1001 Albums Summary

Played the crap out of this during my first year of college. Some interesting songwriting undermined by flat production values. Title track, 'Mother Goose' and 'Locomotive Breath' the standouts.

Better than I had expected, albeit a little plodding in places. I do like a singing drummer.

A weird melange of Simple Minds stadium rock and Celtic folk sensibilities. Unfortunately, there are many better stadium rock acts, and many better folkies, and this falls between the cracks.

Superior disco, really. Some tracks do transcend the genre, quite a few don't. Great if you like disco, otherwise it's merely okay. Starts brilliantly, ends on a high, it's the bit inbetween that's the issue.

Really cool, full of tones and sounds that sound odd even today. Marked down for being a little meandering in places, but very strong overall

Inspired in places, boring in others. The satirical stuff mostly lands, but the bits that don't have aged like milk. However, some of the music is great - 'Deceptacon' is nothing short of brilliant, whilst 'What's Yr Take On Cassavetes' is a real hoot.

I don't want to give the excuse that this didn't land because I'm British; but this bland country-rock simply didn't connect with me at all. Boring music, boring lyrics, happy to see the back of this - my Steve Earle comments, but the app glitched. Duck Rock - this was an unexpected joy. Who knows how much of that old charlatan McLaren's input actually made it to the record? Should I care? This is a kaleidoscopic blending of all kinds of influences, yet sounds surprisingly coherent. Love it!

Disappointed that 'She' was nothing to do with either KISS or H Rider Haggard. All in all, somewhat monochrome, a few memorable tracks, a fair bit that was unremarkable but nothing unpleasant or irksome.

After the first couple of tracks I worried this would feel samey. Wrong. Deep grooves in the samples, Cube's in-your-face delivery and a dollop of humour and self-awareness made for a very enjoyable listen.

On the face of it, the music is quite rudimentary. The atmosphere, though, is absolutely electric, and Cash sounds like he's having the time of his life. Incredible, we won't hear anything like this again

One of those guys who, no matter how hard I try, I can never get into. Even having given this a considered listen, I still haven't experienced a eureka moment. Still, 'Pump It Up' is a banger

Not my cup of mud, brother

10cc have about fifty ideas per track, some of which work. A lot of them are irritating, however, and their kitchen sink approach gets in the way of creating fun, memorable songs people might actually enjoy. The guitar tones are aggressively shitty, and something about these guys always feels slightly racist?

I like a reasonable amount of reggae, so this was a pleasant excursion, albeit a little one-paced. Not anything I'd rush back to, but I'd happily have this choogling along in the background to a leisurely drive. And Tosh is right, just legalise it already!

Set guitars to 'chooglin'' and plot a course for the bayou, Mr Fogerty

Prog gets dumped on all the time, and Yes is one of the bands held up as its worst criminals. However, this album shows that Yes' songwriting could be really tight, melodic and dare I say it, catchy. One of the most unfairly maligned bands. Great album, this. Now, if we're talking ELP albums or any of the Yes-men's solo efforts, yeah, those are rancid by and large.

Played half of this album in my high school band and I'm heartily sick of it. Metallica are a band that just never got my blood pumping.

Now we're cooking with gas. This feels like Bob firing on all cylinders - the music is great, the lyrics are wonderfully elliptical, there's a pulse and electricity that runs through this collection - magic stuff. I can see why boomers get so heated under their wigs about Dylan. Highlight for me is 'Ballad of a Thin Man', but stick the needle down anywhere at random and you strike gold.

There are, in my estimation, only a couple of sins in music that are entirely unforgivable, and chief amongst them is to be boring. And that's my problem with this, an album that seems to have garnered plaudits and critical acclaim off the back of very little. For all the sonic bells and whistles, this is such a monotone-sounding collection; unvarying in tempo, tone or ambition. The melodies are boring; Jeff Tweedy has a boring voice; the bing-bong-whizz sound effects (or should that be affects?) are boring. I hate this album with a rare passion.

I already own a copy of Violator, it's an album I have great regard for. There are a couple of longeurs in the pacing I had forgotten about, but overall this crackles with a dark energy and sharp song craft. The production is pretty dated, but I can overlook that. Not a single person at either school or college liked Depeche Mode.

When I was at school, the Manics were the most impossibly edgy indie band, probably because they were a little more angular than the Britpoppers and sometimes slagged off politicians. Listening now, it's pretty good, fine, okay music with some decent hooks and more than a dollop of pop - and even soft rock - elements in the mix. 'A Design For Life' remains the best cut, probably because it sounds like Jellyfish, albeit not quite as good.

I am no fan of trip-hop, and I wouldn't shed too many tears if the entire city of Bristol was to fall into the sea. This sounds...atrocious. Boring, dated - and how many times are they going to say the phrase 'massive attack'? I'm trying to imagine a scenario where I'd put this on out of choice, and am failing. Perhaps interrogating someone at Abu Ghraib?

I don't really know what to say. Decent songwriting, half-decent voice, music that is as anonymous as the interior decor of a dentist's waiting room

I may be committing a spot of heresy here but this is...a bit shit? The songs tend to drag, the production and orchestration feel creaky and I really struggle with the drippy, lugubrious vocals. I am to understand that this is an enduring work of genius, but one or two tracks aside I'm not getting any juice out of this lemon. The soupy sounds of a bunch of wet lads, criminally overrated all told.

What can I say? It's Number of the goddamn Beast by Iron fucking Maiden. Five stars, and I'd give it another five if I could!

I have a weird relationship with Zappa - a lot of his music is deeply unpleasant, absolutely devoid of charity, warmth or human spirit, and not half as funny as his aficionados would lead you to believe. Yet, now and again, he would rise to the occasion and deliver something utterly sublime. Hot Rats is one of those moments - I love the grinding violin riff to 'Willie The Pimp' whilst 'Peaches En Regalia' might be his most focused and accomplished instrumental in the rock idiom. I don't chuck the word 'genius' around much, and I don't think it applies to Zappa ultimately, but when firing on all eight he came damn close.

What a strange duck this is. I feel as if this is an album more important for what it represents than what it sounds like. Automation, alienation, robotics - we're on the cusp of the first era of popular computing here and thus Numan's otherworldly marriage of man and machine must've seemed a quiet thrill. However, in 2021, its repetitive grooves and relatively small sound palette just don't cut it no mo'. I realise that repetition in and of itself can be a canny tool in the hands of an artist, but it doesn't mean I have to enjoy the results. I've listened to this twice, to see if I missed anything the first time around. I don't think so. I've got a friend who looks like Gary Numan though.

Elvis is one of those guys I blow hot and cold about. As a youngster I thought he was impossibly tacky; an Elvis-obsessed housemate at college then opened a door to me; a subsequent visit to Graceland saw the pendulum swing back again to Elvis being crap; until at long last I got a box set of his early recordings, which are luminous. So to this album; there's craft, variety and some good material, but in comparison to his early output, a little stale and workmanlike.

Simply, the apogee of British folk rock. Possibly the genre's greatest ever album. Opener aside, everything else comes from the archives of Cecil House but Fairport Convention play the material as if it was their own. Sandy Denny is at her peak here - variously gentle, imperious, confiding and raucous. Listen to the way she inhabits each character as if an actor on both 'Matty Groves' and the most remarkable of all, 'Tam Lin'. I grew up on this stuff.

Here we go! Back on the good stuff! I say this is a Nick Cave fan, that sometimes his music can feel faintly gimmicky; peer past his almost aggressive coolness and there's a great writer, still, but his scope is quite limited. Nonetheless, this one's right in his sweet spot, and in mine too if I'm honest.

I didn't know what to expect from this, but it's a bit disappointing, isn't it? Nothing quite has the prowl and strut of the title tracks, and whilst some of the soul covers are decent - especially the Ray Charles cut - too much is half a step away from elevator music. Often, older music benefits from a more sparse, 'live' sounding production, but not in this instance - it's a tinny and undeveloped sounding album.

I know I'm late to the party here but I've got a lot of regard for Mike Oldfield - a weird guy but someone who determinedly made music his way. 'Tubular Bells' is still a very interesting record; for me, its ubiquity hasn't dulled its impact.

This is almost aggressively bad. I can't stand either Simon's twee songwriting nor his powder-puff non-event of a voice. But the biggest crime is just how absolutely terrible this sounds, production wise. Crappy synth sounds clash with noise-gated drums and that weird farty bass sound that plagued the era. I can't believe this plastic, milquetoast grab bag of cheap pop and world music borrowings is considered a classic. Dogshit.

Tries a little bit of everything and isn't great at any of it. Pretentious lyrics, drab songs and one of the most irritating voices around. If these are the selections for the week, I dread what the weekend's pick is gonna be like.

In my younger days I used to go to a pub called the Winchester, which was in Bournemouth, for what was an 'anything goes' night. Any band or artist could book a slot, irrespective of talent, which made it a great opportunity to see some oddballs. You mostly got youthful hipsters or anti-music noise bands (one act once cranked out guitar feedback for half an hour), but one time a middle-aged guy with a beer gut and receding hairline showed up with a Casio keyboard and played a set that sounded almost exactly like I'm Your Man (if played solely on a cheap keyboard). All the songs were about his divorce and how much he missed his kids. Four stars.

Growing up, this is what loads of my friends listened to. It wasn't really my bag, but I suppose I could be described as 'pop-punk adjacent' - not a fan, but more familiar than the average punter by dint of exposure. I remember thinking Smash was fine at the time, no more, no less. And I think I was right. All quite samey, not exactly a breadth of tone or instrumentation to marvel at, but okay nonetheless.

Really good, still holds up despite some of the production sounding a little rudimentary by today's post-Rockwilder standards. The lyrics still pack a wallop, and Chuck D's voice simply one of those things I like to listen to. Cool!

I'm torn, because the highlights are simply great, but there's a fair bit of material that just churns away. When it works well, Sharkey's odd, bleating voice and the frequent use of repetition is electrifying - 'Here Comes The Summer' being the prime example - but songs fall flat when it misses. Also - I'm not a teenager in the late 1970s, to whom this no doubt sounded fresh and exciting, a marriage of punk spikiness and pop sweetness, but here in 2021 it doesn't quite pack the wallop. Still, there's considerable craft and some nimble songwriting on display here, so a solid four stars from me.

Quite simply, one the best things ever committed to tape. I don't care that the production supposedly fucked how this sounded, I think it's cool and adds to the grime and aggro. This is one of the most evil sounding albums, and makes much of everything that preceded - and followed - it sound limp and fey. How chunky do those guitars sound! And the drums sound like a pile of bricks falling down a staircase. Incredible.

Despite Mr Smith's liberal use of profanity, this is an indistinct and wimpy record. I don't like it. The only bits I liked were when he was doing a passable Big Star impersonation. Otherwise, all a bit too wet and gooey for me.

This is preferable to Graceland solely due to the absence of flatulent production values, but I'm still not on board with Mr Simon. His songwriting feels tweet and cloying to me, and his voice sounds like it emanates from something akin to a gnome or goblin. Just the thought of this creepy homunculus cooing into my ear makes me nauseous. A buncha guys tried reggae on for size around this time, too

How odd - I found myself listening to this at the weekend quite by chance after a friend's recommendation. I am quite taken with Buckley's rather fruity, wavery delivery but the album doesn't quite hang together successfully for me. It's the usual grab-bag of ideas that seemed to be common in the era, and some of those ideas are better executed than others. The production dates this somewhat, especially those tracks that possess a widescreen ambition.

One of my favourite albums of all time. Martin Fry's melodramatic crooning, the unabashedly cinematic romanticism and a clutch of finely honed songs make this an essential collection. I consider this one to be the Citizen Kane of New Wave. Big talk? Big album!

Am I alone in saying that I don't think there's a single Beatles album that is strong all the way through? There always seems to be some filler lurking in the margins. But, of course, when they're on form the Beatles do no less than re-write the face of rock and roll. Some of the tracks here are untouchable. Aside from the fluff, the only things working against them are ubiquity and personal taste - I prefer the Beatles' most early incarnation, but here, as they transition to a more psych sound, they're still near the peak of their powers.

Guys, it's the first Van Halen album.

Love this. There's ambition, a kind of cinematic aspect to much of the music, and despite all the electronic bells and whistles there's a lot of humanity and heart. It seems to be quite faddish in this era to incorporate elements of 'World Music' into your sound, but this is probably one of the more successful attempts to do so. Great album.

What a weird experience. I love Muddy Waters, but the version I like is the one who recorded with the brawling, hardass 'Headcutter' band on all those wonderful Chess Record sides. This is actually a very good blues record, but it just misses that dusting of magic that you got with Little Walter, Jimmy Rogers et al on sideman duty. Still, you get Pinetop Perkins on piano!

Dogshit.

I think this one comes down to whether you personally like Talking Heads or not. I happen to be a fan, but amidst the limpid guitars, rinky-dink chord voicings and Byrne's near-hysterical yelp, there's something missing. Where's the snap and urgency, I wonder? Still, not without its highlights, especially the murky churn of 'Memories Can't Wait'.

Quite enjoyed the one-two punch of Tim Buckley this app has delivered up. I think I might prefer this one to Starsailor. Okay, nobody is confusing him for George Clinton, but as a blue-eyed soul cut this ain't half bad

A generous three stars. It's fine. I like the odd AFT track in isolation, but this album was a little numbing. The guitars twang, the rhythms lollop along pleasantly, but nothing really stuck. A nice diversion into Malian music, which I genuinely have some fondness for, but there's better stuff out there. There's better AFT music, for starters

The strolling bass, the weepy lap steel, the high 'n' lonesome harmony vocals - it all feels like something that had to be dusted off, no? Also, Haggard is fine at the 'cryin' into your beer' tracks, but flatness of affect is evident elsewhere. He sings 'I'm an outlaw' with the same gusto that you might sing 'I'm a chartered accountant'. Still, I did like 'If You Want To Be My Woman', it reminded me of the Sesame Street theme

This whips ass.

I like the Minutemen, a cool band who did something different with punk and hardcore. Holy hell though, is is far too long to be enjoyable. Maybe the fact that I cannot stick around for almost 90 minutes is just the spirit of the age coming through.

An album I bought yonks ago without knowing much about the VU, and it hasn't disappointed. Some of these tracks are timeless - 'Venus In Furs' would be somewhere on the list of my favourite songs of all time. Nothing else quite sounds like it. The only fly in the ointment is Nico, I'm afraid. I don't buy the 'ice maiden' thing, and too often her contributions, whilst possessing a certain guileless charm, are simply clumsy

So much of the music of this ilk sounds dated and tired, and I'm afraid that this is no exception. Jeff Beck is a fine guitarist but we don't get to hear him to his fullest advantage here, and Keith Relf is an awful singer. Still, 'Over, Under...' is good, but in 2021 I'd much rather be listening to the psych stylings of, say, Shocking Blue.

Difficult to look at the biggies on this platter with any sense of objectivity. 'Vincent' sounds sweet, yes, but there's a dorkiness to McLean that forbids me from taking him too seriously. He just sounds a bit...wet. Pleasant stuff, nothing more

Unlistenable in the way a lot of modern albums are. I'm speaking purely in terms of production here, but everything seems to be aimed at being parped through a laptop. Such a harsh sound. Also, I'm aghast at the critical response this album has had; perhaps it's age, but I'm simply not getting the same juice as the critics out of this dud. At least I can now say I've given FKA twigs a go.

Quite an exhausting listen, and I'm still someone who struggles with all the interstitial skits that pepper hip hop albums, but the music itself? Quality. A fairly murky and morose album, but Raekwon's lyrical facility is superb; both he and Ghostface Killa are all over those dusty Wu-style beats.

In the past I've struggled to article why this mob have not quite done the business for me, but now I think I have an answer. For all their invention - hell, some of Juju really points to new ways that rock can be played - there's an absence of humanity or soul. It's fun when Kraftwerk pretend to be robots, but it's just a touch dismal here. Nonetheless, Juju is bursting with ideas and Siouxsie is an arresting vocalist. Maybe I'll come round.

I have this one on quite frequently whilst I work - on that basis, it's absolutely the perfect accompaniment to some gentle cogitating. The title gives it away, even if Eno was being semi-ironic - it's functional music. And on that basis, a triumph

Motorik beats, squelchy sounds, a kind of Francophone cool pervades - it's studied, chic and quite fun in small doses, but after a while washes over you somewhat. Not bad, not brilliant.

This guy sounds like he's having a ripe old time of it, but the music got quite boring, quite quickly. I bet it's great to dance to, but I'm listening to this whilst I work. Any road, I can't dance. A quick look at this guy's Wikipedia page and, wow, he seems like a real piece of shit.

The first five tracks are some of the most misogynistic around (Lady Jane aside), but at least one of them - Under My Thumb - is a stone cold classic. Bit of a funny album, it feels quite transitional, with a fair bit of filler. However, the edge that Jagger brings means it's superior filler!

I quite like this. Nothing spectacular, undeserving of the hype it gets for sure, but a pleasant, breezy way to kill time with a glass of something cold and a good book

This whips ass. They've got a dude who's probably a worse vocalist than me, the thinnest, shittiest production imaginable and they've swathed the whole thing in reverb. It's simply majestic as to the degree that this sucks, therefore it gets a maximum score from yours truly.

Another album that, for me, has suffered thanks to the passage of time. Some of these tracks, like Scarborough Fair and For Emily... still sound great. Others are freighted with the dragging earnestness of S&G's execution. We get a lot of Paul Simon on this app, and I think I've realised how little of his material I actually enjoy. Well, there's a cheery ending to the review...

Side one is simultaneously rocking to the max, and geeky to the max. I love how this album opens, and the way the track 2112 begins by sketching out a blueprint of all the cool riffs you're going to encounter in this stupid dystopian space opera. Glorious. Side two has a song that makes doing drugs sound about as hip as voting Republican, a surprisingly touching ballad in Tears and a slamming track to wrap everything up. Full marks for prog rock's most notable Ayn Rand adherents!

Second album in a row that absolutely rips. The first few beats of the drum track that kicks off 'Gimme All Your Lovin'' is a free shot of dopamine every time. I think the songwriting is one point, the guitar playing is chewy, and Gibbons' rough voice contrasts wonderfully with the buzz and whoosh of the synths. They never really cracked it again properly, in my estimation - not totally - but as a synthesis of Texas boogie and new wave instrumentation, this was unique and never bettered.

Tip top stuff! Much better than the other Talking Heads album so far encountered. Their best album? I should say so!

Linen suits, eyes crouched behind smoked glass, a cappuccino on the terrazzo. The evening wears on, out comes the cognac, the fine Bolivian, lithe Polish escorts with cat eyes and cruel mouths. A dance that happens every weekend, every night in this corner of the Old World. All played out to the deadly, sclerotic beat of a music that never knew it was ever alive.

I can appreciate this for what it is, but it's simply not my cup of java. It's a big sounding record, a kitchen sink approach to the arrangements (preferable to electro minimalism in my opinion) but doesn't float my boat

Loved this. It does sag a little in the middle, but I adore the sonics of the album, the wonderful singing, the incorporation of funk into some of the tracks. Post-punk in general is hitting the sweet spot for me as it strikes me that so many of its participants were striving to make a pop sound that didn't patronise its listeners. You can be experimental, sophisticated and still catchy as hell. File this alongside bands like Monochrome Set.

I like or love everything that Nick Drake has done, but this album falls at the 'like' end of the scale. The songwriting is there, but watch out for some of those soupy string arrangements

Every rap album on here seems to be by a member of the Wu Tang Clan and takes about a day to listen to. This one, though, is the best. Great use of smoky soul samples, skits that actually add to the proceedings, and a genuinely brilliant couple of tracks in The Champ and Back Like That. Gonna use The Champ to get myself psyched into a killer mentality before playing badminton with my work colleagues

Yeah, not bad. Suffers a fair bit from the rather quaint production job, which was seemingly "reverb up to 11", the musicianship doesn't quite match ambition. However, there's definitely some craft and charm to this quirky little curio. I really liked the female vocals, almost offhand and diffident in delivery. A couple of songs stick, most faded almost as soon as the album stopped, but a pleasant trip whilst it lasted.

For every bit of magic on this album, there's something a little powderpuff about much of the rest of the material. I know we are all supposed to consider Stevie Wonder a genius, but Innervisions aside I'm not sure he's ever hit that kind of consistency. The funk-soul equivalent to Iron Maiden, then; stellar moments and a hogshead of filler

That was boring, wasn't it? Such a thin sound, uninspired songwriting, strange attempts at a cod-funk sound that never works - and Weller really sounds tired on this, doesn't he? A couple of tracks aside, this feels like a dull man doing dull things

I can hack this in small doses, but after a while the fuzzy, abstruse nature of the music all just blends into a monotonous melange. Perhaps I'm simply not in the right mood? What would be the right mood? And how crap would this sound without any feedback?

I admire the scope and ambition of this work. I like the diverse range of musicianship and the attempts to integrate jazz into the hip hop lexicon. Some of the word play is impressive. However, it all adds up to something akin to a complex plumbing system; a technically adroit feat that I couldn't begin to try to replicate myself, but ultimately quite boring to behold.

Brilliant, despite it being a series of fairly straight blues performances this sounds fantastic. Blues being so formulaic at times, often it's a case of not what one plays, but how one does it; and Waters oozes charisma. Big boy music, played with authority and panache. Makes a lot of what we listen to sound quite juvenile, don't it?

Worse than being incompetent is being boring. Ten times out of ten I'd prefer to listen to a car crash failure that had some ambition over coolly, competently delivered music that neither stirs the imagination nor gets the blood pumping.

Underneath the hood this is a quietly insane record - the kitchen sink production, Joe Elliot's nonsensical stream-of-consciousness lyrics, the mere fact that the drum patterns had to be configured for three limbs - wild. Its subsequent success is the cherry on top. If you don't like melodic hair metal, it's an automatic one or two star, right? I do, though - and all the Mutt Lange bells and whistles are still a pleasure to behold.

This really sucks. The Police represent a lot of stuff I hate in popular music, and this, their final album, feels like a culmination of all that - the pretentious songwriting, muso navel gazing, shiny songs that glide past each other with a minimum of friction and even less to get excited about.

Such a peculiar experience - this is obviously an important and influential record, you can hear its fingerprints all over indie and alt rock that would follow in its wake - but as a listening experience, not really much fun. A strange mix of alienation and slowed-down krautrock for the most part, with some horribly dated production. I'm sure Ian Curtis was a compelling live performer, because the version of him on here isn't pulling up any trees. I'd prefer to listen to some Billy Idol, y'know?

One of the best one-two opening punches in rock music, and in truth, the quality doesn't dip much from the onwards. The only weak link is Bottum's keys work, which sounds a bit rudimentary - especially so as I think his nagging, insistent riff throughout 'From Out of Nowhere' propels the song. A small quibble though, overall such a strong, meaty and fun album!

Pretty remarkable, even if Joni Mitchell has a voice that I seriously cannot get along with. The craft and talent are apparent but, man, that voice...

I liked this well enough for the duration I listened to it - light, funky and lyrically quirky, but it lacks the snap and bite that I tend to enjoy in rap music. Nothing quite lodges in the mind for long enough to leave a lasting impact. Don't I sound grouchy? I've had a long day.

Iconic as this album is, I don't think it's really something that resonates with my tastes. It's too slushy and gauzy, all cooing string arrangements and twinkling vibes. However, even if it does fall, just about, on the wrong side of the line where schmaltz is concerned, Gaye's singing is impeccable. For that alone, Let's Get It On is worthy of respect, after a fashion

So this is alternative rock, eh? More like alternative to rock, right guys? But seriously, this is okay

Yeah, great! The first track sounds like REM were they to ever find an overdrive pedal, and the second sounds like Dogs D'Amour being plagued by a mosquito. But overall, this sounds like really punchy, melodic, beefy power pop. Not a million miles from the Wildhearts. Too young to have caught this the first time around, glad to be acquainted now.

At times I love Jeff Beck's playing, and there's a couple of things he's done that scrape the firmament of what's possible in the popular idiom of guitar rock. And there's this, which has been said to have been a big influence on Led Zeppelin, amongst others. I still think it has a certain aura to it, despite fundamentally being a heavy blooz rock album without too many frills.

Hypnotic, jazzy and understated...or boring, longwinded and energy-sapping? I honestly couldn't tell you, and it might be all these things and more. Sometimes the music sounds a little flimsy, but the rhymes are, on occasion, fabulous. So why are they often delivered in a monotone? A frustrating experience.

Three-quarters of a brilliant album here - unfortunately the rest is either filler or ideas that slightly overstay their welcome. However, when it hits - 'Kashmir', 'Sick Again', 'The Rover' - it's pretty much the archetype of what classic rock could aspire towards.

Quite good.

A game of two halves, Clive. Really enjoyed the spiky, sexy first half - but felt it ran out of steam in the latter portion of the album. Never liked 'Brass In Pocket', but it's fairly atypical of this collection. I really enjoyed the instrumental, more bands should do this.

They don't do brevity, do they? Not sure I really get on board with combining Kraftwerk and Moroder with post-millennial irony. There's a kind of lassitude that squats at the heart of this project that turns me off. The music isn't good enough to pull me back. Repetition has its place as a tool for creating an ambience, but alas, that place is not on an LCD Soundsystem album.

Pleasant and rambling country rock. A little like a more churchy Townes Van Zandt, albeit the songwriting isn't up to that quality (then again, who's is?). I didn't mind this, an amiable companion to a wet weekend but hardly setting the world alight.

This was a sensation back in the day, I recall the stir it caused whilst I were nought but a mere schoolboy. Utterly strange, given just how dull it is. Richard Ashcroft must be one of the most boring people in the music biz, and he's up against Moby and half of Blur for that accolade.

So good. On the surface the music is fairly meat 'n' potatoes, but there's a real groove and intensity to much of what CCR does that it's infectious. John Fogerty has an amazing voice, of course. And the song 'Green River' is the quintessential swamp rock track. Takes this particular Limey back to the bayou, mentally, at least!

Used to listen to this loads as a yute; round my mate Simon's, Virtua Fighter 2 on the PS1 and sound off so we could listen to The Pixies, Mark Lanegan and Smashing Pumpkins. Even with that healthy shot of nostalgia in the plus column for this album, Billy Corgan's voice is such that it's still hard going in places. Not bad, though.

Wow - this feels like the shittiest excesses of the 1960s psychedelic era wrapped in the shittiest excesses of early 1990s production techniques. A horrible assault on the ears.

At least we're not getting the shit albums at the weekend at the moment.

The first album I ever bought was ELO. This one remains a favourite of mine, despite the decades they spent languishing in the mire of critical scorn. I'm glad they've undergone a minor re-evaluation, because Jeff Lynne owned the purest pop ears since Paul McCartney. The songs here feel liked they're beamed in from a softer, sunnier dimension; and it's a small marvel at just how meticulous some of the arrangements are. Lynne has the sensibility of a jeweller where creating pop is concerned - one of my favourite albums, of any genre, ever

This app is so weird - it throws up repetitive Afrobeat by some serial sex pest or completely anonymous Mitteleuropean electro-swing one moment and then - bam! - hits you with one of the most brilliant songwriters at the peak of his powers. Still, no complaints - any excuse to listen to this, albeit (whisper it) I actually prefer Dylan's post-millennium death rattle voice.

This is...really good? Even if, pervert that I am, I prefer the version of 'Mr Soul' that appears on Neil Young's lamented electro-rock album Trans. How did they get away with that 'Satisfaction' riff though? And were Sam & Dave's legal team sniffing about when they heard 'Goodtime Boy'? No matter though, there's great variety here and all of it sounds fantastic. Good playing, interesting arrangement choices, some superb vocal performances. I went into this thinking it would be all quite fey and folksy, and I've been roundly disabused of that notion. Might buy this in a physical format.

I'm not sure why I don't like this, because it's got bits of things I tend to really dig. Maybe it's that? That I tend to like my country and garage rock undiluted, but this feels like it's borrowing elements of those forms but denuding them of context. I liked a few songs, especially 'Monday' and 'Red-Eyed and Blue'. Fuck double albums.

Simply, one of my favourite albums of any genre. Crackles with energy and possesses a spring and a bounce that is all too rare. Poly Styrene was an electric frontwoman. The saxophone should have featured more in punk. I'd give this six stars if I could

The whole album isn't available on Spotify in the UK. However, what is there is quite lovely. Mellow, understated instrumentation coupled to beautiful, breathy vocals; bar one or two odd production choices (the trip hop percussion on the opening track belies its turn of the millennium provenance) this proved to be a nice surprise.

Yeah, pretty cool - this is Joni's Steely Dan album. Even the cocktail jazz track at the end is hip, for the most part. I still can't quite get along with her voice, but some really inventive music and decent songwriting throughout.

That first track, 'Dominion/Mother Russia' is an absolute banger, and there are a couple of tracks who almost reach those heights. The rest tends to slip back into fairly nondescript goth played on tinny synths and drum machines. At least the warbled singing keeps things interesting

Five stars. Why? Because it's Peace Sells...But Who's Buying by Megadeth, that's why

It costs to three stars on nostalgia alone. Dave Grohl may be the nicest guy in rock, but bless me, I've never found the Foos to be anything more than the most generic of modern stadium rock acts. Wouldn't turn 'em off if they came on the radio, but nor would I ever make a single positive move towards listening to their music. Except, I guess, thanks to this app.

As paleolithic and raw as rock and roll gets. So much to enjoy here, but the fact the final track sounds more like a Tibetan funerary drone than pop music is the icing on the cake.

This contains some of the most remarkable hip hop I've ever heard. It's uneven for sure, and it's yet another rap album that seems to have a duration of two weeks, but these quibbles pale when held up against the sheer weirdness herein. Full of eccentric sci-fi and kooky non sequiturs, I found myself straining to hear what the next oddball lyric would be. Finally, 'Earth People' is a hell of a bop, that synth is fucking sick!

Not entirely sure what to make of this. One lengthy track can be a soothing balm; one whole album can slide into the soporific. There are both cosmic and subterranean aspects to the soundscapes conjured up here, though at times I feel like it's all a little too safe and mannerly, like something composed to be played in a planetarium exhibition. I've been to Iceland, one of the more magic places in the world

Pleasant, grooving low-key funk with some really high-class musicianship on display. It's not the most spectacular record I'll ever hear, but it creates an effective late-night ambience for the most part, bar the odd touch of seasick keyboard playing (I'm thinking here of 'XL-30'). Did anyone else think Otis' singing is not too dissimilar to that of Christopher Cross?

What a strange beast this is - lots of chicken scratch white boy New Wave funk like 'Favourite Shirts' and 'Calling Captain Autumn', the latter of which almost tips over into Oingo Boingo territory. Liberal use of congas and daytime TV saxophone, which I don't mind - and smack bang in the middle is 'Fantastic Day', one of the most wonderfully uplifting examples of indie pop to emerge from the era. I do like it, quite a lot in fact, but a mildly puzzling experience.

I'm one of those tiresome people who would probably give TW five stars for 45 minutes of farting in a bathtub. Nonetheless, this is a hell of a listening experience. Insanely good!

This really sucks. It has none of the menace or intensity of, say, LA Woman; nor, I would aver, much of the poetry. The rinky-dink music exposes the Doors' failings as a blooz band, and unfortunately when they step away from that template it's to play tiresome Korla Pandit organ. Screw this.

A towering blancmange of an album that seems to teeter under it's own weight but manages to hold everything going. It's big, like a Rogers and Hammerstein production, the aural equivalent to a Busby Berkeley number; but underneath it all, deeply conservative, looking backwards both in terms of instrumentation and lyrical themes. The band thus come across more like an overheated Mott the Hoople than anything else; and atop this rock 'n' roll purist maelstrom is the inimitable Meat Loaf, bellowing and wheezing his way through the material like his life depends on it. A triumph, then, albeit a very strange and singular one.

I feel like I've been misled, I thought Laura Nyro was going to be some Laurel Canyon folkie; this was quite something else! Absolutely eccentric in both writing and execution, but exhilirating for all that. I found Nyro's policy of teeing off wildly and playing where it lay to be endearing, but can fully understand that it could be disorienting or frustrating for others. Quite what is this anyway? Mutant show tunes? Soul-jazz-kitchen sink pop?

I only really knew the two biggies from this platter (which are right next to each other); and I'd still be comfortable with that fact had I swerved this album, because I found it boring. Cornell was a great vocalist, true, but so much relies on that preternatural holler; otherwise, the paint box is a bit monochrome. Songs slide into each other without any change in mood or intent - only the subtly shifting tempi offer a clue to the listener. Dull

Nonsense.

Loved every second of this. Like something off the Nuggets compilation but somehow even more guileless than those offerings. The product of an utterly eccentric mind, and all the better for it.

What can you say? High quality mod 'n' roll with a couple of truly iconic moments thrown in. One thinks you can get bored of 'My Generation' but slap that bad boy on, pump up the volume and experience the thrill anew. 'I'm A Man' is quality too, right?

A lovely thing, this. By turns relaxing, touching, gentle and mysterious, it also happens to contain one of my very favourite guitar solos - that's Robert Fripp of King Crimson fame providing the singular contribution in the field to 'St Elmo's Fire'.

When I first searched for this on Spotify the first thing that came up was some jive from The Sims. A damning indictment of modern society. Anyway, this is really good - rhymes are sharp, the beats are accomplished and for once, guest spots are done with taste and intention. Absolutely of its era but no bad thing!

I could go the rest of my life without hearing Bo Rhap again and die a happy man. Yet, in terms of being the cherry on top of this overblown, bombastic confection, it's hard to argue with its aptness. Anyway, this also has 'Death on Two Legs', 'Love of My Life' and an eccentric love letter from Roger Taylor to his favourite motor. Oh, plus 'You're My Best Friend', the best thing Queen ever did. Eclectic, stuffed to the gills and, ultimately, glorious. Where's this ambition these days?

Catchy pop-rock pitched somewhere inbetween Badfinger and Orange Juice, which should be right up my alley. And it is, sort of - but the breathy, cooing singing wears on me after a while. I can take a track or two, but a whole album is just a hit of saccharine too much for moi.

Having never heard of this band in my thirty-something years on this planet, this is the second time in a month I've been compelled to listen to this. Once was from reading a history of the Sex Pistols, where this band were decried as too competent for punk tastes (and sported too prosaic a look); and now this app. It's weathered the years rather well, I think - like some kind of unholy alliance between the Stooges and the Rumour. I reckon you can draw a straight line between this and modern acts like the Hives and Barrence Whitfield & the Savages. I like all the bands I've mentioned so far, and I like this too - energetic, spiky but with enough guile to keep one interested once the adrenaline has settled.

Unpopular opinion - but I think Cohen is whack. His poetry is guff, his music is unlistenable (all eras) and I genuinely believe people pretend to like him for cultural cache. Emperor's new clothes made incarnate. Nonetheless, I gave this another spin to make sure my opinions haven't been coloured by youthful bile, but here we are again, bored out of my skull by Cohen.

Reinforces my long-held belief that the Beastie Boys were - are - capable of moments of brilliance, but overall are just quite good. The highs are very fun - Sabotage being the obvious standout - and I appreciated the Lee Dorsey name check in the first track. Yeah, it's fine, but my mind remains un-blown.

Fine. Not really what I listen to where Brazilian music is concerned - more into their fusion and samba (will we have any Jorge Ben Jor, I wonder?) scenes than tropicalia. Tasteful, smooth and jazzy in equal parts, but disappeared from memory almost the moment it finished. Something something seduced by a teacher something.

Believe it or not but this represented the first time I've listened to an REM album. It's good! Rocks harder than previously imagined, more saxophone too. Might try to 'get into' this band in my mid 30s, which feels a little tragic. Not half as tragic as hepping oneself to ie 100 Gecs though

This is better than the other Joy Division album, but the passage of time hasn't been entirely kind to it. In parts, this just sounds like a miserable Devo, but not as accomplished or creative. Ian Curtis sounds like a cross between Jim Morrison and Fred Schneider of the B-52s. Sorry folks, simply don't get the hullabaloo with this band.

Three albums ago I wondered whether we'd get any Jorge Ben Jor...and here we are! Not his best work in my estimation, but still five stars because it's Jorge Ben in his pomp. A lovely mix of tropicalia and funk, plus he has one of my favourite voices in popular music. Nothing here quite touches the greatness of 'Mas Que Nada', 'Take It Easy My Brother Charles' or 'Pais Tropical', but this is a remarkably cohesive collection with some spiky guitar work and insistent, rolling rhythms. So, so good. Oh, and Rod Stewart ripped off 'Taj Mahal' but made it far worse.

Really fun - Croz is a hell of a singer. Cowboy Movie wouldn't seem out of place as a gritty, choppy cut on a Neil Young platter, whilst Traction In the Rain almost has an iridescent quality to its beauty. I also liked the final tracks, eschewing words for voice and mood. Amongst the best albums this app has so far offered unto us.

On the one hand, it's pretty much variations upon a theme. On the other hand, it's a damn fine theme. The singing, the rolling piano, the overall feel of everything - I suppose it's the limitations of the era's production that I'm enjoying, but there's such a warmth and lushness to it - that I found this album quite irresistible.

Notice that the artwork looks so exceedingly modern? Smashing album by the way, ambitious in scope and, despite the majority of sounds being generated by electronic means, it has a warmth to the sound - and even a touch of humour. German is the perfect language for this kind of electro-futurism. I miss cold mornings in Berlin.

For all its turgid music, tiresome soloing, semi-coherent lyrics and overall self-satisfied idiocy, it's amazing I don't hate this dogshit even more than I do. I thought events reached a nadir with the drum spot on 'The Mule', but Gillan's dipshit shrieking on 'Strange Kind of Woman' takes the fucking cake. Candidate for worst album shat forth from this app thus far.

Not even a heart dose of nostalgia can help this one from running out of puff too early and out staying its welcome. I don't think many albums are so rooted in their particular era as this, but now I wonder what we were all thinking? Norman Cook has a coffee takeout place down by the lagoon in Hove, and he personally served me at the kiosk a few months back. I didn't recognise him.

Dog Man Star? More like, uh [brain shuts down for a good forty minutes, only vital signs a rapid flickering of the eyes] Dog Man Blah

Fun, cheesy, schmaltzy, boring - and altogether quite accomplished, this album is all of these things at different moments. Some of the material here isn't bad at all - that's a hot version of 'Apache', a very decent accounting of 'In A Gadda Da Vida', and 'Bongo Rock' has rolls along nicely. The kind of music that late night radio hosts use in their intro beds. The kind of music you can picture the Gold Digger Dancers high-kicking their way through on a Paul Lynde TV special. It's no 'Night On Disco Mountain', but what is?

Tricksy, whimsical, luminous - manages to be sophisticated but there are pop hooks all over the place. There's a dizzying array of influences on display here, from Harold Arlen to Squeeze; and I would wager that a couple of guys in Jellyfish had this album. Lovely stuff!

I just don't get this kind of plodding, lowest common denominator stuff. No ambition, no real craft, just a few wonky instruments, fey warbling as a stand in for an emotional core and quite a few tracks that veer into stomp-clap-hey territory. I didn't buy it then, and I don't buy it now.

Tiny Dancer remains infectious even if I don't particularly like it. Some dodgy stuff about Native Americans which shows its age. I hadn't heard this album before yesterday, but it contained virtually zero surprises. It sounds like I imagine Madman Across the Water by Elton John would sound. Not a huge fan of John's singing, which often sounds like he's trying to suppress a belch.

Somehow, I've never heard a single Willie Nelson track, knowingly, up until this point. I love this! Understated playing, great storytelling and a voice that holds lots of appeal for me. He deserves to be known better on these shores than as the old boy who likes smoking big doinks. Superb!

In contrast to other 90s dance albums we've had, this is very listenable probably because it follows traditional rock formats pretty closely. Not a million miles from a clattery, electro heavy metal at times. There's a huge dose of nostalgia at play here, but Breathe, Firestarter, Smack My Bitch Up and, especially, Diesel Power (adding another Kool Keith appearance to recent listening on this app) absolutely rule.

The list of personnel involved with this album is studded with legends. A fine album if disco is your bag. What about the rest of us though?

Not for me, friends. I found this exhausting. 'Oh Father' tipped me over the edge. I'm one of those people who have failed to be charmed by Madonna, and Like A Prayer hasn't done anything to shift my opinion one iota.

There were a couple of occasions where I laughed due to surprise, so audacious could Nilsson be with some of his vocal melodies. An extraordinary voice. The same cannot be said for the music, which is quirky in the conservative way a lot of albums of this era are. Still, Nilsson draws on rock, jazz, blues and balladry with aplomb, making this a varied listen - and one that doesn't outstay its welcome.

I'm sure it's good for what it is - who knows, perhaps not? - but this was borderline unlistenable. If only it were background music - alas, the brass is overpowering and obtrusive, with a hysterical quality that pierces through to your innermost core. One of my least favourite offerings from this app.

Hmm...crap, but not quite as crap as I recall. That's growth, boys

Hell yeah

Great - hard to pick any true highlights as every track seems to have a nagging, insistent hookiness to it. Enjoyable word play, tasty samples and some decent guest spots - tip top all-round, really

The old rogue does it again. I've long suspected that Cohen left the heavy lifting of creating decent, listenable music to others, adding gloss by way of his basso profundo doggerel. But he is the most charming of frauds on this album, and he possessed a voice that, pitched between old man Tom Waits and old man Kris Kristofferson, is quite irresistible

Baby's first Steely Dan album, maybe the least satisfying from their initial run, save perhaps their debut. And yet, guess what? It's five stars from me, because it's Steely fucking Dan

What's the deal with this? I hate the production job and for the most part the songs are mid-paced borefests. Plenty here to dislike but the main bugbear is the complete lack of ambition. Still, that 'Electric Eel' song sounded catchy on one of the old FIFA games.

Gruff and bearish is my favourite incarnation of Mr Mojo Risin', and overall this is the best Doors album by a long chalk. There are moments of magic sprinkled throughout, but even the more workaday moments sound of a piece. Has an electric piano sounded sexier?

As the one Brit in the group, faced up with something so aggressively British, I feel I should defend this. It's ambitious - a spoken word concept album, essentially (I would hesitate to call it rap or hip hop) that comes from a very singular perspective. Now, whether you enjoy Skinner's delivery is one thing (I don't), but his use of slang and storytelling, and ability to evoke a mood and atmosphere, are great. This was huge during my first year of university, and probably captured something of the slacker ambience of that time. Speaking of the zeitgeist, however, this album feels dated, a relic before its time - perhaps it was too honed in on the spirit of the age to endure?

This is one of those behemoth albums that seemed to be in every record store, and most people's music collections. Insane that it's taken me this long to listen - especially given its quality. But it ain't perfect, not by a long chalk - the music can be quite beautiful, and REM do a fine line in melancholy, but the tempos can feel a little samey. Minor misgivings though!

At first, I thought this was going to be a bust, given the soupy backing vocals on the opening track. However, these soon charmed me and despite the largely nondescript material, Presley's voice seduced me. The more up-tempo numbers are the best - 'Thril of Your Love', 'Such a Night', 'It Feels So Right' and especially 'Like a Baby' - but the standout is 'Fever'. One of the slinkiest, sexiest joints ever captured on wax, just sublime!

[Gordon Ramsay voice] "'Slide Show'? More like shit show." Seriously, after a night listening to the Dictators and Lightnin' Hopkins, this sounds like baby food music. At least that drab fucking album cover is fair warning of all the beige music one can expect to encounter on this platter. Avoid.

I think I like the idea of RATM more than I enjoy how that idea is executed. Another one that isn't ancient but sounds more dated than albums twice as old. Still fun, though, and righteous.

Hard to know what to make of this, as it frustrates as often as it delights, frequently within the same track. Yet its influence is beyond question - the fingerprints of 'Isi' are found on a slew of contemporary synth acts. It also happens to be a gorgeous piece of music in it's own right.

This used to be my favourite Acca Dacca album but has slipped in recent years. Why? For all its craft, it sounds like the band with the handbrake on. If it's possible to say so, this is a polite AC/DC record, and I don't want a polite AC/DC record.

Sprawling and expansive, with musicians at the peak of their game. I think this still sounds startlingly modern, and it birthed whole subgenres whose best exponents haven't ever quite reached these heights. Whether you like this or not boils down to your tolerance of jazz fusion, I suppose - I reckon this would alienate the casual listener.

Not sure I could take too much of this. Not sure I prefer the lush, delicate Holiday to the earlier, swinging incarnation. But she couldn't sing like that any more, instead pouring every ounce of emotion into her broken voice and creating this heartbreaking collection. Best experienced with lights down low, right?

Not sure anyone hits those harmony sweet spots like these boys. A lovely little collection, marred only by the plinky-plonky fart in a bathtub that's 'Marrakech Express'. The guitar sound on 'Pre-Road Downs' is fucking sick. I don't care if they're a bunch of dickhead hippies, this rules.

Not my cup of tea. Nothing really lands, does it? A bit of a cotton candy album - looks great but take a bit and there's little of substance there.

A real game of two halves - the first side is fairly anonymous synthpop, whilst the second veers off into more interesting and experimental realms. The title track and 'Jennifer' are the standouts, but there's a lot to admire here, not least of all Lennox's voice

Simply can't get excited about this

Ah, an album I've listened to endlessly. It's crass, it's dumb, wilfully offensive every now and again but it possesses so much attitude, cheek and zap-rock power that I find it irresistible. Part of the CBGB scene, and they have a good claim to have been there or thereabouts at the birth of the NYC punk scene. This, and their third album Blood Brothers, kick ass. I live for cars and girls.

The guy who invented the bossa nova beat was called Milton Banana.

This is almost a stereotype of dour, shouty British post-punk. Scratchy, wiry, discordant guitars coupled with anti-materialist sloganeering - I'll say this, the album title is a wonderfully dry bit of business. 'I Love a Man in Uniform' is my favourite Gang of Four track and it ain't here, but this is good stuff nonetheless.

Angular, clattery, post-punk performed on mostly acoustic instrumentation is a good concept, and this is well-executed. 'Blister In the Sun' and 'Gone Daddy Gone' are the obvious earworms here, but there's a lot to enjoy in this weird slacker soundscape.

I've never knowingly listened to a Taylor Swift track, though I recognised a few from this. I found the whole experience utterly depressing. I will always champion something that's incompetent but ambitious versus competent mediocrity, and this falls squarely into the latter camp. I realise I'm not the target audience for this pabulum but someone thinks it's one of a thousand-odd albums I need to hear before croaking. I'm almost glad I did, because it'll make all the other colours brighter. Lyrics and production are terrible, but overall it's the fact that this just sounds so dead that makes me recoil. This feels like music that could be written, and performed, by AI. You could tell me that there wasn't a single trace of human endeavour to be found in 1989 and I would believe you.

Never thought I'd be entering my feedback on a 1950s live Sarah Vaughan album into a mobile phone app, but here we go. What to say? Good if you like this stuff, a headache it not. 'Honeysuckle Rose' is great. I really quite enjoyed this tasteful little set.

Damn

So help me God, but this sucks. Aged like a haddock down the back of a radiator. Aged like fine milk.

Not all the music here is tip top, but I'm giving points for sheer ambition, and for spinning a rather peculiar yarn in the process. Incidentally, when the music clicks, it's fantastic. Stuff like 'Sensation', 'Pinball Wizard', and the Overture/Underture passages are top tier Who

This is different gravy! Top tier roots reggae - cool arrangements and a conceptual consistency that lends the album a rare potency. Burning Spear has a helluva voice. Love it.

Wow, even the best tune on this album is ruined by a slew of homophobic insults. Nice. It's a shame, Knopfler is a guitarist with a sweet style I genuinely like, but too often he goes missing. In place of the fretboard kinetics of 'Sultans of Swing' or 'Lady Writer', we have sub-'Gaucho' era Steely Danisms of 'Your Latest Trick' and the utterly wretched 'Walk Of Life'. 'The Man's Too Strong' starts off promisingly with some nimble folk playing but, alas, it's swamped by the 'tasteful' production of the era. What a mess.

Too hip. Possibly in my top five all time jazz albums. Responsible for a whole subgenre full of bad imitators but, both as the wellspring of an aesthetic and as a standalone collection of music, this is crazy good

This is such an inconsistent listen - topped and tailed by moments of true brilliance ('She's Fresh' - lovely Jimmy Castor Bunch sample, 'The Message') but the meat of the sandwich is hard yakka. 'Scorpio' is almost top tier, a great electro number, but it reaches its nadir when the Furious Five fall over each other to suck up to Stevie Wonder.

Listenable, with a couple of proper standouts - 'Rock Box' absolutely rips - but I'm too distracted by that nursery rhyme delivery particular to so much 1980s hip hop.

This is kinda...crap, no?

Ha, yes, definitely edges out Fred Schneider as the best talking singer. I own this album, it's too hip. Not everything works, but that's often the case with a mind as original as Reed's. I'll always pick a curious failure over mediocre competence

Two-tone was a cool movement, genuinely integrated and responsible for great bands like the Specials, The Selecter and Madness. Previously on this app I stated that I didn't care for polite AC/DC, and to a degree I think the same applies to Madness. Nothing here hits the zany heights of 'One Step Beyond', 'House Of Fun' or 'Night Boat to Cairo'...but as a collection, this is really solid. I don't think a band should be penalised for spreading their wings, and here they try on a few different hats, including cocktail jazz and music hall. There are some quality tracks here too! 'Our House' is a deserved commercial behemoth, but less heralded tunes like 'Tiptoes' and 'Mr Speaker' are ace too. I feel like on this album, Madness were edging into the same territory as Squeeze - and doing it fairly successfully. Bonus points also awarded due to the fact that Suggs' speaking and singing voices are exactly the same.

Yeah, I dig this. The very definition of a three and a half star album for me. It's got a couple of points that are superior - and, in the case of the title track, one of my favourite soul numbers, period - but too much filler creeps in to give it that replay factor. But it's better than average, for sure.

Strange stuff here. I don't actually like the 'classic' Beach Boys harmony sound; comes across as a mess of whooping and hooting. That material sounds tired on this album; and elsewhere, the 'lighter' stuff about feet and trees and whatnot is embarrassing. But there are hints of more interesting horizons here 'n' there, and 'Disney Girls' is a great tune whichever way you fold it.

The background music to a tastefully-lit European sex party. Pretty good.

A brawling, churning album with capital 'p' politics - and it's a great listen. Everything explodes out of the speakers - but highlights include the buzzsaw grind of 'By the Time I Get to Arizona' and the bludgeoning 'Bring The Noise' (possibly the best thing Anthrax ever did, incidentally).

Awful in ways difficult to describe. A performance hammier than a telenovela set on a pig farm, wrapped in spun-sugar arrangements so saccharine they made my teeth melt. This has been, easily, my least favourite offering on this app so far. Punishing Kiss is ridiculous, but not in any kind of fun way - it feels like a horribly calculated misstep. I imagine this is in 1001 albums one must listen to, so that every now and again were are consoled that the sweet embrace of the tomb is not so far away.

I liked this without loving it. It feels like a darker, more forbidding counterpart to Autobahn. I think I would need to be in the mood for something this downbeat, whilst the serene, gliding rhythms of Autobahn went down far easier.

Can't dance to this, can you? Disturbing soundscape that pressages a fair amount of dark ambient. I bet this was cool back in the 1970s with a good set of headphones and a certain degree of, ah, refreshment

Pretty ripe the first time around. Time has, alas, not been kind

Cool - the instrumental cuts are sleek and classy, hitting similar beats to Gaucho era Steely Dan. The title track, featuring Randy Crawford's impeccable vocals, is solid gold. No grit in this oyster, but a muso's dream nonetheless.

There are some really great songs on this - 'Moral Kiosk', 'Catapult' and '9-9' would be my favourites - and a fair amount I don't care for. As for the latter, I think I dislike those songs in thrall of, and built around, Michael Stipe's voice, which I find to be a rather grey and pallid thing. The penultimate track almost sounds like Gerry and the Pacemakers. Uneven but interesting.

Fell asleep briefly in the middle of the day listening to this. When I awoke it was to a cacophony of babbling. Then Mo Tucker sang a song. Most unsatisfying.

Who let Eric Clapton sing? Who let Ginger Baker sing?? There's some proper ballast filling this out, but the best stuff - 'Strange Brew', 'SWLABR', 'Sunshine...' - is simply immense. Anyway, happy new year and fuck that racist dickhead Clapton.

Love her voice. Quite a bit here that I really enjoyed on this rather downbeat offering, but a little too much filler to nudge it into 'repeat' territory. And those interludes - man, why spell things out like that? Show, don't tell!

Entirely pleasant, and a few moments that stood out. But ultimately washed over me in a miasma of pedal steel and cornpone. Quite lovely if it catches you in the right mood, and you can hear its reverberations down through time in almost every subsequent country rock album. Good stuff.

Superb, sounds like a real anachronism coming out at the time it did. King Crimson often sounded more expansive, grown-up and frankly more sinister than their peers - probably because they were. Nice to see a band that was (kind of) from my hometown represented on here!

Fuck yes, five stars is the least I could give this masterpiece. This absolutely rips. Don't make 'em like this any more, do they?

Putting aside what a blooter he is, I simply don't like Morrissey's voice. Some of the music here is pretty fun, but struggling to hear quite what all the fuss is about. Never really given The Smiths a chance before because I've always considered them for soft lads. And, eh, not bad, but not mindblowing

Incubus are a band beloved by my peers but I've always kept at arm's length. With 'Make Yourself', I can see both why people like them, but also feel fully justified in giving 'em the swerve. Funky, hip-hop influenced, vaguely nu-metal - they certainly have their own niche. I like some of their chewy riffs, and for 1999 - the land that good guitar tones forgot - they get some lovely noises out of their instruments. But for all their slippery rhythms and undoubted skill, they're missing the x factor, the thing that allows them to kick free from terra firma and fly. They play it all a little safe, no? Lack of competence can be forgiven (can be a bonus sometimes); lack of ambition cannot.

Cookie cutter indie with absolutely no distinguishing features. Just choke the air with reverb laden guitars and chiming pianos. Make every song sound like an uphill slog with a cheap emotional payoff as your reward. Fuck this, I actively hate this kind of lazy, faux-sincere hogwash

Hey, these guys are onto something here! In all sincerity, I was actually a little surprised at how poorly some of this has aged. The highs are incredible, but there's some right old tripe on this too. Still rather good for all that.

Don't think this could be more 1960s if it tried. Mild psychedelia? Three-chord garage rock? Trippy flute solo? Blue-eyed soul? Check, check, check and check. It all holds together really nicely though! Side two is the strongest, kicking off with the immortal summertime stroller 'Groovin'' and finishing on the wonderful 'It's Love'. My favourite cut, though, is the driving, aggressive 'You Better Run' - it kicks ass on a reasonably wimpy album. Very good all told.

How to fairly review this? Everything is perfectly listenable, so begin at three stars. Some of the arrangements are really soupy - minus one. Plus one for Dusty's voice - she could sing my car insurance policy to me. And add one for the combined effort of 'Son of a Preacher Man' and 'Windmills of Your Mind'? Four stars seems about right. Not huge on torch songs, but this is about as good as they get.

I love this album. Richard Hawley is a weird one - a Big Name in British music, who will always garner critical praise and find top-notch collaborators. But as a popular act, he'll never cut through. That's probably because he's ploughing quite a lonely furrow as Britpop's own Roy Orbison / Johnny Cash revanchist. I'm glad somebody's doing it, as this is gorgeous, lovingly crafted and thick with atmosphere. Hawley shepherds the ghosts of the past with grace and charm, yet there's enough of the man himself here to prevent this being a glorified tribute act.

This baby food was dog awful the first go around when it seemed to be the only music for sale at Borders - on what basis is it considered one of the top 1001 albums to listen to before you die? Just how close to death does one have to be to enjoy David Gray?

Yet another hip hop marathon of under-baked or half-realised ideas. Why can't the producers or artists see fit to trim the fat off these exhausting exercises in immoderation?

This was revelatory in the sense that I've finally been able to pin down the sound I encountered at numerous university open mic nights. Sleepy, hazy, slightly smokey, an aversion to consonants - this is Orton's singing style, and subsequently that of many lesser campus imitators. Anyway, this is a bit disappointing, because much of the promising material gets lost in Orton's rather monochrome delivery. It's an arresting voice at first, but the ersatz keening melancholia wears thin after a while. 'So Much More' is easily the highlight, and the one time where I think we hear a range of colours in Orton's voice. She should've leaned into the light goth-folk a little more; unfortunately, much of the filigree on Central Reservation comes from bland electronica instrumentation. The start of 'Stars All Seem to Weep' sounds like something from the soundtrack to Streets of Rage II.

Morrissey is a shit but he does have a way with words and a mordant wit that I do enjoy despite this. The music itself isn't exactly the stuff that floats my boat - pleasant enough but unambitious - though fundamentally listenable. Separate art from artist and this is pretty good! Pretty good! I'm fine with this, really! Not bad!

Cat Steven's was supposed to be the patron saint of the patchouli-infused bedsit dweller, and as such I thought it would all be a little more fey than this. I like it when there's a bit of bite in Stevens' voice! 'Wild World', despite its rather patronising chorus hook, and 'Father and Son' are rightly lauded as standouts. The other thing that struck me is the production - every instrument feels very live and present. I'd happily listen to this again.

Wow - this feels like it had a bit of everything; hard funk, psych soul, yacht rock, even something resembling a Zappa instrumental. Unlike other lengthy albums, not one moment felt like a chore. So many chewy, fun musical ideas here. 'I Wish' was my favourite song on this collection, but as someone not particularly familiar with Stevie Wonder, it was a kick to hear the track that Coolio's biggest hit was built around too.

These guys were huge, but on closer inspection sound a lot like the Quireboys. Smatterings of Foghat, Blackfoot and the less interesting aspects of Zep too. I could dig it, but if I bought the album it would probably be lost in the shuffle. Three and a generous half stars?

Really enjoyed this, even if the musical hooks aren't quite there to push it into the stratosphere. Great MCing, especially on the more humorous tracks. In terms of texture it doesn't feel a million miles from Souls of Mischief.

Doesn't this feel very distant from the modern renderings of country music, be it pop, outlaw or whatever stripe you care to name. Yet despite the lush arrangements and lack of shorthand country signifiers, this is a bold and interesting take on the genre. 'I Can't Stop Loving You' and 'Careless Love' are stupendous. Country music in a big band format? Works for me - especially when interpreted by Charles. Just a guy I love to hear sing!

A listenable album that has a bit of an identity crisis. It starts out sounding like the Cars, there's some Police in there, and finishes up sounding like latter-day Oingo Boingo. Still, Lauper has a distinctive voice and the first half especially is full of hooks. Fun without being essential.

Curious how this one snuck into the top 1,001 as I reckon it's unremarkable, verging on dull. Opener 'Darkness, Darkness' is by far the best cut on this joint but even that is ruined by the 'trippy' production - see Robert Plant for a superior version. A couple of nice modal, folksy riffs can't make up for a whole bunch of blah.

My goodness, so many good songs here. And so many that I didn't realise I knew. Pick of the bunch is 'Baby Driver', but I'm wondering - did these guys pioneer noise gated drums? Otherwise, what is that snare sound on the title track and 'The Boxer'? What an achievement. Going to go buy a physical copy of this bad boy post haste.

Sprawling, ambitious and yet I feel like the songwriting never tapers off. Essentially a meditation upon southern identity viewed through the lens of the Lynyrd Skynyrd plane crash - feels like the hardscrabble obverse to Randy Newman's more arch and mannered 'Good Ol' Boys'. 'Ronnie and Neil' is one of the best rock songs I've heard in a good while. There's another track that kicks off by talking about seeing Blue Oyster Cult on acid, aged 14 - excellent.

Eh, I like the way these guys play in the studio. Let loose in a live environment, however, and they become self-indulgent. There's simply not enough present in their undoubted facility with blues rock to keep me hooked on these lengthy jams. And the longeurs are a shame, because in more concise forms 'Statesboro Blues' and 'Whipping Post' are damn fine songs

Not sure how to rate this. Parts of this album truly irked me, but there were other aspects that felt truly affirming. I have to applaud the ambition on display, too. I am, however, in no particular rush to listen again

Unabashedly love this. At Reading Festival one year I had given up watching Blur because they were dogshit and Damon Albarn was a stumbling mess. Instead I dodged into a tent just in time to see Billy Bragg get going. What a performance! Great, impassioned performances and anecdotes that roamed from overtly political to romantic. And that's what I hear in this album, too. Yeah, 'Power in the Union' (comrades! Does this not warm the blood?) is the big one but there's so much here that is honest, big hearted and not without craft. I love Bragg's voice, too. None of this mid-lantic bobbins, despite Bragg's Amerophiliac tendencies (at least, where music is concerned).

Much of this washed over me, but in a very pleasant way. There are some wonderful standouts such as 'I Know What I Like' and 'Firth of Fifth', the latter especially containing some wonderful textures. Listen closely and there's often something interesting happening - problem is, I wasn't compelled to zoom in enough

It's long been fashionable to dump on the Eagles. Charges include their insipid songwriting, privilege of facility over feeling and just downright dullness. I think those are fair critiques, to an extent. Side two of 'Hotel California' ticks those boxes; 'Last Resort' being the prime culprit. But side one - it's pretty good, no? The title track is overplayed but, when rationed out, still has a kick to it. 'Life in the Fast Lane' is a genuinely good cautionary tale of excess. The Eagles are a strange duck, as they can be great or terrible, sometimes in the span of the same song. At least this platter didn't contain 'James Dean', in my top five hated rock songs of all time.

Really tuneful jangly indie that leans almost into power pop territory. None of the songs outstay their welcome, so each is like a technicolour splash in the ol' auditory canal. Nothing stood out, which is perhaps a strength - ie, everything here is of a consistent high quality

Perhaps this isn't particularly ambitious - we ain't talking Captain Beefheart here - but there's a lot of quality on display here. It sounds like the instrumentation actually relies on decent performances rather than a cut 'n' shut ProTools job, and the production is sympathetic. But let's not beat around the bush, the main attraction is Adele's remarkable voice. Like, say, a Dusty Springfield, she is able to elevate the material. Some of the choruses here absolutely soar. Amused that the percussion intro to 'I'll Be Waiting' resembles that of Isaac Hayes' 'Good Love 69-9-69'.

Not for me, boyos!

One of the first jazz albums to come into my possession. This could be seen as 'baby's first jazz' in some respects, as it's a light, clean listen with enough toe-tappers for popular appeal. However, even repeated exposure to 'Take Five' hasn't dimmed its lustre. There's a high degree of sophistication at play here - Brubeck was influenced by the rhythms of Balkan and Bulgarian folk music, so 'Take Five', 'Blue Rondo...' step outside of 4/4 time and take the cool paradigm into slippery places. Five stars all the way, I spin this one frequently.

This, to the younger version of me, was the entrepot to a world of music I couldn't even conceive of existing. Simply, I'd never heard guitar like this. 'Foxy Lady' has probably enjoyed the longest afterlife - and it is a priapic blooter of gigantic proportions - but as I've got older, it's the more subtle tracks that have revealed their charms to me. That outro solo to 'May This Be Love' is one of the most lyrical guitar parts I've ever heard. Magic stuff.

These guys certainly knew how to filch from the best, I'll give them that!

I love this, unabashedly. I can tell why my grandpa had his first heart attack! Hotcha! Seriously though, this album overflows with a joy and brio that more than compensates for its vintage. The opening medley was hip enough for David Lee Roth to cover, but it's not even the highlight. I love the spritzing of the ol' italiano in 'Oh, Marie'; I love the clever silliness of 'The Lip'; I love the spot of Grieg dropped in to 'Body and Soul'. It's rare that an album combines fun with chops so adroitly. Also, isn't Prima's huffy foghorn voice wonderful? Yes, through the lens of the present day he would be charged with cultural appropriation - ever since Mezz Mezzrow, white guys in jazz had tried to mesh by sounding like they'd swallowed Cab Calloway's 'Hepster Dictionary' wholesale. Still, this is wonderful - and didn't Prima do a fine job in the Jungle Book also?

I like it - raw and rudimentary in execution but this really blows the cobwebs away. I can understand the influence this supposedly had on punk, but what I hear most strongly coming through is the first couple of J Geils Band albums. 'Boss Hoss' especially so, but the cover of 'Money' also seems to have its reflection in the J Geils' version of 'First I Look at the Purse'. Tidied up a little and 'Have Love Will Travel' would've been a monster hit in the 00s for one of the big garage band revival acts.

I actively dislike 'Sympathy for the Devil' - those background hoots really grate. The sexual politics of 'Stray Cat Blues' are grim. 'Prodigal Son' is the closest Jagger got to outright minstrelsy. Yet, I love the album - and those latter two tracks are superb, in their own way. Hell, I don't think I'd have ever tried open tuning were it not for 'Prodigal Son'. Elsewhere, 'Street Fighting Man' swaggers around, whilst my favourite track is the iridescent slow blues of 'No Expectations'. Not quite my favourite Stones album, but close.

Decent, could possibly creep into a four star album on another day. At times these guys sounded like a more rough-and-tumble version of Television; or perhaps a more polite Stooges. The genuinely emotive vocals add welcome grit to the rather polished production. This is only a few primal howls short of true brilliance - but this record never quite overcomes its own innate good manners to reach this point.

Big, brassy Afro-Cuban jazz with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not particularly unpleasant to listen to, though some of the horn stabs could feel a bit pugnacious. Still, I doubt I will ever listen to this again - it simply failed to land with me.

A tad rudimental, no? But for all that, effective rock 'n' roll. My views on Oasis have mellowed with age, and I've come to appreciate the idiosyncratic vocal delivery pitched halfway between John Lennon and Johnny Rotten. A nice, stompy collection of of big rock numbers that delivers subtlety like a smack around the chops - and all the better for it.

In retrospect, this was a load of old pump, wasn't it? The most half-finished, half-baked sounding album encountered on this app so far, despite it dragging on for an hour.

Da Crapo. (But seriously, what's going on here? Because I absolutely adore the follow up album. This one feels so unfocused and messy. Even the biggie, 7 and 7 Is, sounds half-realised. The biggest bum note, though, is Revelation. They're simply not a good enough or interesting enough group of musicians to pull off an eighteen minute-and-change track. Hell, even the best struggle at times. Do yourselves a favour and head directly to Forever Changes where Love is concerned.)

Am I the only person who finds the whole Prince deal to be faintly ridiculous? And I say that as someone who went to see him in concert. A man as naturally charismatic and sexy as Prince didnt need to try so hard, but nonetheless he does. Everything feels so sweaty and unnecessary. The production is incredible, there are so many tricks and juicy bits to enjoy but ultimately I'm left feeling hollow.

This one properly comes out swinging, but then sinks into a kind of jangle pop torpor, only to pick up again near the end. The longeurs of the mid-set sag are enough to drag this down a star or two. Still, there's a nice variety in the sonic palette here, and the lyrics are as arch and knowing as one might expect. Good, without being great - 'A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours' being the standout.

This is, and I don't mean this in any pejorative sense, the most 1990s album I've encountered thus far on this app. Still, I really enjoy the slinky vocals, and for the most part the songs hang together nicely without really popping. You don't tend to hear guitar or hi-hat tones like that in modern productions any more, do you? Highlight is the enigmatic 'Queer', though most of this is very listenable.

The template for this album will unfold is established early on, but that doesn't prevent this from being half an hour of fun. Plus, Little Richard was a charismatic, expressive singer who could carry even the more pedestrian material through character alone. 'Tutti Frutti' is a classic that deserves its place in the annals of rock 'n' roll, a wild, swinging number - but 'Jenny Jenny' and 'She's Got It' come close to capturing the kind of abandon that made LR such a draw. A honking sax and some proper piano pumping - good fun, even if there's not much to sit with once the music stops.

Having read the band described as punk-funk-reggae-metal I was filled with dread. Am I just a snob? Nonetheless, this is a four star album that I'll most likely never listen to again. Kicking off an album with a funk metal cover from Curtis Mayfield's best album is a ballsy move - but, as is shown again and again, Fishbone have the chops to pull it off. I found this to be a lot of fun whilst pottering about my kitchen - a mini-riot of genres and styles painted in bold technicolour. Evidently they're great musicians. However, it doesn't stick - this is fun in the vein of a fairground waltzer ride; good craic whilst it lasts.

The strange thing here is that Janis Joplin's reputation is often staked on her R&B prowess, but I think her best performances here are on 'Me and Bobby McGee' (country) and 'Trust Me' (soul ballad). When the band gets hot she pushes herself to match the energy and I'm not sure I like the results quite as much. Still, this is a great collection - production is crisp, the execution is on point and I even like the instrumental track. Sad that this was Joplin's final testament, as there are hints as to what could have been.

This was fun! A little repetitive at times, but that's inherent to the form, I guess. A huge undertaking to make a catchy, danceable album using sound collages. Very cool, very impressive.

Is it terrible that I found this really dull? Repetitive soundscapes, fairly boring and unvarying delivery by Ice Cube and a production that grates rather than pops. As a chronicle of anger at racism and institutional discrimination it is eloquent. As an apologist for some of Cube's prior stated positions, it's iffy. As entertainment, it doesn't cut it for this listener.

I wanted to do this properly - give the album a good listen, dissect the good and bad, try to dig out why this merits being on this app. However, and with all due respect, this is absolute dog. The one thing I will say is that I can hear echoes of Carey in a slew of artists who trailed in her wake, so its influence is not to be doubted. The music itself is crap - without the vocals, it's what you get when on hold to your car insurer. Surprisingly, the vocals are rank, too. Carey is no doubt a supreme technical singer, but her primacy of technique over feeling leaves this a real mess of melisma. With some more judicious choices the ballad 'Butterfly' could be a lovely song. And by 'judicious', I mean 'restrained'. Even that husky, breathy ersatz sotto voce (her greatest legacy) fails to sound sexy when it's pumping and heaving against a wall of similar vocals, trilling and gushing to fill every last corner of the soundscape. It has the potential to harrow. Hell, there's even a bit in my favourite track where Carey sounds like she's struggling to breathe properly. I'm sure someone can correct me on her breath control, but much of the time it's as if she's about to sneeze.

As a rock dude I feel like I should be much more reverent towards Machine Head than I am. It has a couple of legitimately fantastic tracks like 'Highway Star' and 'Space Truckin'' - and even 'Smoke On the Water', a right old plodder, cruises by on the basis of *that* riff. But the rest of Machine Head veers between mediocre and annoying. The Purps take themselves and their lumpen proto-metal far too seriously. And in Gillan, they have the perfect frontman for this guff - hammy, self-important and as subtle as a brick sandwich. Still, Paice and Blackmore made 'em listenable.

I like this stuff! A whole album does somewhat soak into the walls a little, but there's a three-song run in the middle of the album beginning with 'A Pair of Brown Eyes' and finishing with a rendition of Ewan MacColl's 'Dirty Old Town' that is quite magical. Now, what do we all think of the Irish accents? Is this any different from European rock and popacts doing an American twang when singing? Or does it seem like a calculated attempt at injecting an extra dose of authenticity into the mix?

Wow, this is a disappointment. I'd been looking forward to this given its revered status, but I'm left with a feeling of emperor's new clothes about the whole experience. I will say this - I appreciate the animating spirit, and I think the instruments themselves really pop out of the speakers. It crackles with vitality, but the execution is wanting. Really simple song structures that pretty much go quiet-loud-quiet-loud. I've read a fair bit about Surfer Rosa and will seek out some more reviews as I want to be clued into what I'm missing.

Impressive, inasmuch as this seems almost precision-engineered to annoy the living fuck out of me

I own this album already - not my favourite, definitely a bit of a curio, but the Cramps managed to extract the gothic potential from rockabilly. A novel, creative and quite original enterprise, even though I'm not wholly in love with the results

Slick, haughty and perhaps even a touch forbidding - Duran Duran in their pomp sound like a band that simply didn't produce music for the lumpenproletariat. But before you dismiss this as the soundtrack to boardroom cocaine binges, think again; the boys knew how to write a brilliant pop song, even when mucking around with the rule book. All the big songs on here - 'Rio', 'Hungry...' shimmer and shine; perhaps even better are 'Save a Prayer' with its wonky synth riff, and 'The Chauffeur', a startling slice of pop modernism. 'Rio' still sounds a bit like the future.

Hard to pick this one apart. Sufficient perhaps to just say that this is one of the greatest jazz albums in the history of the genre - and maybe on of the greatest albums, full stop?

Very interesting - a sound that is of the blues, but not blues; of country, but not country; yet these two elements are blended in too thickly to to allow this to be simply called post-punk. This is wiry, haunted music sometimes played with the lope of Bob Wills or the prowl of a Howlin' Wolf. The main characteristic, though, is how organic and alive the band sounds, shifting and shuffling tempos and dynamics with none of the lockstep niceties of a metronome. Peculiar, singular, rootsy, a little gothic even. Hard to recall hearing too much like this before now.

I really like the timbre of Khaled's voice but two things really let this down - cheap-sounding production and a lack of memorable songs. A more sympathetic backing would elevate this more than exponentially. Perfectly listenable, but not my cup of mud, brutha.

Runs out of puff a little on the final furlong, but for fans of classic rawk-oriented grunge, this is top notch. Bangers sprinkled all over the place on this platter. I will say this - as impressive as Vedder's voice is, I do find it a little bit of a battering ram at times. A little more colour in the singing and instrumentation might have pushed this into five star territory. Still - all very listenable!

An album I already own, and for good reason - rock hard fusion played by some of the best in the biz. Not sure anyone who isn't already on the jazz train will be converted, although this bad boy does a decent job of reaching across the aisle to the funksters

Sheer class. What's more remarkable is that this disco-funk-soul crossover seems to have been a fully human endeavour. If you think you're hearing a trumpet, it's because you're hearing a trumpet. And that's no drum machine - that's the metronomic ministrations of the late great Tony Thompson. 'Le Freak' is an obvious highlight, and still sounds ultra fresh. I also really enjoyed the cool instrumental 'Savoir Faire', 'I Want Your Love' and '(Funny) Bone'. Hell, the much lamented Bernard Edwards gives a nice vocal on 'Happy Man'. Truth be told, everything hits on 'C'est Chic', whether it's the party bangers or the slow burners. Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards at their peak.

A musty, dark and rather crabbit little album - if you forget that it's also casually helping to invent heavy metal in the first place. The interplay between Ward's impressionistic drumming and Butler's bass playing is beautiful. Yes, Iommi provided the huge riffs ('Iron Man' pretty much kick-starting the entire doom metal genre) but it was the boys in the rhythm section who ensured Sabbath's sound remained so idiosyncratic. Lovely stuff!

Gives hope to all of us bums with out-of-tune acoustic guitars! Listenable, if not quite as remarkable as legend has it. Both 'The Man Who Sold the World' and especially 'Where Did You Sleep Last Night' crackle with menace and verve, but there are a few moments here that fade into the background. Still, a cool record of an undoubtedly landmark moment. Acoustic and semi-acoustic shows by full bands are quite the norm now, in big part due to the Unplugged series.

I like space rock, or at least I thought I did. Turns out I like a specific strain - namely that howling, swooping variety based on motorik rhythms as pioneered by the likes of Hawkwind. Perhaps I just like Hawkwind. With Hawkwind, you felt like you were on a truly cozmik psychonautic rough ride; Spacemen 3, at least on this album, prefer to float in the stratosphere. It's deep in atmosphere and no doubt scratches a certain itch. 'Lord Can You Hear Me' is a pretty, haunting tune. 'Revolution' is the closest they come to achieving blast off. Perhaps a little too spaced out for my liking overall.

This one feels especially inessential. I suppose the one thing in its favour is, were you to ask me to simply imagine a rock album from 1997, the resulting mental composite would sound a lot like 'Tellin' Stories' by the Charlatans. 'One To Another' has a bit of a sting in the tail; 'How High' ain't too bad; and I quite enjoyed the quirky instrumental 'Area 51'. Everything else just sounds safe, conservative, uninspired and boring.

Like a less artful Rolling Stones in places. I like the production and the overall vibe, though goodness only knows what the singer is doing on the first track - it sounds like he's gargling his own tongue.

This is very good, on the basis that you like music that shuffles about and murmurs to itself without particularly going anywhere. But why should it? It's a cozy, finely wrought soundscape that Beck has pieced together here, and the result is an album that is a quiet joy. Why not a five? Perhaps it's just a little too comfortable with itself. A minor criticism though...

Well. The music is utterly forgettable indie rock with all the trimmings. Lyrically, there are a couple of zingy moments. But my goodness, that's a voice one could get bored of very, very quickly. So wearing and wearisome, in fact, that these hangdog vocals overshadow everything else. In an already muted soundscape, such a lugubrious performance merely serves to poison the well. Good name for a band, though.

Tell your sons about the Wu.

Waits has carved out quite the niche, playing rackety, gothic shaggy dog tales from the demimonde on a bunch of instruments that feel like they're on the verge of falling apart. And I love it!

Only a lack of focus stops this from being a great album. The opening salvo of 'Band on the Run', 'Jet' and 'Bluebird' is as good as anything in pop. Sounds fantastic on a decent set of speakers. What more should I add? Does anyone need to observe that Paul McCartney knows his way around a tune? I assume this has been noted in the past.

Well, 'Starstruck' and the weird, slightly unsettling 'Monica' are two of my favourite Kinks tracks; whilst 'Picture Book' is one of my favourite pop songs, full stop. Just those three songs alone warrant five stars. But you know what? The rest is a joy too - charming, ambitious and seemingly unfettered by received notions of what rock music should treat as its subject matter. Very British, wry, observant and rather lovely.

I always say to myself that I prefer reggae at the rootsier end of the spectrum...and then this polished, pop-oriented album comes along and makes a mockery of my supposed convictions. Anchored by probably the finest rhythm section in reggae, this is full of bangers - I'm not even a huge fan of 'Three Little Birds' not 'One Love / People Get Ready', and it doesn't matter because everything preceding these is solid gold. And these two tunes, whilst a bit saccharine for my tastes, are perfectly listenable. 'Jamming' is playful, with a great vocal hook in the verse; 'Natural Mystic' lopes along with a kicky, underrated bassline; and 'Waiting In Vain' is a lovely song brimming with yearning. Oh well - back to The Congos for me!

Big fun, a record that swings mightily, almost in defiance of the experiments in jazz going on around them. With musicians playing free and post bop just around the corner, it almost feels audacious that Basie would pick this particular moment to detonate a powerhouse big band record of this magnitude.

I don't think the one-two punch of openers 'Alone Again Or' and 'A House Is Not a Motel' has ever been bettered. What a strange, illusory collection of songs. Everything kinda falls between the cracks of folk, rock and psychedelia. Just when you think you have a handle on a lyric, some discordant image jumps out to unnerve or surprise. A dark and disquieting moment in the midst of the Summer of Love.

Having never knowingly listened to kd lang, I didn't quite know what to expect - but it wasn't this. From what I'd read, I was expecting something more countrified, but in the main this is quite syrupy pop rock. A couple of numbers land, and it must be said that lang has a remarkable voice - but it can't carry a collection of unimaginative, safe arrangements. A little more grit in the oyster would've benefited this album. Still, if you're after a smooth, well-executed song cycle with a splash of the prairie and a a few neat chord progressions, you could do a lot worse than Ingenue.

This could quite easily be a Wu Tang Clan album - RZA helming production, Method Man's personality shining through, similar dusty-sounding beats and samples. And it's fine, not great, not bad, but fine. It doesn't pop as much as the first Wu Tang release, and it can be a little samey; proceedings are enlivened when guest performers appear. Still, MM is an inventive craftsman - even when playing it safe, the results are satisfying.

Good singing, good playing - and, truly, a couple of moments of transcendence. Of course, the entirety of 'Layla' - but also the gliding 'Why Does Love Got To Be So Sad', and let's throw 'Bell Bottom Blues' into the mix - it's like a superior David Gates number. The rest can be hard work - do we really need over nine minutes of blues workout 'Key to the Highway', especially this rather pedestrian version? 'It's Too Late' is a real fucking snoozer, so I guess it's good that 'Layla' wakes you up directly afterwards. No, too much of this album reeks of the smug satisfaction of a bunch of musos 'getting in together', yet, with a few notable exceptions, failing to do anything fun, original or affecting. Where's the passion, the madness, the lifeforce that powers the very best music? It's barely hinted at here. The pipe and slippers, however, were surely not too far away...

The doomiest of the classic era Sabbath albums - you can almost hear a whole new genre being birthed - but probably the least sticky in terms of riffs. I love the 1970s inasmuch as you could put some rammell like 'Laguna Sunrise' on an album like this, and you can even get away with 'FX', which sounds like some aimless noodling. You know what though? Slightly clunky piano aside, 'Changes' ain't half bad, even though the late Charles Bradley made it his own. Pioneering in terms of head-crushing doom; emblematic in the 'anything goes' way a lot of rock from this era was. Which I find charming.

What's the big deal here? It's alright, reasonably listenable rock music. A singer who is by turns affecting and irritating, and some really crap production choices, are the standouts here. Decent drummer, too

So I have to slog through all these clunky keyboard tones without even a "VALERIIIIEEE - CALL MEEEE" as compensation? Fair play though, Winwood played every note on this album. Suits a certain mood, a fairly classy but anonymous collection overall. An absolute Rolls Royce of a voice.

Simply Red (and Mick Hucknall) have long been the butt of jokes and the sneers of critics on these shores, and as such I was primed to join in with the ludification. But...this is really good. Hucknall is a good singer, the album is full of grooves, and in 'Holding Back the Years' they have a ballad for the ages. I really dig the light funk groove that pervades - 'Come to My Aid', 'Jericho', 'Money's Too Tight' all sparkle. 'Sad Old Red' is a very decent cabaret jazz number. One that I'll stick on the stereo again in the near future.

Even at its hokiest and most derivative, there is a strain of 1970s rock that is still very listenable because it has a certain groove and feeling behind it. 'A Nod's...' falls squarely in this category, although I'm doing it a little disservice as some of the material is strong - 'Miss Judy's Farm' heaves and sweats, 'Stay With Me' is rollicking good fun, and the ballads are generally done well. Also in its favour are two distinctive vocalists, which add a little variety to the mix. Overall, the tumbledown charm mitigates against hearing yet another uninspiring minor pentatonic blooz rock riff being squeezed out for the umpteenth time. This album is like an arm thrown boozily around the shoulder by some reprobate mate as he leads you to another bar - even though you had originally planned for a quiet pint or two. Good fun!

It's fine, whatever. Faded into the background. I know people who rave about this album but it barely left a mark. A couple of tracks sounded like 1980s era Stranglers. Oh well.

Joan Armatrading has produced some great, albeit inconsistent, albums down the years and can turn out memorable songs. 'Love and Affection', found here, is probably her most famous - deservedly so, it's gorgeous. There's a pleasing restlessness to the rest of the album, as Armatrading explores a range of moods and approaches. It may not always stick first time around but the songwriting is top notch and the proceedings are held together nicely by Armatrading's ringing guitar attack. One to sit with, but patience has its rewards.

To quote the late Norm Macdonald, "critics called it everything, from shit to fucking shit."

How peculiar. Technique starts off with some pungent electro in the form of 'First Time', and later on 'Vanishing Point' picks up the baton...but in between it's a whole load of anaemic indie-ish synthrock. Sung, I should add, in the most characterless voice imaginable. A band whose appeal I've never truly understood, and this album hasn't really helped me. The filler-to-killer ratio is worse than Iron Maiden's - and this is one of their better albums? Give me a break.

Already own this album, and I have to admit - after The Kick Inside, this one took a while to grow on me. But grow it did! Kate Bush's lush soundscapes are augmented with prominent use of synthesised sounds, including what I take to be a Fairlight - and it works. Yes, it's a sleeker proposition than many of the preceding albums. That works for me! Hell, there's even a Mick Karn bass line on 'Heads We're Dancing'. Bush's singing is every bit as characterful as it ever was, and on this release seems to find new depths of feeling. Am I off-base by suggesting that this is Bush's most overtly feminist collection to date? Regardless, it's indebtedness to New Wave aside, The Sensual World is a peculiar, original, lovely creation.

Springsteen has long posed something of a conundrum to me, and 'Darkness...' does little to contradict this notion. But first, let me say that this album is damn good. As a Brit, I see Springsteen, for better or worse, as the rocker who most embodies a version of America that is hardscrabble and tough, but nonetheless finds time to dream. My issue is that the music scoring this widescreen movie can either feel extraordinary or utterly prosaic - often on the same album. So 'Badlands' is enjoyable but sounds like a Meat Loaf album track; the next joint, 'Adam Raised a Cain', is superlative. The E Street Band always sound best when they're revving their engines, a coiled knot of potency just ready to explode. The best example here - and my favourite song - is 'Candy's Room'. Still, despite my carping the ebb and flow of 'Darkness...' works and the sound is as distinctive as it is big. Highly recommended, flaws 'n' all.

After two tracks I was ready to write this off as Teenage Fanclub on percocets, but I was wrong. This morphed into a weird, ugly and intriguing beast, spackled with moments of rage and white noise. Awkward, angular and unsettling, it's not a comfortable listen, but it is rewarding.

I had a lot of fun listening to this joint! Costello wears a number of different hats, and does it well. At times he alternately sounds like Graham Parker, the Ronettes, Randy Newman and even the Atlanta Rhythm Section - or do they sound like him? Anyway, short, sharp songs redolent of the pub rock scene, without a whole lot of frippery but plenty of flash. A fantastic record.

It's a sound I like and could listen to a lot of - which, oddly, is why it doesn't rate very highly. The real potent stuff I tend to leave on the shelf for special occasions. This is something I could have choogling along in the background most days. The rhythms are fun, the brass arrangements are punchy and Kuti has an expressive voice with just a touch of sandpaper. All to the good. What this otherwise fun set lacks is grabbability - and nor do I feel the need to accost a man by the lapels to implore that he listen to Femi Kuti. Pleasant without being essential.

Uncomplicated - perhaps undemanding music? - that floats by in that rather weightless way peculiar to 1980s production. Aside from Vega's acoustic guitar, every other noise in the mix has a shiny, frictionless quality to it. Neither good nor bad, just an observation. However, the songwriting is strong; Vega does the observational and confessional well, albeit the latter is tempered by the coolness of her delivery. She sounds utterly in control of her music, and thus of her emotions. If you're looking for renting of garments and gnashing of teeth, it's not here. Still, Vega is listenable here, I find her precise vocals very appealing, and nothing offends the ear. I kinda wish it would...

What am I meant to say? I am a man of metal, and Motorhead (despite Lemmy's frequent protestations that they were just a good ol' rock 'n' roll band) were a lodestone for so much that fucking ruled about heavy music - a cool look, intense volume, badass logo, killer albums. This is raw, raucous and delivered at 100mph. The best Motorhead albums are Overkill, Bomber and Ace of Spades; the vast majority of choons on No Sleep... come from Overkill, Bomber and Ace of Spades. Perfect. If you don't like music that sounds like it could kick your head in, you won't like this; if you're a metal fan, surely it's an automatic five stars? I was born in Hammersmith, you know...

One of a clutch of artists, amongst whom number Vanilla Fudge, Cream and Iron Butterfly, who were all groping towards the sound that Black Sabbath would perfect - heavy metal. File this one under proto-metal. To modern ears, this sounds like a mess, quite frankly, and in indulgent one at that. It's as if the thundering ramalama of it all would compensate for a lack of craft or technique. And , hey, perhaps it did. Maybe back in 1968 if you were suitably, ah, 'chemically refreshed', Blue Cheer would've sounded great. I'm afraid that the average white-sock kombucha-sipping asshole won't ever be able to tune into the frequencies required to fully appreciate this heavy-psych mindquest. Well, call me an asshole too, because whilst I'm appreciative of the role in music history this played (doesn't 'Summertime Blues' sound like Acid Bath?), Vincebus Eruptum sounds like what it is; a very 'eavy, very 'umble museum piece.

Am I being unfair to assert that Straight Outta Compton comes in like a lion but out like a lamb? I certainly feel like it's front loaded - the title track, 'Fuck the Police' and 'Gangsta Gangsta' are the hottest three joints on the platter. Still, even if the craft isn't quite there on the rest of the material, it coasts by on aggression and charisma - mostly. There are a couple of missteps - 'Compton's N The House' is an embarrassment - but for the most part the only deficiencies are a fairly unwavering rhythmic approach and, alas, Eazy-E's verses. It's also hard to deny how unpleasant some of the sexist and homophobic takes sound in 2022, but if I'm honest, Ice Cube's excoriating 'I Ain't Tha 1' can still raise a grin.

I can't believe that I found myself enjoying a Billy Joel album so much. I felt the same creeping shame as someone entering their credit card details onto a German fetish website. Shame, mingled with pleasure. You can't deny that this man knows his way around a tune, even if his miniature dramas don't quite pulse with the same vitality as that of a Springsteen. I'm yet to hear a song that mentions 'Hackensack' that I don't like.

I really like this album - good energy, great musical performances and astute song selection. But - and this may be heresy to some - I'm likely in a minority of one when I say that I don't particularly like Aretha Franklin's voice. Maybe because it played John the Baptist to a slew of wailers and caterwaulers, but it grates on me a little. Still - a fine record.

New to Elliott Smith and now I wish I wasn't. This is great pop-oriented indie strongly reminiscent of the first Big Star album. I love that, so it's natural I like this too! A smidge more concision wouldn't go amiss, but there is some really strong, interesting songwriting here and some really cool textures in the sound.

Well well well Let's hear it For the boys

Really hard for me to come at this album objectively as I've owned a copy for years, and I play it frequently. Very frequently. An astounding collection of music, originals combining with a deft choice of covers. Even when it's not their own material, the Isley's put their stamp on it - would anyone disagree with me that this is the definitive version of 'Summer Breeze'? What really gives 3+3 wallop is Ernie Isley's guitar, beamed in from outer space. It's truly a sound I could enjoy all day. When he's absolutely wailing in the latter part of 'That Lady Pts 1 and 2' I am in my happy place. What a life-affirming album!

Rhythm Nation 1814 manages, somehow, to be a satisfying and frustrating listen at the same time. I swear it's all down to the sequencing. The top of the album is loaded with squelchy bass-heavy stompers; the tail consists of twinkly dream-pop, its influence palpable in acts like We Are King. Somehow, the two dullest songs - 'Love Will Never Do' and 'Livin' in a World' - find themselves sandwiched back-to-back. Somewhere amidst all this is 'Black Cat', one of my favourite songs by any of the Jackson clan. Despite some individual clunkers, RN1814 is not boring as a listening experience. It's lopsided for sure but this gives it a mildly eccentric character. And hey, it contains some excellent pop.

I dunno, it just feels like these guys are spoofers. I read so much about their music, and I get heated about giving it a listen, but when I get around to it, invariably I feel let down. Hail to the Thief is no exception. Anaemic for sure, and for all its ambition it also manages to be incredibly boring, the worst sin where music is concerned. Shit production too.

An album I already own - and it's a corker. Shame that this list also includes the San Quentin set - really, amidst the 1,001 albums to listen to before you die, how many Johnny Cash jailhouse performances does a body need? Nonetheless, taken in isolation, this one crackles with a rare electricity. A lovely setlist, and Cash sounds like a man fully in command of everything he surveys, even when he cracks up during 'Dark as the Dungeon'. What a voice, an Old Testament voice.

Ayoooo who up listening to Sex Packets in 2022?

Not what I habitually listen to, but there's something quite appealing about the rolling, shimmying sound of Siembra. It had a tendency to swag along in the background a little, but when I tuned in properly, I was digging it. My only real criticism is that a few tracks were wrapped in the plush gauze of period TV theme music. I'd rate this higher if there was a little more bite or grit, I think - but am I not missing the point somewhat?

What a big album, what a distinct sound. It's an absolute soft rock behemoth, hugely influential. In parts it also feels - well - a little superficial. The sound is immaculate but I never feel like I can get lost in the music. The surface level is beautiful, but I'm not sure there's a whole lot underneath. Good, very good in places, with moments of genius. Yet I don't feel massively compelled to give Rumours another spin anytime soon.

Pleasant, with a couple of standouts - 'Mandolin Wind', 'Maggie May', ah go on, add 'I'm Losing You' into the mix too - but little to grab the listener by the throat. Amiable, comfortable and definitely worth another spin on a slow, sunny afternoon - but that's as far as I'll go. Stewart is a distinctive and characterful vocalist for sure, but nowhere near my favourite.

Hell yes. Toes that very fine line between shambolic and inspired, a sleazy, poppy, dirty little diamond that draws equally on punk and glam heritage. 'Mental Beat' is a brilliant track. You know why? Because it's basically 'Next Big Thing' by the Dictators, which also ruled. They wrote 'Lick Summer Love' themselves though, which also smokes. Great record!

Pretty much one of my favourite listening experiences ever. I've owned the album for about twenty years and it simply never gets dull. Title track is, of course, a scorcher but there's fuck all filler on this platter. A locomotive, an absolute juggernaut of an album.

As a rule I dislike the whole trip-hop deal, but honestly? I didn't mind this. Perhaps it's the fact that it leans into jazz somewhat, perhaps it's the surprising variety on display - and certainly, production-wise, it sounds great. Superior mood music, then, but don't necessarily use my rating as any kind of barometer; I still don't like trip-hop.

An odd duck, this. The production is so bright and sugary that my teeth itch. The singing can, at times, harrow. The lowlights - tepid instrumental 'Arrival', 'Dum Dum Diddle' and the terrible 'Happy Hawaii' are some of the worst things I've ever heard. People have wound up at the Hague for less. Yet when they hit their marks - and it tends to be on the biggies like 'Money Money Money', 'Dancing Queen' and the peculiarly Hibernian 'Fernando', they really are excellent songsmiths. The saccharine gives way to the dreamy, and they soar. A pity that those moments are so thinly rationed.

I don't get this. A couple of slightly tickly songs - 'Shadowboxer', 'Criminal' - cant compensate for what is a mostly dull excursion. I don't like Apple's voice very much, the songs are overly (as in, unnecessarily) long, and an underheated production job certainly doesn't help. This review is boring I realise, but I don't think I'm doing the album any disservice as a consequence.

Simply, the greatest funk album ever conjured into existence. Pure magic! It feels like a loose kind of concept runs through the songs, an elemental Afro-futurism perhaps. 'Mothership Connection' is funny, political, off-the-wall, surprising - but above all else, it's scintillating funk music. 'Night of the Thumpasorus People' contains the single most audacious groove committed to tape.

This app has been dogged at trying to make the Pogues a thing. For me, they are the archetypal 'best of' band - and I'm not ashamed to say that in the real world, that's the only album of theirs I physically own. Here, I don't think I've heard anything to change my mind. A couple of bangers, a fair bit of filler and a conservatism born from the limitations of both form and ability. It's not bad, if you like this kind of overheated blarney, but it's not great either.

A sprawling, fantastical compendium of piano-driven soft rock that - somehow - manages to hit the mark, most of the time. Side one, which kicks off with 'Funeral for a Friend' and wraps with the helium-powered oddity 'Bennie and the Jets', is fantastic. Elsewhere, all the big songs - the title track, 'Saturday Night' - deserve their laurels. Brilliant pop music. I wasn't familiar with the rest, so was pleased to find some gooey, chewy stuff like 'I've Seen that Movie Too', 'Social Disease', 'The Ballad of Danny Bailey' and 'All the Girls Love Alice'; even the rather eccentric 'Grey Seal' possesses a kicky charm. Taupin's lyrics are ambitious throughout, but inevitably on a double album there's a bit of variance in quality. Some of the more pedestrian material has the whiff of clunky pub back room sing-alongs, but even this is elevated by John's charismatic performances. Yeah, really good.

I listened to the original 38 minute version of the album. I was expecting some fey flower power bullshit from Surrealistic Pillow, and...that's pretty much what I got. I think there was even a lyric about getting one's mind blown. Outta sight, man! But it's not without its appeal. SP's clumsy groping towards some kind of heavy trip mystic profundity often catapults the music into 'Nuggets' territory, which isn't a bad thing. And nestled inbetween big beasts 'Somebody To Love' (a real ripsnorter!) and 'White Rabbit' (peculiar and cool) is the odd gem such as 'Embryonic Journey', which sounds like a serviceable attempt at Davey Graham. Fun for what it is, but undoubtedly occupying 'relic of its age' status.

This sounds like, by turns, Uriah Heep, Be Bop Deluxe and Wishbone Ash. But also, like Queen; the stacked, hysterical vocals and archness in Mercury's delivery belong to no-one else. Embryonic, quite proggy, but interesting and listenable for all that. 'March of the Black Queen' rocks pretty hard. Oh, and 'Seven Seas of Rhye' is one of my all-time favourite Queen songs, so there's that, too.

Mostly pretty boring, lots of mid-tempo slurry, for half of the album Lennon's voice sounds like dogshit, and 'Imagine' (the song) should've seen everyone involved in its creation on trial at the Hague.

What a feast for the ears. This runs the gamut from heavy psych through to Philly soul, and pulls it off - mostly. Points need to be awarded on the basis of sheer, widescreen ambition. Side one of the album almost feels avant garde in places, with the brief one-minute tracks such as 'Flamingo' coming over like cuts from the Residents' Commercial Album. Elsewhere, 'Zen Archer' has a coda that is close to beautiful. 'Is It My Name?' sounds like a long-lost Tubes track. Closer 'Just One Victory' also demonstrates that Rundgren can play it straight-ish, boasting backing vocals that trip and dance around the music. Very few individuals have quite as much vision as Rundgren does; even fewer have the moxy and the chops to execute.

Didn't get much juice out of this lemon

It's tough trying to be objective when you've owned, and loved, an album for over twenty years. I gave Black Sabbath another spin and it took me back to my teens, and reminded me of the excitement of being young and discovering music for oneself. Couple that with the fact that, despite chat about Blue Cheer, Cream and Vanilla Fudge, that I firmly believe Sabbath invent metal on this album (and have made the case elsewhere online) and I know I won't be giving this less than five stars. Still, strip away all else, and any platter containing 'The Wizard', 'Black Sabbath' (the seed of doom metal) and 'NIB' (all-time great riff-a-thon) is gonna generate heat.

Great! I listened to the 1995 expanded edition. The familiar numbers like 'Substitute', 'I Can't Explain' and the Bo Diddley beat of 'Magic Bus' ruled, but I was equally taken by their interpretations of tracks written by Mose Allison and Allen Toussaint. Really muscular takes of those songs. Overall it's a beefy, brawling kinda sound, but not without finesse, especially where the longer tracks are concerned. Sometimes live records can sound a little tepid, or they show up the limitations of the artist(s) in question. Not this one.

I can be brief - I bought this album on the basis of what others told me. This subsequently served to reinforce the notion that I should trust my own instincts. A yawn-a-thon, lingering in the speakers like a drab, wet Sunday afternoon.

A couple of minor quibbles; sometimes the volume of ideas overwhelms the songcraft, but only occasionally. Secondly, Prince has a tendency towards a kind of sweaty, cramped version of funk that can feel claustrophobic and a little unsatisfying. However, Purple Rain is a kaleidoscope of talent. When everything comes together 'just so', the results are mighty. I would rate 'When Doves Cry' the crowning success - the audacity to create a funk song with no bass! - but there's almost too much to enjoy here. I had the privilege of seeing Prince live on the final night of his London O2 residency. Outstanding, and astounding.

What a strange, curious and immensely enjoyable experience this turned out to be. Roxy Music treads a line between wry and weird that very few manage successfully - Sparks, perhaps? But more than that, Roxy Music is the questing sound of a bunch of outsiders pulling apart and examining tropes of rock and roll in real time. And, of course, the hand of Bryan Ferry means that there are moments of warped romanticism to be found, too. Heady stuff.

The source material here is a bit variable in quality, but no matter - Nina Simone is such a compelling presence that she can spin gold from yarn. As an aside, has there been a more arresting vocalist who worked within the popular genres? Perhaps Billie Holiday, maybe Scott Walker, and there's a case to be made for early Elvis. Simone is top of the tree. Highlights here are 'Lilac Wine' and the brutal, stark 'Four Women'.

The production of this album is lovely, feeling like a warm hug. And it's certainly got some memorable tracks - the incredible blue-eyed soul of 'Crazy Love', the choogling 'Glad Tidings' and of course the jazzy, yearning title track (one of the first pieces I ever learned to play on piano). It's hardly an original observation to make, but Morrison has a helluva voice. All the material fits around it very snugly. At times, perhaps, it's too 'just so' and oozes into the background, but overall Moondance is a very pleasant, folksy, soulful listening experience.

It almost feels unfair that I should be rating this album, because I honestly don't get Radiohead. Kid A was the big one kicking about when I was at university, and so I know it almost through osmosis. Didn't get the appeal then, don't get the appeal now. I fundamentally think I'm hardwired to dislike this band.

The Fall go pop. It's alright.

One man, a guitar and a harmonica - yet despite this austere palette, it's never dull. This album crackles with ideas and is a superb prequel as to what will come later. It's not all mature, but some of the material here - 'Blowin' in the Wind', 'Don't Think Twice...' and especially 'A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall' - outstrips anything ninety-eight percent of songwriters will ever achieve.

Fun but a little undemanding. Ultimately didn't hold my attention for the duration, but what does these days? Liked the 'Duke of Earl' sample. Uh, haven't got a huge amount more to say. It's fine - sawed-off shotgun, hand on the pump, etc. These guys sound sincere, at least

An interesting listening experience, but one I'm not in a rush to repeat. That said, stuff like 'Go Go Pop' - featuring Trouble Funk - adds some nice shading to the proceedings. The guitar break in 'Who You Funkin' With?' is superb. I still get a kick out of the afrofuturist 'Planet Rock' too, which grafts the icy synths of Kraftwerk onto a hip-hop track to good effect.

Cute contrivance to have the songs linked as if part of a radio show, especially the jingles betwixt and between. But what of the songs? They're pretty good - 'Armenia City in the Sky' is a psych oddball, and 'Rael 1 and 2' leaves me scratching my head. But 'Sunrise' is delicate, and there's one cast-iron banger here in the form of 'I Can See For Miles', an all-time great Who song.

My first real exposure to Harris, and not one I wish to repeat. She has a voice that is sweet and pure - and yet to my ears, rather grating. There's a decent variety of material here, all blandly competent in terms of execution. Nobody involved in this record is doing anything outside of themselves - it's played too safe by half.

I found this to be a lot of fun! Atop a bedrock of itchy, manic anti-funk we have a load of ideas and textures that all come together nicely. 'Found A Job' is a delight. This album also happens to contain one of my favourite ever covers - I don't think there's a better version of 'Take Me to the River' out there.

The guitar in 'Siberian Khatru' is sick as fuck

As a dyed-in-the-wool heavy metal maniac I'm not giving this any less than five well-deserved stars. This album absolutely smokes. Lots of bands tried to sound like Slayer. Few bands actually sound like Slayer. 'Angel of Death' and 'Raining Blood' are all-timers in the metal pantheon.

This starts out like 'Kate Bush does Oingo Boingo', spotlights some nice folky instrumentation (but not before an ill-advised Mockney accent) and moves into a synth cut featuring the Windows 95 error sound. A mess, but an intriguing one, where uilliean pipes butt up against some quasi-Mick Karn fretless bass. One has to admire the questing artistry and willingness to experiment with such a broad sonic palette, even if the results can be a tad obtuse.

One of the greatest hard rock albums ever, but some of what commends it also serve as the seeds of creative decline for AC/DC. The ponderous, crawling tempos sound powerful and muscular here, but drag on later releases. Pared-back riffs no doubt sound great in stadia but too much minimalism becomes boring. Brian Johnson sounds insane, like a man struggling to breathe, but doesn't really vary this attack down the line. It's brilliant, my favourite AC/DC album, absolutely stacked with hooky riffs and memorable songs. The bell rolling at the start of 'Hell's Bells' raises goosebumps even today. Even the sleazy bits sound classy. Great stuff, but it would be the blueprint for lesser releases down the line.

I know this was a landmark album - and a bit like MTV's Unplugged series, would prove influential - but I don't really dig it. I've always been a little lukewarm on Metallica despite being a metal fan. A big part of that is James Hetfield's voice - it's the archetype of what a certain type of person thinks is 'badass'. In fact, beyond the first few albums, I've come to regard Metallica as a bit 'try-hard'. And there is no more try-hard album than S&M, which takes some pretty lean songs and makes them sound cluttered, soupy or downright comical. There's a bit of 'Hero of the Day' that sounds like Alfred Hitchcock going up to collect his honorary Oscar. Metal can be faintly ridiculous, which is part of the appeal. S&M takes itself far too seriously, and ends up seeming even more risible as a consequence. Not for me.

Very much of its time, but charming for all that. Really thought the chirpy Cockney hokum on the big single would bug me more than it did. Decent variety of styles on display here too. Yeah, I can dig it.

It's pretty de rigueur to dump on U2 for their tiresome and self-aggrandising frontman, so I thought I'd dump on them on the basis of their tepid, insipid music. Even the familiarity of the two openers doesn't offer any more than a faint buzz, more akin to 'ah, I know this' rather than 'ah, a nice warm shot of nostalgia'. On Joshua Tree, U2 have a sound and stick with it, Edge's guitar spinning and jangling away atop relatively competent stadium rock. It's an identity, sure. However, if I had to describe the sound as anything, it would be 'vaporous'. Given the absolute sincerity of the lyrics, it's a minor blessing that this stuff evaporates into the aether soon after listening.

Ah, another one I already own! I recall being impressed with this whilst a university student. Gave it another spin on the stereo in service of this app and it's...fine. I've moved to a position where I feel Cave in general is a touch overrated, and this album doesn't quite shift the dial in any appreciable way.

I swear that I had been listening to this for an hour, but it turns out I was barely halfway through. There are some cool guitar tones and one or two catchy numbers, but overall White Blood Cells is a chore. Shit lyrics, draggy tempos, cartoon character voice - it's all here, folks. Wild to recall the White Stripes were once the future of rock. Anyway, right before this I listened to that Dennis Brown song, you know the one, it goes "Some like it hot / Some like it co-o-old" and that's ten times better than anything on White Blood Cells. Flashbacks to sitting on the bed of a university friend as he repeatedly tried to hack his way through the riff to 'I Think I Smell a Rat' and wanting to die.

My initial impression when listening to the opening track is that Blackstar sounds a bit like Marc and the Mambas. That notion doesn't really hold. What it does sound like is the effort of an elder statesman keeping tabs on the times whilst trying to retain a sense of individuality - but you could very well imagine, say, someone like Bryan Ferry putting out almost the exact same album. None of which is to say it's bad, although personally I think the electronic percussion (where used) sounds tinny. Blackstar is fine, bold in places and occasionally you get a glimpse of Bowie's facility to do something interesting with a melody. However, I think the circumstances under which Blackstar was recorded and released have perhaps led to a slightly over-generous assessment of the album's merits.

Incredible how this was such a big album back in the day. Take the worst aspects of Oasis, mash with the uninteresting bits of World of Twist, lard it all with draggy tempos and voila, you have Urban Hymns. Imagine, if you will, a damp late autumn day in the UK. Outside the sky is slate grey, and greasy rivulets of rainwater slide down the windowpane. In front of you is a half-burned, half-pink sausage swimming in beans and soggy mushrooms. This is a tolerable life you have found for yourself. Urban Hymns by the Verve is playing on the stereo.

Oh ho ho, what's all this then? Genuinely, this sounds like a reasonably advanced AI that doesn't quite 'get' how popular music appeals to humans, but has nonetheless been fed a bunch of Beach Boys songs and told to get on with it. Some really abrupt handbrake turns in the music, which are most unpleasant; and those goofy harmonies are so sweet my teeth itch. Just a completely foul vibe - yet strangely compelling for all that.

Absolutely no way I can be objective about this as the songs filled my childhood. Not that I was around then! Rather, my dad filled our lounge and front room with the sounds of Queen, Alice Cooper, the Rolling Stones, Frank Zappa - and David Bowie. So, each and every song on this album waltzes with fuzzy, fond memories of childhood. Consequently, Hunky Dory is more than simply music; it's the soundtrack to my formative years, my own movie score if you will. I had a very happy childhood. I have grown to appreciate, in different ways, almost everything my parents played (sorry dad - I draw the line at Peter Skellern) and as such I feel this in the very marrow of my bones. Five stars.

Sugary pop meets some punky spikiness. The arrangements seem a little sparse even for the time - it's neither a big nor rounded sound - but the sweet vocals work well atop the wiry guitar work. 'We Got the Beat' rules.

Mostly pleasant, the chiming Rickenbacker compensating for the dustiness that comes with some a dated artefact as Younger Than Yesterday. But halfway through something odd occurs - Everybody's Been Burned sounds startlingly modern, Thoughts and Words could be one of the tributaries to 1980s jangle-pop and Mind Gardens is only two steps away from the twisted, psychedelic modal folk of 'wyrd Albion'. None of this quite elevates it, but Younger Than Yesterday is a welcome, listenable time machine to days of future passed.

Love this album - grimy, sleazy and above all, the harbinger of a bunch of stuff to come that I love. Unqualified love. 'Jet Boy' whips ass.

Bleh. What a yomp that was. Another one of those 2000s albums that goes on forever and a day. That would be semi-okay if the material was decent, but it's not. In fact, this might be one of the most generic album I've heard yet. A couple of songs feature some quirky sounds, sometimes the rapping caught my attention for a nanosecond, and one track sounds like a slowed-down Steely Dan number. Aside from that, any impression Soul Machine left evaporated almost the moment it touched my cerebral cortex. Over an hour of fuck-all, sung in a voice that is grating as it is unwavering.

Led Zep were a band who could amaze, confound and frustrate in equal measure. They were plaigiarists, not once but many times over, as the internet age has shown. LZIV stands proud of all this as their most fully realised collection of songs. We get the gamut - the Tolkien stuff, tight-trousered priapism, blues, proto-metal and folk. It sounds great, John Bonham is less plays the drums than attempts to knock seven shades out of them, and Robert Plant sounds so slinky and committed that you forget he's singing utter nonsense half the time. This is the big one, fellas.

A bit of a crawl at times - though it does point the way towards greater albums such as Love and Theft. There are definitely some cool tracks, like the brooding 'Love Sick' and the excellent 'Cold Irons Bound', but there are some bummers here too. Did 'Highlands' need to be sixteen and a half minutes long? It could've coped if the lyrics were more compelling. In fact, for a Dylan album there's a surprising number of lyric sheets that veer towards the prosaic, at least by his standards. An interesting listen, even if it can be a little taking.

I am no tango fan, so had no idea it could sound this progressive. I am, however, a fan of Gary Burton, and could listen to his wonderfully expressive vibes playing all day. Didn't have a scooby that Burton turned his hand to tango. These compositions, which I'm guessing are by Astor Piazzolla, bring the whole 'newgrass' movement to mind, whereby bluegrass was cut with jazz and rock to make an exciting, virtuosic variant of a traditional genre. Stimulating stuff, then, although the first half of 'Vibraphonissimo' sounds like the section before the guitar solo in Frank Zappa's 'Zomby Woof' - and I'll never not find the title 'Operation Tango' to be funny.

Honestly, I realise the historic significance behind this album, but bugger me it's a rough old ride - and that's coming from a metal fan. Borderline incompetent and inadvertently funny. Still, it has heart and I've a soft spot for bands that rise beyond their own limitations. I think 'Black Metal' does this - just about.

The loveliness of some of the sounds on this album (especially those that dip into the grab-bag of lush 1970s soul) can't quite balance out the rather characterless rapping. Perhaps Common is brilliant, but every time I properly tune in I'm left a smidge underwhelmed.

About fifteen years ago, a friend and I were walking home, quite drunk, after a night of youthful revels. Our conversation that evening was about The Perfect Album, and whether it existed. Our conclusion was that the closest thing in existence was the debut Boston album. As a classic rock album, it ticks every box - 'More Than a Feeling', 'Smokin'', 'Rock And Roll Band', 'Something About You' - all masterpieces of the genre. On top of that you've got the distinctive, skyscraper vocals of the late Brad Delp and the equally identifiable guitar tone of mastermind Tom Scholz. That's where the real mustard is - the appeal of this album is universal enough to sell oodles, but has so much fun and interesting noise that only Boston could conjure up. They flamed out pretty quickly, but their first album? A stone cold masterpiece.

I own this album already, I think it's the bee's knees. You can hear this as the transition from the looser, Stonesier rock of formative Aerosmith to a harder, sleazier sound. There's an unmistakable swagger to some of these tracks - 'Sick As a Dog', 'Back in the Saddle' and 'Nobody's Fault' standout here. Meanwhile, 'Rats in the Cellar' is a hard-driving rocker and 'Home Tonight' points towards a mastery of power-balladry to come. Neat neat neat.

Not much to say, aside from the fact that I like wobbly, nervy synth pop from this period very much. I only knew 'Temptation' prior to giving this a listen, fool that I am. There's a strain of peculiarly English glumness that runs through this otherwise twinkly offering that I find most appealing. Aside from the music, that's an all-timer of an album cover. Answering phones! Making deals! Getting paid! Truly, the most Thatcherite of new wave sleeve art imaginable, and I love it.

A wonderful surprise. I knew a couple of the tracks but the overall package is sensational - a spitting, snarling record dripping with attitude and menace. It all sounds of a piece, the spiky instrumentation and sweaty post-punk compositions matching the lyric sheet. And what lyrics! Dipping into street vernacular, the whole thing sounds so desperate and sleazy that you imagine the record leaving a stain on your stereo. A triumph. Gonna buy a copy tomorrow.

When I was at university I met a girl towards whom I felt an instant attraction. Funny, cool, beautiful and whip-smart, perhaps her only ostensible failing was that she seemed to take a shine to me. That, and she loved Manu Chao. Imagine, my friends, how exhilarated I felt to have managed to make it to her bedroom. Imagine how deflating it was to learn that she couldn't wait to turn me onto 'Clandestino'. Listening again to this brings back pungent memories of nodding along, muttering crap like "yeah, this is some dope shit" and feeling like I was slowly going insane through a combination of young lust, desperation and in-the-moment loathing of Manu Chao. Anyway, I mellowed and she went on to work for the Conservative Party. I don't hate 'Clandestino' as much as I did back then, but it still sucks. I think 'Bongo Bong' was used in an old Fifa game.

You snowflakes! Here's a news flash - AIN'T NOBODY GUNNA TELL ME HOW TO LI-I-IVE!!

Baby food music. As wet as it gets.

Goodness me, this was different sauce back in the day. I can smell the felt tip pen ink now just listening to it; anyone else have a bunch of kids at their school with the NIN logo doodled next to that of Korn, Slipknot etc on their back packs? Pretty damn good even today. Might bust out the black nail polish a bit later.

The second in a trifecta of incredible Alice Cooper albums (topped and tailed by 'Killer' and 'Billion Dollar Babies'), 'School's Out' is testament to what a strange, idiosyncratic band they were. Before Coop went off on his own wobbly but varied solo career, he and his compares made some of the most interesting music of the era. It doesn't quite fit into any box - too complex and twisty for straight-up garage rock, too dirty to be prog and far too dark to fit in with glam. It's not heavy metal, either, despite its aggression. So what is it? Alice Cooper music, I guess. All the musical performances are great but the standout for me is bassist Dennis Dunaway, who anchors everything with his looping, rubbery, kinetic playing. The double-stop riffing he does on 'Gutter Cats vs The Jets' is insane, and insanely good. I feel like every time I spin 'School's Out' I find something else to geek out about. Very cool!

Fine, okay, whatever. It's pretty boring, no? The singer sounds like a slightly less sad Michael Head. The best track is the slightly kooky lounge-indie track with Richard Hawley. Perhaps Elbow should ask Hawley to join full time as he makes their tunes better. Otherwise, this sounds like music for people who don't particularly care about music all that much.

Supa Dupa Fly comes fast out of the traps, but it doesn't take long before this old nag has run out of puff and is ready for the glue factory. That Busta Rhymes is an early highlight should be a warning, as his name is not on the top of the album. Individual tracks, plucked here and there, might prove fun. I'm a big advocate of albums but this one strengthens the case for shuffle play. So whilst 'Rain' is great, by the time I'm about 'Don't Be Comin' (In My Face)' I'm crying out for variety. And then we do get something different, I guess - 'Izzy Izzy Ahh', one of the worst things I've heard in the last fortnight. And I've been compelled to review Kid Rock in that time. An hour of this...blimey.

Fun, playful electro that contains just about enough grit and scuzz to keep things interesting. Almost as if Kraftwerk and Daft Punk had a delinquent child. I have to say, given the year this came out, the disco-pop of D.A.N.C.E. feels like a harbinger of a type of music that would soon become quite modish again. Probably a little too samey to hold me rapt for an entire 48 mins, but I liked this, blats of static 'n' all

I feel a little out of my depth with this one. As with jazz, I don't think I've got the right vocabulary or understanding of this type of music to say much beyond whether I like it or not. It's an impressive undertaking, a kind of collage of sound fixed to a hip-hop frame. It must've taken a long time to make this sound so cohesive and disciplined. But did I enjoy it? At times. Did it challenge me? At times. How to score such endeavour?

If anyone asks me my favourite Steely Dan album, depending on the day and the direction the wind blows I might say Katy Lied, Gaucho or even Can't Buy a Thrill. But I always follow it up with "...though really, it should be Aja." Why? Because it's immaculate. And perhaps that's why it's not quite top of the tree for me. It's like gorging on chocolate, and washing it all down with yet more chocolate. There comes a point where you a bit of grit or nastiness is welcome. However, for all that, and for all the carping that the Dan sacrifice emotional truths on the altar of technical ecstasy, it's wonderful. Oblique lyrics about disaffected demimonde America, compositions that successfully combine pazz 'n' jop, crystalline production, some outstanding individual musical performances - they're all here. Gimme more chocolate...

In the plus column: raw, vital, wild, Nick Cave sounds positively demented, a good reminder of the gonzo potential of rock 'n' roll. Negatives: eh, you can't really dance to it, can you? And isn't it just that little bit too wilfully ugly? Good clean fun, all told. I'm glad there's space for this kind of unpasteurised music to exist.

Feels like the zanier end of power pop crossed with the tamer edge of alt rock - Jellyfish meets Bush, perhaps? It's quirky in its own way, idiosyncratic for sure, but a little studied. Perfectly listenable, no more, no less.

Forgot that 'Voodoo People' was on this album, and the moment I heard it I was instantly taken back to a classic old skool YouTube video featuring the Pendulum remix. If 'see you tonight geez' and 'oh-five V6 Clio Twin Turbo' ring any bells, you know what I'm referring to. That video seems today to be a relic of an era when a sizeable proportion of UK youth culture could be summed up as "'avin' it large", and there's the same frantic, sweaty urgency around having a phreaky good time on MFTGJ. The Prodigy always were the most rock oriented of the dance acts, which helped me to enjoy it. I listened to MFTJG whilst driving, and I recommend you do too. This is the perfect, pulsing, insistent beat for a spot of dromoscopy. Luvverly!

Wow, despite the fact that this tore through my university like norovirus on a cruise ship, I forgot just how absolutely fucking boring this trope is. The diametric opposite of what I consider to be good music.

Not only is this the greatest soundtrack - ever - for a film, it also works by critiquing the film itself through its lyrical themes. How often do you encounter something quite so meta that's also a funky, soulful and positive commentary on the art its ostensibly meant to complement? A masterpiece.

Loved the voice, and the music certainly filled the room with atmospheric sounds that I'm not entirely accustomed to. I nonetheless found it a bit of a trudge from time to time. Chalk it up to ignorant listener as opposed to bad musician - I think a little longer with Baaba Maal and I'd begin to enjoy it more. But this app demands swiftness, and so on we plunge...

Interesting one, this. Good, weighty riffs that feel adjacent to nu-metal, but agree with the observation that the sound cleaves closer to an act like Helmet. I really appreciate the attempt to meld sounds from indigenous cultures with heavy metal. It can become a little obtuse, as on 'Canyon Jam' (though I did appreciate its atmosphere) but most of the time it put me in mind of Dr John's debut, which featured all manner of voodoo-inspired whoops and whistles. Who made the better syncretic shamanic album? Dr John, for sure. Can you headbang to 'Gris Gris'? A tough ask. Can you blast the dandruff to Roots? Absolutely

This would be a good, if not a little clattery, rock record were it not for Perry Farrell, quite one of the more irritating presences in popular entertainment. So - four stars for the music, minus one due to the Farrell Factor.

Insane how unfairly maligned Yes are in some quarters. Sure they can, and do, indulge in lengthy virtuoso workouts but it's always with a focus and discipline. It's also crazy just how much of this album I know without owning it. There are some really, really strong melodies at play here, and the kinds of hooks that wouldn't be out of place on a more straightforward pop record. Time for Yes to enjoy critical reappraisal. As for Fragile, what a triumph.

This is it? After all the encomiums and hype I've heard about Dinosaur Jr, I was greatly looking forward to this particular album. What a pity. Some wild guitar sounds aside, what exactly is so hip about this crap? Badly sung garage rock with noise and college FM pretensions, but nary a hint of craft or guile to be found. I don't doubt that YLAOM - and Dinosaur Jr - are an influential proposition. Sure, why not. I probably don't like the crap they've influenced either.

Superb

I can't help but applaud the scope and vision Stevens demonstrates on Illinois; it bespeaks of a winning restlessness. The big problem here is that Illinois could do with some pruning. Over the course of seventy-something minutes I could be charmed, but also bored. I think of other concept albums I like, and how they are often unfairly maligned as sprawling or lacking in discipline. Often that's not the case - but the charges stick here, to a degree. I wish the whole 'one album per state' bobbins wasn't a joke - would've loved to have heard Stevens taking on Kansas.

America's favourite alt country band (maybe!) join forces with the UK's favourite singing socialist (possibly!) to record a bunch of Woody Guthrie songs. Well, blow me down, it works an absolute treat! They could've approached Guthrie with hushed reverence, but instead there's a rainbow of moods here, from pensive through to knockabout. The musical soundscape is pretty lovely too, reminiscent of early 1970s Dylan. My only gripe is that Jeff Tweedy still fails to move me as a vocalist, but there's enough Bragg (and a slither of Natalie Merchant) to offset this. A thoroughly charming album.

Over an hour in length on this offering. Some of it is near enough competent. When BDB tries to sound like Dr Strangely Strange this is decent. When he sounds like Toploader, not so much. What a peculiar album.

This whips. Almost twelve minutes of 'Papa Was a Rolling Stone' is badass, and there's a great version of one of Ewan Maccoll's loveliest tunes. I love it when O.G. soul and blues guys got funky - Lee Dorsey, Johnny 'Guitar' Watson, even 'the Parliaments' took a turn. More, more, more!

What a mess. But before I dig into how horribly misogynistic this is, I want to also mention just how cheap the entire package sounds. It's absolute dogshit! Anyway, 'Stan' is overrated, most of the beats are boring and although I chuckled a couple of times, there were many more times where I had negative reactions that verged on the physical. What was his beef with Christopher Reeve anyway?

Not entirely convinced by the generic, albeit hard-hitting, alt rock sound. Personally I think British bands tended to wear the alt rock t-shirt a little awkwardly, for the most part. However, although the music may be a little beige, the vocal performance compensates. Skin is a compelling and charismatic frontwoman, and she is good enough to drag the music to a higher level. Decent, no more, no less.

Here's the deal - this album get five stars on the basis of Shangri-La alone. It is one of my favourite songs, ever. As a songwriting commentator on a specific type of small, suburban British life I don't think Ray Davies has a peer. Take Shangri-La - is it a celebration of those creature comforts that welcome us after our day's toil? Is it a critique of this lifestyle? Or is it, as I suspect, both? It walks the line beautifully in terms of both tone and execution, from its gentle fingerpicked intro to the brass-driven midsection. There's more juice in this one track than some artists manage over the course of a whole album. And then there's Victoria, and the breezy pastoral of Drivin'...and everything else. So, so good.

I'm happy that this kind of astringent, smash-mouth music exists in the world. Which isn't to say I like it much - whilst I can admire the animating spirit and willingness to play with song structure, I can't say Yank Crime ever reached me at an emotional level. That said, 'Luau' is a might piece of music, and I like a bit of spit and agitation now and then. In no hurry to listen again, however.

This isn't going to get a high rating - there simply isn't enough memorable music on Live Through This for it to scrape the firmament. What saves this from being too beige is Courtney Love. She's a limited singer, but an excellent frontwoman - she can be vampish, disaffected or anguished as the song demands. And that, when coupled with some crunchy guitars, was hardly likely to fail, right?

DUNNNHH! DA-DUNNNHH!! I don't own a copy of Who's Next but I know three-quarters of the tracks. It's one of the classic rock big beasts, and it's not hard to see why. This represents what is probably The Who's most focused collection of songs - no loopy concepts or attempts to replicate a commercial radio station here. It's a damn fine collection too, full of light and shadow, brooding and catharsis. As an outfit nobody quite sounds like The Who - Moon's questing, hyperactive drumming meshing with the whirling, kinetic bass playing courtesy of the Ox and Townshend's slashing, wiry guitar. Above it all Daltrey plays the lost boy or the rock god as the song demands. There's nary a step wrong here. No dated production techniques, no misguided attempts at genre tunes, no awkward integration of modish instrumentation. Just high quality, thoughtful and - at times - exhilarating rock.

No doubt this app is responsible for more than a few Maggots among us. Not me though.

Already own this album in physical format, which indicates it once held enough appeal for me to shell out some bunce. It's pretty great, no? A lovely selection of songs, some of the best cuts from NIN, Depeche Mode, Simon and Garfunkel, Ewan MacColl (his best ever?) and more. 'The Man Comes Around' (the track) remains a late career triumph. Given that it's a Rick Rubin production it was never going to be a bells 'n' whistles sound universe; sometimes I think the minimal orchestration is super-effective, other times I feel it's ever so slightly lacking. Do we need another 'Danny Boy'? Still, Cash's voice is akin to an old jumper - a bit ragged but warm and familiar.

I love Randy Newman, probably one of the sharpest, cynical, funny songwriters in American popular music. That he can combine drollery with poignancy, often in the same song, is impressive; married to lovely, jazzy piano arrangements, it's stellar. Sure, he's got a funny voice. It fits the music. Would a song about the slave trade like 'Sail Away' fly today? It's probably too glib to suit today's climate, despite its brilliance. A great collection of characterful songs by one of the best to ever do it.

Late career Bowie, all quite second- or third-rate stuff. The lyrics are crap and the Thin Grey Duke is blowing on the uptempo numbers. Never been a big fan of Earl Slick's guitar scrawl neither. Ho hum. It's just interesting and arty enough to scrap and grapple its way to three stars.

Well at least we know where Cinderella got the blueprint for 'Night Songs' from. This is like eating a greasy old burger from a van outside a sports event - it's bad for you, bits of it even look poorly executed but it's got enough in terms of its elements to keep you masticating away merrily. A fair bit of 'el rocko generico' here, but when the Lep boys hit the mark - 'Photograph', 'Rock of Ages', 'Die Hard the Hunter' - it's pretty damn fun. The rather plasticky production and sappy harmony vocals date this, but also grant the listener the gift of instant time travel. You can almost smell the Aquanet. Mildly addictive, despite its excesses.

The best. By which I mean, I consider SF Sorrow the pinnacle of British psychedelia and comfortably in my top ten albums of all time. Sure, parts of it are in thrall to the Beatles, but the range, invention, ambition and imagination on display mitigates against the odd bit of borrowing. Highlights? The entire thing. It operates as an undivided whole. Sadness, madness, poignancy, absurdity - it's all here.

Relatively enjoyable - I'm a particular fan of the elliptical, paranoid lyrics and creepy atmosphere. As with many Wu Tang affiliated projects, it has the dusty, slightly uncanny feel of old found footage. What elevates this from three to four stars is '4th Chamber', one of my favourite rap tracks full stop. The sample from 'Shogun Assassin' that kicks it off is supreme, and it just gets better from there on in. Was 'Why is the sky blue?' the Wu equivalent to 'Fuckin' magnets, how do they work?'

Quite lovely. A nice blend of soft psychedelia, baroque pop and some of the rhythms one associates with Brazil. A fairly lengthy listen but a gentle journey, and one I fully enjoyed throughout.

This is dream pop, I guess? It's fine as things go. I found the wonkiness of 'Norway' appealing, but much of the rest falls into that bracket of music that seems like critical catnip but which I am yet to be utterly charmed by. There's a soporific quality to much of the sound, indistinct and pillowy, buoyed by coos and sighs that lull and beguile. The problem is that it all comes out as a big powder-puff yawn, and if you're not mentally drifting away in a Limehouse opium den then it doesn't quite resonate. Still, you can hear the Big Star influences and all those looping, chiming noises are pleasant. It don't get the ol' krovvy pumping though, yeah?

To paraphrase the late, great Brian Clough, "it may not be the best album of all time, but it's in the top one".

Starts off with a co-write by Gary Glitter and goes downhill from there. An absolutely turgid exercise, leaching off 1970s glam and 1960s mod rock but draining away the fun of the former and obliterating the skip and bounce of the latter. Instead, what we're left with is an oafish, charmless, pretentious period piece that is utterly emblematic of 'Cool Britannia' - ie painfully embarrassing.

Dub bass, world music and vocals from your uncle who thinks Area 51 is a 'psyop'. This is pretty grim stuff all told, absolutely reeks of patchouli and cider in two-litre plastic bottles. Does anyone truly enjoy this bobbins?

Can't quite recall when my expectations before going in have been so comprehensively met. Before going in I thought it'll be tasteful, well executed country-tinged soft rock...and that's exactly what's here. A less generous appraisal is that this is a wetter Pacific Ocean Blue, a notch up from Bread or a notch down from Gordon Lightfoot. What I'm trying to say is it's fine. A little po-faced and worthy, but good laidback Americana for all that.

This is what all the hype was about ten years ago?! A bunch of my pals were going cock-a-hoop over this wank? What a mushy, churchy load of old pony.

An eeeeever so slightly overrated Kate Bush, in terms of critical acclaim, but what does that mean in particular? Still better than ninety percent of what's out there. I prefer the warmer production of Bush's earlier work; and I think I respect the artsier, more avant garde Sensual World. Some fans may consider this the best of all possible worlds. I think it's pretty dam fine.