I vividly remember being at church one night in 1995, probably a Wednesday, and seeing a poster on the wall with Christian music artists. The poster was one of those that said, “If you like X then you’ll like Y.” Since, over the previous year, I dove into punk rock with the explosion of Rancid, Green Day, Offspring, and NOFX, I immediately searched for those bands and saw that if I liked them there was a Christian alternative in MXPX, an alternative that would not taint my soul. I also found that if I like The Smashing Pumpkins I’d probably like Plankeye. That chart introduced me to Tooth and Nail Records, a “Christian” label started by Brandon Ebel in 1993.

After seeing the chart, I picked up Plankeye’s The Spark, which didn’t, in any way shape or form, remind me of The Smashing Pumpkins, especially not their latest release Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I listened to The Spark, enjoying songs like “It’s a Perfect Day Jerome” and “Drive,” but nothing really stood out to me. However, MXPX’s Teenage Politics grabbed me from “Sugar Coated Poison Apple” to “Delores,” taking me on an adrenaline fueled 45 minute 19 song punk infused speed track, without lifting the foot off the gas for a second. Lyrically, the album spoke to me as a teenager, with the band members being around my age. They sang about all of the things teenagers care about from dating to youthful “clean” rebellion. After all of these years, the album holds up, especially the anthem “Punk Rawk Show” which, to this day, takes me back to sweat-drenched rooms watching bands and allowing my emotion to escape in the moment.

My introduction to Tooth and Nail was formative, but it wasn’t until college that I really dug into their catalogue. That, though, is a story for another time because there were still so many albums in 1995 that struck a chord with me. One of those was Hum’s sophomore effort You’d Prefer An Astronaut. I don’t remember when I first saw the video for “Stars” or heard the song, but I know that it stayed with me. Using the quiet loud aesthetic of the period, the song moves from Matt Talbott’s soothing voice singing “She thinks she missed the train, she’s out back counting stars” to a crush of sound that lingers in the air until a single guitar renters then the full band, with a crunching riff and atmospheric, otherworldly sound that takes the listener through a auroral soundscape. “Stars” may be the single most people remember from that album, but it also contains gems like “The Pod,” “Why I Like the Robins,” and my personal favorite, “Suicide Machine,” a more laid back and soothing song that meanders for its entirety, lulling the listener into a somnambulant state before exploding in the end.

If Hum showcased a shoegazy, otherworldly feel, then Foo Fighters’ self-titled debut brought me back down to earth with its straightforward rock anthems. Following the end of Nirvana, Dave Grohl jumped right back in with this album, recording it over a six-day period, recording the instruments himself. Moving forward, he tapped former Germs and Nirvana guitarist Pat Smear and the rhythm section of Sunny Day Real Estate, Nate Mendel and William Goldsmith, for live shows and future recordings. Consisting of twelve songs over a forty-four minute run time, it foreshadows what Foo Fighters would become with subsequent albums. Songs like “This is A Call” and “Weenie Beenie” drive, relentlessly, through the speakers while others such as “Big Me” and “For All the Cows” have a more playful sound. What stands out to me, listening to Nirvana a lot lately and coming back to Foo Fighters, is the melodic impulses of these songs, not just the intrumenation but the vocals as well. I always knew these aspects of Nirvana, and I knew them about Foot Fighters, but listening to songs like “Dumb,” “All Apologies,” and even “Aneurysm,” drive this fact home, and we see Grohl doing the same in Foo Fighters’ oeuvre.

While Foo Fighters veered a little musically from grunge, Alice in Chains kept that thread extending through the decade with their own self-titled release in 1995. To that point, I had only really listened to the 1994 EP Jar of Flies which had songs like “I’ll Stay Away,” “Nutshell,” and “Whale and Wasp.” I hadn’t really listened to Facelift or Dirt, and if I did, I probably didn’t gravitate to them because they felt more polished and metally than the stripped down groove of Nirvana, the Melvins, or others. That same sound didn’t carry over the Alice in Chains. From the crushing opening riff of “Grind” to Jerry Cantrell’s distorted solo on the same song, it had a dirtier feel. Coupled with other grooves like “Sludge Factory” and “Again,” songs such as “Heaven Beside You” and “Frogs” hit that Jar of Flies feel for me, bringing everything together in a package that kept me coming back again and again.

For all of the music that I imbibed back in 1995, including everything from Fugazi’s Red Medicine to Primus’ Tales from the Punchbowl, there was so much that I missed and didn’t experience till years later. Jawbreaker’s final album, Dear You, was one of these albums. I loved 24 Hour Revenge Therapy, but for some reason, I never picked up Dear You. Songs like “Fireman” and “Accident Prone” are classics. I didn’t pick up Sleater-Kinney’s debut, notably because I was not very gender diverse in my listening habits, and the only real connection I had to any of the Riot Grrrl scene would have been tangential through grunge and L7, specifically their 1994 album Hungry for Stink. Today, though, Sleater-Kinney is one of my favorite bands.

Due to a myriad of reasons, most notably by being situated in the South and in the middle of the the country where bands didn’t real tour, along with other local aspects, my musical intake constisted of what I saw on MTV or found just browsing the music store in the mall. Due to this, I didn’t find Team Dresch’s debut Personal Best back in 1995, and I fear though, that even if I did, I wouldn’t have liked it because it would have challenged a lot of my beliefs during that period. Notably, I would have balked at songs like “Hate the Christian Right!” because it would have felt like an attack on my faith, and I definitely wouldn’t have responded well to the LGBTQ themes on the album. However, years later, the album stands as a document of that moment, musically, culturally, and more. Listening to it now, it’s a powerful record that, like all good art, expresses emotion and challenges. As well, it serves as a voice to those who feel unheard, like all good art does.

There are so many other albums that I could talk about from 1995, but I’ll leave it there. What is your favorite album from that year? As usual, let me know in the comments below. Make sure to follow me on Bluesky @silaslapham.bsky.social‬.