When the Album art has R. Crumb doodles you know it's gonna be a *freak out* All of a sudden, it's 1968. Vietnam. Nixon. Motown. Psychedelia. And screaming atop that Mountain is Janis Joplin. Such voice, such energy. I like to imagine Janis at the Crossroads with Robert Johnson, selling her very soul for her voice. That growl, that twang. It's unmistakable and irresistible. Especially on my new favourite version of "Summertime". The guitar tone is fuzzy and the temp is funky and soulful. There's solos, call and response. The piped in crowd noise before each track adds a wonderful electricity to each. These are the hymns of the counterculture, sung by their troubled high priestess and burned into our collective memory of the late 60s. Take a piece of my Heart, Janis. Just take it.

Oh no. Nu-Metal. Sweet Gary. Call me a freak on a leash because this is prison. This has "Edgy, Weepy Teen" written in neon green spray paint all over it. It's like they took all the cool parts of metal and then added all the worst parts of industrial and goth rock. I blame southern California for this. Plus, the lead singer is using that weird nasal tone that everybody used in the 90s. It's like Dave Matthews got put into the Microwave and then was forced to watch The Crow over and over again. Not a fan. Trent Reznor probably regrets inspiring these guys. How the hell did they get Ice Cube and Cheech on this turkey?

Dammit Elton John, why don't I like you? Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of glam, even gaudy, music. But for some reason I'm just not connecting. Maybe it's your ballad structure, piano forwardness, love of california? Maybe you're too bombastic? Maybe your music feels both too sincere and not sincere enough? Maybe it's the thinness of your drum in the mix or that so many sound like You. Maybe your songs go on far too long, loitering far past their welcome? I don't know. Maybe one day I will. But not today.

I gotta say, this album is quite "dandy" perfect for a stroll on a springtime day. Lots of harpsichord is welcome. I feel as if I'm on a boardwalk passing neon lights as the sun begins to set. Just groovy enough without suffering from being overtly psychedelic.

Less a swan song and more a swan opera. But it's not maudlin. It's reflective of a life being one of the defining voices in both the art and music of the 20th century. It's a man coming to terms with his legacy. A star slowly fading but still there in the sky, glimmering. You can't quite see it. But it's in heaven. It can be a hard listen, but an important one.

Full of Humour and charm, these boys from Brooklyn sure do know how to do sample. Excellent Mixing.

*Swoon*, this cat sure knows how to swing. Jazz standards never fail to satisfy. But the album feels safe and clean, a collection of great singles without much of a through line and that's A-okay. Effortlessly cool and Suave as Ol' Blue Eyes. Perfect for a Cocktail party that you just don't want to end, but I'm not sure I'll return to the whole. Just the parts of its sum.

I think Brian Wilson was right when he said this was the first album where "Every Track is a Gas". But it flows, despite there being 3 different writers experimenting beyond what pop was. It's fair to say this is when the beatles became important. All meat, no bones. Every song here is a guaranteed hit. They last as long as they need to. Right to the point.

Changes is a fantastic song. It's the platonic ideal of what an opening song should be on an album (The only one better is probably "Vicious" off of Lou Reed's Transformer, which Bowie produced a year later). It's full of charm and wit and transgression. It's Bowie on full charm, bombastic and triumphant. This album really could be Bowie's greatest hits for good reason. From the highs and majesty of "Life on Mars?" To the almost wailing, weird, mechanical "Andy Warhol" it is timeless. Like dream you never wish to wake from.

I think an apt comparison to this album is Pablo Honey. A young group still figuring out their sound and letting their influences shine a bit too much. There's a charm and the wall of sound guitar makes me feel as if I should be wearing my acid wash jeans. A good time for sure.

Man. This is a young man's album, full of piss and vinegar. Aimed at the heart of "the world" or hell, just at the music industry. There's a me who would love this album, but he's gone now, hidden in the pubescent anger of my cringeworthy middle school journal. One can only stomach so much darkness, so much glitchy ethereal electronic production. I think this ship has sailed. Like Lars Von Trier, this went over better in the 90's. Maybe that's a good thing.

I like new order, I really do. But aside from Love Vigilantes this album doesn't have much standout material. I kept wishing I was listening to Power, Corruption and Lies. The new wave is strong with these men. The Synths are quite dated but there's a lot to like here.

Holy star studded cast, Batman! You've got, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell and The Grateful Dead all putting their fingers in the pie and it's wonderful. Moody, full throated and bluesy as all get out. Smooth as a drive on an empty interstate in the southwest. I figured out something that was bugging me, the vocals for "Cinder and Smoke" by Iron and Wine are clearly derived from "Tamalpais High (around 3)" and boy that's a good thing.

Call me Lloyd Dobbler cause we're about to get some truth and soul up in here. Funky, Punky and Ska tinged this is groovy as all get out.

Man. I'm getting some Röyksopp vibes up in here. Maybe some early moby. A little too ambient and weird for my tastes but still enjoyable. The stereo production alone makes this one heck of a "check out these new headphones album". I'll return to this. Likely as a meditative aide. But as Bob Mould would say, don't "file this under easy listening".

Like the Mario Bava film this album takes its name from this is Terror at it's finest, lavish and full of ethereal doom. Both heavy and trance like. The album transports one to a gorgeous landscape marred by evil spirits which lurk across the land colours saturated by moonlight and the dripping of red blood. But imthere's also whimsy, creative minds unmoored by societal expectation. The birth of doom. Of heavy metal. The fact that paranoid was recorded less than a year afterward is a true wonder.

I gotta say, this album is quite "dandy" perfect for a stroll on a springtime day. Lots of harpsichord is welcome. I feel as if I'm on a boardwalk passing neon lights as the sun begins to set. Just groovy enough without suffering from being overtly psychedelic.

Less a swan song and more a swan opera. But it's not maudlin. It's reflective of a life being one of the defining voices in both the art and music of the 20th century. It's a man coming to terms with his legacy. A star slowly fading but still there in the sky, glimmering. You can't quite see it. But it's in heaven. It can be a hard listen, but an important one.

Oh Riot Grrl, you rock my world. Oh to be in Seattle at the turn of the Millennium hearing this in a smoky pool hall. Carrie Brownstein's voice is warbly almost too warbly but the energy of what's going on justifies it. Surfy, punky and quick. It's hard not to groove here. Totally rad, but it hasn't aged as well as it could have. Not great at all times, but there's some gems here. The back half really shines, especially "Buy her candy"

Oh no. Nu-Metal. Sweet Gary. Call me a freak on a leash because this is prison. This has "Edgy, Weepy Teen" written in neon green spray paint all over it. It's like they took all the cool parts of metal and then added all the worst parts of industrial and goth rock. I blame southern California for this. Plus, the lead singer is using that weird nasal tone that everybody used in the 90s. It's like Dave Matthews got put into the Microwave and then was forced to watch The Crow over and over again. Not a fan. Trent Reznor probably regrets inspiring these guys. How the hell did they get Ice Cube and Cheech on this turkey?

Oh shit, this is the opening from the Exorcist. No wonder this is rad. Prog rock as all get out. The album is quite ethereal and gutsy. Like a lot of early 70s prog, this skirts the line between playful and far too self serious. Still quite enjoyable. Even if I'd like more defined song structure. It's a full symphony made by a single young man.

Ah man. I saw the Keys the year after this came out. What a phenomenal concert, even if it was at the Target Center. I must have put holes in the CD from the amount of times I've heard this. One of the standout features on my iPod Nano. It's as good as I remember it. The crunchy guitars and the lilting vocals are bluesy and kinetic. But it's hard to deny the little weird sections, the fadeins of other songs. The crazy distortion on the guitars. It's a warm blanket. If a warm blanket was made of singing about being a vindictive cowboy.

Late period Miles Davis is hit or miss for a lot of folks. But boy do I love it. It's jazz full of the Psychedelic movement, trance like. Like New York City late in the evening. Alive. Kinetic.

This album is a delight. I'm surprised I hadn't heard of Drake's work but it's folky and mournful. He sounds like a Young Eddie Vedder, perfect for a rainy afternoon. Wistful and gorgeous.

It's good to see Paul Simon's experiments with world music began here. Paul Simon is special to me. I saw his last ever concert in Flushing a few years back. I can still remember dancing around, having spent the day touring Manhattan with my mother. This is like canned joy, like a summer day on the world's greatest city strolling through the different vibrant neighborhoods. His lilting voice and beat poetry are on full display, bright and shiny and catchy as all get out. It's an album for better days, full of hope in rough places. Perfection.

This is like a soundtrack for a bad spy movie. Dance music made albumatic but it's giving me some Fatboy Slim vibes. I can see this with some strobe lights but I'm not quite having fun. The drinks cost too much, I'm somehow under *and* over dressed and the stink of hugo boss haunts the air. The slice of life vocal samples are really inspired but not grabbing. Makes me miss New York and also Fail to understand New York. The middle of the album is a huge improvement over the first few tracks. Especially the reworked James Bond Theme

Man. Tom Petty sure listened to a lot of the Eagles before he made his debut. "Breakdown" could be a middle track on "The Long Run". But boy, he's here on display. This has some of his biggest hits (American Girl and the aforementioned Breakdown) but it also has a lot of his influences on his sleeve. Solid listen. It's tight, concise. Just what a debut should be. But a lot of the non singles just wash over you.

Dammit Elton John, why don't I like you? Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of glam, even gaudy, music. But for some reason I'm just not connecting. Maybe it's your ballad structure, piano forwardness, love of california? Maybe you're too bombastic? Maybe your music feels both too sincere and not sincere enough? Maybe it's the thinness of your drum in the mix or that so many sound like You. Maybe your songs go on far too long, loitering far past their welcome? I don't know. Maybe one day I will. But not today.

When the Album art has R. Crumb doodles you know it's gonna be a *freak out* All of a sudden, it's 1968. Vietnam. Nixon. Motown. Psychedelia. And screaming atop that Mountain is Janis Joplin. Such voice, such energy. I like to imagine Janis at the Crossroads with Robert Johnson, selling her very soul for her voice. That growl, that twang. It's unmistakable and irresistible. Especially on my new favourite version of "Summertime". The guitar tone is fuzzy and the temp is funky and soulful. There's solos, call and response. The piped in crowd noise before each track adds a wonderful electricity to each. These are the hymns of the counterculture, sung by their troubled high priestess and burned into our collective memory of the late 60s. Take a piece of my Heart, Janis. Just take it.

Elvis Costello sure is cool. But this alb is just middling. Nothing too great here, there's a lot of fun. It's jaunty, but there's too many weird ballads. I wish the attractions were here.

Oh 1995. That was 25 years ago and Alanis Morissette still sounds as original, as witty and as endearing as ever. The writing is frustrated without being angry, full of the gorgeous Gen X slacker irony (get it?) that has lost its way in the post internet days. While some may balk at Alanis' voice, the lyrics beneath it are so intricate and cutting that you can't help but sing along. There's pain, but there's triumph. Like "Hand in my Pocket" there's contradictions, there's a feeling of being stuck in the middle. Of feeling out of place. But then there's these moments of sweetness like on "Head over feet" full of the confused feeling that new love brings. Emotions are complicated, we're complicated and yet this album evokes that sentiment perfectly. Isn't that Ironic?

I'm pretty sure Björk listened to a lot of Kate Bush before her debut. The lilting of Kate's voice the sparse and strange electronic production, even early mentions of computers. It's not Hounds of love though. This album doesn't have much beyond "This is Woman's Work" which is a great track. But it comes too late.

Classic Punk right here. I'm not in the mood to make a long review but I am in the mood to jam with these louts. This is music to commit crimes to.

Holy Crap David Bowie. You managed to make this, Transformer and Hunky Dory in the span of 3 years? This is wonderful, the Birth of Ziggy Stardust, the honky tonk. This is tock and roll, where hunky dory could get weird and wild this is grooving. Like a Jean Genie, I want to spend my time with aladdin sane

If I could have Half as much Energy as a young Henry Rollins I would probably be the strongest man alive. This album is fast, loud, and relentless. The pace zooms along and screams of southern California and Reagan era anger. This is wild and untamed, damaged. But triumphant waving the black flag of rebellion. Makes me really want to have a TV Party

Leonard Cohen sings as if he is in prayer, his poetry lilting somehow from his baritone, like Dylan but less absurd. The orchestration is sparse but his gypsy jazz guitar is what shines. When you open with a song like Avalanche you know you're enraptured. And all of a sudden, I'm with you in the east village, you walking away in your famous blue raincoat. This is beauty and pain. Love and Hate.

Chuck D and Flava Flav are wholly underrated in the pantheon of Hip Hop. The true voice of late 80s brooklyn, So New York that Spike Lee had them be characters in "Do the Right Thing". This is the anger boiling beneath the surface. Anger at the police for fixing broken windows and not broken streets. Anger at Hollywood. It's been 30 years, do we still fear a black planet? I don't know. Butt regardless, we should fight the power

Oh crap this is fun. I mean, is there a better anthem than Common People? It's like Elvis Costello met the Cure. It's music for the scene in the film where the boy chases the girl through the streets in a whirlwind romance. Quick Cuts, closeups, montage interjections. It's kinetic. This is joyful music.

Ah yes, the early 2010s and their bubblegum my electronica and high pitched vocals and washed out guitar. I really wish this was Cherry Glazerr or Beach House. Catchy. Glitchy, but I could have picked a few better albums than this, say Fear Fun, I love you honey bear, Yankee Hotel foxtrot? It's odd how something so young is so dated somehow. Enjoyable regardless

Oh, the Who. These guys wrote the book of pre-punk rock and roll. This is a fun listen, but it's odd not to hear the audience. This just sounds like a studio recording. Also. 15 minutes for "My generation?" No thank you.

This album is just the songs Jump and Hot for Teacher. It's alright. And boy is eddie good at soloing. But there's not much elsewhere.

You know. I probably listened to this album close to 500 times when I was in high school. It's hard to divorce those feelings from my mind. The soundscape boiling away my resentment. Transporting my addled mind to a faraway place where I can't hear what's in-between the headphones. I can't give this anything less than perfection

Short sweet and to the point as the King steps into the room. From the opening bars of "Blue Suede Shoes" you're hooked. You're in love. You're making eyes at the cute gal making milkshakes at the sockhop only to jump into your hotrod and race away into the night. This album is alive, full of youthful energy. It is regal, when the king steps into the room. They say he is only sleeping under Graceland, until the great and fateful day when he is needed. Only then will the king return.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Peter Gabriel read the Canterbury Tales and T.S. Eliot over and over? Prog Rock. Prog rock happens. Why do I love prog rock so much? Is it how it feels cinematic? Like there's a camera panning around an open vista in your mind. Is it the wizards? The offbeat references and inscrutable lyrics? All I know is that this is gorgeous. Plus you can never go wrong with Peter Gabriel, Phil Collins (whose drumming is legend tier and essential to this album's flow) and Mike "and the mechanics" Rutherford. These guys are no damn joke. It's not often a supergroup exists before any of its members become famous. I might just need to listen to more genesis.

Oh boy they did it. They made me homesick for good ol Brooklyn. This is a Sure Shot to a good time. Great flow, mad sample game. A treasure.

This is pre grunge and I love it.