A cock crows. An aeroplane soars across the sky. A BBC radio announcer is heard discussing British summertime. His voice floats across the stereo spectrum. A harmonica from an Ennio Morricone soundtrack sounds like the heat of the sun on rock. A second voice, this time drenched in echo, asks: "What were the skies like when you were young?"
These are the first few thrilling seconds of Little Fluffy Clouds, the opening track of the Orb's Adventures Beyond the Ultraworld. The essence of the ensuing hour-and-a-half plus is distilled in the opening moments.
The voice that answers the Orb's question belongs to Rickie Lee Jones, a feted singer-songwriter in LA in the late-70s, when she was dated Tom Waits, whose associate Chuck E Weiss inspired the breezy first track of her debut album. Chuck E's in Love radiates west coast nonchalance and boho cool. The rest of the album's good – but not quite as good as the first track, a perennial problem with cracking openers.
Many side-one-track-ones succeed because they establish the mood of the album. That's vital for an album such as Air's easy-listening electronica masterpiece Moon Safari. La Femme D'argent sets the tone with its water-feature sound effects, bubbling Hofner bass and keyboard flourishes. Moon Safari provided the soundtrack to a million dinner parties, which is possibly not something you could say about King Crimson's 1969 opus In the Court of the Crimson King. Student veggie curries, maybe. But anyone who doubts that prog can be thrilling, powerful – and yes, progressive – needs to hear the jaw-dropping 21st Century Schizoid Man. It's complicated and challenging, but never indulgent.
"Ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space." We're going on a trip, we are told. All albums are trips, and Jason Pierce wins us over from the off with this weightless wonder, quoting Pachelbel and Elvis and opening the door to … what? The trick he pulls off is to prepare the listener for any eventuality. Also aiming for transcendence is Sufjan Stevens. The first track on his 1995 album Illinois is naive and mysterious, holding out the promise of revelation, of religious experience.
In 1976, Flamin' Groovies had undergone some lineup changes and refettled their garage-rock sound towards a British Invasion formula. So what better way to convince fans of the wisdom of the band's new direction than Shake Some Action, title track of the Groovies' third album? Its ringing guitars and sneering vocals weren't in fact nostalgic, but instead turned their back on hippie music and looked forward to punk. And by the way, opening your album with your best song isn't a bad tactic. Ditto for 1978's Eternally Yours, the second album by snotty Australian punks the Saints. Debut LP (I'm) Stranded never lacked soul, but Know Your Product, the first track of the follow-up introduced warm, blasting Stax horns to the mix.
Nic Jones's Penguin Eggs enthralls from the outset through the sheer force of Jones's musicianship. It's an album of traditional songs, but very much alive and in the moment due to Jones's astonishing acoustic guitar playing. Bob Dylan covered Canadee-i-o years after Penguin Eggs, but it's hard to imagine anyone bettering Jones's rendition.
Setting out the Long Ryders' stall on State of Our Union is Looking for Lewis and Clark. It says: Here are the Byrds, the Modern Lovers, the Clash … so much great music, all in one place. Sid Griffin's introductory yodel and then a whistle nods to tradition, then gives it the finger. As a statement of intent, it's hard to beat.
Here's the A-list:
Little Fluffy Clouds – The Orb
Chuck E's in Love – Rickie Lee Jones
21st Century Schizoid Man – King Crimson
Ladies and Gentlemen We are Floating in Space – Spiritualized
Concerning the UFO Sighting near Highland, Illinois – Sufjan Stevens
Shake Some Action – Flamin' Groovies
Know Your Product – The Saints
Looking for Lewis and Clark – The Long Ryders
And here's the B-list:
I Saw Her Standing There – The Beatles
"One, two, three, four!" The Beatles must have realised how effective the count-in was; they used the same device on the opening track of 1966's Revolver. All the excitement and anticipation of rock'n'roll is right there, as the Ramones realised. Even Elvis Presley, no fan of the Beatles, could not resist I Saw Her Standing There's charms.
Make Me Know It – Elvis Presley
Speaking of whom … this was the first song The King recorded after being discharged from the army, and the first track on his LP Elvis is Back. It gives the lie to John Lennon's claim that Elvis died when he joined the army. He's still got it.
Message to You, Rudy – The Specials
Much-loved Dandy Livingstone cover that opened the Specials' first album, a key 2-Tone text that revived a neglected genre (ska) and told kids it was ok to have a good time and dance during hard times.
Diana Ross's finest moment? Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards transform her from sugar-frosted Motown popstrel into grown-up disco diva, swathed in effortless sophistication.
The opener to the Argentinian soundtrack composer's 1964 album Piano, Strings and Bossa Nova took a scoop of Brazilian cool and whipped it up to a froth with some Hollywood pzazz.
Surfer Rosa: strange, primaeval, sexy, disturbing. It's all there on the opening track of the Pixies' debut album: Black Francis's bloodcurdling screams, the disorientating odd bars of ¾, the brevity and economy of the composition. In 1988 it sounded like nothing else.
Accidents Will Happen – Elvis Costello & the Attractions
Sometimes there's no need for introductions. Some great songs, and great albums, begin with singing. The first thing you hear on Costello's 1979 set Armed Forces is him singing the perfect first line: "Oh, I just don't know where to begin ..." It led the charge into a tour-de-force of songwriting.
The Nightmare of JB Stanislas – Nick Garrie
The title track of one of the rarest records of the late-60s, the debut album by fey Scottish songwriter Nick Garrie-Hamilton (he didn't follow it up until 2008). French producer Eddie Vartan, imposed heavy Scott Walker-style orchestration on it against Garrie's wishes, and the album flopped. But the large scale of the recording takes us somewhere wonderful.
Back at the Chicken Shack – The Incredible Jimmy Smith
Back in 1960 albums were usually just a bunch of tracks slung together by a record company. Listeners didn't care, especially when the music was this good. Hammond organist Smith and saxophonist Stanley Turrentine keep the cool-o-meter in the red for eight glorious minutes.
The Bees, masters of all styles, opened their swoonsome debut album Sunshine Hit Me with this. It's like stepping out into a lazy summer day. I recommend you put it on now.
* Here's a Spotify playlist containing many of these songs
* Here's last week's blog, from which I've selected the songs above
* There'll be a fresh theme at guardian.co.uk/readersrecommend
