It's a quick shot, barely ten seconds. "I'm a fool-to-dooo your-dir-ty work, oh yeaaaaah! I don't want-to-dooo your dirty-work, no mo-o-ore." It's nighttime, the radio plays an old Steely Dan hit, and Tony Soprano is singing at the wheel as he drives somewhere. The endearing yet sociopathic mob boss has the same bored, weary eyes as ever, but that scene is probably the closest thing in the whole series to a moment showing him having the time of his life. Tony knows them oldies-but-goldies standards. And he knows it's always deeply pleasurable to sing along to one of those as they pop up between Journey and Cream on the car's radio. The thing is, would Tony Soprano enjoy *Countdown To Ecstasy* in the exact same way he enjoyed the early hits from Steely Dan's debut, *Can't Buy A Thrill*? Probably not. Very much a transitional effort leading the L.A. band towards the more refined soft-rock soundscapes for which they'll later be known for, *Countdown To Ecstasy* is maybe too sophisticated and left-field for Tony's more immediate, impulsive, 'it's-either-hit-or-miss', tastes. Not that Steely Dan would have cared, at least at the time. Having dumped co-singer/songwriter David Palmer (of "Dirty Work" fame) for this second album, now penning cryptic lyrics with a somewhat dystopian flavor (in keeping with the William Burroughs influence on their band's name), and electing for an ethereal cover that would nicely fit in Brian Eno's discography, Donald Fagen and Walter Becker took very much of a gamble here, even if the years that have passed since 1973 might have erased the extent in which those risks were actually *that* bold. First listens today indeed suggest Steely Dan was mostly a band perfectly content to rely on their earlier charts success and technical prowess to write and perform quite innocuous songs ranging from old rock'n'roll, country and rhythm and blues. Admittedly, they did spice things up by adding a fashionable form of prog-rock once in a while. If only said prog-rock didn't sound so irremediably tame compared to the Floyd or Can, this could have well turned up as a lengendary endeavor. Not in here, though, unfortunately. Such harsh preliminary assessment might not be the full picture, however. As subsequent spins soon reveal, this missed opportunity might actually be a blessing in disguise for amateurs of truly *original* sounds. And playing a huge part in this overall originality, you have the jazz inflexions throughout the album, either in the instrumentation (those vibes in "Razor Boy") or the chord changes, bringing a welcome uneasiness and chiaruscoro ambiguity to the whole shebang, very much in line with the dystopian atmoshere already evoked earlier. Opener "Bodhisattva" is a very striking example of such artful sprinklings. Starting as an old R'n'R standard not sounding too fresh or daring these days, with a vocal hook even bordering on parody or muzak, the track's five minutes still fly by, thanks to those unexpected chord changes, along with slyly imaginative bridges and a synth part whose glossy crispness does a great job as it finally circles around you like a flock of pixellated sparrows, forcing you to let your guard down in front of their aerial spectacle. If this is elevator music (make no mistake, it very much *is*), this might be the sort of elevator music you can hear in Stephen King's "dark tower", granted such tower has an elevator in the first place (can't recall, does it?). The irony that you felt under the surface at the start of the song ends up screaming at you toward its end, and quickly, you begin to reconsider how performative the track really is. Is this stuff *cheesy* music? Or is it a *semblance* of cheesy music, with a more sophisticated agenda behind it, even more shrewd and cunning given that Steely Dan have more or less managed to hide their true game until the very last minute? Retrospectively, it seems that Fagen and Becker have always aimed at straddling that fine line, being the sly, witty bastards that they are. Fans sometimes see in Steely Dan things that non-fans are unable to imagine or even comprehend while listening to their music for the first time. Sometimes it just takes one weird, off-kilter note in a guitar or keyboard solo to change the picture, as in the hard-bop but otherwise predictable and standardized "Your Gold Teeth". Other times, you find yourself being entranced by the implacable grooves of the rhythm section, even though the rest of the instrumentation sounds a little too nice and dandy overall. Not to say 'bland'. You know this is imaginative writing here, no matter what. Too bad you can't *feel* it sometimes. As a consequence, one could easily argue that the prog-rock flavors in Steely Dan's music would have gained from being a little more pronounced than they actually were. Or that a true manifestation of genuine psychedelia during those very specific forays would have helped them faring better today, at least. But maybe it is unfair to compare apples and oranges, and expect from Fagen and Becker a program that was far too much in line with their contemporary day and age--it's a program the band visibly had no genuine interest in, for better or for worse. And ironically, Steely Dan's overall sound was nothing but ahead of the curve in 1973, foretelling the set of styles countless "mainstream" soft rock bands would embrace later on, from Eagles to Supertramp (not to mention other 'neat-sounding' acts even further down the line, during the eighties--Dire Straits, anyone?). Yet there is *another* layer of irony to point out, at least from our vantage point in the 21st century, and this one is far more cruel than the first. None of those groundbreaking aspects objectively present during the course of *Countdown To Ecstasy* are easily discernible today, after all that has transpired since. The music is good in this album, there's no arguing about that. But whether it is still *relevant* remains to be seen. A good chunk of the tracks are saving the record from complete stylistic oblivion though, first because Steely Dan's pop-leaning, post-modernist agenda actually does conceptual wonders from time to time. Or, on the contrary, because the band *also* knew how to drop that agenda in key points of the record so as to focus on the music first and foremost. The mock-country highlight "Pearl Of The Quarter" for instance, is a convincing exercise in style, with its evocative albeit over-the-top steel guitar. And "Show Biz Kids" is a somewhat linear, overlong jam that's probably a little too on-the-nose, but it's stiil part of that interesting postmodern group of songs, thanks to its wry lyrics about poverty (and the fact that "Steely Dan T-shirts" won't save you from it). If nothing else, such attempts are showing how smart and topically meaningful the band actually intended to be. And in the more straightforward tracks, you have rhythm 'n blues homages such as "My Old School", whose Motown-sounding backing vocals suffuse much needed life to the proceedings. But most of all, you have two stunners, not hits per se, but still the liveliest tracks of the whole program. As a centerpiece of the record, "The Boston Rag"' evokes a sense of nostalgia only belied by the animated performance that supports it. And closer "King Of The World" is an apt, skittering conclusion for the countdown uttered in the album's title, a promised "ecstasy" here tainted by heartbreaking descriptions of a post-nuclear America where said "kings of the world" are actually none but a scattered group of survivors slowly dying from radiation poisoning. From the barren realm of The Dark Towers, we've plunged right into the waste lands of The Stand, but the overall effect is the same. And yes, the shakespearian references do help set the appropriate, despondent mood, finally revealing that the titular countdown was nothing but a countdown to nuclear annihilation. I bet not a lot of listeners saw that one coming, whether today or at the time--even though the cover was an ominous sign of the disaster about to surge. *Gravity's Rainbow*'s Thomas Pynchon, would surely have appreciated such a nice touch here. Wasn't Pynchon's mammoth published in 1973 anyway? If a rock album cover could have been used for thsi novel, the one of *Countdown To Ecstasy* would have done a fine job paying homage to its grim-but-carnival-like contents, if not the music itself. To be honest, however, all the tragic post-apocalyptic memorabilia displayed by Fagen in that song is NOT the first reason why the latter should be singled out, along with "The Boston Rag". The real reason is simple, as simple as a back-to-basics New Jersey mob boss's playlist. And the reason is that those tracks are catchy and direct enough to allow you to sing along to them, in spite of the other jazzy flourishings out there. This does not lessen the other merits of "King Of The World", and yes indeed, the admirable guitar interlacing in its introduction is still very much in keeping with the other sophisticated arrangements thoughout the album. But here you have that extra cherry on the cake, and you can eat it too: a glorious, roaring, heartfelt, take-no-quarters chorus. Sometimes Tony Sopranos was right, at least when it came to music. It's not always necessary to split hairs if you want to have a good time. Life's too short for this, with or without a nuclear apocalypse looming on the horizon. [[Number of albums I listened to from the list: 3 Albums left to listen to: 998 Number of albums I've found genuinely relevant: 0 Number of different albums you should *probably* listen to before you die: 1 (so counting this one out, maybe) Number of different albums you should *definitely* listen to before you die: 2]

Some people are too smart for their own good. You've probably met those sorts of guys before. They're often sitting in the back of the office or the classroom, having that distanced 'I-can't-be-bothered' stare, idly turning their head towards the urban smog outside the window, as if listening to their own inner teacher or boss instead of the real man in charge. If you're a little intrigued by all that cynical, borderline-nihilistic reserve, you sometimes find yourself talking to such a person during coffee breaks, just to see what they're all about. Soon, however, you realize you won't gain much from the conversation anyway, and often leave that coffee break even more nonplussed than you were before. You admit still being fascinated a little, but the unobtrusive words exchanged on the surface keep on screaming "boredom" to your ears. The only real problem being that you don't know for sure if said boredom actually belongs to that person you talked to, or if it's just *yours*. That bloke is *Modern Life Is Rubbish*-era Damon Albarn. Too smart for his own good, and thereby missing a chance to genuinely impress or fully convince you. Admittedly, this doesn't mean there's absolutely anything Damon and his pals from Blur couldn't say with some sort of force or intent when they recorded their second, aptly-named, album. There is, actually. "For Tomorrow" is nothing but a stellar opener, for example (more on that later), nicely paying homage to a oh-so-brit tradition established by the Kinks--whose shadow obviously looms above the first part of Blur's career (minus-*Leisure*) with decidedly good aftereffects overall. Here the vocal melody floats with a bittersweet, mock-happy-go-lucky charm that belies the existential dread underneath the song itself, and it takes a full string section towards the end of that gem to reveal the full tragedy at hand in that tale about postmodern dread. Following that great introduction, "Advert" is a little punky masterpiece that snarls and rattles the point of the album's title home even better than the opener. The schoolboy's lament "Pressure on Julian", a swampy track that foretells left-field, grungy elements from *Blur* and *13*, owes a lot to Graham Coxon's admirable chops on his six strings, the sort of musical sprinkling that can't hurt a second-tier song. As for "Turn It Up", it is a bouncy pop song that gives some needed levity at the eleventh hour (even though it's no "Song 2" or "Girls And Boys" either). This list of assets could go on, of course. Production is flawless (courtesy of long-time collaborators Steve Lovell and Stephen Street). Arrangements are artful. But are those tracks *memorable*? Do you remember *that* guy from your old classroom now, as well-dressed as he was? Probably not. Let's just hope that lad's nihilistic stance hasn't triggered him to do the worst and harm himself at some later points of his life at least. "He's a twentieth century boy / With his hands on the rails / Trying not to be sick again / And holding on for tomorrow". This is how the album starts, namely as an inverted T-Rex anthem where contemplations about suicide have taken the place of the usual calls to hedonism enacted throughout the history of rock'n'roll. On the same song, Damon tells a little more about the alienated individuals having such self-destructive thoughts: "Jim stops and gets out of the car / Goes to a house in Emperor's Gate / Through the door and to his room / And then he puts the TV on / Turns it off and makes some tea". Vacant life at its most obvious here. See also "Blue Jeans": "Blue, blue jeans I wear them every day / There's no particular reason to change / My thoughts are getting banal, I can't help it". Uh, OK, Damon, we *get* it. Consumer society and constant commodification play their parts gnawing us all into tiny little squibs devoid of all life. But the point is: do *you* have to sound so bored yourself to hammer that idea home? Isn't that overkill? C'mon, chin up. Shake a leg. You're turning into an annoying, humourless slob here, and this might go against your first intent, don't you think? Because... well, yes, duh: *Modern Life Is Rubbish* says it straight right from its title. You can't relax ("Star Shaped"), you're barfing on food and drugs to vent your frustrations out ("Chemical World"), there are leeches in the close-cropped lawns and "eating between meals stifles the appetite". Nice program, right? You also have to deal with publicity sponsors ("Colin Zeal"), militaries ("Sunday Sunday"), or even the CIA agency on "Miss America", an overlong dirge that saps what's left of the album momentum on side 2. This is a record that ends with a song called "Resigned", folks! Even though at that point, we're not necessarily caring any longer either, mind you, as harsh as it sounds to say so. All this performative angst might actually be nothing short of rosy under the sun for amateurs of works driven by wry, pessimistic hot takes about our late capitalistic societies. But the crux of the issue here is that overall, *Modern Life Is Rubbish* is almost a complete misfire on those topics, bordering on self-indulgence in the expression of mundane banalities, and becoming itself the sort of bane that it supposedly tries to tackle in the first place. And in a way, the music itself is burdened by the exact same sort of problems that are plaguing Albarn's lyrical conceits throughout the record. There is no sense of direction to the whole thing. Melodically speaking, some songs, especially those with the most "Britpop" inflexions, appear lively on the surface, but there's none of that catchy *spark* in them, none of the sheer tongue-in-cheek inventivity and directness Blur will become known for in *Parklife* for instance. It is probably no coincidence the latter was released only a year after this one, as if the Essex boys had felt the need to course-correct the many shortcomings witnessed here as soon as possible, before it was too late and they lost that peculiar zeitgeist they were aiming at in that tentative effort here. Likewise, what could pass for melancholy or mystery in some of those songs will be better explored later on, first with "To The End" on *Parklife*, and then further in parts of *The Great Escape*. But mostly, it is during the post-Britpop period that this specific dimension will finally bloom. Before those glorious days ahead, what we have is merely a sketch of the promising future, drawn thanks to a somewhat mechanical hand on auto-pilot. The sarcastic Village Green Preservation Society of days yonder has turned brown, and then bare. Blur still tries to summon its wry, ironic poetry, but their heart's not in it, as if squashed by the weight of their own conceptual pretensions. Fortunately, they found a way out of this conundrum, given that there isn't anything in *Modern Life Is Rubbish* that Blur hasn't done *better* in the three albums that followed it, gving Albarn and company the opportunity to finally have their cakes and eat it too. In those later records (*Parklife*, *The Great Escape* and *Blur*) not only has Blur allowed themselves to grind their axe about the pitfalls of modernity, but this time they also managed to have fun on the wayside. The music there does not merely *snarls*, it also *giggles*, *guffaws* and *rolls on the floor with laughter. Sometimes it also jumpstarts, gets genuinely angry, croons and even cries. In the core of those emotions, commodification and the unavoidable existential responses it triggers in us all are still lying there somewhere, honoring the initial program established in the band's second album. But to target those themes for what they are, you still need to contrast them with a little spice, a little flavour, and it's a lesson Blur has probably learned the hard way through this transitional second LP. Overall, we *do* agree with you, Damon: "modern life is rubbish" indeed. But no one said you *can't* have a wholehearted laugh about it, at least. [Number of albums I listened to from the list: 2 Albums left to listen to: 999 Number of albums I've found genuinely relevant: 0 Number of different albums you should listen to before you die: 2 (including this one)]

Being a native French speaker, I've always been aware of the cultural importance of Jacques Brel, even though as a young and hip amateur of mostly *anglo-saxon* music, I was merely relegating him to a singer for older generations, someone who did not have anything relevant to teach the careless youngster that I was. But now that I've gotten older myself, comfortably lying on the couch of my cozy living-room as I'm writing this feature on my phone, I might obviously know a little better. The question is: why did I *really* change my mind about Jacques Brel? Is it because of my current, somewhat comfortable surroundings that I can fully appreciate *chansons* now? Have I turned into an unapolegetic *bourgeois* in the space of only two decades? Or is all of that irrelevant? If it's because I've turned into a *bourgeois*, the irony is priceless here. Indeed, Brel's wit, sharp eye and acerbic tongue were almost never better channeled than when he used those assets to paint vitriolic portraits of the elder generations of his own time--all those sad, well-off, self-righteous sods never able to admit they cornered themselves into lives ultimately devoid of any meaning. Truth be told, in Brel's songs are *also* other sorts of lessons, though, and ones I could have started learning as a young man. When the Belgian singer depicts younger characters, for instance, his powers of observation are still very much on point, both conveying the humanity and pathetic shortcomings of those characters through the same jeering-yet-elegant wink to his audience. Flawed dunces and endearing dollards can be found in all age groups. And Brel never missed a chance to remind us of this. Of course, there's a third, more elegiac streak running throughout his catalogue of tunes, which gave out all those signature songs most French speakers still remember today. And for those, Brel was as 'emo' as any tortured young rock act can get. Just listen to those tracks. Even if you're not speaking French, you might still sense the emotion seeping through the perfomance itself, if not through the words used (the man was also a fine actor who had learned this secondary trade exclusively through his experience as a performer giving it all onstage). If anything, English-speaking artists with a keen eye for details and an overall flair for the dramatic--artists such as Scott Walker, Nina Simone, David Bowie, Judy Collins or Nick Cave--certainly sensed this emotion we've just mentioned here. Hence their wonderful covers of Brel's *repertoire*. Recorded live in 1964 at the legendary Parisian venue *L'Olympia*, this record, as short as its original version was, does a very fine job displaying the three different streaks of songcraft we've spotted up there. Subsequent CD versions later included parts of the show left out from the original 30-minute album, with Brel staples such as "Les bonbons", "Mathilde", " Les bigotes", "Les bourgeois", "Jef" and "Au suivant". But even without those popular extraneous cuts, this live album is essentially Jacques Brel at his best. "Les vieux" (*Old Folks*), about old-timers waiting for death, is for example one of his cruellest songs, because as heartwrenching and detailed as the lyrics are, they can also elicit many mocking snarls in response. Dark comedy and tragedy go hand in hand throughout the tune, whose chorus revolves about a clock relentlessly counting the seconds left before the final demise, nicely supported by a piano motif insisting on each of those fateful seconds. Musicality is rarely forgotten in Brel's *oeuvre*, as shown in most of those cuts here, even though such oeuvre is first and foremost narrative-driven in nature. Death is also central in two other songs, "Le dernier repas" and "Tango funèbre". The first track pictures the narrator's "last meal" with his entourage, the second depicts his burial, and both are unforgettable lessons in songwriting, ones that Nick Cave, as a connoisseur of Brel's body of work, probably remembered when he penned the similarly-themed "Lay Me Low" for *Let Love In*.  Freeloaders and sycophants shedding crocodile tears unavoidably find their way into the afflicted crowd in those songs, closely watched by Brel's ghost. This makes the titular 'tango' in the second track, already a wonderful piece of music, even more gripping, chilling and wry. Old parasites in funerals aside, younger people are also mocked during the gig, as in "Les Timides" (*Shy people*), where inapt wannabe lovers make fools of themselves under Brel's unforgiving eye ("they just blush and *crawfish*", the singer tells us--yes, "crawfish" is used as a verb here, which is just as grammatically wrong or off-kilter in French as it is in English). And both age groups seem to be derided in "Les jardins du casino" ("In The Casino's Gardens"), a precise study of bourgeois pettiness that goes from micro to macro in its ironic breadth. As great as those tracks are, however, this live album wouldn't be the historical document it is today without two songs counting among the most famous Brel ever penned whenever he decided to dive headlong into full epic scope. The first of those songs, "Amsterdam", was actually never recorded in a studio, so what we have here is the definitive version, and it does not take a seer to understand why this sweeping tale of sailors and whores rubbing shoulders (and more) in the midst of a drunken, lascivious haze didn't need a studio recording after this live capture at the Olympia venue. Brel's voice is incredible here, each and every one of its inflexions adding weight and meaning to the words sung or yelled. And the orchestra supporting that voice is the *coup de grâce*, its head-spinning instrumentation placing you right in the middle of this grotesque waltz of beautiful losers. You can almost see the lights and lanterns of the harbour behind the dancers. In three minutes, you've been to the Netherlands and back, and it's a trip you will never forget. As for the second legendary track, "Le plat pays" (*The Flat Country*), a very personal ode to Belgium--slow, grim and yet quite tender--there *is* a studio version of it, contrary to "Amsterdam". But this live rendition, backed up by strings circling above the desolate land like so many flocks of crows, equals it, if it doesn't actually surpass any other version available today. *Olympia 64* is therefore one of the best entry points into Brel's whole body of work, and as such, deserves to be remembered as the timeless classic that it is. One could argue that studio albums *Ces gens-là*, *N*4 (La valse à mille temps)* or the later rerecording of old songs *Ne me quitte pas* could be equally relevant if you wish to get acquainted with the inspired and inspiring Belgian singer. Either those, or any of the comprehensive compilations sold out there. But if first, you want to sense the powerhouse that Brel was as a live performer, *this* is the record to start with. It is by no means a rock 'n roll album. Actually, it's almost the opposite in every way. But for anyone interested in the French language, or international novelty curios, the emotions such a record provides are not so far off the mark compared to more "modern" strands of music. Ask David Bowie, Nick Cave or Nina Simone if you're still having doubts about the whole thing. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 993 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 2 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 4 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3 ]

For those who weren't there at the time, it's a little difficult describing how fresh and simply "out there" Björk's *Debut* felt when it came out in 1993. The difficulty is twofold: first, even though the former Sugarcube member drew heavily on the budding UK dance and electro scene for her early sonic explorations, that idiosyncratic voice of hers and its oh-so-Icelandic mannerisms were so powerful, so unique, that they could transcend any of the clichés picked out of her toy box to build the different soundscapes of her first solo effort. It's a voice everyone is familiar with now, whether you're a fan or not. But *at the time*, it was just something unheard of, even if you were a little aware of the Sugarcubes somehow. And it didn't even matter if some discrete parts of this first album already sounded somewhat *dated*, perhaps willingly, as with those tongue-in-cheek UK-club-scene inspired titles such as "Crying", "Big Time Sensuality" or "Violently Happy"--not to mention that naked cover of the cheesy Broadway novelty standard "Like Someone In Love", with only a simple harp to support Björk's extravagant ad-libs recorded in one take (small blunders included). The sheer originality of that voice, its harmonic instincts, along with its crystal-clear, youthful, Lolitaesque timbre--all of this could break through any wall, champagne glass or heart in the close vicinity. And just as importantly, that voice could sell any sort of music it chose as a backdrop, as long as the latter was decently written. So, in a way, it didn't really matter who Björk made this album with, even though Nellee Hooper did an excellent job co-writing half of the tunes and arranging all of them--his production chops here fortunately drawing more from an overall Massive Attack-level of quality than any of that hackneyed stuff he was responsible for in Soul II Soul. The Sugarcubes had just been a training run for Björk. Now she was embracing a promising future, being free to choose her collaborators as she saw fit for whatever was on her mind. Speaking of the future... The *other* difficulty when it comes to a retrospective take of *Debut* is to try to ignore everything that came after so as to assess it on its own terms. It's a near-impossible task. *Post*, *Homogenic* and *Vespertine* were genres of their own, the moments Björk burned her ships behind her for good so as to never turn back (if one of those albums is missing in this list of 1001 albums, it's just a crime). Those records are so striking and wonderful that *Debut* is a litlle pale in comparison, as flashy and eccentric as it first looked when it came out. Still, a large taste of the good things to come is still present in this record, and, unsurprisingly, those songs are the ones holding out better today. "Human Behaviour" is a quirky existential hit, as if Björk was a toddler playing with a Swiss clock, winding and rewinding it until the right joyful noise comes out. And I could listen to that bouncy timbal-sort-of-sound pattern for years, just as I could listen to Talvin Singh's lush, strings-and-tabla arrangements in "Venus As A Boy" for decades. This deceptively simple and tender song about an androgynous lover, one of Björk's greatest tunes, indeed marks a turning point where, for the first time ever, maybe, so-called "world music" was not used as a conceptual gimmick, but as a fresh, spontaneous impulse to fully embrace the sounds of this small blue planet, as varied as those sounds are. Björk is truly the first "global" artist to ever become a superstar. And more than any PR plan or conceptual blurb attached to what she was doing, this philosophy was translated into the music first and foremost.  For all its minor shortcomings, *Debut* is actually a very rare case in music history, one where an artist manages to push the enveloppe while still retaining their spontanity. The results of this rare combination are both playful and organic. "One Day", for instance, expertly uses a William Orbit style of ambient techno to paint the picture of an elated, wide-eyed messiah dreaming about a hopeful future. The song *is* naive, there's no arguing about that. And yet, it never makes you want to snarl or smirk, so enticing it is. Utopia is in our hands, you just need to believe in it. As for "Aeroplanes" and "The Anchor Song", they channel decades of jazz flourishes into their fabric and turn them into mere children's games, as easy on the ear as they are evocative on the mind. "The Anchor Song", in particular, is a miniature masterpiece, its barebones horn section displaying a minimalistic poetry that is all more fitting given the subject matter: Björk can only feel at home while bathing in an ocean, a paradox for many, but not for the romantic she is at heart. Maybe for certain cynical types out there, this sounds a trifle like a Sublime101 course. But it's a lesson the Icelandic songwriter will refine again and again in the future, starting with "Hyperballad" on the next record. It all starts there, with this track. And even before that, *Debut* remains a fountain of youth and potentialities, even today. *Here* is the deep lesson that makes the album an essential listen for both young and old souls of this world. Births, beginnings, eclosions, take-offs--you name them--have rarely felt any better than on this one. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 989 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 4 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 5 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3]

When listening to *Maxinquaye*, Tricky's historical first solo LP, it quickly dawns upon you that Adrian Thaws could not have chosen a better stage name. Almost thirty years after this feat of an album, it indeed remains *tricky* to qualify what makes the latter one-of-a-kind. Freshly out of Massive Attack, where he had previously honed his soft, surreal, passive-aggressive style of rapping, and having found a rare pearl to counterbalance his raspy vocals with the clear-voiced, wispy singer Martina Topley-Bird, Thaws took the trip-hop formula he's never been at ease with, and soured it with massive doses of his own obsessions and paranoia, here taking the shape of altered-state-fueled rants filled with striking turns of phrases. In an astonishing twist, this postmodern rendition of voodoo blues enacted through samplers and sequencers makes for a stifling yet also often oneiric experience, both musically and lyrically. We won't delve too much into the lyrics here, as other reviews have made an excellent job explaining why they were so interesting and personal, but from Thaws' gravelly grunts complaining that "MTV goes too fast" for his own bodily rhythms, up to the many allusions to drugs, sexual dysfunctions and the sad state of England during the nineties, *Maxinquaye* indeed caught the zeitgeist of those disillusioned years like almost no other record at the time. Tricky here gave birth to a LP that is timeless in many different ways--as a loose post-apocalyptic narrative, as an organic feast unafraid of its own little dark corners, and as a groove record pointing the way for several subsequent acts playing "black" music (in all senses of the word, from soul to rap to industrial to post-punk). The bulk of Thaws' DIY message was: do not follow the usual guidelines, and it is one that is still resonating today with acts such as King Krule or Young Fathers, long after 'trip hop' itself is dead and gone. Minus one minor misfire--to which we'll come back later on--the A-side of the album is certainly worthy of its overall legend. Opener "Overcome"--a reinterpretation of Thaws' memorable lyrics in Massive Attack's "Karmacoma"--is a floor-tom-propelled marvel soaked in lush, mysterious synth rivulets and eddies sounding like so many pagan flutes. Tricky himself is nowhere to be heard on the track, there's just Topley-Bird's acid-tinged vocals to lighten the dark proceedings. For anyone remembering Thaws' original verse on Massive Attack's track, it was as if his female collaborator was here playing the role of a graceful sybill possessed by a devilish, fuming spirit speaking incantations through her mouth. And even if you were not familiar with "Karmacoma", the contents of those incantations against the "west" and its lack of spirituality hit the mark from the get-go. Next in line, "Ponderosa" displayed a monsoon of moist and relatively agitated tropical percussions celebrating a hedonism all too suspect not to betray the existential malaise that lies underneath it all. "I'll drink 'til I'm drunk, and I'll fuck 'til I'm senseless", Topley-Bird singspeaks. Both erotic and claustrophobic, the track is an admirable showcase for *Maxinquaye*'s many ambiguities and suspended/suspenseful moments. A little further down the line, "Hell Is Round The Corner" is another reinterpretation of Thaws' lines found in Massive's *Protection* album. It is worth noting here that this cut spins the same Isaac Hayes sample as the one used by Portishead for their hit single "Glory Box", a borrowing of "Ike's Rap II"'s organ riff played over a descending bass line (it was a coincidence that both projects used the same sample, apparently). But *Maxinquaye*'s use of Isaac Hayes is so smart, so well-arranged, and so perfectly in tune with Thaws and Topley-Bird's vocals about public and private hells, that the results are actually as good as "Glory Box" while managing to sound *way* different from it. If both cuts thus retain the same basic ingredient at their core, none of them can be deemed as superior to the other, and it's almost a miracle the two songs can exist side by side without one intruding on the other in your memory. Right after, the lascivious "Pumpkin"--featuring Alison Goldfrapp--both namechecks and samples The Smashing Pumpkins, infusing much welcomed twangy guitar digressions to the laid-back formula (a rock influence that sounds far different from the one on "Black Steel", but more on that later). As for "Aftermath", it is another killer track, taking its sweet time to mesmerize the listener with its flute solos over a promiscuously slooooow funk backdrop. And so on... Many other songs in the record have those sorts of incredible ideas, even the less impressive ones crammed towards its end. Because, yes, as much as *Maxinquaye* is groundbreaking, it admittedly still drags a little in its second part, to put things rather bluntly. We won't name the tracks responsible for this overall lessening of quality, because they're not *that* bad. It's just that shorter versions of them would have done the job right without killing the overall flow. Moist, claustrophobic ambiences, scratchy samples, and dreamy solipsistic delusions are still very much to the fore on those later developments, but one can't help thinking Thaws would have made *even more* of an impression if he had applied a little self-editing for those specific forays. We also take issue with the third track of the album, "Black Steel", a clunky, repetitive, alt-rock cover of Public Enemy that overstays its welcome, going far too long for no discernible reasons. The concept was good, maybe--suddenly, here come all-out rock guitars and drums for a rap cover, and this in the middle of so-called 'trip-hop'--but the inclusion of this somewhat hackneyed track so soon, right in the third slot, could have killed *Maxinquaye*'s momentum if the rest had not been so convincing as a whole. To his defense, Tricky has always been a very instinctual artist, not bothering too much about rhyme or reason in his sylistic inclusions and digressions. Just like for his lyrics, you either take it or leave it, so to speak, and this might just be as good as it is, to be honest. Because, for all our little complaints up there, you can't really blame Thaws for taking risks. Indeed, that uncompromising stance of his is also the reason the album ends with offerings as impressive and uncompromising as the droney, psychotic "Strugglin'", followed by that unexpected last-minute balm "Feed Me", whose soothing yet still uneasy music-box-like chimes echo throughout the mist long after the album is over. For all the minor drawbacks in *Maxinquaye*, there are still many treasures of this kind to dig out of the rainy, desolate beach at the end of the world that this legendary record is at heart. You may uncover a few secondary trinkets half-buried in the sand here and there, but they won't tarnish the gold you're still able to find out of the place. That's why gold-diggers keep on returning to that beach after all these years, and rightly so. Soul-searching is an endless quest, and as such, *Maxinquaye* is as endless a statement as it should be. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 988 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 5 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 5 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3]

Just plain horrible. This is my *first* album in this "one album a day" generator thing, and I can't believe I have to start with that cheesy so-called blockbuster filled to the brim with saccharine-tasting manure "Bad"? As in "Hey look how bad-ass I look"? Er... What? That cringefest of boring ballads and mid-temp snoozers? Really??? This is a record without a shred of true soul in it. And even if it's not "soul" you're looking for, there should always be something *human* in music. Or monstrous, on the contrary. Or extraordinary. Or humble. Unfortunately, Bad is none of those things. It tells nothing. It *is* nothing. One can argue that "Dirty Diana" is kind of arresting, or that, at least, it's an interesting track towards the end of the album, since that's the only song that expresses something even remotely heartfelt (as ugly as the feelings actually expressed against Diana Ross are). I guess that after all the dumb schmooze that precedes, the aggro atmosphere in that song is a welcome (bad) breath of fresh air, and that we can all be grateful for that last-minute addition somehow. Thank you Slash for that electric guitar. You might not be very alert yourself, but I guess a tiny drop of whiskey in all that kool-aid does have a semblance of... taste (even though the subtle rock intrusions in Thriller were far more compelling and smartly executed than this still quite clunky shit here). As for the bouncy, hectic and hiccupy "Smooth Criminal", it *is* a killer dancefloor track and an instant classic. It would be foolish arguing about that... But everything else is just lame. Synth basses sound hollow. Horns are an imitation of their synth conterparts. Same with backing vocals. And the writing (both the lyrics *and* the music) is just... irrelevant. If not downright annoying. Case(s) in point,: "Liberian Girl" and "Man On The Mirror". Lyrics, since we must also talk about them, are just ridiculous. And they're made all the more ridiculous by the unmusical and rigid way they are displayed in these songs (just as in almost every other track). Telling the world is in danger, Michael's inapt and disconnected choice of words are no comfort for us. "And-if-you-want-to-o-make-it... a-bet-ter-place", well, just please shut up, Michael, please. And let us die in peace, at least. Admittedly, Thriller's successor could have gone other ways, and you can almost suspect the ghost of more "interesting" work under the surface from time to time--even though "Bad", probably Jackson's worst lead single ever, tells the lamentable story of the album that bears its name from its very first obnoxious seconds. It's true that this single *does* have something catchy. But embarrassing stuff can *also* catch your attention, and never let it go, unfortunately. And if you can't even tolerate a lead single on those sorts of grand commercial pop albums, how on earth will you find any redeeming features after it? How? The true problem of the album however, is that it doesn't even hold "Bad"'s promise of at least having a somewhat awkward laugh. From "Speed Demon" (the *awfully clunky* voice placement and delivery on that one, jeeze!!!) to "I Just Can't Stop Loving You", this is an album almost exclusively made of boring *fillers*, which is sort of an extraordinary feat in itself. Reminds a little of a visit to the dentist's (that clinical white backdrop behind Michael on the cover speaks tons about the surgical atmosphere here!!!). But you're going there with a set of teeth already punctured by a record amount of cavities, so the drilling takes an age AND the next one. Plus, it's painful. *Very* painful. Bad indeed. [Why, oh why, couldn't I review "Thriller" first? Now *that* was a Michael Jackson album that deserved its commercial success, thanks to its sophisticated production and the quality of most of its pop songs. Hope that one comes up soon... Number of albums I listened to: 1 Albums left to listen to: 1000 Number of albums I've found genuinely relevant: 0 Number of different albums you should listen to before you die: 1 ]

Some people are too smart for their own good. You've probably met those sorts of guys before. They're often sitting in the back of the office or the classroom, having that distanced 'I-can't-be-bothered' stare, idly turning their head towards the urban smog outside the window, as if listening to their own inner teacher or boss instead of the real man in charge. If you're a little intrigued by all that cynical, borderline-nihilistic reserve, you sometimes find yourself talking to such a person during coffee breaks, just to see what they're all about. Soon, however, you realize you won't gain much from the conversation anyway, and often leave that coffee break even more nonplussed than you were before. You admit still being fascinated a little, but the unobtrusive words exchanged on the surface keep on screaming "boredom" to your ears. The only real problem being that you don't know for sure if said boredom actually belongs to that person you talked to, or if it's just *yours*. That bloke is *Modern Life Is Rubbish*-era Damon Albarn. Too smart for his own good, and thereby missing a chance to genuinely impress or fully convince you. Admittedly, this doesn't mean there's absolutely anything Damon and his pals from Blur couldn't say with some sort of force or intent when they recorded their second, aptly-named, album. There is, actually. "For Tomorrow" is nothing but a stellar opener, for example (more on that later), nicely paying homage to a oh-so-brit tradition established by the Kinks--whose shadow obviously looms above the first part of Blur's career (minus-*Leisure*) with decidedly good aftereffects overall. Here the vocal melody floats with a bittersweet, mock-happy-go-lucky charm that belies the existential dread underneath the song itself, and it takes a full string section towards the end of that gem to reveal the full tragedy at hand in that tale about postmodern dread. Following that great introduction, "Advert" is a little punky masterpiece that snarls and rattles the point of the album's title home even better than the opener. The schoolboy's lament "Pressure on Julian", a swampy track that foretells left-field, grungy elements from *Blur* and *13*, owes a lot to Graham Coxon's admirable chops on his six strings, the sort of musical sprinkling that can't hurt a second-tier song. As for "Turn It Up", it is a bouncy pop song that gives some needed levity at the eleventh hour (even though it's no "Song 2" or "Girls And Boys" either). This list of assets could go on, of course. Production is flawless (courtesy of long-time collaborators Steve Lovell and Stephen Street). Arrangements are artful. But are those tracks *memorable*? Do you remember *that* guy from your old classroom now, as well-dressed as he was? Probably not. Let's just hope that lad's nihilistic stance hasn't triggered him to do the worst and harm himself at some later points of his life at least. "He's a twentieth century boy / With his hands on the rails / Trying not to be sick again / And holding on for tomorrow". This is how the album starts, namely as an inverted T-Rex anthem where contemplations about suicide have taken the place of the usual calls to hedonism enacted throughout the history of rock'n'roll. On the same song, Damon tells a little more about the alienated individuals having such self-destructive thoughts: "Jim stops and gets out of the car / Goes to a house in Emperor's Gate / Through the door and to his room / And then he puts the TV on / Turns it off and makes some tea". Vacant life at its most obvious here. See also "Blue Jeans": "Blue, blue jeans I wear them every day / There's no particular reason to change / My thoughts are getting banal, I can't help it". Uh, OK, Damon, we *get* it. Consumer society and constant commodification play their parts gnawing us all into tiny little squibs devoid of all life. But the point is: do *you* have to sound so bored yourself to hammer that idea home? Isn't that overkill? C'mon, chin up. Shake a leg. You're turning into an annoying, humourless slob here, and this might go against your first intent, don't you think? Because... well, yes, duh: *Modern Life Is Rubbish* says it straight right from its title. You can't relax ("Star Shaped"), you're barfing on food and drugs to vent your frustrations out ("Chemical World"), there are leeches in the close-cropped lawns and "eating between meals stifles the appetite". Nice program, right? You also have to deal with publicity sponsors ("Colin Zeal"), militaries ("Sunday Sunday"), or even the CIA agency on "Miss America", an overlong dirge that saps what's left of the album momentum on side 2. This is a record that ends with a song called "Resigned", folks! Even though at that point, we're not necessarily caring any longer either, mind you, as harsh as it sounds to say so. All this performative angst might actually be nothing short of rosy under the sun for amateurs of works driven by wry, pessimistic hot takes about our late capitalistic societies. But the crux of the issue here is that overall, *Modern Life Is Rubbish* is almost a complete misfire on those topics, bordering on self-indulgence in the expression of mundane banalities, and becoming itself the sort of bane that it supposedly tries to tackle in the first place. And in a way, the music itself is burdened by the exact same sort of problems that are plaguing Albarn's lyrical conceits throughout the record. There is no sense of direction to the whole thing. Melodically speaking, some songs, especially those with the most "Britpop" inflexions, appear lively on the surface, but there's none of that catchy *spark* in them, none of the sheer tongue-in-cheek inventivity and directness Blur will become known for in *Parklife* for instance. It is probably no coincidence the latter was released only a year after this one, as if the Essex boys had felt the need to course-correct the many shortcomings witnessed here as soon as possible, before it was too late and they lost that peculiar zeitgeist they were aiming at in that tentative effort here. Likewise, what could pass for melancholy or mystery in some of those songs will be better explored later on, first with "To The End" on *Parklife*, and then further in parts of *The Great Escape*. But mostly, it is during the post-Britpop period that this specific dimension will finally bloom. Before those glorious days ahead, what we have is merely a sketch of the promising future, drawn thanks to a somewhat mechanical hand on auto-pilot. The sarcastic Village Green Preservation Society of days yonder has turned brown, and then bare. Blur still tries to summon its wry, ironic poetry, but their heart's not in it, as if squashed by the weight of their own conceptual pretensions. Fortunately, they found a way out of this conundrum, given that there isn't anything in *Modern Life Is Rubbish* that Blur hasn't done *better* in the three albums that followed it, gving Albarn and company the opportunity to finally have their cakes and eat it too. In those later records (*Parklife*, *The Great Escape* and *Blur*) not only has Blur allowed themselves to grind their axe about the pitfalls of modernity, but this time they also managed to have fun on the wayside. The music there does not merely *snarls*, it also *giggles*, *guffaws* and *rolls on the floor with laughter. Sometimes it also jumpstarts, gets genuinely angry, croons and even cries. In the core of those emotions, commodification and the unavoidable existential responses it triggers in us all are still lying there somewhere, honoring the initial program established in the band's second album. But to target those themes for what they are, you still need to contrast them with a little spice, a little flavour, and it's a lesson Blur has probably learned the hard way through this transitional second LP. Overall, we *do* agree with you, Damon: "modern life is rubbish" indeed. But no one said you *can't* have a wholehearted laugh about it, at least. [Number of albums I listened to from the list: 2 Albums left to listen to: 999 Number of albums I've found genuinely relevant: 0 Number of different albums you should listen to before you die: 2 (including this one)]

It's a quick shot, barely ten seconds. "I'm a fool-to-dooo your-dir-ty work, oh yeaaaaah! I don't want-to-dooo your dirty-work, no mo-o-ore." It's nighttime, the radio plays an old Steely Dan hit, and Tony Soprano is singing at the wheel as he drives somewhere. The endearing yet sociopathic mob boss has the same bored, weary eyes as ever, but that scene is probably the closest thing in the whole series to a moment showing him having the time of his life. Tony knows them oldies-but-goldies standards. And he knows it's always deeply pleasurable to sing along to one of those as they pop up between Journey and Cream on the car's radio. The thing is, would Tony Soprano enjoy *Countdown To Ecstasy* in the exact same way he enjoyed the early hits from Steely Dan's debut, *Can't Buy A Thrill*? Probably not. Very much a transitional effort leading the L.A. band towards the more refined soft-rock soundscapes for which they'll later be known for, *Countdown To Ecstasy* is maybe too sophisticated and left-field for Tony's more immediate, impulsive, 'it's-either-hit-or-miss', tastes. Not that Steely Dan would have cared, at least at the time. Having dumped co-singer/songwriter David Palmer (of "Dirty Work" fame) for this second album, now penning cryptic lyrics with a somewhat dystopian flavor (in keeping with the William Burroughs influence on their band's name), and electing for an ethereal cover that would nicely fit in Brian Eno's discography, Donald Fagen and Walter Becker took very much of a gamble here, even if the years that have passed since 1973 might have erased the extent in which those risks were actually *that* bold. First listens today indeed suggest Steely Dan was mostly a band perfectly content to rely on their earlier charts success and technical prowess to write and perform quite innocuous songs ranging from old rock'n'roll, country and rhythm and blues. Admittedly, they did spice things up by adding a fashionable form of prog-rock once in a while. If only said prog-rock didn't sound so irremediably tame compared to the Floyd or Can, this could have well turned up as a lengendary endeavor. Not in here, though, unfortunately. Such harsh preliminary assessment might not be the full picture, however. As subsequent spins soon reveal, this missed opportunity might actually be a blessing in disguise for amateurs of truly *original* sounds. And playing a huge part in this overall originality, you have the jazz inflexions throughout the album, either in the instrumentation (those vibes in "Razor Boy") or the chord changes, bringing a welcome uneasiness and chiaruscoro ambiguity to the whole shebang, very much in line with the dystopian atmoshere already evoked earlier. Opener "Bodhisattva" is a very striking example of such artful sprinklings. Starting as an old R'n'R standard not sounding too fresh or daring these days, with a vocal hook even bordering on parody or muzak, the track's five minutes still fly by, thanks to those unexpected chord changes, along with slyly imaginative bridges and a synth part whose glossy crispness does a great job as it finally circles around you like a flock of pixellated sparrows, forcing you to let your guard down in front of their aerial spectacle. If this is elevator music (make no mistake, it very much *is*), this might be the sort of elevator music you can hear in Stephen King's "dark tower", granted such tower has an elevator in the first place (can't recall, does it?). The irony that you felt under the surface at the start of the song ends up screaming at you toward its end, and quickly, you begin to reconsider how performative the track really is. Is this stuff *cheesy* music? Or is it a *semblance* of cheesy music, with a more sophisticated agenda behind it, even more shrewd and cunning given that Steely Dan have more or less managed to hide their true game until the very last minute? Retrospectively, it seems that Fagen and Becker have always aimed at straddling that fine line, being the sly, witty bastards that they are. Fans sometimes see in Steely Dan things that non-fans are unable to imagine or even comprehend while listening to their music for the first time. Sometimes it just takes one weird, off-kilter note in a guitar or keyboard solo to change the picture, as in the hard-bop but otherwise predictable and standardized "Your Gold Teeth". Other times, you find yourself being entranced by the implacable grooves of the rhythm section, even though the rest of the instrumentation sounds a little too nice and dandy overall. Not to say 'bland'. You know this is imaginative writing here, no matter what. Too bad you can't *feel* it sometimes. As a consequence, one could easily argue that the prog-rock flavors in Steely Dan's music would have gained from being a little more pronounced than they actually were. Or that a true manifestation of genuine psychedelia during those very specific forays would have helped them faring better today, at least. But maybe it is unfair to compare apples and oranges, and expect from Fagen and Becker a program that was far too much in line with their contemporary day and age--it's a program the band visibly had no genuine interest in, for better or for worse. And ironically, Steely Dan's overall sound was nothing but ahead of the curve in 1973, foretelling the set of styles countless "mainstream" soft rock bands would embrace later on, from Eagles to Supertramp (not to mention other 'neat-sounding' acts even further down the line, during the eighties--Dire Straits, anyone?). Yet there is *another* layer of irony to point out, at least from our vantage point in the 21st century, and this one is far more cruel than the first. None of those groundbreaking aspects objectively present during the course of *Countdown To Ecstasy* are easily discernible today, after all that has transpired since. The music is good in this album, there's no arguing about that. But whether it is still *relevant* remains to be seen. A good chunk of the tracks are saving the record from complete stylistic oblivion though, first because Steely Dan's pop-leaning, post-modernist agenda actually does conceptual wonders from time to time. Or, on the contrary, because the band *also* knew how to drop that agenda in key points of the record so as to focus on the music first and foremost. The mock-country highlight "Pearl Of The Quarter" for instance, is a convincing exercise in style, with its evocative albeit over-the-top steel guitar. And "Show Biz Kids" is a somewhat linear, overlong jam that's probably a little too on-the-nose, but it's stiil part of that interesting postmodern group of songs, thanks to its wry lyrics about poverty (and the fact that "Steely Dan T-shirts" won't save you from it). If nothing else, such attempts are showing how smart and topically meaningful the band actually intended to be. And in the more straightforward tracks, you have rhythm 'n blues homages such as "My Old School", whose Motown-sounding backing vocals suffuse much needed life to the proceedings. But most of all, you have two stunners, not hits per se, but still the liveliest tracks of the whole program. As a centerpiece of the record, "The Boston Rag"' evokes a sense of nostalgia only belied by the animated performance that supports it. And closer "King Of The World" is an apt, skittering conclusion for the countdown uttered in the album's title, a promised "ecstasy" here tainted by heartbreaking descriptions of a post-nuclear America where said "kings of the world" are actually none but a scattered group of survivors slowly dying from radiation poisoning. From the barren realm of The Dark Towers, we've plunged right into the waste lands of The Stand, but the overall effect is the same. And yes, the shakespearian references do help set the appropriate, despondent mood, finally revealing that the titular countdown was nothing but a countdown to nuclear annihilation. I bet not a lot of listeners saw that one coming, whether today or at the time--even though the cover was an ominous sign of the disaster about to surge. *Gravity's Rainbow*'s Thomas Pynchon, would surely have appreciated such a nice touch here. Wasn't Pynchon's mammoth published in 1973 anyway? If a rock album cover could have been used for thsi novel, the one of *Countdown To Ecstasy* would have done a fine job paying homage to its grim-but-carnival-like contents, if not the music itself. To be honest, however, all the tragic post-apocalyptic memorabilia displayed by Fagen in that song is NOT the first reason why the latter should be singled out, along with "The Boston Rag". The real reason is simple, as simple as a back-to-basics New Jersey mob boss's playlist. And the reason is that those tracks are catchy and direct enough to allow you to sing along to them, in spite of the other jazzy flourishings out there. This does not lessen the other merits of "King Of The World", and yes indeed, the admirable guitar interlacing in its introduction is still very much in keeping with the other sophisticated arrangements thoughout the album. But here you have that extra cherry on the cake, and you can eat it too: a glorious, roaring, heartfelt, take-no-quarters chorus. Sometimes Tony Sopranos was right, at least when it came to music. It's not always necessary to split hairs if you want to have a good time. Life's too short for this, with or without a nuclear apocalypse looming on the horizon. [[Number of albums I listened to from the list: 3 Albums left to listen to: 998 Number of albums I've found genuinely relevant: 0 Number of different albums you should *probably* listen to before you die: 1 (so counting this one out, maybe) Number of different albums you should *definitely* listen to before you die: 2]

Guns blazing out, country and western songs seem to have taken a large part of the American musical consciousness in 1959. This was the year a sleazy and cynical Italian-American crooner such as Dean Martin reinvented himself as a cowboy hero in Howard Hawks' *Rio Bravo*, even managing to have the producers press 'pause' on the proceedings onscreen to have enough time for him and Ricky Nelson to wistfully duet on the unforgettable "My Rifle, My Pony And Me" in front of an elated John Wayne. Only a few years before this endearing musical interlude on film, Marty Robbins' well-rounded persona and clear, juvenile voice had already surged in the US country scene thanks to hits such as "A White Sport Coat" and "The Story Of My Life". But it was also in 1959 that Robbin's real foray into western balladry actually started for good. And for those willing to invest their hard-earned bucks into a collection of records dedicated to such a quaint-yet-charming subgenre, *Gunfighter Ballads And Trail Songs* is deemed as nothing shorter than a landmark album. (For more information on this crooning, conservative and cosplay take on "country music" taken as a whole, see also: Jim Reeves. Or at least, that's what online specialists are trying to whisper into my ears right now--even though I'm not a horse). Wikipedia even informs us that years after *Gunfighter Ballads*'s release, members of the Western Writers of America chose six of its songs as being among the Top 100 Western Songs of all time. Three of them were written by Robbins: first his signature song "El Paso", along with "Big Iron", and "The Master's Call". And three were written and previously recorded by others: "Cool Water", "Billy The Kid", and "The Strawberry Roan". Without a doubt, the six songs listed here were the highlights of the album, whether then or now. It's worth noting, however, that in that bunch, "Big Iron" is probably the least compelling track, and its relative fame in 2022 seems to have more to do with the online craze of our day and age than in any relevant influence during the late fifties. In 2010, with the release of Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout New Vegas, *Gunfighter Ballads...* was indeed rediscovered by people who played the game and listened to the in-game radio. The radio feature included "Big Iron," which caused players to seek out the entire album, discovering the other songs online. Many Internet memes were created as a result, with the most common of them being parodies and edits of the album cover, along with edits or mashups of "Big Iron". And this hot trail was then picked up by the Breaking Bad producers, choosing the song for an appearance in the finale of their postmodern spaghetti western. Seems like Hollywood is never really far when something is labelled as 'Western'. It's those dreams shot for wide cinemascope screens, never really burdened by any sense of authenticity. How could those dreams *not* be part of the overall package here? Coincidentally or not, such a sudden and inexplicable online craze as the one that befell "Big Iron" also nicely ties in with the Tik Tok success of Lil Nas X's "Old Town Road" ten years later or so. And even beyond the common country and western influence displayed in those two admittedly very different tunes, there's *another* interesting parallel to point out here. In both cases, what we have is a competent song fooling around with clichés inherent to the genre involved, which often has its charm if it's done in the appropriate, tongue-in-cheek manner, as is the case for both tracks. But can such immediate, albeit somewhat hollow success be equated to art having a truly *meaningful* discourse about our current culture? The jury's out on this one. My best guess here is that all those playful Hollywood shenanigans are just ephemeral excitement, nothing that would change any listener's life in the long run. Not to say that Marty Robbins or Lil Nas X didn't *deserve* to have their fair share of success. But this sort of overwhelming popularity shouldn't *necessarily* have any bearing on any retrospective critical assessment, mind you. And I'll point my pistol to anyone who says I should change my mind and speak more cautiously about all this. Understood, gringo?                                                                  All oh-so-serious grumblings about the commodification of music aside (niche or otherwise), the six Robbins songs quoted earlier in this piece still have very clear assets, like trump cards in a poker game explaining why this album shouldn't be totally forgotten either. "The Master's Call", in particular, could remind modern listeners of Nick Cave's killer-rampage rants about outlaws and other low-life thugs swarming in his narrative pandemonium of beautiful losers and desperate psychos (it seems like Cave's aptly named *Murder Ballads* might even have drawn a little influence from Robbins, at least on the conceptual level). And among the three covers quoted up above, the cautionary tale "Billy The Kid" also stands out for sure. Flavored with peppers and hot chili sauce all around its Tex-Mex arrangements (just like in the sweeter, grander and yet more by-the-books "El Paso"), there's even a gripping quality to the rendition of that traditional tune in here, with its smart, bittersweet alternance of major and minor key chords neatly thought out, recorded and performed. The images evoked by such a technicolor-shot motion picture are thus nothing short of stunning. And you can't complain about the script either, even though you know how the story ends (spoiler alert: badly). As for most of the other unquoted songs, there's nothing in them particularly worth raving about on first listens. If you happen to be obsessed with them tales of the Old Wild West--or if you're right in the middle of a Red Dead Redemption marathon--you will probably find the time and energy to immerse yourself into that hackneyed Grand Canyon vista so as to sort the wheat from the chaff before stacking the good stuff up in your carriage and move on. Other pioneers, however, might elect to go at once and find a creek with fresher water elsewhere to plant their tipees or tents. The American west is large enough for all sorts of pioneers anyway.                                                                             Interestingly, *Gunfighter Ballads...* is now part of Sony's "American Milestones" reissue series for classic country and western albums, including, among others, *At Folsom Prison* by Johnny Cash and *Red Headed Stranger* by Willie Nelson. "American milestones", those figures are indeed, mostly because Cash and Nelson knew a thing or two about how they could raise a vast array of emotions in their listeners' souls (laughter, anger, cynicism, despair, romanticism and so on...). And doing this, the two also had a legitimate influence on other genres far outside of their initial reach. Cash's mordant lyrics, deep rumbling vocals and dry instrumentation, in particular, still stands the test of time today. Next to these giants, Marty Robbins kinda looks like a midget holding a water pistol instead of the glittering, proverbial colt. And the Old Wild West is certainly not kind for simpering tenderfoots with a suave voice, as every free-lance undertaker (and music critic) this side of Colorado knows... [[Number of albums I listened to from the list: 4 Albums left to listen to: 997 Number of albums I've found genuinely relevant: 0 Number of different albums you should *probably* listen to before you die: 1 Number of different albums you should *definitely* listen to before you die: 3 (counting this one out)]

Since it's probably one of the most striking album debuts in the history of rap, it's interesting to assess how *The Slim Shady LP* is holding out more than two decades after that game changer broke all the hip hop rules you thought you knew at the time. Eminem's hectic, cartoonish flow, hilarious-slash-offensive lyrics, technical chops as a rapper, and controversial persona are very much a part of popular music history today, so much that it's actually a little difficult now to realize in which *ways* this first album indeed broke all the rules. The rap game was a seemingly simpler affair then, its opposition between east coast and west coast giving everyone enough basic landmarks to find their way into it (to sketch the whole thing in oversimplistic terms, it was G-funk L.A. vs. rougher developments in NYC--we're leave Atlanta aside for this piece, as well as other strands more or less outside the whole gangster influence, from Wu-Tang street weirdo poetics to the cooler, smoother boom bap heirs of that earlier jazzy "Native Tongues" scene...). This clear-cut world, however, was before Eminem, or rather, should we correct, before his "Slim Shady" alter-ego snarly told us all *what his name* was for the first time. Less a gangster than a dangerous, irremediably irresponsible, white thrash psycho raised in one of them middle-west trailer parks, Slim Shady was the very definition of a loose cannon. And as a rapper's version of Batman's Joker, he was a character actually far more disturbing and downright outrageous than any of those MCs still stuck into circular ego-tripping exercises, too busy launching diss tracks from one coast to the next to really break new ground.                                                       Enter Marshall Mathers, who, even though he picked a "side", so to speak, by collaborating with Dr. Dre of N.W.A and The Chronic fame, was still smart and savvy enough to let his crude lyrics, nasal voice, unsavory statements and faster-than-light rapping abilities speak for himself without much of an afterthought as to where his place should be in the "game". Of course, Captain Obvious must have a say here: Eminem is indeed not only a brilliant rapper, but also, he is a white rapper, with all the necessary consequences that such an obvious statement entails. Others have analyzed this elsewhere. Let's just say that one can only imagine how Dre must have felt producing that white-thrash genius, more of an ally to hip hop's cultural cause than Elvis ever was to the African-American songwriters and artists of his time (speaking of *white* rappers, we're not forgetting the fantastic Beastie Boys, but they couldn't count here, having chosen the arty sidelines of that world as soon as 1989, when *Paul's Boutique* came out). With Eminem's irruption, however, one can easily argue that a very important gate for strands of modern black music that were hitherto despised by the mainstream music industry had been blown open at last. Hip hop at large could finally reap what it had sowed for two decades. And more importantly, Dre, as an important and historical actor of the U.S. rap scene, was also at the helm of this phenomenon, not only counting his newly-earned heaps of dollars, but also counting the ways in which said phenomenon could benefit everyone in the "game" in the long run. But what about the album itself, then? How fresh does it sound now? Just as its author, we won't mince words: the first half is brilliant, almost pitch-perfect. But the second half is not so good as a whole, and this even in comparison to other hip hop masterpieces which often tend to go on a little too long, avoiding the necessary edits that would make them shine even brighter (just like your humble servant here). On the side of the good stuff, there's the funky, Rhodes-driven opener and first single "My Name Is", a grand preliminary statement as to what Eminem's crazy antics are all about. But it's really the second song, "Guilty Conscience", that brilliantly sets up to the task of showing what we're up against here, setting the bar so high on a lyrical standpoint that the album almost doesn't recover from it after. Featuring Dr. Dre playing the part of a better angel urging lost souls to err on the side of caution and dignity (this here is already a riot to write about!), the track is not only a showcase of Eminem's narrative abilities, but it's also a genius opportunity for him to display his talents as an actor delivering hilarious punchlines, each one more shocking and outrageous than the one before. You've probably guessed it already, Eminem plays the part of the miniature devil facing Dre from the opposite shoulders of said lost souls, and he's so competent in this role that the so-called angel finally gives up all pretense to decency and joins the side of pure evil at the end of the song (we won't spoil the way Eminem convinces Dre to join his ranks here... Let's just say that anyone collaborating with Mathers needs to share his self-deprecating sense of humour). What works so well in the track is that it starts as a concept where the two rappers are initially only playing a role, but because of Slim Shady's sheer malevolence, such concept soon goes off the rail, and even Dre-as-a-real-person doesn't come out of it unscathed. Nothing is off-limit, not even disrespecting the album's own executive producer. Carnival at its best here. Next is "Brain Damage", an exploration of childhood trauma that also goes off the rail to become a mix between Garbage Pail Kids and a gore flick. It is one of the best tracks musically speaking, with its unstoppable bouncy beat and intricate west-coast-style samplings. But the real centerpiece of the album only comes a few tracks later, and here it's not so much its music than its overall concept, along with Eminem's chilling delivery, that will send shivers down your spine. "'97 Bonnie and Clyde" is horrorcore at its most disturbing and off-putting, telling the dreadful yarn of a man killing his ex-wife and getting rid of her body with their daughter in tow, the unrepenting murderer even lying to the small toddler throuhout the song, denying how much of a monster he is (just look at the cover of the album to have an inkling of what the song is about). In the next record, "Stan" will explore such a sociopathic narrative thread even a little further, but for those who are already familiar to that later track, suffice it to say that this is how everything started when it came to Eminem as a horror master... An aside here, about 'unreliable narrators'. Some commentators at the time were quick to put blame on Eminem's possible deleterious influence on kids and their sense of morality (often in conjunction with their condemnation of the mock-satanist shock-fest of Marilyn Manson). But it is somewhat misleading and even downright stupid to think the kids Eminem was adressing himself to were not aware all of this was just entertainment, a play, an act, spooky tales aimed at placing them into a rollercoaster of conficting and intense emotions. In a way, Mathers later beat those commentators at their own game when he created the 'Stan' character during the course of his next album. Here was an Eminem fan dumb enough to take everything at face value, and so become an unhinged danger for himself and others. But... well... newsflash: 'Stan' doesn't really exist. Just as 'Dada' in " '97 Bonnie And Clyde". Or even "Slim Shady" himself. It's that old "Fight Club" twist all over again, is it not? Teens' minds are always blown away by it, but meanwhile, there's never been a killer-rampage enacted in the name of Eminem or Tyler Durden. It's just pure, trangressive fun. Phew... I guess PMRC members can start sleeping a little better at night now. It will be easier for us to slit their throats in their sleep, at least. See what I just did up there? Mathers does that all the time. There's never a sure way to know when he's playing an act and when he's dead serious during the course of the album. Well... there's never a sure way to know *if you're not paying enough attention*. Case in point: "Role Model", where Eminem makes it clear he is not one of them, nor should be considered as such. For instance, this is the song where he lists the drugs he is truly addicted to as opposed to the ones he has no interest in, contradicting other statements elsewhere on the album (including that ironic "Er... Don't do drugs..." in the short skit opening the LP). Such intricate, truly postmodern way to mix truths and falsehoods does not merely offer cheap thrills in most songs, it is also a testament to Mathers' multilayered, rich, and even thought-inducing writing. Eminem is smart enough to consider his listeners should still exercise their free will and sense of agency in our sick sad world, contrary to the conservative boomers who found the mirror he was holding up to us all too dreary and unbearable for their delicate, hypocritical tastes. Unfortunately, past "Role Model", that multilayered, thought-inducing writing starts to wear thin a little, as if Mathers was at pains to find any effective way to fuel the demonic machinery he so brilliantly ignited in the first part of the record. At some point, just as you go through this piling-up of shock treatments, you start to feel a little numb, a little anaesthetized, and it doesn't help when you already know that Eminem's technical chops as a rapper with a machine-gun flow will get *even better* than this in the next LPs. Some of the imagery even sounds a little immature at some point, a pitfall that was probably unavoidable given the nature of Mathers' initial intents here. And the music itself sometimes loses its momentum. Indeed, it must be pointed out that a huge chunk of the tracks' instrumentation in the LP, mostly those composed by the Bass Brothers, does not fare that well today, and one has a sneaking suspicion that even in 1999, such instrumentation could pass off as clunky or slightly outdated, especially when compared to the songs Dr Dre produced himself. The drums, in particular, often sound flat and overmixed, a flaw that will fortunately not occur again in the subsequent albums, where Dre will be more directly involved. For the first of those, *The Marshall Mathers L.P.*, it seems that Eminem effectively course-corrected most of those shortcomings at least. This second album might also be slightly overlong, but there, the killer tracks are sprinkled throughout the record so that the latter never loses its steam. And it is an asset that *The Slim Shady LP* can't boast about. Rather than listing the underwhelming tracks in the album, maybe it's better to list some of the best one-liners that are still peppered throughout it, in spite of all that lost steam. At least we'll end up on a high note. "But I don't get pissed, y'all don't even see through the mist / How the fuck can I be white, I don't even exist" ("Role Model"). "I'm about as normal as Norman Bates with deformative traits / A premature birth that was four minutes late" ("Role Model" again). Or *this*, about a girl overdosing on mushrooms at a party, with the unmarried girl deliriously moaning : "I don't even have any kids and I can't cook," and Slim replying: "I'm over here, Sue, you're talking to the plant, look!" ("My Fault"). And we should probably mention that two of the best punchlines come at the very end, in "Still Don't Give A Fuck": "I get imaginative with a mouth full of adjectives / A brain full of adverbs, and a box full of laxatives". Either this or the following boast: "Now how in the hell am I supposed to get out of debt? / I can't rap anymore, I just murdered the alphabet". All bragging aside, Eminem did not murder the whole alphabet yet at the time of his first major debut. But he sure came close to it in the couple of records that followed. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 996 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 0 Albums from the list I might include in mine later on: 2 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 3 ]

Their heads barely out of the ashes of At The Drive-In, Omar Rodriguez López and Cedric Bixler-Zavala did not waste any time to rebound by forming The Mars Volta, sprinkling seventies psychedelia, latin rhythm inflexions and Zappaesque circumvolutions in their already charged post-hardcore formula. *Deloused In the Comatorium* is the result of this quick mutation, and akin to a phoenix rising over its former shell's self-implosion, the new band does a very fine job setting up high expectations for what was to come. Standout tracks "Inertiatic Esp", "The Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of) and "This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed" are especially convincing, flaunting a technical prowess that is in service of songs sporting roaring choruses like so many badges of honor. None of the digressions in those tracks are unnecessary, and the overall production is neat and on-point, displaying very clear and panoramic vistas of the multi-layered mess so as to help the listener make sense of it. Bixler-Zavala's lyrics are cryptic as ever, digging the exact same surreal trench as the one he had dug as the At The Drive-In frontman, and his crystal-clear, energetic vocals are reaching new heights, even though he never forgets to also bring emotion and subtle nuance when needed. It's a little unfortunate, however, that the Mars Volta could not apply the same self-editing principles and direly needed restraint for a bunch of tracks across the middle of the record. See for instance "Eriatarka" and "Cicatriz Esp", where mastermind Rodriguez López desperately--and often vainly--tries to reach a full-on psychedelic scope the band would only really attain for their second LP, the criminally underestimated *Frances The Mute* (which is probably the best homage to seventies prog-rock madness ever penned this side of the 21st century, and a piece of work far more sweeping and ambitious than their first effort). In comparison to its successor, some of the tracks in *Deloused In The Comatorium* are either too short or too long, or maybe even *both*, oddly enough--too short for the ambient meandering interludes inside them to really stick and go somewhere--and too long for the *exact same reason*, mainly that those aimless interludes should have probably been better left off on the cutting room floor so as to give a little muscle to the overall songs If *Frances The Mute* avoided those pitfalls by giving its most experimental moments much-needed conceptual and atmospheric points, such miracles only too rarely happened in the rest of the band's career. After their second album, The Mars Volta even quickly got lost into their own free-jazz proclivities (read "ass"), spawning a handful of albums that did not add anything genuinely meaningful to the initial formula. And when that string of records ended, Rodriguez López and Bixler-Zaval even resorted to a reformation of At The Drive-In which turned out to be a half-baked stylistic avowal of defeat instead of the glorious reunion everyone had hoped for. Heroes fall hard sometimes. In *Deloused In The Comatorium*, the phoenix was still on the rise at least. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 995 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 0 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 3 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3 ]

The eighties were a very, very strange period for music. In only a very few years whole paradigms were turned upside down, and this under a twofold influence: technology and business. Overreliance on the first and obsession about the second created overall aesthetics and atmospheres so representative of that period that, apart from the sixties, no other decade can boast being so instantly recognizable on the merits of its *sounds* alone. And this for better or for worse. During those early eighties, just as Eurythmics was conquering charts worldwide, it's for instance worth noting that even someone like Neil Young was busy using synths and vocoders (see the much maligned and frankly misunderstood *Trans*), and this mere anecdotal footnote here speaks volumes. The times they had-a *really* changed in those years. But probably not in the ways good ol' Bob had expected.  Contrary to Neil Young, Eurythmics were typically "eighties" from the get-go, and that's a *huge* difference between the two, of course (one among many). By the time of their second album *Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)*, the duo had indeed fully embraced the schlock, glossy world of fatty synth bass lines and other electronic-driven pulses and would never fully depart from it, even during the nineties. But *there* was also a peculiar twist, a paradox of sorts, because Eurythmics had actually only embraced the clichés of their day and age so as to better reinvent songwriting tropes from far earlier periods, namely the ones of the good old rhythm 'n blues of days yonder. At least, that was the plan. To counterbalance the increasing power of the machines, the solution Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart found out was to inject *soul* into the 'popular mechanics" of their time, even though such "soul" could turn up being totally unrecognizable in those brand new, icy whereabouts. When replicants in *Blade Runner* claim they have their own 'souls', and that they are therefore as 'human' as you and me, there's more than a few eyebrows raised in response. It's the sort of eyebrows that Lennox and Stewart's band are still raising today, especially now that the eighties are far off into the rearview mirror.  They were certainly not the only ones to step on that tightrope line in those days. In the U.K. dance scene, Soft Cell's legendary cover of "Tainted Love" had used the same mash-up of electronics and African-American, tried-and-true, melodic lines. But Eurythmics's version of that formula was a whole other level of complexity. Annie Lennox's diaphanous timbre and androgynous presence were not just masks or disguises in plain sight, only *pretending* to hide the obvious rhythm'n' blues influences of her voice inflexions. They were also an ambiguous statement about cultural appropriation and simulacrum. Music once considered "warm" or even "hot" was turning into its own *cold* self-conscious copy. It was *whitened*, in all senses of the word. And it seems audiences just took a lot of pleasure out of this without asking too many questions. In a way, Lennox's almost superhuman abilities on a technical point of view, like when she adlibs soulful pleas and performs other risky voice tremolos, only reinforces that initial ambiguity between (wo)man and machine. What do we have here? A genuine soul singer with flesh and bone? Or a robot only pretending to be one? Do androids dream of cybernetic Aretha Franklins? Not even Philip K. Dick or William Gibson had answered those queries before... Let's just address the electric elephant in the room, once and for all. As overplayed as it is, "Sweet Dreams"--that bouncy title track everyone has hummed under the shower at least once--still sounds superb today. But the apparent simplicity of that hit belies the fact that the song is first and foremost the epitome of the paradoxes spotted up there. And that at its core, it's part of that "Tainted Love" tradition of expressing doubt or heartbreak in such a lively manner (while not plagiarizing the full on minor-key vocal line of the old Gloria Jones hit, there's definitely a similarity in its "Sweet Dreams" equivalent). So if f the track works so well, it's because of those rhythm 'n blues influences first, as is the case in most of the less famous cuts in the album. The great synths sounds, drum-machines, and overall "programming" are just cream on the cake. Excellent cream, but cream nonetheless. The only problem with this track and its place on the album is that it is like a large tree hiding a whole forest. Indeed, if Eurythmics's second effort still holds up relatively well decades after it was released, it's for one reason only: the songwriting. Strip *The Walk* of all its trimmings, for example, electronic or otherwise--yes, even the horn section and that mellifluous trumpet solo at the end--and what you have here is basically a good PJ Harvey song circa *Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea*. Just imagine a different "rock" instrumentation on its verses, and the ressemblance is simply striking. Likewise (but conversely in a chronological point of view), final track "This City Never Sleeps" is nothing but a barely-veiled homage to Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues", with its hypnotic bassline supporting lyrical snapshots of urban melancholy and destitution. What links those two very different reference points (PJ Harvey and Marvin Gaye) is inspiration from the blues and nothing else. And it's an inspiration that a synth-driven act like Depeche Mode will use only quite a few years later compared to Eurythmics. So they knew what they were doing here. Other strands of black music run throughout the course of the album. The use of echoes and reverb in "I've Got An Angel" is drawing its inspiration from dub, and it's a move that feels like a weird, off-kilter way to explore the same paths Massive Attack would step on fifteen years later, musing about other sorts of 'angels'. And in "Somebody Told Me", Lennox even... raps (!), and the outcome of this experimentation is definitely not as ridiculoius as it may sound on paper. Add other decent tracks like that, plus a fantastic Kraftwerk-like, minimalistic opener ("Love Is A Stranger"), and the whole proposition holds the proverbial water like no other Eurythmics record. Speaking of water, don't miss that mesmerizing dark reverie about a drowned girl veering towards This Mortal Coil's goth territory. The girl is named "Jennifer", but she could as well have been named 'Ophelia'. There are only two duds in the album: first another Kraftwerk-inspired track, a cyberpunk cover of Sam And Dave's "Wrap It Up", which might read like an interesting or even daring idea on paper, except that it's not when you're hearing the final clunky results. And there's also "This Is The House", which sounds like a reject from The Talking Heads post-*Remain In Light*. it actually says a lot about the 'Heads that the line between success and failure when it comes to such "white funk" forays is so... thin. But the study of this thin line will surely come in its own time... The point is that if a band like the Talking Heads is enjoying such a raving critical status today, I don't see why another act like Eurythmics couldn't be redeemed as well, at least partly. So the *ideas* behind those failed experiments in the album might have been worth it and you can't blame the band for trying a little too hard. Unfortunately, they are the sorts of ideas that will increasingly come to Lennox and Stewart's minds after *Sweet Dreams...", and there again, the execution will produce many mixed results, actually far more than on this second LP. There will always be a couple of great, catchy tracks and singles to redeem those failures, but nothing that will *wholly* save any of the subsequent records. Replicants always have an expiration date, and for some non-fans, 1983 was maybe the date Eurythmics should have been "retired" by a disgruntled Rick Deckard policing good music out there. Given that it's the exact same year our endearing Roy and Pris of eighties pop broke out with *Sweet Dreams...* (and also *Touch*, released the same year), it seems that, creatively speaking at least, 'replicants' appear to have an even shorter life in reality than the ones they are enjoying in Sci-Fi flicks. You just can't always 'replicate' souls, Annie and Dave, you need to have ones of your own, too. Skills, influence or production values won't necessarily give you one. There are things that all the money in the world can't buy, even during the eighties.

FIVE STARS An all-time classic As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review here, because others have already written wonderful stuff about this record and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. This album is just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 994 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 1 (starting with this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 4 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3 ]

Being a native French speaker, I've always been aware of the cultural importance of Jacques Brel, even though as a young and hip amateur of mostly *anglo-saxon* music, I was merely relegating him to a singer for older generations, someone who did not have anything relevant to teach the careless youngster that I was. But now that I've gotten older myself, comfortably lying on the couch of my cozy living-room as I'm writing this feature on my phone, I might obviously know a little better. The question is: why did I *really* change my mind about Jacques Brel? Is it because of my current, somewhat comfortable surroundings that I can fully appreciate *chansons* now? Have I turned into an unapolegetic *bourgeois* in the space of only two decades? Or is all of that irrelevant? If it's because I've turned into a *bourgeois*, the irony is priceless here. Indeed, Brel's wit, sharp eye and acerbic tongue were almost never better channeled than when he used those assets to paint vitriolic portraits of the elder generations of his own time--all those sad, well-off, self-righteous sods never able to admit they cornered themselves into lives ultimately devoid of any meaning. Truth be told, in Brel's songs are *also* other sorts of lessons, though, and ones I could have started learning as a young man. When the Belgian singer depicts younger characters, for instance, his powers of observation are still very much on point, both conveying the humanity and pathetic shortcomings of those characters through the same jeering-yet-elegant wink to his audience. Flawed dunces and endearing dollards can be found in all age groups. And Brel never missed a chance to remind us of this. Of course, there's a third, more elegiac streak running throughout his catalogue of tunes, which gave out all those signature songs most French speakers still remember today. And for those, Brel was as 'emo' as any tortured young rock act can get. Just listen to those tracks. Even if you're not speaking French, you might still sense the emotion seeping through the perfomance itself, if not through the words used (the man was also a fine actor who had learned this secondary trade exclusively through his experience as a performer giving it all onstage). If anything, English-speaking artists with a keen eye for details and an overall flair for the dramatic--artists such as Scott Walker, Nina Simone, David Bowie, Judy Collins or Nick Cave--certainly sensed this emotion we've just mentioned here. Hence their wonderful covers of Brel's *repertoire*. Recorded live in 1964 at the legendary Parisian venue *L'Olympia*, this record, as short as its original version was, does a very fine job displaying the three different streaks of songcraft we've spotted up there. Subsequent CD versions later included parts of the show left out from the original 30-minute album, with Brel staples such as "Les bonbons", "Mathilde", " Les bigotes", "Les bourgeois", "Jef" and "Au suivant". But even without those popular extraneous cuts, this live album is essentially Jacques Brel at his best. "Les vieux" (*Old Folks*), about old-timers waiting for death, is for example one of his cruellest songs, because as heartwrenching and detailed as the lyrics are, they can also elicit many mocking snarls in response. Dark comedy and tragedy go hand in hand throughout the tune, whose chorus revolves about a clock relentlessly counting the seconds left before the final demise, nicely supported by a piano motif insisting on each of those fateful seconds. Musicality is rarely forgotten in Brel's *oeuvre*, as shown in most of those cuts here, even though such oeuvre is first and foremost narrative-driven in nature. Death is also central in two other songs, "Le dernier repas" and "Tango funèbre". The first track pictures the narrator's "last meal" with his entourage, the second depicts his burial, and both are unforgettable lessons in songwriting, ones that Nick Cave, as a connoisseur of Brel's body of work, probably remembered when he penned the similarly-themed "Lay Me Low" for *Let Love In*.  Freeloaders and sycophants shedding crocodile tears unavoidably find their way into the afflicted crowd in those songs, closely watched by Brel's ghost. This makes the titular 'tango' in the second track, already a wonderful piece of music, even more gripping, chilling and wry. Old parasites in funerals aside, younger people are also mocked during the gig, as in "Les Timides" (*Shy people*), where inapt wannabe lovers make fools of themselves under Brel's unforgiving eye ("they just blush and *crawfish*", the singer tells us--yes, "crawfish" is used as a verb here, which is just as grammatically wrong or off-kilter in French as it is in English). And both age groups seem to be derided in "Les jardins du casino" ("In The Casino's Gardens"), a precise study of bourgeois pettiness that goes from micro to macro in its ironic breadth. As great as those tracks are, however, this live album wouldn't be the historical document it is today without two songs counting among the most famous Brel ever penned whenever he decided to dive headlong into full epic scope. The first of those songs, "Amsterdam", was actually never recorded in a studio, so what we have here is the definitive version, and it does not take a seer to understand why this sweeping tale of sailors and whores rubbing shoulders (and more) in the midst of a drunken, lascivious haze didn't need a studio recording after this live capture at the Olympia venue. Brel's voice is incredible here, each and every one of its inflexions adding weight and meaning to the words sung or yelled. And the orchestra supporting that voice is the *coup de grâce*, its head-spinning instrumentation placing you right in the middle of this grotesque waltz of beautiful losers. You can almost see the lights and lanterns of the harbour behind the dancers. In three minutes, you've been to the Netherlands and back, and it's a trip you will never forget. As for the second legendary track, "Le plat pays" (*The Flat Country*), a very personal ode to Belgium--slow, grim and yet quite tender--there *is* a studio version of it, contrary to "Amsterdam". But this live rendition, backed up by strings circling above the desolate land like so many flocks of crows, equals it, if it doesn't actually surpass any other version available today. *Olympia 64* is therefore one of the best entry points into Brel's whole body of work, and as such, deserves to be remembered as the timeless classic that it is. One could argue that studio albums *Ces gens-là*, *N*4 (La valse à mille temps)* or the later rerecording of old songs *Ne me quitte pas* could be equally relevant if you wish to get acquainted with the inspired and inspiring Belgian singer. Either those, or any of the comprehensive compilations sold out there. But if first, you want to sense the powerhouse that Brel was as a live performer, *this* is the record to start with. It is by no means a rock 'n roll album. Actually, it's almost the opposite in every way. But for anyone interested in the French language, or international novelty curios, the emotions such a record provides are not so far off the mark compared to more "modern" strands of music. Ask David Bowie, Nick Cave or Nina Simone if you're still having doubts about the whole thing. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 993 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 2 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 4 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3 ]

FIVE STARS A personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 991 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 3 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 4 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3]

Oh well. *1999*. Released in 1982. If through this title, Prince wanted to predict music as it would sound seventeen years later, that's not exactly how everything turned out, is it? That minor grudge aside, it's hard to miss the carpe diem *concept* behind the album. *1999* is a record that wants you to have sex, because, hey, that's one of the best thing our short lives have to offer, is it not? It is also speaking from a cold war vantage point, hence the criticism of "politicians" found in some lyrics here and there, even if such quick statements might just be useful pretexts for more fucking (up, around, and well, just good old straight-up fucking itself). If the end of the world is coming soon, whether at the turn of the millenium or earlier, we'd better enjoy what's left of our lives and party *hard*, after all. This here is the bulk of Prince's *D.M.S.R* program (a track from the album that reads *Dance, Music, Sex, Romance*), an overall theme also nicely introduced in opener and legendary single "1999", where the Minneapolis sex-crazed, short-statured genius reminds us that anyone is "carrying a bomb' these days, nuclear or not, and that as a result, anyone can die in the next hour or the next minute. When U say it this way, Mr. Nelson, it indeed sounds like a good idea to take your sweet time and wallow in all those hedonistic long tracks celebrating love, lust, sex, romance and everything in between. The thing is, *long* does not necessarily equate *good*. At least when it comes to music, if you take my meaning. Wink, wink. And *this* here is exactly where *1999* falls short, ironically. Because as groundbreaking as the record was, both for Prince and for pop music at large (with all those dry synth-driven hits, Afrika-Bambatta-inspired dirges, lustful torch songs, rock digressions and moist-yet-minimalistic hard-funk forays), yes, in spite (or because) of all of *that*, there's a also a streak of self-indulgence running through *1999* which might possibly make it a difficult listen in 2022, no matter what critics or hardcore fans are raving about when they're mentionning the album today. "Let's Pretend We're Married" is a nice track, with a soundtrack it's easy to picture St Vincent writing a few decades later. But did it need to last for 7 minutes or so, no matter what crazy antics Prince is doing during the performance? Besides, cuts like "Automatic", "DMSR", "Lady Cab Driver", or "All the Critics Love U In New York" are not *that* good musically speaking in the first place. And most of them still run even far longer than 7 minutes. Or if they don't, they sound *as if they do*. Never a good sign when you're watching the clock while "doing it". The only exceptions to that overall issue are the first two tracks, and the fact that they are opening the album is not so much a blessing in disguise as it is a curse for the record's overall balance. "1999" is a bouncy masterpiece, and if you can't shake your rump to it, it means you're probably dead already. And "Little Red Corvette", Prince's first crossover hit to rock and mainstream charts in a long list of many, has *that* stellar chorus going for it. But after that early point, in terms of obvious hits and nudges to a casual listener's ears, zilch, zero, nada. For certain genres, this is not necessarily a problem. But when you claim to be writing and playing grand pop statements, it kind of becomes one. The jump from "Little Red Corvette" to "Delirious" is just jarring, for example. What is that ridiculous happy-go-lucky pseudo-mock-rockabilly synth riff? And, er... wait... What? Was that *thing* a single, too? Really??? There are indeed a few "endearing" curios in *1999*, which probably triggered Prince's fans to unabashadly label it as a masterpiece because they thought those intriguing yet somewhat half-baked compositions had something "different" in them compared to other more famous cuts. Chiefly among those weird songs is the interestingly ambient and ambiguous "Something In The Water (Does Not Compute)", sounding as if Kraftwerk mated with Otis Redding under Devo's voyeuristic leer, not so bad if you like such kinky set-ups in your sex life. To which you might also add "Free", a Motown-like ballad with a nice piano part but not much else in terms of memorable stuff. A change of pace, a missionary-position sort of statement, if you will. Of course, those flaws are sometimes amplified by appalling lyrics here and there. Prince, being the piece of work that he was, often considers his romantic conquests (real or fantasized) as so many inerchangeable objects for his own narcissitic lust. No, women are not "beautifully complex", they're just different one from the other, just as men are. And if they don't always cater to your every need, it's not because of "something in their water", you prick. They're not bonzai trees, for chrissake. However, as ludicrous as those immature ditherings are, such paranoid rants can sometimes spawn striking poetic images once in a while. In "Lady Cab Driver", for instance, just as the singer is fantasizing about 'doing it' with the titular character, he starts to *dedicate* each thrust of his hips to everything life has for us (yes, you read that correctly), both the good and the not-so-good. The list goes from politicians dooming our world to greedy billionaires, from God to nature, and finally, from his lover to himself and his own shortcomings (with a surprisingly candid admission he wishes he was "as tall and handsome" as his brother on one particular thrust--quite the precious psychological nugget for all wannabe shrinks out there). Sublimation of our instinctual death drives through sex has never been better depicted. Too bad the music (all that lazy funk set on "automatic' mode behind) is just... so-so. This is not exactly the case of finale "International Lover", where Prince pictures himself as a pilot of his own private Sex Airlines company. The singer won a Grammy for his impressive performance on this slow extravaganza, as tongue-in-cheek corny as it is tongue-in-your-mouth exhilarating. Honestly, Prince deserved that trophy, so good he is when he whispers and taunts his lady prey to get on board with him, moaning, howling and orgasming at the very end, just as their plane is reaching its pleasurable destination at last. A place called "Satisfaction", by the way--yeah, that same tropical island Mick Jagger kept yearning and yelling after, to no avail... Yet, as good as that destination is, once you've just spinned that track, you don't necessarily want to come back to it for your next holidays. It's a fun listen the first time around, we'll grant you that. But it's also *another* long-winded proposition coming at the end of an album almost exclusively filled with other such long jams and whatnot. As you and I know, promising trysts often end up being nothing but one-night-stands, even when the sex was good on that night. That's where hedonism soon starts to lose its edge, as is the case here. Fortunately, Prince was too eager to please to repeat the same mistakes twice, no matter how commercially successful *1999* turned out to be. "Sign 'O" The Times" had a similar concept, but it was so varied, so adventurous stylistically speaking, that its also admittedly long songs fare better today in comparison. "Parade" was a mixed affair, but it proved the funky midget was able to pen far shorter tracks that could still be impressive, whether in their sonic experimentations or their display of pop instincts. And *Purple Rain* was the best those two worlds had to offer, the exact balance Prince needed to reach right after *1999*. We won't go further after this eighties period, though. Even when a music review forces you to elaborate on sex and other earthly pleasures, there's still some minimum decency to preserve. It's not how long and how often you're doing it that counts. It's how much you can genuinely enjoy the whole thing. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 990 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 3 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 5 (including this one for its "historical" importance, even if I doubt it will make the final cut...) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3]

For those who weren't there at the time, it's a little difficult describing how fresh and simply "out there" Björk's *Debut* felt when it came out in 1993. The difficulty is twofold: first, even though the former Sugarcube member drew heavily on the budding UK dance and electro scene for her early sonic explorations, that idiosyncratic voice of hers and its oh-so-Icelandic mannerisms were so powerful, so unique, that they could transcend any of the clichés picked out of her toy box to build the different soundscapes of her first solo effort. It's a voice everyone is familiar with now, whether you're a fan or not. But *at the time*, it was just something unheard of, even if you were a little aware of the Sugarcubes somehow. And it didn't even matter if some discrete parts of this first album already sounded somewhat *dated*, perhaps willingly, as with those tongue-in-cheek UK-club-scene inspired titles such as "Crying", "Big Time Sensuality" or "Violently Happy"--not to mention that naked cover of the cheesy Broadway novelty standard "Like Someone In Love", with only a simple harp to support Björk's extravagant ad-libs recorded in one take (small blunders included). The sheer originality of that voice, its harmonic instincts, along with its crystal-clear, youthful, Lolitaesque timbre--all of this could break through any wall, champagne glass or heart in the close vicinity. And just as importantly, that voice could sell any sort of music it chose as a backdrop, as long as the latter was decently written. So, in a way, it didn't really matter who Björk made this album with, even though Nellee Hooper did an excellent job co-writing half of the tunes and arranging all of them--his production chops here fortunately drawing more from an overall Massive Attack-level of quality than any of that hackneyed stuff he was responsible for in Soul II Soul. The Sugarcubes had just been a training run for Björk. Now she was embracing a promising future, being free to choose her collaborators as she saw fit for whatever was on her mind. Speaking of the future... The *other* difficulty when it comes to a retrospective take of *Debut* is to try to ignore everything that came after so as to assess it on its own terms. It's a near-impossible task. *Post*, *Homogenic* and *Vespertine* were genres of their own, the moments Björk burned her ships behind her for good so as to never turn back (if one of those albums is missing in this list of 1001 albums, it's just a crime). Those records are so striking and wonderful that *Debut* is a litlle pale in comparison, as flashy and eccentric as it first looked when it came out. Still, a large taste of the good things to come is still present in this record, and, unsurprisingly, those songs are the ones holding out better today. "Human Behaviour" is a quirky existential hit, as if Björk was a toddler playing with a Swiss clock, winding and rewinding it until the right joyful noise comes out. And I could listen to that bouncy timbal-sort-of-sound pattern for years, just as I could listen to Talvin Singh's lush, strings-and-tabla arrangements in "Venus As A Boy" for decades. This deceptively simple and tender song about an androgynous lover, one of Björk's greatest tunes, indeed marks a turning point where, for the first time ever, maybe, so-called "world music" was not used as a conceptual gimmick, but as a fresh, spontaneous impulse to fully embrace the sounds of this small blue planet, as varied as those sounds are. Björk is truly the first "global" artist to ever become a superstar. And more than any PR plan or conceptual blurb attached to what she was doing, this philosophy was translated into the music first and foremost.  For all its minor shortcomings, *Debut* is actually a very rare case in music history, one where an artist manages to push the enveloppe while still retaining their spontanity. The results of this rare combination are both playful and organic. "One Day", for instance, expertly uses a William Orbit style of ambient techno to paint the picture of an elated, wide-eyed messiah dreaming about a hopeful future. The song *is* naive, there's no arguing about that. And yet, it never makes you want to snarl or smirk, so enticing it is. Utopia is in our hands, you just need to believe in it. As for "Aeroplanes" and "The Anchor Song", they channel decades of jazz flourishes into their fabric and turn them into mere children's games, as easy on the ear as they are evocative on the mind. "The Anchor Song", in particular, is a miniature masterpiece, its barebones horn section displaying a minimalistic poetry that is all more fitting given the subject matter: Björk can only feel at home while bathing in an ocean, a paradox for many, but not for the romantic she is at heart. Maybe for certain cynical types out there, this sounds a trifle like a Sublime101 course. But it's a lesson the Icelandic songwriter will refine again and again in the future, starting with "Hyperballad" on the next record. It all starts there, with this track. And even before that, *Debut* remains a fountain of youth and potentialities, even today. *Here* is the deep lesson that makes the album an essential listen for both young and old souls of this world. Births, beginnings, eclosions, take-offs--you name them--have rarely felt any better than on this one. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 989 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 4 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 5 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3]

When listening to *Maxinquaye*, Tricky's historical first solo LP, it quickly dawns upon you that Adrian Thaws could not have chosen a better stage name. Almost thirty years after this feat of an album, it indeed remains *tricky* to qualify what makes the latter one-of-a-kind. Freshly out of Massive Attack, where he had previously honed his soft, surreal, passive-aggressive style of rapping, and having found a rare pearl to counterbalance his raspy vocals with the clear-voiced, wispy singer Martina Topley-Bird, Thaws took the trip-hop formula he's never been at ease with, and soured it with massive doses of his own obsessions and paranoia, here taking the shape of altered-state-fueled rants filled with striking turns of phrases. In an astonishing twist, this postmodern rendition of voodoo blues enacted through samplers and sequencers makes for a stifling yet also often oneiric experience, both musically and lyrically. We won't delve too much into the lyrics here, as other reviews have made an excellent job explaining why they were so interesting and personal, but from Thaws' gravelly grunts complaining that "MTV goes too fast" for his own bodily rhythms, up to the many allusions to drugs, sexual dysfunctions and the sad state of England during the nineties, *Maxinquaye* indeed caught the zeitgeist of those disillusioned years like almost no other record at the time. Tricky here gave birth to a LP that is timeless in many different ways--as a loose post-apocalyptic narrative, as an organic feast unafraid of its own little dark corners, and as a groove record pointing the way for several subsequent acts playing "black" music (in all senses of the word, from soul to rap to industrial to post-punk). The bulk of Thaws' DIY message was: do not follow the usual guidelines, and it is one that is still resonating today with acts such as King Krule or Young Fathers, long after 'trip hop' itself is dead and gone. Minus one minor misfire--to which we'll come back later on--the A-side of the album is certainly worthy of its overall legend. Opener "Overcome"--a reinterpretation of Thaws' memorable lyrics in Massive Attack's "Karmacoma"--is a floor-tom-propelled marvel soaked in lush, mysterious synth rivulets and eddies sounding like so many pagan flutes. Tricky himself is nowhere to be heard on the track, there's just Topley-Bird's acid-tinged vocals to lighten the dark proceedings. For anyone remembering Thaws' original verse on Massive Attack's track, it was as if his female collaborator was here playing the role of a graceful sybill possessed by a devilish, fuming spirit speaking incantations through her mouth. And even if you were not familiar with "Karmacoma", the contents of those incantations against the "west" and its lack of spirituality hit the mark from the get-go. Next in line, "Ponderosa" displayed a monsoon of moist and relatively agitated tropical percussions celebrating a hedonism all too suspect not to betray the existential malaise that lies underneath it all. "I'll drink 'til I'm drunk, and I'll fuck 'til I'm senseless", Topley-Bird singspeaks. Both erotic and claustrophobic, the track is an admirable showcase for *Maxinquaye*'s many ambiguities and suspended/suspenseful moments. A little further down the line, "Hell Is Round The Corner" is another reinterpretation of Thaws' lines found in Massive's *Protection* album. It is worth noting here that this cut spins the same Isaac Hayes sample as the one used by Portishead for their hit single "Glory Box", a borrowing of "Ike's Rap II"'s organ riff played over a descending bass line (it was a coincidence that both projects used the same sample, apparently). But *Maxinquaye*'s use of Isaac Hayes is so smart, so well-arranged, and so perfectly in tune with Thaws and Topley-Bird's vocals about public and private hells, that the results are actually as good as "Glory Box" while managing to sound *way* different from it. If both cuts thus retain the same basic ingredient at their core, none of them can be deemed as superior to the other, and it's almost a miracle the two songs can exist side by side without one intruding on the other in your memory. Right after, the lascivious "Pumpkin"--featuring Alison Goldfrapp--both namechecks and samples The Smashing Pumpkins, infusing much welcomed twangy guitar digressions to the laid-back formula (a rock influence that sounds far different from the one on "Black Steel", but more on that later). As for "Aftermath", it is another killer track, taking its sweet time to mesmerize the listener with its flute solos over a promiscuously slooooow funk backdrop. And so on... Many other songs in the record have those sorts of incredible ideas, even the less impressive ones crammed towards its end. Because, yes, as much as *Maxinquaye* is groundbreaking, it admittedly still drags a little in its second part, to put things rather bluntly. We won't name the tracks responsible for this overall lessening of quality, because they're not *that* bad. It's just that shorter versions of them would have done the job right without killing the overall flow. Moist, claustrophobic ambiences, scratchy samples, and dreamy solipsistic delusions are still very much to the fore on those later developments, but one can't help thinking Thaws would have made *even more* of an impression if he had applied a little self-editing for those specific forays. We also take issue with the third track of the album, "Black Steel", a clunky, repetitive, alt-rock cover of Public Enemy that overstays its welcome, going far too long for no discernible reasons. The concept was good, maybe--suddenly, here come all-out rock guitars and drums for a rap cover, and this in the middle of so-called 'trip-hop'--but the inclusion of this somewhat hackneyed track so soon, right in the third slot, could have killed *Maxinquaye*'s momentum if the rest had not been so convincing as a whole. To his defense, Tricky has always been a very instinctual artist, not bothering too much about rhyme or reason in his sylistic inclusions and digressions. Just like for his lyrics, you either take it or leave it, so to speak, and this might just be as good as it is, to be honest. Because, for all our little complaints up there, you can't really blame Thaws for taking risks. Indeed, that uncompromising stance of his is also the reason the album ends with offerings as impressive and uncompromising as the droney, psychotic "Strugglin'", followed by that unexpected last-minute balm "Feed Me", whose soothing yet still uneasy music-box-like chimes echo throughout the mist long after the album is over. For all the minor drawbacks in *Maxinquaye*, there are still many treasures of this kind to dig out of the rainy, desolate beach at the end of the world that this legendary record is at heart. You may uncover a few secondary trinkets half-buried in the sand here and there, but they won't tarnish the gold you're still able to find out of the place. That's why gold-diggers keep on returning to that beach after all these years, and rightly so. Soul-searching is an endless quest, and as such, *Maxinquaye* is as endless a statement as it should be. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 988 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 5 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 5 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 3]

Sorry, I tried. I really, really tried. But Elvis Costello does nothing for me, and this album as a whole did not even interest me enough to make me want to write a complete review. It's not even that it's bad (sometimes it's interesting to explain *why* you think a record is not for you). It's just that, apart from very, very rare highlights towards the end ("Lipstick Vogue", "Night Rally" ), the music on *This Year's Model* is neither groundbreaking nor particularly well written. For an album with such a reputation, I found the whole thing a bit tame, honestly (God, how downright *cheesy* those organ's 7th chords trimmings are sounding now). One quickly suspects that the critical sucess of this rockabilly rehash was just a fluke, Costello being just lucky enough to profit from the convenient coincidence of playing so-called "unpretentious" music at the exact same time punk surged. The problem is that, as unpretentions as the music is, it is neither powerful, nor sophisticated, nor subtle, nor anything else, to be frank (part from "Lipstick Vogue"'s conclusion maybe). And Costello's voice can be annoying at times, even though I admit it may become an acquired taste for some listeners. As for the lyrics, they're fine overall, with some striking one-liners here and there (a lot of them about Elvis' jealous obsessions, which got me worried for his partner, to be honest). Yet most of the compositions are just too linear and predictable to seal the deal for me. They simply don't make me feel anything, and "lip service" won't be something you'll ever get for me here. I always try to keep an open mind, but clearly, I don't see what the fuss was all about. What we have is more than competent musicianship, of course, even talent. But if you want to select a list of 1001 albums you should absolutely listen to, there are probably twice as many albums worthier of your time out there. Life's too short to waste it on stuff you consider bland. My loss, maybe. But that's the way it is for me. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 987 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 5 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 5 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 4 (including this one)]

You see those low-life drunkards having their habits in your favorite bar downtown? Once in a while, you may happen to stumble upon one who is actually interesting, funny, and even surprisingly witty--all in all, a nice guy, if not a *totally* articulate one. With such good company, you can talk about anything without ever feeling any judgemental posture from the other side. Besides, the man is lucid enough to know he's anything but a role model, and he's not one to shy away from his own life mistakes. Which is refreshing. So if you're available, and in the right mood for this, you may elect to have a wild night out with the alcoholic daredevil, having all sorts of mishaps and adventures together as you crawl from one dive to the next. It's quite fun. The thing is, in the morning you probably won't remember much of what transpired the night before--and you might even regret having painted the whole town red, if only for that goddamn hangover you're having to put up with now. Oddly enough, this might not be the case with your new friend. Bump into him a few days later, and he'll remember everything that went down that night with a knowing smile. But the thing is, can you believe the guy? Can you? If *this* was the effect intended by Tom Waits for *Nighthawks At The Diner*, it is an unmitigated success. Recorded in a studio, but with a live audience of friends and acquaintances Waits had invited for the occasion, the album's fundamental conceit nicely sums up its author's main paradox: loose and unhinged and uncensored on the surface, but--if you dig just a little deeper--far more in control than what he first lets on. This release has the *feel* of a genuine live album recorded in a smoky jazz club--with a real audience hooting, clapping and laughing at Waits' wisecracks between the numbers. But to a certain extent, the whole thing is only a simulacrum, the auditory equivalent of a WWF tournament. It's hard to *believe* in it, just as it's hard to believe Waits was *genuinely* drunk during the performance, all actor-studio-level rants and inebriated stammerings aside. And even if Waits *was* under the influence, it's quite easy to tell how every slip of the tongue, every slur, ever mumble, were actually nothing but calculated moves, parts of an overall script Waits had in his head from the get-go. It's a great script, with chunks of it maybe improvised on the spot. But it's a script nonetheless. All of this ties in with general assessments many have made about Waits. According to his unofficial biographer Barney Hoskyns, \"Tom Waits is as much of a character created for his fans as it is a real man\", his \"persona of the skid-row boho/hobo\" being an \"ongoing experiment in performance art\". Admittedly, the line between performance and authenticity might be a little thinner than this somewhat simplistic explanation. Mick Brown, a music journalist from Sounds who interviewed Waits in the mid-1970s, noted that Waits \"had immersed himself in this character to the point where it wasn't an act and had become an identity\". But whatever the case may be, such a fundamental amibiguity is discernible in *Nighthawks At The Diner*. On the double album's first two sides, this trick, this illusion--if indeed there is one--holds up with some great effects overall. It's easy to suspend your disbelief while listening to Waits making an \"Emotional Weather Report\" about his sad mental state (and his appartment's state of disarray, too!). As it's easy enjoying his performance when he narrates a drunken road trip \"On A Foggy Night\". Those early cuts are more spoken than sung, yet the words are so good, the Bukowskian writing so rich and detailed, that it's easy to feel as exhilarated as the audience heard on tape. Funny lines abound, in and between the songs (the rant about masturbation is priceless, and so is the one about the suspicious food found in the nightly LA joints making up the scenery of most of the songs). After those singspeak cuts, \"Eggs And Sausage\" and \"Better Off Without A Wife\" show a slightly different side of Waits, one where he actually *sings*, and his vocals are just perfect, both raucous and melodic. The parts where he skats even prove he could have been just as impressive as a singer performing with a clear voice, even though it's an avenue he never really explored during his career. \"Eggs And Sausages\" is also very endearing as a composition, with its chorus made of the different food orders overheard by the narrator as he sits alone in the titular diner, having passing thoughts about the lover who left him. Of course, all of this--album title included--is a wink to Edward Hopper's painting *Nighthawks*, a wink also obvious in the album's centerpiece \"Nighthawks Postcards (From Easy Street)\", a long hard-bop dirge filled with memorable snippets and wasted bravura moments. The only difference is that the legendary mystery displayed by the painting is here replaced with a sense of ironic burlesque. The whole project is a parody in that sense, too, even without the fake concert affair. Unfortunately, by the second record in the lot, the whole thing blurs into a formless ensemble of less striking cuts, just like those memories of yesterday's wild night that don't make a shred of sense on the next day. The turns of phrase that you thought were so witty on the first songs start to wear a little thin. Waits' puns about the \"cracks of dawn\" shedding some unflattery light on the titular nighthawks are hilarious at first, but when you hear two or three variations of them on side 3 or 4, they becomes a little too familiar--as is the man's weird drunken obsession for \"swizzle sticks\" and \"naugahyde\" covering stools and armchairs. Make no mistake, the writing is still stellar on many moments. But it's hard to decide whether its obfuscating obliqueness on a whole is the result of it having drunkard narrators, or it just being penned by a lazy author who didn't even bother to organize the admittedly beautiful mess in his mind. Likewise, the jazz band behind is a more-than-competent crew. But nothing that they're playing is really standing out. Everything is flattened; piano, saxophone and upright bass solos come and go without leaving much of an impression; and if the groove sounds good, it still remains performative, unoriginal and safe throughout. There's one notable exception when the sax player expertly imitates the sound of a car whizzing by the narrator on a highway at some point. But such moments are too short, too far, and too few. The real last track stands out, though. It's a cover of country singer Tommy Faile's ghost story \"Big Joe And Phantom 309\", the sort of spooky tale drunks will tell to each other at the very end of the night, just as their inebriation has turned them all to easily-swayed children. As such, it's a nice capper for the album, right before Waits gives credits to his musicians over an utimate instrumental piece. Yet as focused as this last effort is, musically and thematically speaking, this track comes too late to make up for all the meandering moments right before it. *Nighthawks At the Diner* remains an interesting listen overall. But as an *essential one*, or as an entry point into Tom Waits' oeuvre, it is probably far from being the most obvious choice. That being said, very few things are *obvious* when it comes to Waits. There are layers over layers in his body of work, and some might look a little too opaque or quizzical for certain listeners. Sometimes, you don't really have a choice deciding who you are going to have fun with at the bar. You take the first tipsy guy or gal standing in front of the counter, and roll with it. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 986 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 5 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 (including this one, even though chances are that a *different* Tom Waits release will make the final cut) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 4]

Can't really write a decent review about this one. During the early nineties, I was into American indie/grunge acts, but I was also interested in former eras, such as the punk movement and sixties pop. And I could also enjoy some britpop acts. But not *this one*. The first time I listened to Suede, I found their mannerisms pompous, and I did so not only for *Dog Man Star*, but starting from this band's debut album, actually (when the second one was panned, it was as if everyone was stating what was obvious to me from the get-go). Of course, at the time, I didn't know a lot about Bowie and The Smiths, who were *huge* influences on Suede. Since those days, I have learnt to appreciate those very influences (especially Bowie). But the irony is that, because of what I know now, it's *all the more difficult for me* to enjoy Suede these days. When I listen to them *now*, I just can't help thinking they're still a somewhat bland variation of earlier, far more impressive acts. With very awkward and dated production values, to boot (some of the effects on the vocals and guitars are just plain horrible). And I'm *still* a little annoyed by the overall mannerisms, mostly because I find a lot of them stale, shallow and irritating (Anderson's overkill *outré* voice is grating to the extreme sometimes, even on one of the few decently written songs from the album, such as Animal Nitrate for instance). Suede are just not as fresh and exciting as the models they are desperately imitating. And because of all this, I can't manage to find any *substance* in the songs of this record, as hard as I've tried. Oh, I know that Bowie himself once praised them. But it won't even make me change my mind. When Bowie praised Suede, he wasn't exactly in the best creative spot of his career anyway. Maybe it was just a way for him to send all those winks Suede had made to him back to them. At the time I didn't care. Now, I do, somehow. But even Bowie could make blunders (he actually made a lot of them in the later parts of his career). And this brings me back to the original influences informing this album. Sorry, but I'm always gonna prefer the originals... How ironic. It seems that Suede were never there in the right time for me. I know they've been critically reevaluated, and they probably at least deserve some of the *current* praise for going against the grain during their heyday. But it's still impossible for me to genuinely appreciate their music. Sometimes, it's as simple as that. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 985 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 5 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 4 Albums on which I feel my judgment is muddled by my past forays into specific genres instead of others: 1 (including this one) Technically, I shouldn't even be grading those records. But *some* might end up on my final list for their somewhat *objective* cultural importance, who knows?]

FIVE STARS An all-time classic As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 984 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 6 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 4 Albums on which I feel my judgment is muddled by my past forays into specific genres instead of others (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

Not much to say about this one. After *Astral Weeks* proved itself too complex for the charts and general audience of his time, Van Morrison chose a far more direct approach, adding a *huge* chunk of rhythm'n'blues to the formula. And to help him attain his goals, he found a stellar backing band in the Catskills, after following Dylan's steps over there (for a relatively small town, Woodstock seemed to have quite an impressive scene, which did not wait for that famous festival to thrive). Such a backing band behind Van Morrisson brings *a lot* to *Moondance*. The saxophone section--tenor, alto and soprano--is just doing an extraordinary job, all lush and sinuous, especially on the most memorable songs ("And It Stoned Me", "Caravan" , "Into The Mystic", "Glad Tidings", "Brand New Day"). Great performances overall. As for Van Morrison's voice, recorded in live takes throughout, it is technically perfect. You really believe he is a genuine American r'n'b singer. Well, except maybe on the title track, but it's probably because that cut is a little underwhelming compared to the rest, sounding more like a jazz parody executed in a second-tier club than a genuinely interesting cut (putting this song in slot number 2 was not the brightest idea in my honest opinion). That being said, even some of the least immediately striking cuts have something going for them. Case in point: "Everyone", with its clavinette and flutes heavily drawing on Irish folk influences. And lyrically, the songs are very interesting and personal, displaying a sort of down-to-earth mysticism about love, nature and mundane experiences. Such a thing doesn't even seem possible on paper. Yet Van Morrisson pulls it off effortlessly. The only reason I'm not giving this album five stars is because as far as I like albums with a single intent in mind, this one is just a little too one-note for me. After *Astral Weeks*' commercial failure, and from this point onwards, Van Morrisson would only take calculated risks, for better or for worse. And here, it shows. But even with that minor grudge in mind, this is definitely an album to listen to before you die. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 983 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 7 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 4 Albums on which I feel my judgment is muddled by my past forays into specific genres instead of others (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

As far as concept albums go, this one's a keeper. And it's a U.K. rap/grime concept album, to boot! My only minor reproach is that there are a few underwhelming tracks where the overall narrative takes over the music itself in terms of priority, especially towards the middle. But fortunately, this is not the case on the records' highlights. "It Was Supposed To Be Easy" is a striking opener, Mike Skinner's heavily accented yet clear-as-a-bell lad's voice doing wonders to set up the table and introduce the story *in media res*, as in most great short stories or novels. "Blinded By The Lights" is one of the best depictions of a drunken night ever penned this side of the pond--it's slow pace swaying you into the narrator's hallucinory state of mind as if you were there in that sleazy club with him. Far more straightforward, "Fit But You Know It" is a snarly hit with a catchy rock guitar sample. And "Dry Your Eyes" and "Empty Cans" end the yarn with the right amount of emotions, the latter even serving as a morality tale of sorts about free will and redemption. The strings arrangements on those two last tracks are very subtle, too. They're not strings for Hollywood stuff, they're strings for Mike Leigh or Ken Loach. Which is fitting here. As usual for those five or four-star reviews, I won't add much to what has already been written out there about this particular album. I even fear that I've spoiled the story a little with what I've written so far. But beyond that spoiler alert, what I found really interesting about this sophomore effort is that it was a different way for Skinner to depict that working class world he had already brilliantly explored in *Original Pirate Material*. Here this world of lads, lasses and geezers is viewed through the lens of a particular narrative, and such storytelling ambition often feels earned. Because Skinner keeps it sharp and simple, right as it should be given the topics he chose to deal with. It's a story about characters having mundane challenges in their social and love lives--characters having money issues, passing deluded thoughts and self-denial phases, not to mention addictions that might turn from a minor problem to a major one if left unchecked. But mostly, it's a story about simple folks. It's a rap opera, yes. But it's a rap opera about us as a people. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 982 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 8 (including this one--but only on the condition there's room for *Original Pirate Material*, too) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 4 Albums on which I feel my judgment is muddled by my past forays into specific genres instead of others (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

FIVE STARS An all-time classic. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 981 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 9 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 4 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

Sorry, I tried. I really, really tried. But The Verve does nothing for me, and this album is no exception. Nothing in *A Northern Soul* is groundbreaking or particularly well written, and the songs are just too linear and predictable to seal the deal for me. This... stuff simply doesn't make me feel anything. "How long will I run for?," Ashcroft complains during the opener. Too long, probably. And this here is only a first self-indulgent, lengthy dirge among many other ones on the album (all of them, actually?). That some people in here dare compare this excruciatingly boring record to Radiohead's *OK Computer* is baffling to me. Are people this tone-deaf??? I get that listeners have different tastes when it comes to harmony, composition and song structures. But c'mon, you gotta be kidding me here, nothing in this album is lively or truly dynamic. Nothing stands out. It's just a big blurry cloud throughout. Chords don't have a shred of originality in them, neither do most of the hackneyed dad-rock arrangements,. Lyrics have no substance, and vocal melodic lines are not interesting at all--they meander without anything catching your ear (and their delivery is a bit ridiculous sometimes, even though I have nothing against Ashcroft's voice per se). "This Is Music", The Verve tells us. Uh, OK. But is this *good* music? No. It's just very lame, pop-wise. And neither is it original production-wise. I'd rather listen to a drone from one of Sunn O)))'s lesser records for the rest of my life instead of having to listen to this again. At least a long guitar drone would provide an interesting atmosphere in the room... I'm pretty sure The Verve were themselves aware of their lack of skills as songwriters from the get-go. It's no surprise they used a sample from an orchestral version of an old Rolling Stones staple song on their next record to pen their only real hit, "Bittersweet Symphony". They *knew* they didn't have enough inspiration in them to create a song that would be both catchy and genuinely moving. So they had to steal a good idea somewhere to make it happen. I very rarely say that a band is overrated, because I know music is first and foremost a subjective thing. Yet here, I'm tempted to say so, to be honest. I always try to keep an open mind, but clearly, I don't see what the fuss is all about with The Verve. What we have with them is more than competent musicianship, of course. As in 'they can play instruments'. But if you want to select a list of 1001 albums you should absolutely listen to, surely there are twice as many albums worthier of your time out there. Life's too short to waste it on stuff you consider bland. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 980 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 9 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 5 (including this one) Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

"Listen Without Prejudice" Well, I just did. But apart from two songs, "Freedom! '90"--a soulful hit displaying as many catchy vocal hooks in a single track as ones found in Tame Impala's whole discography--and "Cowboy And Angels"--a lush synth-jazz cut about unrequited love with Bladerunner-like atmospherics--yes, apart from those two singles, this album can't hold your attention the way great albums do. Admittedly, its general sound holds out surprisingly well given the genre and era that spawned it: as a characteristically late 80s/early 90s production, the whole thing is relatively subtle at least. Yet apart from the two singles quoted up there, the rest--mostly comprised of ballads--doesn't have much to offer in terms of thrills or interesting emotions to go through. It's well-produced "elevator music". But it's elevator music nonetheless. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 979 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 9 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 6 (including this one) Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

Sure, this first stereo album by Presley is exquisitely recorded, especially for the year it was released. And Elvis has never sung better than on this one, apparently, adding range and nuance to his performance, hereby displaying vocal chops that were nowhere to be found in his earlier mono records. But the problem lies elsewhere: does anyone really think the songs on this record are superior to the all-time hits Elvis Presley had released during the fifties? Weren't the rougher vocals and more barebone instrumentation dating from those first singles and albums far more compelling than this mellow stuff here? Sure, it's OK to broaden your horizons... But even the cover of "Fever" feels lackluster compared to the earlier versions of that classic gem of a song. No wonder John Lennon said that Elvis symbolically died when he went to the army. Lennon was no deaf idiot, he knew that technically, there was nothing wrong with this album. But the spirit of early rock'n' roll was gone, and you couldn't fool sincere fans of the genre like him. Admittedly, there are a few bluesy cuts towards the end of that record that still make it an interesting listen for folks interested in that period. But there's also too much pop/doo-wop stuff watering down that early rock'n'roll dimension kids like Lennon longed for in the first place. Besides, the album is also somewhat obnoxious for being partly a PR plan from manager Colonel Parker so as to artificially (and successfully) revive the Elvis craze. After spending two years in the U.S. Army in Germany, Presley sure worked his ass off on that one to make sure his comeback would be worthwhile. But does that mean that the result should be a mandatory listen? Hard work is not always fruitful. And more worryingly, it seems that Dimery and the writers from "1001 Albums..." are often under the spell of promotional plans dating from way back when in their selections of so-called "important" records. And those PR plans shouldn't have a bearing on their critical assessment today. For chrissake, this stint here is the mother of all the PR shenanigans that followed, and it's a sixty-plus-year-old stint, to boot. Good music (or even "bad' music, for that matter) has nothing to do with this. This here is marketing, first and foremost. That people fell for it sixty years ago is understandable. But today??? There's another issue die-hard Elvis fans never consider when they put forward albums like these. Nobody ever thinks of the younger generations who might wonder why Elvis was such a phenomenon for their grandparents or great-grandparents. If you exposed them first to this album, they wouldn't get the picture at all. There are at least two or three records before it, during the fifties, that make a finer job explaining the brush strokes of the phenomenon that Presley was. And some of those records also have hidden gems that are far more intriguing or evocative than any of the stuff in *Elvis Is Back!*. Take "Blue Moon", on the very first LP, for instance. Finally, no one should forget that Presley also represented the "white" face of a black culture largely left in the margins of the "mainstream" at the time. And that, as such, his inclusion on this list should *at least* be complemented by the inclusion of lesser-known African-American artists. In a way, I'm delighted that this album has been suggested to me, because it's given me the occasion to discover who the first performer of "Fever" was. His name was Little Willie John, he's a half-forgotten figure, and yet his performance of the song was just brilliant, as brilliant as the one by Peggy Lee (and far more brilliant than the one on *Elvis Is Back!*). And the most important point comes now: anyone who thinks I'm exaggerating things when I (along many others) state that Elvis is still a symptom of the plundering of black culture should consider the following nugget: when you type "Fever" on Spotify, many versions of the song appear, by Peggy Lee, Elvis Presley, Michael Bublé and the likes... Yet Little Willie John's original version does not, at least not before dozens of other suggestions. If *this* is not a symbol of cultural appropriation, I don't know what is. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 978 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 9 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 7 (including this one--unless I have room for it, but it'd be for its historical importance only, and it will be at the very bottom of my list). Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

Nice progressive house/techno from the nineties. Not sure I have much to say about this, though. The thing is, I can't help feeling the writers of this 1001 albums list are a little misguided when it comes to niche genres or anything outside the realm of mainstream pop/rock. It's not that Underworld was an act unworthy of notice. It's just that, if you take into consideration the IDM scene of the last three decades, stuff from the Warp roster--to take one precise example--is criminally underrepresented by Dimery and the likes. I've seen the whole list of those 1001 albums. Where are the great records by Boards Of Canada, LFO, Aphex Twin or Oneohtrix Point Never? And even if you go beyond the realm of dance music for a broader take on electronica, there's still bands like Broadcast, PVT or Flying Lotus to take into account. And this is just from one label here. In my view, some of the earliest acts I've just quoted are sounding less dated than Underworld, and I'm pretty sure they were far more influent. The problem with forward-looking genres such as techno or house music is that, ironically, they quickly become a thing of the past. It takes a very indiosyncratic vision and a keen sense of originality to escape such a trap. Not everyone can be as prophetic as Kraftwerk, with their layers of self-irony, gracious minimalistic arrangements, and songwriting chops infused here and there. As I said, Underworld was a very decent act. "Pearl's Gate", for example, is a well-crafted drum'n'bass cut. "Blueski" is interesting as an ambient experimental loop. "Stagger", with its pop inclinations, is a nice closer. And in expanded editions, you have the iconic keyboard-riff-meets-boom-boom-extravaganza of "Born Slippy" (of *Trainspotting* fame). But where would I listen to any of these songs now? In a club? Nah, not groovy enough. In a dance music festival or a rave party? Nope, those "steady beats"--as one reviewer named them to describe half of those tracks--sound *way too steady* for both today. And here's the most important question: would you listen to this in your living room? No way for me, and I'm pretty sure that's the same answer for 90% of y'all. I can listen to groundbreaking electronic acts from 808 State to Jlin from an armchair and not feel ridiculous at all. But I'd feel a little daft having my speakers blare Underworld in my living room to be honest. Maybe in 1996 I wouldn't have. But in 2022? On a sidenote: Karl Hyde's daughter is playing in the amazing Black Country New Road these days. It's nice to see that one of the Underworld founders has passed the torch of his passion for music to his offspring, even if said daughter is using such passion for a radically different genre. The British scene has always been a great place for talented musicians, and since the last five years or so, it's been incredibly lively (especially now that we're finally out of that awful "landfill indie" era). But the last edition of *1001 Albums To Listen To Before You Die* was published in 2017 and it direly needs to be updated now, in my humble opinion. If I had a say, I guess I would take out Underworld to make room for the next generation. And I'm pretty sure Karl Hyde himself wouldn't hold too much of a grudge against me considering *some* of my choices. :) [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 977 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 9 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 6 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 8 (including this one). Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list if they're culturally important): 1]

Apart from his reputation as an extravagant, sometimes difficult rock artist with free-jazz and musique concrète proclivities, I didn't know the first thing about Frank Zappa. This record was a surprisingly pleasant listen. I've browsed through other Zappa album deemed important by certain critics and fans, and now I know that immediate pleasure is not the first thing that comes to my mind with these high-conceptual and/or tongue-in-cheek recordings. *Freak Out*, by the Mothers of Invention, is the only one of those records I found genuinely enjoyable on first listens. The rest is really, *really* for the fans, I think. Two things stand out in *Hot Rats*, though. As in *Freak Out*, the lush arrangements provided by horn and reed sections is a huge plus. But in *Hot Rats*, there's something that not even *Freak Out* can boast about, and it's the hard grooves. Some drums are in a funky mode that's particularly lively, almost krautrock in their intent. And when they don't, they swing in a slower yet as efficient fashion, hereby supporting jazzier cuts that are equally satisfying. I barely noticed all the tracks were all instrumental except one sung by Captain Beefheart. I was too much taken in the soundscapes. Obviously, I'm a rookie when it comes to Zappa, so I can't really judge this effort in a broader context. But I understand he's an acquired taste anyway, and you can't rush things with an artist as productive and unhinged as him. Let's just say that *Hot Rats* does sound like a promising entry point, at least, just like *Freak Out* was on a more classic-rock, partly parodic, mode. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 975 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 9 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 (including this one) Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 8 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 1]

Four stars An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. *Deep Purple In Rock* is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in hard rock. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 974 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 10 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 8 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 1]

Pass on this one. I know it's a landmark album for gangsta rap, and that it has a *huge* cultural importance for hip hop at large, and that its influence turning P-Funk into G-funk was enormous. Without this album, there's no *Doggystyle* by Snoop or the best Cypress Hill records, and that would be a damn shame. But somehow I always thought that *2001* was a far more pleasant and bouncier listen overall (the hits on that next record are a huge plus, too, and I can't see any of those catchy hits on *The Chronic*, honestly). Purists will probably tell me I'm a fool here, but I don't care. As a reply, I could argue that "conscious" rap from before that album did suffer a lot from the advent of that sort of sound, and that it was not necessarily good news for everyone at the time. In a way, I'd be be *more of a purist* than any of those contradictors would be then or now. And remember: nobody here would necessarily be right or wrong in their different stances, as it is most often the case with music anyway. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 973 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 10 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 8 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2 (including this one)]

"The lyrics have since been praised [...], but the band later said they did not gel well with the music and made the piece complicated for the sake of being so". This quote is from Wikipedia's page on the album. It is only about one song, but it could as well be applied to the record. Heck, it could probably be applied to Peter-Gabriel-era Genesis as a whole. But to stick to *Sell England By The Pound*, it's interesting to know that, by their own admission, the majority of the band members consider this album as a failure of sorts (a point confirmed many times on the Wikipedia page). And this is probably because, apart from very, very rare highlights here and there (most of them in "Firth Of Forth"), the music on *Selling England By The Pound* is not particularly well-written. Sure, it sounds complex and convoluted, but a single listen is enough to tell that the band actually just pasted different parts or jams together so as to create their overlong songs. This here is the very definition of bad writing and logically, the end result is horrendous in its lack of cohesion. As for the recording itself, it has aged very, very poorly. The flute solos sound a little cheesy, but they're not the worst part, the worst part being those terrible synth solos sticking out like sore thumbs in some of the most boring passages ever written in the prog-rock genre. Stupendous how so many people had such bad taste when they made this album a commercial success at the time. When it comes to vocals on the album, they are more than decent overall. However Gabriel's melodic lines are often not catchy or memorable enough to bring that cohesive fabric that's so direly needed here. Lyrics are fine, with many striking one-liners here and there (the last line of The Battle Of Epping Forest is indeed an interesting anti-climax). Yet most of the songs are too clunky to seal the deal for me. They simply don't make me feel anything. I always try to keep an open mind, but clearly, I don't see what the fuss is all about here. What we have is more than competent musicianship, of course, even talent. But if you want to select a list of 1001 albums you should absolutely listen to, there are probably twice as many albums worthier of your time out there. Life's too short to waste it on stuff you consider a little ridiculous. My loss, maybe. But that's the way it is for me. [Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 972 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 10 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 9 (including this one) Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2]

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. Up to 1966, The Byrds had enough assets in their game to consider they had already established the perfect formula in their very first LP, *Hey Mr Tambourine Man*, and that there was no reason for them to veer off-course three albums in after the success they had. That formula is that cliché most listeners still associate The Byrds with today: use Dylan's shortest, catchiest tunes, cover them by adding melifluous vocal harmonies that are complete u-turns from Bob's rough, nasal timbre and inflexions, wait for those covers to hit the charts, and then cash in. Of course, you could still replace Dylan with Pete Seeger and The Bible (see "Turn, Turn, Turn"), traditional tunes or everything in between. But in its core, the formula didn't change a bit. Not that individual members of the band were frauds and impostors as they performed those skilled transformations. Coming themselves from the US folk scene, they had learned how to translate those folk staples into a more pop-oriented language, but thanks to their original background, they could also instill those rendition with a much-needed sense of authenticity. Both serious and commercial, folk and rock, The Byrds were at the crossroads of everything the sixties were all about. With Gene Clark, The Byrds also had a main songwriter in their ranks, admittedly, and the covers were interspersed with originals, too. But even if Clark seemed like a competent songwriter in his own right, this didn't fool audiences. As influential as The Byrds were on the overall sound of the mid-sixties, they were first and foremost seen as performers. And it was never a problem. The sixties going as fast as they did, it soon became one, however. Especially when Gene Clark left the boat at the exact moment when true authorship started to become a huge plus for pop audiences on both sides of the Atlantic. After Clark's departure, Jim McGuinn and David Crosby had no choice but to step in and increase their songwriting output. That some reviewers have considered that the two guitarists were still in the process of learning the ropes of that trade in 1966 is a little baffling given how the originals on this album could easily be deemed superior to most of Clark's endeavors. The original songs shine throughout the whole LP, leaving many earworms in their trail, from enticing opener "5D" to the John Coltrane and Ravi Shankar-inspired "Eight Miles High", a cryptic track (partly written by Clark before he left) about soft drugs--a tune logically banned on the radio--often quoted as the the first psychedelic rock song ever penned. *Psychedelic*. The word is like that magic carpet on which most of the band members sit Ali-Baba style on the album's front visual. It is a promise to fly to outer worlds of the mind, a promise that's also in keeping with the Sci-Fi themes in some of the songs. "Mr Spaceman" is for instance a tongue-in-cheek country-rock pastiche of sorts referring alien abductions. And the fifth dimension of "5D" is one inspired by Einstein's foray into theoretical physics, not lysergic drugs, contrary to audience's expectations at the time. But such misunderstanding is not necessarily a betrayal of what the song--and the album to which it inspired the name--is all about. Open your mind. Feel that awe (and possible terror, too) when the gates of perceptions are blown far wide. As hackneyed and cliché that philosophy may read today, what's impressive about the album is how fresh, effortless and spontaneous the results of that preliminary foray into a new world appear today. That pop freshness is partly explained by the fact that the Byrds were instigators of that psychedelic trend, and not mere followers of it (the rougher and more garage-oriented version of that trend exemplified by The 13th Floor Elevators came out in the exact same year, for instance). And like many other instigators they were not necessarily understood as they should have been. Short yet insistent bridges and breaks with reverse-tape-recorded guitars, raga-like flourishes and other sitar-inspired riffs abound during the record. The move was challenging for general audiences, yet The Byrds took their chances, catching some fans and even music critics off-guard. The covers were also more interesting and riskier than anything that the band had ever attempted (no Dylan anthem to be heard there). It's a risk that paid off, generally speaking, and nowhere did it pay off more brightly than on that mysterious musical rendition of a poem by Turkish poet Nâzim Hikmet, a quite obscure reference for western audiences. "I Come And Stand At Every Door" is indeed as hypnotic as it is slowly powerful, yet never does it come off as a pretention dirge, so beautiful its intricate harmonies are. At its core, it is a miniature lesson in patience and meditation, one that Crosby would use to great effects again in his own song "Everybody's Been Burned" on the next album. But it's mostly one of many tracks on the album that manages to transcend tts sixties psychedelic context to become something a little more timeless than that, and one can only regret Crosby didn't *really* explore this trend further later on. Obviously, opening your mind also encourages a spaghetti-at-the-wall approach. Even as recently as the last ten years or so, some critics have indeed complained of the topsy-turvy nature of this record marking the Byrds' transition from folk-pop translators of Dylan's repertoire into psychedelic adventurers. But complaining about any lack of cohesiveness here might be missing the point, since the twists and turns in the tracklisitng are part of the appeal here devised for receptive souls tired by standardized listening (and thinking). It's the sort of standard The Byrds had actually set upon themselves during the earliest part of their career, and one can guess they were tired, too. Fortunately, it didn't take them long to find a way out. After *Fifth Dimension*, The Byrds would even use what they had learned from the recording of this preliminary masterpiece to great effects on their two next records, often heralded as their very best. I sometimes wonder why those records, which are a bit of a mess themselves, are never judged as harshly as *Fifth Dimension*. Maybe it's because it takes *more* time for certain minds to open, and that contemporary critical reaction only caught up with The Byrds once Crosby was out of the picture, namely with *The Notorious Byrd Brothers*, leaving the two previous LPs with a more "difficult" critical reputation. But the magic carpet started flying here, with this very album. And to this mind also tired of standardized thinking, it has never flown more beautifully than when it soared like this to the lysergic skies, and beyond them. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 971 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 11 (including this one). Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 9 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2]

Four stars and a half. An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. Highlights abound throughout this record, from that iconic opening played on synths on "Baba O'Riley" to the poignant, immediately gripping and memorable "Behind Blue Eyes", followed by epic closer "Won't Get Fooled Again". Like many classic albums by The Who, the whole might be just *a little* too grandiose and "over the top" to be digested in one single take, but this here is a very minor complaint. Just press pause once in a while to catch your breath, and then head right back into it. There are enough wonders and treasures inside this record to make it a worthwhile experience. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. *Who's Next* is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in The Who. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. if you haven't already. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 970 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 12 (including this one). Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 9 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2

What. A. Bore. Fest. A lot of things from the naughts won't age gracefully, you can bet your boots on it. And this very minor band (who happened to be at the right place in the right time, Mercury Prize or not) perfectly exemplify why this period was so far up its own ass that a lot of folks couldn't even *get* how good music actually worked. Fortunately, things have gotten far better now (and it's exactly *why* this list of 1001 albums needs to be updated a.s.a.p.) As many other reviewers here, I found the falsetto voice quite annoying or grating, but it's not even the main issue I'm having with Wild Beast. The real problem with this very pretentious band--whose intended sound should supposedly draw a little on "pop music" formulas to make any sort of sense--is that they can't write choruses. CHORUSES, guys! Something human, energetic or simply a little inviting to grab your attention, so as to bear with your all-too-precious cabaret-like dirges and over-the-top theatrical bullshit in between. Even blokes like Morrissey from The Smiths, or Matthew Bellamy from Muse (whose comparatively "wimpy" melodic lines could somehow be linked to what Wild Beasts' singer is attempting to do here) understood the sheer importance of that pivotal ingredient. C.H.O.R.U.S.E.S. Bear in mind that I mentioned Bellamy and Morrissey, and not Bowie, whose memory shouldn't even be associated with such a lame band, contrary to what I've read somewhere here. And please, oh please, don't tell me Wild Beasts avoided good choruses so as to not compromise their "artistic vision" or something. No, clearly, they couldn't write anything catchy melody-wise, it's so obvious when you're listening to this terrible, terrible album. The rhythm section is telling a different story, though. Drums and bass interactions are quite brilliant throughout this album, helped by decent guitar licks. But unless you're in certain genres (electronic music, jazz, really *experimental* rock or post-rock), you can't build good songs when only *this* is decent in your compositions. And you certainly can't build any good albums. This here is a lesson in *bad songwriting*. May it be a cautionary tale in the foreseeable future for any young band wishing to play in that late-naughts genre of dreampop/indie pop, if ever it comes back in style. But to be honest, I'm just hoping this day actually never ever happens. It's always a good idea to err on the safe side, kiddos. You've been warned! Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 969 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 12 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 10 (including this one, especially this one!!!!!) Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2

Four stars and a half. An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. Of course, it's a double album, so it's sprawling and lacking cohesion somehow. But the association of Lindsey Buckingham's sonic experimentations with Stevie Nicks or Christine McVie's pop stunners is an irresistible ticket, and one of Fleetwood Mac's most interesting records, right after the incredible artistic and commercial success that *Rumours* was. It's a little odd to think this album was released in the same years punk was proving its influence would have to be taken into account from now on (even as they were a hit machine, Fleetwood Mac was also a little anachronistic in their heyday). But in a way, it *also* makes sense that *Tusk* should be released in the same year as The Clash's *London Calling*, for instance. The relationships between the band members had become notoriously chaotic and strained, drugs and booze were a significant part of the album's budget, and Buckingham's songs proved he wanted to explore a more *abrasive* side of things. As a result of this particular "energy", this record goes over all the place, like the needle of a compass maniacally turning on itself. *Tusk* might not be a punk album sonically speaking. But its "spirit" is not so far off that mark. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. *Tusk* is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in Fleetwood Mac. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. if you haven't already. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 968 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 13 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 10

God, this didn't age well at all. The overall sound (gated drums, clean distortion on guitars, reverbed vocals...) is everything you can criticize about the eighties, and the crossover fusion compositions are hackneyed and cliché. That's too bad, because the socially conscious lyrics are very interesting. But the music is just awful. During those years, hip hop was starting to become what Public Enemy's Chuck D named as the "Black CNN". Of course, Living Colour were not so far from that objective themselves when it comes to their lyrics. But If you want to feel the true power of political messages uttered during those days, coupled with powerful sounds of Black America looking for true emancipation (even if some of those hip hop sounds also admittedly sound a little dated today), go to Public Enemy, BDP, the Disposable Heroes Of Hiphoprisy, The Goats and other bands like this instead. And if really you want to delve further into rock-funk-rap crossover landmark albums with a political agenda, maybe go a few years later, when the genre was finally out of its awkward infancy with stuff like Rage Against the Machine or Body Count. You can't blame Living Colour from trying to open doors that had not been opened before (apart by Parliament/Funkadelic, maybe) But sometimes, beginnings are not the most interesting moments of an overall story... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 967 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 13 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 11 (including this one)

Four stars  An album which still holds its own many years after it was released, as bizarre (and wonderful) as it is, and an essential listen for anyone interested in experimental or groundbreaking music from the seventies. The only problem is that, contrary to other important names in that genre and era (Can obviously comes to mind here), it's not always an easy listen when you're going through this record in one take. One can even argue that some tracks are just weird just for the sake of being weird. That being said, it would be unfair to dismiss the *whole* of Faust IV, since there are also many moments on it that are mesmerizing, groovy, fun, mysterious, and even strangely addictive after several listens. The variety of surprising textures and arrangements displayed is a huge plus, navigating between rock, jazz, proto-techno and proto-punk still sounding as fresh and original as it did in 1973, as many other reviewers here pointed out ("proto" means part of the record is oddly prophetic of sounds to come). If only for this, it's a worthwhile listen, even if you'll never come back to it again. There's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. Faust IV is for anyone who has even a remote interest in krautrock. Heck, it even seems they invented the term themselves with the name of the first track. A sure sign it's an essential listen. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 966 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 14 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 7 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 11  Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2

Part RJD2, part Daft Punk, Part 2ManyDJs, part Boards of Canada, Mylo's sole album is solid entry overall in the IDM/house/electronica genre. The first two tracks are enticing and mellow, the ones that follow ("Muscle Cars", "Drop the Pressure" and "In My Arms") are absolute dancefloor bangers, and the rest of the album flows neatly from one song to the next. A special mention should go out to the title track, with its hilarious sample of a Christian fundamentalist's rant here turned on its head to become a celebration of everything that gathers us all here on this very app. That some music fans in this group can't understand that *Destroy Rock & Roll* is first and foremost an ironic title--or pretend not to understand it--is baffling to me (see some of those 1/5 reviews at the bottom of the page). Some people *do* have a very short attention span, don't they? Well... Listening to one album a day is an arduous process, i'll give them that... :) That being said, that *one* review claiming this music is the sort of of stuff you hear while you're on hold on the phone might *also* have a point, and it made me laugh, I admit it. It's indeed probable that the album's beats and grooves sound a little dated to some ears today. Yet one could argue that there are still enough little touches here and there to make such sound timeless in its own special way (vocal samples, funky basslines, vocoder-tinged vocals, ambient layers, etc.). On a side note, it must also be pointed out that *Destroy Rock & Roll* foretold the mash-up craze of the mid-aughts. I don't know if we can *really* thank Mylo for that (that craze deflated pretty quickly, and this for good reasons), but there's no arguing he was ahead of the curve when he released that first album of his. *Destroy Rock & Roll*, might not be an essential listen for some, but to me it still deserves its four stars, if only for this--not to mention the fact that the record displays richness, inventivity and, most of all, a very solid list of tracks. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 966 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 14 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 (including this one) Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 11 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2

Their work, Lux once said, was “a rallying point for certain kinds of people to come together and for certain kinds of people to stay out.” The Cramps' singer take on what they do is as clear as it can get, and *Songs The Lord Taught Us* probably exemplifies this philosophy the best. With this first LP, they established the 'psychobilly' genre: an outré, deranged take on rockabilly attracting misfits, outcasts and other weirdoes gathering around tales of teenage werewolves, zombies and alien daddies abandoning their traumatized offspring on earth. Punk twisted those old 50s references into a pure carnival. And it's one many rock fans might be inclined to return to for years to come. Musically, you can't expect anything more than barebones touches to honor the lyrical program: Poison Ivy's simple yet evocative guitar lines are earworms ready to suck on your brain like so many extraterrestrial leeches, Lux Interior's demented screeches and howls can have a mesmerizing effect on what's left of it, and the overall sound is just a messy mudpit. Is it *good* or interesting music? Maybe not. But sometimes atmosphere and moods are more important than compositions (and a lot of covers are here anyway, with "Fever" once again attracting most of the spotlight). As for the lyrics, they are outrageously funny. Just imagine that "Zombie Dance" mocking the so-called "normality" of self-righteous people, and you'll get the idea of how Ivy and Interior the rest of society at large. Maybe through their tales of the undead and other monsters, The Cramps just wanted to point out they were more alive than most people in their lives. If that's the case, it's a job well-done. 3 or 3.5 for the music. 5 for the lyrics and the overall artictic intent. Which rounds up to a 4 and an album you must listen to at least once in your life, even if you won't come back to it later one. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 965 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 15 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 (including this one) Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 11 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2

You and me baby Baby me and you. You and me together Nothing is better You and me baby Baby me and you You and me together That was an error Lalalalalala... Admittedly, "Rolling In The Deep", the track opening this record, is an all-time masterpiece. And of course, Adele's got techinical chops when it comes to vocals, plus that warm deep voice. But almost everything that follows that hit single misses the point of what interesting music and lyrics should be about. The music is often made of bland, unimaginative, generic pop ballads that get on you nerves as they follow one another. This album lasts 48 minutes but it feels like an hour and a half. As for the lyrics... well, what more can I say than what I wrote at the start of this review? It's often quite embarrassing, to be honest. I've also read in one review in here that this album is not part of the latest editions of *1001 Albums...*, that it was dropped. If that's the case, it's a damn shame it's still here on *this* list. And not because I don't like it, but because I signed for this thing thinking there would only be the albums from the last edition. (I only have the names of every album *once* part of that list, not the last edition, so I can't check if *21* is there or not myself). Tally: I've temporarily lost count about the number of albums I've listened to up to now, but I've taken notes and it's there somewhere. And of course *21* will NOT make my final list. I mean, seriously, gals and guys... *This* can't be an "essential" listen, right? Baby, me and you, You and me baby La la la la laaaaaaaaaa....

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 963 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 16 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 12 Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2

If this album is on this list, why not include Journey or Europe in it while you're at it? I mean... "Don't Stop Believin'" and "The Final Countdown" are catchier than anything on Boston's first LP, aren't they? Oh, no, cheesy dad rock fans might argue, no, no, noooooooo, Boston wrote and performed better songs. Well, did they? Let's break this mothership down track by track : More Than A Feeling: yep, OK, it's got a nice chorus, cool T-Rex-like handclappings and great guitar parts (rhythm and solo) going for it. I can't help feeling that what's good in the song was already a little dated in 1976, but who cares about that now? A convincing opener overall. 4/5 Peace Of Mind : I like the lyrics on this one, something about a dude stuck in a company on a lowlevel position knowing there's more to life than corporate competition (Tom Scholz worked for Polaroid on such a job before his rock dream came true). Yet harmonically speaking the whole thing's a little bland. Only the end is really worth it, with that guitar riff followed by those fifth (or third?) harmony overdubbed solos. But that moment is way too short. 2.5/5 Foreplay / Long Time : Maybe I was too hard when I gave that Genesis album a 2. That baroque, annoying rococo organ solo on the introduction of this song might have required some technical chops, yet it's still *very* embarrassing to listen to today. Not every prog-rock flourish from the 70s has aged gracefully, and here's a good example. What's also a bit daft is that when the song proper starts, it's a little too pedestrian melody and rhythm-wise to justify such delusions of grandeur before. By this point, the albums starts to feel very performative. "Takin' your time" doesn't mean *we* have to get lulled into sleep. The impressive vocal harmonies keep us awake, fortunately, and so do another instance of those T-Rex-like handclaps. Besides, the guitar solo at the end shreds hard, once again. But apart from that... 2, maybe 2.5/5 Rock and Roll: Excruciatingly boring song. As unoriginal as its title. Well, let me correct that: with a similar topic and title, Led Zeppelin knew how to create a visceral atmosphere, at least. Boston just can't: it's all very performative and there's nothing else to it. Fittingly, lyrics are uninteresting clichés, too. A dud. 0/5 Smokin': copy and paste the text up above and replace "rock'n'roll" with "rhythm'n blues" (quoted in the lyrics). 0/5 Hitch a Ride : Some Kinks-like flavours (circa Village Green Society) at the start of this one had raised my hopes a little... but no, false alarm, the same performative stuff occurs again and again after. And then, it becomes even worse than that! While I found them charming on the first side of this record, the T-Rex-like handclappings are now grating my ears as a cheap trick, I want to smash that organ into a thousand pieces (organ solos should be banned by the Geneva convention as weapons of mass destruction) and even the guitar solos make me want to roll my eyes right to the back of my head now. Jesus, this is SO cheesy!!!! 1/5 Something About You: A *very* "power pop" track. Which would be fine if the chords were just way more original. But maybe I'm too worn out by the barrage of bad taste before to care now... 1/5 Let Me Take You Home Tonight: Eagles territory. *yawn* 1/5 I can hear some folks going at me now: "but... but look at the technical wizardry! Scholz actually recorded most of this stuff in his basement!". Yeah, and? If it's to sound like something that was *not* recorded in a basement, why should I care if it was? "Lo-fi" recordings made decades later proved that they could have a charm on their own, far from any big studios artificial shenanigans. Maybe Scholz just missed the opportunity to be creative and fully ahead of the curve here, as good as he was technically speaking. In the end, imitating a big studio sound from a basement is nothing but this, a technical feat. It's not necessarily an *artistic* one. But look guys, the *real* problem here is not the sound, it's the songs: *all of them* on side 2 are just freaking AWFUL. And you *know it*, for chrissake! Some of those five-stars reviews up there even sneakily admit it. Well, why did you give this album five stars, then??? An album is not an E.P. It's not a single either. And a good one might have weaker spots here and there, yet it still needs to be cohesively good overall. I'm amazed at how many "perfect" reviews this record got on this app. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure the nostalgia factor came into play. Here's the thing, however: sometimes oldies are NOT goldies. So, c'mon, guys, get a grip on yourself. I can understand and even respect 3 or 4-star assessments. But 5 is way too high! Maybe it's time for some dad rock fans to let go of their bad faith. Music is subjective and all, I know that. But it's no reason for some to be in denial. At least to this point. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 962 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 16 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 Albums from the list I will *not* include in mine (as I think many others are more important): 13 (including this one) Albums I might not be able to judge (some might end up on my final list but it's because I recognize how culturally important they are): 2

Four stars An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. "The Modern Lovers" is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in post Velvet-Underground rock, not to mention proto-punk, here recorded more than five years before the word " punk" reached our collective consciousness. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a third so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: another third Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last third Albums I might not be the best person to judge, but that I will probably include in my final list: 2. That, I remember.           

OK, this one is bookended by two nice tracks, "Roundabout", and "Heart Of The Sunrise", which somehow reminded me of The Mars Volta without the hard rock and post-hardcore influence, obviously. But just like with The Mars Volta, the line between genuinely propulsive or epic moments and technical self-indulgence for the sake of it is sometimes very thin. I can go "wow" and "meh" in the space of a few seconds. A very odd experience. Besides, the rest of the album is *very* uneven, even by the usual seventies prog-rock standards naturally allowing a lot of space for digressions. Half of those tracks actually sound like interludes. And even the ones that don't seem to lead nowhere, except for the next track, which in its turn leads nowhere. I was amazed at the lack of *substance* displayed by this record. I've then read the band put it together in a quick way, with some members doing their stuff on the side before patching things together. Which explains a lot of what I'm feeling here. I remember giving Genesis a 2/5 recently. Should I rate this record with the same number, or a 3? 2.5? Beats me. The cut-and-paste approach slightly works better on this one, because some of the jams are really impressive and lively (and the whole thing is not weighed down by the laughable pretentiousness of Peter Gabriel and co.). Yet I can't help feeling Yes is slightly overrated, even today. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  959 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 18 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 13 Albums I might not be the best person to judge, but that I *might* include in my final list: 3 (including this one)    

Four stars An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. Beyond the great songs this record can boast about, what's really interesting is how The Band's second effort also works like a subtle concept album about America's Civil War, here seen from the vantage point of ordinary folks. They should have called it *Across The Great Divide*, after the opener. But then again, The Band were never really good to find names, were they? As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. *The Band* is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in sixties and seventies music. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a third so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: another third Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last third Albums I might not be the best person to judge, but that I will probably include in my final list: 3. That, I remember.           

A little less known today than other pivotal acts from the San Francisco Bay Area (Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead and the likes), Quicksilver Messenger Service sure had an idiosyncratc way of performing the sort of psychedelic folk rock those more famous acts were known for. And nowhere was it more idiosyncratic than on this live album, whose first side is devoted to a long trippy jam based on a Bo Diddley song. Good extended jams are always a question of dynamics and textures, and it is true that, in that area at least, QMS pulls it off quite gracefully. Some very short moments of the "How Do You Love" and "Which Do You Love" sections even inadvertently foretell the great experimentations on rhythm and harmonies that Can would only attempt a few years later from their side of the pond. And some of those great moments can also be found on the second side. See the ending of "Maiden Of The Cancer Moon", or the sepulchral background vocal harmonies lending an unmistakably mystical atmosphere to "Calvary"... Is *this* an essential listen, though? I'm inclined to say it isn't. The problem with extended jams and the album format has always been that one only rarely fits the other--at least in the field of rock'n'roll (jazz is another story, since improvisation is central to its core tenets, contrary to other song-based genres). At best, the album sounds like an interesting archive documenting the progress and skills demonstrated by great musicians at some early points of their careers. But it's nothing more than this, really. "Happy Trails" has no story to tell. It only rarely evokes vivid imagery. Those peaks are there--see my first paragraph--but overall, they are too far and between. And the plains between those peaks are a little too samey, with guitar licks that neither break new grounds nor give some decipherable structure to the whole thing. It's not to say that Quicksilver Messenger Service have exactly been *self-indulgent* when they released this live record (a reproach one can throw at many jam albums). Indeed, there's some form of musical generosity to be found there, and one can sense QMS's gigs have been memorable experiences for their audience at the time--see that part on side one where the audience clap their hands in a way that feels as if they are participating in the performance itself, and not merely enjoying it as outsiders. And yet, today, more than 50 years later, the aesthetics displayed here are just a little too quaint given everything that has since transpired. In other words, the offerings we have here are way too obscure in their true intents to make any sort of sense. Maybe you needed to be there to understand what this thing was all about. Which generally marks the line between "interesting" and "essential". After all, 1969 was a year of many transitions. Prog-rock and krautrock woud soon take free-form experimentation to more promising levels. And decades later, post-rock would show how electric guitars can convey newfound mystical mindsets to its audiences. But you can't blame QSM for trying at least. "Happy Trails" is maybe a lost opportunity in rock history. If more musicians had followed those strange trails winding their way between between early r'n'r and psychedelia, maybe genres in the seventies and beyond would have sounded a little different than they actually did. But no one really ventured there. Those trails are long gone. All that remains now is thickets of wild weeds, dry grass and dust bowls... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 957 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 19 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 14 (including this one) Albums I might not be the best person to judge, but that I *might* include in my final list: 3.

Four stars and half An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own two decades after it was released. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. *Is This It* is just a timeless gem aimed at anyone who's into rock at large. Go and listen to this record a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 956 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 20 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 14 Albums I might not be the best person to judge, but that I *might* include in my final list: 3.

Five stars. An all-time classic, and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. Àgaetis Byrjun is just a timeless gem aimed at anyone who's into Sigur Rós or even post rock at large. Go and listen to this record a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 955 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 21 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 8 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 14 Albums I might not be the best person to judge, but that I *might* include in my final list: 3.

Hey ! I got this CD at home. It's nice somehow, probably one of Aerosmith's best albums. It's got the original version of "Rock This Way" in it. The thing is, should Aerosmith be included in a list of 1001 essential albums to listen to? No. And this here is why I won't say anything further about this record. Please, Dimery and associates, check your priorities a little. You need room for genuinely great or moving or grounsbreaking albums. You can't waste it like this. Number of albums left to review or listen to : more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here. Number of essential listens: more than a third so far. Number of albums I *might* include as essential listens: a quarter so far. Number of albums I *won't* consider as essential listen: more than a third so far (including this one)

Nice. Obviously *Pulp Fiction* has done a great job getting audiences acquainted with the 70s soul gem that gives this album its title. And I can't say the rest of the record was an unpleasant listen (half of those tracks are nicely done, there's no arguing about that). On the other hand, I'm a bit skeptical whether this album as a whole can be classified as an "essential listen", especially compared with masterworks from Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding or Stevie Wonder. Maybe this was a bad day for me to dive into a soul album, but frankly, I'm not sure what separates those tracks from Barry White stuff sometimes (apart from their diametrically opposed voices, that goes without saying). I leave this as a question mark here. Maybe with a little more time on my hands, I'll get more attuned to the subtleties of this album, who knows? Number of essential listens : more than a third so far, I've temporarily lost count here... Albums I *might* include in my final list: a quarter so far (including this one) Albums I certainly won't include in my final list: more than a third so far.

Four stars An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. The only grudge I have against this album is that it's too long compared to other early Wu-Tang solo outputs such as Genius/GZA's *Liquid Swords* or Method Man's *Tical*, which are straight to the point and offer a more rewarding experience on the whole. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. *Only Built For Cuban Linx* is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in rap and hip hop. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 952 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 22 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 12 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 15

FIVE STARS An all-time classic As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 951 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 23 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 12 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 15

Three stars, maybe? Four stars ? A landmark album for many but I'm not sure I'm totally sold on this one. I'm quite a fan of Nick Cave's middle period, and I remember that everyone was struck by this delicate record at the time it came out. But I think Cave has since "refined" his game when it comes to melancholic songs or performances on the piano. For the first, listen to *No More Shall We Part* (a longer and more meandering record, but far more satisfying overall). Or listen to the more recent *Skeleton Trees* and *Ghosteen*. And if you want to enjoy Cave as a piano performer, you can always spin that last solo live album of his. *The Boatman's Call* is still a nice record, though, with some very memorable tracks here and there ("Into My Arms" is a small gem, for instance). And it's well-produced and well-performed, of course. But I can't help feeling that the whole thing is a little too tame and rigid, and that not much is happening in a large chunk of these songs. Maybe this bareness is what draws people to the album (both Cave's admirers and more casual fans). It's just that, in my opinion, Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds are always better when they're using "treatrical" tricks to explore emotional moods. Those moods can be anger, lust, fear or infinite grief, it doesn't matter. What matters is that Cave and his pals have enough space to let their histrionic instincts guide them through such emotions. *The Boatman's Call* doesn't use those theatrical tricks at all, save for a few rare exceptions. It's more like watching Cave working those songs at his desk. A gorgeous desk, with all sorts of nice objects on it. But a desk nonetheless. Albums that will end up on my list of favorites: more than a third so far, I've temporarily lost count here. Album that I *might* include on my list: approximately a quarter (including this one) Album I won't include on my list: less than a quarter so far.

Three stars, maybe? A landmark album for many but I'm not sure I'm sold on this one. It's sure impressive that Todd Rundgren played almost all the instruments on this album. And there are some choice cuts in it, from "I Saw The Light" to "Wolfmann Jack", not to mention the atmospheric waltz "The Night The Carousel Burned Down" or the awfully good power pop hit "Couldn't I Just Tell You"--here foretelling many later great tracks of a genre that was still in its infancy in 1972 (say hi to The Cars, Weezer and The Posies from me, please). The thing is, those cuts are here mixed with many tracks that often border on muzak or elevator music. And when I say "many", I really mean it, since it's a double LP. Of course, I *do* realize that double albums such as these should be unafraid to explore stylistic u-turns and take risks of some kind to justify their sheer length. But can the human mind stand *so many* meandering laneways that rarely have a proper destination point here? And this in *one single take*, to boot. Case in point: "I Went To The Mirror". After a long pointless dirge, the track starts to get interesting with a bluesy Led-Zeppelin-like riff that gets things a little more animated and lively. But almost immediately, the song fades out, just as we were getting to something. This feeling of an unfinished business pertains to many other parts of this double album. And even when things get a little more interesting, like in the track that follows, "Black Maria", one often can't refrain from comparing the proceedings to other staple acts from the sixties and seventies. Yes, Todd Rundgren can remind you of the Beatles, Queen, Led Zeppelin or even the Rolling Stones (see also the nice closer "Slut"). But can he be as memorable, charming and evocative as the Fab Four? Can he be as deliriously histrionic and "over the top" as Queen? Can he rock as hard as Jagger and Richards, or Plant, Page, Bonham and Jones? No, he can't, and this for all the examples we've just quoted. As a result, he's stuck in a sort of limbo: he's an excellent and imaginative musician, but he's not a perfect songwriter or performer (his voice is a bit dull at times). And as such, he's doomed to stand below all those rock legends we've just mentioned. Conversely, he's not leftfield or abrasive enough to offer something that would counter this overall "mixed bag" narrative either. He sure tries to be more daring sonically speaking in later tracks such as "Little Red Lights". But it's too little and too late, especially at this point of the second record... Some fans might argue that the chords change are often off-kilter or unexpected. Maybe, but it's the same question as the one we've asked before, is it not? Are those chord changes leading somewhere? Nope, they definitely aren't. Take "Torch Song", for instance. Sure, it's nice and delicate, and it offers thoughtful instrumentation and arrangements. But basically, it's just another interlude. The emotions it tries to convey at first do not feel earned at the end, if only because the latter comes too soon, once again. To put it in a nutshell, I feel like this is a record where technical prowess doesn't always lead to truly *compelling* songwriting. And just like the flowery wallpaper aesthetics of its cover, most of the sounds and melodies displayed in *Something/Anything* appear slightly quaint today, if not downright cheesy sometimes. So I can understand listening to this album once because of its cultural importance, and overall it's been an interesting listen, if not always a pleasant one. But I'm not sure I ever want to play that album again now that I've listened to it. Life's too short to waste it on stuff that doesn't convey genuine emotions to you. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 949 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 23 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 14 (including this one?) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 15

Of the three albums released by Nick Drake during his all-too-short lifetime, this slightly quaint exercise is the one that probably veers a little too close to a novelty performance. Drake himself pointed this out. But that doesn't mean this record should be ignored, given how many great tracks with luscious arrangements make the bulk of it, from "Northern Sky" to "Hazey Jane II" or "One Of These Things First". Once you're owning *Five Leaves Left* and *Pink Moon*, it's hard to resist *Bryter Layter*, if only from a completist perspective. Nick Drake was gone too soon, everyone who once got interested in him knows that. Even though it was written and played in the early seventies, his music is timeless, and it will be for many other decades to come... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 948 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 24 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 14. Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 15

Here's the thing: during the early naughts, a bunch of British critics on the lookout for the next Mercury Rev gave raving reviews on this album made by an American alt-country/indie-rock act from Nashville, leaving other critics from the other side of the pond a little nonplussed as to what their honorable colleagues from the U.K. really saw in that band. Here's what one of those more skeptical American critics wrote at the time ; "*Nixon* serves as a reminder that expertly executed stylistic hybrids and ironic juxtapositions-- great though they may be-- don't replace memorable songwriting. Sure, it's a novel concept, but while some of us may still be patient enough to "get it" five albums into the band's career, Wagner's talent and unique vision should demand a more challenging album." This somewhat skeptical reception, here taken from a Pitchfork review, perfectly trancribes my own feelings about *Nixon*. In spite of the lush arrangements drawing on Philly soul, nothing much special happens in terms of melody, discernable intensities or sense of dynamics in the course of this long record. When Kurt Wagner goes into that strange falsetto mode, conveniently buried in the mix, it just feels cringeworthy instead of fragile or graceful or charming. The whole thing sounds so... remote, like generic background music droning in some hipsters'café. Even "Up With People", the supposed centerpiece of the album, would actually be a very minor cut in most of the records from the nineties and early naughts that made Dimery's list. If only for this, I'm also deeply confused at what some people really see in *Nixon*, just like most American critics at the time. Maybe it's that incredible artwork setting them into some sort of mood beforehand. Such cover is indeed incredible, and it made me want to love this record so much. Except that I didn't... Should I continue here? Does this foppish thing deserve so many words to describe it ? Some people think it does, apparently. Pitchfork made amends later on for instance, probably still under the lasting influence of those slightly deluded British critics we've mentioned earlier. Just in case that first honest reviewer of theirs might have missed out on something truly earth-shattering, they called a true fan to write a second review about the album's reissue. And here's what this new reviewer wrote in passing: "Even as a fan, I understand the ways in which Lambchop can seem standoffish and cold." It seems that second reviewer was as honest as the first at least. However, the *real* problem with Lambchop might not be about *temperature* or so-called "sophistication". I actually don't feel as if Lambchop are looking down upon us poor mortals. I feel like they're looking at nowhere in particular, that their stare are totally blank. This is not shoegaze here. This is *nothinggaze*. And this empty feeling can even be explained in purely *musical* terms. To this listener, the real problem is indeed that Kurt Wagner never tried hard to write proper hooks, or choruses, or even simple endearing moments, anything substantial that could make you relate to the proceedings. It seems that what *Nixon* is really all about is style. And style is sometimes not conducive to good writing. So, is this an album you must *absolutely* listen to? Not to me. Lambchop are excellent musicians and arrangers, no doubt about that. But the spark is missing here--that sort of spark you can find in acts that are not so far away from the territory supposedly explored here: stuff like Deerhunter, Vic Chesnutt or even Kevin Morby. In all those examples, you can often find two pivotal ingredients that seal the deal for most listeners of likewise genres: memorable melodies and recognizable emotions. And sadly, *Nixon* only very rarely uses those two pivotal ingredients. Of course, in a list a 5001 albums instead of 1001, such album would be noteworthy, if only for its overall stylistic intent (and artwork). But fans got to understand *some* acquired tastes are often harder to acquire than others... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 947 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 24 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 14. Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 16

I spent my last review mentioning Pitchfork, and now here comes their critical darling Solange. Once again, I can't quite picture what the fuss with this laidback modern r'n'b album is all about, at least musically speaking. It's not that the music is bad: some arrangements are subtle and pleasantly intricate. And in a way, I can get *why* the whole aesthetics of this record are quite subdued throughout its course (more on that later). It's just that those aesthetics are a little too unobtrusive for my tastes. *A Seat At The Table* is no trip hop, that's for sure--it's not mesmerizing or repetitive enough. I wonder how it would have sounded if it had included more influences like that... I guess the whole idea behind this album was that the music should fit with the confessional atmosphere of the vocals while also retaining an alurring canvas on which Solange can brush very socially-conscious lyrics. So what we have here is *smooth* protest music, with very idiosyncratic ways to cover the grounds on which African-Americans view where they come from and who they are today. But even if it's *smooth*, it's protest music nonetheless. Which means that the lyrics are worth it, no doubt about that. And so is Solange's mellifluous performance, of course (I'm less convinced by the guest vocals, but they're a minor presence anyway). Some very clear emotions seep through such a performance, Solange perfectly understanding how to convey her views in a manner that's quite diginified and graceful. As Old Bob said, the times, they are-a changing, they did change in the past, and they are changing now. Such bridges between past and present are the ones Solange wants to build here. So, yes, *A Seat At The Table* is a record with that sort of ambition, and it should be commended as such. But to return to the music, I'd be lying if I said nothing rubs me the wrong way in it. On the paper, I still think the intent is marvellous. But I'm not so sure about the execution, though. Oddly enough, I wish Solange had taken a page from her elder (and more famous) sister's book when it comes to hooks and choruses. I don't mean she should necessarily have gone to the sort of pop extremes Beyonce Knowles is known for. Yet I feel like some middle ground would have made a stronger impression on me, and probably on many other listeners too, beyond music critic circles. In the meantime, I will leave this album the benefit of the doubt with a three-star grading, just because the lyrical contents are really personal AND interesting AND relevant when it comes to current topics. Maybe I just need more time to understand its music. This situation reminds me of Beyonce's *Lemonade*, actually, another critics' choice that left me a little nonplussed during the last decade... Yet even if I'm nonplussed, I get the picture somehow. After its heyday in the nineties and the naughts, "modern" r'n'b seems to go through an existential crisis of some kind, and as a result, It would be tempting to apply the prefix "post-" to it while listening to *Lemonade*, *A Seat At The Table*, or records such as Frank Ocean's *Blonde*, for instance. The only problem for me here is that such prefix wouldn't fully explain why artists and producers of such ilk are *also* having quite a hard time penning a melody that's memorable. Concept isn't everything in music. If it was, records would be... books. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 946 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 24 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 15 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 16

FIVE STARS An all-time classic. This record encapsulates a moment that's just simply magical. Among other things, Keith Jarrett is known for his piano improvisations drifting between jazz and classical, and this one here is a keeper that will entrance you with its melodies and intense ostinatos. Some experts will probably tell you this is *not* Jarrett's best live album, yet maybe it's just snobbery on their part. This thing here is definitely one of the best entry points into his universe (one I wish I had taken the time to know a little better--maybe in the years to come, who knows?). As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 945 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 25 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 15 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me):

Four stars and a half An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own years after it was released. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. Halcyon Digest is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in indie-rock. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 944 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 26 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 15 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 16

Three and a half stars. I've checked out Dimery's list. *Catch A Fire* and *Exodus* are on it. But not *Burnin'*. How can *Burnin'* NOT be on that list??? Obviously, *Natty Dread* is a likely contender for the fourth slot in the list of the best Bob Marley albums ever. But does that make it an *essential* listen for general audiences who would want to know more about Bob and his Wailers? I'm not so sure. Everybody obviously mentions that original version of *No Woman, No Cry*, and how clunky it sounds compared to that legendary live rendition. That being said, opener "Lively Up Yourself", along with "Them Belly Full", "Rebel Music" and "Natty Dread" are choice cuts. The late entrance of the horns section in the first of these tracks is incredibly effective, transcending the whole piece into another level, one that somehow foretells the epic mysticism of *Exodus*. "Them Belly Full" is a hymn as topical (tropical?) as it is enticing to the ear. And the instrumentation on "Rebel Music" is smart and intricate, guitar licks, harmonica and organ adding layers to a six-minute lush experience that seem to last half as much. The end of the record is notoriously weaker, though, except "Revolution", maybe--nice high-pitched vocals from Marley at the very end, quite uncharacteristic from him. But apart from those sorts of moments, I'm still of two minds about the whole thing. Maybe Jah should teach me to let it go on that listing thing, about what's supposedly essential or not. Mystical music doesn't work like that, does it? So, I'm gonna light up a spliff, probably add this record to my small personal reggae collection, and say that in the end, *everything's gonna be alright*... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 943 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 26 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 16 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 16

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 942 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 27 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 16 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 16

I have nothing against this particular David Holmes album. It's decent big beat / electronica overall. But as I've already said elsewhere, I have Dimery's full list, and I'm quite infuriated by his (and his contributors') shorsightedness when it comes to many other important genres, with glaring ommissions in them. Just look at jazz, for instance. No "Mingus, Ah, Um", no "Blue Train" or "Giant Steps" for Coltrane, no Shabaka Hutchings album from one of his many projects, not to mention some very important Miles Davis records missing here and there. And I'm mostly talking about legendary names here, not even *true* obscure stuff. So a decent but minor big beat album compared to those absent records doesn't weigh much in terms of cultural importance. Which is *why* I can't include it on my own list. Sometimes it's whole genres that are criminally overlooked. Apart from two releases by Slint and Sigur Rós, "post-rock" albums are nowhere to be seen. Where are those all-time masterpieces by Mogwai, Tortoise, Godspeed You! Black Emperor or A Silver Mount Zion? Seriously, guys, "trippy" music didn't stop with the sixties or the seventies. Those later masterpieces should be part of the so-called "canon", more than stuff by Quicksilver Messenger Service, for example. Such post-rock records have been here for a long time now, even for a few decades for some of them, and new generations are going back to those records as we speak. Who's rediscovering "Happy Trails" today, apart us music nerds through this app? Nobody. Likewise, post-hardcore, and emo are probably niche genres, but they should have some decent representatives in the list. And the same goes with the admittedly quite recent post-punk revival in the UK. "Hookworms" is only a very minor example of that recent revival selected by Dimery and co, and the problem is that it won't be remembered the way Idles, Fontaines D.C., Shame, Squid, Yard Act, black midi or Black Country New Road are going to be for sure. And we should also cross the pond and mention the outrageous absence of many current key American artists of all stripes and styles, from Billie Eilish to Big Thief, from Low to Weyes Blood, from Sharon Van Etten to Parquet Courts, or from Turnstile to Women / Vietcong / Preoccupations. Dimery and friends are sure ticking a few important boxes culturally speaking with records by Kanye West, Kendrick Lamar, Lana Del Rey and Fiona Apple. But it's not nearly enough. And it's still very "mainstream". Make room for more important stuff now. Please... Album left to review of just listen to: more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here. Essential listens I'll keep on my list: Half so far. Albums I *might* include: a quarter. Albums I consider not essential at all: a quarter, including this one.

Four stars An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. Nebraska is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in Bruce Springsteen before he blew everything with that awful, generally cheesy-sounding *Born In The USA* album. Number of records left to review or just listen to: 939 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 28 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 17 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 17

Four stars An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. *Tidal* is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in Fiona Apple. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a third so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

FIVE STARS This is exactly the sort of stuff I signed for. Discovering great stuff I had never hear or even heard of before. Because even if you haven't heard anything about John Grant before, chances are that his first solo album is that type of record that is bound to stay with you when you've finished listening to it--granted that the artist ticks all those proverbial idiosyncratic boxes of yours. And John Grant does for this writer here. Already a great piano player blessed with a tenor voice that does wonders throughout this first album, Grant is also an arresting songwriter who has quite a precise story to tell here, transcending his assets as a musician and delivering a gem that didn't receive enough praise at the time of its release. The former leader of the Czars (who took a four-year break from music after the demise of his band) is indeed *not* your usual seventies-type folk-rock balladeer, even though he mostly draws on this codified tradition. And this very creative paradox is only one among many. A gay man raised in a conservative home in Michigan and Colorado, Grant had certainly gone through hard times when *Queen Of Demmark* was released in 2010: alcoholism, childhood trauma, troubles to deal with his sexual orientation, and most of all, a difficult separation with an anonymous lover. So the bulk of *Queen Of Denmark* is a break-up album, sure, but one that comes with *huge* twists when compared with other examples in this genre. And the biggest twist is that the self-deprecating Grant often comes off as a very personal lyricist here, either penning hilarious one-liners or dropping mordant observations about himself or his characters. Rarely have break-up albums been this lively. Part-Stephen Merritt, part-Gene Clark, part-Elton John, part-Nick Cave and part-Nick Drake, John's vocabulary can only be his nonetheless, rendering those tentative comparisons moot once you delve further into his art. On the lighter side of things, this knack for off-kilter, yet *killer* words allowed him to record instant hits such as the novelty parody "On A Silver Platter" or "Sigourney Weaver"--a track fooling around with the song narrator's identification to female Hollywood figures such as Weaver's Ellen Ripley or Winona Ryder, helping him deal with his feelings of being an outcast for eternity. Grant's talent is even more impressive on devastating tracks such as "JC Hates Faggots", where a gay man roasts his father's toxic and traumatic influence on him. And the harshness of the title-track, concluding this record, is just plain unforgettable. Grant sure passes off as a piece of work on this one. But those flaws are also what allow him to write great songs. And they absolve him of unfair accusations of cynicism (some reviewers at the time certainly *didn't* get the themes of the album at all). This particular talent as a lyricist wouldn't be as effective as it is if Grant had not also taken painstaking care in creating a musical canvas that is equally luminous and heartbreaking thoughout the record. The piano riff and chorus of "Marz", as deceptively simple as they sound, are instantly catchy. Grant often modulates harmonies from minor to major modes and back, weaving heratwrenching, bittersweet atmospheres. Apart from piano and guitars, some weird yet often very melodic synth lines and arrangements also bring a color at key moments of many songs, bringing a welcome respite from the overall intensity displayed in some of those tracks. Kudos for the Midlake band for serving as a backing band for Grant and helping him shape those awesome songs--legend has it that without Midlake, Grant wouldn't have returned to music, and we can all be thankful to them for being so supportive. After John Grant released *The Queen Of Denmark*, the artist moved back to Europe (where he had lived before), was diagnosed HIV-positive, ended up in Iceland, settled with a new guy there, and, more importantly for us as listeners, dabbled into some even *weirdest* music languages, some sort of synth pop with a bend for high concepts and elaborate layerings (some enlightening, others a little too obscure for this writer maybe--interestingly, this subsequent high-brow-yet-campy direction is foretold in the bonus tracks in some editions of *The Queen of Denmark*, less remarkable, but still a good fun). It seems that as bizarre and eccentric those albums are, John looks like a happy middle-aged man now. We can all be happy for him. And no matter what happens now or next, he's still left us an incredible first album. This album stemmed from clear pain, no doubt about that. But the pleasure it can still give you today makes such pain 100% worthwhile now.  Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

FIVE STARS One of the coolest albums ever made in the long history of rock. Revisiting it today was a pleasure I didn't *fully* expect, since I've probably listened to it a thousand times already. But it's still working, after all these years. At first, the thin lo-fi sound caught me off-guard, after so many glossy, so called "well-produced" records on the list. But quickly, I remembered why I love this record (and this band) so much. It's smart, melodic, rough, lively, cute, wry, funny, sad, bittersweet, nonsensical, dumb and bright all at the same time. "Summer Babe", " In The Mouth A Desert", "Loretta's Scars", and "Here" are instant indie classic. Funny how, now that I know music history a little better, I can spot a few winks towards other legendary rock bands from the past. "Conduit For Sale!" draws on the Velvet's "The Murder Mystery" for instance, as someone rightly stated here in this group. But those influences don't take away Pavement's own very specific talent. Slacker genius at its best here. Harder to pull off than most people think... Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter But who caaaaaaares... even those rejects are somehow redeemed by Pavement's take on "success". In the end, what we all are is being like lame stand-up comedians on the stage of life, both grotesque and sublime. See the legendary opening lines of "here": "I was dressed for success / but success it never comes / And I'm the only one who laughs / at your jokes when they are so bad / And the jokes are always bad / But they're not as bad as this / Come join me in the sun..." and so on... Behind that thin layer of cynicism and the absurd, Pavement are most of all romantics, in the tradition of the Kinks and, once again, The Velvet Underground. So they deserve to be "here" with them.

I can't say that I was familiar with Miriam Makeba before I used this app. I might grumble about Dimery and co.'s choices sometimes, but we can still be grateful for most of them, especially when they allow you to discover great or important arists, as Makeba surely is. This album should probably be counted as an essential listen if only for two tracks-"The Click Song" and "Mbube", sort of a preliminary sketch of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight", here in one of its best versions. That being said, now that I've browsed though Makeba's impressive list of releases (and it will take some time for me to find my way around it), it also seems that this first international solo release by the South-African singer might not be the best entry point into that sweeping discography of hers. Sure, *Miriam Makeba* probably sounds more "authentic" than some of "Mama Africa"'s subsequent albums recorded and produced in the US... But once you've listened to *Pata Pata*, for instance, it's hard to dismiss that later (and admittedly more famous) record. And not only because of its killer title, one that I *did* know before, actually--who can forget that sweet and oh-so-catchy melody?--indeed, "Ring Bell, Ring Bell" and "West Wind" are absolute gems too, and the rest is great, making *Pata Pata* another essential purchase. Makeba's performance on "West Wind" is even reaching levels of emotion that are worthy of Nina Simone herself. And don't get me started on that incredible string arrangement in the background... So if *Miriam Makeba* is an essential listen, you might also need to add *Pata Pata* to the list. That other album even has a new version of "The Click Song" (even though that new version is not nearly as good as the original here). And then, how many other great tracks has Makeba recorded during her long career? Wish I could listen to everything in a split-second. Music *is* a rabbit hole, is it not? Number of records left to review or just listen to: 935 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 31 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 18 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 17

Well, sometimes you need to give in. Most chord successions are lame and hackneyed, so are those 5th harmony guitar solos, and the aggressive factor have since been neutered by tons of better metal or hardcore metal releases since the early eighties. But I guess that, well, this album needs to be included in a list of 1001 essential albums to listen to, even once in your life, if only for its "cultural" importance. Legions of metalheads have banged their skulls to this. "Run To The Hill" is an instant hit, so is the title track, "Children Of The Damned" is not so bad, and "Hallowed Be Thy Name" is an epic closer. Sure, the whole thing sounds quite ridiculous. But sometimes, life is. You can't blame Iron Maiden fans for this. This album certainly had something idiosyncratic and new to deliver to that audience at the time. Guess that, for once, you gotta respect that sort of off-kilter commercial success. I've read here that there's another Iron Maiden album on the list. I'll listen to it too when the time comes. But unless it's *way* different (and I already know it won't be, given who we're talking about here), I probably won't add it to my list. Overlong jokes are rarely good, right? You won't find me including more albums Number of records left to review or just listen to: 934 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 32 (including this one, begrudgingly, I guess) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 18 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 17

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of records left to review or just listen to: 933 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 33 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 18 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 17

Sorry, I tried. I really, really tried. But Bad Company does nothing for me, and this album as a whole did not even interest me enough to make me want to write a full-blown review. It's not even that it's bad (sometimes it's interesting to explain *why* you think a record is not for you). It's just that, apart from very, very rare highlights here and there, the music on "Bad Company" is neither groundbreaking nor particularly well written. Lyrics are fine, with some striking one-liners here and there. Yet most of the compositions are just too linear and predictable to seal the deal for me. They simply don't make me feel anything. I always try to keep an open mind, but clearly, I don't see what the fuss is all about here. What we have is more than competent musicianship, of course, even talent. But if you want to select a list of 1001 albums you should absolutely listen to, there are probably twice as many albums worthier of your time out there. Life's too short to waste it on stuff you consider bland. My loss, maybe. But that's the way it is for me. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far  Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter (including this one)

FIVE (black) STARS An all-time classic, given *who* it was from, *when* it was given to us, and *how* Bowie managed to here create a last album with very topical, "à propos" lines, incredibly dark and intricate jazzy or experimental arrangements serving a deeply mysterious yet also quite emotional songwriting overall. A treat from start to finish. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Wow. How. Interesting. 80s synth pop with very weird yet deeply topical lyrics. And some deftly executed experimental moments that make this record worthwhile musicaly speaking, too. Someone in this group pointed out with a snarl how the first track could have been used for Trump's campaign (I had not realized this song was the one covered by LCD Soundsystem, too). What more can i say? And what a great, sardonic artwork, to boot. I thought only Devo could pull off weird stuff like this. I was wrong. Thanks Dimery and co. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Three stars and a half An all-time classic for many A landmark album for many but I'm not sure I'm totally sold on this one. We can all be grateful that Carole King, a prolific writer for other artists before *Tapestry* came out, took this opportunity to write this album for herself. But would this record have been so praised or heavily promoted at the time if someone else, unknown to the "business", had released it instead ? Some sneaking suspicion in me says no. It's not that this album is lacking in terms of highlights, tough. "It's Too Late" (and its groovy guitar riff), "You've Got A Friend", "Beautiful" and the title track are killer songs, craftily arranged and recorded. The stereo effects on this album are well tought-out, for instance, like that glockenspiel chiming on the chorus of "It's Too Late", probably one of the first use of the instrument in the rock and pop idiom. And it's also quite moving to hear King performing in a far more subdued manner that old hit she once gave to Aretha Franklin, "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman". But truth be told, most of the other songs feel just a little too generic 50 years later, with very predictable parts involving linear pop progression that could even border on muzak for today's ears. Admittedly, the line is very thin, and historical contextualization might help you hear those songs with more forgiving ears. Not every listener in 2022 is able to get the "feel" of those sorts of dated canvases. Carole King is an admirable weaver, no doubt about that. It's just that those old works of hers might just look a little quaint overall today. Even if the charm is still there if you pay attention to the details. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

I'm not a *huge* fan of this band, but *Let It Be* is the perfect midway point in their story, between their early hardcore punk shenanigans and their more pop-sounding rockers (without too much cheese here). And like someone else pointed out in the group, a song like Androgynous has lyrics that are still on point decades later (not to mention its atmosphere). A great example of what sorts of wonders adolescent angst can do in music. I would also add the punk band... Adolescents to that category, with their eponymous album. That one is *criminally* overlooked in this list (and many other ones like that !)... Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Four stars An all-time classic, and an album which still holds its own many years after it was released. As is usually the case with those classic albums, I won't write a full-blown review here given that others have already written wonderful stuff about them and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. Mr. Tambourine Man is just a timeless gem for anyone who has even a remote interest in The Byrds. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

FIVE STARS An all-time classic and a personal favorite of mine. This is the seminal album of the "Jimmy Page of the sampler". Put your earbuds on and play this wonder as you're walking or driving through a big city at night. Urban heaven. Sublime and enticing. A feeling of eternity. It's *this* good. As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

I'm not inclined to say a band or an artist is "overrated", music obviously being an objective thing, but oh boy am I tempted to say that Primal Scream fits into such a category. I could personally tolerate the inclusion of *Screamadelica* in a list of so-called "mandatory listens, mostly because this particular album has something to say about the time and place it was realeased, with those UK club breakbeats and whatnot. But c'mon, let's be serious here for one second, fellas: even for that "historical" album, the writing is subpar at best, not to say totally lazy. Worse; some "songs' are just glorified instrumentals with a few vocal snippets here and there--and you'd have to take a shitload of MDMA to hear something substantial or even just fun in those tracks, something that's won't be there at all when you use more sober ears. What about this particular album then? Well, just like many other Primal Scream albums it just drones on in the background, a mixed bag with a few hooks here and there, but without any cohesion at all, and with moments of intensity that are too far and between. As usual, the main influence when it comes to the melodic lines come from the Rolling Stones, at least if you pay some attention. But it's a somewhat sanitized version of the Stones, mixed with the current trends of that year. Which amounts to say that in the end, there's not much to be found there in term of substance. At least Jagger, Richards and their pals knew a thing or two about how they could make a song feel "dirty"--in all senses of the word. Whereras in here, it's just a pale imitation, barely veiled by the supposed "high value" of its production shenanigans. The result is just boring to these particular set of ears here. And reading a lot of the other reviews in here, to many other ones as well... Number of records left to review or just listen to: 921 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 42 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 19 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 19 (including this one)

Three stars and a half ? Four stars ? The Auteurs is a band I've only been vaguely aware of before, and this app gave me the opportunity to delve further into that first record of theirs, *New Wave*. I'm not sure I'm totally sold about it being an *essential* listen, but it's been a pleasant ride nonetheless. Like many other reviewers in here, I think it has a strong start ("Show Girls", that instantly catchy "Bailed Out", and "American Guitars") and a nice end line, between "Early Years" and "Home Again" (which sounds a little like Elvis Costello's "Complicated Shadows", oddly enough). Maybe the middle of the album is too much of a notch under those particular songs, generally speaking. Well, except for that cello-enhanced "How Could I Be Wrong" (in comparison, a track such as "Don't Trust the Stars" is a little too linear and *middle-of-the-road* rock/britpop, for instance). But I'm all too aware those sorts of songs often grow on you as you keep on listening to them, so I'll give those somewhat less striking cuts the benefit of the doubt. I could actually see myself returning to this album, depending on my mood. I also feel like the lyrics make it worth it too--I spotted some very interesting and/or funny lines about quite picturesque scenes, but I have to admit I didn't pay a lot of attention to them this time. Speaking of other people's comments, I was quite intrigued by the fact that a few reviewers heard a little bit of Arctic Monkeys in The Auteurs' sound. I would have never thought of that by myself. But I have to admit that for certain subtle moments, the comparison made more than a little sense... Luke Haines seems to have a knack for snarls delivered in a laidback fashion. He might not exactly be a Alex Turner, but this particular arrow is maybe not so far off the mark, come to think of it... As a consequence, this may have a bearing on my own geeky list of 1001 albums. When the time comes for this app to suggest a minor Arctic Monkey album, as it will probably do, (say "Humbug" or "Suck It And See"), I might be inclined to just replace it with this "New Wave" here (and so have a broader scope on British pop/rock--and more importantly, leave some room for other sorts of records). That list won't be infinite. You can't have them all, can you? Number of records left to review or just listen to: 920 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 42 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 20 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 19

Three stars, maybe? The swan song of Big Band Jazz and an all-time classic for many (plus, what an album cover!). Obviously, this is a landmark record for many but I'm not sure I'm sold on this one. Besides, there are so many *huge* gaps when it comes to jazz in Dimery's list that I think you'd first need to fill those gaps with all the wonderful albums in the genre that are still missing in the list, and then see if there's room left for "The Atomic Mr Basie". And I don't even think I'm an expert in jazz (it's just that all the important masterpieces from the post-bop period of the sixties *need* to be included, period). So, to put it in a nutshell, I can understand listening to *The Atomic Mr. Basie* once because of its cultural importance, and overall it's been an interesting or fun listen, if not a pleasant one. But I'm not sure I ever want to play that album again now I've listened to it once. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Three stars ? Three stars and a half maybe ? As someone wrote elsewhere in this group, the whole project seems *a little* too calculated by sound masterminds trying to profit from the nineties' indie explosion to be considered as a *spontaneously* relevant masterpiece. Producer and band member Butch Vig, of *Nevermind* fame, certainly knew the state of the music business at that particular moment of history. Listening to the album, you can even hear the grind of the charts and graphs in his mind as he and his colleagues try to please very different sections of the audience all at the same time (from trip hop enthusiasts to "alt-rock" explorers, from (n)eurodance and/or UK clubs night owls to dad-rock interlopers--and so on, just take your pick...). Truth be told, if a "corporate grunge" band ever existed, Garbage is probably the one. Too bad their "something for everyone" selling points did not always exactly reach their intended goals, some of them even landing quite flat on the ear today (see "As Heaven Is Wide" or "Not My Idea"). That being said, *other* parts of this first album are still holding out quite well 25+ years later, as dated as the production shenanigans are on the more minor cuts. Yes, sure, even back then you could sense that not everything in this catalogue of angst-ridden-yet-glossy rockers would age gracefully, but in spite of those shortcomings, the songwriting behind a lot of those tracks still redeems a large chunk of the record's flaws when it comes to its sound and overall direction. Many melodies are catchy, evocative and/or instantly memorable, often in a good way. Take "Vow" 's layers of guitar riffs, for example (some of them seemingly recorded backwards): not only are they terrifically efficient earworms, both intense and expansive, but they also prove that Garbage's studio wizardry could lead to truly compelling moments when channelled properly. Likewise, it's not difficult to gather why dancefloor-friendly tracks such as "Queer", "Only Happy When It Rains" or "Stupid Girl" had become such huge hits in the months that followed the release of this record. As calculated as those moves are, there's still an urgency in those songs that make them a worthwhile listen. And it's not as if this record didn't have its lot of darker or less obvious corners to explore, though. Trip hop arrangements, for instance, are conveying a welcome dark atmosphere to the proceedings from time to time ("A Stroke Of Luck", "Milk" ), one that's still working in 2022. As for Shirley Manson, she often has a commanding presence, from "Supervixen"'s stop-and-go dynamics to a "Fix Me Now" that's aiming for the skies and beyond, at least vocally speaking. In the forefront of those Alternative / Industrial Pop landscapes, she brings a goth-yet-melodic spark that fuels the necessary fire to make the whole thing satisfying, at least on an emotional level. Think Siouxsie with a lower voice and a knack for seductive or dangerously sensual choruses. I guess "alternative rock" fans can still thank Vig and his weathered American pals for putting their younger Scottish protégée into the spotlight here. Without this album (and band), chances are that Manson would never have reached this type of instant fame--and frankly, it would have been a shame *not* to get acquainted with her talent as a singer... On a sidenote: check out the bonus tracks recorded during that early stage of the band's career. Some of them are even better than certain songs on the album--replace the three or four clunkers from the original record with cuts like "Subhuman", "Sleep" and "#1 Crush" and maybe you would have had a 4 or 4.5-star album instead. Never got why those great tracks had been discarded in favor of less compelling ones. But maybe this poor choice has something to do with all those charts and graphs in Butch Vig's mind. Whenever you're in doubt about who's reponsible for partially bad results, always blame the board first. Number of records left to review or just listen to: 918 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 42 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 22 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important to me): 19

Four stars and a half An all-time classic of krautrock / komische As is usually the case with those five-stars albums, I won't write a full-blown review about this particular record, because others have already written wonderful stuff about it and there's not much I can add that I feel could be relevant and interesting. It's just a gem. Go and listen to it a.s.a.p. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 917 (including this one) Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 43 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 22 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 19

On the paper, I can get that many people find this Stereolab album charming. On the paper, that is. Because as adventurous as this record can be in its best moments, I however can't help feeling that the overall listening experience it has to offer is just a little too disjointed and pointless to this particular set of ears. Bleeps and bloops are always fun. But you need more than those sorts of playful sonic asides to build an album that goes beyond the usual "exercice de style". "Metronomic Underground" is a nice opener, for instance. But essentially, it is only Can's "You Doo Right" with scratches and a few tweaks here and there, instead of a true build-up to ecstasy. When does a piece of music end up being a smart hommage to the past and when does it start becoming a quite stale reproduction of it instead? It's a tricky question. Besides, many tracks in this collection seem a little too *nice* and innocuous to me anyway. I sometimes wonder if being French plays a part in this partial reluctance of mine here. It's not that Laetitia Sadier's lyrics in that language are bad (they're at least not worse than the ones in English). But it's as if understanding those words right away somehow kills a bit of the mystery some non-native French speakers see in them. Or at least that's the way I'm trying to explain the rave reviews for *Emperor Ketchup Tomato* in the English press at the time. Make no mistake, the subtly grinding motorik rythms of "Les Yper Sound" are somehow addictive, the lush layers of "OLV 26" are weaving a quite evocative soundscape, and the way "Tomorrow Is Already Here"'s guitars are bouncing and complementing each other from one headphone to the next is just fascinating and hypnotic (not to mention those marimbas !). Same with the voices in "Cybele's Reverie". Or the mesmerizing (and darker) qualities of closer "Anonymous Collective" (ending all too soon, unfortunately). But as successful as those oneiric forays are, other cuts clearly overstay their initial welcome, like the *Time Out* 5-beats trope--overplayed to death--in "Percolator". Or the mock-garage-indie-whateverness of "The Noise Of Carpet". Or the endless circles of the electro loops in the title track, leading to nowhere in particular. Not to mention quite a few others here and there... The thing is, when it comes to tongue-in-cheek pop experimentation fronted by a female yéyé mock-ingénue singing over a soundtrack filled with retro-future winks to the sixties, I think I'll always have a soft spot for Broadcast instead of Stereolab. Maybe in comparison the latter are just missing out on the necessary tension and/or melancholy to make the whole thing emotionally rewarding. But maybe that's just me and how I like my ketchup: with more acidic pickles, bittersweet ginger, and a far more *obvious* and substantial slice of spleen, right in the middle of my dish. Sugar ain't enough sometimes, even when sprinkled over a big juicy sonic tomato. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 917 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 43 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 23 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 19

Four stars. The one with "Paper Planes", M.I.A.'s signature song famously sampling The Clash's " Straight To Hell". *insert gunshots sounds followed by a cash register tinkle* But is the rest worth a detour, especially so many years later? I think it is. True, it's a bit silly at times, both musically and lyrically. And yet, rarely has the clash between so-called "third world" and western countries has been so nicely exemplified by an album. That clash is sometimes violent (with those sarcastic call to arms mostly mocking flawed western perceptions of immigrants), other times it's just a tongue-in-cheek party, but the whole thing is never heavy on the ear, and always serving a general genuinely uplifting mood. Percussions and vocal touches are often hectic or enticing, and most tracks are both swampy and bouncing from start to finish, as if Tricky had taken amphetamine instead of smoking crack. Special mention should be made of Timbaland-produced closer "Come Around" and its Bollywood-inspired vocal hooks, the mock-disco of "Jimmy" with its cliched-yet-exhilarating strings, or "Mango Pickle Down River"'s use of The Wilacannia Boys, that weird band of cute aboriginal kids from Australia, here celebrating nature and the "didge" (didgeridoo). Some songs are even conceptually ambitious in *Kala*. Take the grinding-yet-expansive "20 Dollars" and its vocoder-enhanced backdrop. Interestingly, that latter track has first been noticed because it used a vocal interpolation of Pixies' "Where Is My Mind" (M.I.A is a true indie fan, she quotes Pixies and other similar bands elsewhere on the record). But the real, unsaid influence on the song's mesmerizing bassline is actually none but New Order's "Blue Monday" here. Maya Arulpragasam and her producer Swith are cunning thieves, hiding one theft with another, therefore blurring their own tracks through a subtle multi-layering of references and pastiche. All they wanna do is "take your money", maybe. But sometimes, crime can also be interesting or relevant art, as in here. Just like immigrants, what they supposedly "take" or "steal" from other artists ultimately gives back a potential wealth of riches to music. *insert cash register sound* Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 917 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 43 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 23 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 19

It's still incredible to think this album was recorded in the middle of the sixties. I've read unconvinced reviewers in this group saying you don't necessarily need to go back to the hidden origins of a genre, but I strongly disagree here. The genre at stake is punk, here, of course--or should I say, rockabilly played in such a intense fashion that it barely sounds like it. And this thing is *wild*, even 57 years later. To me, it seems that Washington State, with its lumberjacks and geographically remote location on the US map, knows a thing or two about authenticity and intensity. It took almost 30 years to make it a landmark place for that sort of music, with Nirvana and the other great bands of that area. But things did start then. And it's just a riot being able to listen to it. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 918 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 44 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 23 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 19

There's "Lust For Life" and "The Passenger", those two tracks only making it worthwhile to buy your ticket for this ride. But there's also lewd "Sixteen", loud "Some Weird Sin" or lanky "Neighborhood Threat" (what a great 'proto-post punk' guitar arpeggio, slithering in the background from start to end...). There's "Success" and "Tonight". There's David Bowie and Ricky Gardiner in top form behind the scenes. And of course, there's Iggy, his voice, his presence. Still wild, roaring and intense a few years after the Stooges' demise. He snarls, he hoots, he hollers. If he's the "modern man", as he says he is in "Lust For Life", I'm all up for giving up drugs too, getting my shit together, and join him in Berlin to celebrate the ironies of consumer society. Danny Boyle had one of the greatest ideas of his life to use this track for Trainspotting (or was it the book's author, Irvine Welsh?). But the album is worth it, too, folks. So dive in. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

This record by fuzz-propelled garage grunge anti-stars from the Washington State area doesn't have the all-time hits the band are still known for today (such as "Touch Me, I'm Sick" or "Suck You Dry"). But overall, it's the most cohesive and convincing entry from their early output. Buy either this or a compilation from them (or better, buy both--there's only *one* compilation out there anyway). Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far  Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Can't really judge blues, whether from the Chicago school or any other school. I understand that the way those sorts of songs are performed is pivotal for someone to dig them, but those nuances are simply not graspable to me. So I yes, I can't really judge, at least subjectively. One of the only blues records I have in my collection is the Complete Recordings of Robert Johnson. I guess that doesn't really make me an expert. But in this live album, Muddy Waters still sounds like the real thing to my admittedly ignorant ears. So I'm gonna trust the real experts when they're saying this particular record just changed the lives of thousands and thousands of youths at the time (including The Stones, Clapton, Hendrix, Led Zeppelin and countless others), first in the States and then in the UK. This record was released in 1960, and it's one of the very first blues live album ever recorded. I've also noticed lots of Willie Dixon-penned tracks in there too, so I imagine he's worth checking out as well. And of course, I imagine you'd need to add "Mannish Boy" to all this (or Bo Diddley's "I'm A Man", which is basically the same song), to get a broader picture of the powers of that Chicago School. You gotta start somewhere, right? I can also understand the mystique around this album, given the circumstances in which it was recorded, i.e. during a festival that got almost cancelled because of the rioting that had occured there. There are lots of interesting anecdotes about all that online, but I won't delve into them right now, just do the research yourself if you're interested. The bottom line is that this gig (and recording) could have never existed, and popular music during the sixties and beyond would have been slightly different than what it turned out to be. So the words "culturally relevant" don't even do justice to how important this record is (and for once, this clearly goes beyond personal tastes). Those sorts of stakes are best exemplified through the last despondent track, "Goodbye Newport Blues", written right before the gig, with lyrics by none other than poet Langston Hughes--here sung by pianist Otis Spann (given that Muddy was too exhausted from his overall performance before, a performance which included classics such as "Hoochie Coochie Man", "I Got My Brand On You", "Tiger In Your Tank" and two hectic renditions of "I've Got My Mojo Workin'"). Probably referring to the climate of violence around the festival (partly sparked by the police repression), pianist Spann mourns about what a "gloomy day" it is as he sings goodbye to Newport. And yet, as sad as it sounds, something poignant and truly magical is happening here, as magical as the sudden whisps of wind that can be heard in many parts of this quite "barebones" recording (The show occured in the open, by the way, hence those sounds of wind. This can be seen in the photograph for the cover, for example, even though Waters used a different guitar for the gig than the one he's holding for that picture--and there's even an interesting tidbit to learn about that semi-acoustic guitar on the cover, but that's for you to find out as well...). So, why am I focusing on this tiny moment of the recording? Why is it *magical*? The reason is this: during "Goodbye Newport Blues", Spann indeed laments: "What's gonna happen to my music? What's gonna happen to this song?". What's truly magical here is that the answer to that desperate query came in the many waves of great US and UK acts who would feel inspired by this record (and other ones like that) in the years that followed 1960. Those inspired youths all heard Spann's call, as if carried away by that wind which breezes through the speakers as you're spinning this very record. And they answered it, through the great divides of race, class and even an ocean sometimes. "What's gonna happen to my music? What's gonna happen to this song?" Well, what happened is that it changed the world. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

It starts with the "diabolus in musica" tritone. It's the first heavy metal album. It's a sweeping roller coaster mixing blues-inspired evil riffs and haunted vocals. Toni Iommi makes the best of his guitar playing abilities, favoring evocative suspensions and sudden maniacal bursts. Ozzy Osbourne howls (unintentionally) funny lyrics once in a while, but most of the times what he howls about is on point to suggest the necessary ambiance. And this impulsive studio performance of all four members is the first of a handful that left their stamp on the history of rock. To put it in a nutshell, it's a stone-clod classic. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Generally, The War On Drugs does nothing for me, yet I can see why this album is recognized as Granduciel's biggest achievement yet. It's just that, apart from some highlights here and there in those looooong tracks (see "Red Eyes" or "The Ocean Between The Waves", for instance), the music on *Lost In The Dream* is just too 'one-note' compared to things I usually like (okay, two-notes, as in "the same two chords" repeated and then transposed all over a song, ha ha). Lyrics are fine, with some striking one-liners here and there. Yet most of the compositions and arrangements are just too linear to seal the deal for me. Granduciel does his best Dylan impression on opener "Under The Pressure", then channels his inner Springsteen on " Red Eyes", often to great effects. But as much as I can appreciate those references, and as nice as this album *sounds* overall, its second part tends to fade away into the background as it drones on, one track blurring into the next without making much of a difference. I always try to keep an open mind, but clearly, I don't see what the fuss is all about with this borderline "bland"- band. I might reconsider that take, though, and so leave the door open for other listens. In the realm of acts inspired by Springsteen and the likes, I guess you can still consider "Lost In the Dream" as better than anything The Killers ever recorded, for instance. That's gotta count for something, right? :D Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here. Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far. Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter (including this one). Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter.

Four Stars And A Half All of the three Stooges album should be essential listens, if only for their historical importance. They foretell the explosion of punk music like no other records from the late sixties / early seventies. This one here (the second) is the most challenging of the lot on first listens. So wild. So noisy. But trust me, keep on trying, and you'll quickly sense the intensity of what The Stooges must have sounded live like none of their other albums. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Ego = Genius. At least here. This is the record where Ye started to lose it on a personal level, and yet what a gain for music. Yeezus is leaner, crispier and strikes harder than MBDTF, but the latter is certainly the richest, catchiest and most sprawling of the two propositions Tracks such as "Runaway", with that simple yet insanely efficient piano part, "Power", with its soulful African vocals, "All Of The Night", with its maddeningly sinuous horns, or "Monster", that mean psychotic banger with that killer featuring by Nicki Minaj, are the stuff of legend. Kanye West is, simply put, the Gertrude Stein of hip hop. What he does sometimes doesn't make a lot of sense at first, like with those weird lyrics, or that strange flow--besides, who can sample *both* Mike Oldfield and Gil Scott-Heron in the same frigging album? But the more you pay attention to those sorts of details and how they intricately woven into the whole, the more they can affect you, at least during that run of classic albums from the early 10s. And just like Stein, that old modernist writer of days yonder, Ye had a keen, very *American*, sense of how to promote his weird stuff to the wider world. This is how he will be remembered in the decades to come. As an American oddity. Because, let's face it, right? Americans are all a little crazy, aren't they? Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 911 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 49 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 25 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 19

*Not* one of the best Ye albums (for that early "college trilogy", *Late Registration* is certainly the strongest effort of the three), but this is how Kanye West came to be known for the wider world, and it's easy to understand why hip hop fans all over the world are still holding this album close to their heart. This record is mostly notable for two things: first, it broke the domination of gangster rap in the rap genre, and secondly, it promoted that "chipmunk soul" sound whose ripple effects can still be sensed today in the realm of "urban music". Too bad some of the songs and intentions are not fully formed yet. That being said, there are a few killer tracks on this record that are still holding out very well today, including that wonderful "Jesus Walks", with its unmistakable gospel stomp. It's not Ye-as-an-insane-genius yet. But it's still a worthwhile proposition. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 910 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 49 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 26 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 19

For now, this app says I don't like britpop. Wrong. I love it when it's well-written, topical as f*ck, smart and irreverent, nor to mention rich on a musical standpoint. Exactly what Pulp's magnum opus provides here. Oh, I almost forgot. And you can shake your rump on a dancefloor to a large chunk of those tracks, too. A huge plus that very few other britpop masterpieces can boast about. What more can you ask, really, eh? Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 909 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 50 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 26 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 19

Seriously? With all the great albums in the overall metal genre, you'd have to include *two* Iron Maiden records on the list? This one (the first one) is not even the fully-formed version of this band Maidenheads and other old fans are so crazy about, but it's still kitschy enough to be mocked by mostly everyone else (save a few songs that are strangely slower than usual). Not exactly a win-win situation here... Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter (including this one)

What else can be said about this one? It's the epitome of commercial Floyd, and yet it's first and foremost a timeless gem. Countless hi-fi systems are said to have been tested with this record during the seventies. But this album is not only great because of its sound. It's great because of the overall artistic intent, its *songs*, its pop instincts, its topical lyrics about madness, time and capitalism, not to mention its incredible (and trippy) sense of balance between experimentation and melancholic melodies. One for the ages. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 908 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 51 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 26 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 20

I didn't like LCD Soundsystem at the time they released their first three albums. I guess I was still a little too nostalgic for the nineties indie rock sound, and I found their party-driven, four-on-the-floor hits too shallow at first glance. But since those days, I've completely come around on what James Murphy set out to do with this band. Now I understand. Now I can shake my butt on those tracks AND appreciate the overall artistic intent, not to mention the often witty lyrics. Since those days, I've also learned to enjoy many classic albums by David Bowie and Talking Heads, and it's now clear to me why so many people at the time saw Murphy as the heir apparent of those legendary acts. So yeah, that string of three records LCD Soundsystem released during the aughts is part of my current CD collection and I often return to it. And this particular record here is probably the tighter, most effective of the lot. The first five tracks are absolute bangers, a relentless assault of clever sounds, mesmerizing rhythms and hooks, very much of their time, but still timeless. The simple, yet artfully thought-out arrangements on a track such as "Someone Great"--including that charming glockenspiel doubling up the main vocals--are showing how you can be both minimal *and* expansive for that sort of song (its runtime says 6 minutes, but they feel like three, honestly). Side B is more subtle, but it keeps you on your toes for its whole run. Those synth-processed backing vocals in the title track are nothing short of amazing, for example. And formidable closer "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" is both ironic AND moving, which is a combination rarely reached in modern music. So it's easily five stars for me now. As the French say, only fools never change their minds... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 907 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 52 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 26 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 20

An interesting listen, and an important "historical" document for fans of the genre (and conga players, I imagine). But I doubt even them will select this as the sort of album out of whom they take the most pleasure overall. But what do I know about those things, eh? Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  more than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter  Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter (including this one)

I'm pretty sure Trent Reznor now bitterly regrets ever having associated his name with this pathetic clown. But even before the accusations of psychological and sexual abuse, even before all those unsavory extramusical events surrounding the story of this psycho parading as an "artist", it was so obvious how poorly this music would age in a very short amount of time. Behind the shock glock shtick, behind the lame posturing and the make-up barely concealing the lack of any relevant ideas on a musical standpoint, everything in this record overblown to the extreme actually sounds... bland. To go back to Reznor, what we have here is a third-rate version of Nine Inch Nails at best (knowing the original is not necessarily for everyone anyway). Like horror films that fail to scare their viewers, and are not even fun to watch if you just want to have a good laugh with friends, it's just an embarassing moment. A waste of time. In the age of Korn and Nu-metal, I guess sone teenagers desperately trying to look edgy could fall for this ridiculous circus. I'm also pretty damn sure that 99% of those teenagers now grown to adults never return to this album. Or *any* album by Marilyn Manson--I do seem to remember a few stronger melodies on *Mechanical Animals*, so I might feel generous enough to give that one two stars if it ever pops up here. But no more than that. The only thing that seemed to redeem MM at the time was that it was the target of those Christian fundamentalist lunatics obssessed with dogma and self-repression. Those fanatics obviously can't understand art. But since MM himself doesn't understand what *good* art is, why should we bother trying to redeem him now? Especially today, with all the news... ? Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 900 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 52 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 27 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 22 (including this one)

One of my acquaintances in high school would give me the nickname 'Pixies' because of my love of this band at the time. So you can easily imagine how close to my heart this legendary record is. Probably in my top five list of all-time favorites... But reading the reviews from this group, it seems I'm far from being the only one to find this album so frigging good. Black Francis' muscled-yet-sugary pop chops, his geeky pot-pourri of surrealism conniving with references going from the bible to sci-fi, both of them mating with teenage angst--not to forget his stellar choruses and his mock-hardcore punk growls--along with Kim Deal's velvety background vocals or plucky basslines, Joey Santiago's forays into surf rock or jangle indie, and David Lovering's gated drums with a very retro (?) sound, (thanks to producer Gil Norton)--all of this makes it one for the ages, a record that's both adventurous and terrifically cohesive overall, both totally indiosyncratic and immediately catchy and hummable. A masterpiece. But what struck me the most reading all those reviews here, is the sheer number of *first-timers* telling how hard this record slapped them in the face, so to speak. Some of those first-timers already knew a few indie hits like "Wave Of Mutilation" or "Monkey Gone To Heaven" , but they couldn't anticipate how good everything else would be, from "Debaser"'s soaring introductory bassline to "Gouge Away'"s alternate use of minor and major chords to conclude the album on an ominous and surprisingly somber note. Commentators and reviewers have also rightly pointed out how important this album was for rock in general, with its quiet-loud-quiet dynamics foretelling the "alternative" explosion of the nineties of years later. But as Kurt Cobain knew himself--and this, probably at the very same time he confessed having 'ripped off' Pixies for "Smells Like Teen Spirit"--all of this wouldn't be worth a rat'a ass if the *songs* had not been so good. And personal. And hummable and weird and strange and funny and dark and twisted and light-hearted and wonderful. It takes a genius songwriter to recognize the genius of one of his peers. And this is what Doolittle is: pure genius. Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  less than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Well, oh well. It's decently crafted, at least, and if I try aiming for objectivity (an impossible task, admittedly), maybe that's three stars. But to be honest, the overall feeling I get from this band (and album) is that it's a subpar version of Blur trying to imitate the Kinks with a few glam or psychedelic sprinklings here and there (nice arragements but rather inconsequential for me given the nature of the songs). Super Furry Animals admittedly got right a lot of ingredients from one of those oh-so-effective britpop formulas. Except from one *key* element: truly *dynamic* melodies and harmonies. So, I'm a little sorry to say this, but overall, this record is way too bland for my rock tastes. And consequently, this "Fuzzy Logic" is gonna get two stars only. Because I can't feel anything listening to this band. The artistic intent and overall sense of pop melody is a little too... fuzzy for me. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 898 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 53 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 27 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 23 (including this one)

Springsteen's magnum opus. *Darkness In The Edge Of Town*, *Nebraska*, and *Greetings Form Asbury Park, NJ* are also quite nice, by the way. The rest is not worth your attention if you're not a fan already, especially *The River*, too long and self-indulgent, or *Born In The USA*, too damn cheesy overall (and I'm not even talking of the records after that). What about this one? It's nice, really, really nice. Catchy piano riffs and intricate guitar solos abound. The title track is both immediatly gripping AND sophisticated (that incredibly complex bridge towards the end), but each of the other cuts have something specific and moving to say (special mention to opener "Thunder Road", "She's The One", "Night" and epic closer "Jungleland"--rarely have blue-collar stories of love, work and everything in between been depicted in such a grand and precise scope). Awesome lyrics overall, which justify the Boss being so chatty during those songs--a problem if you like vocals that allow you to grasp some fresh air once in a while, but the lyrical outpouring is still (mostly) justified in here. Urban romanticism at its best. And the fact that the sound is a little dated actually brings another layer of charm to the whole thing. Oh, and for once in a rock album, the sax solos are a great addition here. RIP, Mr. Clemons. Bruce Springsteen put New Jersey in the map of rock'n'roll for eternity. And it's the world that can thank him for it. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 897 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 54 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 27 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 23

Damn, how the first five tracks of this one SLAP! The inclusion of Latin American rhythms within some of the most uncompromising metal of those years is just seamless. From "Roots Bloody Roots" to "Breed Apart", not a second is wasted to make this fusion works. Special mention to "Ratamahatta" and its incredible featuring of percussionist Carlinhos Brown. And Ross Robinson did a hell of a job on production (better than Andy Wallace for the former Sepultura classic *Chaos A.D.*). The later inclusion of field recordings of Amazonian tribes is also very nice. Sonically and topically relevant. I just wish that seamless inclusion of Brazilian influences has worked *until the end*. The second part of the album is indeed a little more hit or miss, and loses some of its momentum through its many u-turns (there's still that somewhat atmospheric track with Mike Pattton and Jonathan Davis--but such moments are too far and between). As a result, this record might just be a little too long. So, to put it in a nutshell, *Roots* is based on an awesome concept, one that somehow renews the whole metal genre. But the second half of this album *might* just be a little lacking in terms of sheer execution. That being said, even with those minor shortcomings, it should still be included in a list of 1001 most important albums. If only because there are not many crossover albums like this in the whole metal genre, ones that can bring curious listeners from the outside without alienating its hardcore fanbase. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 896 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 55 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 27 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 23

Four Stars And A Half. Why not five stars? Let's be *a little* serious for a second: an album with a cheesefest such as "The Girl Be Mine" can't possibly boast deserving a five-star review. Especially when such cheesefest is on the third slot of said album. McCartney is to blame on this one too, but mostly, the real culprit is probably producer Quincy Jones here. He should just have put his foot down and *at least* change the ordering of the tracks. In a way, this dud also foretells everything that went wrong with Michael Jackson afterwards (it's part of "Hisstory" ha ha). So I guess you'd better listen to it *once*, and then just skip it everytime you spin this album again. Just a friendly piece of advice here... This minor debacle being out of the way now, the fact that everything else on *Thriller* is spot on, even with such an early misstep in the tracklisting, tells a lot about how important this record is overall. Production values AND songwriting here go hand in hand to give an avid amateur of groove the time of their life. Rarely have pop, funk, rock, disco and r'n'b been so intricately and artfully mixed together. This album is just the stuff of legend--not only for those eternal hits that made Michael Jackson as a solo artist enter music history through luxurious front gates (the title-track, "Billie Jean", "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" or "Beat It"), but also for all those incredibly flawless arrangements driving the whole shebang to the max. This here is the best *blockbuster* album the eighties have ever given to the world, for which Jones can now be thanked a thousand times. Each rumbling bassline, each guitar lick, each beat, each comma--each raspy breath from Michael, even--is like a sonic dream come true. The care for details just leaves you speechless. And yet, just like many of those blockbuster movies from the same decade (by Steven Spielberg, Ron Howard or John Landis, who actually directed "Thriller"'s unforgettable video), the overall story this record offers you is also filled with a lot of charm and soul, as ludicrously grand and insanely ambitious as its settings are. The first record I had to review for this app was Jackson's aptly-named *Bad*. One of the very rare one-star reviews I have ever written for this project (please feel free to read it for yourself, for what it's worth). *Of course* I also had "Thriller" in mind as I wrote it, wishing I had had that one to review instead, if only to set the record straight about what I really thought about Michael Jackson as an artist. The circle is now complete. Now I can go on on this thing with a lighter mind (and with very open ears, that goes without saying... :) ...). In the meantime, I'll keep on trying to practice my moonwalk steps in my living room as I play this album again and again and again... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 895 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 56 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 27 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 23

The Flaming Lips are a band you must listen to at least once in your life. And "The Soft Bulletin" is the album most fans will probably tell you you must start with. It's a nice album overall. I'm just wondering about one little thing. My oh my, why hasn't anyone (other band members, producer Jonathan Friedmann--*anyone*) told the singer he was decidedly singing OFF-KEY during the takes??? I'm all for "rough" or "fragile" vocals in certain genres (like with Flaming Lips' models Mercury Rev, for instance). Emotion is sometimes more primordial than perfect notes as to how the human voice can affect listeners. It can bring a sense of authenticity that makes up for a singer's technical limitations. But there's a limit. And *The Soft Bulletin" clearly blows that limit away to pieces. This is how an album that could have been a legendary one, ends up being a good one instead. This is how you lose one star, folks. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 894 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 57 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 27 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 23

The mere fact that this list includes the eponymous first album by Queens Of The Stone Age and NOT *Songs For The Deaf* speaks TONS about Dimery and his collaborators' shortsightedness sometimes. This one here is a good record, no doubt about that. But everything in *Songs For The Deaf*--the sound, the songwriting, the performances--is at least TWICE better in that later, far more legendary album. And even for a second slot in a ranking of the band's discography, *Rated R* is actually probably more convincing overall than *Queens of The Stone Age*. It thus seems that stoner rock here joins the other genres where this list is quite wrong (jazz, post rock, punk hardcore, post-hardcore, metal hardcore...), either leaving out key albums of said genres or just lazily quoting first efforts by a few famous acts without ever trying to dig further into the close future to highlight the real true gems in those acts' discography. Dimery and friends only really do so for indie rock and britpop, sometimes with a few bizarre choices that don't necessarily make sense in the light of those other blatant omissions elsewhere. I blame some sort of shortsightedness that's clearly British in its origin--the *1001 Albums...* book's writers are all British, aren't they? It's not that American critics are right all the time either. But being French, and from this particular point of view, I think that a middle ground could be reached so as to find a more balanced view of recent music history in a (mostly) anglo-saxon context. Of course, all those considerations couldn't be further removed from the contents of this album (and its kinky cover). This record here is a nice entry point into the Stoner Rock/ Desert Rock sound of QOTSA (or even other bands like that). Go listen to it if you don't know that sort of sound yet, and if you're interested in motorik highways, heavy guitar riffs, tales of desert desperados, and mellifluous vocals mixed with a few howling and yellings here and there... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 893 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 57 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 28 (including this one--*Songs For The Deaf* should be included *first*) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 23

Let's all be a little honest for a second. None of the tracks from this album can compare with Paul's usual output in The Beatles. Now that this quite obvious statement is out of the way, is *Band On The Run* a good album? Well, it's not so bad all things considered, especially its two first and two last tracks. "Band On The Run" and "Jet" are nice hits, catchy yet both with original non-linear song structures that allow Wings to explore and experiment stuff a little. As for the last two tracks, they often call back to the (few) highlights of the album, giving a sense of closure to the whole thing. The problem is, almost everything between those two bookends drags A LOT, with very few obvious hooks or dynamic changes. Apart from a "ho-hey-ho" gimmick on the fourth track--one of the elements repeated in the very experimental "Picasso's Last Words before the closing title--there's not much that can worm its way inside your brain--which is quite disappointing coming from an ex-Beatles. And even this comes off as a letdown: we're here closer to the "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" sort of innocuous nonsense than to anything resembling "Eleanor Rigby", "Yesterday", "Back In The USSR", " Let It be" or "Hey Jude". For this particular writer and listener, *McCartney II* is the most satisfying post-Beatles album Macca ever released anyway. It's not a perfect album either, but at least this one is *truly* dynamic, in spite of the fact that it was primarily recorded at home. From one track to the next, this other record goes from synth experimentation with a proto post-punk edge to delicate balladery, and from unabashed cynicism to blue-eyed lyricism, with naive yet touching lyrics. Here is the Paul McCartney you can fondly remember, even though "II" is far less known than his records with Wings... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 892 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 57 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 28 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 24 (including this one)

I might grumble about the book this app is based on, but I have to admit this project also allows you to discover great stuff. I thought I knew the most important names in original British punk rock. I was dead wrong. This album is great (and the one after that is not bad either, as misunderstood as it was at the time). I still have to find my way as to what choice words I could use to convey how original this band was while still retaining the basic ingredients of punk. In the meantime, I'll merely highlight "One Chord Wonders", "Gary Gilmore's Eyes" (originally a single) or "Safety In Numbers" as the true punk gems they are. But mostly, I will finish this very short review by praising how f*cking epic closer "Great British Mistake" sounds, even today. Thanks, Dimery and co. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 891 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 57 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 24

"50 years later and it still sounds like the future," as someone wise said in this group. It's no coincidence Can has been quoted, praised or embraced by the likes of Radiohead, Portishead or LCD Soundsystem. This German answer to seventies prog-rock understood how one could convey the same hypnotic canvas without resorting to shtick or unnecessary campy solos. A wide variety of styles, from punk to techno, can thank those kraut prophets for their groundbreaking work. This particular album, the last one fronted by singer/howler Damo Suzuki is remarkable for many things, but what's probably most striking is the mesmerizing intricacies of the rhythm section and the very chilled, laidback instrumentation. Think of avant-garde brainy music students being suddenly stranded on a tropical desert island. The end result is lean, devoid of fat, and it's both tense and dreamy all at the same time. This is the last album in the legendary trilogy *Tago Mago*, *Ege Bayasim* and *Future Days* (to which one could easily add precursor *Monster Movie*--Malcolm Mooney was a spectacular frontman, too). As such, it should be owned by every fan of inventive, evocative, groovy, moody, leftfield, forward-sounding music. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 890 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 58 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 24

"Psycho Killer, qu'est-ce que c'est ? Pa pa pa paaa pa pa pa paaaa pa pa !" No band ever sounded like the Talking Heads. Originally I was not a *huge* fan--I only knew them through the compilation "Popular Favorites", and also their 1980 masterpiece, "Remain In Light". But since those days, I understood two things: a) Minus stuff on the level of " Once In A Lifetime" or "Psycho Killer", I finally understood that their so-called "popular favorites" are *mostly* NOT among my favorite tracks of theirs. Case in point here, the two first songs of this record, which I absolutely love (and yet were absent from this compilation I mentioned earlier...) b) No compilation, even one as comprehensive as it can reasonably be, can do justice to what the Heads do so brilliantly in their individual records (especially the first four of them). Some tracks take on a different meaning overall during the flow of these individual albums. ALL the songs are adventurous affairs with bold arrangements. And David Byrne can be an impressive storyteller sometimes... Consequently, I now get how this first record of theirs must have been a shock for rock (and punk) fans. This one here is interesting because it predates Brian Eno's involvement with the band. The overall sound is more direct, rawer, which brings a charm that's different from their later output. There's still that influence from protopunk bands such as The Modern Lovers (logical since the two bands had the same second guitarist). To put this in a nutshell, this record is worthy of its legendary status, Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 889 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 59 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 24

This starts off quite poorly. Like Steely Dan without the intricate jazzy arrangements. Like Billy Joel struggling to get an "indie" sound right (but to what ends would he do that, really?). It's just cheesy pop, competently written and decently played, but nothing that forces you to raise your head and want to pay more attention to the proceedings. In my opinion, reviewers who compared this band to REM should have their ears (or their brains) checked. There's none of the intensity found in most 80s output from Stipe, Berry, Buck and Mills. It's very generic, nothing that deserves to be included in a list of mandatory listens. At least on first glance. After the first two tracks, things fortunately pick up a little though. There are the two undeniable hits from the record, first "Fall At Your Feet", still admittedly a little cheesy in the way the singer is here wearing his heart on his sleeve, and yet boasting a memorable and even timeless chorus. And the same goes for "Weather With You", with its catchy singalong group vocal hook and its mesmerizing jangling guitar line worming its way to your mind. In between, the more lively "Tall Trees" *does* passingly deserve those earlier REM comparisons. At this point, one may hope that *Woodface* is one of those records with a slow build, keeping its best cuts on the second side, with only a few worthwhile appetizers on the first. That sort of tracklisting is rare, but it's pleasurable when it works out on the whole... Unfortunately, 90% of what follows those three songs sets us back to that *thick* snorefest mode felt at the start of the album, with very *boring* ballads, mostly... Only worthy of notice are "Four Seasons In One Day", where Finn channels his inner Paul McCartney to give a delicate, subtly composed cut. And the lush strings of "All I Ask" color things a little at least, even if the song itself sounds like a bad parody of "third stream" vocal jazz... As for the rest, every slow track fades into the next without leaving much of an impression. The Finn brothers can be strong songwriters when they want to (see the examples above), yet one can't help feeling they were somewhat lazy when it came to the music they wrote for this record, with all those textbook chord progressions and vocal lines (lyrics are a different animal, but they can't save the day either--not with so many long moments where nothing really happens on the musical level). Curiously, a very short hidden track at the end of this record finds the band in a totally different mood, jamming and yelling together in what is obviously a live take. A messy one, admittedly, but something *alive* at last... It's as if the band suddenly realized how bland everything was before, and wished to spice things up a little at the last minute. But it's too little and too late. They can yell "I'm still here" all they want. The problem is that, as a listener, *I'm* not, and only wish to go on to the next record, hoping to find something at least relatively *exciting*. So... Next, please. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 888 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 59 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 25 (including this one)

Give me rap-rock or rap-metal crossover albums anytime. Give me a *bit* of nu-metal, even. Give me heavy guitar riffs, true rebellion, sharp politically-minded lyrics. Or, on the contrary, give me brutally sincere descriptions of personal malaise. Anything that finds an artistically relevant way to scream: "I'm alive, this world is fucked up, I suffer, but I'm alive!". Give me Rage Against The Machine, System Of A Down, Deftones, the "Judgment Night" motion picture soundtrack... Even the early Korn albums can work out... But don't give me this overbloated, overproduced turd of a record. Heck, turds have taste at least, or so I hear. :) As you can, I won't mince words about this band (and first album). But I've got my reasons. To me, *Hybrid Theory* is indeed the epitome of blandness--nothing in it *feels* honest or authentic. You might tell me Chester Bennington's lyrics drew from his difficult childhood experience, I just can't find a way to *care* about them. Because the end results here are just plain corny--there's none of the strong imagery delivered by his pal Chino Moreno, for instance, or the latter's intense, dynamic performance throughout Deftones' discography. The so-called "rebellion" or "malaise" in Linkin' Park's lyrics actually amount to pointing at nothing in particular, with vague references about "bad memories" and the likes. And those lyrics are just *one* ingredient among others in a mechanical formula. They just have nothing to say. And they even manage to say it badly. The same goes for the cheesy, dated rapping, or the vocal lines for the choruses and singing parts, which are *always* predictable--unimaginative melodies copied-and-pasted over unimaginative guitar riffs, so slick and clean they actually sound like synths. Because no, the instrumentation is not good either, as competent the performers (or production tools) are. The band does the same thing all over again, mostly, with the same sort of lazy, overdone tricks being applied from start to finish. Guitar saturation is here used to raze everything to the same orderly level, devoid of any true *life*. A paradox of sorts, which owes more to protools shenanigans than any thought-out concept behind the music. Which makes sense, given that saturation is also used here to hide the lack of any shred of meaningful idea. That's probably what's "Hybrid" in the "Theory" here--this thing being *both* lifeless AND brainless. Even the electronic/abstract hip hop asides suck, minus the very short "Cure For The Itch", maybe--but to be fair, this minor track towards the end is nothing but a secondhand attempt at a DJ Shadow-like instrumental... And just as everything in the album--that awful cover, for instance--its inclusion in the tracklisting looks like a decision made by a corporate committee, not one made by a real, genuine band showing personality. And just like everything else, it's a stylistic dead end. *Hybrid Theory* made millions, admittedly (not necessarily a sure sign of quality, but OK). It sold a hold a huge lot. Yet it's a dead-end nonetheless. Void. Sterile. We can just all be glad and grateful that teens or kids these days are not listening to such crap anymore. At least, they'll make *fresh* mistakes of their own... In the light of Bennington's still recent suicide, this personal judgment about what is merely a piece of art here might sound harsh, of course, even exaggerated. May the man rest in peace, God bless his soul, and so on... May people who go through what he had to go through, just like Chris Cornell or Kurt Cobain, or anybody else, find the help they need to survive. To be honest, I wish that this band had at least provided Bennington that catharsis he so direly needed to get better. And this aside obviously goes beyond any personal tastes about music. One could have hoped that years after their first commercial success, Linkin' Park's singer might have found some meaning in his life. But things don't always work out that way, even when you manage to "make it". Friends who knew Bennington seem to say he was a good person. I don't know, I didn't know him. But I just hope that fans who are reading this understand I have nothing against the man. I simply didn't like the artist, and the band he was part in. These things happen... As for the rest, be aware that hope comes in many forms, and that if music, good or bad, can't save you, you can *still* find other ways out--through reaching out to friends or a family genuinely caring for you, or through mental health professionals. Anything that can help you get better. But I'd rather hear about who Chester Bennington was as a person rather than having to listen to his music again. It's not for me. In a way, critics' accusations that the band had "sold out" for 2017's pop-oriented *One More Light*--that they now suddenly sounded "as if they were selected by committee", to be more precise--were totally and absolutely nonsensical to my ears. Because to me, they've *always* been this way. A few yellings and heavy guitar riffs here and there couldn't hide the fact that they've never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, musically speaking. And Bennington's offensive public replies to those misguided critics did not only show how fragile his mental state was, but also how lost he was as to the sort of audience his band had entertained for all these years. And there's probably a good reason for that. Because a) that audience had never been picky for sure. And b) it was dwindling album after album anyway. In all honesty, it's a bit of a mystery *who* this music is aimed at today, in 2022 (both for what it was in 2017 AND what it had been in 2000). And this, also, makes me kinda sad... Not for Bennington, this time, but for the standards generally followed by this list of records. So next, please... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 887 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 59 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 26 (including this one)

"Creep" saved Radiohead. This single came from a half-baked album, *Pablo Honey*, clumsily mixing britpop with some more "American" influences. But "Creep" was a hit and showed Radiohead they had it in them to make a record for the ages. And since the Oxford quintet was not afraid to take a long, hard look at what they had just done with their first LP (a mindset they would mostly keep for their whole career, up until today), they knew what needed to be done. A perfect balance between self-confidence and self-criticism was the key. And it opened a door that led to one of the most brilliant discographies ever put to tape. In the course of this discography, *The Bends* is therefore Radiohead's first masterpiece (there's been five of them by my count, but first times always have their peculiar charm, don't they?). To say it shortly, this first masterpiece was mostly remarkable in the manner it aptly mixed twisted rockers and heartwrenching ballads. Everything is stellar in it--the songwriting, the lyrics, the vocal performances, the intricate bass-and-guitar arrangements, John Leckie's clean yet no-nonsense production. Tracks segue into one another in a totally dynamic way. The dystopian atmosphere that will further be explored in *OK Computer* and *Kid A* can already be felt (but this time through generally more streamlined compositions than what would come next). And the songs, the songs... Between the intense title-track, the melancholic "High And Dry", the devastatingly beautiful "Fake Plastic Trees", the tight and angular "Just", the sinister guitar hook of the messy and sardonic "My Iron Lung", not to mention the epic and poignant closer "Fade Out", with its elegiac arpeggio and truly *haunted* chorus, there's a little bit for everyone. And yet this record still sounds cohesive and ambitious, as adventurous as it is--every britpop or US alt-rock influence being properly digested to mingle into a wide-sounding sonic landscape, every vocal intention and guitar lick serving a discourse that transcends style or genres. This here is one of those very rare albums where there's absolutely no fillers (just like *OK Computer*, actually)--each track has something unique going on for it, even the ones I didn't mention up there. I can't but envy the people who are discovering it today, 25 years or so later. And given what most reviewers are saying in this group, they are certainly not disappointed... But this is no surprise (and no alarm, to quote a later song). Just as opener "Planet Telex" states it, Radiohead are never sounding better than when they lament that "everything is broken", only to pick up those disparate pieces and shape them into a single body of work that's unique, moving and relevant. They're THE postmodernist rock band of the late nineties / early aughts. And as such, they deserve to have their seats at the table of the greatest acts ever... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 886 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 60 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 26

It's either hit or miss with Tom Waits, as far as I'm concerned, and this at whatever point of his long and productive career. But I gotta admit I undertstand why this abum in particular is often quoted by his more casual fans. It's part of that string of albums in the 80s where Waits dived into weirder territory, not that his mock-jazz, mock-blues, mock-cabaret act has ever been a normcore affair anyway... Listening to *Rain Dogs* with a little more attention, I sense that I could very well become one of those casual fans in time. The writing (the lyrics first, but the music, instrumentation, and arrangements, too--see those poetic-yet-often-ominous marimbas) is top-notch on this record (starting with 'Singapore' and 'Clap Hands', but also for many other tracks here). What's working out quite well in this particular album is that it's well-balanced, between weird experimental interludes, moody pieces where Waits is as much an actor as he is a singer, and more straightforward love songs, where his voice is a little less 'outré' and even suggests a very *slightly' inebriated Springsteen (so someone with whom you could have a normal conversation, which is not the case cuts that are out of this category here). A quite dynamic entry overall, where you don't *necessarily* need the lyrics sheet to get into the songs (reading those words is a plus, but it's not mandatiry), contrary to less accessible records of his. Maybe I'm slowly becoming a casual fan, who knows? Since this app suggested me to spin it, I've even found a secondhand copy of this record online. Given that I've never found any Tom Waits compilation that fully satisfied me (it's always missing tracks that i wish i had), "Rain Dogs" will happily be my key Tom Waits album. Until the next suggestion, maybe... Number of albums left to review or just listen to:  less than 900, I've temporarily lost count here Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens:  approximately a half so far (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: a quarter, approximately Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): the last quarter

Whoever in here said there wouldn't have been a *Nevermind* without this record didn't understand where Kurt Cobain drew inspiration from at all--replace Nirvana with Red Hot Chili Pepper, and now we're talking... This minor quibble aside, what can I say about this album? It's not so bad. But it's not so good either. The second side, with its long borderline-psychedelic ballads, has certainly aged better than the first displaying those happy-go-lucky cuts reeking of rock clichés from the late 80s, ones that would soon be wiped out by the nineties indie-rock / slacker rock / noise rock/ grunge / post-hardcore explosion (take your favorite pick). I'm all for a little exhilatrated tracks with a sunny disposition here and there, but given the conspicuous absence of certain genres that can also boast of such exhilaration in Dimery's list (melodic hardcore punk, for instance--far more powerful in its directness compared to those hackneyed clichés displayed on the first side of this record), I find it quite unfair that this album should be singled out instead of others. You want to get rockers with a slightly funky subtext, led by a clear and direct voice? Go to Turnstile's last two LPs (the last one was out last year). Or go to the other melodic hardcore punk bands they kinda ripped off... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 884 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 61 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27 (including this one)

Without Dimery's list (which I was able to find online), I would never have discovered this wonderful record, one of those rare kinds of albums that transcends its day and age while fully sounding *from them*. Like mostly everyone interested in sixties music, I knew (and liked) famous Yardbirds stuff such as the Graham Gouldman-penned "For Your Love" and "Evil Hearted You". But "Roger The Engineer (The Yardbirds)" is so much more than that... Contrary to what a few reviewers with a short attention span have written here, Clapton was already out of the picture when the band recorded this album--and it was a good thing: Clapton was then way too "conservative" at the time with his blues orthodoxy to let "Roger"'s adventures happen (the man also proved how obnoxious he could be on many occasions during his later career--but that's a story for another time...). The end result here is that the band then used Jeff Beck to replace him, and this to great effects if you're a fan of good guitar playing--see for instance the technically impressive "Jeff's Boogie". Yet all of this wouldn't be worth a rat's ass if the birds hadn't embraced the psychedelic shenanigans of those days in such an orginal and varied way. From the bizarre yet mellifluous fuzz riffs of hit "Over, Under, Sideways, Down" to the groovy basslines of "Lost Women" and "Hot House Of Omagarashid", the mood is definitely "shaggadelic, babe!" at an Austin Powers-on-LSD level of intensity. Yet as fun as those tracks are, they never fully forget that Chicago blues inspiration either. "Roger The Engineer" just allows you to hear that sound evolving to become... something else. And that something else is the future of rock'n'roll. You can obviously smell whiffs of Led Zeppelin here and there (Jimmy Page is indeed the young guitarist who will replace Jeff Beck not long after this record). You can even behold the seed that would be soon sowed in Iommi and Osbourne's twisted minds not long before they created Black Sabbath in the mystical "Turn Into Earth" and "Ever Since The World Began" (especially in the latter's long introduction). This closer actually sums up the scope of moods embraced by the album, from a droning lament to a lively booter shaker to cap things neatly and nicely. For this album, I highly recommend the 1987 Impact Record edition, because it includes the killer single "Happening Ten Years Time Ago" *within* the tracklisting (and not in the end, as a bonus, as in the online links provided here). That single is simply a masterpiece and deserved to be part of the feast anyway. French alternative rock fans will find its riff, quickly descending half tone after half tone, familiar. That riff was actually ripped off by Noir Désir for their hit "Tostaky" (directly or indirectly), their stroke of genius being that thay also gave it an *ascending* counterpart. But apart for this riff, the single has many other assets to boast about, so don't forget to give it a spin too... So here it is: "Roger The Enginner". More than a psychedelic doodle, it is a fully realized vision--adventurous, fun yet ambitious in its scope and moods. A hidden gem that deserves each and everyone of its five stars. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 883 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 62 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27

It's surf rock meets punk meets indie rock meets pop meets sci-fi obsession meets teenage lust. Or, should I say, it's Dick Dale meets Hüsker Dü meets REM meets Ed Wood meets The Shangri-Las. It's those explosive chord changes and barks by Black Francis. It's those spacey solos by Joey Santiago. It's those straightfaced background vocals and straightforward basslines by Kim Deal. It's those metronomic gated drums by David Lowering. It's Gil Norton's streamlined production. It's that stellar songwriting all around, minus a very few patchy songs here and there (4.5/5 would be my exact score for this particular record, but let's not split hairs, there's enough great stuff in it to justify its presence on the list). It's a good memory, but not only that: I must have listened to the first four albums from this legendary band a thousand times, but everytime this app points me to one of them, I bob my head to it just like I did during the nineties. It's cinematic AND musical. It's wild AND melodic. It's definitely from the nineties as I said, but it also has that late fifties/early sixties mood and atmosphere to it. It's like no other band. It's the apex of early indie rock, one that would reshuffle all cards in the decade to come. It's lively. It's catchy. It's terrific. It's the frigging Pixies in their heyday. Enough said. Oh, I almost forgot. As I'm spinning "Bossanova" in my living room right now, my 16-year old stepson just told me how much he loves this band too. He definitely comes from another day and age, musically speaking. But he can recognize truly awesome stuff when he stumbles upon it. A timeless record. One of the very few you can find out there. Keep them coming, Dimery and co. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 882 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 63 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27

The template of post-punk. Or, should I rather say, the first temple, given the peculiar 'space' felt throughout this record, which is wide-sounding and yet claustrophobic at the same time. Martin Hannet's production ideas were one of a kind, for better (most of the time) or for worse. Yet the band also had a very dark vision of how late-20th century music should sound after punk, no matter how many times Hannet pulled the rug from under their feet with his off-kilter ideas (like putting that simple, propulsive yet very melodic bass forward in the mix, instead of the guitar--with great effects on tracks such as "Disorder", "Insight", "She's Lost Control"). From this battle of minds, some essential spark came forth. And this spark fully transcended the bum notes here and there, a few clumsy rhythm transitions and some off-key instruments in short yet clearly discernible moments. Ian Curtis had such a powerful presence anyway, such a sepulchral aura, both vocally and as a lyricist (not to mention his persona onstage), that all those minor flaws up there didn't matter anymore. And they still don't today. This record (with admittedly a very few others down the line, by Wire, The Cure, Gang of Four, or Siouxsie and the Banshees) gave birth to a whole genre. Of course, it's got to be a mandatory listen... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 881 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 64 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27

I'm writing this right after the Netflix series Stranger Things made "Running Up That Hill" a hit in the charts again. But then again, I didn't really need a TV series to be at least aware of Kate Bush's magnum opus, from which this song is the opener. And on a closer listen, I can finally understand the myriad ways in which this record is a treasure trove, and why it is so loved by fans. Its first side ("Hounds Of Love" proper) is not only filled with hits but also with incredible arrangements transcending often off-kilter songwriting skills. In the realm of pop, I'm usually a sucker for verse-chorus-verse structures, but this is not really how Bush proceeds, is it? Her pop songs are more driven by very careful progressions starting from one single idea, and this is where her devilish arrangements--a lot of them handled by herself through synths and whatnot--are playing a key part. Whether they enter the scene as bass drums ("Running Up That Hill"), strings staccatos ("Hounds Of Love" and "Cloudbusting" ), or infectious, frantically slapped basslines ("The Big Sky"), such arrangements are always bringing a peculiar atmosphere that makes such pop songs one-of-a-kind, almost "goth" in their intent. *Some* of those flourishes sound admittedly a little dated today (I still dream of a version of "Cloudbusting" without that oversimplistic binary drum part, with just the strings, for instance), but even those have their quaint charms now. And Kate's vocal work is rich enough to make up for those somewhat dated flaws anyway. Such work is often mellifluous, expansive and mystical--with even Bulgarian chants overtones sometimes, not up to a Meredith Monk-level of craziness, but quirky enough to keep you on your toes. Yet this voice that muses and yodels and grunts and coaxes can also be restrained from time to time, as in the delicate "Mother Stands For Comfort", whose synths, basslines and ambiguous lyrics about the mother of a possible murderer haven't aged a day... In the second part of the record, The Ninth Wave suite, Bush then goes to a full experimental mode, and this where her genius shines the most. Even more than on the first, more "normal" side, she uses her kaleidoscopic voice the way a painter uses a color palette, adding spots and dots and streaks throughout the suite, dizzying the listener into a sonic whirlwind (I'm pretty sure Björk or Tori Amos took a lot of notes here). This second side places the listener in media res inside a loose tale about death and rebirth, something apparently disconnected from the first part of the record.... But more than this vague narrative conceit, it is the sounds and notes that are the true narrators of the tale here. Chilly synths evoke a frozen lake ("Under Ice"), voice collages of all sorts suggesting posession and curses and witchcraft bring a postmodern, Laurie Anderson-like flavor to the middle of the yarn ("Waking the Witch", "Watching You Without Me"), while uilleann pipes, fiddles and bouzouki trigger a celtic tornado that suddenly resets all expectations (thus creating a frantic "Jig Of Life" whose clever harmonies can send you to an exhilarated state, and this even if, just like me, you're not a fan of celtic music)... As for "Hello Earth" and its slow-motion clash between sinister Hollywood-style strings (arranged by film composer Michael Kamen) and eerie choirs interpolating a traditional Georgian lament, it just simply takes you to... space. There you can admire our fragile blue planet just the way that gigantic baby does ominously at the end of Kubrick's *2001* ("Hello, Earth... Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo..."). After such a cosmic trip, Kate seems to wake up, as if from a feverish dream, and offers us a very short coda in the shape of a miniature track, "The Morning Fog", a very lively pop song totally at odds with everything before, led by John Williams's licks on acoutic guitar. Here it sounds as if Bush is ready to start the day and join her loved ones, her long dream becoming just a distant memory in the space of seconds... Rarely have closers sounded so *both* out of place and yet so effective, in a way... But this should come as no surprise after so many twists and turns. Kate Bush is indeed an enigma, a true sorceress whose cauldron teems with sounds and colors and ideas. She's admittedly an acquired taste for many music fans. Yet legions of them will eventually come (back) to her, again and again. And "Hounds Of Love" being her most ambitious record, *both* in its experimental leanings and its pop instincts, it is obviously *the* one place where you must start if you want to know more about the damn witch. If said witch floats instead of sinking into you--namely, if this album goes over your head on the first listen--send her back to the river, and spin the record again. At some point, its spell will work on you, at least if you're open enough to sorcery. *This* is a wizard's promise... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 880 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 65 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 29 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27

This one often comes up in lists of best records ever (or just best *jazz* records, but given the gaping holes in Dimery's list in that specific genre, you can't expect it to be fully taken seriously anyway...). Towards the end of her life, Billie had the idea to record her own "In The Wee Small Hours", and when you listen to the lush strings orchestration around her gracile, fragile voice, it sure seemed like a great idea on paper. Holiday was no Sinatra, especially at this point of her broken life, so the overall effect is altogether different from Frank's crooning. But whatever huge fans of Lady Day's might first think of *Lady In Satin*'s overall concept, they must absolutely listen to this album at least once in their lives, that's for sure... Yet can the same be said for fans of music in general? For me there are at least two records from Holiday's fifties period that should be listened to first, *before this one*, if only for the timeless jazz standards that can be found in them. The first is *Stay With Me*, a generally lively, big band record which can boast of great versions of "Ain't Misbehaving", "Everything Happens To Me" and "Say It Isn't So". And the second is the very melancholic *Lady Sings The Blues*, with wondrous cuts such as the title track, "Love Me Or Leave Me", "Too Marvelous For Words", but most especially a poignant and very melodramatic take on her legendary "Strange Fruit", one of the best protest songs ever written throughout history. Compared to those timeless standards, the compositions of *Lady In Satin* sound a bit lackluster and samey, in spite (or maybe actually *because*) of their classy " third stream" orchestration. The writer of these lines prefers to hear a "rawer", back-to-blues-basic, version of Lady Day, no matter how raw her vocal performance actually is on this record. Which implies a tracklising a little more focused and dynamic than the one found in *Lady In Satin*, even if "dynamic" will never ne the right word for Billie Holiday's nonchalant art... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 879 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 65 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 30 (including this one) Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27

The mere fact that two decades in since the start of her musical career, and after all the great albums she put out, PJ Harvey managed to conceptualize, write, and record one of the top three LPs she's ever released justifies the presence of "Let England Shake" in this list. What we have here is a very rare animal. It's a loose concept album about war and its weight on the English collective consciousness, but this admittedly ambitious conceit never goes in the way of the overall musicality and individual strength of the songs gathered for said record's tracklist. Those songs are indeed some of the most memorable she ever penned, between the lively numbers "Let England Shake", "The Words That Maketh Murder" (and its infectious male background vocals by Mick Harvey and longtime producer John Parish), and the cavalry horn-propelled "In The Glorious Lands", not to mention all the poignant ballads interspersed in the middle of thdm ("The Last Living Rose" and "All And Everyone" come to mind here, even if none of those already great cuts can can match with "In The Dark Places" and its epic finale--hear those moving voices lamenting about a world born out of WW1 trenches and weep, dear listener). Parish's production of those admirable compositions is balanced, dynamic and subtle--rarely has auto-harp in a "rock" album sounded so good before--and Polly Jean's vocal performance is one-of-a-kind--each inflexion of her voice, from shrill and eccentric adlibs to lower and more grounded moments, clearly telling the listener that she is inhabited by many different characters in the course of her musical yarn. Add lush brass to the mix as a colorful conterpoint, and the end result is one of the best albums of the 2010s, and certainly the best record of 2011. Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 878 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 66 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 30 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27

I've often grumbled against the glaring omissions in the jazz selections of this list, but with this particular album, I'm forced to admit that Dimery and co. simply dug gold. I'm not a jazz specialist, just an open-minded amateur, so I didn't know who Abdullah Ibrahim/Dollar Brand was at all. Therefore, I've listened to this record with absolutely zero expectations, and I must say I'm totally enthralled by it now. It started off in quite a subdued way, though. At first, "Mandela" sounded a little too big band-like, almost too quaint to my ears, in spite of the obviously important theme suggested by its name, especially coming from a South African musician. But then each track that followed grasped my attention in a different way, from the gentleness of "Song For Sathima" and the driven focus of "Marenberg Revisited" (a variation on an important musical milestone written by Ibrahim more than a decade earlier--and a significant instrumental statement against Apartheid), and this continuing up to the arabic flavors of "Tuang Guru" and the heartwrenching finale of the short ballad "The Wedding". Closer "Sameena" was also a huge surprise in the way its minimalistic, nearly atonal introduction on brass and winds steadily grew into a meditative piece that ensnared my ear up until the very last Just like for pianist Ibrahim, I didn't know the other performers on this record either, but they're all doing an excellent job conveying the myriad emotions and colors gathered in this tight, tight package. *Water From An Ancient Well*'s scope is so impressive, and its tracklisting is so dynamic--so varied yet so cohesive too--that it instantly got a 5-star mark from me. This sort of thing doesn't often happen, so you can be sure I'll return to that proverbial well from time to time... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 877 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 67 (including this one) Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 30 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 27

Had this suggestion been *Breakfast In America*, which is obviously part of Dimery's list with its string of timeless hits, I might have considered including this particular record in my own list of 1001 albums to listen to. But here, in the case of *Crime Of The Century*, and apart from "Dreamer" in it, there are no timeless hits to speak of. Good records can't only be build on them, admittedly, otherwise they would be "best of" albums... But the snag for *Crime Of the Century* is that more than half of the cuts in it are not particularly compelling: their overall production and a lot of the instrumentation and arrangements have aged poorly, to be honest, leaving a somewhat bland taste on the tongue. Besides, other reference points to describe this record are always detrimental to it. Supertramp are sort of prog rock, but they can't instill a truly evocative and ambient atmosphere the way Pink Floyd did. Or they can't play with time shifts and rock out like Yes, for instance. Plus, they're kinda soft-rock, but there are none of the melodic twists and turns or off-kilter chord changes that made Steely Dan the somewhat enigmatic band they were. There are a few lively moments in this tracklisting (apart for "Dreamer", mostly the end sections of "School", "Rudy" and the title track). But those peaks can't make up for the overall snorefest plains running all the way to the horizon elsewhere. At times, listening to this album feels like being that guy locked behind interdimensional bars on its cover. You think something interesting or exciting might be about to start. But it very rarely does, actually. And so you're stuck in limbo. That doesn't make this album the *musical* "crime of the century", I'll grant you that. But that doesn't make it a mandatory listen either. The only thing that can save Supertramp is when their songwriting is direct enough to mark your memory--which was the case for the four hits of *Breakfast In America*, plus a few other cuts in it, making it a more consequential album. At least they managed to leave their imprint on pop culture thanks to their singles, which very few acts can do, at least to this extent. By the way, and on this subject precisely, there's also "The Very Best Of Supertramp" available out there. Listen to it first, *and then*, if you're really digging it, see for yourself if the rest is right up your alley... Number of albums left to review or just listen to: 876 Number of albums from the list I find relevant enough to be mandatory listens: 67 Albums from the list I *might* include in mine later on: 30 Albums from the list I will certainly *not* include in mine (many others are more important): 28 (including this one)