exile is an unabashed girl album. Men screw with Liz and she ain't afraid to say how much it hurts. From "Divorce Song," a remarkably smart retrospective on falling out of love, to "Fuck and Run," a song about my ex-boyfriend, Exile is truly different, and truly essential. (1992)

* The Golden Palaminos, Pure: In high school there were three of us who knew about The Golden Palaminos. The other two were pissed when I left, thinking I would spread my knowledge around. Little did I know then that Fresno really is a desert island, and while the others died off, I survived. (1994)

* John Hiatt, Walk On: Folk singer John Hiatt makes road music and when you're on a desert island you wanna pretend you're going somewhere. (1995)

* Tori Amos, Under the Pink: Tori Amos makes beautiful music. There's something beautiful inside this woman, something that sings through pain and pressure. Something that lets you know you're not alone. Not even in Fresno. (1994)

* Rent: I am afraid of flying. I used to hold onto my stuffed Curious George, then I saw Rent. Now I hold onto my Walkman. Now nothing can hurt me. (1995)

* Bob Dylan, Blood on the Tracks: It's not classic, but this album represents the most honest and beautiful of what has become an American phenomenon. Western folklore, Beat-inspired wandering, and love that will "make me lonesome when you go." (1975)

*The Best of John Coltrane: My folks never listened to jazz. I spent a year in the Mental Hygiene waiting room. Coincidence? (1970)

* Billie's Best: Nobody hurts quite like Billie Holiday. You get hit for long enough and you stop feeling the fist, maybe you even start wanting it. You let Billie get under your skin and you start to understand. (1992)

* Bruce Springsteen's Greatest Hits: Sometimes Fresno (um, I mean the desert island where I'm stranded with no hope of rescue) can feel like a foreign country. I want to remember America. I want to remember Bruce. (1995)

So, I'm assuming unlimited supply of batteries...

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