Metallica by 1999 already had quite an extensive discography, and perhaps even experienced a bit of a revival in the mid-90s going into the 2000s. It would make sense to release a live album or some kind of compilation at this point. Having been a thrash metal mainstay in the 80s, they survived the emergence of grunge and alternative to remain part of the popular culture. Metallica very much continues the tradition of rock stars even at forty years in existence. That said, S&M is a different take on a live album, compilation or Greatest Hits offering. It is very rare that a band will rework previous releases in this manner that presumably sees the light of day. Joining forces with the SF Philharmonic and a renowned film score composer, Michael Kamen, we get what could possibly be one of the better live album recordings in history. Metallica is not toned down here as they might even sound heavier, the orchestra and their recording in a theater, adds a tonal clarity absent the lingering reverb/echo of a stadium recording. Crowd noise is minimal and plays as part of the show. Drums are full and can be felt in one's chest, electric guitars are discernible from the string accompaniments, winds providing a new background on each song's 'fullness'. In a way, this album makes Metallica sound heavier, or at the least more complete. Listening to "Wherever I May Roam" compared to this live version, while maintaining its soul, seems to have found a body to go with it. This is the general feeling of this album and its songs, and that makes for a great live recording. There is not really a criticism to be made here, Hetfield is Hetfield, his vocals as consistent as ever. Musically, one can hear the intention and professionalism and this is a good thing for something as lofty as this type of partnership achieves. It is difficult to give this album five stars because it is a live album, having taken some of the more recognizable songs and placing together on the same album. On the other hand, the live album is just so well done that it argues that it stands by itself even after having been propped up with help from established hits, accompanied by an orchestra/conductor of renown. In terms of originality, this album has no predecessor in terms of everything being recomposed for literally no reason other than they can, and they did. Understandably, the album might offend purists. There is a near religious adherence to metal being metal for metal's sake, and this crossover might feel like an unholy union of sorts. Thrash metal, especially one like Metallica, thrives on a certain aesthetic of graphic, that it is in its own way a form of beautiful expression. Coupling that darker imagery with the beauty of an orchestra is an oil and water mixture that should not work, and for the purist S&M could be downright offensive. However, that stark separation presented here in a wonderfully arranged unison is why this will get a disputed top rating.

Not often on this list does an album incontrovertibly deserve to be on it regardless of personal feelings about the band, the music, etc. Rarer still, does the album earn all five stars in spite of that as well. At this time, there are two studio and one live album by Nirvana on 1001. This being their final studio album, it did ride on the success of "Nevermind" but demonstrated more importantly that Nirvana was not single happenstance, but rather a hot iron that had everyone scrambling to strike. While the success of "In Utero" was comparatively somewhat dwarfed by "Nevermind" any band with any dreams of success would be hard-pressed to achieve what "In Utero" did as it would likely be their best performing album of their career if they did. This album captures all of the heavy, the hard, the angst, and grunge elements of an era, an era not necessarily started by Nirvana, however nearly 30 years later, comparisons and root traces still find Nirvana as their common ancestor. Bands who have "Seattle-based" as part of their promotional material is undoubtedly drawing from the mythos of Nirvana. Subsequent or "new" music can all go back to what Nirvana did to rock music in the early 90s, when music collectively abandoned overnight the glam rock and heavily synth'd pop of the 80s. People found that Cobain's introspection asked people to look inward, ultimately for him which led to a tragic end. Casting a shadow on an entire city that became socially ubiquitous with a perception of depression, and mental fatigue. The album deserves 5-stars because it proved "Nevermind" was not a fluke, that Nirvana had indeed codified into the world of music how things were going to be.

Please, killer whale? That is all this reviewer needed to confirm that this album is lost, befuddling, and an object lesson in being a waste of time. Perhaps this album is for musicians, or math-rockers inclined to scramble the brain for no reason other than they can. The pretentiousness that seems to ooze from this album and its compositions is infuriating to where the ears wanted to vomit. With all respect and seriousness, if a listener has to search for an album's intention or motivation, this qualifies as meaningless drivel. Art, such as the one seeming to be promoted here, is meant to challenge and inspire, hopefully to remain begrudgingly respected. This album is just crap, an inspiration for insult and dismissal. If that is the reaction aimed for, then spot on it is. If a band wants to experiment and play chords at random, then re-arrange all that into something that makes enough sense to get a record label to distribute their drivel, then this was it. Every member seems to do their own thing, and they are bad at it. The band is not without some semblance of talent, the whole thing just feels wasted, as though the mindless mashing of chords as a child was praised by over-supportive parents who then paid for a recording session that then was just trendy enough to be looked at as some sort of priceless abstract determined to be refreshingly different. Yes, it is different. Yes, it is not the usual fare one can expect from the so-called mainstream, but at least there we can hear music that is infuriating for better reasons for sounding too good and formulaic. This album is so bad it makes one want to defend pop and mainstream, and that is a bad thing.

The Yes Album is 'ok'. It is not bad, and there are some catchy moments where it is enjoyable as an afterthought, and then that is it: an afterthought that might slowly creep into your humming lexicon over years of exposure. It has that classic rock appeal in 2021 that would make this ideal for any rotation in some place like a garage or shared workspace. The music is benign, to put it nicely, and the vocals are easily ignored. It is prog-rock after all, and the whole ignore-me-while-I-am-over-here-doing-my-own-thing just bleeds from this album. So this listener will do just that, not even curious enough to wonder what it is that is being missed here.

If 2020 had any redeeming qualities to it, this listener begrudgingly admits this album was one of them. "evermore" seems to be Taylor Swift at her most balanced. The foundational country elements are noticeable here, and her foray into pop is too. This is a solid album with a rather unexpected enjoyment.

Aretha Franklin leaves no doubt that she was in fact, the Queen of Soul. This was the music of our grandparents, and to a lesser extent among the first introductions to music for our parents. With that in mind, this was a growing experience, and a meaningful one. This is a good listen, perhaps even great. This listener was not blown away entirely by the album, nor was there an expectation to be. In listening to music from 50+ years ago, the history always accompanies the listen. When looked at in the era it was recorded, the intentional choice of love, romance, but also respect in spite of the tremendous social anxieties, the listener with this knowledge, must be able to an extent empathize with why the Queen's contribution has only increased in its poignancy over time. The subject matter of the album carried romantic elements that society had wrongly held the black community of being incapable. Aretha Franklin broke the mold, and this album showed that love and romance are shared human elements, regardless of color. A frankly necessary reminder for the American society of the late 60's.

Short, strained, weird, are just a few of the words to describe vocals on this album. Lyrically, there is not a discernible theme unless that theme was to have no theme, to stay as out of a rut as much as possible... a glaring success. Fun, immediately gratifying, welcomely disruptive, are just a few ways to describe how this album is overall. No commitment required to actually listen to it, but interesting enough to hear it all the way through rather than skipping. Punk, pop punk, this punk, especially from the early days, is not a flavor for everyone. However, like most genres, the acquired taste happens over time and for this listener, that time is now for punk in general. Talking Heads embraces the silliness, encourages a certain type of freedom, and asks the listener to not worry about committing to this album any expectation of profundity. Musically, the album doesn't have the disarray or chaotic elements usually associated with anti-establishment expectations. The compositions are well-timed, clean, and downright professional at times while still maintaining that blatant disavowal of what could only be described as mainstream. Vocals, while weird and, again, seemingly about nothing, astonishingly fit. This listener cannot speak to how this album resonated with anyone in 1977, but for 2021 this album is definitely for the older soul, and that's not a bad thing. In fact, it's good --- perhaps relieving to engage with something that is serious about not being serious, letting their vision be left to the listener's own sense of comprehension, or not. No pressure.

Firstly, this is a blind review. I have zero up front knowledge of this band/album. Secondly, I will let you know when I do later in the review. This album reminds me of watching 80s television, Knight Rider, if you must know, with house bands singing generic sounding rock and roll that no one has ever heard, until it became cool to license songs directly from the popular culture and make it part of the show's track. Once I get over this, this album still does not make a big impression on me. The 70s were a confusing time, lots of peace and love leftover from the 60s, but also a lot of weirdness and flirtations with chaos showed up in this decade. While this album is from 1970, you can hear the precursor sounds that fully abandoned the more flowery aspects of the 60s, and the more grounded and gritty via a love letter kindly reminding us of the Blues particularly of note in "Key To The Highway". Until now, this album is not that exciting, but it is very familiar. Now we are at "Little Wing" and about halfway through that song, I mark it as my favorite. Not even one song later, a familiar riff hits me. "Layla", a song that is on constant rotation on my local classic rock station, but for some reason is always credited to Eric Clapton. At this point, I decided to see exactly who Derek & The Dominoes were and then it all starts to make sense. This album is basically a love child of several members of bands who would later rise to prominence and define the blues/rock of this particular decade. This album drops right in the middle of significant social change, to include an unpopular war, and perhaps the world wasn't quite ready for it. Granted, the contemporaries would find their footing and give us some of the best classic rock ever, songs that inform constantly what it is that people really love.

If you want that album that stokes that fire of romantic angst, the kind that endears you to the lady who chose you but took her sweet time doing so, then this album is for you. If you want that album that provokes that romantic angst whilst in pursuit of the lady you love, but things haven't developed as you hoped they would, and you don't know why but are insistent they should, then this album is for you, but you might also want to think about moving on. If you want that album that reminds you of how decisive and successful you were in landing the woman of your dreams, then this is the album for you. If you are at a 50s and 60s diner and there's a jukebox, then this album is for you. If you want to relive the late night informercials of those classic love songs of the 60s, then this album is for you. Solomon Burke has the incredible voice of a crooner, with gospel fervor. The album is aptly titled 'Rock 'n Soul' as the vocals and lyrics are very much what we would expect from soul, but the music while not quite less 'soul' seemed more inclusive of 'rock'. This listener knows a lot of little things from this era of music, mostly from movies and pop culture, and the experience with 'Rock 'N Soul' is an educational one. Solomon Burke is just too good at this music, and after further research, it becomes clear why. He's part of, if not the baseline for this genre. We could with valid criticism call everyone else imitators, and lament that Solomon Burke wasn't more popular as some of his contemporaries. "Rock 'N Soul" by Solomon Burke gets a 5/5 for this very reason. We can listen to Elvis, The Righteous Brothers, even James Brown, but this album is a ground zero for those talents. Where this album might lack in experimentalism and variety that appeals to the 21st century listener, this album does something even more valuable --- it defines where our music can go from here.

David Bowie is best in seemingly smaller doses. Love the eccentricity, his showmanship is among the best to ever do it. Not very often does this listener feel that his music matches his ability for the dramatic and extra flair because it builds an expectation that the music would be as non-stop spectacular. Granted, very few, if any album would accomplish such high expectation, but David Bowie sells it better than anybody. The pro and con being that every song that resounds with the masses, the songs that do not exact a seemingly harder bout of disappointment. No love lost for David Bowie, "Aladdin Sane" is a fine album demonstrating a masterful discipline to staying committed to his act, if anything his consistency is the saving grace even if there is a saxophone on "Drive-in Saturday".

"Everything Must Go" is everything a great alternative rock band is expected to be. Melodic, a bit heavy, with aggressive yet clear vocals. Lyrically, the Manic Street Preachers are preaching and in a way grieving. Sad, yet an example of how mysterious circumstances surrounding a coworker, a loved one, a brother, can make its way into an album by a harder embracing of their legacy, and the struggle to move from under that shadow. "Everything Must Go" is an ambitious album as a result and earns a spot in a normal rotation.

If I needed to know not to listen to the Joy Division, this was my sign.

Melodic, and somewhat eccentric musically as well as lyrically sort of imposing a feel that it is a time for stories. While it certainly is not Pink Floyd, one cannot at the least make a weak comparison before dismissing the idea altogether as rubbish, and then have an existential crisis of why this happened at all. Given how a flute is featured pretty heavily, one almost feels a bit offended when they resort to whistling on "Opus 40" but whatever. The flute is actually quite nice, contributing heavily, if not entirely, to the melodic tendencies of the band. "The Happy End" did end up including a saxophone but in the minimum effective dose, which this listener is grateful for. There are moments of obvious repetitiveness, speaking to the rise of experimental rock that one might have encountered within the independent rock scene in the late 90s, "The Happy End" being an example of that in its final minute(s). Overall, the album is pretty good. Music is a prime example of where its beauty is certainly in the ear of its listener. Mercury Rev's "Deserter's Songs" is a beautiful album but if it were to be accused of being bored, one could understand why someone else may feel that way and not hold it against them.

Unexpected gem from 2006. Having never heard of this band at all, it is rather surprising how meteoric their rise was following their debut. "A Certain Romance" bringing back playful memories of ska with its rhythm, the final song is a fitting finish to what has been a trip down memory lane, tracking influences and appreciating their interpretation of their predecessors. "Mardy Bum" in a weird way, the pop-sound provoked a super odd memory of Sheryl Crow's "All I Wanna Do" in its seemingly care-less delivery. Do with that, as you will. Overall, Arctic Monkeys did well to be their own sound yet offer up significant homage to their upbringing and influences. A fine example of how music evolves with joys of the new, and cherishing past and present.

Listen to this album just to understand why "I'm A Believer" became their runaway hit. This is not a bad album, it just isn't really good either without the contextual relevance of the TV show.

Honestly, this listener is not into reggae. "Natural Mystic" however, was a great reset of one's skepticism and built great anticipation for the remainder of this album. Feel good lyrics, religiously inspired, and unapologetically non-aggressive in message and tone will always serve as a brilliant contrast to the reality of humanity. However, that is where this album cheerfully stops while retaining some profundity, and that is at conflict. Love, peace, acceptance are often things that are the result of conflict that resolves through argument, and sometimes even fighting. This album represents the gentle and kind side of fighting, which is letting love and peace be the motivators for a unified struggle instead of through disagreement and animosity. Musically, reggae had always seemed like a very set in its ways approach to arrangement/composition, but where Bob Marley managed to elevate the genre is by using those familiar rhythms to be innovative and different without the stigma of 'not' being reggae. It is hard to explain, but there is reggae and then there is reggae, and Marley's is the latter. Perhaps this is where his talent remains unrivaled and his legacy intact.

The Yes Album is 'ok'. It is not bad, and there are some catchy moments where it is enjoyable as an afterthought, and then that is it: an afterthought that might slowly creep into your humming lexicon over years of exposure. It has that classic rock appeal in 2021 that would make this ideal for any rotation in some place like a garage or shared workspace. The music is benign, to put it nicely, and the vocals are easily ignored. It is prog-rock after all, and the whole ignore-me-while-I-am-over-here-doing-my-own-thing just bleeds from this album. So this listener will do just that, not even curious enough to wonder what it is that is being missed here.

Did the band have an identity crisis making this album? If so, this listener is here for it. Starting off like any 2001 era band would, this built expectations of alternative rock, but then they went the way of electronica followed immediately by a feel-good anecdotal song in 'Juxtapose with U' with punk elements throughout. It is as though Blink182 forgot about Tom DeLonge and made a happy sounding album at the end with 'Presidential Suite'. Interesting album, but enjoyable nonetheless. It would earn a spot in the rotation for sure with its heavier elements, but if there is need for mix-up to break the monotony and pretend you are listening to random radio, then this album is for you.

This album is remarkably boring. Elvis Costello's punk tendencies are wasted here, or even there, especially when "20% Amnesia" actually makes vocal sense, contrary to the rest of the album. Lyrically and musically, we can respect the creativity and composition of this album. This listener would never discourage Elvis Costello from making this music ever again, but it is telling that the need to say that is even necessary.

Easy listening, if this is your first foray into Frank Ocean he does bring a unique style that blends experimental sounds with his R&B/Soul talent. Some of Frank Ocean's style and sound can invoke reminders of Justin Timberlake's solo efforts, but this is a compliment, not a criticism, there are plenty of obvious differences between each to where Frank Ocean should confidently stand on his own here.

"Intro" is in its own right a very recognizable song. This album overall does fall short of the impact that "Intro" had on the world of music if that is what brings listeners to this album, and this will undoubtedly be a slow drip of disappointment for these people. The real payoff for this album is not allowing that disappointment deter one from giving this an honest listen. Secondly, The xx has a sound that is associated much with club attire, or runway modeling. The xx and their gently pulsating rhythms may invoke feelings of retail shopping at department stores drawing from that club energy to drive customers to purchase chic outfits, etc. However, once those things are settled and objectivity reluctantly takes over, the xx is a fine band, their vocals are mellow and they do well for this type of soul. One wants them to be good, and the truth is they are --- once one is able to get their song "Intro" out of the equation and let The xx be who they are, it is a very nice listen and may in fact leave the listener in a state of pleasant, yet unexcited surprise.

Politically charged lyrics with no refrain, hence no circling back to whatever point is being made, makes this album tiresome. Sure, not every album is meant to be relatable to everyone, but this one goes out of its way to achieve that it seems. Perhaps if the listener is emotionally charged and looking for statements put to music, this album might make sense. Social commentaries and criticisms are nothing new to music, and they make for great subject matter perhaps even provoking change or awareness. This is an album that sadly is held captive by the political climate in which it was written. The relevance of that period no longer mattering in the present, it would seem that neither do The Smiths.

As a first for this listener, the album title started off this whole experience from a bias towards mockery. Starting off, the songs were token 70s, a sense of fun and lack of seriousness --- a remarkable contrast to the culture of America at this stage of Vietnam. We work our way through lesser known songs we finally come across "Without You" and "Coconut" arguably two of the more popular songs engrained within the lexicon of pop culture notoriety yet almost completely detached from Harry Nilsson himself.

"Papa Was A Rollin' Stone" is that song where you want to roll the windows down and just enjoy the drive through a city. Funky, at times complex but mostly just straight up fun, All Directions is as omni-entertaining and enjoyable as the title may suggest. The more soulfully slow songs are par for the genre, but at just over 34 minutes, this is an effective minimum dose of the Motown great.

There is some reality to face here, Cee-Lo may be a soul machine but he is not _the_ soul machine. While his solo efforts are respectable, his collaborative works tend to be better. We can appreciate the musical offerings here and respect them for what they are, but whether or not these definitive claims hold any weight is up for considerable debate. Cee-Lo is talented, as a vocalist/rapper/composer his music is catchy, and they do earn their popularity. Perhaps the reason this album makes 1001's list is that we need to be reminded that sometimes we are better together.

Easy listening, token 90s era music riding the wave of Oasis and the like. The Verve's history notwithstanding, Urban Hymns is likely their magnum opus and a sad reminder that they were capable of being a strong band yet were terrible at being friends.

This album has a clear goal, and that is to be a dance album. While we may prefer this over non-orchestral offerings, this requires a bit of a mood that we are never going to be in.

Listened to this while on a road trip, the jazzy compositions made for a great distraction from the monotony of road noise. Vocals seemed unnecessary, the instrumentals are where this album really shined. Cafe Bleu deserves to be on a road trip rotation, if not also remarkably appropriate for background music.

The appeal here of Prince is either misunderstood or not understood at all. Synth-heavy beats, but lacking any punch just lets the lyrics go largely ignored. His talent during live performances and grip on his persona does indeed carry him, but that does not equal good music on record.

Sheryl Crow was to 90s girl pop/rock what Sarah McLachlan is/was to the SPCA, except one is very meaningful in spite of the depression. California/beach/sunny rock/pop or however one can describe this album is okay at best. If this were reviewed in 1993 and not 2021, the opinion would likely be way more positive. However, if one believes that music should in some way transcend the era in which it was released and remain a positive nostalgic experience, then Tuesday Night Music Club might leave you disappointed. All this listener wants to do is try to move on till the sun comes down and a new album is generated.

Isaac Hayes has a smoky, yet articulate style. Harkening back to the lounge music era, this album puts the listener in the shoes of an audience member. A delightful experience, one is inspired to grab a cigar + whiskey in between a slow dance.

It is difficult to listen to this album detached from the events of Biggie's career as a result of the feud between Bad Boy and Death Row, the East vs. the West. Biggie and his style of storytelling is definitely a cut above his contemporaries and even today against the current lineup of rap artists. The feud between East and West, whether manufactured or real, Biggie had a real story to tell. This album is dirty rap, with a very specific story that will resonate with specific audiences because of how personal this all comes across. Toxic masculinity as a result of the struggle for respect, the unbridled sexual conquest of generically available women, and the consequences of these actions are played out as ending in tragedy through violence. Where art imitated life, Biggie would be murdered a mere three years after this album was released. All in all, the album is sad and Biggie is telling a truth that happened to him as a young kid, in spite of academic success and great opportunity, that respect, money, maybe even love, could not be granted to anyone other than from the streets. This listener is not really looking for a story to be told in music, but Biggie explored and rather explicitly at times, a story about life that is contraindicative for people listening to music to feel nice or good. In a way, the authenticity of the struggle supersedes that of the rhythmic blues, where we are forced to perhaps understand something that for many people, is impossible.

Would this band have been better named Stone Age Monarchists, or just Stone Age Monarchy? Rock band debut albums tend to be a bit rough, and this is no exception, minus one, and that it is a good one. Josh Homme has a benign vocal style, and QotSA in general showed early on that they had technical prowess to go with their musical talent. This much is evident on "Walkin' On The Sidewalks" with its repetitive bass and rhythm guitar line, screeching guitars that join rather than interrupt, so much so that it is noticeably intentional. Benign vocals for this listener is sort of what gives QotSA its charm. The band, in spite of revolving members over the years, manages to keep QotSA as their branding. Credit should rightfully go to frontman/founder Josh Homme for managing that in spite of the inevitable controversies that plague frontpersons. This is a solid rock album, as though it were recorded in an actual garage and then being mastered in a studio. It carries a 'real, genuine article' feel that precedes QotSA's eventually steady rise in the mainstream.

This is the type of album for those who are here for a good time, not a long time. AC/DC's first release of the Brian Johnson-era could not have been more appropriate and honoring to the legacy of Bon Scott. Their similarities in vocal style makes them nearly indistinguishable at times, but we do hear the differences at first, but what AC/DC managed to do here is to maintain familiarity of their vocal style with Brian Johnson. You know the singers are different, but the sound is familiar and their energy is preserved. As history would suggest, AC/DC was able to continually raise their profile and become one of the most celebrated rock bands in music history. Title track "Back in Black" is a fine example where Bon and Brian are virtually indistinguishable during the chorus, but we can hear less of Bon's raspiness during the verses. This would be the theme as we pay attention to such detail, but AC/DC was never Bon Scott and it has never been Brian Johnson, it has always been about their sound, and the men behind it. We salute those men who have done more than their fair share of rock.

70s rock such as this one tend to have a particular formula. Yells, screaming, the kind where the tongue comes out the hand gestures in tow --- it's all here. In particular "Child in Time" in its near epic conclusion you can feel the vessels in your brain sympathetically strain with Deep Purple. The album is otherwise not super exceptional, but it does usher in rather effectively the classic sound of the 1970s, where things got a bit rougher around the edges, where the flowers and brightness of the 60s got muted with browns and oranges before settling into the darker acts which eventually gave us bands like Black Sabbath, and Alice Cooper. It can be said that Deep Purple is a safer version of 1970s metal, the kind you can enjoy without feeling gruesome.

This album is not boring, it does have moments of experimental stuff, the sort of thing that makes sense for the decade. On personal notes, Alice Cooper's persona never matched his music although lyrics and song titles would disagree at times. There was an expectation of shock value but that could be due to the fact this review is from 2021, where the social tolerance is markedly different from 1973.

Admittedly, the hiphop scene in the 1980s seemed much more diverse in its varied styles. The debate had more than one angle, and which coast it was from seemed mostly irrelevant. Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five are excellent storytellers. This album is a testament to how that can reach a broad listenership. Light-hearted at times, honest (but not brutally) and down-to-earth at times, this is a well-rounded album. The Message is exactly that, a message. This type of positive messaging merged with realities and aspires for better is something that post-80s hiphop seems to be missing. The evolution of rap in particular has been more honest in regards to the realities, but what it doesn't do that Grandmaster Flash manages to accomplish (e.g. New York, New York) is that such realities need to be told, but what this song manages to do is provide a pathway by educating the conditions of the circumstances. The real listener to the storied realities of that song can see the escape from falling into the dangers of the streets. Great album, sadly the sentiment of its greatness is nostalgic only.

Weird but in a good way. Mindless, no profundities apparent unless the listener has an existential infatuation with "Do You Realize?". The Flaming Lips are melodic, the vocals are balanced well with their music, this is a good listen if not a little depressing towards the end. In a vibe that emits feelings of Scott Pilgrim's more subdued playlists, the change in pace is welcome and certainly not boring, if that is how the listener feels.

Faith No More's "The Real Thing" is nearly prophetic in its sound for 1989. It would be some time until some weird band from Seattle would put the kill-shot on the electronic and synth-pop that dominated the 80s. This rock album is powerful in its delivery, the engineering of its sound is very clean and does away with the pseudo-sound of synth-pop, stadium echo on the snare and drum machines that had heavily invaded rock music at the time. While not quite metal, it is heavy enough to pass for it. It definitely has a more of what would be considered alternative, but the quirkiness of the lead singer brings us back to the decade rather easily to where this still very much an 80s band at this time. This listener expected something familiar to the sounds of growing up in the 80s, a little bit of embarrassment from what seemed like a transitory decade from the grit of the 70s, to the glam of the 80s. Great album, and the "War Pigs" cover was nice.

In 2021 it can be said that the music brought by the British Invasion has become rather ubiquitous. Inevitable comparisons to the rock & roll rivalries of the 60s are made on "Let It Bleed" but make no mistake, these are The Rolling Stones. Tracks like "Gimme Shelter" the song has transcended into pop culture lexicon, where nearly everyone will hear that song either in advertisements, soundtracks, etc... Overall the album demonstrates TRS's growth as a band, adding more and more funk to their sound, as well as embracing America's jazz influences. "Monkey Man" reaffirms the eccentricity of Mick Jagger, and then finally, the other song "You Can't Always Get What You Want" that everyone will have heard some variation of unless they live in a box.

This album is all over the place. Some parts profound, some parts very Captain Planet, other parts just really awkward. Perhaps this is just what early 90s hiphop/rap was going to be. However, there's a major theme of empowerment and a very healthy dose of political discourse as heard in "Give A Man A Fish", an even-handed critique of the welfare system not including education that would reduce its own version of recidivism. Spiritual references, Christian, Humanist, New Age, while looking for common grounds, sort of dampens the credibility of those with its respective followers. However, this album simultaneously criticizes the empty rhetoric of Baptist churches (profound, as it is a foundational element for AD apparently) and the lackadaisical view of the Baptist church by the US government in "Fishin' 4 Religion". Again, the album seemed all over the place but it has an enjoyable pace, a bright demeanor and at times some difficult commentary that are in fact worth hearing, agreed or not. If artists have a platform to stir the pot, provoke discourse, Arrested Development may have done a fine job and for many listeners, could be what they are looking for.

When listening to an album by a DJ, there is an expectation of repetitive yet layered composition. "Endtroducing" is not short of this, but where DJ Shadow separates from the pack is that we maintain anticipation for how each song unfolds. Better even, is that every track can stand on its own and for that this listener is grateful.

If 2020 had any redeeming qualities to it, this listener begrudgingly admits this album was one of them. "evermore" seems to be Taylor Swift at her most balanced. The foundational country elements are noticeable here, and her foray into pop is too. This is a solid album with a rather unexpected enjoyment.

Americana at some of its finest. Some blues, solemn harmonicas, overwhelmingly suggestive of the USA in parts where opportunity and dreams were either squandered or just forgotten. There is not much else to say here, this album is neither happy or sad, yet it carries a type of reverence or gentle observance of life in general. Circumstances, injustices, sewn between moments that should be cherished, the album is very down to earth. That makes it great.

This is the worst open mic night one could possibly attend.

American Beauty lacks thrill and does not bode well for the impatient listener. Less thrill and more chill would be an appropriate assessment of the listener that this album appeals to. Background music is the best quality this album can conjure as nothing really seems to set itself apart. Perhaps a generational chasm separates this listener from the capability of real appreciation for the Grateful Dead's contribution here, but the context of this list does enable a sort of respect for this album. The album lends unsolicited advice to the bored listener to 'come back later' and the advice seems like a good piece.

It is 1958, the world has been on a bit of a pause dealing with the aftermath of World War II, and the Korean War's cease-fire. The world gets to focus on life again with a bit more intention. However, the jazzy elements of the 1930s, 1940s have considerable staying power even more with the emergence of swing, which brings us here to Count Basie in 1958. Subtle differences say this is not your wartime jazz that makes you miss home, but rather that the hard time is over and it is time to enjoy some good in one's life. Great album, excellent for hosting parties or just spending time with friends.

Disclosure: Soft spot in the heart for classic country, and in particular for Waylon Jennings and his contemporaries. The stark contrast of that era of Country versus the pop version of it we have today sort of lends to thinking of the latter as not being Country at all. Granted, the argument can be made that Country changes as the country changes, but in this context when "country" changes it is no longer "country", and the music demonstrates that. Nostalgia is okay here, styles go in and out, it is a part of life. This album checks off the list containing that mix of folksy and bluesy, something created out in a small country town vs. the big city studio (although it could have been) and that is a good thing.

This album had moments of interesting elements, but left the feeling of having been waylaid. Perhaps it would work as background music, but otherwise it would seem that without any previous context, this being an introduction to Brian Eno is rather dull.

Starting with "Metal Guru" there's an element of rockabilly in how the rhythm takes one back to maybe a diner in the 50s as it would fit rather nicely. That's about where the novelty ends though, but not so much in a negative sense. "Metal Guru" may be one of the most successful Track 1s in recent memory where the tone for the rest of the album is appropriately set. Expectations are set with the least amount of disappointment. Even where elements start to shine as in the title track "The Slider" with small bits of strings, the album throws in enough variety for this to be very enjoyable. Vocally, they meld well with the musical composition in a way that neither are fighting each other, it works and it is done well. Overall, this is a great listen and would positively recommend any listener to experience it for themselves.

Christmas albums are usually par for the course barring some weird deviation from tradition. While not weird, the chaotic elements of drumming with heavy tambourines seem to make the album feel rushed, with each carol feeling laborious as a result. This compilation is par for the course. It is not special, and honestly it seems to be giving something it does not have, and that is heart, until we get to "Sleigh Ride" a near instant recognizability given how ubiquitous this version of the song has become in modern pop culture. Eventually, we reach the second most popular song on the album, another pop staple in "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)". Two out of thirteen songs on a compilation album should be an accomplishment, maybe? Either way, there is much to be thankful for in this album and being part of the Christmas rotation (if not just the two aforementioned songs) is encouraged.

Equal parts containing all the now-embarrassing elements of 1980s pop, and endearing nostalgic feelings of a simpler time. Studio mixing in a cave, heavy synthesizer effects and drum loops, the existential crisis one feels knowing that this is either highly processed or borne from a single electronically manipulated keyboard with sounds. The 80s were the pinnacle of music-making embracing the clean shortcuts of computerized compositions. This album hits all of those notes with the type of precision that electronic sound manipulation is designed to do, and to its discredit, it does it too well, for where music has evolved since the beginning, the 80s felt like more of a fad than it did an evolution. The 90s felt like a snapping out of that. It is difficult with such bias against the 80s, to take this album with any sense of meaningful seriousness. Instead, rather than being a gift, hindsight is a burden when listening to this. The music sounds easy and one-dimensional in spite of all the layers, and perhaps there is a way to narrow one's perspective to respect this for what it was in the time it was made, yet one can only be grateful that we have moved on. Three stars for historically endearing significance, for feeling irrelevant and serving as a reminder of when things were weird and embarrassing.

Southern rock always feels like a misnomer, because the country elements are still on display, but the energy and vocals are very rock & roll. Perhaps, the high profile of Elvis, a truly Southern person, is what made murky the waters of country and rock. In a way, could have a few fingers put on it, whether it be country, country rock, or the ubiquitous designation of Southern Rock. "Bad Moon Rising" the most recognizable on Green River, is certainly catchy with discernible intention. It is a rock song, with country music. Further showing the diversity of CCR between the two genres, we get to "Cross-tie Walker" and it is the song one would expect to hear from a local band performing country at a Southern bingo tournament. Either way, if the mood is country or classic rock Green River by Creedence Clearwater Revival will scratch both itches, and scratch them well.

Incredible. Very rarely can an album be all over the place yet thematically consistent. As for this listener, whether one pays attention or not, Mothership Connection and its tractor-beam appeal invokes the sort of positive indifference that may in fact resemble a perfect album. Fun, energetic, yet brilliantly executed, there is just something about this record that balances tongue-in-cheek silliness along with intelligent blink-and-you-miss-it profundities.

"One Way Or Another" the song that really defined this band is here. While this is definitely catchy and has been the theme song for many a brand commercial, listeners would benefit from giving this Blondie album a little more than a nod to pop culture. "Fade Away and Radiate" has a grittiness to it that serves as an artistic contrast to the aggressive angst of "One Way Or Another". The intro seems like something you'd hear if they had done the soundtrack to David Lynch's Dune, but then the lyrics are softly sung almost depressively, and the electric guitar is hauntingly matched to it. From this point forward, Blondie's sound turns gritty yet fun. They are rocking it out, and that's great. The album is strong and straight forward, yet also familiar. While not prevalent, it is noticeable that the guitars have 'djent' (not a reference to the debatble sub-genre, but the sound only) compositions, something more discussed in the 21st century than in the 20th. "I Know But I Don't Know" and "Will Anything Happen" are two of the best examples. Inevitably, we reach "Heart of Glass" and the song sings for itself. The album finishes strong with "I'm Gonna Love You Too" a song no one would be surprised if it had ever been covered by No Doubt, but then it gently fizzles away with "Just Go Away". The interesting thing about Parallel Lines is that we hear a lot of the modern sounds in this 1978 album, but the caffeine and cocaine riddled electronic synth-wave of the 80s made us forget. All that to say, the album ages well.

For this listener, this is the music of childhood. Van Halen's "Jump" is the quintessential example of where keyboards and solid rock & roll can coexist. Having been a 70s band, you can hear the sound change for this album where the clarity of bass gave way to the cavernous sounding thump of the 80s, as though it were recorded in a concert hall vs. a studio. In other words, one would feel this in their chest more as well as in their ears. 1984 by Van Halen, kept the 80s hard while still making use of the complementary sounds that could be produced by keys. While "Jump" is easily the most recognized, it is certainly that way for a reason in that we do not hear it very much anywhere else. The reverb on that creates a bass/baseline hum that quite literally carries the song on a basic, yet profound auditory level. The rest of the album, while not as dynamic as "Jump" turned out to be, is certainly taking advantage of the synth partnership with hard rock, and we are here for it. In fairness, this coexistence may very well have to do with Eddie Van Halen being the player he was, and for that we are grateful. Advances in technology and sound production are welcome, but sound reproduction will always lack that human element that makes it great and meaningful. Van Halen's 1984 makes that case in a decade where changes in the world of music made that significant shift into electronic reproductions being more prominent. RIP Eddie Van Halen (dec. 10/6/2020)

A solid 60s album, but otherwise uneventful. It is difficult not to look at music during this era as maybe statement pieces or written as a cling to relevance. This rating was written prior to looking up who Buffalo Springfield was, and that in itself was a revelation. Nevertheless, let us talk about Buffalo Springfield Again. Uneventful, not very compelling outside of initial curiosity. There are those who think that albums are stories to tell, and for some that may be true, but for the most part it would seem that to truly understand Buffalo Springfield, their story needed to be a bit more linear. Solid album by a 60s band, great for the background or on a porch with a beverage and a smoke.

Having listened to American folk/traditional for a period of time, and going into this album rather blindly, the sounds and rhythm of The Waterboys on Fisherman's Blues was a delightful callback to that, although with remarkable differences that begs the question of why Fisherman's Blues provoked such connection to begin with. Playing the fiddle, in particular, might be that. Fisherman's Blues, as an introduction to The Waterboys will not necessarily say "Here's a Scottish folk band" but as their success here in the US varied vs. their success in the UK, the album is good enough to stoke curiosity. If folk is the flavor of the day, Fisherman's Blues is not a disappointing addition to that rotation and would in this instance be a worthwhile start of a foray into The Waterboys catalog as a whole.

While the album linked to in Spotify has the year 2006, which is entirely believable, this is actually an album released in 1973. Remarkably experimental even by today's standard in 2022, it is a sincere case of a band sounding way before their time. Elements of Gorillaz, Radiohead, and the quirkiness of Beck are triggered comparisons, lending even more surprise that this was from the 70s. Overall, the album is actually really nice. Musically, the guitars are out front, melody and rhythm lack the repellent sounds and chaotic disarray of trance, or psychedelic compositions. Faust sounds like they are having fun, and their ability to groove is worthy of note.

Billie Holiday does not pull any punches here. The venerable crooner sings very personally. Often, solo artists may rely on their talent or technical prowess to sing songs for the sake of singing them well. Most listeners can 'see' through that, and appreciate that as a courtesy. The real test of a solo artist though, is how much can they convince the listener that their songs are personal, perhaps drawn from personal experience, or a piece of their autobiography. The true performer can sing a song everyone knows, and create doubt as whether or not the actual author knew what they were doing at all. Billie Holiday would have you believe she wrote these songs herself, that she is the subject of her own lyrics. She owns her performances fully, and for that reason this album is great for reasons of being genuine. Her raspy, Louis Armstrong-esque delivery that was indicative of her age, gave her performance an authority so to speak, the kind that says without room for negotiation that 'she sings and you listen'. This is a fine album. It is mellow and unexciting, but it is smooth and enjoyable. She sings, you listen, and that is it.

This album started off super strong, exciting, energy that was a great indicator of things to come. The title track had a great riff, things were looking good - great, even. Next song, similar riff, but that is okay because this band clearly deserves the continued listen, surely there is more in this tank. On and on that goes, while the Law of Diminishing Returns rears its I-told-you-so head. A view at their play count confirms it: the first song is absolutely amazing, but everything after that is basically the same with an ultimately downward trend. The setting likens to back in the old arcade days, no quarters left, but the Motorhead pinball machine's flashy lights and exciting "Ace of Spades" soundbites create that false hope that it can be played as if for the first time, every time. Truth is, on the next visit to the arcade, quarters at the ready, the pinball machine fires up at the deposit of coin, the world is lit and the moment is all but fleeting. The same lights and brilliant flashes become predictable, as the score gets higher, the same "Ace of Spades" riff echoes, the game gets boring. The last ball is lost, the game is over. After a brief reset, the pinball machine is back to flashy lights, the "Ace of Spades" anthem playing at seemingly triumphant moments of flash. The realization sets in that the flash and music never changed at the deposit of coin, it was the exact same with coin or not. A quarter wasted, yet still the temptation of a good time lingers, perhaps the next time will be different? Truth is, with this album, the differences were seemingly rehashed for every song. Granted, this is the world of modern music, this is exactly what happens, but perhaps Motorhead forgot to be creative?

At first listen, the draw is slight and the decision to remain engaged is delayed but not denied. An intentional exam of the lyrics of "When I Get to the Border" suggests that as far as songwriting goes, the Thompson's looking to tell short stories. The border is a euphemism for heaven, with golden pavement upon arrival. Yes, there's a flute and electric guitar showdown as well, musically, and that is a little weird. The title track might just be as happy, or sad, as the album gets, with the young lady insistent that she's taken on a date that spans an entire weekend full of dancing, bright lights and drunken nights that she can dream of on Monday morning. Overall, the theme is rather sad and without the sympathetic quality of the blues that suggest tomorrow can be a better day. Instead, the album goes a bit further in suggesting that tomorrow can be a better day but it probably will not. If one is prone to manic depression, perhaps there is an empathetic vibe with which to vent one's sorrows, as well as a mild tone with which to disappear into a corner when finished.

Everyone likes a little bit of experimental sounds to be in their rock, but some people like it in smaller doses. This listener is the latter. Moments later a person may wonder why they are easily offended or short-tempered and this album likely caused it. Perhaps there is a mood conducive to both enjoying the melodically pleasing songs and not feel offensively interrupted by the seemingly deliberate out of tune elements. Maybe this is the price humanity pays for art it does not want.

Every so often one comes across an album where it would seem that commercial success was not the goal. Every so often one comes across an album that looks for commercial success by not trying to be a commercial success. Napalm Death could be either one of those, and this review does not presume those as being their actual intentions. "Scum" is anti-establishment, it is full of social and political commentary, it is the epitome of the genre that seems to find an audience with angsty anarchists. Thing is, no one knows their political or social cues quite immediately at their shows, or from their music. Perhaps in a moment of actual intelligible speech, there is a hint of messaging, and for this genre that would be more than enough, stop the talking and start the rocking. A listener would have to find them, and often after the fact. Truth be told, "Scum" is a well executed metal album, if not the pioneer of aggressive drums, muddled electric, mumble-grumble-growl-shriek driven by an equally aggressive bass. It is as advertised, though, and for this audience the dirtier, the less polished, the less appeasing the better. The title track "Scum" starts that slow and rhythmic buildup, the type where the mosh pit is a gentle wave pool ebbing and flowing before suddenly going above 160bpm and obliterating any sense of safe swells. That is what the song does, it is easily the most 'fun' song on the album. This is a terrible album, and perhaps it was meant to be. Perhaps this is supposed to be the art in its most unrestrained presentation, and that is actually okay.

Incredible recording at only 22 minutes of pure fun. Jerry Lee Lewis was an incredible pianist and knew how to perform, and that is where he really shines. High tempo, exciting energy, it is very easy to hear something from 1964 and feel as though you are in the room. His set at only 22 minutes seems and feels like a sprint, as if it is all he had time for. Undeniably, a great showman even for that amount of time. Quite a few hits from his era, and this is short enough to be a great break from the day's monotony, although the listener may wish to be running or doing something at a fast pace.

This pop version of Taylor Swift is better than one could realistically imagine given her usual fare up until this album. Taylor Swift pays significant homage to the electronic elements of the late 80s, dabbling in the ambient rock sentiments that would give the 80s sound that much needed layer to be taken seriously. The thing about this album that stands out is Taylor Swift's energy, and her range in matching that. Prior to this, Taylor Swift's popularity was as a country artist. Her talent and relative youth helped to grow the country fanbase as well as being a wholesome darling of that genre. The real miracle of "1989" is that her crossover from country to pop was flawless, even if considered risky. The darling persona of country vs. the mischievous pop star persona is apparently not easy. Where some of her contemporaries flat out divorced their "innocent" portrayals/alter-egos by doing controversial things, Taylor Swift managed instead to grow up right in front of us while keeping her dignity in the process. To conclude this, "1989" does not suffer from an identity crisis as listeners are very much aware that this is Taylor Swift "the girl who sings country". The welcome surprise is that this is Taylor Swift "the girl who sings country" now singing a pop album, and absolutely nailing it in the process. The album is fun, has some snark, and includes some anthemic elements that will likely remain in your head involuntarily.

From the opening cadence of just cymbals, it begs the question if that is going to be a major theme on the album. It is, not that there is anything wrong with that, only that it sticks out. "Mas Cojones" is pretty groovy, maybe the best of the bunch, but the rest seem to fall short of matching it. More cymbal solos for "Let The Drummer Have Some", which changes in tempo seem deliberate and well done. "Liberty For Our Friend" is a bar song. That is all. "The Softest Hammer" maybe could have been this album's overall style since this band is good at being intentional and subdued. While their proclivities for being groovy are evident, they seem to rely on that too much here and so its broad appeal, is not.

Heavy and without the chaotic non-sense nosebleed-causing ruckus of other hardcore/metal bands, "Roots" is that dirty clean type of metal where the growling and screams might actually have an intelligible word here and there. In this reviewer's experience, metal generally was a pre-game music choice or something to encourage aggressive focus. Sepultura's "Roots" fits that bill. Melodic and heavy, the sounds/songs are progressive and orderly, yet when it is time to go a bit harder, so is the listener. While Sepultura certainly does not stand alone in achieving this kind of balance between the chaotic expression of metal and the demanding order of focused aggression, it should stand out that they do it very well.

Same initials as Jesus Christ, but cannot make water into wine. Pulp may not be able to make boring music exciting either. It is not entirely unacceptable that songs as poetry exist, but subpar music is. Pulp puts a lot of words to song and while one can appreciate the amount of creativity and talent it takes to be wordy and musical, Pulp falls short in keeping it interesting. It is understood that there are a lot of people who put value in the lyrics over the music, and that is fine and perhaps this is an album they will enjoy immensely. Pulp's wordy descriptions and near witticisms tell elaborate tales, the title track being exceptionally well told. However, songs have an expectation that poetry does not, and that is the music that accompanies it. Songs create a thesis in their chorus, details in their verses, supporting material in the bridges, with driven repetition. Poetry tends to progress and advance a narrative, and be a good read. In reading the lyrics to this, it was found to be a good read. It however was not so great a listen.

Growing up in the 90s, it never registered that "Twice As Hard" was at the time a recently released song. Years and years later, without any real curiosity as to who The Black Crowes are, the thought was that this was a one-hit single from the 70s. Comparisons are inevitable in this genre, elements of AC/DC in the vocals and rhythm, you could almost substitute "Highway to Hell" to the chorus for "Twice As Hard". These songs could be cousins, the hard rocking guitars with that touch of blues and seemingly southern charms. This album can certainly be enjoyed, The Black Crowes do manage to make their own mark here and while they may not rise above some of their obvious inspirations it would be fair to say that "Shake Your Money Maker" earns a spot in that rotation.

The presumption is that the album is bizarre, and truthfully it is. Explicit lyrics taken into account, the album manages to make it bright vs. dark, as if the listener is supposed to find humor in it rather than a Shakespearean tragedy. This is hard to like and even more difficult to hate. While the subject matter on "4 Better Or 4 Worse" seems to be a prank call, it is difficult to find that as being humorous. It is ugly and demeaning to the female recipient, and while it may be funny to the caller, there is a deeper truth to be gleaned from the song. The song is not funny, it is actually quite cringeworthy but it sheds a different light on the story. The listener and probably even the band knows that a phone call like that is supposed to be funny when it is not, and because it is not, it is, because it is a story being told that is outlandish and near unbelievable. Where the band deviated from the usual stories of 90s explicit rap, The Pharcyde instead put their focus inwards on to a different aspect of our humanity, our ability to be silly, at times profane, to amplify the ridiculous parts of life, and still be here when it is over, a roundabout reminder that we are humans. Granted, this review does not pretend to endorse the album's subject matter but it does ask the listener to leave any seriousness behind when listening to it. Allow for some awkwardness or discomfort and try to convince the heart and mind that, yes, it is all fun but in poor taste, and that is the point. It is not often that an album sets out to do what it intends, but this album does and it does it well. Objectively, the album is well-written and The Pharcyde are excellent purveyors of their craft and it sounds like they are having fun with it. The parental advisory is well-earned, and that is going to have to be okay. Hard to like, even harder to hate.

This album is probably their best album. Punk purists may take issue with their maturity here, but it is what it is. There's the punk elements, there is also more pop-alternative the likes of which gave Green Day a broad exposure. The guitars are heavy and catchy, the subject matter cynical and au contraire to whichever political opposite may exist at the moment. Is it the simpler more frustrated sounds of punk? Not really. Whereas punk had a message up front, "American Idiot" buries it in between hummable melodies and catchy choruses here. Their audience, even if politically opposite would find this album enjoyable just by the sheer variety it offers. Not everyone listens to music for anything profound, sometimes they want a great beat, sounds that make life or work more enjoyable to experience. This album can do that, and a little bit more if you want it to.

Listening to this album twice and losing interest both times does not bode well for it. Perhaps if the mood during those attempts were a bit more subdued, one could appreciate the safe sounds of this album, the smooth talk of love and easy vocals, the near fantastical place where these things come from. That is the experience one could have, but not the experience reflected here. It is one of the more questionable selections for 1001, but for the aforementioned. Maybe, just maybe that desire for safe, serene, perhaps even vestigial emotions that the album provokes is what makes it special, because the whole thing feels unattainable as though we are listening to someone's romantically inspired lucid dream. If that is the case, then 'mission accomplished'. Not a bad listen, but so very middle of the road.

In that section of the world of arts where things are weird seemingly deliberately, "The Sensual World" is right at home. Kate Bush seems to sing from the back of her throat, very rarely belting out lyrics from her whole being. The title track paints a desperate overly saturated picture of a romance novel's cover art, heavily implicating that maybe this album is not just by a woman, but perhaps even for women. In the world of 1989 finding love in a computer from a program ordered from a magazine is either super weird or remarkably prescient, or both. "Deeper Understanding" could have been a metaphor in 1989, but today a person might hear the song and wish for a voice console that meets intimate needs. The addictive properties of personal computing that current (2022) society deals with compared to how it was in 1989 is largely amplified to include the need for family interventions. As the song progresses, even the lyrics break down into the broken brevity of computed language. As far as an opinion on the album, at least this is slightly better than Suzanne Vega anything, and that's generous.

This album is chock full of late night infomercials selling a catalog of music from the 60s. It is likely that nearly every song is recognized as being a hit for its time, but the viewer has no idea of who the band is, The Sonics. If Applebee's is a known eatery in your region, you may recognize their jingle as being as a play off "Do You Love Me" or if you ever watched the movie "Beethoven" of the early 90s canine sweetheart St. Bernard, "Roll over Beethoven" features heavily. Album-wise, the recording leaves much to be desired. The quality of AM radio in a digital age is a bit difficult to sit through even at just under a half an hour of music. The drums do seem to stand out quite a bit, rock elements popularized by Elvis exist, and the high energy of gospel/soul also make appearances. The Sonics definitely seemed to have put their heart into the performances and that is something to respect. The evolution of rock from this era to present certainly makes it sensical that The Sonics were likely a part of that, especially as an American band.

High-pitched melodies from a keyboard/organ, shouting lyrics, energetic drums, yet somehow this was not quite punk and way more funk. In a way the sound is futuristic and something one would expect from an episode of "The Jetsons". The album opens with "Planet Claire" using what had become an ubiquitous bass line synonymous with action television of the 60s the kind that is familiar to anyone who has watched "Nick at Nite" at any point in their life. Playful and fun, again, something akin to the enjoyment and perhaps dystopian vibe of "The Jetsons" where fashion is eccentric and okay, where old-fashioned does not exist or even matter where the world is in automated order in need of flirtation with chaos. The album is remarkably progressive in this sense. Punkish attitude minus the statement pieces, it is though one has stepped into the world of Scott Pilgrim where a strange mix of apathy and personal drive have collided. The album lyrics are anthological with themes and linear storytelling seemingly nonexistent, but rather than being lost the B-52s have assumed the role of tour guide from Planet Claire to the exciting life on a beach.

Miles Davis, a name associated with jazz greatness even via hearsay puts all rumors to rest here. Truth be told, this is more than jazz. Sure, the elements of jazz are here but this is somehow more. Jazz is highly specific in the type of fan it garners, but "In A Silent Way" seems to reach beyond that. Jazz tends to get lost on most people, this reviewer included, but where this album shines is that there is a constant guide through both tracks that helps maintain bearings. While not the repetitive grandeur of Ravel's "Bolero", "In A Silent Way" keeps to a formula and builds on it layer after layer after layer giving this album a newness at each depth worth exploring over and over.

If it has been a while since being on a vacation, this album will remind you of that. Bebel Gilberto's easy-going, laid back sort of croon very easily slows things down. The contrast of that against an energetic yet balanced band is pleasing however, as the brain suggests conflict and satisfying resolution all at once. While this style of music is not the usual choice for this reviewer, it is very easy to respect and think fondly of the experience.

It is not unusual to hear an album and either wait for it to get good, or skip to the favorite songs. This album is no exception, up and to the point "Walk This Way" is reached, Aerosmith is a hard rocking chore to get through and perhaps that is what lends the song its dominating popularity for how sweet of a reward it is to have gotten there at all. Small break in between, "Sweet Emotion" is on deck and from there whatever Aerosmith desires one had has been likely satiated without so much as a thought to the rest of the album. The review may seem indifferent or negative, so for the sake of objectivity be reminded that it is not often that an album produces two immensely popular tracks that stand on their own. Unless one is an Aerosmith fan, it is not likely that the radio listener even knows that both songs came from the same album, nor would they know that it was from 1975. Fast forward to the 90s, Aerosmith achieved an unlikely popularity and relevance again having followed the formula that "Walk This Way" and "Sweet Emotion" set forth, one can certainly trace the lineage of their popularity back to this album.

Introductions to The Cure are mostly their brighter and more jovial offerings. "Pornography" however is a bit dark and moody with a seriousness throughout. In a way, one almost wonders if this was The Cure at all as nearly all subsequent releases were brighter, more in-line with the decade trends. With that in mind, this album is incredible albeit the subject matter indicating a certain depth that should be uncomfortable. Misery loves company, and misery may in fact love this album.

Musically, this album is great to listen to, a throwback to Western-style compositions, transporting one's imagination to the Old West. Spoken word/story-telling is certainly captivating until the subject matter callously reminds the listener that this is not western music. However, where this album subjectively fails is in the literal storytelling. Explicit language, innuendo, etc., these things may further storytelling in other mediums, but here it feels more like an intentional means of cutting one's self off at the knees. Inserting explicit references for perceivably no real reason to tell a story that ultimately fails at telling anything is frustrating to experience. "Swagger Lee" being the first cringe-worthy song, we are treated to an incredible setting with an interesting set of characters, until all of that goes away with "Swagger Lee" being nothing short of a despicable villain. "O'Malley's Bar" doubles down on the poor story-telling topped with terrible singing, sort of asking the question if whether or not this is where Kanye West learned how to not hold a note. This album is incredibly disappointing in spite of its capability to be a good jam. All the makings and presentation of a great gift, lacking the substance of anything meaningful.

The play count on Spotify at this time should have been warning enough, but alas, an attempt at being open-minded backfires. Perhaps a success in small circles, but no justifiable reason this review can conjure as to why a person should listen to this prior to leaving this mortal plane, except for an object lesson in what is bad. If one has proclivities to enjoying cabaret music, or storytelling through song without context, then this album could very well be the scratch on that itch. What this album is not though, is enjoyable, and perhaps because the genre/style is very specific. Ute Lemper and her guests on this album perhaps made an album only they would be interested in. Ute Lemper is a talented singer at times, but at others it is though she is impersonating a bad version of herself. Perhaps, this is the fault of the music being put to wordy stanzas that have no rhyme or reason, with fluctuating highs and lows that would never sound sensical in a song worth listening to vs. a song being played out a la theatre with accompanied visuals. While it may be considered a lack of imagination for those that might find this type of music exhilarating, the fault here is that the imagination lacks motivation. It is a chore to the mind, it is that excitement of a new food and moderate expectations that instead gets met with dislike. In fairness, "You Were Meant For Me" did make better use of melody and vocals, granting the type of repetition that makes music inclusive, but it ends there and is not enough to redeem the overall experience of this album as being anything other than dismal. The album very likely can find its appreciation in the world of cabaret, music theater, the niche elements of broadway entertainment, but that is it, and that is okay within those shared interests just not here.

"Vulgar Display of Power" is a remarkably heavy offering, and one can hear the inspiration in later bands where growling vocals put more into being loud but also with better clarity encouraging unification of listeners through sing-a-long. Musically, the driving beats the heavy distortion sounds clean on this album, driving home the point of clarity. Where heavy metal seemed to embrace chaos, there was a touch of beauty here as well. A fair example is "By Demons Be Driven" with its clear hook, but modest drums, loud and screaming vocals leaving no doubt to what is being sung, with chants of "beckon the call" complementing the chorus, giving us the dark and gritty. In an interesting change of pace, we get a ballad in "Hollow" until about halfway through when the emotions explode into anger imploring their best friend to emerge from an apparent vegetative state. However, this is about as interesting as the album gets. The energy only lasts so long if you are not doing something else to match with it.

This album is at best, an okay album making it difficult to appreciate as an album necessary to listen to. There are some emo elements, which while not exactly a turn-off, does not warrant any particular endorsements as a result. Perhaps this wide-range of pop-rock mixed with the aforementioned is where this album can be acknowledged for having shaped a genre. Add to the rotation for when not feeling the urge to pay attention, Big Star makes good music and the listener is likely to feel indifferently okay about it. That is not a bad thing, and perhaps on a different day that mood will be more favorable.

It would seem that the 70s had a thing for organs in the higher register leading the melodies, and one should be grateful that this trend is no longer as prevalent. It certainly has its place, and one should hope it stays there. For a little bit, it seems that the keyboard prevalence was dialed down for "Princess of the Streets" but then during a bridge, it made a rather not-so-subtle return on what had been a mainly guitar-centric song. While the style is indicative of the decade, The Stranglers did manage to strike a difference from the more melodious tendencies of their contemporaries. Focusing on the groove, less on the repetitive choruses, The Stranglers perform their version of storytelling through song, much of it seemingly nonsensical or intended as some profound satire but for some listeners that could be the point because this is punk rock. Musically, keys notwithstanding, aggressive beats and adequate electric guitar inclusions keep the listener mostly engaged with minimal risk of losing them altogether. For this reviewer, the best punk rock is the kind that makes one feel as though they should be listening to it. While The Stranglers achieve that appeal on some songs, they do not on others, but that is purely an issue of preference. Objectively, this album has heart and it seems up front about being what it is, and there is respect to be had there.

Perhaps some of the smoothest rock in history, the tamped down vocals, the warm tones, make appreciated a much needed break from their higher energy contemporaries. Where the 60s were looking for excitement and noise, this album found what could be felt as a sacred serenity for the rock genre. The pop genre was cannibalizing rock, and the genre needed an injection of authenticity. Whether or not this was the intent of TVU cannot be confirmed, but the history speaks for itself as to why this album stands out. Perhaps Jesus did indeed help them find their proper place here.

While some thought is given to the album playlist this week being a bit more on the mellow side of things, "Red Dirt Girl" is still a welcome addition to that mood. Melodious and catchy, this is where rock, eh, country music should always find itself even in the midst of its own evolution. Heartfelt, incorporating country mythos into the modern romantic, this turn of the century album opposes with class the beer-in-one-hand-tractor-wheel-on-the-other bro-country that has plagued the genre with creepy misogyny and with questions as to whether or not Country has a place in music. Released in the year 2000, kicking off a decade where country had a bit of a pop resurgence, paving the way for Lambert, Musgrave, Swift, Underwood to cross over just enough and bring the genre back into being part of the bigger entertainment show. Where this album sets itself apart though is that it keeps the 'old' country in mind, telling a story that a city person could only fantasize about, paying homage to blues, and demonstrating the growth from a more folksy era. "Red Dirt Girl" is a surprising take on country music bringing a rock ensemble to play it.

Flutes in rock music is an issue of controversy, and the flute did not go unnoticed throughout the first tracks, but the song "Up to Me" features some exceptional talent by their flute player in where they are making use of the flutter tongue technique. Appreciation of that skill aside, flutes remain controversial in a rock band, but this is also the 70s, and where would rock be if not for what this decade produced? Title track is instantly recognizable, a quick perusal of the lyrics suggest that the song is dark and weird. One should do with that as they will. "My God" is a scathing critique of religion (featuring much of that flutter tongue flute, including an aggressive flute solo) and its role in bad history. This song in particular really demonstrates Jethro Tull's fusion of rock and jazz, perhaps even being their best presentation of it. Progressing through the album, it has become clear that the flute is heavily featured on several songs, and while that remains controversial to this reviewer, it needs be noted that Jethro Tull's expertise with the instrument may in fact be their differentiating factor versus other bands where the flute is intentionally included as part of the band's musical identity. Overall, this album earned so much respect in spite of the preconceived bias against flutes in a rock band. Take the flute away, you have a solid 70s rock band putting out groovy melodies, and weird lyrics, but then you'd be left with a cookie-cutter band of this era.

First impressions are that this is a beautifully played album. The acoustic guitar is played tightly wound, the upright bass comes through adding depth to the recording. "Laughing" a clear favorite on streaming services, the aforementioned is delightfully demonstrated. Overall, even as a solo artist, Crosby cannot escape the connection to Crosby, Stills, (&) Nash & Young where comparisons are inevitably drawn, but where an ensemble of musicians may bicker over creative control we are instead made privy to Crosby the way Crosby would do it, and that is okay. He is backed by several guest musicians, all masters of their craft. The album is beautiful and it is definitely more on the laid back side of things, and certainly a recurring theme in recent days reviewing albums on this site. This album deserves a spot on the rotation, either on shuffle or for casual days.

Classic heavy metal, clean sounds from Tony Iommi and wailing vocals from Ozzy Osbourne there is not really any reason to criticize Black Sabbath on their self-titled album. Absent their most popular offerings, the album sheds light on their beginnings giving listeners a baseline for the powerhouse of metal they would become.

Immediately, the feeling that one is sitting down to watch an office sitcom engulfs the mind as "Monday, Monday" drones on. Trudging along, "California Dreamin'" comes on and now if the listener has ever watched television or been to a department store, the familiarity settles in. Now, there is an expectation that if a band is capable of such a one-hit wonder, could it be that the rest of the album is worth a shot? Truthfully, it is, because this is a very safe listen. You can play this casually in the car with your windows rolled down and no one will judge you too harshly. One's mother could even be adequately assured that their progeny has not given their soul or subjected their brain to filthy music. Whether or not the listener can enjoy this album is where the real test lies. This is a safe album, there is no sense of profound, no lasting persona on part of the band that gives notoriety. This reviewer in particular does not look for any of that, but is simply pointing what should be obvious, and letting that be the guide. The album is fine. It is not boring per se, it carries with it a gentle nostalgia and an appropriate amount of hype, a reprieve from another overrated 60s rock band. Shots fired.

Firstly, one should watch the film that inspired Wu-Tang, and this album. Secondly, Wu-Tang Clan here is an incredible album. It is like listening to a bunch of grown-ups that loved a movie so much, they used it as the backdrop for a rap album incorporating life, the streets, everything. Definitely, a truly creative effort by what is essentially a super-group of rap artists now producers, etc. The album is fun, it is crass at times, but from an objective perspective the compilation of talent and seemingly original content does make this a masterpiece. Rap/hip-hop is not the usual fare for this reviewer, but it is known that there are indeed some real masterpieces out there that need to be heard, and this has been one of them.

It is now clear that music education is necessary to appreciate the eccentricities and purpose of this music. In a way, it has the complexity of jazz where to a trained musician or particularly particular ear, the fluctuating beat, timing changes, etc. have their intentional place in which their brilliant execution can be appreciated. Does this make for good music though? Objectively speaking, yes, Ravi Shankar's tutelage on the purpose of each instrument lends a sort of cheat sheet to the Western ear as for what to listen for. There is an enjoyment in what is now a new experience. However, the sustainability of that rudimentary understanding is low over prolonged listening. Eventually, the music goes back to being culturally out of reach for the Western audience. There is much to appreciate here, and this review would never seek to discourage at least one play-through with a little bit of intentional listening. Three stars feels a bit generous, and it is, but two-stars would be disingenuous.

First exposure to the band with this album, the lead vocalist was strangely familiar. After a little research, it is somewhat surprising to learn of Rod Stewart, seeing that his solo career sort of puts a damper on the impact of Faces as a band, asking people to instead see how its individual members fared. The album is a solid 70s rock album. Rod Stewart as a rock vocalist, as long as one can ignore that it is Rod Stewart, can still insist that this album is a well-done, and consistently good production. While none of the songs stand out in particular, this actually may be a good thing. Start to finish, the album is what it is, and that is a solid 70s rock album. An honorable mention is the end track "That's All You Need" --- because that is what this album seems to give.

It may be that rap albums hit some kind of pinnacle in the early 90s where the clean lyrics and fun rhymes grew into something more complex but also more raw in its content. Maybe that was an East vs. West type of thing. Notably, the album's sound includes a lot of jazz elements, simple beats, and a very modest yet effective DJ. Lyrically, it comes off as an inviting narrative to 'come and sit while I tell this story' and the listener is indeed compelled to do just that. Where rap music eventually turned into various outlets of strong expression, this album is way more conversational in its delivery and less confrontational. "Just To Get A Rep" or "Execution Of A Chump" stand out as the implications of violence that this portion of the hip-hop culture draws much of its emotion and content. Thing is, previously mentioned, the listener is compelled to hear this out. Over time, this subject matter has lost its importance because of its marketability and most people see it for that thirty years later as though Gang Starr knew that "Just To Get A Rep" is a reality moving forward. The album may have more musical reasons for being on this list, but for this listener and perhaps because of an old soul, this album creates a nostalgic desire for 21st century rap/hip-hop to come back with that authenticity. An authenticity that perhaps Gang Starr prophetically touched on in "Form of Intellect" with "...oversaturated market, full of wackness" and "get real, get deep, so you can keep involved, resolve and solve, so you can make the calls". If one pays attention to the current entertainment industry, the power figures in rap/hip-hop seemed to have heeded this advice. They may have come up from the streets per se, but they did not stay there. These men and women are now moguls in their own right, kings and queen makers of that world. "Step In The Arena" is a challenging album, maybe even a bit preachy but that's the value here and perhaps a more philosophical reason this album is on the list.

Not much to say about this one. Driving beats, solid electronica, unimposing vocals, layered repetition, one could put this on and get taken back to the 90s, maybe even pretend they are in the Matrix. This is an album that can be forgotten while it is still playing, but in a good way. For the period of time where dance, techno, electronica made their way out of clubs and into movies, commercials, hype albums, we can look back at that as having been an interesting yet appropriate thing for the time. It may seem a bit silly today, but music and nostalgia go hand in hand. This album is worth the walk, or dance, down memory lane.

Public Enemy brought aggression to rap/hip-hop and easily incorporated hype into the genre. Simple beats and easy to hear rhymes coupled with social and political statements make for a compelling listen. Things take a strange twist though with "She Watch Channel Zero?!" and this album starts to hit differently, because 1988 should not sound as hard as it did here. It was though Tom Morello traveled back in time, and then in 2017 we somehow ended up with Prophets of Rage the supergroup. In terms of why this album makes the list, we hear Public Enemy confront issues as broadly as government, racism, accusations of sampling, etc. making their contribution to a much wider conversation, or perhaps in 1988, trying to start one. Overall the album certainly gets points for being culturally relevant, and is one of the offerings from the late 80s that still can be heard today. Public Enemy has that appeal to be heard, and it compels the listener to do just that.

Singer/song-writers are not always the favorite for this reviewer. There is no exception here with Randy Newman. While the talent of putting music and words together is an oversimplification of what Randy Newman does here, the bottom line for this review is the question of "Why?" Why is this important? This album is track after track of walking into a conversation that has been happening for some time, no context, no circling back, each song having its own self-contained continuity stoking zero interest as to whether or not the listener should care to listen. Truthfully, the mindset going into this album was one of open-minded and intentional patience, but that only asked the second question: "How?" How is this important, and to what degree of impact did this have on the world of music? No denigration of Mr. Newman or his music is intended here, a limited number of humans have his talent to tell a story and play the piano at the same time. In terms of an album though, this would probably have more appreciation at a dive bar, or lounge, complete with spirits and smokes. By all means, this should not discourage someone else from listening to the album, it was simply not for this listener.

Led Zeppelin has a bit of cultural, historical ubiquity that may in fact work against them if you are not already a fan that has followed their discography. A large catalog with several hits tend to skew the experience for new listeners where devoting intentional listening to an album might seem a boring affair. Thing is, most bands do create favorite songs over the course of their discography, but few ever put out an album that demands its own place in its history in its entirety. Even fewer do it more than once. LZII carries with it a near frenetic (but never frantic) pace, driven by a deep bass, heavy guitars, and an at times shrieking Robert Plant, few other bands really balance this energy with tempered moments to prevent listener burnout. A testament to their mastery of the blues, 1970s rock had a tendency to find a groove and stick to it, but Led Zeppelin managed to groove within the groove and stand out. Sure, "Whole Lotta Love" is a runaway hit on this album, and perhaps it carries the remaining tracks with its momentum, but the band avoids entirely the one-hit wonder syndrome. The modern day metrics we get to see for the additional tracks suggest a more than modest success even without "Whole Lotta Love". Secondarily, as history has had time to figure out how to treat Led Zeppelin, their offerings are not bolstered by the loss of their front men. It is arguable that if Lennon and Cobain were still alive today, that their catalog and surviving bandmates would enjoy the post-success that they do, a happily paid cost for keeping them with us however. Overall, this album drives hard and the ride is fun. The roots of rock and blues are evident, but they are launch pads versus fallbacks. There is a sense of danger in the ride, but at no point does it feel unsafe. The vocals and the music exude such an incredible confidence that either Led Zeppelin knew what they were doing, or they were too and the only thing the listener needs to do is get in and go.

The Flaming Lips, eccentric name aside, is weirdly never hit never miss in the two albums that this list imposes upon the listener. Perhaps that is the why here, that music that neither bores nor excites, softens or enrages, that one could both wake up and fall asleep to, does in fact exist and can be simply accepted for what it is. While innocuous music certainly is not rare, The Flaming Lips have in a way made their generally acceptable sound their selling point. Their sound does not seem heavily engineered, lending them a certain feel of indie-rock without the shortfalls of a limited or inexperienced budget. Musically, the drums were probably the most noticeable in terms of being different. "The Spiderbite Song" being an example, where the drums were given some added effect. However, upon closer listening the drums seemed to have consistently been tweaked in a creative way, as if they refused to use a drum cage opting instead to put the drumset somewhere else in the building and keep all the doors open. Overall, this is a fine listen and the band sounds young and motivated. Vocals are not perfect but they are not trying to be, and that lends to the aforementioned indie-band feel.

No clever quips about this album, the album is straightforward and dare it be said 'beautiful'. The energy associated with Brazil and the scene that is the Carnevale is rather subdued brought into a more a personal light, and that is a good thing here. Vocals are smooth and seemingly disciplined, as well as the jazzy arrangements that still invoke the spirit of the Copacabana-craze just without the noise.

Ever wanted to wake up and take a nap? "He threw the bottle over, broke a minute later, and he put his hand on mine." was this a weird Doctor Who episode where they were drinking from the upper edge of the troposphere and engaged in active littering? Jaw harp. Interesting add, but it works here and its modest usage is worth noting. In fairness, at the time of this review the desire for a bit more energy skews the favorability one might have for this album on some other lazy day. Unlike many songwriter/singers (the inverted labeling is intentional) Leonard Cohen's offerings here are fine at best. His lyrics are a bit interesting at times, and musically there is nothing super amazing about it, but at the least he does sing with his music rather than in opposition to it. It seems that some songwriters when writing their songs, treat the music as an afterthought because the focus is on the writing/lyrics. This is fine, there are people who certainly prefer one over the other. However, where Cohen does excel over songwriters like that, is that he seems to have given equal effort to the lyrics and music working in harmony together. His songs present a complementary experience of verse and song rather than a contradictory one. This complementary presentation soothes (or bores, depending on the day) the brain, and if the energy of an album is going to be low like this, then this is how it might should be done.

Positively speaking, this album contains many of the tropes of the 70s, from the R&B smoothness to the Disco beats, and it does it with real authenticity. While not the usual fare for this listener, the album experience on Spotify was great, the tones and sounds were warm, the vocals were clear and distinct, it was a well-executed-for-this-ear listen. "We Are Family" a most recognizable chorus that has claimed its status as what will likely be a permanent social/pop culture reference, is certainly worth the full listen. Put aside the commercials and with intent disavow the jingly reputation of the song, and give Sister Sledge an opportunity to introduce themselves.

Remember that part in Finding Nemo (2003) where Dory speaks whale? It would seem that in 1973 John Martyn did it first with somewhat wailing vocals in the title track. "Solid Air" the title track has a Nick Drake quality to it, and while 'solid' and 'air' may bother one's high school education, the song itself lends a bit of surprise with following tracks that go more jazz-inspired. In a way, if this album had been more of "Solid Air" style, the rating would be affected more positively. Jazz and singing to jazz are two very difficult things, especially for a non-musician, to be objective about. "Dreams by the Sea" is a groovy melody with seemingly ad lib moments that thankfully did not devolve into scat, but depending on how one processes jazz, this reviewer tends to dislike having to decode both at the same time. As if this album had more to give, "The Easy Blues" changes the pace considerably. The folksy Nick Drake, the jazz lounge, and finally the blues lounge. Admittedly, John Martyn's take on the blues is a solid offering. Vocally, his range is tested here and it performs well. This might be a song that gets disregarded for how out of place it seems, but it is not bad and while the genre rollercoaster ended here, it was a good end.

The album does not have the kind of interest that watching a train wreck would. This album sort of grows like a fungus that medically speaking probably is not harmful, but that a patient should treat because it sure does look as though it could be, but you know that it will have to come off eventually. The album is tea served in a bowl garnished with onion. It relies on being disheveled and unorthodox to make whatever point it is trying to make. The tea is fine, but then there is onion that follows it. Small sips are easy, but then sporadic jitters cause a spill. The album is a poorly delivered beverage, a hot beverage at that. The artist, PJ Harvey, one would argue is the torturer here and not the tortured. Perhaps this is an art album, the purpose of which is meant to be different and weird. If so, maybe in that context it works. PJ Harvey seems also to be more songwriter than she is singer. Her voice is apropos for her persona and music though, so credit must be given. Objectively, accusations of being a lazy musician would not stick, however the inverse might hold true in that she tries too hard, that the PJ Harvey we get is a misdirect of some kind. An exception to this criticism is that PJ Harvey sounds as though she is putting in the work, and this is a saving grace that provides much needed tolerance to listen to this album.

Jazz is a hard sell for this listener and there is rarely any middle ground between love and hate. The technical prowess required to play jazz has been explained to near death and while it can be appreciated, it does not equal enjoyment. Maybe this is not Hugh Masekela's most important work, but there are moments of nice surrounded by even more moments of insecurity. Jazz by and large seems like a trip into someone's head without your consent, a kidnapping perhaps? Without vested interest, or for a lot of the audience, musical understanding and the subsequent appreciation that comes with that, jazz can feel very foreign. Overall, today 04-12-22 was probably not a day for jazz so criticism is especially harsh for this reviewer. Hugh Masekela is identifiably talented, the seemingly chaotic arrangements e.g. "Maseru" that come back together toward the end is a feeling of overdue respite, but this is where the review gets negative in that enjoyment of music, particularly jazz, should not feel as though it were self-flaggelation with the hopes of earning a right to be a critic. The jazz genre sort of comes across this way because the formula is a bit more complicated, the time signatures ever-fluctuating, the self-aggrandizement of its members an inevitability. Profound respect for the talent and the skill required to put this together, but it does not equal enjoyment here.

Musical trends of the 80s certainly evolved going into the 90s, and Crowded House might be the best example of this softer rock, almost but not quite pop, leaning heavier into melodies and having more of that studio band feel where professionalism seemed to be more on display rather than the persona of the band. A collective memory of Crowded House probably could not name a rock star affiliated with this band. The short of it, is that Crowded House played it safe. Opinions, controversial messaging were easily dismissed and any notoriety to be gained by that simply was not. "Fall At Your Feet" retained some of that 80s ballad sound, but where this really felt different was that the songs seemed to stand by themselves, as if the band actually may not have mattered in the big picture. The industry had found a standardized sound that a label or music group could simply reproduce with whoever was on their roster at the time. While Crowded House may have been at the front of this, they may very well be the reason for the recognizability of that feeling. The album is easy to listen to, and it has some 90s nostalgic moments that write that goodbye letter to the 80s. Crowded House's "Woodface" album has aged really well and should have its place in the 90s rotation, should one have that.

This album manages to combine some of the best hard rock melodies and prolific yet subdued vocals. Where metal is high octane and delivered in shots in rapid succession, what we have here is high octane delivered in a steady IV drip. This type of rock is some of the best to work out to, fast enough to maintain a disciplined rhythm, slow enough to keep focused on what is being done. Hard enough to be motivated, and soft enough to sing along without attracting too much judgment. Granted, none of the aforementioned qualities a great album make. Outside of the context of a great day in the gym, "Dirt" is simply a good album. It is heavy, it is melodic, the vocals are solid, the ingredients of a solid album are all here and they pull it off. The album ages well, as the reviewer was still in grade school when this album came out in 1992. First impression guess would have placed it much later, and while the sound of the album could sound a bit dated in 21st century, there is reason to really complain here.

Metallica by 1999 already had quite an extensive discography, and perhaps even experienced a bit of a revival in the mid-90s going into the 2000s. It would make sense to release a live album or some kind of compilation at this point. Having been a thrash metal mainstay in the 80s, they survived the emergence of grunge and alternative to remain part of the popular culture. Metallica very much continues the tradition of rock stars even at forty years in existence. That said, S&M is a different take on a live album, compilation or Greatest Hits offering. It is very rare that a band will rework previous releases in this manner that presumably sees the light of day. Joining forces with the SF Philharmonic and a renowned film score composer, Michael Kamen, we get what could possibly be one of the better live album recordings in history. Metallica is not toned down here as they might even sound heavier, the orchestra and their recording in a theater, adds a tonal clarity absent the lingering reverb/echo of a stadium recording. Crowd noise is minimal and plays as part of the show. Drums are full and can be felt in one's chest, electric guitars are discernible from the string accompaniments, winds providing a new background on each song's 'fullness'. In a way, this album makes Metallica sound heavier, or at the least more complete. Listening to "Wherever I May Roam" compared to this live version, while maintaining its soul, seems to have found a body to go with it. This is the general feeling of this album and its songs, and that makes for a great live recording. There is not really a criticism to be made here, Hetfield is Hetfield, his vocals as consistent as ever. Musically, one can hear the intention and professionalism and this is a good thing for something as lofty as this type of partnership achieves. It is difficult to give this album five stars because it is a live album, having taken some of the more recognizable songs and placing together on the same album. On the other hand, the live album is just so well done that it argues that it stands by itself even after having been propped up with help from established hits, accompanied by an orchestra/conductor of renown. In terms of originality, this album has no predecessor in terms of everything being recomposed for literally no reason other than they can, and they did. Understandably, the album might offend purists. There is a near religious adherence to metal being metal for metal's sake, and this crossover might feel like an unholy union of sorts. Thrash metal, especially one like Metallica, thrives on a certain aesthetic of graphic, that it is in its own way a form of beautiful expression. Coupling that darker imagery with the beauty of an orchestra is an oil and water mixture that should not work, and for the purist S&M could be downright offensive. However, that stark separation presented here in a wonderfully arranged unison is why this will get a disputed top rating.

LL Cool J is probably one of the more underrated rappers in hiphop. He did not seem to make a grab at the headlines as much as his contemporaries did, but that does not seemed to have made a negative impact on his resume. Disclosure: First exposure to LL Cool J was his song with Boyz II Men "Hey Lover". Late night radio on the local Top 40 station for the win. "Hey Lover" is on another album though, but it serves as the blueprints for how this review approaches "Mama Said Knock You Out". Rap music and the wealth of catchy phrases and quips that make it into the modern lexicon are on full display here even thirty years later with "Don't call it a comeback!" on the title track. LL Cool J has an amazing voice with near crystal clear clarity. While the lyrics are not complicated, the delivery by LL Cool J is rhythmic and on time. This is a fairly great representation of what may have been hiphop's most appealing era where it was a balanced mix of fun and inviting with stories happy, sad, and socially aware. A key example of where this album remains socially aware is "Illegal Search" where LL Cool J chides the stereotypes by which the black community is essentially punished for being successful, or even just appearing to be. Crossed T's, dotted I's notwithstanding, he laments angrily the sort of gauntlet that they have to navigate just to verify that. Interestingly enough, the following track "The Power of God" contains a message of hope, an exhortation of sorts acknowledging the struggles and temptations of his early life but documenting his commitment to stay above those things, to maintain focus on the "power of God". Overall, the album is a great listen on par with his 90s contemporaries where messaging and storytelling take precedence on the whole over the single. These days are truly missed.

Progressive rock seems a bit controversial in spite of how populous the middle of the road is in terms of opinion. The reason, one thinks, is that people are divided in what they like or dislike about prog-rock as a whole. Some may love the frenetic, experimental and jazz-like chaos, where some might find the melodically mundane to be more their speed. Prog-rock definitely incorporates polar elements, and it is especially on display in this album. The title track opened with that frenetic and jazzy composition where it seemed like everyone just mashed together a bunch of solo efforts, but by Acts II, and III the band slowed things down and started to make a play to sensibilities here. Overall, the album is actually good even with their experimental disruptions since the latter seems applied with some moderation. To say this album is tolerable is a fair assessment, but so is saying that it is barely tolerable. Progressive rock is a definite veer off a well-beaten path and it works in some places and seems to not in others. This vague and indecisive journey of love and hate towards the genre is the likely prognosis.

For a band touted as highly as TVOTR, this medium being the first intersection makes this reviewer wonder just how divergent each path taken was. Whether or not TVOTR matches the hype is a question. This album from 2008, and it is certainly starts off as a great album, and yet it only finishes as a good one. TVOTR has a certain variety that is equal parts amazing and then a bit confounding in the way that experimental music tends to invoke. Comparisons to Radiohead do not seem apropos here, since TVOTR is way more appealing to this reviewer. There's a lot to appreciate about this album, but maybe a bit too much. The silver lining is that it is all subjectively good and one cannot help but to respect and appreciate that. Perhaps looking at this album as a fresh take on pop, funk, soul, hiphop, etc. within the same recording is the way to approach this, but it is certainly not surprising if it feels a bit much because of that. However, TVOTR does not seem to suffer an identity crisis and feels right at home with every song and that deserves a good deal of credit.

Usually, music groups or bands or whatever ABBA is do not force existential questions such as: Why is this album a thing? What was the point of this album? Perhaps it is a Swedish thing in an American world for this reviewer. Short and sweet, this album is not bad. "Dancing Queen" is an abstract promotion of girl power and solid independence, not a bad thing. "When I Kissed The Teacher" touches on the trope of student/teacher romances and with geometry being the course of study. "Dum Dum Diddle" by far the worst song here. ABBA seems have to commissioned the circus or a carnival for their clown music vibe, to where if there was a music video and ABBA was on a carousel, there would be no surprise. The title track is an instrumental, synth-heavy (go figure), minimal vocal offering that honestly was a nice reprieve and break in the monotony that seems to settle on the last half of the album. Overall, the album is not bad but it is not really good either. The reasoning for why this should be heard before the end of one's life is debatable but in all fairness, ABBA is certainly an original performance and their cultural impact is undeniable. If anything, an understanding of the 70s, or just the history of music, would support a reason for giving ABBA a listen. However, this is not an album that earns a repeat listen.

The instrumentation on this album is so good. The groove, the melodies, the music is absolutely fantastic. Moments of pure enjoyment and appreciation for how well the band plays each song, only to get interrupted by Tom Waits. Tom Waits is the villain in this album.

Hope abides in the first track, such beautiful vocals and a wonderfully composed track. If the album was entirely in this mood, the rank would have been higher, but alas, it was not. "Tusk" is an eccentric album. Even after two listens, the sentiments are hard to narrow down. Maybe that is a pro disguised as the con? At a risk of oversimplification, all of the female led tracks were great, and all of the guy led tracks were seemingly from another album.

Marley is arguably the only reggae legend society has been graced with. While "Natty Dread" lacked the personal impact of "Exodus" lyrically, the vibe and near limitless creativity of Marley to expand reggae's sound despite its recognizable tone and style remains evident here.

The chill factor here is undeniable, the hiphop grooves and melodies are nothing to scoff at here. In fact, they are very much a good thing on this album. Perfect rhythm to write to, or do office work. The real weakness here is the vocals. It is an interruption to the aforementioned enjoyable grooves. The lyrics do not take control as they should, nor do they add enough to the songs to justify their presence, and this is a problem for most of the album because if this is triphop, let the listener be on the trip. Notable exception is the final track "Glory Box" where tonally the singer and the music found their harmony. Lounge-sound, some well done crooning, was a well-taken trip. It is a shame that the rest of the album did not match this energy.

If it is not Bob Marley, the appeal to reggae is hard to feel. While the songs and styling are certainly reggae, this foray into pop puts a clear line of demarcation between pop reggae and reggae as a culture. The positive and well-earned critique is that UB40 does reggae really well as a song and musical style. The sounds and pop infused elements make for a different yet acceptable take. However, and perhaps this is the differentiator of what Bob Marley gave us vs. what other reggae artists have done is that there is a measure of heart and soul in the cultural significance of Bob Marley that we truthfully need to consider not holding other reggae artists accountable to. As objectively as possible, UB40's "Signing Off" is a good, well executed reggae pop album if the listener is into it for the sake of reggae... and pop. The sounds are clean and the groovy elements are all the signature expectations that one might have listening to reggae, but with more pop. For this review however, the premise is based on whether or not this album is a prerequisite to the afterlife, and that is difficult to really justify here.

At the risk of spoilers for the uninitiated, the overall sound is reminiscent of the late 90s U.S. Anti-Piracy commercials. The feelings through the first few tracks are mostly neutral, up until "Inner Flight" where it seems to sneak into a little of experimental groove, and not in a great way. This album though has some serious 90s nostalgia, from the drum loops to the overall feeling of the recording itself, but it is 1991 and seemingly well before this style started to dominate the airwaves of the 90s with popular singles from The Verve, Primitive Radio Gods, Butthole Surfers, etc. all can be traced to the feel of "Screamadelica". Sometimes, when a band tries to incorporate wide variety into a single album it tends to induce a feeling of disorganization rather than innovation. Primal Scream seems to balance this act rather well, and while there were certainly different moments, they did not feel out of place here. Surprisingly easy to listen to, the album deserves to be enjoyed in moments of winding down or during leisure activities. The ebbs and flows of the album are just a well-crafted balance of an overall intentional experience. While some songs may impact more than others, the album speaks for itself in its entirety rather than from a dominating single, and that is a good thing.

There is a lot of funk and groove on this album, with a few recognizable songs that have made their rotation throughout pop culture, notably in commercials. This album is fun, it is soulful, the Isley Brothers sound as though they are having fun and that sentiment is certainly expressed on that first listen. "Summer Breeze" features a significant guitar solo towards the end of the song that beautifully complements the soulfully jazzy tone. Musically, the album is complex and groovy and it is expertly melded with the vocals, from the lead to the background this is a master's craft in good sounding music. The recording is warm sounding yet each instrument has its distinct contribution while still complementing each other smoothly. A decent pair of speakers/headphones will duplicate this, and one should do so.

There are a few things in life in which the enjoyment of them is best managed in small doses. Jazz being one of them, but more importantly really good jazz. Jazz is a very full experience, testing the tolerance of the average consumer and this would explain that as music has changed and people delved more into easy and repetitive pop, jazz while respected for its complexity does not grow in popularity in the same proportion. This album however is the perfect small dose of really, really good jazz. Topping it off, is that while jazzy it takes cues from samba (as the title would suggest) giving the otherwise smooth jazz some spicy notes. The album goes down like a smooth whiskey with that little hit of burn as the spirit makes it way and warms the chest.

Not really sure why this album is necessary prior to leaving this particular plane of existence, until "Three Great Alabama Icons", when the complicated history of Alabama politics is summarized. It is a well spoken summary. Drive-By Truckers is however, quite unique, but this album has difficulty generating or maintaining interest outside of a historical perspective. Perhaps "A History of the South" was a little too forward, but "Southern Rock Opera" would earn more curious listeners. The latter is certainly true, but the album delivers the former. Albums that carry chips on the shoulder and get really preachy without really delving into making the message profound tend to fall flat. Falling flat is what happens more often than not here, but for reasons of nostalgia and some familiarity with Southern culture, there's no lack of moments for a 'Hell yeah' or 'Damn straight' or 'Roll Tide!' from the southern accents in the vocals, to the overall feel that this is a southern rock album. One could fully expect this to be the background music in an Alabama bar that everyone talks over until "Free Bird" comes on. That being said, without a genuine interest in the subject of the opera, the album is mediocre at best, nothing to be disappointed with or upset about. It is Southern Rock in its most recognized presentation, and it is nicely performed, but that is it --- the promise of a Southern Rock opera is made good on, but maybe it was a clever excuse for the album's demanding length at being a double-album.

Aside from "There She Goes" a song with multiple covers and surely a cherished track, the rest of the album is a solid experience, but nothing exhibits the staying power of the aforementioned. That does diminish the rest of the album, and perhaps unfairly. All in all, The La's is a band worth listening to and it should be counted as a shame that they were not able to continue.

This is a really nice album through and through, so groovy and the band really puts their voices into the performances. They also put some strange additions into "Runaway Child, Running Wild" that then upended what had been a solid, and positive experience. The wish that such a strange addition of a crying child made better sense than it did here is not granted, and it really puts an itch on one's head that no scratch will alleviate.

Please, killer whale? That is all this reviewer needed to confirm that this album is lost, befuddling, and an object lesson in being a waste of time. Perhaps this album is for musicians, or math-rockers inclined to scramble the brain for no reason other than they can. The pretentiousness that seems to ooze from this album and its compositions is infuriating to where the ears wanted to vomit. With all respect and seriousness, if a listener has to search for an album's intention or motivation, this qualifies as meaningless drivel. Art, such as the one seeming to be promoted here, is meant to challenge and inspire, hopefully to remain begrudgingly respected. This album is just crap, an inspiration for insult and dismissal. If that is the reaction aimed for, then spot on it is. If a band wants to experiment and play chords at random, then re-arrange all that into something that makes enough sense to get a record label to distribute their drivel, then this was it. Every member seems to do their own thing, and they are bad at it. The band is not without some semblance of talent, the whole thing just feels wasted, as though the mindless mashing of chords as a child was praised by over-supportive parents who then paid for a recording session that then was just trendy enough to be looked at as some sort of priceless abstract determined to be refreshingly different. Yes, it is different. Yes, it is not the usual fare one can expect from the so-called mainstream, but at least there we can hear music that is infuriating for better reasons for sounding too good and formulaic. This album is so bad it makes one want to defend pop and mainstream, and that is a bad thing.

Jeru the Damaja is a very talented rapper, the vocals and clarity are certainly noticeable. A little bit of digging through the history of hiphop, particularly in the early 90s, it certainly shows the maturity and shift of the genre, and this album helps put that into perspective. The times have changed, where such talent seems to have been set aside for singles and quick success rather than intentional hiphop albums by artists that truly care about their productions. This review may be biased through the lens of history, but the point remains. Jeru the Damaja, and this album are a credit to more intentional times where hiphop and rap could be seen as valuable contributions to music and a constructive society.

A personal commitment to this platform is maintaining an open-mind. That said, most non-English language music is going to have difficulty maintaining interest outside of the music and a bit of referencing to the why of this album becomes necessary. Key points: this album is the highest selling salsa album in history, the prerequisite of that being that it transcended its own sub-genre and called upon Latin music/people together. With this in mind, one can listen to this album knowing that while it is very much for Spanish-speaking nations, that it is indeed for nations, rather than its particular Spanish speaking country. Take this a little bit further, the 1978 release of this album seemingly coincides with the barrio experience within the United States, and in a way that makes the music relevant for this review too. Musically, the energy of salsa is distinctly of cultural significance that may escape a lot of listeners. However, for the adventurous or academic intentioned listener, the rhythm and horns demonstrate a certain professionalism that is easy to admire. Vocally, the singer is actually quite good and while the instruments certainly stand on their own, the lyrically melodic symbiotic relationship is a pleasure to pay attention to. While salsa is not the usual fare that would score high for this reviewer, the academic approach to understanding this album is a worthy time expenditure.

This album is quite basic, a fairly well-executed three-piece band of acoustic guitar and bass, with drums. The strings are not so tightly wound, one can hear the players move up and down the fret board, the strings vibrate from strong picking. "Blister in the Sun" being their ultimate hit on this album, it is the song that everyone has heard and can hum the melody without much dip into memory, but the chances are likely that one never knew it was by the Violent Femmes. The sound on this album, released in 1983, is reminiscent of the 50s-60s a la The Monkees, but this also seems to contain a little bit of that punk attitude with aggressive sounding vocals, aggressive instrumentations, etc. Distortion on the guitar is first noticed by "Add It Up" but it is a bit of an afterthought as the freneticism of the song makes mental callbacks to the 'bird' being the word.

The first memorable experience listening to Emmylou Harris was from her 2000 album "Red Dirt Girl" and this early offering from 1975 has all of the indicators that made "Red Dirt Girl" a good listen. "Boulder to Burmingham" has that gloried mix of hymn, some blues, with a tinge of solemn gospel. The type of combination that defined that softer-almost-folk type of country that this particular era became known for. Emmylou's vocals are remarkably clear, her lyrics enunciated without fault. Musically, the band is clearly tailored to her range. This is a well-done album from 1975, and at the risk of overstatement, Emmylou Harris should be considered a gift to this genre if not for her longevity. Where Dolly Parton brought out the glam and brightness of Nashville as one its best entertainers/singer/songwriter, Emmylou Harris has taken the more studious approach in her career, a sort of grounding to remind everyone that outside of the stage, there is a heart and soul to this music.

The album's title did poorly at managing expectations. Catchy, not a bad listen, could probably listen again out of boredom or in moments of mindless listening, but this did not deliver.

"So You Want to Be a Rock 'N' Roll Star" is an object lesson on self-deprecation, and it can be appreciated. The joke being that the truth is so unbelievable as to how non-sensical, and predatory success is. Maybe a shot at The Beatles? Conspiracy theories abound with gibberish in apparent reverse being heard at the conclusion of "C.T.A. - 102" when many religious movements started to suggest that musicians who sold their souls to the devil were implanting messages. Perhaps this was an early nod to that ridiculousness, but nonetheless here it is being discussed. A familiar melody can be heard on "Everybody's Been Burned" reminiscent of a certain spy-thriller from Ian Fleming that would make its movie debut around this time. This particular song is really enjoyable though, for up until this moment The Byrds were seemingly a bit one-dimensional in music's attempt to replicate the success of The Beatles. This track put The Byrds in a unique light, suggesting that they have their own way to connect with listeners rather than being the product of a musical assembly line. "Mind Gardens" would also break this perceived mold and offer an acoustic heavy, in-depth writing, that we would end up enjoying via Nick Drake. Overall, one should not sleep on this album. Power through the 60s cookie-cutter tracks and you will find some real gems here.

Not often on this list does an album incontrovertibly deserve to be on it regardless of personal feelings about the band, the music, etc. Rarer still, does the album earn all five stars in spite of that as well. At this time, there are two studio and one live album by Nirvana on 1001. This being their final studio album, it did ride on the success of "Nevermind" but demonstrated more importantly that Nirvana was not single happenstance, but rather a hot iron that had everyone scrambling to strike. While the success of "In Utero" was comparatively somewhat dwarfed by "Nevermind" any band with any dreams of success would be hard-pressed to achieve what "In Utero" did as it would likely be their best performing album of their career if they did. This album captures all of the heavy, the hard, the angst, and grunge elements of an era, an era not necessarily started by Nirvana, however nearly 30 years later, comparisons and root traces still find Nirvana as their common ancestor. Bands who have "Seattle-based" as part of their promotional material is undoubtedly drawing from the mythos of Nirvana. Subsequent or "new" music can all go back to what Nirvana did to rock music in the early 90s, when music collectively abandoned overnight the glam rock and heavily synth'd pop of the 80s. People found that Cobain's introspection asked people to look inward, ultimately for him which led to a tragic end. Casting a shadow on an entire city that became socially ubiquitous with a perception of depression, and mental fatigue. The album deserves 5-stars because it proved "Nevermind" was not a fluke, that Nirvana had indeed codified into the world of music how things were going to be.

Normally, singer-songwriter albums do not seem to fare well with this reviewer, but where Billy Bragg gets a pass is by making it melodious and sensical, and way less trapped in a coffee shop with no way out. The album may not capture one's heart but it will and should capture one's ear. Musically each song is a safe listen, a good listen, satisfactorily inviting. If the listener does not like it, it is okay, the album still seems to genuinely wish for you the best of the day. Being mid-80s at release, one can still hear the remnant of 70s light rock but there is something quite different in the imagery that the songs provoke. The image and feeling is very much not the 70s, and it certainly is not the pop renaissance of the decade either. If anything, this album is again, a welcoming respite and perhaps a glimpse of what 1980s singing-songwriting could have looked like had the decade not sold itself out to electronically produced instrumentation.

Offerings from Beastie Boys are consistent, their sound unique, and they are remarkably groovy. Beastie Boys as a rap artist is not always the easiest to reconcile and this album is no exception because of how different it is from hiphop. "Looking Down The Barrel Of A Gun" is a gritty, prescient 'djent' song with a more subdued hype than "Sabotage". This album is a testament to their ability to evolve and yet keep their soul.

In the context of 1001, this album justifies its inclusion in a few ways, the most obvious being Carole King. It would seem that in recent history, a female solo artist that is not confined to the pop genre is a rare happenstance. A quick thought of notables would include Winehouse, pre-pop Lady Gaga, and current singer Adele. Before either of these talents, Carole King was doing it and doing it well. While not as raspy as Adele, and perhaps not as consistent as Winehouse, Carole King's presence along with her vocal talent make her contribution of "Tapestry" a very strong, very enjoyed experience.

Album titles that tend to over-promise and under-deliver on content certainly impacts the rating here. Ecstatic, ecstasy, are failed promises here. Perhaps if on ecstasy the experience would come through, but alas, there is none. Musically, their talent is undeniable and the objective part of this review is going endorse them as a very well executed band. The album though is not spectacular, it is just a good album. Not necessarily one that a listener would rave over, and not necessarily one that a listener would decry as being terrible. It is that happy medium where a half-star capability would be nice. The album is a 2.5, but it is good enough to where rounding upwards is appropriate.

Solid melodies, limited vocals, this plays mainly as an instrumental album and it is great. Post-rockers should take a note from this album, and quit trying to overcomplicate their music with forced chaotic bits, anti-melodies, etc. Beautiful is not quite the word to describe how this album plays, but there are moments where it is. The intelligence behind the compositions are what really stand out though, the intention of each track disposes any ambiguity, each track seeming to carry with it some "sense" of sense. What the album accomplishes at the cost of complexity, it makes up for in feeling. The rhythms and melodies at times may sound basic, but they managed well in their repetitive cycle, keeping songs feeling progressive rather than stagnate. Usually, songs and music without a feeling of purpose tend to get lost here and the rating inevitably goes down because of that. The same does happen here to a degree, but where this album succeeds for this review is that the question of 'Why?' is more introspective and quizzical rather than a frustrating disappointment.

Like most things in life, the Law of Diminishing Returns tends to show itself eventually, but on some quicker than others. There is no exception here, a very strong first track garners interest, but all subsequent ones seem to play it safe in some kind of holding pattern. Granted, this is not to presume that anything written here would solve such an experience but a solid start quickly devolves into boredom to where maybe thirteen tracks would have done better with nine or ten. The album is a good album, but it starts out with indications of being great. At the time of this review, Kacey Musgraves is a bona fide star in both pop and country, so along comes expectation that this 2018 album would explain her rise. It does, and perhaps since this 1001 project is more a curation of how things age, the inclusion of this album is not heavily contested but it is not without some questioning. However, what this speaks for the future is up for guesses because what Kacey Musgraves did here has been preceded by only a few others and for that she certainly deserves the praise. Overall, Kacey Musgraves is talented and she sounds great. Her music is easy to listen to and she deserves every accolade she has received for her contributions to music. The question is whether or not this was an album to hear before disembarking this life.

The first ever listen on this album led to a need for a second ever go-around. For this reviewer's purpose, that is a good thing. There is not much about this album that is spectacular, or that stands out other than a bit of a 'whiplash' effect from high energy punk 'wannabes' to rolling in the blues. Somehow, this works and that makes the album fun and that at least for this experience, earns its grade for being a surprise. Most people will recognize "Alright" through commercials, retail radio, etc., but the album overall maintains interest throughout, so much so that there will be a third listen-through and perhaps a new favorite has been discovered.

Incredible, simplistic, without the usual pretentiousness that seems to accompany what is very much a sound associated with hipsters. The music is not so different or unique or ground-breaking by any means, but this is a well done album. The songs hit real nicely, the lead vocal with that beautiful mix of raspy and clear, it is hard not to just simply enjoy this album and feel content that for 50 minutes there was nothing to really regret.

The instrumentation on this album is so good. The groove, the melodies, the music is absolutely fantastic. Moments of pure enjoyment and appreciation for how well the band plays each song, only to get interrupted by Tom Waits. Tom Waits is the villain in this album.

Having previously experienced the amazing "Roots" album, "Arise" is a near perfect example of looking back in time and seeing how a band can get better. The album is a bit rough with the band's maturity still growing, lacking the cohesively chaotic enjoyment of "Roots" but one can still hear the elements that would surely meld together years later. "Arise" is definitely the sound of a band that grew from the 80s and evolving with the 90s. The sound is the one of kids in a garage just letting it all go, except there is a noticeable discipline that can be heard and for that alone, this album is a testament to the metal genre. Overall, this is not "Roots" so there is missing a certain innovation and use of creative outlets that impacted this review's first impression, but "Arise" succeeds as a solid metal album. Guitars are full of sound rather than sounding hollow questioning whether or not a bass player exists, the percussion is disciplined, the vocals gritty yet musically sensical. This is metal as it should be, melodically intense promoting an aggressive sense of calm.

Cut to the chase, there was no high hopes for this album to be anything but regretful given how disdainful the feelings are toward The Smiths, and their punk adjacent aimlessness that just serves as a reason to be frustrated at nothing. Morrissey, like any solo artist that transformed their identity into a single moniker, is a pretentious and narcissistic foray into what honestly is a staple in the world of entertainment. Within this context, any dislike of the man is easily understood. Thing is, "Vauxhall and I" plays rather nicely in the background. If it was not Morrissey, maybe the disdain would be non-existent but there is just a certain sense of unforgivable that hangs ominously over his contribution to whatever music is supposed to be. However, for the sake of objectivity and the constant reminder that this list is predicated on the opinion that he should be heard before leaving this plane, there is a stunning lack of regret in this play-through. While this review stays unconvinced, this album is what it is and perhaps the disdain allows for more meaningful appreciation elsewhere.

It is 2022, Neil Young managed to make the news as though the world was going to care about his catalog being available on Spotify. This album's unavailability makes that regrettable as far as convenience regarding this list of 1001, but for whether or not the world cannot move on without Neil Young's music being available digitally is a rather far fetched position, but not for him apparently. Perhaps someone told him a long time ago that he is the best musician, song-writer, to ever grace the music scene. He has obviously believed this about himself. Through the aforementioned lens, there are pre-judgments against the man that skew the acceptance of his music. There is history with CSN and his disruption of the trio, the familial discord that he seems to believe is a disservice to fans (it is) but it is this same out of touch with reality approach to himself that overshadows his talent, and by extension is out of touch with the consumer. Normally this would not be a problem, but Young does try to connect through activism and use of his platform. This album could be a good one. It is an easy listen, the songs are nice and Neil Young does have talent. His ability to achieve what he has is a testament to that, and this review will not deny him that. Where this album fails to connect is the historical pretentiousness of Neil Young, perhaps it was the pursuit of success and the brutal acquisition of it that paints the picture. Thing is, it is the opinion of this review that this album does not meet even minimally the requirement before death. We love our entertainers lest they become too self-important, and Neil Young has become the latter.

Queen of Soul, indeed. Her effort into her recordings/performances are such that she's seemingly fearless. She hits her notes to the maximum that she can, as though if she tried any harder she would miss it. This tenacity and passion does come through in listening to her sing and there is so much to respect here. "People Get Ready" is an old gospel favorite, heard time and again with multiple covers, spun for the good news. Aretha Franklin's contribution stand the test of time, and this is a clear candidate for 1001.

The 1980's really had a distinct sound, the sound of synth. The noticeable echo/reverb of lead vocals, the question of which instruments were real, which ones were not? Such a conflict of a decade musically. The people that grew up as children in the 80s have fond memories of the decade as more of a nostalgic thing, but if the argument is that the 80s should be taken seriously, the sentiment may change quite a bit as the line from nostalgic and simple is very thin between embarrassing and glad-its-over. "Steve McQueen" however seems to retain some actual band members playing actual instruments or at least sound like they are. Sure, the synth is ever-present, but serving as a backdrop to acoustic guitar strums, seemingly real sounding drums, and a bass. As the album progresses, this promise seems to dissipate and start to sound mostly electronic. The undeniably clean, and super-polished sound of the decade seeps through and reminders of why this decade remains difficult to take seriously come in. Objectively, the vocals are actually pretty great, the structure of the songs are very vanilla yet executed well, but maybe a little too well. If there is anything the 80s synth-pop movement tended to lack as history looks back on it, is authenticity. The technological revolution that permeated entertainment made artificiality the thing to do, but humans thankfully grew out of that phase and went back to something a bit more raw, and unpolished.

If one enjoys the sound of country music at a festive Texas cantina, or small-town steakhouse then this album is the epitome of that feeling. Dwight Yoakam incorporates a small amount of Tejano elements to round out the album's title. Country can feel country, or it can feel like a party where Coors and/or Bud Light are the drinks of choice. This album is more like the latter, where one can be transported to a location where hats with fish hooks, acid-washed jeans and no sign of a car in the lot, all trucks. This is not quite redneck country but they certainly are not far off. Where Dwight Yoakam earns respect though is that he is not pop country, although a counterpoint is that he could be responsible for it (or Garth, take your pick). Songs about tractors, beers, and women of ill-repute are lacking here, instead we do have more introspective story-telling reminiscent of outlaw country, but with all the twang and yee-haw feels of modern country. Country is not the usual fare for this listener, but Dwight Yoakam's modesty in performing this album sheds a disappointing light on modern (2022) country where artists are maybe a little too intentionally country to the point of imitation. Dwight Yoakam is a genuine country musician or a great persona, either way the feel good nature of the album resonates with the laid back yet meaningful life of what presumably is a country boy.

Eccentric, weird, bold, innovative, a lot of things that Fiona Apple is apparently known to aspire to and seemingly fail upwards repeatedly. Fiona Apple seems to get in her own way, the first track "I Want You To Love Me" is a fine song, she sings with earnest, the music is groovy and rhythmic, but then she engages in a weird squealing scat-like ad libbing that is indistinguishable from the rest of the song. Weird is not always wrong, but it is wrong here, but at least Shameika was right. "Fetch the Bolt Cutters", the title track, falls prey to the same weird way of ending a song. A mix of dog barks and awkwardly rhythmic heavy breathing, as though perhaps we were hearing a metaphor for intimate activities? Maybe that's Fiona Apple's issue, she does not know how to end a song in a way that makes sense. That is a bit of the rub here. The songs here are groovy and fun, her choruses and compositions give so much to make the album really, near incredibly enjoyable. A few songs later, there is not much new to add other than Fiona Apple still cannot end a song without doing something weird. That said, there are no regrets in listening to this album, just some confusion as to motivation.

Groovy album, the kind of expectations one is accustomed to when listening to Led Zeppelin. This is the album that gave us "Kashmir" but this album is also not I, II, III, and IV. That tetralogy stands by itself. "Physical Graffiti" may not have been a departure from that, but the title and change in design would suggest that maybe it was. The music did not seem to hit as hard, perhaps a victim of the remaster or a listen with Sonos instead of headphones. After the tetralogy, this review tends to see LZ's contribution to 1001 as being very obvious, that perhaps any of their catalog beyond that is superfluous, and to give 997 albums a chance. Objectively, the album is Led Zeppelin and there is not much more that can be said about it. In a way that is a testament to their consistency, but also a sign that their star, while still amazingly bright, started to show that slow burn out.

Judging an album by the cover, the expectation here is that the listener is either treated to with a well done or cursed with a horribly produced backwoods amalgamation of noise. Au contraire, instead the album opens with a beautifully rhythmic rock and roll sound with "In It For The Money" the title track. The tone has been set, and this is very much a warm welcome. "Richard III" carries on the warm welcome with an energetic yet melodic offering. A few songs in, the inspirations start to come through, notably things that sound like something the Rolling Stones would do. More into the contemporary comparisons, there's a bit of Oasis as well. This album is a bit of a surprise because while these inspirations can be obvious, Supergrass maintains an identity to where the listener can believe they are listening to a contemporary rather than a type-cast-by-genre record label band designed to imitate. The album is a bit heavier than the aforementioned, but that may be to how their songs are mixed. The instruments are balanced nicely, the band has a beautiful grasp of melody and it plays so well. This is in somewhat of a contrast to their "I Should Coco" album (which received 4 stars) where it took a few listens to really narrow that score because of how long it took to become familiar. The band was a bit more diverse in their sound and music. This album on a single listen is markedly better even with a little better predictability, and more so for lack of a runaway hit single as recognizable as "Alright" from their previous release. The focus is split evenly on the album as a whole, without a mega hit to weigh against. Without that distraction, an objective listen is easier to do. This is a really solid album, and it is these now seemingly obscure finds that make 1001 such a great thing to experience. "It's Not Me" has a beautiful acoustic guitar, backed by sound effects reminiscent of Doctor Who, but with an anthemic near ballad-worthy chorus.

Tambourines, xylophone, a groovy guitar solo, piano, and all in the first track! Ah, yes and commentary of Johnson's "Great Society" which at the time with all of its popularity was not without its detractors. The education system did not necessarily veer from the industrial revolution model from which it was built, and much of the education turned into testing and score based models, becoming the new discrimination. Why is this album on 1001? The answer of course is purely subjective in this now massive group project, but the answer here that justifies its place on the list is the obvious social contribution given the year it was released. Post-Kennedy and pre-Vietnam, this band was deep in the socially aggressive change of the Civil Rights Era, a massive political transformation that included Equal Rights, Voting Rights, etc. all things that at the time and still today have had various opinions as to whether good or bad. While the lot of us in the time of 1001 have the gift of history to make such determinations, it is important to hear the perspectives of the people who were there, and this album is a bit on the nose with it in "Hungry Freaks, Daddy". Musically, the album is token 60s, but the recording available on Spotify is really good, still having a vintage sound but with a modern clarity. The compositions are complex and fun, while the lyrics are seemingly humorous and just sort of out there. Overall, this album has significant history along with The Mothers Of Invention and Frank Zappa, and for that reason(s) an educational listen is worth the time spent.

Generally, the electro-pop of the 80s does not bode well for this listener. New Order is no exception, and with a little research come to find out that this is a rebranded Joy Division, which has not also scored well with this reviewer. The 1980s was a seemingly complicated decade for music. The electronic takeover started to become the impact of consumerism in the music industry where the perfection that could be achieved using electronics/synths was the way that music would be heading, taking the manual work out of production. This certainly provided a specific sound that only the 80s would have, the sound of superficiality. The brain knows when music is a little too good, and the brain senses the impostor. Were this not true, we may still be inundated with this sound today, but thankfully it seems we found a balance that leaves a bit of humanity in our work again. This negative nostalgia does not work in much favor for Joy Div... New Order. Tragedy reasons aside, the lessons of 1001 that could be learned by a lot of the electro-pop genre prevalent in the 80s involve things that people should be grateful is no longer the prevailing style today. Dance and/or electro-pop, whatever this is called should be okay in small doses, but that may be asking too much still. Overall, New Order demonstrates a significant growth from their Joy Division roots to where their music is nowhere near as infuriating in 1989 as it was in 1979. This is a solid 80s album (good and bad), with all the technology of the time at their disposal (good and bad), rhythms and melodies are genre-defining and for that the nostalgia does work in their favor, even if just a little bit.

Longevity is seemingly rare, but Aerosmith will not let you see that. Aerosmith has remained one of the most consistent rock bands in what is now two different centuries, a feat shared by only a handful of their contemporaries. Getting their start in the 70s, staying relevant in the late 80s when rock was being bullied by electronic pop and chic consumerism, to hitting the charts yet again in the late 90s, Aerosmith may not be the best rock band ever but they certainly have been the most present. 1989's "Pump" is not an exceptional album until the fact that it was 1989 sets in as a reality. This turn of the decade saw a lot of significant changes in music, where society was beginning to swear off synth-pop and bands like Aerosmith laid some groundwork to kick off some of the 90s prominent bands (Alice In Chains, e.g.). The album rocks well as any Aerosmith album will. Steven Tyler's wailing vocals are as strong as ever, and the music will have you humming or tapping your feet as a good rock album should.

Prince definitely made good on the comparisons to Michael Jackson. He was certainly different enough to stand out on his own, which is really significant given just how much of a mega star Michael Jackson was. Prince is going to have quite the edge though as far as musicianship goes, and to a fault because the opinion of this review is that he held himself back in favor of a more complete composition. "Purple Rain" starts with "Let's Go Crazy", a funky start with a remarkable guitar solo by Prince to wrap it up. Prince's guitar playing is seemingly ignored, and while there is reason to view him more broadly than that, it just seems rare that he is lauded for that capability outside of people that had opportunity to witness him play. The songs on "Purple Rain" do feature his electric skills quite a bit ("When Doves Cry" has a fine opening), but the featuring of it is held back somehow until we get to the title track "Purple Rain" where the song is capped off by an incredible solo. The song leaves the listener with a desire for more of that passion from the guitar. Prince himself, is a showman/entertainer with a very disciplined and bridled energy, "Darling Nikki" is an example of this where his vocal range is explored a la Steven Tyler-esque screams, and perhaps this same discipline is what creates Prince's undeniable balance. Musically, for the 1980s, Prince seemed to rely on actual instruments as well as synthesizers. The drums are heavily electronic, auto-tune is plenty, all of the token sounds of the decade are present here. What makes this appreciable is that we can hear the real instruments too, and much of that is to Prince's credit for playing the guitar. The thing is, we only get pieces of that since his songs tend to phase in and out of the electronics and the real ones. The beat and primary melodies are certainly synthesized, and are then layered by actual instruments. A person can hear when it is all electronic, and when it is not. Not sure if that is genius, or just a product of the decade but the point here is that Prince did a way better job as a pop-rock artist using these tools than any of his contemporaries in the pop genre. If there is to be a complaint, it is when a synth solo is used in place of featuring Prince's prowess at guitar, the example being on "When Doves Cry" when the synth solo should have been him on the guitar. The sound of synth invokes the feeling of having sold out, but then the disciplined balance of Prince comes to mind and somehow even this most egregious error is somehow forgiven. Overall, while it may take repeated listens for armchair recording engineers to hear it, Prince's vision and his intentionality in producing this album becomes evident. Any band can take their standard 3-piece and make it be the forefront of their production, but not Prince. He did it differently, and while it may not make everyone happy, the thing is that he did it remarkably well. In a way it is though he gave us strong guitar moments just so we could understand that he did not need to, that he could compose beyond that, perhaps beyond himself.

The album is a safe album from the 60s, part of the rise of the British rock scene. It is enticing to view The Kinks in the same lens of every 60s band to come out of Great Britain, but there is a debate to whether that is a lazy perspective or just a boring fact of the matter. This review leans toward the latter. Credit where it is due, The Kinks enjoy a sense of longevity that the Stones enjoy, and that is saying something. The Kinks certainly earned their spot on 1001, if only just for their single "Waterloo Sunset". It is a beautiful song, and gives this album a sense of being something special, and it is.

This album starts off strong, unique, and pleasantly surprising. High energy vocals, beats and melodies consistent with the 1960s --- a real solid effort at slightly above a half hour total listen time. That is until the final track at 18:58 of those minutes. Nineteen minutes of artistic expression that would have fared better on a B-sides, however in all fairness, that may not have been an option. The final note on this album ending with a 18:58 track is sour. Half of the album is tied up into this experimental, at times primal, and useless composed (if that) amalgamation of sounds that ended as unsatisfactorily as it began.

This is an example of one of life's biggest regrets. This album is complete trash, an object lesson on how to recognize such trash, and an optimistic silver lining that the things which are beautiful are made so much more obvious when juxtaposed with this pile of refuse. It is no secret that Kid Rock is controversial, and for the most part such controversy is okay, but what is not okay is sucking at it.

The "Nebraska" album will always serve as the litmus test for what Springsteen is capable of delivering and why this particular review forewarns that "The Rising" is mostly negative. Teetering on the edge of Americana, rock and folk, this is where Springsteen shines the most and this album "The Rising" misses that mark. The angsty and relatable Springsteen was clearly gone in 2002, and that's sad. His great tale in "Nebraska" was in being an American story, whether it was political discourse or sentimental short stories, he embodied American musicianship for pop-rock scene probably in the same influential way that Aaron Copland's "Appalachian Spring" put American ballet/orchestral contributions on the classical radar. Granted, 2002's album was probably being written and produced in late 90s through 2001, when America experienced significant change due to 9/11 attacks on NYC. Political opportunists more concerned with power grabs and emotional appeals created an adversarial political environment that we still feel two decades later. Perhaps this is what overshadows the pop-positivity of this album, giving Springsteen a new America to sing about. Not all is lost though, the song "Paradise" harkens back to the pensive gravitas of his earlier works, concluding with "My City of Ruins".

George Michael was certainly a bigger success as a solo artist. As an entertainer, he puts in the effort and it yields an authenticity to his produced work on this album. Anthemic hits like "Freedom!" find a way to fit in tone of this album. Albeit less sexy than his previous solo efforts, his draw in comparison to contemporaries like Sting, Prince, and Michael Jackson is worthy of note. This is a great pop album, and certainly shows the subtle change from 80s reliance on synth pop back to real instruments. A change for the better, and also a bit of a foresight into what would later inspire the sound behind the pop sensation Ace of Bass. "Soul Free" includes that aggressive beat, supported by piano and flute, a mix that would feature quite a bit into early 90s pop.

"Isi" the opening track has that feel as if we were watching a collage of sincere moments of a Doctor Who just prior to the Doctor's regeneration. Space sounds as we have come to musically interpret are prevalent, but what is also there is a method to the seeming madness. Piano chords, mild beats, and a comprehensible melody give this album from 1975 a certain sense of mystery. Obviously, this pre-dates post-rock quite a bit but the listener can note that NEU! very much layers their tracks in that progressive way reminiscent of Ravel's "Boléro" with a repeated cadence and melody that is slowly added to with different sounds/instruments as it goes along. At a meager six tracks totaling 42 minutes, this review can afford to be a bit more comprehensive. The more surprising aspect of this album is how beautiful the piano is played on this album. Pianos have the ability for their players to impart a more diverse selection of mood, whether it be the high energy of a rock band piano, or in this case the foundational yet gentle almost-an-afterthought the listener can get here. While these are not always negatives, experimental music like this tends to get diminished when vocals get included. Starting with the third track, we get a heavy on the reverb recitation of verses, however NEU! managed to avoid a critical mistake of letting that be the song, instead using vocals as an accompaniment. The second half of the album increases in energy rather substantially, as if we entered into a punk rock phase back to Earth. Believe it or not, this is a sort of shock that after three beautifully subdued tracks, that a listener may actually find to be rather welcoming. "Hero" is very much a punk rock song, and a good one as it balances the pointless chaotic with the melodic prowess NEU! clearly exhibited in the three tracks prior... because "your only friend is music till your dying day." The final two tracks are a little more of the same, higher energy punk-rock with more comprehensive melodies, mixed with a little bit of experimental-isms, that for the most part yield an incredibly satisfying six track experience.

This is a quite a different experience from "Murder Ballads" where Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds received an apropos rating of 1. Nick Cave is clearly a creative singer/song-writer and there is a place to respect what he brings to music regardless if one likes it or not. However, in the context of 1001, he does not really seem so much a prerequisite for death. The album is subdued, as is Nick Cave. This is a beautiful album just a few tracks in, lacking the aimlessness of other singer/song-writer types that usually end up with the dreaded "1" score. "There Is A Kingdom" has a Pink Floyd-vibe that earns significant appreciation. The chorus and the noticeable hooks are well done here, such a great song. Overall, still not a fan of Nick Cave and this BS.

Should the listener find themselves on the Deluxe Edition of this album, the option to stop listening to the main tracks do exist about halfway through, unless of course Mudhoney is just so much the jam that a two-hour+ session of Mudhoney is appropriate. Alas, it was not. Mudhoney certainly possessed a progressive sound for an album produced in the late 80s. In a time where glam metal, and synth-pop-rock were the chosen poisons, this album was none of that and for that reason alone, the credit afforded this album as a prerequisite to death is earned. The album is a glimpse into the future, and such things are the real gems in this 1001 project. Mudhoney is a bit of a grinding listen, they really do not have a particularly spectacular quality that stands out thirty years later, but if the listener was alive in 1988, and listened through the evolution of that decade through the 90s when everything shifted back to humans making music, the appreciation for what Mudhoney did decidedly grows. If anything, enjoy this album as a positive testament to the future and a forgivable element of music's most asinine decade.

A conversation with friends summed up the review for this album. Coltrane is an amazing musician, but he was uninhibited and while that has its place in jazz, it does not always hold a place with audiences. His best work was when he was part of something bigger. This album is an example of Coltrane playing with difficulty for the sake of it, and even at a paltry thirty minutes is a bit much in one sitting.

BB King is an undeniable great, and this live album is a major endorsement of his ability to entertain on top of what had already been his established success with recordings. Excellent break from the studio produced offerings, "Live at The Regal" is a beautifully exciting capture of BB King in his element, the fun he is having is near palpable and the envy that this is an experience never to be had again in this life is real.

80s rock and roll marked a massive deviation from the 70s. The influence of disco and warm recordings gave way to a resurgence of blues and stadium feels. Def Leppard was not an exception here, borrowing the wailing vocals of Led Zeppelin and the commanding guitars of Jimmy Page, Def Leppard changed it up and defined the 80s sound of rock by using background vocals to sing the choruses, ushering what would most certainly be the theme of 1980s metal, and that is writing what essentially is an anthem. Songs that could be sung for a crowd, by the crowd. "Rock of Ages", "Photograph", both songs create that feel of not just a hit single, but a rallying cry of sorts, something that as fans of Def Leppard, brought people together. This was the strangely optimistic theme of the decade and the band did it well. Overall the album is heavy when it needs to be, and expressive of the decade it was recorded where a new cool was being formed, and for that it earns its place in 1001.

Not incredibly into this kind of music, but there is a pretty good exception to be made here. The music is not new, but it sounds new. "Paper Planes" is a catchy tune and there is nothing to be ashamed of in liking it despite the quirkiness of the rest of the album. If anything, people should always give quirky a shot, and it is safe to say that "Kala" was the shot worth taking. The album will not change your life, and the impact on older generations of music lovers will vary, but for an album produced in 2007 to hold court in 2022 is pretty incredible for today, in hindsight the album was a prescient preview to the pop genre and trap amalgamation of the latter '10s and into the '20s.

The Who as a band sort of went through an identity change with songs like "Pinball Wizard" and "Baba O'Riley", "Who Are You?" basically their most recognizable hits. While this is not an anomaly, it does like most others draw attention away from what should not be obscure elements of their earliest offerings. This album, released in 1967, is certainly an earlier version of the band that was more in line with their British cohorts at the time. Less musical aggression but with an aggressive persona, The Who managed to come off as being loud and harder than their contemporaries while actually not. This album is a bit more in touch with that part of their late 60s identity, however it could be surmised that this album is a parody of their predicament as rising stars fitting the popular bill of the time instead of making their own music. Fame and popularity at this stage of their career easily would have provided the means for them to create the songs that would define them in the 1970s, and give them the clean break from The Beatles and The Rolling Stones that today we can look at as being entirely necessary for their success. That being said, this is a great 60s genre album. The Who are very polished (find the non-mono recording if you can) and seemingly contained. While this is not who they are, hearing them at their foundational stages is a sensical and agreeable inclusion for 1001.

S&G had a real gift for the melodic, and this album shows. Historically though, behind the scenes this apparently was a tough recording for the duo leading to their first breakup. This album is really good, "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" is an undeniably well-written song that carries itself to tune of being timeless. The only real let downs (if can be called that) were "So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright" and "Why Don't You Write Me?" as they were neither good or bad, sort of middle of the road in comparison to the rest of the album. S&G for all their drama, is probably correctly estimated in how well they were able to create with each other, with a slight edge to Paul Simon's successes as a solo artist. Still, there is to be said that in spite of the tension, S&G were amazing. The tension was probably that price to pay, though.

Gone way too soon, Nick Drake had a well-balanced talent that most singer-songwriters do not. He was a musician who knew how to put words to music, and equally put music to words. Many singer-songwriters tend to lean heavily in either direction relying on musicians to put music to mindless drivel (e.g. Suzanne Vega) or putting less than on par words on to otherwise really great music (e.g. Tom Waits). Nick Drake does so well at both, that the listener wants to hear both giving neither favor over the other, hard-pressed to find fault with the lyricist and musician. Nick Drake was truly special and his talent is sorely missed.

So there is a period of time where Morrissey's popularity makes sense, and maybe 1992 was it. His vocals remain reminiscent of the 80s, singing from the top of the mouth rather than from the throat or gut, and musically the album is melodically pleasing. It would be objective to say that this album is good and worth listening to, except that the stench of Morrissey's musical messiah complex still manages to linger. If the listener can compartmentalize Morrissey from his own work on this album, one should have fun with it.

Pink Floyd stands by themselves with nearly every album they have. Their take on experimentalism in music as well as their epic-saga style of writing and composition is a major point of their success where for others that tried this, failed to really stick the landing. The band manages to tell a complete story but keep the music interesting without the overbearing repetitiveness that experimentalists tried to do. Where "The Wall" has a prolonged theme with political commentaries, or where "Dark Side of the Moon" has a spatial element, this album tends to feel a bit more personal as each song title is a platitude to the listener. In a way, we are being sung either to or towards. The slow disco-esque "Have a Cigar" starts with a familiarizing hook and melody, and then takes a major turn into something else. The band is satirizing their success, grappling with whether or not they are the makers of their own success, or if they are just a product of The Machine. As mentioned, the album feels personal and it is good for doing so.

Linkin Park's first album remains their absolute best, and it set a great journey for the subsequent albums as well as the groundwork for their evolution into being a softer band. In a way, listeners got to see a band grow mature from the young and hype-capable to the older and more intentional. Hybrid Theory came at a time when metal/rapcore fatigue started to set in with bands like POD and Limp Bizkit. While with POD, clean lyrics and meaningful messaging were broad in their appeal, their over-exposure up and to their sophomore album with Atlantic wore out the original audience reasonably quickly. Limp Bizkit, even at the height of their popularity, remained 18+ with narrower demographic appeal with a push towards douchebags being loud, giving ballcaps a bad name, to some just weird imagery in their songs. Between all that, Hybrid Theory is released and scratches a certain itch that had been growing. There was a bit of a pendulum swing or crises of identity with listeners in the early aughts between emo and hardcore, two extremes that sort of defined the bipolar nature of 17-19 year olds at the time. Hybrid Theory managed to catch both the aggression and angst giving the people stuck in the middle a stable ground of sorts, which if honesty is the best policy, a very needed element for this crowd. Chester's vocals are a clean scream with lyrics easily understood, and Mike Shinoda's rap contributions are equally clear with a clean delivery. This combination, while not necessarily original was a better marriage between the rock and rap genres than their contemporaries. Musically, the band hit hard where it needed to, and it carefully matched lyrics with its energy. Well-rounded, well-sung, well-rapped, well-played, Hybrid Theory changed the game quite a bit.

This is a good and fun album even if Offspring sounds like a bunch of frat boys decided to yell song lyrics in unison. The music is aggressive and most of all the album is fun, reminiscent of home team chants at a game. However, the songs resolve well and the album is a fairly well done complete experience. The album to sound this young and collegiate and pull it off indicates a measurable talent, and for that the album deserves a lot of respect along with the aforementioned. Notable exceptions, the weird narrator and 10+ minute encore track.

This album is incredible, made even more so by how much the Western genre is largely forgotten under the large umbrella of Country. Songs that tell a story, songs with strong melodies, even if repetitive at times, make this an easy listen. Yes, this is the Western in Country & Western, and not the Country. This distinct difference has fallen out of popularity but what is now considered old Country, particularly Outlaw, seems to be hanging on with artists like Sturgill Simpson. Either way, this is probably an educational listen for so many people and for that reason its inclusion on 1001 is very important. An added bonus is getting to listen to this in stereo, which makes for reconciling hearing something from 1959 sound so good an easy task for the mind.

At first the idea might be that this is a Country album, and a really good one with sweet melodies, great vocals, and more than six or seven words per song. Progressing through, the Country vibe turns into something a bit different as electronic elements start to incorporate in particular on "No Other". The disco-minded 70s start to seep in with the groovy keyboards, the funky bass licks, as well as an electric guitar solo. When "Strength of Strings" is reached, we have a bit of a "Knights in White Satin" moment where a strange emotional gravity pulls at the listener. Overall, what this album does really well, what Gene Clark does really well, is provide a listening experience with a good resolve. Sure, the genre of this album is difficult to pin because of a few songs, namely the first two tracks, where country, folk, or Americana seem to be the path forward, but the evolution from those to the softer rock melodies, the album begins to make a case for standing on its own even perhaps as a 70s rock album. This album earned a few listen throughs, and each time the album just seemed better, making this album have zero regrettable factors. The enjoyability seems slept on, as Gene Clark was an unknown for this reviewer till this listen. Sure we can hear contemporary styles (Neil Young, The Moody Blues, etc.) but where Gene Clark's album is surprising is that it did not stand out as much as some of the other well-known acts of the 70s, and this album makes that a bit of a crying shame.

It is very well that people who like ABBA can do so and be happy. It is also very well that people who hate ABBA can do so and be happy. This review is the latter. The dislike for ABBA does not leave much room for objectivity but this will try. The available recording on streaming is fine, a listener can hear the grating sound of their torturous wails quite well. The instrumentation wasted as a vehicle for existential angst, as the awareness of ABBA is one of pain and discomfort. ABBA has their fans and that is fine, but this was supposed to be about albums one should hear before death and this is just a pure waste of time.

While his voice can be a bit congested sounding at times, it does require that the listener pay attention a bit more than perhaps normally. There is something a bit off about his rhyming that still makes sense, almost like he forces it at times, but unlike other artists where it feels as though they sacrifice clarity of message for the sake of a rhyme, Q-Tip instead seems to double-down on the flow itself to keep the integrity of his lyrics. This might be a long way of saying that he writes with intention rather than convenience. Some of the more popular rap artists opt for the convenient rhyme over the intentional writing, take any song that is more recognizable by its beat than its verses, and there is the example. Compare that to someone like Q-Tip, and the infusion of jazz, it makes some rap artists out there sound like lottery-winning amateurs, carried by a beat but forgotten in the verse. Q-Tip manages both, the jazz infusion is incredible. So much of jazz alone is chaotic and hard to follow, but Q-Tip and his use of it along with his verses make a path worth following, an order to the chaos.

This is a lousy recording, as if they put blankets over everything and then did it from backstage. The music sounds like it is going in the opposite direction away from the ears, a smart phone would have been a better recording device. Musically, everything is the same, Motörhead has a sound, and a familiar bluesy riff that permeates nearly every song to where once a listener has started to notice, the damage is done as boredom sets in. Small flashes of differences are sprinkled throughout that give a false sense of hope, but for what reason this album requires doom-prior listening is difficult to determine, maybe even impossible.

At some point nearly thirty years later, this album becomes almost a given for being a great album. While amazing at original release, with aspiring guitarists amusing adequately imbibed party-goers with "Wonderwall" or post-New Year celebrations anthemic-ally singing "Champagne Supernova", these are ultimately just indicators of something bigger, where the less than radio hits are worth their time in gold. "Hello" the opening track is a solid opener, heavy and seemingly laid bare, Oasis comes off as in control of their destiny. "Don't Look Back In Anger" is seemingly advice that the Gallagher Bros. should adhere to, "Some Might Say" scratches that 90s band pop/rock itch, etc., but the whole album does, in fact. Thing is, this album more than defined the 90s rock scene, it reinvigorated Britain's contribution to the genre earning it a reputation of it being able to do no wrong, that any music out of the UK was in fact, the next thing to be. While that may no longer be true, the point is for a while that it was.

This album has little to no direction, which understandably can be a draw for some listeners who revel in the aimlessness. The lyrics have a punk feeling to them, saying a lot of things without really saying anything unless a poser you were not. At first glance, the album title appeared to be "The Infotainment Scam" which would be apropos, as this album was neither info rich or entertaining. Musically, the album has a lot of groovy moments, the kind that says the album should be enjoyable but the lyrics and lack of resolution get old really quick. "Service" has a distinct and nice groove, but it never veers from that. It stays there while the vocalist seemingly just ad-libs. A hidden gem, perhaps, in "A Past Gone Mad" where a higher energy is reminiscent of future sounds from the Crystal Method and even Moby. The album has few merits but not enough to earn a higher score in this review.

Musically, this is a truly enjoyable album. Contextually, the theme of the album is weird, even as a rock opera. Artistic merits alone, this album is great. Through the lens of current social lenses (2022), it is a wonder whether or not history will view The Who without the controversy of Pete Townshend. This album does not help the case, as the subject matter does offer conjecture of how much those allegations/affiliations could lead back to this album. Quick digression, the album is well-produced, and the songs flow well, very well. The runtime was an initial concern but the album maintained good momentum throughout to the very end.

First listen, first learn, first impression. The opening track "Cherry-coloured Funk" is strangely hypnotic, with a tinge of haunting. That the album is from 1990 was a bit of a surprise in that the sound was quite removed from the 80s, something that didn't seem to become too obvious till the mid-90s. Real instruments, real-sounding drums, with keyboard/synth as accompanying elements, the album sounds great. Granted, this is a streaming quality recording as opposed to lossless, but hearing the layers as they are, if so good here one can imagine that an actual uncompressed recording might sound pretty incredible. The entirety of the album seems to follow this pace, the energy is not high, but it does not fall into boredom either. Each track seems to carry an emotional weight, and that is actually okay here. The vocals do bring to mind that of ABBA, but somehow this lacks ABBA's annoyingly bright disposition, which is also okay. Perhaps if the first track was not so good, the tone of the album could change but this album had a strong opener and the album as a complete experience is much more positive than usual with how it played well and managed to remain connected to itself, and the listener. A hidden gem, not quite a diamond, but one worth keeping around nonetheless.

Unmistakably reggae, "Catch A Fire" has the sound of Bob Marley's earlier sound before "Exodus" but we can hear his messaging start to change. Most noticeably on the song "No More Trouble". This album is very much reggae, and it is very good reggae, the kind that Marley can produce. What it does not have though, is the cultural impact of the man behind it, at least not yet.

Without much context, and a quick perusal of the song list, the band has a thing for... things. Musically, they are a bit of a combination of rock and punk with solid melodies accompanying punk-style vocal delivery. Honestly it is a bit of a surprise how objectively enjoyable the first listen is. Norway is known for a lot of things, but a band like Turbonegro was not the first thing on that list. "Prince of the Rodeo" is high energy, pure fun, with great resolve as any good rock song should have. Their sound is such that they are musically forward, with lyrics and vocals seeming to run a tad out of focus. Where the punk element really is on display, is where the songs seem to break in between melodies with an aggressive chorus that compels a listener to take up a stance of some kind, it does not matter what it is. "Humiliation Street" might be an under-estimated song on this album. This is a rock song very much in the vein of the late 90s, reminiscent of Alice in Chains. However, what makes the song particularly noticeable is that it is a slowed down offering for an album that until then had been very much including punk energy. This song however, is completely rock and while a bit lengthy, a great listen, showcasing Turbonegro's strong instrumental skills.

There is no need to waste words here. This is an album that imprinted on childhood, defining what is beautiful and how much passion can be communicated through song. While not a rock opera, it seems that it could be, as the album is an entire experience. While certain songs stand out over time more than the others due to their prevalence in pop culture, this album is easily U2's most ubiquitous, and in this review's opinion, their best.

Enjoyable album, and why would it not be? It is Paul McCartney after all, satiating the appetite for The Beatles as both Harrison and Lennon had moved on to solo projects as well with more than moderate success. Title track being the example where Paul is clearly on the verses, where an issue might come up is whether or not Paul McCartney can sing entirely without studio help. Perhaps it is just the recording, but the verses are him, but then the bridges and choruses have certain effects on them, a reverb through a megaphone effect. Small gripe for an otherwise enjoyable album, lessening the blow to fans everywhere that The Beatles were no longer together.

Is this it? Seems apropos for the album. Do not get this wrong, the album is good, but that is it. It is well-balanced at the start, and then sort of cruises at the same altitude the rest of the way. Not much for variety, and it starts to flirt with boredom. However, in spite of all that, there is a bit of an answer as to whether or not that was it, and the answer is 'yes'. Yes, that's it. A little bit of acceptance that the album hits a plateau early, and then at least the intentions are clear, expectations are carefully managed, and it earns a three.

Boston is one of those performing bands that sound as though they give everything. This album is chock full of them playing and singing their collective heart out, and something like that tends to make songs sound better, but also have a sense of feel. Their music is not heavy or loud, but their presentation carries weight. Music that makes a listener feel can often cover what would be otherwise an innocuous collection of songs. The songs on this album are pretty incredible, but Boston owns them to the degree that if anyone else were to perform them, it would feel a bit off.

This listener is a sucker for indie rock, and this album did not disappoint at all. Granted, after some time the search for indie rock tends to dwindle as a few indies grow up and join the so-called mainstream, but this one from 1993 is a very welcome throwback to the less complicated, the more intentional creation of independent rock. Warm instruments, restrained drums, melodic vocals, dare it be called 'emo', no, this was better than emo. It is what emo should have stayed being, good writing and enjoyable to listen and relate, not some whiney-complain-y mess. This was a neat surprise, a perfect album for less than energetic days, just a really good listen.

Rap/hip-hop, the subject matter is almost always going to be in some way controversial with how explicit it can be, but in the midst of all that can be significant messaging, good and bad. It is important on a listen through, to try and hear that. Eminem is not really an exception here, but it bears to note that 1001 is largely subjective, but this review is going to try and be objective anyways in spite of that. Controversy and rough persona aside, Eminem has an unbelievable capability of near total clarity. His creativity and rhyme are near ridiculous in that at no point would a listener consider that they could have written something like he does or deliver it with the authority that he does. "Stan" was one of two runaway hits, putting both Eminem and Dido on the musical map in the early aughts. The impact of "Stan" is felt when listened to as a single, but even more pronounced when listened to during the album. The album begins with lewd references, and tough misogyny, not really a winning combo in a so-called culture war, but then we are forcefully pivoted into a story about a fan's cry for help and slow descent into a murderous resentment at having felt abandoned by Slim Shady. "Steve Berman" is an interstitial sound clip warning listeners that Eminem is not run of the mill, followed by "The Way I Am" reinforcing the idea that Eminem refuses to be molded by the genre. It is fair to assume that he has remained mostly successful with that. Not even halfway through the album, Eminem has already opined on parenting, hypocrisy, with plenty of social commentary that any reasonable person may balk at, and then regrettably find to be agreeable. This album was a very quick follow-up to his first album, a lament of his meteoric rise in popularity is present in "Marshall Mathers" who to this day, no one knows him by that name. Scathing rebukes of pop music, politically incorrect euphemisms/designations, Eminem separates himself from his personal identity in an attempt to stay Eminem on tour and on TV, but keeping Marshall Mathers at some kind of distance. This might seem strange given that the album is literally self-titled or that his moniker is onomatopoeia for his initials, but Eminem teaches a valuable lesson here. He has successfully established boundaries for each person he is. He's the real Slim Shady (monopolizing his identity), whose name happens to be Marshall Mathers (his actual person), but we know him as Eminem (the person he wants to be hated but also the most understood). Towards the album's conclusion we are subjected to a hard drama on the song "Kim" where the characters seem real but the events are embellished, seeing as Eminem was not placed in prison for admitting to murder. The further into the listen, the question does present as to why 1001 included this album. The social contribution is without question, as is his talent and sustained career. The mentorship of Dr. Dre, Snoop, and others certainly play a part in Eminem's success and those by themselves are significant endorsements. The importance of this might be complex, from the racial controversies he endured at the start to whether or not Dr. Dre and Co. are viewed as selling out to "white" audiences. Either way, time has told a better and more compelling story of people the best at what they do, finding each other and doing it together.

The album is an absolute favorite, and recently. Their careful blend of music and vocals achieves the kind of balance that makes for a complete experience. To say this is a perfect album would be a bit much, but it does have a sense of delicateness where if you add more of a single element, or take away some of another, this balance quite obviously would be disrupted somehow. The completeness is the real draw here, a supreme satisfaction at the end of a listen.

The album is a bit weird, and gives off an uninviting vibe. Sort of in a "Hey, you can play me but piss off." vibe. Album title being "Drunk" the vibe might well be apropos, and if approached in that light there is a bit of an entertaining element to the whole thing. The collabs were actually neat touches with Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins, including some cameos from Kendrick Lamar, Wiz Khalifa, and Pharrell. The album certainly meets criteria for not being a subjectively bad one, but objectively the importance of its inclusion on 1001 seems a bit short of earned.

The title track is timeless, no question. Thing is, not another song on this album would have carried it the way it did so in a way it could be justified having this album on 1001 as it had probably the most effective runaway hit on any album at any time. In summation, the album is nothing spectacular.

If you have a day where a touch of experimental space rock is the tunes du jour, this album is near perfect. Melodic, sensical, and reliably less annoying than other experimental pursuits out there, "Playing With Fire" will break the monotony in a good way with its own kind of it. It may not change the world, or even rock it a little bit, but somehow this album was the respite that this reviewer did not know they needed.

This was a good album, could probably work as a decent play in the background, but that is it. The band has a great sound in that they are a British rock band, and perhaps the lottery of 1001 has this reviewer feeling a bit over-saturated with that genre. Recording-wise, Spotify's version was actually pretty nice. Warm lows, balanced mids, not so much help from an external EQ except for what may be present on the Anker Soundcore P3 earbuds. The equipment is necessary to share since the usual equipment are wired IEMs or headphones. Back to the review, the album is not profound, the song "Violence" has some punk vibes in terms of lyrics, but the album as a whole hits the melodic sensibilities of a rock band. The first track "All The Way From Memphis" has that single feel to it, with a generous yet complementary use of a horn section, the song was their best offering. Overall, it is a fine album. Nothing to really hate about it, and nothing to really rave about.

In a full circle moment, as the album's penultimate track "Everything Will Be Alright" plays, that first curious memory and through today, the absolute satisfaction of an album being more than a single song plays into the rating. While nostalgia is an unreliable judge, here is an album where it gets it right without much if any argument.

This reviewer has a primary dislike of singer-songwriter, and something as rock and roll as Iggy Pop is not that much of an exception. Songs with proper choruses, relevant repetitive hooks, even some sense of predictability are arguably what songs are. Putting words to music if anything, is an oversimplification of song-writing. Either way, the reason "The Passenger" gets to be runaway hit on this album is because the song creates resolve. It is a great song, easily quite catchy and one that will remain in one's head for no short amount of time. The rest of the album however, most of it tends to fall into the singer/songwriter category where we are given wordy stories that have not much to do with the music that plays it, or so it seems. This album does do very well where most in this genre get scored horribly. Iggy's lyrics are not infuriatingly there for no reason, he does portend some intention and with that there is a level of interest in what the songs have to say.

Metal is never something this reviewer will understand on a deep level. Imagery and parental warnings aside, the genre does not leave a large footprint. On to the review, Anthrax is a drive hard sing hard metal band, and they are great at it. The tempo is high energy with aggressive drums, and the guitars are guttural and played with an authority that can be felt. Even in the more thrashy elements (e.g. Efilnikufesin) there is a well-played base melody/rhythm that avoids chaotic nonsensical drivel, but instead seems to signal a listener that getting crazy is expected here. Vocally, the lead singer takes some notes from 80's glam metal with the occasional shriek going into pre-pubescent frequencies, but it is used in moderation the kind where the listener can treat those moments as displays of vocal talent. The hard singing is remarkably clear, the singer is not holding back but he is also not giving too much as to be unlistenable. Unlike other metal bands of the time, this album does have significant variety. At some point metal bands find a boring type of consistency where the listener realizes that each song has in some way become a repurposed version of a song they heard earlier. This review is happy to report that element as not being too evident here. Granted, metal has a consistent or expected sound to it, but where a good metal band really shines is their ability to build upwards from there and expanding the soul of the genre. Anthrax's incorporation of glam rock melodies, sewn between driving metal, this creates variety across each track, and this is good.

The echo of drums, the discernible cadence of 1980s beats, this is everything the 80s in terms of sound. Vocals are sung in the lower registers, the synthesizers in full effect establishing the base rhythm, filling in the empty space with electronic sounds, almost as if taking a cue from Vangelis's "Chariots of Fire". Minus the 80s sound, the vocals are reminiscent of The National in their lowered pitches. However, this is also reminiscent of what Cradle of Filth would have been had they been an 80s band to go along with a slightly brighter disposition. The album art is practically gothic in tone, but the album itself is a bit more ambiguous. Admittedly that is a weird takeaway. Overall, this album is remarkable in its enjoyability. The recording available on Spotify is very good on the ear, the space between each instrument avoids that crowded "feel" and gives it a sense of reality where much of the 80s sound made things feel crowded-while-somehow-in-space. "Flood II - Vinyl" is an exceptional track, musically. The electronic elements are there a la John Carpenter (again, not gothic but a bit dark), but what really stands out and gives the brightness is that the acoustic guitar is heavily featured as somewhat of a torch in a dark room. The drum beats are hopeful in their loops, the strings are positive in their presentations. The darker elements are all electronic as previously noted, and in the haunting vocals. Towards the end of the album, it is about time to learn a bit more about Sisters of Mercy and it is a bit of a surprise. Notes of Cradle of Filth all of a sudden make sense, even though they could not be more opposed. The album gets a highly praised 4.

Firstly, who does not particularly enjoy "Baba O'Riley", "Behind Blue Eyes" or "Won't Get Fooled Again"? These are songs that have entered the pop culture lexicon, and probably will remain there as long as we still get to listen them. Still, while those three make the album unique there does seem to be a lack of why this album matters for the purposes of 1001 as a whole. The album doesn't carry the operatic elements of "Tommy" or even a significant theme that carries through the album. That being said, the album is fine, it is The Who, and they rock as they do, but for some reason there was more to expect here.

No real articulation as to why this album is rated the way it is, but an attempt at it will be made. Jay-Z's association with being gangsta has a much different perception than Tupac or Biggie. The appeal of the latter artists was much more raw, telling stories that were relatable to people with shared experiences in their upbringings. Jay-Z, in a way does some of that, but there is a very different quality to this album that feels different. Perhaps years later, the gift of hindsight shows Jay-Z as more of a hustler making his way through the streets and into the penthouse. Where many in the rap industry tell stories based on the past, Jay-Z somehow manages a more progressive, forward-thinking feel to the production and lyrics. The feel is that Jay-Z is going somewhere, whereas the feel from his predecessors and even some contemporaries felt anchored in place by their respective experiences. Jay-Z has that sort of "Look at me now" vibe and his career validates that. So what is it about the album? Firstly, Jay-Z has some of the most clear and easy to listen to lyrics of anybody. Even with Eminem guesting on "Renegade", to hear both of them on the same album is going to draw comparisons and they both were just really amazing. Secondly, the musical composition of Jay-Z's songs are diverse and the music and/or samples that he and his production team (Kanye West) put together for this were very well executed. "Heart of the City" is a great example of this. Where a lot of rap artists tend to skimp is with melodies, and Jay-Z does well to incorporate more of that to go with the beats. Maybe that's where it feels forward and progressive?

It is Otis Redding singing what are essentially the pop songs of his day. Whether or not this earns a spot in 1001 is anyone's debate, but getting to hear a Blues legend take other people's music for a spin and make it his own is a treat for listeners, and this reviewer is glad for it.

The album starts off okay, as though the listener is about to experience something nice, something interesting, and maybe enjoyable, but at six tracks equaling forty-five minutes, some skepticism sets in. Six-minute songs are okay if that's what they are. By the third track, when a listener realizes that a song is still going and checks the time, the nice/interesting/enjoyable expectation starts to get shaky. The fourth track, things are back to normal song lengths, but then by track five "Gypsy Woman" the listener is subjected to a 12-minute track that drones along. Track six being less than 3 minutes becomes a sigh of relief. Musically, Tim Buckley is pretty good and his vocal style is really nice but as far as the experience of an album goes, this was mainly sad.

The foray into this album was blind, and that might have been the saving grace here. Is it rock? Is it rockabilly? Is it punk? The answer is yes. There are rock compilations, and then there are literal rock compilations. This album is the latter. Each element seems to be touched on throughout, and it suffers from the shortcomings of all of them. The overly-lyric'd and semi-chaos of punk, the basic generic sound of rock, the old-fashioned rockabilly, in a way if the Blues were a person, they should feel somewhat annoyed by this. However, something weird happens with all of those gripes, and that is they start to make sense in an optimistic way. An appreciation that each element can coexist on an album grows, and while the album does not evoke any great emotion or produce rabid fandom, there is actually a lot of respect to be earned here. The band really put effort into this, at least that is what it sounds like. Lead vocalist sounds invested, the music is played with vigor. Psychopunkabilly can sound lazy, but The Gun Club does not. Their compositions are filled with bluesy hooks, punkish interjections, rock tones, and intention, the kind that requires some deliberateness. A real credit to this album.

The experimental elements of Rush are nicely tolerated as they do not get lost in the experience, staying carefully rooted in their rock tendencies. Hard to realize that a lot of their electronic contributions to music was and remains probably some of the most well done. Rush found a great way to incorporate that into their music while still keeping the rock alive, and for that this review will not debate the inclusion of this album on 1001.

One could always find something wrong with Kanye West, and this album is no exception. The draw here is that Kanye also seems to bury his gems, and once past any criticism, one cannot help but root for the guy. His ear for melody in a beat-centric genre is probably the best in the industry. His production prowess is nothing to make fun of or sleep on, Jay-Z being an example of where Kanye typically comes from in terms of colleagues and frequent collaborators. "Runaway" is a painfully awkward honest song, again buried and bookended by is-it-misogynistic? bravado, further evidenced by the suggestive album title. Kanye West as a persona has been difficult to accept at times, and that has either played well into his music or not, but the talent is on display regardless.

Surprisingly, this album lacked the non-sensical rebellion of their earlier work. Maybe because Morrissey was just sort of along for this one, a way less self-absorbed version of him perhaps? Regardless, the album is actually decent in the background in a much less "What's that noise?" way and more of a 'Hey, what's this?". When the realization though that it is a Smiths album comes across, the reaction will be more surprise than borderline disgust at least.

Scott Pilgrim vibes, the music evokes a sense of color. Perhaps a rare moment of synesthesia, but a surprisingly welcome one at that. Musically, there is a lot of groove, strong beats and a rather beautifully sounding mix. The sounds of punk have always seem to focus on drums and guitars, with the bass as an afterthought lacking musical thump in favor of angsty lyrics and the sound of their own voice, but not here. Punk energy, rock melodies, and plenty of bass, this album becomes a really solid experience that cannot necessarily be labeled into a particular genre. Lyrics honestly were mostly ignored, not for any real reason other than this reviewer is speaking of the experience of what they hear, not so much what is being listened to at an extrapolative level. This album was remarkably fun and if grief or praise were to be given for liking it, the response will be an apathetic shrug.

It seems rare that jazz can be fun, and usually because it incorporates a bit of a band feel, with commanding brass, aggressive yet rhythmic drumming, and sensical melodies not drowned within droll mathematics. This album is the former, a testament to lively culture and the capability of that to produce that pep in the step, a non-regrettable episode of excitement contained by what is also a master class in pure entertainment.

Growing up was more of that 80s Genesis, but this album was surprisingly complex and the \"new stereo mix\" put some pretty good depth to how this album sounded. It would cause wonder as to whether or not one has even heard this band before. The album was absurdly long, but today (10-6-22) was apparently a good day for it. The music was heavy, it had some experimental things, there were flutes, there was a lot going on and usually that tends to overwhelm. However, the album itself was sensical in its absurdity, which is really hard to be happy with, but here it is. Deep and sustained bass notes (as opposed to short, quick, thumps) supporting solid rhythms and melodies, a listener would almost wonder if this was really from 1974 where a lot of things were heavily electronic, disco-inspired, and otherwise sounding and feeling contained. The opposite is true here, this recording seems as if it were completely open, all musical elements playing in their respective lanes creating what is essentially a symphonic experience. Complex with surprises, the expected talent of Phil Collins, this album was a great experience and belongs in any library.

Lots of groove, lots of chaotic jazz, thankful it was a short album because if it were any longer, the rating would just keep going down.

Santana is a gifted player may perhaps be an oversimplification of his talent, but it is the truth. This is the kind of album played on a sunny day while on vacation, or maybe just a weekend in the backyard. Musically, the album is just really enjoyable, there is no sense of profound, or any mind-blowing feelings associated with it. It is at its finest, a really comfortable experience.

Rap/hip-hop might be the remaining bastion of complete album experience. The style and degree of intention for them sort of require that every song stand on its own, and not be anchored by a particular hit. This album, even after two listens, has minimal impact from a single track and that is only because of the reference/shout-out to The D.O.C. As objective as this review can be, the subject matter and related experiences are a world that not everyone will completely understand. This production is every bit as personal as it is a means to entertain so for some it is an education of sorts, where for others it is a commentary on their actual lives.

The day would have to be particularly lazy for this album to feel an apropos listening choice. Thing is, there are few, if any, days lazy enough. This album wants to be something more than it is, and Syd Barrett seems to be trying to try so that he could try but somewhere along this line the man forgot his heart at the expense of this album's soul. The album is not suffering a deficit of music or talent, but it is very deficient of soul. The album is the shell of something else, perhaps someone else.

The album is neither incredible or incredibly boring. It is nice though, and for being produced in the late 70s, released in 1980, we can sort of hear the transition from disco electronica to what would become an eventual overuse in the decade. Recording wise, no deep bass, more of a thumpiness without feeling, just presence that there's a bass. That may have more to do with how grooving Echo & The Bunnymen tended to be on this album. Crescendos such as in the song "Monkey" have some of that deep bass note, but it is quite muted not allowed to carry. The rest of the songs tend to follow the recording practices of decades prior where everything is packed together playing on the same track. Drums sound electronic, probably were. The cymbals are too perfect, the snare too consistent, unless of course the drummer is just that professional. All in all, the album feels very polished with everything just done so well. Maybe a little too well. Why 1001? This review has not really found the answer to that, except that tracking how the sounds changed each decade, this album bridges that disco era with rock & roll of the 80s eventually giving way to the reverb-happy methods that would become rather common. "Happy Death Men" is an example of some of that sound, not to mention a little bit of adlib/chaos at the song's conclusion. Neither incredible, or boring.

There is nothing extraordinary about this album requiring a look at the history of 1984 and why maybe it could have been. Maybe there is a respect for its simple sounds, Sade's careful vocal range, etc., that resonated deeply in 1984 that we are likely taking for granted in the present.

Perhaps not the most eccentric Bowie, but maybe this is the most coherent. Title track was a long, but enjoyable tone-setting track that honestly could have held its own. This was indeed Bowie's final album and the last track "I Can't Give Everything Away" puts a cap on what has been a storied and well-told career, always looking for a bit more. While the rating is a 4/5, heart says four but meaning five.

In 2022, we can look at this album and determine that perhaps this was peak Kanye West. Entertaining, musically engaging, and overall a finely told story this is the kind of production that puts Kanye at the top of the rapper/producer listings.

Who knew that this contained the original catchy song that would later be featured in The Lion King film? Overall, the music is tribal at times with aggressive beats and background ensembles providing pivotal highs and near ominous lows a la a capella. The real kicker here is that Miriam's lead vocal is a literal lead as she and the BGVs complement each other in a remarkably pleasing way. Admittedly, this is way outside the personal cultural atmosphere but it was a welcome journey. Miriam's vocals were strong, delivered with passion, and more incredibly her pitch was near perfect too. While the style is certainly unique to Africa in general, the hope is that this review can encourage anyone to give this an open minded listen.

Gone are the days where we can rely on Radiohead to produce anything that resembles coherency, the profound, or really anything that connects with listeners. Radiohead is a token example of a band that has taken experimentalism and managed to not only lose themselves in the process, but also any collective memory of their recent works that isn't "Creep". Thing is, Radiohead is so big on promise that even reviewers such as this cannot help but to continue consuming their content and just being used to the disappointment and long for better days when Radiohead was a rock band.

Rush's sound included a lot of the electronic elements of Pink Floyd, but with higher energy. "Tom Sawyer" makes the case for one of the best song openings in history, and certainly Top 50 all-time rock songs. Those are just facts, the placement can certainly be argued. Overall, the grooving melodies of Rush are on full display here, a truly enjoyable album by one of the more correctly rated rock bands ever. The only regret (not about Rush, but more about the decade) is that the 1980s would undergo significant changes in musical trends heavily tilted toward the electronic elements whereas this album struck such a clean, and minimally compromising balance between that and real instruments. Overall, the album is a solid rock album that is so solid that maybe it should be perfect, but there's the feeling that it is not as close to that as it should be and for that, the review settles on 4/5.

This album starts off really boring in a way that the corny-wanna-be-loud-but-failing-at-it 1980s was, but about halfway through the groove seems to change and before one knows it, they are on a second listening. The sound starts to capture the classic hangout films of the decade, where now the album earns it place as a wonderful backdrop to work, or just easy listening. Sure, there is nothing mind-blowing here, but what there is, is what became an album worth listening to at least twice and being okay with that.

Punk usually ends up gradually annoying when the innate anarchism of the genre starts seeping into what should still be good music. Pink Flag vibes some kind of excellence here that seems missing from a lot of punk music, and maybe that begs the question if this album is really punk? The album is certainly a band doing their own thing, their lyrics seemingly everywhere, their sound incorporating short and chaotic messes, but then there's also something else. Intention, as though they are also thinking about making the music good. There is a melodic tendency in their songs that temper the rebellious undertones, that remains a welcome stranger even if they do not care about you.

Seemingly experimental, the featured fiddle, drawled dialog in place of singing, there is a sense of country and a tinge of Pink Floyd. However, this is bad country and a bad Pink Floyd. Notable exception is the song "Flitcraft" where the country and folk element just seems to work to where it might even work as a bar anthem. Beyond that, though, the album is without significant impact as it just sort of plays with a sense of crisis of identity till about halfway through when it blatantly tries to be a country album by a band that has an idea of it, but struggles with its execution. If there has been a question of what 'trying' sounds like, this is Exhibit A.

People that prefer melodic rock will find their groove here. This album deserves to be judged as a whole where each song finds a way to be what it is when it is playing, but then slipping into near obscurity when the next one starts. While this can come off as something that sounds boring, perhaps it is, but objectively without any consideration of mood or preferences, this album is remarkably solid and well done, and if it is boring, so be it, this is one of the best boring album experiences to be had.

The instrumentation on this album is so good. The groove, the melodies, the music is absolutely fantastic. Moments of pure enjoyment and appreciation for how well the band plays each song, only to get interrupted by Tom Waits. Tom Waits is the villain in this album.

The album is a bit of a surprise being their seventeenth, and it is a positive testament of the band's ability to change their sound. The album certainly does not fit their moniker, but in a way we get to experience them as a band that has matured without Brian Wilson. The identity of The Beach Boys being an issue here is that the music does not fit. Therein lies somewhat of a great experience or enigma, because the album is actually really really good because it is The Beach Boys. This band's history is one of the more dramatic ones out there, but it certainly lends a bit of importance to everything they have still managed to produce in spite of all that. This album being a great example.

The album is melodic, full of heart and just an enjoyable experience. Admittedly, knowledge about the band is limited, the music being allowed to speak for them. "City With No Children" as ominous as that may sound, is a beautifully played song. While not exactly a rock opera, "Half Light I" and "Half Light II" play as a show within themselves with strong melodies and driving rhythms. In a great way, the album takes us somewhere else for a few minutes to enjoy an EP within an album. Overall, the album is seemingly sincere and that carries a lot of weight here.

Never really understand the mystique behind Bob Dylan. Perhaps as a lyricist, he finds ways to resound with listeners but musically and vocally, he leaves a lot to be desired for that complete experience.

"School" is a strong start to this album, with an aggressive groove befitting the 1970s. The inspiration of blues and jazz are on full display here during the instrument-only interludes, and then shift almost suddenly to the more rock-elements when vocals are included. It is as though the genres take turns when playing their songs rather than being a blend of them. It creates a break in the attention for each song that honestly is well-received here. "Bloody Well Right" the second track, is a fine example of this. Having been contemporaries, it is difficult not to acknowledge similarities between Supertramp and Pink Floyd. This album in particular, Supertramp has much more variety of instruments where Pink Floyd was a bit more linear as a rock band. Overall, this album is a great experience and lends credence to their deserved place in the discussion of all-time great bands of the 70s.

The album was fun, not necessarily an attention-grabber or even an attention-seeker. Nothing noteworthy or profound on the first listen-through. These are all good things for the purposes of this review, though. The sound of the 1980s was ever so faint, with the predictable beats of the early 1990s when drums started getting really pop-style emerging throughout the listen. The vocals were still very much of the previous decade, but there was a sense of honesty that the 90s seemed to have brought out in its transition from the 80s. This is rather hard to explain, admittedly. Overall, the album is indicative of the trends from one decade to the next, maybe even a perfect blend of that. The appreciation for this album starts and ends there, however.

This is not a country album, but it feels like a country album, but this is somehow a yield from the punk era? In light of such revelations, the listening experience is affected by equal parts what Dire Straits is, and also what it is not. Musically, it's easy listening, the lyrics are inconsequential living rent-free in one's head without annoying controversy. This is a fine album.

Objectively, the Beatles for their time were amazing, no contestation there. Objectively, their productions were/remain some of the more emulated and sought after achievements by any band or studio. Objectively, they are a snapshot in history well-deserving of their fame and prestige. Subjectively, this album was boring and while the Beatles as a subject should in fact be something to be educated about, the idea that their music/catalog is a must-listen in any other capacity outside of education and historical impact, is ludicrous. Give to The Beatles what is The Beatles's, but music is much bigger than they will ever be.

The Undertones are underwhelming, but the album is a bit of a rocker and is worth a few listens. The thing is, the album does not get better but it does stay consistent and that in and of itself is a positive thing here. History plays a big role in how albums are rated on this site, and not everyone is old enough to understand the impact here outside of being a picture of the past. That being said, The Undertones are a very decent band on this album, their music efforts are rewarding to the ear, and their lyrics not without purpose. While it may be an underwhelming listen, it is not so in a way that is disappointing.

Live albums are hard to appreciate, and this is no exception to that. The album seems like they had a good time, the crowd seemed like they had a good time, but that is just it. The listener of this live album, did not have a good time. Expectations were already low, and perhaps a little bias is here in that this album had been touted as one of the best live albums to ever be produced. The metrics used to determine that are unknown, but from a listeners' perspective, the album was just a live album. Did this impact the way live albums were produced going forward? No indicators there. Is Thin Lizzy culturally relevant at the time? Yes, and this album was produced at their peak. Recognizable hits like "The Boys Are Back In Town" sounded better on their respective albums, the nostalgic trip was a little too familiar. Live albums should (as a matter of opinion) convey a little more of the heart and soul of a band's catalog that is hidden from a studio production. Not so much of that was here, exceptions being crowd engagement in between songs. Maybe that is what a live album is, but in the year of our Lord, 2023, the expectation that this was an arguably great live album is no longer met.

Unique find, no regrets after two listen-throughs. It is a bit of chill rock, with a bit of quirk, but it also has a feel of intention that gives the album a good feel. While nothing in particular stands out in the album, the performance is remarkably inviting, hinting that there could be more to it. There is some truth here that on the second listen, the enjoyability of this album really stood out, and in a way it plays differently. The album is a hidden gem, and it stokes curiosity as to why.

In a fit of irony, a young boy ignorant of their apparel was wearing a Run-D.M.C. tee shirt on this day. Rap, so much has changed in its relatively short time as a genre. Rhymes and messaging were paramount in a much simpler delivery. In the 21st century, rap and many of its offshoots started to use more repetition and become somewhat chorus-based, which is in its own way a welcome change, but also largely resulted in less writing, lazy writing, and less about the message. Run-D.M.C. though, they are very much the reason many artists would get into the game, and this album certainly proves that. Rock elements, key repetitions, but most of all, a sense of purpose in their verse delivery makes them stand out. While the sound can be elementary at times vs. the new and improved beats of today, today's rap lacks a significant fundamental that early rap artists could tap into so easily, and that is some kind of message that spoke to the culture. These days, no one takes any of these new artists with the reverence that these early groups can now demand.

Beck to this day is probably the best at sounding like Beck. His quirky compositions, quasi-pointless lyrics, to the way he sings, all are token Beck. If a listener likes that, they will never be disappointed, and if a listener does not, they will likely never change their mind, regardless of the album.

Inspired commentary is scarce for this reviewer. The album does not stand out as being critical for listening, nor does it stand out as being interesting, but then that is also progressive rock in general. Their take on "Fanfare for the Common Man" is however quite amazing, and admittedly is being compared here as far as the rating goes.

Such a great album. Ice Cube has a way to yell at his listeners without losing clarity in his delivery. He speaks from his gut, and in a way it tempers the performance vibe that many artists have, and instead promotes a realness that makes this album sound like required listening. Yes, the subject matter of the times provides plenty of material for Ice Cube here, and the album is a creative message not only for the black community, but an intellectual call for understanding at a deeper level. Without getting too much into the ideologies conveyed, there is a lot of information here that everyone should take into honest consideration. Ice Cube is clear, he is aggressive, and his writing prowess is excellent. This is well-delivered album and while its reception may be impacted by the tough talk, the hard subject matter, if the listener can move through the album with a bit of openness, they are in for a real experience on how rap was so impactful in these early years.

Live albums are just live albums. Insights into the personality of the band notwithstanding, the experience is purely subjective and hardly ever something that should be shared in this context. This reviewer does find some good in this live album and that is it plays like a live concert. A lot of songs, starting with some that are moderately popular and then closing out the last portion of the album with well-known favorites. Between all that though are some awesome moments of the band just jamming together, and that is always something to appreciate here. The objective here though is whether or not this live album experience is something one cannot live without. The answer is 'yes', a person can go their whole existence not having heard this live album and everything will be more or less the same.

The album has one of the strongest openers of all time with "Paint It, Black" and one can certainly hear the slightly darker tone that the Stones had versus their Beatles contemporaries. Fair enough to say that if it were to come down between them, this reviewer would sway to the Rolling Stones. The remainder of the album matches energy fairly well, with performances by Mick Jagger having a live feel and sound, giving the album a spatial awareness while still featuring their vocals and instrumental prowess. Solid album, definitely one that anyone should hear at least once.

Surprisingly groovy with an assortment of melodies, and slick beats on par with the late 90s, this was an enjoyable listen. In particular, the track "Trainspotting" was well done and was a fine choice for near the end of the album.

This review does not pretend to understand the praise of mediocrity here. Ryan Adams is objectively good, but subjectively speaking there is no mortal requirement to have spent time on this.

1970s rock hits a bit differently, it is admittedly the best era of the genre. So much competition out there, that to stand out, and to stand the test of time, makes the case for the listening requirement before death. The album is a feel good experience, the kind that makes you want to spend the day in a garage with cold drinks, work on the car, smoke something, etc. There's something really Americana about the whole thing, the sense of freedom, that everything will be fine even when it is not (it was the 70s after all). Maybe it is just that the album was so upbeat without betraying some sense of reality.

A more apt title for this album could have been "Sweet Baby Jams" for how smooth and kind-sounding this album is. Unlike most boring albums, James Taylor's outing here does keep a sense of interest throughout. The album is good enough to deserve its play, and if one were to rate this album on just its listenability, James Taylor certainly earns high praise just for that. Sure, one may not need to listen to this album, but they should at least get to hear it and decide for themselves.

At the time of this review, the album was not available in its entirety anywhere so there was a bit of hopping around trying to find singles. Unfortunately, that led to a bit of uncertainty about the album itself, but as for the band, it is a mystery to how they have managed to remain under the radar for this listener. Sure, bands of the 60s, particularly the British ones, hogged much of the attention, but this band certainly held their own. Melodic, intentional vocals, the band hits all of the professional musician stereotypes, and for what could be gleaned puts out really good music.

Roxy Music was a bit of a surprise, perhaps it was haste when seeing the album title to assume a country album but getting a rock band instead. It is not always apparent why an album makes the list, and it seems like the original compiler gets desperate at times at the thought of needing to select 1001 of these things in order to sell a book. This is not to say that "Country Life" is a bad album, but it does say that it is an album where it makes you wonder whether or not it belongs here. British rock bands have played such a role in modern music, but at some point "British rock band" becomes monolithic, and this reviewer would rather look at the best of that bunch versus all of them. Roxy Music did not really stand out in this sense, but if the listener commits to the album, it is worth the listen in spite of the aforementioned gripes.

Stevie Wonder and his career is a no-brainer when it comes to things people experience. Being born blind, his formative years being right into the Civil Rights era, Stevie Wonder was required to listen to the messaging of that day. In a way, his perspective, while not getting the visuals, is one where able to do a lot of what people do not do, and that is really, comprehensively, listen to what is happening and being said. Stevie Wonder's album Innervisions is all of the fun we expect from Stevie, and includes moments of being brought back to earth. This trapeze artist sense of balance capturing the excitement of happiness and acknowledging the anxiety of risk, makes this album more than just music. Stevie Wonder, having honed his ability to communicate at literally in the most cerebral ways, not only performs but writes a great album.

Making it as an all-girl band in any decade is an incredible feat, but especially in the punk genre. Some bands have had success with female lead singers, but an all-girl punk band would seem like a long shot for success. Punk tends to have some rough around the edges, calloused nuance, that would be more typical from men, and The Go-Go's knew that, so they did something different. They decided to have fun, and it worked. They didn't need to have the rough edges or the calloused nuance, and as a punk band, they were already playing against 'the man' by being women. In a way, listeners had to like them, but the The Go-Go's more than earned it with this album. Sadly, replicating their success would be difficult, The Go-Go's were certainly unique and any look at the music landscape would see that they were exceptional.

Adele simply has a great voice, and she communicates her songs so well that it is difficult to be critical. Objectively, her style and music are not for everyone nor does it have to be, but she does make such a strong case for herself and her sound to be its own brand. A brand that while not every listener will consume, a brand that every listener can respect as being the best of its kind. Her voice is semi-raspy without any cost to its projection of depth, her technical efforts can be heard as though she is one wrong breath from messing up, the listener can hear Adele do the work of singing with effort. This effort translates to something meaningful, something to respect, even if Adele is not for the listener. So why after all that praise, does the rating fall short of 5 stars? Reasons are fairly simple, in that this album is not a prerequisite to death (objectively none are, but that's not the point) and while there is so much to love about Adele, there is no reason to feel that one is missing out by not having heard this album. Four stars is just as prestigious for this reviewer in that a listener may not need to have heard this, but they should be glad that they did.

Time and circumstances make this album a hit or miss, but as luck would have it, this review comes on the heels of a day in the office where this energy was apropos. This album, like many in the electronic music genre, makes use of sound effects, loops, tons of repetitive elements that eventually get boring, but Fatboy Slim finds a way to break that monotony of sounds and put out actual songs. This is what separates this album and Fatboy Slim from their electronic contemporaries who either focused solely on dance, or trance. Catchy electronic music that justifies a few minutes of key repetitions is truly an elusive element in that genre, but that's where this album really shines.

The good news here is that Fiona Apple seems to have remembered how to end a song. The not so great news is that it is still Fiona Apple, containing all the likability an artist should have to achieve her success, but just leaving the experience in a scattered, existential crisis of why this album should be heard prior to death.

The album has a bit of an attitude, mostly fun with a touch of rebellion committing to the free and unbound culture of the genre. A real punk album at its core. "Master Race Rock" is full of hooks and groove, super catchy and carrying with it some elements of the loudness of The Who, but the vocals are clearly more punky, a mix of oratory delivered with authority, capped by cheers and hype statements (e.g. "Let's go!"). It is not a bad start for a genre that has fewer hits than misses.

Every so often there comes an album where the music does more of the talking than the vocals do. This is one of those. It is not for lack of singing, but for what little lyrics are presented on this album, the music makes up for in giving those few words gravitas and meaning. This is hard to do either direction, but QMS dare it be said delivers so nicely here. This is not a well-balanced album in that sense, there are moments where a verse or at least a bridge would be a welcomed break in the groove, but overall no regrets are to be had here. While not exactly experimental in which the music feels aimless, it does have a trip-trance-like ebb and flow where the journey does not feel blind, as though the music is the resolve and that is where the strength of this album lies in comparison to other psychedelic offerings. Each key change, or change in melody is a resolve, the music feels complete in that sense. While some experimental or psychedelic music puts an emphasis on being lost, where QMS delivers better is best summed up by Tolkein's Gandalf, where not all who wander are lost. The 12-minute track "Calvary" is a decent example of this. If using one's imagination they could build an anthology story in their own mind of what each section could be about, and build a fitting end to each. The album is simply satisfying.

Title track immediately recalls countless television/film experiences, so much so that one cannot remember the specifics. Bluesy jazz is the best kind of jazz. Forego the weird experimental jazz where it is all math and chaos, and instead go with what music was intended to do, which was to build and create an experience. Is this an overhype? Probably. Instrumental albums are going to be more on the subjective end of the spectrum. This is a great jazz blues album, period. It is a solid, enjoyable experience that makes the work day glide on by, and for that, a good rating.

The listening experience of this album is like hearing someone else play a video game while muttering to themselves.

The aim is not true.

This album is definitely a type of art, but lacks the fun and showmanship of rap albums from the likes of Parliament. Objectively, the songs and the sketches are not bad but they fall too much into the vibe of being pointless, and random in theme. There's a certain sense of cohesiveness that this album slips a little too in and then out of. Even with an intentional listen, trying to get into the mind of Dr. Octagon, the album is just a bit too much to be rated highly, but respectable enough to not dislike with any real passion.

Super chill, melodic and perfect for easy listening or as background music for an office. Massive Attack is incredibly accessible to nearly any listener, which is sort of their appeal and this album is no exception to that. Beats and melodies are consistent, plenty of resolve in each song, and overall nothing stands out by itself, the experience is pretty complete. Therein sort of lies the mediocre rating, where the biggest advantage that Massive Attack has is also where it does not earn higher a rating, it is so even-keeled and accessible that it gets caught in that grey area of respect and indifference.

This album remains perhaps the only one of its kind that remains listenable. Preceding what would later become alternative metal, rap-core, and then arguably nu metal, etc., RATM is the gold standard that did not seem to sell out, at least as badly, to the 'machine'. The best part of this album though is the mix, taking De La Rocha's lyrics and hip-hop/rap style engineering we are given a hard rock album with authoritative thump that drives the passionately angry protest vibes with an aurally tangible fervor. Those are what makes the album great, but it sort of also becomes where the album begins to plateau. Zack's rhythm and prose are consistent throughout, the band's style and instrumentation follow suit so very well, but this album is a forced feeding to the listener of their political feelings and offers little in terms of where to go from there and in a frustrating way that while it motivates the fight it offers no visibility into what winning would look like. This is the thinking man's review, but objectively and with regard to the music and with total respect for political beliefs that favor with good intentions values that are at their core agreeable, there may not be a better or more effective display of politics in the world of music.

The album is best in small doses in the year of our Lord, 2023, and for less than the right reasons. The 80s possess a certain amount of campy, near unbelievable that it was ever a real thing stigma. It truly was a great time to be alive, but also a weird one that when it ended, it ended hard, and no one saw it coming. "Songs From The Big Chair" though, this is a callback to the music of the decade where the camp and unbelievability serve as a delightful foray into nostalgia. While the album at large gets ignored because of how popular "Shout" and "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" remains, the album in its entirety is a respectable masterpiece that captures 80s pop as lightning in a bottle. Electronic dominance notwithstanding, we get to hear that the band members are actually very good musicians from a pop-genre that honestly felt materialistic rather than genuine. In a way, it makes one feel that the 80s was real, and for that achievement of authenticity, this album deserves a listen.

The respect for this album being from 1981 and considered gothic rock is a bit tame forty years later. The campiness of the 80s, and the weird disco inspirations of the 70s make for an interesting set of grooviness that makes the sound of this album not as dark as gothic has become understood to be in the 21st century. That being said, if for purely historical reference this album is an education in observation of how far music has come.

There is no denying that the Beatles were the best among their contemporaries, even with plenty of fanfare to go around with the British Invasion and all. That is about it, though. The respect and acknowledgment of their success and how great they were is well-deserved, but their music is by and large over-hyped. Not over-rated, but over-hyped. Would this reviewer have preferred to miss out the Beatles? No, but the premise of this review is whether or not this album should precede death, and that answer is "no" but with an open mind there is nothing to regret here. Happy and cheerful dispositions in their earlier works such as this album are an experience to enjoy, a worthy trip into the music of the 60s where lots of change both societally and musically contributed heavily what we have today. However, that is about it, it is a good album with a shiny disposition.

The instrumentation is so good, the groove is so nice, the kind of thing worth listening to, even if Tom Waits interrupts it, and poorly at that. Tom Waits is the villain in this album.

"Cherub Rock" is hard to beat as one of the best opening songs for an album. It could be argued that the order of play for an album, especially with years of hindsight, can inform on how an album's long-term popularity will fare. This album is a fair example of that, but more importantly it leaves an indelible mark that the Smashing Pumpkins should they maintain this particular sound, could form their own niche in the hard rock genre. History will tell us they did just that, as well as evolve into more indie/experimental, along with a dabble into the nu metal scene, but where this album shines is that it serves as the definitive Smashing Pumpkins album to bring their evolution back to earth. While the album contains hits like "Cherub Rock", "Today" and "Disarm" it also has tracks (like any good album should) that are best discovered off the air. "Hummer" is an example of that. All the grittiness of the album is capped with some of the band's more introspective sounds, introducing a particular beauty amidst the heavy distortion that ends in a jam session with melodic bass, accompanying a softer dare say lovely electric solo, that leads into "Rocket" picking up the distortion but not forgetting the solemnity of its previous track in spite of its higher energy, leading right into the angsty impact of "Disarm". Saving the reader from a track by track tour, what this album does well is, and what any album should do well, is offer a complete experience devoid of throwaway tracks. Listeners can in some cases, but mostly subconsciously detect where a band is sort of phoning it in, which is why a lot of a band's earlier work gets touted so highly when the love for the music has remained novel. If this album had any cons, it comes at the expense of being 99% an innocuous listen that parents or children can remain ignorant of in spite of some heavy feelings expressed lyrically. In the digital age, the visibility of what is being listened to is much more than "Track 11" on a dashboard or mobile device, and so while an album is a personal listening experience the honest truth is that moments for that are increasingly rare. Why does that matter? In truth it does not for listening on one's own, however part of what makes this album so great is that what would have been a perfect journey gets a slightly interrupting turn of subject matter that seems a bit out of place. While such deviation can snap a listener out of a rut, this review just does not find a way to justify that here. Does it make the album regrettable? Absolutely not as there are more heavy subject matter that could make this discussion, so that should not be the takeaway here.

Van Halen has definitely earned a certain status among the rock genre, the kind where one does not have to like them in order to acknowledge their contributions to music and rock in particular. Van Halen managed a push from the late 70s that ended up becoming a defining sound for stadium rock for over a decade. This self-titled debut is probably as good as it gets for any band in any genre, to hold up for as long as it does through so many evolutions of trends and approaches to rock. Guitar work here makes it so difficult to believe that they would get even better at it years and years into their careers. This is a great rock album, decent writing, great composition, and with a happy/playful disposition that encourages the listener to have some fun. Work on the car, go work out, throw a pool party, etc.

There is no surprise that this album is not more universally loved, it really is nothing spectacular, but it finds a way to stick around. It deserves to be listened to and the band deserves some place in one's memory. It is hard to say other than that nothing about the album was so incredible as to have made massive impact, but the effect of this album is much more subtle, where the notes tend to hit well after the songs have concluded. It is an album that while it is playing the songs and the journey have little to no meaning, but when the album is over there is a slight shock and even disappointment that it is over. Musically, the idea of country-rock is compelling, the energy of rock is there, but the simplicity of country also comes through. Perfect for a chill album, and interesting enough to pay attention. This is actually a fine album, maybe not groundbreaking or anything, but it just has this aura of importance as though because it exists, so does the genre. It is also a weird happenstance where the album name competes in noteworthiness against the band name.

Solo artists and their idiosyncrasies tend to be a divisive element for this reviewer, and John Cale is not an exception to this. In fairness, the approach to this album was skeptical and assumed just another album to sort of power through, but this album carried some surprising elements in particular how melodic it was. Lyrically, the writing is actually good in the sense that it seems appropriately artful welcoming interpretation rather than nonsensical drivel that spawns arguments over bad coffee with posers. Where this album falls short has more to do with how not every album is destined for widest acclaim, no matter how well they are produced. This album has the feeling of being a one-off labor of love that binds itself to its place in history without any ambition to have significant lasting effect beyond the era it was made.

This review is not sure that punk can be enjoyed carte blanche. In researching the album, the history and personal experiences of the band itself are interesting, but whether or not they inform an enjoyable musical experience that is necessary prior to passing is debatable. Part of making punk meaningful is making it sound like something someone may want to listen to in the first place. Sure, the album is rather diverse in its sounds that go beyond punk, and for that there is respect in adding some diversity to the genre. If it is just for the album itself and the circumstances during its creation where "Sacred Love" is essentially phoned in from the local pen vocals, well that is just a spectacle and not enough to score highly.

The cool thing about going through these albums that have impacted history is that one can encounter an album from 1972 that would arguably carry itself in the 21st century. While the album does not hit particularly hard or profound, it is a testament to Deep Purple that they were doing this music in 1972. The old scripture from Ecclesiastes in which its author laments that 'there is nothing new under the sun' rings all the more true here and while trends and styles may certainly change, a decent album at any point in history is a decent album at any point in history.

While nearly all of us are likely to prefer having the ability to see, we would still be remiss in noting the heightened sense that Stevie Wonder undoubtedly expresses in his music. The cerebrally disciplined lyrics, the depth of his compositions, all could be played by any musician. However, what Stevie Wonder brings to the listener is an intangible experience of the man's soul.

Middle to late 90s alternative, hard rock, metal, nu metal, whatever this is, has the gift of a weird nostalgia where it is all familiar, but with a touch of regret. However, as with a lot of things that are given to nostalgia, there is little to no shame to treat as a guilty pleasure when listening by yourself. Unlike their contemporaries in the alternative/nu metal scene, this album would include a DJ and is probably why this album even made it onto the list for that little bit of eclectic-ness. Add to that Incubus taking some meaningful detours in a song like "Drive" that demonstrate that the band is little bit more than guitars and drums at a time where that was the formula for alternative/nu metal/whatever this is. This is just a good, perhaps even great album that stands out from what a lot of people felt at the time was a selling out to mediocrity. All that to say, that perhaps this album earned its place on 1001 because of how it stood out even from among its Family Values Tour contemporaries in that most people probably will not remember Incubus being a part of that, and for good reasons.

This album is incredibly dark, but not in a way that is without some kind of light. The sheer contemplativeness in the lyrics, the droning on and on of low notes, the sound is that of a man taking inventory of his final breaths. The album is dark, it is sad, and yet somehow there is a sense of learning, a feeling that as listeners this needed to happen. It did, and there is a gratefulness here whether a person was a fan of Cohen's career or not. It was poetry, and seemingly without the bougie pretentiousness that seems to infect most singer-songwriters that feel like they should be more famous than they are.

The album that brought us "Sympathy For The Devil" is sort of where The Rolling Stones cemented their legacy. At this point, their consistent offerings and evidential openness to evolve and mature seems to have granted them a clear path forward, and even at 50 years later, their popularity and generally positive nostalgia makes it true.

Jazz is not the preferred music of this reviewer, but nevertheless to this project one must remain true. Unlike some of the other jazz encountered on this journey, this album contains soulful melodies, sensical drumming, and more enjoyability than the super technical show-off albums that were likely not produced for this listener. Those get the respect they deserve, as does this one, but where this one does better is that it has an accessible vibe. The invitation to relax and let the music do the rest is clear and enticing. It then delivers. Jazz music makes a lot of promises in the vein of "trust me the music is good" and while the collective brains of humans can trust that on a superficial level, jazz might be the only genre where a person can truly appreciate it for what it is, but finds listening to it to be a repulsive experience. Except here, this album carries with it a playful tone where perhaps the quartet was content in each other's company, and this album exudes a certain sense of humility where it truly wants the listener to enjoy it but will not be offended if they do not.

This album is quite tolerable for being Elvis Costello, but the credit here will go to The Attractions for that. There is nothing remarkable about this album for this listener, but to retain a good mood after a listen says enough.

Breathy vocals but with warm sounds, and what would eventually be a predictable beat that defined early to mid 90s, PT&B could make the argument for having done all of it first. The album is not so spectacular, nor is it boring or bad. Music can be so middle of the road during the beginning of new trends, and this could just be some of the best of that.

Part of going through this list is learning how there is always someone or a band that did a thing first or at the least, earlier than when "it" became a thing. Alternative gained a significant popularity for many listeners during the 1990s but when this album was released in 1988, it forces those same listeners to go further back into the genre's history. This album makes 1988 feel very 1998. The change in sound makes Sonic Youth seem younger than they actually are, but by 1988 this was their fifth album. By the time the genre started to hit fever pitches in the mid-90s, the assumption is that these guys appeared out of nowhere, but this has been there the whole time.

The language barrier forces a bit of research into this band's significance. American listeners en masse do not really take a look at why a band may exist, or what the bands draw their inspirations. More significant, is that Songhoy Blues still manage to keep the blues a bit bright despite the fact their story's backdrop is the risk of religious/ethnic cleansing in their home country of Mali. Let's talk about the music, the beats have that "African" tempo, some of the singing styles have that tribal chant feel with the repetition one would expect from a cultural event. What is incredible is that Songhoy Blues capture these styles, and wrap it all up in the blues. Truly, a remarkable production bridging their culture to match the sound palate of the West and raising further awareness of some of the political/religious conflicts, an example of where music's power is being used for good.

Melodically driven electric guitars, carrying that grunge heritage, the kind of music that a punk artist would make if they were a bit happier... the album is every bit 90s alternative. Bright but still a bit rebellious, driven hard, but enjoying the straightaways, there is a reason that the 90s resounded so well with listeners who were still old enough to feel a bit disenfranchised by electronically dominated 80s. The album is not so special however, no profound elements found here, but where this album really makes an impact is how it makes the listener feel. It is a break from the complex, a psychological reset letting the brain do easy math by reciting tables. Those are educational reasons to agree with the album being on this list.

Vocally, there's some hint of the same back-of-the-mouth-bounce-from-the-roof Curt Smith (which can be traced back to the Beatles) but musically this album is everywhere in both good and bad ways. Starting with the good, the mix of instruments and callback to the rock of the 60s make for a 'modern' take on the genre, which is great for 1986. "Season Cycle" is a fair example in a song that one could expect to hear from the B-sides of a Beatles album, or a forgotten Paul McCartney experiment. As far as interesting songs, "1000 Umbrellas" takes the podium for this. Bright, a bit funky, it stands out and prevents the album from being monotonous or held prisoner by a decade. The bad, and this is subjective of course, is that the album is quite literally everywhere. There is not really a theme, or any kind of pattern that an album can usually convey. It is quite literally an album of songs, rather than a cover to cover story. Maybe this is where XTC only enjoyed moderate success here, in that the album just lacked something to really grab onto. Unless a song is particularly exceptional, it is hard to buy an album without at least one or two non-negotiable songs. Objectively, this is album is really good work and if listened to as a compilation, could even be called excellent. The problem is that realizing this could be too little too late for a lot of listeners. "Another Satellite" is a great song and probably the most identifiable as being an 80s sound consistent with the British offerings the world would get a la Tears for Fears, arguably the reason why XTC gets undeservedly, yet understandably overlooked. Until we get to "The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul" which seems to rudely interrupt the non-existent monotony by introducing a tone change entirely. The best news is that this album scores 3/5 in that it makes a case for being on this list, but the not so great news is that should it ever get bumped in favor of some other album the protest would probably be minimal.

This band is perhaps the best example of being before their time. Matching the energies of 90s rock in the 80s leaves the listener somewhat puzzled. Growing up in the late 80s, early 90s, having friends who are fans of Sonic Youth as sixth and seventh graders, who were also fans of up and coming Smashing Pumpkins, the thought never crosses the mind at that age that Sonic Youth is in fact, an 80s rock band. Fast forward to present, it becomes clear that Sonic Youth with already a decade of music at the helm, transcended the musical shift of the decade where we gave up the over-processed synths and stadium glam, but somehow everything the early 90s came to love, had been there the whole time already in Sonic Youth.

This album seems to have snuck up on society, and for good reason. Where the industry for female singers/entertainers tend to be strained through the pop-genre where hopefully a label can extrude a symbol, Adele's musical offering took that much more difficult road, of singing songs that undeniably could only be performed with the heart and soul she possesses. Adele is not a dancer, nor does she entertain with any type of pomp and circumstance, she is a modern day crooner. Her voice sounds perfect when maybe it should not, and should she ever sound inconsistent, somehow the listener misheard that. Is Adele perfect? No, but she is quite close. If the listener can bypass the hype that her albums generated and really focus on Adele the singer, there is so much depth and artful observations to make. The album is not a concession in the colosseum, but a rare opportunity to experience something truly great.

Honesty is a good policy for this review and it will certainly ruffle feathers, but blame it on mood or the circumstances of the day where this album raged vibes of a discount Rolling Stones brought to you by Wish. Halfway through, the reviewer can reason with themselves that perhaps they were a bit harsh with that, that The Clash is at the very least more than a bargain bin import of British rebellion. Truthfully, this unpatriotic and unprovoked attack on The Clash could be exactly the kind of thing they love not to care about. Heaven knows that this will likely never reach their eyes and ears, and it also knows that it will make no difference.

The day was a bit cold, clear and sunny but not bright when this album was first listened to. The smooth yet subtle rasp of Norah's voice cuts through the chill, the rich and warmly accompanying music following it, matching it, the backdrop of what ended up being a perfect time to listen. Sappy? Yeah, but that is the vibe. Coming in from the cold and into the lounge. Smoke fills the air, whiskey being swilled, but the heat is on. The album certainly underlines Norah Jones's roots in lounge/jazz music, and she is marvelous at it. Part of what makes this album incredible is that it maintains that smooth energy throughout to where even its more popular track(s) are not creating an impossible shadow to come out of.

This album is token 1980s era albeit with a rebellious pop sort of sound. The pop elements are rough and seemingly without refinement, with Lauper's vocal range being purposely strained at times. In a way this almost comes off as being punk, but then musically, the music is indeed too refined. This contrast works in her favor, where there is pop, but then there is Cyndi Lauper. True to the 80s era, the album has no shortage of ballads with "Time After Time" and "All Through the Night". Ballads and songs of love and angst are sorely missed. So where does this fall as being an album that one should hear before their demise? It makes sense. The 80s had a very pronounced uniformity in music that for those who grew up in it, was rather embarrassing. The change in style, music, etc. going into the 90s was practically an exodus, and it is only thirty years later that the 80s gets nostalgic appreciation, a kind where maybe society should not have been so quick to move on. It was easy to complain about Cyndi Lauper in a world where things seemed less complicated, and more petty in terms of what was happening socially and politically. In this new century however, where everything is complicated and people seem bent on going above pettiness into straight up malevolence, perhaps this look into the past could contain lessons that would be helpful towards how the future can be built.

Muse is what you get when you have musicians make rock music without being rock stars. They are heavy, the vocals are aggressive, the lyrical undertones a bit rebellious, they hit all of the usual points that should make Muse a bit more part of the conversation when it comes to rock, but why do they seem more of an industry phenomenon than they do a publicly consumed one? They are strong in melody and vocals, they hit hard when they should, and they introduce beauty in such a way that it undercuts the rock persona. Aggressive piano, diverse instrumentation, perhaps it sets Muse apart a bit too much, but that is also part of the Muse persona. They might in fact, rock real hard, but they also float lightly at times sinking softly into an emotional depth that other manufactured bands just cannot reach. However, a lot of this just feels really open-ended. Where Muse does not seem to really succeed is in connecting beyond the production and the feel of their music. It justifies the defense of their greatness but when asked to explain why, the answer is elusive, and for a lot of people that is not good enough even when earning 4 out of 5.

Music does often times serve as a vehicle for social change, or to raise certain awarenesses. This album fits that bill and much to its credit. The album is a good listen, and it is evident that talent in the Knowles family runs deep with Solange's soulful delivery. Human themes like happiness, joy, escapism, especially amidst social issue messaging, give the album a direction of sorts for Solange, but ultimately the album is outward and about us. However, whether or not one should hear this before succumbing to mortality is not the resounding 'yes' that this reviewer feels it should be.

Not much to say other than this is the golden era of hip-hop/rap when profundities and intelligent rhymes were given precedence over profanity and the glorification of crime. If this is a hot take, this reviewer does not care. Rap music used to be so much more diverse in its intellect, messaging, and music. The modern mainstream of 2020's amplifies the importance and critical excellence of rap's golden era, and makes that generation as they get older, significant treasures. This album hits all of the bases of that golden era, unapologetically supportive of its positions, light-hearted and fun where it was intended to be, but more importantly accessible to anyone that cares, not dares, to listen.

A welcome departure from the usual fare, this album embodies the best of, and sometimes playful, yet sincerity of 70s soul.

This album was just hard to really get into, with Irish, nay, Celtic punk being a bit of a cultural reach that not even the punk genre could make. Objectively, their aggressive composition as well as on-the-nose lyrics that are really pro-Irish, do fit the punk bill and there is a lot of respect for that to be had. Generally speaking, and with the gift of hindsight, it is not abundantly clear that the complaints and criticism that fueled their contribution to the genre ultimately did anything more than come off as complaints and criticisms. While this may have had local appeal, it bears questioning why this was necessary to hear before death.

The sense of seriousness that this album conveys seems a bit unnecessary, but if taken into through the context of theatricality, the album hits that mark. Skepta himself is a very capable, very brilliant artist. If anyone were to put British/London rap on the map, it is going to be him. Aggressive beats, well-placed melodies, made for a real surprise at how much this album truly can be enjoyed.

A real throwback to the past, this is probably the band's most notable release for long-time pre-Takk fans. Hauntingly melodic, the warm and melancholic tone of this album certainly made an impact in the early 00's as its at-the-time narrow appeal competed with the angst-driven confusion of metal and emo having combined forces for a brief period to create needless arguments of what was what twenty years later. If anything, Sigur Ros offered respite from the stressful chaotic expressions, and instead gave the listeners a subdued chaotic expression. It conveyed control and intentional breathing where the opposite end of the pendulum was more of a pressure valve release. Each having their place pending mood of the listener.

Optimistic, happiness for happiness sake, burgers, shakes, letter jackets, the uncomplicated privilege of the "Happy Days" is captured in this album. Buddy Holly's signature hiccup vocals, and that rockabilly tone of The Crickets is a lost to time genre of music, but maybe that is a good thing? The music while enjoyable feels old and for a different time to the point of putting it on a shelf never to be touched again.

Not only does P-Funk put the funk in funk but he also puts the "fun" in funk. This album is a bit more on the weird and fringe side of things happening during the 60s, but the listener should allow themselves plenty of runway coming down from this listen. The album plays well but unlike some of the other offerings that Funkadelic (or Parliament+Funkadelic) would eventually put out, this one has a bit of ominousness to it that gives it a bitter palette. The funk and the fun are all there, but so is a little bit of weird, enough to throw it off balance a bit, and just enough to miss perfect.

The album was okay in that it was enjoyable and not annoying, but the significance of being on the list is somewhat lost here. In trying to stay true to the project, there is a just a bit of expectation that when an unknown album/band is encountered, that they bring something that makes sense as to why they are here. Maybe there is a piece of history in the band itself that lends to this album's inclusion, but this largely has nothing to with the band as much as the music of the album. Expectations are not believed to be unreasonably high here, but the lack of anything remarkable and the accompanying disappointment in this album calls that into question.

Some bias here, Neil Young has talent, but his contributions always felt a bit "Yeah, but watch what I do." and that puts some strain on what it takes to be a fan of his music. Where many artists define themselves either through their band or by their music, this reviewer has had to sift through more rumor, opinion, good and bad, about the man rather than his actual music. The byproduct of that is that it impacts the way the music is heard/listened to. Is the listener hearing Neil Young's creative contributions or are they listening to the "most selfish" or self-aggrandizing musician ever to join Crosby, Stills & Nash? Either way, this album is par for the course. What value does it provide to be heard before one dies? Not much, really, unless the argument is the reason. Neil Young was at his best, even if at his worst, with Crosby, Stills, & Nash. He may feel as though he has earned the right to be more important than he is, and fans can hold that against him, but objectively speaking he is not that big of a deal. Whatever part he had to play in contributing to the difficulty of his groups to come together harmoniously, those problems were likely there before he was. That having been said, this album is par for a course, and not a prestigious course.

"Yellow Submarine" is a bar song, and no one will convince this reviewer otherwise. The catchiest song however goes to "Eleanor Rigby". This album is the Beatles. They are a known entity, their expectations pretty straight forward. Their popularity very settled, this album is a testament to their growth and evolution as a band, while also spelling the beginning of their arguable descent into artists with solo aspirations, creative differences, and conflicting relationships... and drugs. Granted, the latter might have been more present than anyone cares to admit, but this album shared some of the traits of being experimental and story-telling, almost completely shedding the clean-shaven, well-dressed remnants of early 60s rock that itself was a dying theme from the 50s.

It is likely that music historians are the ones looking at this album with any fondness to make this list. The album itself is good, but not remarkable, it is a generally good experience in listening that begs why Big Star was never as prominent as their contemporaries. There is probably a way to blame Neil Young for this.

This dual album does indeed belong on this list. Big Boi and Andre 3000 are the hip hop/funk duo that the early 00's needed. It can be argued that they were instrumental in making rap and funk part of the mainstream by making the genres fun again.

First exposure to the Pixies was the final scenes of the film Fight Club with "Where is my Mind?" -- where this album is several years prior to that experience, it is similar. There is a certain weirdness, but not too weird, enough to keep it interesting but not enough to make it something to dislike. In a way that spites the weird vibe, is what just seems like really careful melody and very well crafted songs. The album does not go too far in any direction but does not imply any restraint in doing so. In repeated listens, the listener might be able to detect restraint but somehow the threat that this band could just really do whatever it wants adds a bit of suspense.

The album that carries "Superstition" has aged so well. While the aforementioned reigns supreme as one of the more recognizable songs in Stevie Wonder's career from late night classic radio, to his performance on Soul Train, this album carries the brilliant energy of that song. The album is groovy, full of rich melody, and probably one this reviewer's favorite love songs in "You and I". The younger generations might recognize that from Michael Bubles cover, a very good one, but Stevie Wonder's performance of it carried a different weight. Great album, great musician/artist, perhaps even becoming a lost or forgotten art in 2024.

As far as pop albums go, the inclusion of this album makes sense because of how a Scottish quartet does everything possible to avoid being Scottish, and with that some pretty incredible mash-ups of genre bring a disturbance to expectations. However, none of that makes the album a really good one. Weird albums require luck and great timing and that seems to be the case here in 1982, but not the case from 1983 onward.

Safe to say that no one is as celebrated as Frank Sinatra in the world of entertainers and crooners. The man could dance, he could sing, and he had the charm to go long with that. While his foray into movies was moderately successful, it is his music and singing that remains a consistent addition to ambiance, or feel-good nostalgia. This album is no exception, except for including the hits "I've Got You Under My Skin" and "You Make Me Feel So Young" which we can hear from nearly any movie based in or taking place in Las Vegas, or any background to a romantic comedy. Mr. Sinatra's cultural significance plays a part here in qualifying for this book, and for that the reviewer is in agreement.

Janis Joplin was very special, her early departure certainly a sad one. The album had some posthumous elements apparently, with a track completely instrumental as she did not do the vocals for it before her passing. Knowing this, the track carries a sense of homage to her. Quite appropriate. The album itself is full of effort the listener can hear. "Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose." featured in the song "Me and Bobby McGee". Janis certainly seemed to approach her vocals in this way, where she repeatedly belts out her lyrics, giving it everything she knows to give. Where she sounds smooth and clear, could then go to a lovely raspiness that is filled with personality. This is very respectable and a testament to her talent as a performer. This is a good album, and the world can find reason to be grateful for it.

As far as 80s era albums go, this is pretty good. The instrumentation still has elements of real on it with the electronic contributions (particularly synth) seemingly used as a part of a whole rather than dominating the soul of the album. The vocals are very smooth, lacking the embarrassing squeal that plagued the decade. It would be unsurprising if Seal drew inspiration from this album. Overall, there are times when listening to 80s era music feels pleasantly nostalgic and this is honestly one of them.

Perhaps the current era works against making this album something special. This was an unremarkable listen even though the music was enjoyable to listen to. Even paying attention to the hits of this album, begs the question as to why should this album be heard before death? The conundrum is that it does not hurt to hear this album, but also whether or not it really has that value brings about more questions. It is reasonable that this album can be a recommended listen, but it is questionable as whether or not it should be.

Pre-Young Crosby, Stills & Nash this album sort of puts into perspective that CSN could have stood quite well on their own. The feeling of this album without Neil Young is that it is a more true representation of the supergroup as originally intended. All of this is to say that this album is just proof that Young's part-time inclusion in hindsight did not have the impact that Mr. Young would prefer people believed it would. Mr. Young's popularity at the time certainly may have lent some star-power to the band, but when it is about the music, there really is not a remarkable difference in their evolution with and without him. This is not to say he does not deserve recognition for his contributions in subsequent releases, but it is to say that he should be the one that is grateful to have been a part of all this. Overall, this is a good album. It has great chill, and the rhythm and melodies are great for the background and certainly a trip down memory lane to get those nostalgic vibes of their era. So-called supergroups can be big on expectation and fizzle out when they do not meet them, but CSN(Y) deserves to be recognized for thirty years of working together.

This album sounds like they started a live show and then just kept sampling themselves into some weird oblivion by the end of it. This however, ended up not being something to get mad about. It is easy to start off critical about this album, but it wins the listener over, if not just from sheer curiosity. Most electronic music has this lazy vibe where the artist finds a groove, and then lives off it for several minutes. This album has elements of that, but in a progression reminiscent of Bolero, there is a constant building going on, enough to remain the same but enough new elements to keep it interesting. Electronic music tends to fall short of personality, and perhaps that is the draw behind it to go mindless and let 1s and 0s dictate the flow of one's life, however Animal Collective ups the game where Moby became stale. Taking a more pop approach, and putting a bit more thump into the electronica, Animal Collective in a way makes all these familiar sounds and their shortcomings into something unfamiliar, perhaps a bit fresh, a surprisingly approachable album.

This reviewer is not fluent in French at all. However, this is French hip-hop/rap and if there was a language whose pronunciation structure was conducive to complicated sounding bars, this is it. It is almost so that in order to be a good rapper, one should do it in French. The music behind the lyrics is more or less consistent with the era in which this album was released so there is not much if anything to really criticize. The overall vibe musically is that this is perhaps some of the best that era had to offer. This deviation from American rap is agreeably worthy of hearing before one's mortal conclusion.

This reviewer balks at the singer/songwriter genre, mostly because the experience with them so far in this 1001 journey has been mostly a disappointment, infuriatingly so, with rare exceptions. The genre seems to be out of balance with the singer vs. songwriter class. Some artists clearly have a lyrical gift, but that should have been a poem, not a song, because the song is terrible. Others, the music is the only saving grace, the singer should keep their involvement to a minimum. Then you have this gem of an album inject some hope into what has been (and will be) a pessimistic approach to this genre. Joan Armatrading balances the singer/songwriter role so well. Her voice is articulate and smooth, the music and lyrics both have resolve letting the listener feel the psychological excitement and relief of new beginnings and closures. She and the music are partnering together, complementing each other beautifully rather than in chaotic contention, almost as religious as a call and response. Where this album does not get the elusive 5 is that it does hit a plateau, albeit at a high peak, and it lacks a certain punch to get it to that level, but it still does get a very deserving 4 as an exceptionally brilliant album, by a remarkable artist.

A mainstay in the world of music, The Cure is one of those bands whose mark on the 80s varies in its appearance. For some, they were a punky upstart and for others an 80s rock band that flirted with being a pop artist. This album though has a bit of emotional depth. Some words to describe that are "dark" but that seems more of a comparison to their earlier work. If anything the album sounds like they took their work seriously and put a bit of their desire to be taken seriously into the sound. This much is evident from the "dark" and pensive first track "A Reflection" and yet we fly straight into a rhythm-heavy "Play for Today" where that dark veil is lifted and we are given a rock album with evidence of their punk roots in their mostly linear compositions, but with flashes of intentional melody. The produce of music in 1980s would end up being the subject of much debate, with few brights spots, and a lot of disappointments, but what can be said of The Cure, is that they made it through here.

This album was a first time listen, but as it played through so many familiar melodies cause to question if it really was the first time to listen. It is not very often that an album has this many tunes used in commercials. Whether or not a good album is made because of that, is a debate though. Overall this album was an incredible experience because of the nostalgia it produces, but this reviewer was forced to imagine that everything was the first time, that familiarity did not count, and take the album for what it is and how MGMT intended it. That is impossible here. This album really produced jingles and marketing background music that has invaded the psyche of probably untold millions of people who has ever watched television. Musically, the album is really good. It is enjoyable, the songs are catchy and they maintain a great presence, which again is a callback to how engrained some of these melodies are in commercial culture. While some contrarians may feel this is a sell-out move, an objective look at this album validates why this is even on 1001, and that is people should know sometimes the music behind the ad, and that sometimes ad agencies make great decisions.

Those who appreciate a little bit of quirk, and are willing to embrace showmanship and intentional style are going to find a way to love this album. There is not much else to say about Talking Heads that has not been said already. The below is taken from a previous review of another album, and the sentiment remains. Musically, the album doesn't have the disarray or chaotic elements usually associated with anti-establishment expectations. The compositions are well-timed, clean, and downright professional at times while still maintaining that blatant disavowal of what could only be described as mainstream. Vocals, while weird and, again, seemingly about nothing, astonishingly fit. Fun, immediately gratifying, welcomely disruptive, are just a few ways to describe how this album is overall. No commitment required to actually listen to it, but interesting enough to hear it all the way through rather than skipping.

The album starts the listener in a Mexican desert town with a run down cantina that looks to have had its fair share of abuse, but if one can place the initial impression behind them, the bar is well-stocked and the cocktail menu is surprisingly diverse. The servers are attractive, and the vibe is fun. It is as though one walked into a speakeasy with a desolate front. This album would make such a great change in gear on any music rotation, and that is high praise from this reviewer.

This album is not a big deal up front, but somehow it should be. First playthrough is a lot of the usual sounds coming out of the 90s, with Star Wars sounds throughout being the outstanding addition as well as tracking with the album's 1977 title. Second playthrough, the listener may start to realize that the album is not making them mad. Casual catches of the ear with interjected Star Wars noises start to become a game of how many can be noticed during a listen. Third playthrough, the listener might start needing to think of something clever to review this album with, but they better listen to the album one more time. Fourth play, it is time to move on from this, but this is a great listening album. Rhythms and melodies are catchy, and the lyrics and overall sound are definitely an appeal to every listener, whether fully invested or just needing something cool to listen to.

Jazz is a minimum effective dose. Like other jazz albums, this has lots of groove, lots of chaotic jazz, thankful it was a short album because if it were any longer, the rating would just keep going down.

The album creates an intimate experience encapsulated by Fela Kuti's high energy, the band's tight performance, and there is even a drum solo tribute. While jazz is a divisive genre for this reviewer, this type of big band, big brass jazz with a touch of African cadence is quite different. The unity, the singular experience that Fela Kuti and the band put together is equal parts professionalism and intentional fun. In the spirit of whether or not someone should listen to this before they die, the answer is not as divisive as American jazz is. Fela Kuti hits differently, and it hits all the right notes.