October 12th
album anniversaries

“Big Shot” opens 52nd Street with a sneer; “Honesty” soon pulls the record into a much more exposed setting. Billy Joel’s 1978 album moves easily between those moods, with “My Life” supplying another of its immediately recognisable hooks.

The album rewards going beyond that opening run. “Zanzibar” brings a different rhythmic feel, while “Until The Night” lets the drama grow at a slower pace. Joel’s characters can be difficult company, but the melodies keep inviting you back into the room.

“I’m Every Woman” gives Chaka Khan’s solo debut an opening that needs little introduction. The record arrived in 1978, putting her voice at the centre of arrangements that leave plenty of room for its changes in weight and colour.

The single can easily dominate a memory of the album. A full play lets the surrounding songs restore some proportion: the voice is the constant, while the pace and setting move around it. The attraction is hearing how much expression Khan can put into the shape of a phrase.

U2’s second album opens with “Gloria”, its searching vocal set against the Edge’s ringing guitar. October arrived in 1981, while the group was still finding ways to turn its urgency into songs.

The title track offers a striking change of scale. Piano and a brief vocal replace the force heard elsewhere, giving the middle of the album a moment of stillness. That quieter passage helps make the surrounding restlessness audible; the record has more than one way of reaching for an answer.

Lloyd Cole and the Commotions give Rattlesnakes a lightness that makes its crowded lyrics easy to underestimate. “Perfect Skin” and the title song pair sharp phrases with melodies that do not need the references explained before they work.

“Forest Fire” allows the guitar more room, while “Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken?” brings the album to its close. Cole’s delivery rarely strains for emphasis. The arrangements provide the movement around him, letting the writing sound conversational even when the characters are tying themselves in knots.

“Into Your Arms” makes its invitation quickly, with a melody that seems to arrive already familiar. Come On Feel The Lemonheads places that directness beside Evan Dando’s more wandering moments, allowing the record to loosen up as it goes.

Released in 1993, it followed It’s A Shame About Ray into a much larger spotlight. The songs still work at a personal scale. “The Great Big No” and “It’s About Time” have the kind of hooks that make an unhurried vocal feel especially persuasive.

“Shoop”, “Whatta Man” and “None Of Your Business” give Very Necessary three quite different ways of taking charge. Salt-N-Pepa’s fourth album balances flirtation, vocal warmth and the insistence that other people’s judgements do not get the final word.

The singles are strong enough to overshadow the record around them. Heard together, they also show its range: playful exchanges can sit beside a firmer statement without losing the rhythm. The voices carry that confidence as much through their timing as through what they say.