Anyone over 40 knows how nostalgia can creep up on us. One minute you’re the single 20-something at the concert, the next you’re a parent hearing those same songs on classic rock radio.

Pop culture loves loving back two decades. The 2000s saw an 80s resurgence, while the 90s craze of the 2010s is just now subsiding. So we’re due for a fond look-back on… 2001?

God, I’m getting old. The following rings in 2021 with the best albums of 2001, in no particular order.

10 Strange Collaborations In Music

10 Is This It (The Strokes)

The Strokes occupy an odd place in rock history. Detractors might say they were merely a decent band amid a barren post-grunge wasteland dominated by mediocre, derivative acts like The Foo Fighters and Third Eye Blind. Fans might counter that by asserting The Strokes were among a handful of bands who popularized a stripped-down, casually discordant genre loosely referred to as hipster rock.

Writing for The Village Voice – a now-defunct but once highly influential NYC weekly – Robert Christgau may have come closest to an apt description. He saw the Strokes as a “great groove band” whose “beats implode, clashing/resolving with punky brevity and gnarly faux simplicity.”

Released in July 2001, “Is This It” was the band’s debut studio album, and its most commercially successful. Propelled by front man Julian Casablancas, whose vocals alternate between low-key and grating, the albums trifecta of singles – “Hard To Explain,” “Last Nite” and “Someday” – saw significant airplay on rock stations across North America, the UK and Australia.

Notably, the album also had an impact on fashion. In the UK’s Observer, Gary Mulholland considered it a “world-changing moment” with “immediate and dramatic impact” on both music and attire, while BBC Radio 1’s Zane Lowe suggests the album moved popular opinion from DJs and pop music to “skinny jeans and guitars.”

9 So Addictive (Miss E. Elliott)

The date was February 1, 2015, and Katy Perry was midway through the worst Super Bowl halftime show in history. She was strutting around with a bunch of dancing beach balls and sharks, for God’s sake.

Then one of the most talented female performers ever swooped in to save the day. Emerging through smoke, the trademark Timbaland beat erupted over the sound system, and Miss E. Elliott began a vintage, flawless version of “Get Ur Freak On.”

The smash hit, nominated for a Grammy in the Best R&B Song category, was the first single off Elliott’s third studio album, “So Addictive.” Released in May 2001, the album debuted at number two on the charts, selling a quarter million copies its first week en route to a million by mid-summer. The radio couldn’t get enough hits from “So Addictive,” whose four additional singles included “Lick Shots,” “Take Away,” “4 My People” and “One Minute Man” featuring Ludacris and Trina.

Critically, not a dissenting voice could be found. “So Addictive” boasts an 89/100 on critic aggregator Metacritic, with 16 positive reviews and exactly no negative ones (in fact, there aren’t even any “mixed” reviews). Playlouder sums Miss E.’s genius up well: “It’s not so much her actual rapping skills but her keen ear for a devastatingly simple track structure that makes her stuff so satisfying.” Almost anyone, including Michelle Obama, would agree with that sentiment.

8 White Blood Cells (The White Stripes)

Along with The Strokes, Jack and Meg White, a.k.a. The White Stripes, were the best of the post-alternative hipster rock scene that emerged in the early 2000s. Released in July 2001, “White Blood Cells” was the third album from the prolific duo in as many years, and arguably its best; in 2012, Rolling Stone ranked it #497 on its list of the Top 500 Albums of All Time.

The group’s first substantial commercial success, “White Blood Cells” showcases the diversity and playfulness of the duo, ranging between traditional rock and folksy, almost country-sounding ditties. An example of the latter would be “Hotel Yorba,” which despite being the first song released from the album would draw wider notice only in hindsight.

Rather, it was the album’s second single, “Fell in Love with a Girl,” that put the White Stripes on the mainstream map. The track exemplifies several of the band’s calling cards, including Jack’s inventive guitar playing and high-pitched voice and Meg’s intentionally carefree drum banging – which former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl praises as standing apart from the tidier, more metronome-esque style that has taken root.

In the album’s third single, “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground,” the pair sway between soft crooning and hard guitar riffs. Its fourth, “We’re Going to Be Friends,” imagines two schoolchildren walking to class with a simple, quiet melody that could be enjoyed anywhere from a rock station to Sesame Street.

7 The Blueprint (Jay-Z)

In 2001, the era’s best rapper released his latest album on the worst day of the year: September 11. For countless commuters – myself included – walking purposefully north from downtown Manhattan’s financial district (the subway was promptly closed), an oddball memory is the huge cardboard cut-outs in front of record stores. Jigga was back.

“The Blueprint” is arguably the greatest album from a rapper undoubtedly on the short list of greatest ever. A departure from the straightforward hip-hop beats at which he’d already excelled, “The Blueprint” sees Jay-Z sampling funk classics and adapting his unsurpassed lyricism accordingly. In “Heart of the City,” which samples Bobby Bland’s 1974 hit “Ain’t No Love,” Jay-Z cleverly places himself above the day’s rap rivalries: “Look scrappa I got nephews to look afta / So I ain’t lookin’ at you dudes I’m lookin’ past ya.” In “The Takeover,” he treats a feud with Nas like the child’s play it truly is to someone of Jay-Z’s stature: “The Takeova, the race ova, homey / God MC, me, J-Hova.”

A gifted storyteller, Jay-Z looks back on his drug-dealing days in “Renegade,” featuring a then-upstart Eminem. “By the bodega, iron under my coat / Feelin’ braver, doo rag wrappin’ my waves up, pockets full of hope.”

The Blueprint went double platinum, received a rare Five Mics rating from The Source, and in 2020 Rolling Stone ranked it the 50th best album of all time. Jay-Z capped off the year by going acoustic with The Roots in one of the best MTV Unplugged performances to date.

6 Word of Mouf (Ludacris)

Released in late November 2001, the third studio album from Atlanta rapper Ludacris took him from an artist respected within his genre to an internationally known superstar.

“Word of Mouf” is intentionally grandiose, dripping with a club-friendly braggadocio; Jason Birchmeier of AllMusic aptly called it a “superstar affair that aims for mass appeal.” Ludacris’ sole goal is blowing up and, as a result, many of the gritty, personal effects showcased on previous efforts fade to the background. In the foreground, however, is undeniable hip-hop brilliance. The album is so good that its boastfulness seems warranted, leaving listeners too busy nodding their heads to shake them in dismissiveness.

Ludacris is unapologetically out to get money, get laid and get into brawls. The album’s first single, “Area Codes,” finds Big Luda cruising around the country in a G4 treating lucky ladies “with perpendicular, vehicular ho-micide.” “The next single, “Rollout,” is a chest-thumping look-at-me-now anthem. “Where’d you get that platinum chain with them diamonds in it?,” he raps mockingly, “Where’d you get that matching Benz with them windows tinted?”

“Word of Mouf” went triple platinum, and was so huge that its fourth single, “Move Bitch,” became a summer smash the FOLLOWING YEAR. It took 2002’s “The Eminem Show” to deny it a Grammy.

10 Crazy Characters From The Wild World Of Music

5 Weezer (Weezer)

Also known as “The Green Album,” the self-titled release was Weezer’s third overall but the first following a five-year hiatus. After scoring big with hits like “Buddy Holly” and “Say It Ain’t So” on their 1994 debut album, Weezer hit a sophomore sales slump with the darker (though to many more mature) 1996 follow-up, “Pinkerton.”

“The Green Album” takes pages from both predecessors, blending alt-pop with punkish punch. In the latter category falls its first single, “Hash Pipe.” While the title hints at defiant teenage pot-smoking, the song is actually about a transvestite prostitute coping with the profession’s indignities. “You’ve got your problems,” Rivers Cuomo croons in his moany, made-for-rock voice, “I’ve got my eyes wide. You’ve got your big Gs / I’ve got my hash pipe.”

Showcasing a dichotomy that might seem schizophrenic were it not for each song’s standalone appeal, the album’s next single, “Island in the Sun,” is the exact opposite. The sing-songy, strum-guitar ditty could be the soundtrack for a Caribbean tourism commercial. Fittingly, “Photograph” deftly marries the two, starting pep rally then drowning the pop with heavy guitars.

In Rolling Stone, music critic Rob Sheffield called the album “a totally crunk geek-punk record, buzzing through ten excellent tunes in less than half an hour, with zero filler.” Despite its contrasting styles, the effort showed a depth and diversity to what some see as an under-appreciated band.

4 Songs in A Minor (Alicia Keys)

It isn’t often a 20-year-old dropping her first LP wins Grammys for Song of the Year and Album of the Year, but that’s exactly what Alicia Keys did. Anchored by lead single “Fallin’,” which reached number one in the US, UK, New Zealand and several Western European countries, “Songs in A Minor” is among the most well-received debuts in R&B history.

“Fallin’” is one of those songs that becomes so popular it drowns out an album’s ensuing singles, but Keys proved far from a one-hit wonder. “Songs in A Minor” generated three additional radio releases. One, “A Woman’s Worth,” also reached number one on the US R&B charts, while the subsequent “How Come You Don’t Call Me” and “Girlfriend” also saw reasonable amounts of airplay.

Critically, a major theme was Keys’ beyond-her-years musical maturity. Writing for USA Today, Steve Jones noted that “Keys already has a musical, artistic and thematic maturity that many more experienced artists never achieve,” while Uncut called the album “frequently stunning” and compared Keys to “a young Aretha Franklin.” High praise indeed.

Though her career since “Songs in A Minor” hasn’t quite measured up to the Queen of Soul, Keys has had a slew of successful efforts and another mega-hit, 2009’s “Empire State of Mind.” The homage to New York co-stars legendary rapper and current list-mate Jay-Z.

3 The Royal Tenenbaums Soundtrack (various artists)

One of Wes Anderson’s finest films was anchored by far and away the best soundtrack of any motion picture released in 2001. The album weaves in original scores by prominent composer Mark Mothersbaugh, along with a mood-appropriate mix of songs from contemporary and classic-rock artists. The latter category includes mainstream acts like Bob Dylan, the Clash and Velvet Underground.

Both the song selection and Anderson’s use of them are masterful. In one scene, singer Nico performs a stripped-down version of Jackson Browne’s “These Days” as Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow) gets off a bus. In slow motion, she moves toward her brother Richie (Luke Wilson), who is secretly in love with his adopted sibling. Later, a private eye reveals Margot’s sexual exploits to her estranged husband as the Ramones’ “Judy is a Punk” blares.

The most disturbing and perfectly paired song is saved for Richie’s attempted suicide. At a mirror, he chops off his thick locks and shaves his equally thick beard before turning the razor to his wrists. All the while, “Needle in the Hay” by Elliott Smith – a haunting song about the gifted songwriter’s lifelong struggle with drugs – strums as the scene switches from bathroom to emergency room. “You know what he did,” sings Smith, “but you idiot kid / you don’t have a clue.”

Elliott Smith, who died in 2003 at age 34, also is prominently featured (six songs) on the soundtrack to 1997’s Good Will Hunting. One track, “Miss Misery,” was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Song.

2 Gorillaz (The Gorillaz)

One of 2001’s top summer hits was, of all things, a hip-hop/funk song by a British band with no faces. “I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad / I got sunshine in a bag,” it begins, deceptively childishly, “I’m useless, but not for long / the future is coming on.”

That song, “Clint Eastwood,” was the first single off the self-titled debut album from the Gorillaz, a UK virtual band. Also called cartoon bands, the term refers to a group whose members are not depicted as actual, physical musicians, but rather animated characters or avatars. Hence, the future coming on.

Oxymoronically, a band committed to having no human faces was fronted by the lead singer of a previously popular group – Damon Albarn of Blur, which rose to prominence in 1997 with the hit “Woo-Hoo.” Gimmicky or not, the Gorillaz were more than publicity-stunt anonymity. Displaying an impressive blend of new age, punk and hip-hop elements, the band followed up its summer smash with three additional singles: “19-2000,” Rock the House” and “Tomorrow Comes Today.”

Typically for so unique a project, the album received mixed reviews. Pitchfork called it a “conceptual failure,” while L.A. Weekly called it “hands down one of the best-produced albums of the year.” Regardless, the LP helped earn the Gorillaz an oddball distinction: the Guinness World Record for Most Successful Virtual Band.

1 Love and Theft (Bob Dylan)

The album on this list that received the least airplay was made by one of the most famous musicians of all time: Bob Dylan, whose 2001 LP “Love and Theft” ranks among his best. The Village Voice’s Robert Christgau compared “Love and Theft” to Dylan’s previous, less well-received effort: “If ‘Time Out of Mind’ was his death album… this is his immortality album.”

As with much of his catalogue, social justice is top of mind on “Love and Theft,” whose title was inspired by a 1993 book chronicling blackface minstrelsy in America. On “High Water,” Dylan dives into the American South’s deeply troubling racial history, and describes blues singing as a means of showcasing the biases ingrained in the region’s societal structure.

The final track, “Sugar Baby,” is a lengthy, classically-Dylan ballad, drenched in echoes and spattered with apocalyptic lyrics. “Just as sure as we’re living, just as sure as you’re born,” Dylan’s trademark nasally voice mocks, “Look up, seek your maker ‘fore Gabriel blows his horn.” Music critic Tim Riley praised the song as “built on a disarmingly simple riff that turns foreboding” – tragically ironic considering its release date: September 11, 2001.

“Love and Theft” won a Grammy for Best Contemporary Folk Album. In 2012, Rolling Stone placed it #385 on its 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list, while Newsweek named it the second-best album of its decade.

Top 10 Musicians Who Were Ahead Of Their Time

It’s a pretty big deal being first, but it’s an even bigger deal to be the one credited with launching a genre. In our top 10 list for today, we’ll be looking at movies that weren’t necessarily the first of their kind but were, rather, influential enough to standardize industry-genre standards. We’re talking about everything from themes to industry practices. And of course, all of these movies hyped up audiences, producers, and directors enough that their legacies would result in a series of mainstream and cult-status films that we still enjoy today. 

10 Metropolis (1927)

Fritz Lang’s 1927 classic Metropolis remains relevant in the science fiction (sci-fi) genre of futuristic possibilities. While it wasn’t the first sci-fi film, with the short film A Trip to the Moon by Georges Méliès released in 1902, it was the first feature-length film that transcended filmmaking during its time. 

The film’s futuristic approach included superhighways, large skyscrapers, robots, and underground machines, which set a standard for what sci-fi should involve. It has influenced multiple films and comic book artists following it. For example, the robot-woman in Metropolis inspired Star Wars’ beloved C-3PO droid. The creators of Superman, Jerry Siegal and Joe Shuster, loved the film so much they credited Metropolis’ creative futuristic cityscape as the inspiration for Superman’s home. 

Metropolis’ social message and characters are also relatable nearly 100 years later. We’re reminded of the importance of empathy and mediation by exploring how one can have good intentions to help without the right information to create change. The Thin Man character also manipulates information for personal gain – similar to modern social media trolls. It seems this film really did project into the future.

9 Frankenstein (1931)

Sometimes dubbed “The King of All Monsters,” Dr. Frankenstein’s monster is a slightly misunderstood iconic image. 

Unlike most famous Halloween monsters, Frankenstein’s monster originates from an 1818 book by Mary Shelley. The original Frankenstein monster was sensitive and intelligent, only becoming murderous after Dr. Frankenstein refused to create him a companion. 

While the book’s first film adaptation was in 1823, we owe it to Universal Studios for Frankenstein’s explosion of popularity. In 1931, James Whale (“The Invisible Man”) directed Frankenstein with Boris Karloff (“The Mummy”) playing the monster. 

Narratives involving “monsters” with emotions and the relationship of a creator and their “monster” inspired multiple filmmakers years following. For example, the 1987 cult classic RoboCop by Paul Verhoeven (“Hollow Man”) is about a dead police officer turned cyborg whose memories start haunting him. In the 1982 Blade Runner, we see creations rebelling against an uncaring creator. The list of movies influenced by Frankenstein goes on with Edward Scissorhands in 1990 and Upgrade in 2018.

8 Peeping Tom (1960)

When it comes to slasher movies characterized by killers using blades to slash a group of people, Peeping Tom takes the cake. It’s terrifyingly creepy, features themes ahead of its time, and has multiple people dying from a bladed camera tripod. 

While Halloween, released in 1978, was mainstream and helped popularize the slasher genre, it’s far from the first slasher. The 1960 Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock (“Vertigo”) isn’t really slasher enough. It is more akin to a psychological horror drama. 

In Peeping Tom, the cameraman Mark Lewis (Karlheinz Böhm, “Sissi”) closes in on his female victims and films their expressions as they die. Although this film is iconic today and had great camera work and scenes looking more like a 70s creation, it actually ended Michael Powell’s (“Stairway to Heaven”) directing career.

How? Not because it was bad. In fact, even Hitchcock had shots inspired by the film in his sequence of Vertigo. It was because Powell introduced the voyeurism theme to the big screen. Viewers just weren’t ready to accept his showcasing of a taboo but human trait: the curiosity of watching others’ lives.

7 Night of the Living Dead (1968)

Since George A. Romero’s (“Monkey Shines”) feature debut of Night of the Living Dead (NOTLD) in 1968, horror movies were never the same again. Why? Because it introduced a new kind of monster and triggered a whole new subgenre of horror known as zombie films.

From the 1974 Let Sleeping Corpses Lie to The Walking Dead TV series and Resident Evil game and film, NOTLD has influenced entertainment for decades. People’s reactions to these nearly unstoppable flesh-eating monsters are also part of what makes NOTLD so interesting, inspiring, and scary. 

Let’s not forget, the film represents more than just zombies by being one of the first independent films to earn success outside a Hollywood studio. It provided an early example of crowdfunding that remains a model for indie horror filmmaking. A revolution so many owe thanks to. 

6 Enter the Dragon (1973)

Yes, other martial arts movies came before Enter the Dragon in 1973. However, the plotlines and dialogue were typically weak and there was no fascination with the lead man. Robert Clouse’s directing (“Dragon”) and Bruce Lee’s (“Fist of Fury”) screen presence and stunning fight sequences changed all this. 

With yowls, shrieks, knuckle-cracking, and inflating torsos, Bruce Lee captured the audience’s attention and launched the popularity of the Kung Fu film globally. Enter the Dragon earned $350 million worldwide, which is over $1 billion today if you consider inflation! This is especially significant since Wuxia, a genre of martial artist adventures, was banned in China for around 50 years until 1980. 

Stars such as Jackie Chan (“Rush Hour”) often talk about their respect for Bruce Lee and how he influenced them in their careers. Lee also gave Chuck Norris’ (“The Expendables 2”) his movie debut in 1972 and Norris has since starred in multiple martial arts films, including Enter the Dragon. It’s hard to imagine action martial art films without these stars!

5 Snow White (1934)

Disney’s Snow White was risky, it was colorful, and it was groundbreaking. In 1934, Walt Disney got up in front of his cohort and proposed creating 80-minutes of animation. The subject was none other than “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.” No other studio had attempted it and Hollywood was entirely skeptical of the project.

Disney raised ten times the amount of money than a studio would get for a short; he sent his animators back to school to study motion. The studio brought in live actors, filmed their motion, and painstakingly traced each frame. They even created over 1000 shades of paint for the project.

The entire project went insanely over-budget and so many people doubted its success. But we all know how it turned out: really well.

Because of Snow White, studios ventured out into new territory. We saw an increasing interest in the princess, specifically, the Disney princess. It not only launched a genre, it launched an entire empire!

4 Connery Era James Bond (1960s)

“Shaken, not stirred.” That’s how James Bond likes his cocktails, and essentially what the early James Bond films did to the world of action. They introduced the car chases, the technology, the sexy spy and the even sexier female leads. Not consent, though. Yeah…definitely not that.

Anyway…

After the premiere of Dr. No, action films became the way we worked out political tensions. The bad guys were our Cold War enemies, the inventions our badass technology. The good guy only sort of followed the rules and our villains held us captive with near-ridiculous schemes. 

James Bond made action exciting, and that is a major understatement.

3 The Maltese Falcon (1941)

The Femme Fatales, the curling of cigarette smoke, Humphrey Bogart…it must be a film noir. The Maltese Falcon, released in 1941, is considered by many film enthusiasts to be the film that shaped “film noir.” 

It has the cynical, quick-talking characters, the mood lighting, the um, questionable, moral backbone? There really is no moral accuracy in a film noir. It’s a sultry, messy, black-and-white mystery, with our protagonist stuck between what is right and wrong.

The story of The Maltese Falcon is a simple one. Detective Sam Spade (Bogart) takes on the case of a mysterious woman. Shortly after she enters the scene, Sam’s partner is killed and he winds up on a search for the Maltese Falcon, a much-desired jewel.

But a film noir isn’t always a detective story. Historically, we bundle the occupation with the genre…because of…*wait for it*…The Maltese Falcon, yes, that’s right! The movie gave us the formula, the mood; it shifted the detective movie genre and showed us that the way to Hell is, in fact, paved with good intentions.

2 Broadway Melody (1929)

When it comes to “talkies,” 1929’s Broadway Melody is not the first. We can thank 1927’s culturally relevant and problematic The Jazz Singer for that. But “The Jazz Singer” isn’t the movie we usually equate with big, bawdy show tunes, flashy choreography, and happy-go-lucky endings. 

That belongs to Broadway Melody.

Broadway Melody is chock-full of recognizable music, including “Give My Regards to Broadway” and “Broadway Melody” and “You Were Meant for Me,” both used for the classic musical Singin’ in the Rain. 

The movie musical steers through its plot in true theatrical production fashion, centering around creating a Broadway musical revue. It may not be the most enthralling piece of cinema compared to everything we have access to today, but it certainly celebrates the best and the worst of those early Broadway days. It was the first talking picture to win an Oscar for Best Picture and a huge feat in film innovation with sound.

1 Meshes of the Afternoon (1943)

If you want a deep-cut experimental film that paved the way for any subsequent avant-garde undertaking, 1943’s Meshes of the Afternoon is your movie. The 18-minute short is filled to the brim with symbolism, dream-like imagery spilling into reality, and endless possibilities of interpretation.

Major filmmakers, most notable among them Kenneth Anger (“Lucifer Rising”), Ingmar Bergman (“Wild Strawberries”), and Stanley Kubrick (“The Shining”), site “Meshes” as a direct influence on their works. 

Written by Maya Deren and created with the help of her husband, cinematographer Alexander Hammid, “Meshes” doesn’t just document an incident, it explores the emotions surrounding the incident. And with emotions being what they are, the rise in popularity of Jungian and Freudian critical theory at that time, and the absence of dialogue, it makes for the perfect “trance film.”

Deren is now considered the godmother of avant-garde cinema and leaves behind a legacy of weird, trippy cinematic masterpieces that may be best watched under the influence of existential duress, caffeine-induced insomnia, and hipster-driven interest.

The expression “crime does not pay” is wrong. Crime can pay very well. The royalties off crimes can leave quite the bounty. The actions of the following ten criminals resulted in hugely popular songs that still turn a profit. Some of the most famous musicians of all time got their start from people more occupied with committing crimes.

Related: 10 Bizarre Times Musicians Got Into Trouble With The Authorities

10 Anders Klarström

Anyone that gushed over boybands in the 1990s probably did not check out the Nazi punk band Commit Suicide. Ulf Ekberg is likely the only fan in that Venn Diagram. Along with Anders Klarström—the future head of the Swedish Democrats—Ekberg used Commit Suicide to promote far-right ideology. The radical outfit was hardly poised to top the hit parade with lyrics like “Men in white hoods march down the road, we enjoy ourselves when we’re sawing off n—rs’ heads/ Immigrant, we hate you! Out, out, out, out! Nordic people, wake up now! Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!” Klarström’s violent lyrics were not artistic hyperbole. He threatened to burn Jewish theater director Hagge Geigert alive. In 1986, Klarström’s militia-like arsenal of weapons was discovered. The band disbanded after Klarström was convicted for illegal firearm possession.

Down a group, Ekberg needed a new outlet. In August of 1990, Jonas Berggren asked his friend Ekberg to temporarily replace an absent bass player. A few weeks later, the lineup became permanent. With Berggren’s two sisters singing lead, the new group was called Ace of Base. ^[1]

It is unfair to dismiss Ace of Base as a fad. The brief mania in the early ’90s was incredibly influential. The giddy maximalist sound of hits like “The Sign” or “All That She Wants” was crafted by a team of Swedish songwriters for hire. By the decade’s end, the bombastic Nordic sound dominated the airwaves. The ultimate success of that evolution is discussed further in the article.

9 Raffaele Minichiello

Technically, Raffaele Minichiello is a musician in his own right. He runs a YouTube channel showing off his accordion prowess. However, his musical skill is often ignored for a bigger claim to fame. He committed the longest airplane hijacking in world history.

On October 30, 1969, Minichiello boarded TWA Flight 85 from San Francisco to Los Angeles with an M1 rifle packed in his luggage. Gun pressed against a stewardess’s back, he ordered the plane reroute to Rome. Over the next 18 hours and 22 minutes, the flight traveled nearly 7000 miles. When he landed in Italy, he was arrested after an extensive manhunt. He only served one and half years in prison.

Among the forty passengers taken captive that night were the members of the 1960s pop group Harpers Bizarre. As a sign of good faith, Minichiello released the passengers in Denver. Upon release, reporters tailed Harpers Bizarre to get their story. Unfortunately, the band could not capitalize on their new notoriety. The previous experience made them reluctant to travel. The lack of touring caused the group to infight. Further conflicts over management forced a breakup.

One former bandmember, Ted Templeman, was now desperate for a job. Less than a year after the hijacking, Templeman started work in an entry-level A & R position for Warner Brothers Records. He listened to demo tapes sent in by unknown wannabes. Among the scores of amateurs, two acts that Templeman discovered found future success. He launched Yacht Rock forefathers The Doobie Brothers and hair metal pioneers Van Halen into the mainstream. ^[2]

8 Sabrina Jackson’s Killer

When someone dies, custom says to rest coins on their eyes. No one placed any quarters on Sabrina Jackson’s lifeless body when it was discovered in 1983. Nor did anyone find the culprit responsible. All authorities could go off was a rumor. It was hypothesized that she was murdered in a retaliatory killing over her cocaine trafficking. The assault was more calculated than the standard drive-by. A guest came into her house intending to kill. At some point, they drugged her drink. In her unconscious state, they turned on the gas and slithered out.

Her eight-year-old son Curtis was wayward. His father had abandoned him. His mother was killed in a malicious attack. His grandmother was left to watch him. Curtis felt like a strain on his elderly caretaker. To relieve some of her troubles, he brought in extra income by selling drugs. By nineteen, he ascended the ranks to become his neighborhood’s kingpin. This success came with a few stints in jail for minor offenses. When his son, Marquise, was born, he swore off the trade. He would not let his child grow up without a parent as he did. Instead, he committed to making a living on a skill he picked up in jail, rapping. [Source 6] For a career marred by death, it is appropriate that he choose a name as valuable as two quarters resting on a pair of eyes, 50 Cent. ^[3]

7 Richard Mason’s Killers

Kit Lambert never wanted to get into music. The son of a composer and actress, he thought he would have a simple life among educated high society. In May 1961, he joined two Oxford friends, Richard Mason and John Hemming, on an expedition to discover the source of the Iriri River in the Amazon. They did not succeed. On September 3, Mason went searching for some food. Unknowingly, he stumbled upon the elusive Panará tribe. Fearful of all outside contact, the cannibalistic Amazonians stabbed and killed him.^[4] Police initially arrested Lambert and Hemming on the assumption that they made the story up to get away with murder. Expedition backers from the Daily Express secured their release.

Back in England, Lambert changed careers. He became an assistant director on films, like From Russia with Love and The L-Shaped Room. On the latter’s set, he met fellow assistant director Chris Stamp. Stamp convinced Lambert to check out a band he liked called The High Numbers. Lambert and Stamp decided the group could be the subject of a potential documentary. Charmed by the backstage antics, the two eventually abandoned their filmmaking aspiration. Lambert became the band’s manager on the condition that they change their name. He suggested The Who. Kit Lambert shaped one of the greatest rock bands ever, all so that he wouldn’t be food again. Yeahhhh! ^[5]

6 Jim Gordon

As a ubiquitous session drummer in the 1970s California scene, it is impossible to count how many records bear Jim Gordon’s name. That number skyrockets if one adds samples, if for just one track. Dubbed “the national anthem of hip-hop,” his near-universal drum break on the Incredible Bongo Band’s cover of “Apache” has been sampled more than seven hundred times. His handiwork propelled two of the most consequential artists in early hip-hop. Popularized by DJ Kool Herc, “Apache” was the go-to party starter of Herc’s legendary merry-go-rounds. It was an omnipresent sound at hip-hop’s unofficial big bang. When “Grand Wizzard” Theodore pioneered turntablism, the first album he scratched was “Apache.” Jim Gordon’s beat carried the next 40 years of music. But his presence brings a dark legacy.

Decades of drug use destroyed Gordon’s mental health. He retired from music after imaginary voices started haunting him. After a series of violent outbursts, he was sent to a psychiatric hospital. Upon his release in 1983, he became convinced that his mother was sending these messages to torture him. She had to be silenced, permanently. After bludgeoning her with a hammer, he stabbed her to death. As of 2021, he remains committed to a mental hospital.^[6]

5 King Ludwig II

King Ludwig II’s obsession with fairy tales prevented him from living happily ever after. As the ruler of Bavaria, Ludwig II wasted government funds constructing whimsical castles. Even as Prussians sieged his kingdom, he sank resources on ostentatious designs. One castle included an indoor cave on top of a man-made lake, so he would have a proper setting to dress up as his favorite opera character. Another building, Neuschwanstein, served as an architectural template for Disney World’s enchanting Cinderella Castle. There was a reason Ludwig was so drawn toward opulence. He believed he was the reincarnation of King Louis XIV of France.

Proclaiming himself a vessel for the Sun King’s spirit caused advisors to worry over his mental health. Other actions gave them pause too. He grew utterly obsessed with swans, carving the bird on every wall of his house. He talked to invisible courtiers for hours at a time. His eccentricities eventually grew more violent. He stole a citizen’s purse, strangled his brother with a rope, and orchestrated a bank robbery. Finally, in 1886, the government declared him insane. The day after he was deposed, his corpse was found floating in a pond. The doctor who diagnosed his insanity was also dead. The mysterious circumstances of the deaths have caused historians to speculate. Physicians, at the time, concluded that Ludwig killed the doctor and then drowned himself. However, conspiracies still abound.

Whatever happened to Ludwig that night cannot undo his positive impact on music history. A closeted homosexual, Ludwig showered composer Richard Wagner with gifts and money to earn his affection. Wagner denied the king’s advances but relied on his patronage. Before Ludwig discovered Wagner, Wagner considered retiring. Without any investors, he told his friend that “only a miracle can help me now or I am done for.” Ludwig’s lifelong sponsorship gave Wagner the freedom and finances to become one of opera’s great talents.^[7]

4 Morris Levy

When Tommy James left for New York with a demo of “Hanky Panky,” every label he approached was eager to sign him. The next day, they all turned him down. Roulette Records strongman Morris Levy warned them that James was his next act. If they poached him, the Genovese crime family would pay them an unpleasant visit.

Convicted extortionist and connected mobster Levy ran Roulette Records as an arm of his criminal empire. He skimmed money from competitors by bootlegging their records. No one dared rip off his signees. A burned corpse of a bootlegger that crossed Levy was found in a pyre of stolen albums. A less monstrous but still legally dubious practice was payola. The mafia-controlled racket gave aligned disc jockeys sanctioned hits to promote on their show. Under Levy’s management, James’s impressive string of indelible gems got the airplay they deserved.

The relationship was hardly worth the brief fame. Nearly 40 million dollars of James’s royalties were funneled toward Levy’s prostitutes, tax shelters, and monthly dues to the Genovese family. James retaliated by pulling a gun on Levy in a drugged-out brawl. Levy yanked his most valuable artist off the ground and threw him against the wall. Trying to put pressure on Levy, the rival Gambino family placed a hit on James. James was only able to live thanks to strings pulled by another powerful friend, Vice President Hubert Humphrey. Working in that line of business takes a lot of blood and luck, crimson and clover, over and over.^[8]

3 Lou Pearlman

Lou Pearlman started his career with a con. Lou Pearlman ended his career with a different con. In between, there were some songs.

His first enterprise swindled investors with a fraudulent blimp company. Recruiters financed a company that did not own a single airship. Passing off a reconstructing weather balloon to look like a blimp, he purposely sabotaged his maiden flight. The insurance payout funded borderline legitimate projects. His next idea was to operate a fleet of personal airplanes. After boyband New Kids on the Block booked a flight, Pearlman figured he could rake in millions if he formed his own group.

Pearlman created the two dominant artists of the ‘90s boyband boom, The Backstreet Boys and N’Sync. The ploy of a faux rivalry lined Pearlman’s pockets with stolen profits. When the bands finally wiggled out of their terribly constrictive contracts, they dropped Pearlman as their manager. Denied his major revenue source, he started a new con. In 2008, he was sentenced to 25 years in prison for embezzling millions in a phony retirement pyramid scheme.

Pearlman exploded the craze that Ace of Base started. Pearlman hired a then-unknown composer Max Martin to craft his records. The two’s luck split over the ensuing decades. Until Pearlman’s death in 2016, Martin hit number one every year his former boss rotted in prison. By 2021, Martin had written the third-most number-one songs of all time.^[9]

2 Owsley Stanley

Hippies saw themselves as rebels against the powers in charge. Yet, their longest-lasting musical export was a product of the Central Intelligence Agency at its most villainous.

Starting in the 1950s, the CIA investigated LSD’s potential weaponized use as a truth serum. National security was too big of a priority to worry about rights like voluntary participation or informed consent. Unwitting victims were lured off the street and unknowingly slipped the drug. Behind fake walls, observers monitored their reactions. In one of the most unethical chapters in United States history, participants were raped, fell into comas, starved to death, jumped out of windows, and turned to murder. As awful as the experiment was, the CIA unwittingly catalyzed a cultural revolution.

Not all members regretted their involvement. The clandestine trials were Bohemian writer Ken Kesey’s first exposure to LSD. Having manufactured well over one million doses of the drug, MK-Ultra contact Owsley Stanley supplied Kesey and his entourage of the Merry Pranksters the potent chemicals needed for their infamous acid parties. The Warlocks, the in-house band, scored the debauched affairs with a rambling jam session resembling the drug’s hallucinatory effects. The profits of Stanley’s illegitimate business financed the Warlock’s first tours. Formlessness became the hallmark of the band, even after they changed their name to The Grateful Dead.^[10]

1 Michael Maybrick

Let’s start with the inarguable and then move to the speculative. First, the obvious truth, Duke Ellington made the world a better place. Over his six-decade career, Ellington consistently reshaped jazz history. Behind his piano at the Cotton Club, Ellington popularized the Big Band sound. Manager Irving Mills signed the legend after overhearing “Black and Tan Fantasy” creep through the airwaves of a local dive bar. Ellington’s 1927 song was not strictly an original composition. Mills was attracted to Ellington’s creative juxtaposition of jazz and motifs borrowed from Michael Maybrick’s 1892 hymnal “The Holy City.”

Despite “Holy City’s” reputation as the bestselling song of the 19th century, it is hard to confirm much of its songwriter’s biography. The nagging question, especially for researcher Bruce Robinson, is—did Maybrick get away with murder?. Circumstantial evidence strongly suggests he framed his sister-in-law for poisoning his brother. Unfortunately, Maybrick’s depravity might be even worse.

In his book They All Love Jack, Robinson makes a compelling case that Maybrick was the real identity of the eternally mysterious serial killer “Jack the Ripper.” Stops on Maybrick’s concert tours corresponded to the time and place where “Jack” sent his letters. Masonic elements splattered the crime scenes. Maybrick was a high-ranking member of the fraternity. The bodies were discarded within walking distance from Maybrick’s travel lodge. Singing a song by a serial murderer turned Duke Ellington into a household name, a fate Maybrick was surely thankful he avoided.^[11]