We listened to it. It was music.

Rats could have been hotter.

The album that inspired a generation of white British musicians to sound like poor versions of this album.

I think the time it would take to learn to enjoy listening to this album would be better spent enjoying not listening to this album.

I know it shouldn't have 5 stars but when I enjoyed it that much what exactly are 5 stars for?

Much more blues forward than I'd expected which lent itself to the darker macabre spendidly.

If you like folksy Americana then you might get something out of this. Well performed , well written but merges into the genre.

Unexpected grower. The first 3 or 4 tracks are pretty uninspiring but I just seemed to tune into it over time and by the end was enamoured. Interesting to hear bits that clearly inspired other bands. A like rather than a love but a definite moment in time.

In your face JAZZ!! If you can embrance the note avalanche and tumble in the chaos it's quite and experience. Rather good.

It’s nice, but pretty much a live best of with strings. Smooths out Metallica’s rough edges making more like a soundtrack to’ Metallica the Ride’. Nothing wrong with it for me the orchestra took more than they added.

A really good album covering many styles and genres. It feels like it's sitting on the cusp between punk, prog, pop, rock and reggae. Throw in a bit of jazz influence too. Side two has the hits and the album fizzles out a bit at the end but overall a really solid entry.

I'm not the biggest reggae fan, but it's a pleasant album.

Very enjoyable. Most likely a strong grower.

Unapologetic pop rock. Sexist, dated and utterly brilliant. Of its era but a little joy.

Afrobeat, but predominently jazz. It's good and I enjoyed it, but it didn't change my life.

A bit uneven but a slicker production than their previous album. Kool Thing still the stand out track, but the whole album is a fun noise adventure.

Surprised I enjoyed this as much as I did. Mostly slow and introspective with quite a zen vibe. If you can tune in it's a ride worth taking.

A near perfect album. An dark atmosphere of terrible tales told around a camp fire. At turns viscious, funny, sad and beautiful. Definitely worth a listen.

It's ok but didn't grab me.

Hit singles lifting a solid rock album that wears its blues history on its sleeve as a badge of honour. Nostalgia and knowing wink glosses over the sexism. A step into the mainstream for a jobbing rock band.

A fruit cake full of tasty treats with quite a bit of filler. I liked the number of shorter songs but some still managed to outlive their welcome. But the standout songs are still world class. A mixed bag.

Very T Rexy. Surprised by the amount of classic blues in there. Brilliantly produced and decent span of styles.

Mournful and boring. Every song outlives its welcome.

Less than the sum of its parts. You could cherry pick the better songs but as a whole it disappoints.

A techno concept album. Worked for me.

Enjoyable to listen to but it doesn't stay with you.

Some gems, some filler. Ahead of the curve as ever and slightly odd for the Thin White Duke to predict the urban sould of the early 80's.

I like it too much to be objective.

Unashamedly bland, the clarion call of the middle class. The soundtrack to a million dinner parties. And while this is true it's better than you'd expect.

I feel I've undermarked this because it's an amazing album with a real crossover that paved the way for so much. But I can't help but feel Ray Charles is at his bets with blues. This whitebread album could easily be for Sinatra which I guess is the point. It opened doors and is very good. But you know he's got more in him.

Prog, Proggy, Prog, Prog. Rather enjoyed it.

It felt like Grunge by numbers. Predominantly filler with the occassional lift. Treading well worn ground, but with a female viewpoint. I can see how it could inspire. By the end I'd warmed to it a touch otherwise it may have been a 2 star.

Loud and rawcous, but unexpectedly eclectic and musical. Made me feel like a disaffected youth again. RAAAAAAAAGH!!!

I'm not sure if these were trailblaizers or pioneers of modern rhythm and blues, but they sound like 99% of American rock bands from 68-72. If they set the sound fair enough, but they are buried under better versions.

I kind of liked the title track but the rest left me cold. The mild electronic backing added next to nothing. Probably exciting if you were already a fan, but certainly not winning any.

Definately ambient. Some really good tracks balanced by some indifferent one. It was OK.

A perfect snapshot in time. Life, politics and race in Britain. The kitchen sink dramas. The bottled aggression. Desperate and beautiful.

Good. Solid. A bit bland. Couple of truly amazing songs and a few real self indulgent moments.

A great little album. He's happy or he's sad and he's not afraid to sing about it.

Predominately blah. Maybe you had to be there.

Moments of genius in plenty of filler. A rock band in a punk world.

That was nice.

Wasn’t that impressed at the time. Still not.

The singles carry at least one of these stars. Possibly two.

A lot more enjoyable than I’d expected. It held up really well.

Beautiful melancholy.

Not sure Tony Allen needed anyone to drum along, but still a joyous experience.

Top notch pop from the ABBA-bots. Can't say I actually enjoyed it but I did very much appreciate it, like a nicely stacked shelf of tins or a well presented window display. Well done everybody.

What a vibe. This album transports you. It picks you up and drops you into the midwest in the early 20th century, pours you a Jack Daniels, offers you a cigarette and tells you it's late night tales. An album that puts the world to rights. A few tracks could have lost a minute or ten which drops a half mark, but as we don't have half marks it gets the five.

A rounded up three and a half. It's not so much dated as frozen in amber, but the bangers still hit home and it does feel like a coherent collection of songs. A proper album.

Two cracking singles and plus Breaking The Girl and the title track save a bland melange of funk rock rap. Fop? I think I'm saying the bad Fop outnumbers the good Fop 2 to 1, but the good Fop is twice as good as the bad Fop. Middle marks.

Another I'd have given 4.5 stars, but happy to round up. Musically strong, brilliantly produced, well presented album. Lyrics seem more a mood thing, but it was a ride I'd take again.

It is good, but it didn't particularly grab me. Wore it's influences a bit too much on its sleeve. Not enough to make me want to leave and go and listen to Metallica, but it was still there.

Come on guys! I mean seriously! Some tracks are nearly interesting prog, then bland soft rock moments kick in. I don’t think there’s a single track that I find good start to finish. And some of the longer tracks are really boring. Dreamer is OK if a touch longer than needed. Not a super album.

Get's straight to the point. A brilliant and varied selection of little punk gems. Came close to full marks but I still find a couple of tracks difficult to connect with. Germ Free Adolescents is a stone cold classic.

Enjoyable accessible jazz that became ubiquitous. A positive view into a jazz future that never happened.

A lot of the tracks are not just old school but prehistoric rap. That said it still wins you over and about half the tracks are bangers.

Takes half an album to get going, but very good when it does.

A lot of nostalgia going on and fascinating to see a band on the way to where you know they're going. A few classic tracks here, but still a couple that are dragging their heels.

Don't get me wrong I am all for a jangly guitar and a crooney sing-a-long but this album is mostly boring.

I wanted to like it more than I did. It had all the right bits, but you go straight into Rambling Bob. I think I wanted a little more foreplay.

I liked most of the tracks that didn't have that built in 'tune out' thing where you keep missing them. It's like they're invisible. How do they do that?

This Joni Mitchell album has way too much Joni Mitchell in it. Less Joni please. I liked a lot of the music and was even surprised by a couple of songs, but less Joni would have made all of them better.

Really wasn't in the mood for this one. If you had no idea that if you hit a guitar it makes a noise for a bit and you had no concept of music then this may have some surprises for you. You'd have more fun picking up a guitar and hitting it at random yourself.

Was not expecting this. Smooth, ecclectic, not hanging around. A new little joy that I'll be revisiting.

No idea how such sweary, angry, mysoginistic, self aggrandising can feel so mellow and welcoming. Well done.

Neither fleet nor foxy. Fair play for the folk revival. It's pleasant enough and a bit too smug. The biggest take away is how much I enjoy the cover painting. Pieter Bruegel the Elder rocks like the Fleet Foxes can only dream.

It probably deserves three stars but it bored my pants off more often than it didn't.

LoVe hOW dAvId bYRne sInGS!

All that Nick Cave goodness, but it got a touch samey at times. Beautiful though.

A near perfect album with a creepy personal message from a murderer.

Sexy time in the 1970’s. Smoooooth.

He showed us the future. Now we live in cars.

Big bold ballsy bayou banjo blues n bluegrass. Bit boring.

Pleasant eloquent reggae without a single banger. Just mash.

They weren’t the first to do, they weren’t the best to do it, but they did it anyway. Couple of half decent singles on a mostly indifferent album.

Never has a crossover album felt so good. Thirty years later and it still hits home. An absolute joy to listen to. Life is hard and no one understands me.

Not boring. Not great. More than a Tori Amos wannabe hitting a saucepan. Occassionally suprising. Often not.

Like a weird buffet of your favourite foods stuck on your plate in odd combinations. Rock, punk, rap, funk, metal, and a bit of leftover late 70's/early 80's sneaking in now and again. I enjoyed this more than I expected to.

The tracks on this album are like a box of chocolates. I didn't like half of them.

That man can certainly write a song, even if he can't always keep your attention.

He Bossed it.

The Wellerphant man in full force with some jems here, but a couple of duds steal a star.

When you know you've gotta go, you gotta go. Quite the way to go.

Pretentious, overblown, and up its own bottom. I still rather enjoyed it.

Whether it's the last works of a legend looking back over a long life, or someone let grandad do the karaoke, this is better than it should be. Hillariously some unwelcome duets and bizarre choices of arrangement manages to shoot themselves in the foot. A potential five star album given away.

Taking Care of Business. How it took 10 albums until they found what Aretha was best at? Still the Queen of Soul.

A two star album with a four star cover. Let's split the difference.

Was heading straight for a five stars, and then they had a drum solo.

Goodbye Tim Buckley.

The album that inspired a generation of white British musicians to sound like poor versions of this album.

Occassionally brilliant, occassionally interesting, often just another 90's US rock band. If I'd discovered them at the time and no other 90's US rock bands ever existed then I'd have been a fan, but I didn't and they did. Nice try QOTSA, nice try.

I know it shouldn't have 5 stars but when I enjoyed it that much what exactly are 5 stars for?

Butter-shit.

Abattoir Blues sits on The Lyre of Orpheus like a chair, but it's a very nice chair. An albums (?) that I'll be going back to.

Aaargh! Surely this was a no brainer 5 star album. But listening to it it's so uneven. Some tracks are legendary, some borderline unlistenable, many just a bit flat. I'm disapointed Mr Hendrix.

That was an unexpected slice of Africa served up in an easy listening sandwich. More Africa and less not-Africa and it would have gotten another star.

Fork, fork, forkity fork. Guns. Fork.

So many styles. So many songs. Such a solid groove and tone. Four classic bangers. Some tracks need shaving.

Definitely under construction. The finished Missy articles are great, the rest needs work.

One stone cold classic soul song, one well know pure 60's pop hit. Throw in some baladeering, some straight rock and a spattering of everything inbetween and you get a band who don't sound like themselves. There doesn't seem to be a Young Rascals sound, and I for one am prepared to hold that against them.

We listened to it. It was music.

A smorgasbord of styles all with an unistakable Beatles feel, which is weird but I liked it. A concept album without a central concept, which appears to be the concept, unless it isn't. I even like the 'lesser' tracks which build the landscape. An album of 'We do this, which is showing off, and you can listen if you want' An album to Muso over.

Jazz burlesque stand up poetry, LIVE!!

The Elephant's Graveyard of the Laurel Canyon sound.

Not Bad.

Singalong Pomp for stadiums.

This album left me embarrased for everyone. Let's never speak of it again.

Nowt so strange as folk.

OMG OMD. IMHO FAB.

He’s an alligator. He said so.

Like a pastel Stars and Stripes this is very American and unchallenging. The smooth and easy sound that launched a thousand smooth and easy clones. Zzzzzzzzzz.....

Men, huh?

Blues folk. Bloke.

I am disturbed by your lack of jangle.

frank ocean is a boring poopy-pants and i don't like him

Adequate Furry Animals.

I'm not entitrely sure what Love Action is, but they've got it in spades.

The A to B of country and western.

The album that paved the way to the smooth sounds of The Fresh prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff.

Supergroup, good album, average title, poor last track.

Minimalist gloom. Moom.

Can she do mainstream? Yes she can. Is it any good? Tidal-y. -boom tish- (gets coat)

Torchsong album that mostly fizzles.

Why is it always jam today?

Pub rock, rockin' the pub.

Red, white and blues.

Woe to you, oh earth and sea, for Maiden sent this beast with rock!

It began. It ended. Inbetween it played for eternity. It haunts me still. Like a poltergiest.

Krap

Audio semolina. What's not to like?

Yes. It probably is Dusty in Memphis. I blame the pyramids. That said she sings like a warm cuddle.

Not Krap.

Sounds like they released the demo, but it works. Angry acoustic. Angroustic.

Precocious teenagers set in aspic. Still fun.

Cheese and Onions.

Didn’t really light my fire.

Steve McQueen didn't really jump the fence.

Left me as cold as poor dead John Barleycorn.

Named after their favourite effects peddles, narrowly beating the Big Boobs 500X.

The song titles are more interesting than the songs.

They’re the kings of bongo baby.

A chip off the block.

Yes, Black certainly Is. Well done everybody.

In a parallel universe of beards and eye patches this would have been The White Album. Misogyny aside it’s a near miss. Ironically misogyny included and it’s a miss.

Lyrical songsmith weaving gentle poetic stories of the open road and freedom. Being trapped in a lift with her whilst she did this would be hell on earth.

Very comfortable, but running a touch late.

Angry love songs with production set to 11.

Single entendre, double entendre, triple entendre. Something for everyone.

A trip around the world with a really annoying boring nasal man.

Amiable audio wallpaper.

Some tracks are so fresh and clean, other leave me ice cold.

Blue Boo. I guess you had to be there.

I think the time it would take to learn to enjoy listening to this album would be better spent enjoying not listening to this album.

Jaunty music from a dubious man who is probably available as a handyman at a price you can afford!

Michael Jackson's Back In Black. Funky little Disco album.

I was expecting a burning spear of anger and righteousness and got a welcoming circle of friends warming their hands.

Zzzzzzzzvvvvrrrrrr ZzzzzzzzGgggguuuuuuudddd ZZZZaaaallllbbbmmmmmzzzz

Chilled and Orgasmic.

The birth of nasal rap.

Audio equivalent of a sensory deprivation tank. It nothing’d me.

Does not work as pornography.

Dark crooning for the win.

Hardly original, but I can Let That Be.

The pleasure was to play.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!

You are young. That's your fault.

Can women rock? Yes they can.

Suzanne Vega/Suzanne Vega = Suzanne Vega = 1

Simply Shite.

Jingly Indgly

The world is a smooth and terrible place.

Rats could have been hotter.

Finger lickin' just some jazz.

The Rumours are all true.

2 me. 2 U.

A couple of bangers bookend well sung average songs. A 'meh' sandwich.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

A 'kids in the dressing up box' of an album, but it just works.

Neither Nor.

Pop music through a glass darkly.

Nothing shocking. Nothing gained.

You don't understand! They had class. They could have been contenders, they could have been somebody, instead of bums, which is what they are.

Sea Change Beck. Hope Change Back.

Folk’in good.

They broke the mould and made a new one.

No Justice. Just us.

Too gentle to stir the soul.

Kanye no.

The Beastie Frat Boys.

That's the way it is.

In context an amazing comeback built on mostly covers. But no, I don't want to see her do the shimmy again.

Foxy Music.

Grounded.

Sold their soul to be ‘palatable’

He sings with the strained anguish of a man with terrible hemorrhoids.

Les garçons sexy.

About 4 years better than the last one.

Violently Happy.

Foxbase Beta.

So saxy I mistook it for Meatloaf.

Better to burn out with Pyromania than fade away like Def Leppard.

Freaky and beautiful.

Max to the Max.

Twee might in the twilight.

You're turing Violet, Violet!

Moaning and droning to perfection.

Definitely dated.

I didn't know God made Honky Tonk angels

One for the Onionheads.

Does what it says on the tin.

Ken Leeeeeee! tulibu dibu douchoo.

Sssssslllllllllllloooooooooowwwwwwwwww.

Inoffensive and unexceptional country music

If they want to see the bright lights tonight I'm happy to let them and I hope they're a long, long way away.

The undisputed King of Bongo, baby.

Amazing album with dated atitudes.

It ain't the worst that I've seen.

Want Two: Buckle My Shoe.

Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgivings. (A big 4.5)

Down, down, deeper and down.

Bowie Lowie, Eno ELow.

David Sylvian's hair.

Got to love a Mars Bar.

Beneath the hype is a pretty decent album.

dice.blink.luck in What3Words is near Hebden Bridge in Yorkshire.

The Common Bee.

Once again back is the incredible.

I'll take it just the way it is.

A perfect rock opener leads into a mixed bag of decent blues rock and overblown self indulgence.

Taken as individual tracks this is brilliant, but they're not an album. It's just a collection.

They started something. Still hate his voice.

That girl can sing, can sing, can si-i-i-i-ng.

Wears middle age like a comfortable pair of slippers.

Purple reign.

Three good songs buried in mediocre. Less than the sum of its parts.

Pas mal.

A really great album of forgettable songs.

I wanted to like it more, but it fell wanking to the floor.

If the Arctic Monkeys were possessed by Scott Walker.

If frontloading the album with bangers is genius then he totally is. Then side two is nice and quiet so you can have a little nap.

Rilluh! Rilluh! Rilluh!

Just because it’s ALT!

Glam Goth.

Fuck those horns.

Grim Teutonic sleaze .

Ow! Huh! Waaaaaah! Huh! Wooooooah! Good God!

NFA. Nice Fukin Album.

Filler, Queen.

Predicted the mid to late Sixties in the mid to late Fifties.

Back with another cock blocking beat.

Smashing expectations by almost playing a tune.

Hookworms lack hooks or earworms.

Seventies ivory tickling.

Behind Honky Tonk Bars.

A rigged algorithm to serve us a deceased monarch the day after our monarch deceased. That aside it's a excellent album fronted by a whining whinger.

Angry rap. The best kind.

Love the angry racial sci-fi.

Slack Francis

The Winter of '69.

A sad voice you can dance to.

Jeff Beck's endless Blues-O-Matic.

This relationship is unhealthy. Move on.

It came and went without offending or exciting. I didn't notice it leave.

Kinda Prog. Kinda Glam. It's Pram.

If Run On was the last track it would be a five star.

De-Peach.

Proves that you can polish a turd.

"He`s got a mind like a sewer and a heart like a fridge"

Great moments buried in shit.

Freedom from bangers.

Darky Dark and the Proggy Bunch.

It’s a folkin’ knees up.

KISS & makeup.

Like a turd on a wire.

Abbey ever after.

Brought tha Noize.

You’ve been Tango’d.

Snivilised.

Slicker than a weasel.

No

Distinct lack of Water.

Don't do drugs kids.

Bang!

Pas mal monsieur. Pas mal.

Less loved.

It's Alright.

Ctrl+C Ctrl+V

Needed sleeve notes. And editing down to a single album. And even then it's a 3.

All things must pass, but some take a bloody long time to.

Red, white and blues.

Needed more artistic cannibalism.

A nice sit down and a cup of tea of an album.

Standard rule applies. A double album that could have been a better single album.

New Division.

Immigrants, coming here from a land of ice and snow, singing their songs, driving their ships to new lands...

Rosa Sparks.

Any other.

Insipid.

Sleep never rusts.

Close enough.

Cyndi Looper. Time After Time.

The guitar solo... the endless solo... the squeeling... the wailing.. the solo... there is only solo... all is the solo.. we are the solo... all praise the solo... please make it end...

At the start of this album I felt that each track was at least 2 minutes too long, but as the album continued I felt that they could all fuck off entirely.

Passed me by.

Uber Alles.

Shortarsed song thieving genius.

Many reservations. But I liked the half where she sounded like Carole King.

Sweet FA.

I know neither who put nor took the bop to or from the bop be bop be bop.

Roh-kee Hon-kee Ton-kee.

You can see greatness from here like you can see Versailles from the bins.

Beautiful album when listened to on a cold dark night. Had it been on a sunny beach it may have lost a point.

Shook my rump-a.

Forgettable.

FOM oh.

Rewarding.

A great 4 minutes in an endless soup of saxophone.

Our ban hims? Political.

A slow journey from ‘It’s a bit rubbish’ to ‘I quite like this’ through a few ‘Oh, it’s that one’ on the way. I reckon multiple listens would wear into a favourite like an old comfortable pair of shoes.

You can't stop the music. Nobody can stop the music.

No noise annoys as a noisy noise annoys.

A rockin journey through the Southern States locked in the boot of a car. Please let me out.

RumRumRem

Otis Blue, Farrow & Ball.

Bad.

Like a drunk grizzly bear in depression era New York trying to sing to you about its broken heart.

And just like that -click- I was a Sarah Vaughan fan.

This lamb is bland. I ordered spicy.

Like panning for gold. There’s a nugget or two.

If I were a Richman…

Possibly I’ve seen too much.

Where country music went to die.

The same as Urban Hymns but without any good tracks.

It would be tragic if those evil robots win.

Like slapping yourself in the face. In a good way.

N-Isley done... ...I'll get my coat.

A challenging listen. Part genius, part endurance test, part Stockholm Syndrome, part jazz band falls down staircase.

Santana takes Hooker's raw blues and serves them overcooked. Other than that a decent album.

Kraut-Punk

Sounding just like Screamadelica and only 6 years later.

The best it can be accused of is breaking old ground.

One great track and half a good album.

Gallic concentrate.

Jangle but backwards. Elgnaj.

Still prefer an Elastic Band.

Elvis is back, but he left most of his rock n roll at home.

It's my party and I'll angrily scream about dark oblivion if I want to.

Hey now. Hey then. Hey how you doin'?

Didn’t get to listen on a Monday, Monday. What were they thinking?

Exeter! Movement of Jaa People!

Let the guitar do the talking.

East Coast rap meets West Coast rap and ends up in field in Kansas.

Dance like hypnotised chickens.

Red flag for danger. White flag for surrender. Pink flag for watch out I’m giving up = punk.

Lacking Clan.

Tres cool.

Effin and jeffin for ages. Lose half an hour, half the swearing and all the (hopefully) simulated sex and you’d have a cracking album.

Like a Red Bragg to a bull.

She's so much better since she split from Duncan.

Wield the axe. Smell the spandex.

Sound of Silver, second place.

Dr Octopussy.

The clever lyrics of how he actually is the asshole people say he is turned out to be true. Triple bluff.

A touch flabby.

I think he'd been listening to a lot of Dylan when he did this.

Bit boggy.

What if we did trip-hop on a ukelele? This.

Every day is bin day with Garbage.

Saw the top 10 singles one week in 1976 and thought, I could do that.

And you may find some songs thrown together onto an album and you may ask yourself 'How did they get here?'

Gang of Whoop!

Set phasers to ROCK! (Soft rock)

Cornershop didn’t have what I wanted.

Blatant attempt to crack America, but it worked. We’ll done Elton.

If it ain’t Baroque don’t fix it.

And today’s forecast is bland with possible schmooz later.

Angry German hits saucepan with spoon.

Ian Breno. Other Ween Gran.

Surf’s dead.

If you’re happy and you know it go elsewhere.

Amiable meandering bollocks.

Young and old and gone.

Inoffensive lobby music.

I like the one that starts ‘Ha-ha-ha-kop-buh-buh-me-me-me-kop-ha-ha-me-me-me’ etc.

Pure proud pop.

They really let everyone have a crack at this album, and it mostly works. Who new that BoRap wasn't the most epic song on it?

Saneambivalenttepid

Jaunty tales of tragedies.

Tangled up in schamltz.

I’d always thought Harvest Moon would be on this album. Shows how much I know.

And with his last breath Mark Knopfler gasped out ‘Take my haunted guitar and keep fighting the war on drugs….’

A perfect album.

Listened on a Thursday which threw me. She sings well for a crow.

Now I’m living in Exeter!

A few pleasant singles in a very long 48 minutes. Woodn'tface.

Layla and other assorted filler.

I want it lighter.

Blues rock in a hobby shop.

From the top of the flats.

Let England Rattle. Let England Roll.

Bauble and scrap.

You're not destroying anything with this soft and fluffy item.

Less shit than his other album.

Ricky, lose the number.

Life after Beatles.

I'm fine with the fact they feel the need to do this, but please can they please fuck off somewhere else to do it.

Sleepy time rave.

Clown Hair and Tiny knock it out of the park.

Depressed and self involved on a loop for evermore.

It rocks and rhymes that’s right on time.

Green Rocky Road would comfortably sit on a Led Zeppelin album. Weird.

London called while you were out. Please contact us to arrange a new delivery.

I no longer beLiege and Lief after love.

Scoobidy-doo, to be Frank.

Forty minutes of indifferent jangle-whine.

Forty minutes of James Brown not turning up for the vocals.

Putting the fun into funeral.

You can still taste the enthusiasm.

It had to be done and they did it. Well done.

They threw everything at the wall and some of it stuck.

The first album (I've seen) on here not to have its own Wikipedia page or any reference to it on her bio page. Maybe the secret nature of the album is how it made the list! It's a rather bland slice of the Seventies but at least it's a secret bland slice.

3 spacemen walk Into a bar, then turned around and left. There was no atmosphere.

Cheer up Billy. Remember you're a bonnie prince.

Hey, hey now! Hey, hey, now, now!

He growls! He croons! He funks! Roll up! Roll up! One night only folks!

Woolly.

Tres estrellas. (Couldn’t resist it)

Well preserved.

Whatever

Nelson Riddles' orchestration reminds me of the Top Cat theme tune, and that's no bad thing.

Epic bread wraps a solid chug sandwich.

Like someone trying to explain New Wave and Goth five years after it happened to someone living in a cave.

A heartfelt slice of more of the same.

This sounds like a Will Smith album if it was made by the ‘Keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth’ Will Smith.

School’s out! Let’s rock, jazz, funk and musical! Yeah!

Ella-Ella-Ella Fitz-Gera-Gera-Gera-ld. with Gersh for the win.

Not Sly enough. Not Stoned enough.

Ok, influential, sure, but too much US punk just sounds like shouty rockabilly.

Broke new ground and outstayed it’s welcome within one album.

Close up on the sign that says 'We never close'

It made me want to get up and shuffle with my fist on my forehead.

An experience.

Sail away and keep going. You sound like Billy Joel after a stroke. And asking Woody to ‘just leave his hat on’ is really weird.

Sunshine, check. Young girl, check. Wizard, check. Lute, check. Sitar, check. You shall ride, check. That’s Donovan Bingo!

Doom funk.

Begorrah! Shamrocks, leprechauns and a diddly-diddly-diddly o’ the morning’ to yah. Oirish!

They wish. Duo.

Slightly concerned he’s singing about showing his bottom.

Forgotten at the time. Will be forgotten in the future.

Melancholic whimsy.

Mouldy

Wordsmith, dream weaver, conscience of a generation, god awful singer, shocking he went electric because the songs were fucking shit.

It's the Monáe.

Forget you.

Milking it.

Atypical girls.

Delta force.

If it ain't broke...

More harmonies! MORE HARMONIES !!

Tricky to maintian my righteous anger for a whole album.

Baaba Maal Doo-doo-da-doo-da-doo.

Many miles to go.

Two of these stars are for' One, Two Cha Cha Cha' which is so wrong in all the right ways.

Sweet Fanny Adams.

Call it good. Call it bad. Call it anything you want to, baby.

Super and indeed fly.

This album sounds a lot like Stevie Wonder got in with a bad crowd.

If anything this tells us that a man can be turned to steel by a great magnetic field, which makes him iron.

The Soul Children still weird me out.

Brought it all back home. Not sure where we'll keep it.

They’ve got balls, but mostly bollocks.

Width, length, depth, country and jangle. Jangle is the fifth dimension.

If one of my mates had made this album I'd think it was great. Being presented it I feel it sounds like something one of my mates would make.

The Marquis de Sade. Smooth torture.

Reheated leftovers.

Shitty Scent.

Somehow sounding like a Doors, Hendrix, Kinks and Beatles cover band all at the same time.

It felt like weeks.

This album so over delivers that even the self sabotage of a love song to Stevie Wonder can't steal a star.

Pants on fire.

A double album of smooth, groovy vibes to vent about your divorce as part of you alimony settlement. Dick move Marvin. Dick move.

Ha(ir) + Noi(se) Rocks!

It’s alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright.

Maybe I’m dumb but I’m not going to rape him or eat his cancer.

One nation! Inflation! Dubba dubba dubba dubba constipation!

Boogie woogie shoogie oogie.

A-OK Computer.

I got caught listening to the Papa Was A Rolling Stone radio edit so got locked in a cupboard with the 12 minute album version to teach me a lesson. Never again.

Nothing like a happy sad cowboy's tales of woe to pick you right up.

All wheat, all chaff.

How babies were made in the 1960’s.

Just some good old Byrds. Wouldn’t change if they could. Fighting the law just like some new modern day Robin Hood.

A couple of bangers in a bowl of sleep soup.

Tical’d pink.

One small step for a band, one giant leap for US Punk-kind.

Big sad.

Didn’t talk to me, for me or even at me. Sayonara.

Delta and the Bunnygirls. Surely a 1960's B-movie. Would watch.

I’ve got ham but I’m not a hamster.

It was bollocks and I did enjoy it.

Much copied and mostly bettered.

Jack of all styles, master of none.

Pyjama Harvey sounds like they should be on Cartoon Network.

Rock and roll but sadder.

“I just stopped sharking for a minute to get chips and drinks.”

Shit Beatles, shit Beach Boys, shit Donovan, shit Kinks. So much variety. So shit.

Boom and out.

Well written poignant songs with arrangements that aged like milk.

Yes it was.

You’re wrapped in his word for 45 minutes. A great place to visit.

Not entirely Rotten.

Crime is a disease. Here’s The Cure.

Making a positive of not wanting to be at Widnes Station.

If it was little better it would be great. If it was a little worse it would be awful. But it wasn’t.

A bit lousy, a bit comatose.

A lot of fun even if they sound like every other band of the era but without the hits.

Shots could have been hotter.

Da Crapo

Creates trip hop 20 years early and uses it to fantasise about shagging children. So very French.

What if The Strokes became a BritPop band?

A gibbering electric jug? Don’t mind if I do.

Bangers and mush.

Jean Claude Van Jarre parts 1-6. Pew! Pew! Pew?

Moche Brummels.

“But it`s by Julie Andrews And not by John Coltrane”

The introduction of massive hats to popular music.

Now with Coconuts!

Poor show.

The power of friends.

You can almost taste them.

Arms and legs everywhere.

Cutting a rug.

“So what shall we call the album?” “Well, he’s usually introduced on stage as ‘Here he is. He’s an arse! He’s your arse! He’s Morrissey!’” “We can work with that.”

Nailing the wailing.

Turning rock into bollocks since 1969.

Liked, not loved.

Musically I'd never really rated the Ramones. I love the look and I love the attitude, but musically I couldn't see the fuss. Most of it seemed like old fashioned rock n roll. Blitzkrieg Bop, Rockaway Beach and Rock and Roll High School could easliy be tracks by Bill Haley and The Comets. The glam pop of Baby I Love could have been by The Rubettes. It didn't make sense that they should be considered punk. Then I heard this. Turns out they were hiding the punk in the album tracks. I was wrong. This is a punk album and this is great.

About 15 minutes too long, Snarf!

Don't eat before swimming.

Overblown and self indulgent. What more do you want from a rock opera?

What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine.

Poopers at the Gates of Dawn.

Hey! Hey! They’re the Monks. And people say the monk around.

Gather round the piano for an old fashioned family shout along.

Utter bollocks and a lot of fun.

This album doesn’t even have the common decency to be bad. It’s just meh.

This album practically smells like a wet dog.

I’m so horny. That’s Ok, my Willy’s good.

The 1960’s called and they want their tunes back.

When it was good it was very, very good, But when it was bad it was bollocks.

I couldn’t dig it.

Soweto sleepy-time tunes.

Loop-dee-loop.

Be my Spider-Woman I’ll be your Spider-Man.

P to the leasant.

The Sixties with a spiky sneer.

Mostly marvellous.

Rip it up and leave it.

You joyous highs. The woeful lows.

Sat in that sweet spot between excellent support band and disappointing headliner.

Erm… thanks k.d. ... nice Patsy Cline impression … erm… thanks…

Jon Bum Bogey.

I have some questions about Mamma.

Caught up in a conflict between the brain and the tail.

Larks and japes.

Tortoise taught us little.

Dear TV On The Radio, please start playing better tunes or shut the fuck up.

The grateful deaf.

The 80’s cheese embellished dour synth pop won me over, and we still don’t need that fascist groove thing.

Had I ever asked what folk music would sound like if it was a little bit more jazzy then this album would have been a perfectly adequate answer. But I didn't ask and they did it anyway.

Wrapped in his cheesy duvet.

Boff

Curb crawler.

mAAAArk eEEEEEE smIIIIIIIIiIth.

Stay in front Satan. I want to be able to see you, you sneaky varmant.

Could Can? Can Can? Can cannot.

It sounds like a nervous breakdown, in a good way.

Shrill Carole King.

Randy, no. Just no.

I'd expected it to be rubbish and it wasn't. I mean the talky bits were, but in general it was quite acceptable.

Goodness gracious.

If he stopped wanking for a minute and concentrated on the music he could have trimmed a good 20 minutes off this album.

Call the Poll Ice

Misaligned

“But now I feel as good as if I were dead”

It’s really a 3 star album but I was open to persuasion.

Average White Band.

Echo and the Bunny Boys.

An album that has everything the sixties can offer, save for a hit single.

Mah-sheen! Mah-sheen! ! Mah-sheen!

Spray it on and tag it.

Want one. Gets two. Still poor.

In bed with my dinner.

Some fun.

It's rubbish but in a weird way I kind of enjoyed it.

The way I feel about you darling -bwop-bwop-bwop- in the middle of the day.

War, huh.

The whole history of country and western music in real time.

Consider myself lectured.

So Much For This Shit.

Travelling at funk factor 5 (except for the last track where he shifts it into parking).

Big Black Atomizer. Pour homme. pour femme. Pour vous.

Horn stabbed to death.

Love with a restraining order.

Mist 6

Must try harder, better, faster and stronger.

Willing poke.

Mild noodles.

Do I think the Taj Mahal is Sexy?

Like Airport 77? David Byrne hijacks an album from Jack Lemmon and George Kennedy has to safely sound engineer them home. Would watch.

Can’t stand them now.

What’s the ugliest part of the album?

Thurston Less.

Misstra Play-It-All

Damn you and you're well performed catchy music D'Arby!

Just a drag.

CSI 1971

Steve Earl reckons he’s the Country Bryan Adams, forgetting that Bryan Adams is the Country Bryan Adams.

This is a 4 star album, less 1 star for stretching it to 3 disks and less another star for stretching it to 2 disks. They who live by the disk die by the disk.

Unless you try how would you ever know that you couldn't do Australian or Cockney accents? Mad as a box of frogs.

It came, it left, I barely noticed.

'Are you going to tell him the mike wasn't plugged in?' 'Nope.' 'Hopefully no one will notice.'

I just don't know where to begin?

Pas mal

Decent album. Terrible internet provider.

Who knew that it would take just a short 30 years to get over the fact that this album didn't sound like Nirvana.

As long as you keep it as background music it's not bad at all.

I can't be objective about this album. I've been singing along since I was 6.

That’ll be the deicide.

Ooh-er missus.

He runs this rapping shit. Indeed he does.

Neon Bauble.

The brothers gonna work it out. Chemical, not Dust.

“I’m not a misogynist, but…” Riiiiight.

33% Freakin’ great, 33% Freakin’ obvious, 33% Freakin’ awful. 1% lost in the post.

Bland album, but the story of what happened after he died was mind blowing.

Well that just wasted all of our time.

Expected DISCO! Got disco.

It took less than a year for the world to forget that this band ever existed, so I have no idea how they made the list. That said, it was fun.

Listened to it once and it's a 3 star album. Listened again and it's actually a 4 star album. Played some for my girlfriend. Nope, it's a 3 star album.

I’m a survivor, lend us a fiver. If it don’t get better, lend us a tenner.

To the left, to the left.

Sock n roll.

Herd it all before.

Funkadelia Smith.

Beached boy.

They shouted at me, and I hadn’t even done anything!

When this came out I was shocked by how commercial it sounded after The Holy Bible. Now it sounds more like the Manics than what came before.

Underdone.

Streaming numbers from track 1 to track 2 drop by over 98%. That’s practically Domestos.

At least the stabbed duck didn’t have to listen to it.

If you leave me now, that would be just fine.

Thigh slapping, lasso spinning slice of indie rocking yee and haw.

Leapfrog the dog.

A classic example of the extra 'CD tracks' just being filler. Original album a fly along pop cracker.

Fish full of Mercury. Thermometurbot.

Golden Shower.

Orange snooze.

Duke Ellington beat Apoleon at the Attle of Aterloo.

A garage full of arse and bees.

He’s not going to kill us with this blunt old thing.

A five star album less two for the frontman’s recent unpleasantness.

Impeccable gentle lift music.

Axl Rose is an anagram of Seal Rox!

ICU, comatose.

The Unlistenable String Band.

Ribbed, for your pleasure.

40 minutes of being lectured in the form of poetry set to harpsichord. I've heard worse.

It’s not even that good but I did enjoy it. Now I feel dirty.

The sudden mute on the guitars on the intro to track 2 feels like sleep apnea and I for one am against it.

Master of Puppies. Good boy.

Warble, weeble, wibble, wobble, wubble ad infinitum.

Hope I diet before I get old.

One banger does not forgive this dullest.

'She's so funky, yeah!'

‘Flash dance ass pants’

He sings like a grizzling child, but the songs are pleasantly sombre.

Björk being Björk.

It's not just one song, it's variations on one song.

Only one star. Obvs.

Jaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzz.

Milly Vanilly.

Banana.

Rub a Sole. Fish fingers.

Yawna Del Meh.

Sambiant.

Bravo Oscar Romeo India November Golf.

She’s creepy and she’s kooky, Mysterious and spooky, She’s all together Bjooky.

Voice of the beehive.

It made me want to seat-dance.

An album that I wouldn’t really listen to from the 1970’s that sounds like an album I wouldn’t really listen to from the 2010’s.

Head towards the White Light children. Head towards the light.

If I could talk to the Animals I’d say ‘You’re right! We do have to get out of this place!’

Actually Barney is a great singer but the rest of the band miss all the notes.

Blandly Songed Boy.

It's gentle funk. It's junk.

Sad cowgirl music.

The Reign In Blood stays mainly in the Hood.

Skip.

Hitless BritPop.

Sophistication? Sophistication? Don’t talk to me about sophistication, I’ve BEEN to Leeds!

And The Band played on, and on, and on, and on….

Stand down.

Beautifully produced nothing much.

Groove is in Herbie Hancock.

Not bollocks at all.

Rolling stoned.

Road to the Kingdom.

Smothered in a warm beige blanket.

Many issues.

Jack listens to big stack of 78rpm records. ‘Yep. I can do that.’

Side 2 is only 3/5, but thankfully side 1 is 7/5. Dropping bombs.

How was this in 1977? Spelled P-U-N-K-D-I-S-C-O-S-T-A-R-W-A-R-S

Pervy chamber pop.

Method of suicide? Dullness. They were dulled to death.

Iron Maiden’s gonna get you, no matter how far.

DUB40

Eno Beano

A difficult to stream average album. If they put in the effort and lost it completely it might get another star.

Spayed.

A Date With The Everly Brothers and they really go on about their exes.

Inventing maudlin cinematic jangle pop only 30+ years after everyone else.

Like a refreshing nap.

Decepticon.

Later Skinny.

Rock your bottom.

“We’ve got Soundgarden at home.”

Sadiohead.

Still searching.

A Gill of Scottish Heron please.

Words don’t come easily.

Red headed strange willie.

Teddy Mercury.

Peak Davies.

Just a chore.

Yeah!

Nix

Oooooooh that’s smooooooooth.

What’s not shit is dull and what’s not dull is shit. Not their worst.

Indiscriminate economy pack of Americana. Lost a star for going on too long.

Blood and chocolate, or it might be Turkish Delight.

Flew and due.

Doo, doo, doo, da doo, doo, doo, bom, bom, bom, ba bom bee bee ba doo.

Too wry, ay it.

The First Lady of Soul. Possibly President Soul.

You can taste the eyeliner.

Farts and Phones.

La tete comme un trou.

Beige flour.

Is that noise the uncleared sample police knocking at the door? Simpler times.

Rockin' like a clenched fist, mumbling like a wino.

There are many Betta bands.

Every shade of diddly-diddly.

Soft cheese.

Laibach and think of England.

Heartbeat! Increasing heartbeat! Mnyah mnyah mnya bwah bwah bwah bwah bwaaaaaaaah! Mee moo mnyah mnyaaah, Mnyah mnyaaah!

Keep on moving, nothing to see here.

Cod rock.

Killed my vibe.

It’s like Twiglets. It’s awful but I just can’t seem to stop.

Just The Doors doing Doorsy things.

Folk me.

Mild Beats.

Now I feel like an empowered raving middle aged woman in the late 90’s and I’m off to buy a cowboy hat! 🤠

Trying to sound like a British Indie band but hampered by being just too American.

Coldpiss.

In Rock, by Rock, for Rock.

Constant gravy.

It comes and goes.

Scat everywhere. Get a broom.

More of a trip, but you can see where it’s going.

It reminded me of Dark Side of the Moon, but without the music.

At least we had masks on.

LVRCHES.

Neil Young and Sitting Bull.

I don’t want to go to Chelsea.

Oh? Your decks are on hire?

Kind of Beige.

One fat lady.

Call me Ish-Malbec.

Wham! Bam! Mostly Glam!

Trinkets

They’re very friendly but they’re right up in my grill. Just give me some space, man.

In parts the funkiest and least funky album of all time. Oh Stevie! Why do you do this?

Not good. Not bad. Not Queen.

Phair to middling.

*Block party! *bland rock

A 20 second chunk of every song on the album is a joy, the other 4 minutes a drag. Had they brought this album in at under 3 minutes it could have been a masterpiece.

No more times. That was plenty.

Bumpy.

PLANET ROCK! PLANET ROCK!

I can in no way argue that this is a good album, but despite this I found I enjoyed it. Weird.

Colour supplement.

Blandwagon.

Yeezus. That was Yit.

Killed by dad rock, but what a way to go.

Spiderland! Spiderland! Does whatever a Spider cand. Is it good? Not a bit. It's just tedious mumble shit. Look out! Here comes the Spiderland.

Kermit's stoned cousin sings Nat King Cole. Beautiful.

'Greetings from L.A.! I left a tape recorder outside some random bar and this is what I got!'

The Seinfeld Theme’s angry phase.

Half stadium anthems, half sludgy filler.

Short circuit.

In ‘98 when Robbie’s face was on every screen and page, and ‘Angels’ washed out of every speaker in a constant stream of bland warbling I would have rather taken a kick in the nuts than listen to this album. More than a quarter of a century later he just sounds like a holiday camp entertainer.

A hip twitching bum wriggler of the gentle variety.

Alright, but not Grrrrrrrrreat!

Muppets.

Rictus grin.

Give the floor back Jack, you big rambler.

Running out of gas.

It’s like Rick Astley tried to create Industrial but couldn’t.

Congo bongo songos.

Come for the sax, stay for the loons.

What next? Chuck Wagon’s Honkytonk Hoe Down turns out to be Death Metal?

Epic.

Late Bush.

He's not young and they're not crazy.

On the right day this might be an OK album. This was not that day. Awful.

Next.

Half the tracks and a tuned guitar could have scraped two stars.

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh’m … sooo in lerve with youuuuu.

I expected smooth crooning and got taken to a party.

Endless.

Who am I to disagree?

The squeak of leather. The taste of hairspray.

Avoiding their awful name meant I missed this great album, also with an awful name.

For a chunk of this album I was waiting for a delayed bus, and it made me feel like I was in the sad bit of a Richard Curtis movie. Fuck this album.

T Rox. B fly. Didn’t always hold my attention, but when it did I liked it