Pete Fitzsimmons is a writer for FanSided partner BroJackson.com. For more great content, head on over to Bro Jackson and check out Pete’s work.

I’m old. Well not old old, but old enough.

When I was growing up, the computer was used for Lemonade Stand, Oregon Trail, and some weird game where crocodiles ate math problems. And now, well, you know, it’s used for everything. In fact you could be relatively social, employed, enjoy down time, order food, and never really leave your favorite chair.

In my day MTV had the common decency to play music videos, Rolling Stone was delivered to my house, and there were only five good radio stations. I relied completely on these outlets for my music. Sure my friends would loan me a tape on occasion, but I was subject to whatever was being spewed at me to shape my music collection. While 120 Minutes on MTV was a great show to tune into and see bands you hadn’t heard of before, it was only on once a week. If you didn’t tape it on a VCR, you missed it. The idea of actively seeking out new bands was limited to watching some douchebag’s garage project in suburban Chicago. If you were lucky the band was the Smoking Popes or Smashing Pumpkins. I was not lucky.

For some reason, I never really changed my consumption of music. I still listen to regular non-satellite radio stations and rely on friend’s insistence to hear new music. It’s a lazy way to approach music, but it is what it is. The die has been cast. Most of my time online bounces between fantasy sports, email, and porn. Most of my radio listening bounces back and forth between sports talk and CDs from my big book of old-ass CDs. I love them. I guess I could upload them all onto my computer.

My music knowledge has atrophied as the pages have fallen off the calendar, but I’m fine with it. Nowadays, I have friends who are on top of every new sound that emanates from every crevice of the planet. That seems like entirely too much work. I figure, if something is truly great, it will find its way to me. So while I may not be qualified to rate anything music-wise these days, I was on top of my game in 1993.

Twenty years ago, these were my 10 favorite albums. My more discerning palate these days probably wouldn’t have chosen these ten albums. When you’re fifteen there are only so many things you are an expert on. One of them is making mistakes. The others involve video games and centerfolds. Roll Call.