1001 Albums Summary

Allons y!! Non

How Scandinavian of her.

Predominantly Cons. An extra star for the most misleading album cover in rock.

You’ve had one more time, now you have to go to sleep. Shhhhh.

Pish

Why would you waste one of your wishes making an Australian Crowded House?

It was acceptable in the Eighties.

They’re half right.

The fact it took a chain of people to get this crap out of someone’s head and into my ears makes me despair for humankind.

Getting comedy and great music just right is a rare thing. A very, very rare thing.

…and Sigur Ross dreamt of death metal…

Amy Beerhouse.

Mammoth

Rarely leaves his room.

Dropping bombs.

Oh, I see.

They’re not that big.

Brand New (Heavies)

I ought to hate this but I don’t. Damn you de Burgh!

(Shit*|Bitch*)*

Mwa mwa mwa mwa mwa mwah

I like a good laugh, which is why I despoiled this album.

They only know one song, but it’s a pleasant song.

Undevelish

It could be a great album, and pigs might fly.

We’re all doooooooooomed!

Prock

All Winter and no Christmas.

Jai Ho!

Hairy Piles.

Went in liking one song. Came out liking one song.

It’s a solid three star album with an extra star for coming in at under 25 minutes. I doth my cap, sir. I doth my cap.

Blue (print) Day.

I certainly feel older after that.

Recycled.

Ominous.

British Indie! Glad you’re back!

Lodern Wife is Mar

Bobcat Goldthwait’s Iron Maiden cover band. This is not a bad thing.

I’m guilty of riding the nostalgia train on this one so have undoubtedly marked too high, but happy memories.

Very punk and sweaty, sweary by today’s standards let alone early 70’s.

Death metal techno opera plus. I am here for it.

An object barely in motion will remain so.

Processed.

Yes mate. Whatever you say.

Kilo Kiley

Too many air grabs.

Meh-g-why?

Wicky-wicky-Wicker Man.

After that even I feel like a woman.

Waifs and strays.

Made the Mould.

Bored shitless

Skankstick

Jiggy-saw

And now I’m sad.

I think therefore I disco.

A map of smooth and bland. Possibly Norfolk.

It’s good in a ‘Your mate made this in their bedroom?’ good.

Edit it down and record it properly and this could totally be an album.

Back in the day, no. Now, yeah.

Hell no. We won’t go.

Sleepy Killers

Cheez

Silver bullets banned? Hmmmmmm…..

Rock anodino.

Pheasant

Of the two Argentinian rock albums I’m aware of listening to I preferred this one.

What 3 Words. A lake on an Island in Canada.

I recognise that nasal voice! Surely it can’t be? It’s Weird Al! This must be a secret Weird Al ‘serious indie’ album. Wow! I did need to hear this! Hang on… WHY?=Y?=Yankovic!!! It all makes sense!! If only this were true.

Whoop DeeWhoopo

I was all dressed up for a funeral and got lemonade on the porch.

Attempted possessive.

Poptastic but too long.

Emmaroids, forever.

Not to be sniffed at.

Abominable.

More tame than Impala.

Christ I’m old.

Ruined

O fuck off already.

No hits but feels like you’ve heard every track before. Not sure if it made or followed the cliche. But it’s a good cliche.

If you like Pavement but can’t get Pavement, or other well know bands like Pavement, then you are in luck!!

Joli pantalon

Pops like a soap bubble.

So far from sensational that I’d wonder if his name is even Alex Harvey.

Nope.

Experienced, not lifted.

By daVinci

Vaccinated

Unexpectedly cinematic.

Rips of some great songs.

Zippy

A poor man’s Semisonic, and that’s very poor indeed.

She don’t dance to techno, hip hop or electro.

The best thing about this album is the spelling of her surname.

Madonna-lite.

I quite enjoyed today’s ten a penny album, whose only point of difference is opening with the saddest squeezebox I’ve ever heard.

Went in expecting hard edged psychedelia, got Florence & the Machine lite. Not bad. Not great.

Go on, go on, go on.

I have no idea how this wasn’t Latin Jazz.

If you like Interpol you’ll love this. It’s Interpol!

That’s one hell of a cherry pick in’ walk.

In a crowded field these are crowd.

Soft spongey music so bland I couldn’t tell nor care if it was jazz or indie. It was just bland and spongey.

Under 30 minutes is a bonus star. If they’d had at least one banger in there it could have made a full house.

It’s all Greek to me. And of course it isn’t.

Die later.

More snarky than skinny.

So good they named it once.

The finest monkey business.

I have no reason to enjoy this album but kinda did anyway. Shame on me.

American Sam Fender, or the other way around.

The RnBnQ

If you want The Go-Go’s but not The Go-Go’s…

After the first few track it was a WORRY, but thankfully it got better.

Like being mugged by a musical.

Boring & Der Club Of Bore.

Reaches the heights of second rate Prince, which is a lot higher than it sounds.

Singing in tune is overrated.

Roaring Yorkshireman’s club circuit album with bewildering international appeal.

Norwegian Gypsy Punk? Glad it’s there. Now I shall get on with my life.

Deadpan sauce witticisms.

Shrine of Shite

Funky jazzy Beatles.

Decent enough pop songs, but I won’t be calling.

I wasn’t expecting the bagpipes.

Ultra Beige.

So grunge without bi-polar medication is show tunes. I guess I did need to know that.

Whoever decided I ought to listen to a choirboy rap-bragging about sex and drugs needs to take a long cold shower with themselves. …plus one star for Blinding Lights.

The name suggested cut price Eminem, the album cover promised County and Western. The first 4 tracks delivered heartfelt acoustic folk, and then suddenly you find he’s an Australian punk. I was totally bamboozled. Well played sir, well played.

In the middle.

Low heaped praises.

Band Aid.

Getting jiggedy jiggy with it.

All the shades of darkness from twilight to permanently blinded.

Cracking.

Little pride.

If the question is “Would you like to listen to three discs of uptempo sad folk?” The answer is of course “Fuck RIGHT off!” Having listened to it I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected, but it was three discs so you’ll still have to fuck off a bit. Standard rule for losing stars for unnecessarily long album.

Before they started singing it sounded like the soundtrack to Charlie Brown’s midlife crisis, and I was here for that. A missed opportunity.

Recorded through a sock full of tin foil and kazoos.

Found him