I began responding to Martin's comment on the 125 Songs Before Pearl Jam, and it turned into this:

Paul Carrack? Allmusic.com calls him "pop music's ultimate journeyman," saying "his finest work often came at the expense of his own identity as a performer."

I agree, this Englishman first came into prominence in the heat of late 70s prog-rock with the band Ace. Their wonderfully cured song "How Long" has helped me through more than one lonely night.

It was his solo song "Don't Shed a Tear" I remember loving most as a scabby-kneed tike.

However, I remember Mike & the Mechanics as a band who produced seemingly flawless pop music with a hint of message. "The Living Years" and "All I Need is a Miracle" were both on heavy rotation around the Wastler household in the middle 80s.

And yet, his work for the band Squeeze is what I think he's most often recognized for thanks to the Ben Stiller-helmed flick Reality Bites, at a time when Carrack had reconnected with the band to rerecord their biggest hit (at least with him at the wheel. I also like "Black Coffee in Bed"), "Tempted."

That being said, there's something in his voice that's both saccharine and earnest. It's as put-on as Elvis Costello, and it's as blue-eyed soul as Daryl Hall. And you can't go wrong with either of those.

Ok, so perhaps you can. "You Make My Dreams Come True" still pangs a sharp pain in the heel of my velcroed Reeboks every time I imagine his acid-washed jean dance. That's what it was: a Hall-a-palooza of tapered-jean tawdriness.

As for the Flaming Lips, you're right about their post Ten status. And like I said, there are several post Ten songs, but none ventures into my high school years when - let's face it - music snobbery begins to take shape.

I was attempting to find the purest music to represent myself after having read some other bloggers' posts about their first loves, musically speaking, and feeling their selections were a bit wonky.

Most appeared to be filled with the pretensions of a post-Pearl Jam/post-Nirvana/post-Soul Garden/post-STP/post-whatever grunge band you first connected with viewpoint.

In other words, I felt these people weren't revisiting themselves as they were before the plaid, before the butt-cuts, before the hiking boots, black jeans, and dirty caps. They were allowing all these things - and more - to inform their decisions. I am totally opposed to this. It's as though music's influence on the twenty-something's life began in 1995. I know Ten was released in 1991, and that's when I received it, but I wasn't really weened off my taste for heavy duty pop music until, well, I'm still not off it, clearly. Point is, high school began for me in '95, and it was then that I started listening to music for more than just the armrest thumping songs to listen to in the car. I was searching for something beyond that which life offers. I was looking to enhance life.

I'm of the opinion life, that of the music-lover, began much, much earlier. One of my earliest memories is singing Springsteen and Glen Campbell, Willie Nelson and the Pointer Sisters while staying with my extended family - my parents out frolicking, attempting to enjoy the last few available years of youthful exuberation, and probably conceiving my brother - I hope no one is offended by that image.

I remember JT, MJ, Billy Joel, and Whitney Houston overtaking our roadtrips to Kansas City and Colorado. I very vividly recall the cassette tape travel kit strewn about the back seat of my dad's Porsche filled with summertime favorites: The Diamond, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Jim Croce, and even The Material Girl (although pop'd never admit it).

This is when music first infused my soul, took over my body, and turned me into something bigger than I could ever be alone.

I remember breakdancing with Andy Bradshaw in my navy blue Member's Only jacket on the carpet of our basement floor while listening to Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson. Royce Mitchell and I used to have a radio show in his basement on our First Sonys. He would always, always play "Rock & Roll All Night" by Kiss. I was maybe five at the time. This was music.

I watched the USA for Africa video of "We are the World" again last night (thank you, Martin). We used to have it on VHS. I wore that thing raw. James Ingram, Sheila E, and Lindsey Buckingham are still my favorite sights in the bizarre vid. Yeah, yeah, Akroyd was there, but he was still musically valid: the Blues Brothers hadn't too many years earlier broken the top 40, and he was buds with all those cats no small thanks to LA's star-heavy drug scene. That video, in all its weirdness with MJ getting special filters, hair & makeup, and what I'm sure is not the first and certainly not the last gawdy, bejeweled military costume, with the cheap-o Hanes Beefy-Tees all the other performers were forced to wear, with Bob Dylan's studied "I've lost my singing voice" immitation, and just mainly with too much Springsteen and not enough Warwick, was AWESOME! It's a special day when you can get all those personalities into one room, especially after having to sit through Dick Clark's not-so-rockin' American Music Awards.

If you have the chance, check that out. Check out Paul Carrack.

That's all the links I have time for kids. I hope you found this entry as fun to read as I did to write. Happy Valentine's Day.