NO! Just fucking no! Every algorithm in existence suggests that my indie-pop, singer-songwriter soul should love Wilco, and worship this goddamn album. I've tried. I really have. Took a long hiatus from it. Trying again in good faith via this site. Just a whiney, whiney nasely warble dragging my ears across a very lame, non-energetic blob of dull. Fucking no. Wilco annoys me.

This is one of those LPs that is always on your backlog somewhere to dive into "some day." And then when you do, you realize you've been listening to this album your whole life. It's full of MJ cuts that are seered into the fabric of anything R&B, funky or soul that has appeared for 40+ years after Michael Jackson burst out of the family and into the universe with this album. It's a vibe, an atmosphere. You won't get your mind blown but you're dancing and you don't care.

Even for fans of big band jazz, or anyone old enough to have this sound firmly in their cultural DNA, this album is truly a nuclear level American classic, worthy of the album cover (if you're willing to dismiss the real world associations with the US putting the globe on a permanent killswitch state). What's amazing to me is how in 40 minutes and 11 songs, Basie and band managed to hit such peaks and lightning strikes of individual performances while also effortlessly soaring through a wide horizon of dynamics and moods and emotions in the selections. Motherfucking off the charts 5+++++

Songs... is a classic example of 2nd album syndrome. It's easily forgettable even for Talking Heads fans, stuck in between '77 and Remain in Light. It's all relative, but this might well be the last Talking Heads album you need to care about; you're never going to start your TH journey here. It's important in the discography because it's the first collaboration with Brian Eno, and establishes the world-funk style that is at the heart of all the brilliance that came from the band after. But it was definitely all after. Listening again, I think the letdown is the songwriting on this album, largely forgettable. Consider that the only real standout track with lasting flavor is a cover tune, Take Me to the River. But again, it's relative and the worst Talking Heads album is still something miles above most of the albums in the 1001. And by the way, all credit to Eno, when are the rest of us just going to come out and admit that David Byrne hasn't written a decent song since he didn't have Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz in his corner?

OK, I was prepared to respect this album and the group for lighting the fire that lit up "the other guys and gals" in my 8th grade class in 1979. And I was prepared to re-appreciate the kitsch and glam-rock aspect the Five brought to the disco-rap transition period. And that was about it. But after the 3rd or 4th repeat listen, I found myself actually digging it deep. It's a piece of history,but somehow as fresh as a sunrise in Central Park. Can you dig it?

I was already mad crazy on U2 when this album debuted and it's one of the few musical moments for me where I have a sharp, distinct memory of counting down and listening when my local station broadcast With or Without You for the first time. The album is truly All Killer No Filler, and probably my vote for Brian Eno's peak production effort. It's hard for me to separate this album from all the personal moments it had for me at the right time of my life. But listening fresh years later, it's only gotten more monumental .

I wasn't ready for this one. Like most people, I associated Culture Club with the iconic persona of Boy George, a couple of sweet MTV videos, and generally appreciated them for a couple of light, poppy hits. But listening to this album in full and on repeat, I'm realizing there was so much more under the surface here. The 80s sound is known for a lot of kitschy reverb snare and overly produced synth, but in the midst of that, we had bands like The Jam, Style Council and Culture Club that just took pop seriously enough to treat it right. This LP is packed with quality cuts and covers an incredible range of styles: disco, jazz, soul, reggae, bossanova...each one executed with skill and love. Very colorful and I'm happy to be surprised by this one.

I suppose it's nice, and pleasant background for doing the dishes or sitting in the yard. But this is what I would consider a classic "snapshot" album, like that one photo you have of some place you were at a couple of decades ago that sits in a drawer or a box in the closet somewhere. It brings a smile when you come across it during a rummage but it's not impactful enough for you to actually scan or frame it or make it accessible anywhere on a regular basis. Dylan, The Band, Jon Mitchell, these are all artists whose music has just as much kick and electricity today as the years they debuted. Neil Young is a Canadian troubadour who successfully built a career as a tourist of blues and folk. All respect for that, but he never struck me as someone who managed to rise above it creatively, despite a couple of tunes that are. Classic Rock radio staples. Back in the box!

I appreciate the background story and I play piano a bit. But I don't think I'm up to actually commenting on this one. I will just enjoy soaking in its dances and rhythms whenever the time is right.

Dang. I was obsessed with a string poppy-punk story telling UK bands from The Kinks to XTC to the Kaiser Chiefs. How did I miss out on Supergrass? In any case, I'm here now.

Minutemen > fIREHOSE

An album made for 13 yr old boys. And I mean in the most emphatically positive way. Rock on, Mr Cooper.

Another one of those iconic albums that exist in the fringes until you actually give it the focus it deserves and realize it's been in your heart through the airwaves from...ever. Astonishing voice and amazing display of song writing.

Not my favorite Beatles album, but still like a 7.5

Pixies hadn't made much of an impression on me in their heyday, but giving them full attention here really raised them up. Honestly don't know that they are that distinctive from the big soup of the pop-punk 90s surge but I enjoyed the full album.

She's skilled, no doubt. Good production but not a lot of depth in lyrics or style. She's got to learn to dig deeper and take more chances, for this to be a good LP as opposed to a place to find one or two standout tracks.

A couple of catchy tunes I'll save to my Playlist but other than that, he's more of a footnote than a musical milestone.

Not a fan. I respect their place in Grunge story but beyond Nirvana that whole sound is just a bland heap of sameness for me. Last gasp of over-testosteroned, warbly rockers who grew up watching too many Whitesnake videos in the 80s.

NO! Just fucking no! Every algorithm in existence suggests that my indie-pop, singer-songwriter soul should love Wilco, and worship this goddamn album. I've tried. I really have. Took a long hiatus from it. Trying again in good faith via this site. Just a whiney, whiney nasely warble dragging my ears across a very lame, non-energetic blob of dull. Fucking no. Wilco annoys me.

Historic and influential.