Bruce Springsteen: Darkness on the Edge of Town (1978).  These songs have stood the test of time and the ups and downs of our lives to remain relevant because their meanings change as you change.
The Rolling Stones: Sticky Fingers (1971). Who can resist the guitar riff that opens “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’”?
Van Morrison: Moondance (1970).  I can listen to this all night.
The Beatles:  Abbey Road  (1969).  Rock and roll Beatles. .
Lucinda Williams: Lucinda Williams (1988). Raw, emotional, remarkably powerful, and unaffected (unlike her later work).
Bruce Springsteen: Born to Run (1975). Every song is a classic.
Bob Dylan: Blood on the Tracks (1975). My first Dylan.
R.E.M.: Eponymous. Yes, a greatest hits disc, sort of, but one that brings together one great cut after another of their somewhat neglected early days.
Grant McLennan: Horsebreaker Star (1994). The perfect pop disc from the late co-founder of the Go-Betweens.
The Who: Who’s Next (1971).  Count the number of classic, kickass rockers.
Neil Young: Rust Never Sleeps (1979). Both sides of Neil.
James Brown: 20 All Time Greatest Hits! (1991). From blues to R&B to funk to rock, the man could sing.
John Hiatt: Bring the Family (1987). Swampy, funny, sly and sweet music for adults.
Elvis Costello: Girls, Girls, Girls (import, 1989). Yeah, I’m cheating because I couldn’t pick a single Elvis disc.
U2: War (1983). “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” “Surrender,” “New Year’s Day.”
Los Lobos: How Will the Wolf Survive (1984). My introduction to a band always in regular rotation.
Dan Penn: Do Right Man (1994). Solo recordings of Penn soul classics including “The Dark End of the Street” and “It Tears Me Up.”
Talking Heads: Stop Making Sense (1984). The perfect live album.
Dusty Springfield: Dusty in Memphis (1969).  The sound of romance.
Al Green: Greatest Hits (1975). Discovered in high school and he remains a comforting friend.
Little Feat: Waiting for Columbus (1978). One of those college albums…
Creedence Clearwater Revival: Cosmos Factory (1970). One classic cut after another.
Rolling Stones: Let It Bleed (1969). No shelter from this one.
David Bowie: Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972) Another disc that’s worth going back to again and again.
The Clash: London Calling (1979). Beyond powerful, revolutionary.
Dave Alvin: Romeo’s Escape (1995). The former Blasters front man has a singularly American voice, both on paper and in the studio.
Richard and Linda Thompson: Shoot Out the Lights (1982). Desolate, heartbreaking and oh so very beautiful.
Prince: 1999 (1983). Pop, dance, funk, rock, ballads – they’re all here.
Steve Earle: Essential Steve Earle (1993). I ain’t ever satisfied.
Squeeze: East Side Story (1981). Sublime pop music.
The Replacements: Tim (1985). Propulsive, passionate rock you cannot resist.
Joe Henry: Short Man’s Room (1992). Henry and The Jayhawks collaborate on a classic American album.
Greg Brown: Dream Café (1992). Another great American voice tackling the world changing before him.
Roxy Music: Avalon (1982).  To me, the best of that lush, ethereal pop of the early ‘80s.
Jackson Browne: Late for the Sky (1974). Not the first, second or even third Browne album I owned, but the most affecting.
The Pretenders: Singles (1987).  Chryssie’s swagger, snarl, and fearless writing make these classics.
Over the Rhine: Drunkard’s Prayer (2005). A beautiful, thoughtful disc about love, life, and moving forward.
David Olney: The Wheel (2003) A sort of concept singer/songwriter album about the seasons of life that’s utterly brilliant from opening to closing.
Graham Parker: Squeezing Out Sparks (1979). A close call, but the rocking best of a fine Parker oeuvre.
Matthew Sweet: Girlfriend (1991). Perfect power pop rock.

Jim Morrison is a freelance writer who has contributed to the New York Times, Smithsonian and many other national publications. He lives in Norfolk.