Desert island special

I wanna be cool and say that eclecticism is the sign of a sophisticated musical palate, but I think I just like stuff I can sing along to or turn up really loud, and I don't much discriminate based on genre. But in a desert island situation, it's safe to say I'm gonna want a little of everything...

* The Beatles, The White Album: Always safe to start with the basics. For me, this album has it all--and maybe if I were stranded long enough, I might finally listen to "Revolution 9" all the way through without fast-forwarding.

* Beastie Boys, Licensed to Ill: 'Cause you just can't go anywhere without it.

* Pixies, Surfer Rosa: Every time I play this tape in my car, I don't take it out until at least 200 miles later--why should it be any less awesome on a desert island?

* A Tribe Called Quest, The Low End Theory: This album is so smooth, it would take the edge off any sunburn, sea gale, or spider bite that should ever come my way.

* Dance Hall Crashers, The Old Album: Unlikely as it seems, some guy would probably find a way to discover the island and fuck me over during his sojourn--and then what would I do without the sugar 'n' spice and everything cynical lyrics of these Chicago skastresses?

* Ella Fitzgerald, Cole Porter Songbook: No one hits a note dead center like Ella, and no one navigates the English language more effortlessly than Cole (except maybe Shakespeare & Dr. Seuss, but they didn't write songs).

* Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Concerto for Flute and Harp: This piece occupies a position in my childhood canon as hallowed as Goodnight, Moon.

* Afro-Cuban All-Stars, A Toda Cuba Le Gusta: Nothin' like having a private Latin dance party with Don Ruben Gonzalez, and now I won't have to worry about anyone walking in on us.

* Janis Joplin with Big Brother & the Holding Company, Cheap Thrills: 'Cause she's too badass to leave behind.

* Bob Dylan, Nashville Skyline: I don't care if Bob Dylan sounds like his larynx was dragged over a cheese grater; I was raised on this album.

* Tom Waits, The Early Years, Vol. 2: While we're on the subject of larynxes and cheese graters, I'll listen to a sweet-voiced, 19-year-old Tom Waits wax wise beyond his years until my deserted bones turn to dust.

* Billie Holiday, The Original Decca Recordings: Do I really need to justify this?

* Phish, A Picture of Nectar: Okay so I'm a big dork, but who knows what kind of flora are native to this island?

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