Perfectly fine but massively overrated since day one. I refuse to continue that trend.

Australia's “most original band”? Maybe. “Least talented” seems a safer bet. Can you tell this book by its cover? You can.

Just when you thought metal could go no lower, along comes to Linkin Park to add the most annoying elements of several other genres (especially emo) to drill deeper still. The combination of sheer awfulness with utter pomposity is potently toxic to the ears of anyone with any taste at all. How it sold 32 copies, let alone 32 million, boggles the mind, but that's popular taste, innit. See The Onion's Winner's History of Rock and Roll for the imbalance.

In its favor are the relatively clean production, the obvious politics, some broad hot licks and a band name/album title that is ultimate in truth in advertising. On the downside is the adolescent rage, the sameyness, and the length – my god, is this too long. Generic, white suburban rage is all fine and perfectly acceptable in its place but really should avoid going on too long – an analogy to outgrowing one’s youthful idealism. This record could’ve conserved energy and increased its impact by being 33-50% briefer. Beyond a few glimmers of impressive playing, it’s not really necessary to hear this before death unless one plans to die very young – and before developing more refined tastes.

Is fully what it is – which is mainly chaotic and screechy. I guess you had to be there. Might also help to know more about the jams they were aiming to kick out and how/why they were/are different than countless other politically outraged combos yowling their heads off in garages around middle America. Maybe just screechier and more chaotic? The big, slabby, psychedelic guitar riffs are decent; one half-expects them to break into “Wild Thing” at a few moments. Their oft-repeated “thank yous” at the end of every song are interesting; for outraged protesters, they seem awfully grateful and even mannerly toward the audience (not that that’s a bad thing). What this is not is musical or very listenable. Like, literally – it’s nearly impossible to hear what’s being shouted … er, sung. Also seems worth noting that a good bit of what's audible sounds like it might be about love and, you know, girls, not the military industrial complex, the pigs, racism, etc (though of course one can make out a bit of that stuff, too). Lastly, would Sun Ra consider this a tribute? Maybe including one (or more) of his records would help us know. 1.5 for 2 (and only because rounding up makes me feel slightly better about my lack of political commitment and because I’m sure the live shows were fun and as many got laid as achieved consciousness-raising).

Feeling this is a little too quiet and modest (the original “twee” album maybe?) to be a full five stars but there are a few gems – ”Fly” and “Northern Sky” (the latter truly an all-time gem). I listened to this record so often in early 2000s that I may have worn it out. Also is downgrade due to “it’s been underrated so long that it actually become overrated” syndrome and the suffering at the hands of Wes Anderson. 4.1

Opener sets the tone, with just wicked, haunting guitars and drums so distant in the mix, like they were recorded down the hall in another room. A little less droning, a bit more melodic and touch more energetic than Seventeen Seconds. Still brooding but not as comprehensive a gloomfest. Is this record to emo what Gregorian Chant is to contemporary classical music? 3.65 but a reluctant 4 due to lack of hits and because their best work was still ahead.

Perfectly okay, but a bit maximalist and just too big for my tastes. I confess to some bias: my slots for this type of band and from this era have long been filled to capacity (and then some).

Everything a classic rock album should be – loud and proud, impassioned and (okay, sure) a little bombastic. They steal the blues template blatantly and shamelessly, of course, but somehow they expand, amplify and make the blues their own (e.g., “How Many More Times”) much more effectively than other bands that took the same starting point. Awesome opening moments on both “sides” – the drum-spliced riff on “Good Times, Bad Times” and the organ on “Your Time Is Gonna Come.” Plant is surely the best of this generation of vocalists – selling “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” like an actor dying on stage, with such rollicking drama in the arrangement in the playing. Page is just a genius, unleashing massive, outlandish solos and jagged riffs, and then applying the subtlest of touches (e.g., the slide echos on “Your Time” and the pastoral bits on “Black Mountain Side”). And has there ever been a more authentically druggy song than “D & C”? Bonzo and JPJ lay down an appropriately bottom-heavy beat – like immovably leaden. One of the best debuts in rock and roll history, surely. My 16-year-old self is delighted that this record still sounds as good as it does.

Perfectly fine but massively overrated since day one. I refuse to continue that trend.

Gritty and funky, sad and even silly at time – a true career renaissance after 29 records and a stage setter for the sprawling and even weirder work to come in the decades that followed. There's a direct link from this record to Rough and Rowdy Ways! I'm a Lanois fan and love the atmospherics, but get the criticism of some of the production choices. Several of these songs that I turn to time and again, but a few mehs make me round down to 4 from 4.5. Maybe a slightly shorter record would have been better.

Sure it's demonic but its obnoxiousness is the bigger problem. The odd interesting figure and the mellower sections ("Piggy") and parts of the last song suggest that this project could have been much less of a spectacle, if not fully redeemable.

Perhaps the best Beatles record not made by the Beatles, this is maximalist chamber pop that veers into overindulgence now and then. Partridge sings like McCartney and writes songs like Lennon. There’s real joy and some pathos, and the quality is sustained at a high level across the record even it’s occasionally too clever by half. 4.2 for 4.

Sandy Denny's amazing vocals and the band grinds, chugs and sweeps over the folk material, updating it for modern times in ways that feel energizing and innovative on the one hand, and spiritually respectful and true on the other. There are dark and haunting moments, too, that add to the richness.

A masterpiece on multiple levels –  beats and samples, the rhymes and flows, plus world-class production. Plus, a ton of fun to listen to. Humor underrated in every genre of pop music and Tip et al make it look/sound so easy. Loved it 30+ years ago (Christ, can it be that long!?!?!) and it sounds just as good today.

Some cliches live up to the reputation, don't they, and I suppose IB was one of the reasons the ‘60s were the ‘60s? This could provide the soundtrack to any number of films from that decade. It’s heavy-heavy, with a bit more organ than ideal, and too sprawling, generally. (Infinite Jest might be the In-a-Gadda-Da-Vida of contemporary novels.) But the songs are surprisingly layered and varied. If you’re up for (maybe I mean down for) the heaviness, it’s a solid listen throughout, even intermittently tuneful and sweet. Not terrible for being terribly cliched, in other words. It would be cool to hear some contemporary groups cover these songs, but current acolytes seem thin on the ground. Still, it’s easy to see how they might have become Pink Floyd. “Flowers and beads are one thing" -- truer words have never been spoken. A for effort – meaning 3.6 for 4.

This was the record that made DS so popular that no one liked them anymore. Like everything they did, it’s of very high quality, but this one lacks life and edge. Serious points off for becoming ubiquitous (and thus annoying) in my first painful year of college (not entirely Knopfler’s fault it was painful) and generally being too polished, slick and too big a hit. Demerits also for using state-of-the-art (also smug) ‘80s production effects (keys and synths especially, Sting backing vocals). And for parodying MTV while being totally of it … by design and in execution. They wanted it both ways, I suppose, and got it. Trigger warning on the homophobic language, too – oh, that shameful go-go decade. The “Money for Nothing” hook is great, if obvious. “So Far Away” and “Walk of Life” are pretty good, too. “Your Latest Trick” and “One World” are tops to my ears, and the more considered non-hits in the middle and back stand up better than the chart-toppers. It’s interesting to me that the record ends very quietly, in contrast to the very loud opening hook of its most famous song. As a whole, it’s all far below (less artful, less serious, way too obviously reaching for mainstream acceptance) than the previous work – the first record, Love Over Gold and Making Movies especially. I like that it freed Knopfler to do what he wanted but he never got his mojo back (commercially or artistically) and has mostly noodled since. Sorry, book editors, but the production here makes this anything but “timeless” – who can hear this and not think mid- to late ‘80s? You want timeless, try “Water of Love,” “WIld West End,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Skateaway” or “Telegraph Road.” One must be careful not dismiss things just because they’re popular, but, while this deserves a 4, I’m protesting and penalizing with a 3 because everyone (even the authors) still overrates this at the expense of the earlier, simpler and superior efforts.

Sharp and edgy as you’d expect, with a little more fluidity in the drama and darkness than on earlier records, plus a new inclination to droning. “Spellbound” sets a decent tone and “Arabian Knights” is strong. The vocals are distinct and memorable, though occasionally, it sounds as if she’s singing from down a long tube. The slashing-echoing guitars are intermittently interesting (e.g., “Into the Light”). Still, overall, this is hardly a masterpiece and fails to fully move. One’s now and then reminded of Adam and the Ants (which may or may not be a good thing). If this was the beginning of Goth, one wonders what the fuss is all about. Perhaps one has to be a sensitive and alienated adolescent to fully get it.A flat 3 (i.e., no bullets).

Big step up from previous records, this is mature and interesting and (befitting the title) a little dream-like. “Under the Pressure” is great here but has been elevated to epic proportions live. “Suffering” is also great. The rest of the record sets a mood, contemplative and near trance-like at times, but driving at others. There’s an expansiveness to the songs and the playing that seems like a perfect balance of the auteur effect and jam band tendencies. Subsequent records are even better – further growth – but this is an easy, straight-up 4.

I was unduly suspicious, though admiring, back in the day. It all felt a little too much, both too obvious and too cheeky. My suspicion came from too many young women (albeit cool ones) liking them, a general preference for more artful Anglo angst (aka, The Smiths) and perhaps a reluctance to embrace such raw emotion (not a trend that’s necessarily gone well since). It’s pretty bright for being so dark and holds up pretty well; a lot of volume gets produced from the small-scale configuration, plus generally crisp playing and a solid differentiation of songs. The records beyond this got pretty shaky pretty quickly. But the 4 is merited.

Creative and interesting, arty and glam, but, like everything involving Lou Reed, there’s more than a little pretension involved. Plus, it’s a bit over-indexed on Weimar/Berlin Babylon cabaret songs (as well as being oversexed, generally). The record seems to do what it sets out to do, but it all feels very much like playacting, with LR being coy about how camp he wants to be and placing style over substance (maybe blame Bowie for that). This is maybe the best thing he ever did, but it doesn’t fully preclude my view that he’s a little too famous for being famous and rode the VU’s and Bowie’s coattails. 3.4 for 3.

Consistently interesting and engaging, thanks to the instrumentation and atmospherics. Very distinctive voice, sort of wearied and soulful at the same time. Strong drumming and cool guitar effects on “Rolling.” I love the tone on “Piano Joint,” “Hard to Say Goodbye” and “Final Days.” A masterpiece of mood and vibe and fully deserving of its many accolades. 4.4 for 4.

Moderately interesting and energizing, this record reads like an amalgam of the contemporary indie/alt scene – some math rock, chillwave and slowcore elements and the odd shoegazing moment all thrown in the mixer. The synths and keys threaten to overwhelm a few tracks, but combine intriguingly and to strong effect with the core on a few cuts. I’m not sure how this snuck by me in real time, and I plan to listen again, but I don’t imagine I’ll find any great initially unheard depths. 3.4 for 3.

Most influential band of all time, blah, blah, blah. There’s less to like here than on the other records, as much as one admires the experimental bent and iconoclasm, which doesn’t fully come off anyway. “Sister Ray” is as gritty as art/noise rock got, but just because it was among the first of its type doesn’t make it a masterpiece. Anyone annoyed by Reed’s talky vocal style will be sent over the edge by “Lady Godiva’s Operation.” The muddy, submerged production is a big part of the issue – one wonders what this lot would have achieved with modern technology, including sampling (Cale’s later work suggests what might have been). The record’s commercial performance suggests sometimes bands get what they deserve, while its critical reception shows the power of revisionist history. 2.5 for 2.

Sweet, steamy and groovy – what’s not to like? It’s as if Marv is going for spirituality, too, a Song of Solomon for the sexual revolution. 4.2 for 4

I'm afraid I have to be true to my early-30s self and honor this record, because I loved it then. It was sad (as I was by temperament) and serious (as I ever hoped to be) and at times beautiful (ditto). It really does hold up pretty well, sounding gorgeous, substantively stylish and professionally made. But, God have they been mostly awful ever since (the Styx of this generation, as J. Hoberman once put it). 3.5 for 4.

Big, blowsy and beautiful, this is state-of-the-art late ‘90s rock from a fully mature band. No real clear hit jumps out but it’s solid from top to bottom, with every track offering something of interest. The mini-solo guitar flourishes in nearly every song are grace notes amid very interesting instrumentation and production choices (strings, bells, synths, acoustic instruments, etc.). The mood and tempo stays in a comfortable middle range with both hard edges and mellower moments to up the drama. This just sounds great, and is well worth knowing (not to mention another listen). 3.7 / 4

Is fully what it is – which is mainly chaotic and screechy. I guess you had to be there. Might also help to know more about the jams they were aiming to kick out and how/why they were/are different than countless other politically outraged combos yowling their heads off in garages around middle America. Maybe just screechier and more chaotic? The big, slabby, psychedelic guitar riffs are decent; one half-expects them to break into “Wild Thing” at a few moments. Their oft-repeated “thank yous” at the end of every song are interesting; for outraged protesters, they seem awfully grateful and even mannerly toward the audience (not that that’s a bad thing). What this is not is musical or very listenable. Like, literally – it’s nearly impossible to hear what’s being shouted … er, sung. Also seems worth noting that a good bit of what's audible sounds like it might be about love and, you know, girls, not the military industrial complex, the pigs, racism, etc (though of course one can make out a bit of that stuff, too). Lastly, would Sun Ra consider this a tribute? Maybe including one (or more) of his records would help us know. 1.5 for 2 (and only because rounding up makes me feel slightly better about my lack of political commitment and because I’m sure the live shows were fun and as many got laid as achieved consciousness-raising).

Really holds up well. The songs are all mini-masterpieces and my amazement at its quality seems as fresh 40+ years on. The songs are interesting and accessible and the playing suggests the band is having fun and there are just enough barbs, bitterness and irony to elevate it above commercial pop. The pure New Yorkiness is great, too – think early years of SNL and Woody Allen and the Big Apple’s bankruptcy. We know “Only the Good Die Young” is a great rock n roll song because Catholic mothers all over the country were warning of its evils in the late ‘70s. Only dud for me is the snoozefest “She’s Only a Woman.” The reprising whistle ending is a nice touch to close out a fun and musically substantive ride. 4.5 for 5.

Love the jazziness, the flow, and the sheer all-over-the-place-ness of it. I lack historical perspective on and deep knowledge of the genre, but know full-on artistic commitment when I see (or hear) it and this is definitely that. Plus, lots of fun hooks and echoes – “we gonna be all right” indeed. Engaging and cool and a helluva lot of fun. 4.5 / 5.

Fun and one-of-a-kind. I wish it didn't sound so much like a novelty act. "Gigolo" is great, as is "Buona Sera" but I don't dig what he does to "Basin Street Blues" (which sounds just like "Gigolo" btw) and "Sleepytime" (which is meant to be soporific, editors, and certainly not to be hollered). Hard not to admire just how all-in he is here, and sure the band is tight and boisterous, but does it all have to be so jokey and schticky? Again, this is fun, but at best these are a few songs to know, not a record you must hear before dying (especially relative to the many, many other worthier jazz options not pictured here). 3.1 / 3.

Let’s start saying the obvious: Bruce is an all-time talent/genius whose average work (which this album feels like) is often well above the best output of other artists. And isn’t this a record we already know and is already too well known (and suffers from being so) and therefore needs no more knowing (or listening before death) and indeed might benefit from less knowledge? How would we feel about this record if it hadn’t been such a big hit. Tunnel of Love, for instance, would be more worth knowing (for being less well known and certainly less appreciated). There many good-to-very-good songs: “Bobby Jean,” “No Surrender,” “Downbound Train,” “I’m Going Down,” “Darlington County” are a clear notch down from Bruce’s best, though much better than mere filler and – again – much, much better than average outputs from lesser artists. Indeed, some of these songs would be the best work of other artists. So, this is largely down to how we feel about the “hits” (what charted, got radio play) and “the hit” (title track) in particular. “I’m on Fire” is a very good song, lovely and a touch haunting, but more accessible than mysterious (let’s be honest). Listening from the distance of years now (first time in near forever), I’ve noted the way the guitar sounds like “Every Breath You Take” which makes real sense, right, in the context of the reaching for commercial impact. “Cover Me” is basically replacement-level Boss, pretty good, pretty urgent, but non-transcendent. “Dancing in the Dark” is a good song, quite enjoyable, but in the broadest and most obvious way (the synth is vaguely AMSR, plus Courteney Cox [blah, blah, blah]). “Glory Days” I find obnoxious largely for 3 reasons: 1. the keyboard schmaltz (whatever) and 2. (more importantly) because it could/should have been much better. Imagine it as a dark ballad – solo acoustic, say – the bittersweet sentiments call for such. 3. The “speedball” for “fastball” mistake is borderline unforgivable, even allowing for the possibility that Bruce was attributing to the character in the song (though even he should have known better and I see no evidence of it being a druggie joke [by either Bruce or the song’s narrator]). Which brings us to the title track: “Born in the USA” is straight-up a great track. But the mass misinterpretation by huge numbers of listeners (many of them credulous, uninformed and uninterested in communities such as this one) begs the question of Bruce’s culpability. Could the anthemic-ness have been toned down to honor the darkness more directly? The song is dark, Bruce’s is ranting cri-de-couer-like, but rock fans (even his) want to, you know, rock, so here we are. It’s the dividing line of taste for entire generations and is so often the case the sheer numbers of my fellow Americans seem to be on a different side than the one on which I’ve landed. Has to be a 4 but a conflicted one, with multiple caveats.

Decent but iron-deficient. Minimalist to the point of approaching insubstantiality. Like a one-track tape of a Cure recording session. More dozy than dreamy. The biggest problem is that all the best hooks and grooves are cut off prematurely. There’s a likable modesty that avoids twee-ness (thank God) but never gets beyond or resolves the pleasant state of suspension it reaches on track after track. One wonders, for ex, how the undeniably (and inoffensively) groovy opener would sound like if left to fully expand and turn into, you know, a song. Similarly, “VCR” works as an homage to old tech, but the downside of that authenticity is that it risks sounding like an outdated video game (albeit one played by emo-tending lonelyhearts). Another ex: “Islands” raises the heart rate briefly and then, well, ends. The best hooks on the entire record – as on “Night Time” – need (and deserve) more space and time, too. The overall effect is awfully ‘80s – who else wants Bronson Pinchot or Griffin Dunne to star in a movie to which this is the soundtrack? The record merely interests, never impels. 3.1 (but only for pro-genre bias) / 3.

This is included ironically, right? Or just for time-capsule effect? Because this is about as banal as pop music can be. It ranks with sugar-free gum, shag carpet and curling irons as ‘70s cultural touchstones.

No album title in this collection more accurately reflects its contents. While Kylie’s presence offers a nice break from the mostly tedious vocals, this is mostly gloomy and turgid (but one should have expected that). 2.5 > 2

Eerie and dreamy and totally cool, but also static, almost posing. It could do with some tunefulness. It’s all moods, with little flow and next to no harmony. Trip-hop is not aging all that well; here, the over-reliance on the same little scratchy sound-effect speaks to a passing (now long past) moment of coolness; these songs are equally transitory, if still cool, which lands them somewhere between triviality and ephemerality. 3

There are high degrees of interest and variety throughout (e.g., chiming “Words, the highly distorted “N.Y,” dreamy and thoughtful “Sulphur Man”). Overall, it feels an update – and building on strengths of – classic Mancunian sounds. The sound (vocals in particular) start to wander, concerningly into Coldplay territory late on, without fully blossoming into full self-importance and pomposity. Straight-up likable and engaging and worthy of further listening.

So good, so deserving of broader awareness and appreciation and so damn fun. Tight playing and witty lyrics. “Let the Sad Times” and “Wham Bam” are faves. Thanks to Dwight Yoakam for keeping the torch alive.

So now that raves are done, shouldn’t we be one with such as this? The songs get to a place but no further, though these sound (very) slightly less dated that others in The P’s dreadful oeuvre. At best, this is a soundtrack for a movie I’m glad not to be watching or a video game I don’t want to play.

It’s easy to like an artist that saves the hit to the very end. “Constant Craving” is a great song, and the lead-up is languid, then charming, then stylish, then smooth – every track thoughtfully conceived (merging jazzy torch songs with country textures) and executed with verve and polish, the singing assured and accomplished, the playing distinctive and adroit. Well done, k.d.

Any record that opens with “Sympathy” has a huge headstart, but it builds from there; just the transition to “No Expectations” points to the mostly mellow and sometimes lovely journey ahead. “Parachute Woman,” “Jigsaw Puzzle” and “Factory Girl” are all underappreciated gems. The playing feels loose, almost tossed-off at times, but it’s actually quite crisp and controlled – what the Stones did best, not exactly making it look easy but looking cool and insouciant while doing it well (and sometimes wild). All that plus “Street Fighting Man,” the awesomeness of which is easy to forget somehow and a truly great closer (\"Salt of the Earth\"), a fitting and graceful crescendo. The straightforward approach and seemingly narrower ambition paid out an incredible yield – the best-ever Stones record (no mean feat, that). 4.8 / 5

Tense and dramatic, with some quite engaging ideas presented, but very little tunefulness or resolution. Too arty by half.

Clear muscular hip-hop. Shout-out to Kevin Loughery’s footwear is a personal highlight.

As unsubtle as LC’s voice is, the lovely and light-touch accompaniments make the record. Consider the quiet, pointed strings, barely audible aria-like vocals and picked flamenco riffs in the background of “Blue Raincoat.” The piano on “Sing Another Song” is more prominent, but plays the same role, both underpinning and elevating the emotional power, and enriches the quite engaging singalong. The lilting backing vocals on “Joan of Arc” (and another mini-singalong chorus).

Artful and elegant and evocative, has the feel of fully hand-crafted and intensely personal music. The combo of synths and strings is most impressive, really thoughtful textures with the observational lyrics and actorly delivery makes this feel quite a literary record – just a lovely summing up of what it means to be alive. “Automobile Noise” is a particular fave among uniformly strong tracks.

I mean, it's fine, but who cares? The brass and percussion are dead tight but I can't speak to why this is innovative or what makes it a must-hear. Appropriate for some settings, I suppose but not that many.

As good a reggae record as I've ever heard. The Tosh songs are faves among almost uniformly excellent tracks. Nothing not to like here.

Australia's “most original band”? Maybe. “Least talented” seems a safer bet. Can you tell this book by its cover? You can.

Didn't know this record on the whole, only a few of the hits, and so was skeptical of his reputation. Pop music distorts our perspective but going back years/decades later can redeem. It's really very good overall. The distinctive voice and delivery. Authentically psychedelic, with some madrigal vibes here and there, but much less cliched-seeming or caricature-like than many other records of this era sound today. Glad. to discover 50+ years on.

As with so many things Bowie, it’s overly affected and overdone. Ronson overplays and the shrill edge grates after just a few tracks. Major points off for the seriously misguided “Let’s Spend the Night Together” and the quite turgid “Jean Genie” the appeal of which has never been clear to me.

All the songs are great (or nearly so) and everybody who ever set out to do a break-up album (or poem or novel) can only dream of such success. Still it’s maybe not as interesting (for not being as sprawling or messy) as Tusk. I don’t really follow the song sequencing. The opener and closer both feel out of place – not the best way to start or end. Everything in between is aces, as one used to say, if a little too neatly packaged.

A most pleasant listen if slightly pretentious (just too earnest) at times (see last cut). Some lovely moments – the title cut/opener, and “For Emily” – and pretty authentic as a ‘60s artifact (both a weakness and a strength). One tries not to let anti-Simon feelings that have emerged in the years since (not just cultural appropriation but the sense of entitlement and just being insufferable as a person) cloud one’s objective judgment on this one.

This is a classic of tone and one can make a case it’s his best written album overall; it is to Born to Run as Nebraska is to Born in the USA.

Really good and unexpectedly substantive . The sax steals the show on several cuts and this one’s easily my fave version of “All Tomorrow’s Parties.”

Winsome, groovy and trippy (maybe to a fault with “Space Odyssey” and the uber-outre “Moog Raga” on the expanded version). Such a great brand that went from strength to strength during these years, despite turmoil. This album holds up excellently well and their influence shines through.

Not sure what to do with that title. I think I heard this record in late '90s but it didn't stick. Glad to hear again, though probably unlikely to stick, which means I can’t pack it as a desert-island disc.

Elegant and elegaic. A fitting swansong for a constantly evolving artist.

A clear bridge form punk to post-punk, one hears a lot of what was to come in the 1980s and ‘90s. The sneering vocals sound an awful lot like The Fall. The Smithereens stole “Memories Are Made of This” for “Blood and Roses.” and doesn’t “Orstralia” sound like “Sweet and Tender Hooligan.” 3.5 rounding up for being so influential.

I hated this much less than I expected to 40 years on for putting up with its popularity live and IRL. The engaging opener sets the tone. Still, it remains way too dancey-cheesy for my tastes. Of this ilk, give me the way cooler and much cheekier Blow Monkeys, more raffish Duran Duran and in all ways superior Style Council.

Just enough indie rock vibe and energy (“Regular John,” “If Only” “You Can’t Quit Me”) to keep this from being another tired and redundant hard-rock/metal-adjacent record (though “Walkin on the Sidewalk” and “The Bronze” get pretty close). Not my thing exactly and won’t listen again (might try Kyuss), but a few appreciable hooks save this from full-on forgettability.

Has not gotten better with age, though perhaps not significantly worse either. MJ really gives himself over to these songs, breathlessly so at times, but there’s far, far too much going on productionwise (heavy synths, overreaching guitar solos, the seven-layer vocals, the odd outer space sound effect). There’s a straining for maximum impact on many songs that don’t offer a ton. The musical equivalent of daytime TV, which was big back in the day, but not really worth watching – neither then nor now.

The Platonic Ideal of big doofy rock, early ‘70s edition – with all the self-indulgence and useless, feckless excess you’d expect from a live album. The vocals are overwrought, so many misbegotten arias (though our man Gillian seems distinctly underpowered and non-god-like on beginning of “Highway Star” and “The Mule” and quite shaky “Space Truckin’”). The solos (both keys and guitar) on opener gets us straightaway into Spinal Tap territory, as does the subject matter (boss hot rods and bitchin’ Camaros, one supposes). “Smoke on the Water” gets off to a false start and sounds offbeat, like they couldn’t get the hang of a hook they must have already played thousands of times. Might it be said they explored virtuosity in a hard rock context, thereby staking new ground that jam bands (including mellower, pacifistic sorts given to softer drugs and disinclined to put armadillos in their trousers) would later explore and colonize (often overstaying their welcome)? Sure, but whether that’s a feature or a bug depends on one’s tastes. This is decidedly not to mine, because the longer it goes on, the more tedious it gets, which, one assumes, was not the intent of this allegedly epic effort.

Very much the kind of thing you’ll like if you like this kind of thing. Excellently well executed with lots of high-level soloing and some huge, way-swinging hooks. Such well-integrated playing – orchestral and strong in the details, too. Highlights for me include “After Supper” and “Lil’ Darlin’.” Shouldn’t the Foo Fighters cover “Flight of the Foo Birds”?

The name of the record and the cover shot are ridiculous -- could not be more so. It's easy to see why this dinosaur disappeared from the earth not tool long after this.

A record in my sweet spot, a high water mark of my college radio prime. I still have the vinyl shared promotionally by the record co. Every cut works well on its terms, and the record is the antithesis of the one-hit-wonder in that sense, but it’s hard to believe they never made another album – sound like the perfect got to be the enemy of the good. The final track still amazes, pulling together the records many to build something new; the whole is very much more the sum of its parts, which might also be said of the record a whole.

Low key and lovely, maybe not my favorite Drake, but awfully good. “Saturday Sun” is a career highlight. “Time Has Told Me” and “Cello Song” are also great.

As good as this type of dance-plus music can be. It's a little angsty, as if we're dancing to forget and be free of the pain. The bass lines and epic and most of the synth hooks hold up. It gets a bit same-y toward the back.

A hip-hop album that seems to want to be an industrial or noise rock album. The bombastic rhymes are well matched by the bombastic samples and the “more is more” production choices, sound effects and beats. Its popularity is what it is, one supposes, but this fails to land for me.

Wild and loose but also beautifully layered. Bolan had a great voice and there's a sense of anything goes to the production – reaching for max impact and the big gesture, even in the acoustic songs. A big, messy, sprawling work of rock and roll art.

Sweet and soulful. Layered and lovely. Joyous and uplifting. “It Ain’t No Use” is great.

Mostly good unclean fun. The surfer-slacker vibe is not real credible given how much they wanted to be — and succeeded in becoming — big stars. Repetitive AF with nearly every song having the same gronky and crunching guitars and greasy licks.

Generic-sounding. Uses the same shaking effects and jittery beats that one hears everywhere. Vocals are fine, her voice is here and there lovely but nothing to get excited about here, but one allows for the possibility that, not knowing the genre, one may be missing considerable subtlety.

This isn’t the best he’s done, but I love what he does and this works well throughout.

Way better than other metal on this list, primarily because one can hear the playing, which isn’t to say it’s actually worth one’s time.

Challenging but still pleasurable. Ellingtonian in a good way, though darker and more discordant, and maybe outright sexier, too.

The hype to quality ratio is still too high but there’s much more to this than one remembered. The record is pretty fun and listenable, with some thoughtful songs that cool things out. Still, this is much a better record than one would have suspected. The covers are mostly dumb but the record isn’t nearly as naughty or silly as one might have suspected. The hype was of unsuitable “The-Beatles-Are-Coming!” pitch and the one mega hit plus one big one (“Two Tribes”) seeming like maybe it could last, which of course it didn’t any more than a minute.

Awfully ‘80s sounding for a hot, 21st century act from NYC. Way more disco-y and synth-y than I recall. The producer’s love for all things Duran isn’t too terribly concealed here. Is the fadeout synth revelry on “Dragon Queen” a sample of Tangerine Dream or just an outright ripoff? The latter, quieter half of the record is much preferred. Feels richer and less frantic/forced. Not terrible, certainly, but not deeply moving or elevating either.

Extremely polished and accomplished and benefitting greatly from expert production (which is a reminder of why at least one and probably multiple records from The National should be in here), this is the work of a maturing artist.

R.E.M. at their loosest, most confident and most fun. Great mix of tunes, “A Finest Worksong” is an awesome opener (banged live, too), “Exhuming McCarthy” a boisterous blast and “King of Birds” a beautiful toning down toward the end. I’ve never loved the hits as much as others, though “The One I Love” holds up as a lean, classic. I have a long history with the band so hard to stay objective, but this record still sounds bold and fresh and fun, and continued R.E.M.’s hot streak that lasted well over the decade, a run that holds its own against that of any other band, ever.

Raw and authentic as Janis always was, but more polished and tighter than other of her records (especially those with overly loud Big Brother). Lots of winners here, including "Bobby McGee," a classic among classics, and really no losers on either side. There's also a touch of sweetness to these blues that belies the early death.

Just not qualified to judge this but I enjoyed hearing it and I will listen again. I get the links to doo-wop and gospel, though I have no clue how innovative or subtle, etc. this might be. One is glad that world music, a mockable trend, did offer benefits such as introductions to bands such as this.

One can’t hate grooves this fat (pre-Phat) just because they’re disco. Much of this feels more like R&B (the languid pop of “Savoir Faire,” the R&B ballad [not quite slow jam] of “At Last I’m Free”) than the much reviled d-word genre. If you can’t dig this (and these bass lines in particular), your problem is much bigger than disco.

While the music is pretty dull and doofy, this is lyrical poetry of the highest order, no? She had the face of an angel Smiling with sin A body of Venus with arms Dealing with danger Stroking my skin Let the thunder and lightening start It wasn't the first It wasn't the last It wasn't that she didn't care She wanted it hard And wanted it fast She liked it done medium rare I mean, these guys must be scholars of the pre-Renaissance Italian troubadours of the 12th-century – the golden age of the sestina (which “Touch Too Much” clearly is, with only the slightest modernizing modifications) – to write such refined verse.

This is how English rock singers and indie rock bands were supposed to sound, circa 1992 – just the slightest sneering to the singing and the loosest . So call it state-of-the-art. This band is in one’s sweet spot, both temporally (i.e., era) and stylistically (i.e., a phile of Britpop in all its forms). But the operative question here is how well it holds up, and the answer is, very well.

Like so much of mid-’80s pop, the synths date this and it doesn’t hold up quite as well as one would’ve thought. A handful of great songs but a few too many throwaways.

Cool and moody, tough and tremulous, this is gold-standard indie rock of early 21st century, or any era, really. Awfully Big Apple for a non-New York record. “Good Fortune,” “The Mess We’re In” and “You Said Something” are all major tunes. “Horses in My Dreams” is haunting and austere and “We Float” about as hopeful as the uncompromising PJH does. Sounds both very much of its time and timeless.

Meh. Janis would get a lot better and not sure BB&THC were ever any good.

Metal is dumb.

There's no doubting that GM has a great voice and the sales figures are impressive but also tired by now, well past its sell-by date and pretty forgettable overall. “Kissing a Fool” is an all-time personal fave (how much more frequently one wishes these pop stars would go classic and/or cover traditional standards as it hihghlights [maybe flatters] their talent). "Hand to Mouth" is good, too, but much of the rest suffers from overpackaging and overexposure (which do go together, don't they?). Bright shining pop music so polished and sheeny that it's no wonder he wore shades. For all the shiny surface, the substance (if there was any) has long since died off.

Way overdone from top to bottom, with too much of everyhing (including her star power and ambitions). Simple pop songs, infectious dancey hooks are made to bear too much weight (primarily of Madonna’s artistic and cultural ambitions) – one hears a star wanting to be even bigger and brighter and the songs aren’t the right platform, lacking much more than glittery surfaces and studio tricks. The songs aren’t necessarily bad – ”Til Death Do Us Part” and “Promise to Try” have their appeal, but even “Cherish,” the best of the lot, ultimately fails to move one beyond the sense of “oh, that’s sorta pleasant.” The whole thing nets out as just okay, which hardly seems worth all the effort and expense. One gets the feeling all of the songs would’ve been improved by abridgement. It’s a truth not commonly enough acknowledged that pop songs such as these falter once they get past the 3-minute mark. … their sell-by date is three minutes. The claim that this is best pop record since Revolver is ridiculous.

Another mega-pop artist one struggles to get and/or is not much moved by.

Bleak and grim and utterly beautiful. It’s amazing that an artist would go this direction at such a point in his career and fully explore one dimension of his talent and creativity. “Atlantic City” and “Open All Night” are great, but “Mansion on the Hill” and “Highway Patrolman” are sublime. The last section lags a bit, which is the only thing keeping this as sub-5. And I’ve always wondered: who dances to “The Night of the Johnstown Flood”? 4.5

Raw and rocking. Moon's bashing is a highlight. One prefers their studio work, which favored their artfulness and melodies (and made Daltrey sound better) over the pimal energy on display here, which is considerable. This isn't to be underestimated and shows off their extensive range and how they predicted both mod and punk. Somehow, tis' easy to overlook how great they once were; perhaps they didn't fly quite as high as the Stones (though one could make the case) but then they've not quite as fully embarrased themselves (though getting quite close) with umpteen farewell tours.

Huge overrated and not nearly as powerful, poetic, passionate as it desperately wants to be. It works in moments, but not in any sustained way and it just sounds raw and exhibitionistic and overly emoted now. Who cares enough about "Gloria" to search for the irony or the deconstruction? Same as the imagistic dream of "Horses" morphing into "Land of a Thousand Dances." Its reputation seems vastly overblown all these years on.

Meh to middling. One likes the attempt to pare back a bit, to aim for intimacy and quietude, rather than oversinging as Frank was way too wont to do, but it just fails to move. One wishes editors found other jazz or samba records or others by Jobim rather than this obvious-seeming choice.

Overstuffed with too many ideas and just too much going on. Awfully fun, but ultimately the center does not hold.

What a waste of time and anger. There seems a distant chance Ian Mc has a sense of humor about this ... but it's distant. One pities all the people who had these t-shirts, as if the in-joke was worth knowing.

The sweet slow numbers are better than the debauched rockers. Bonus points for the iconic (for once that overused word is accurate) cover imagery.

Haunting and haunted. Hard to imagine a more intense process of turning grief into art.

Rawer and angrier than debut, but neither as affecting or effective overall. Undeniable intensity and points for originality on Dylan cover and artiness on "Man-Size Sextet" but otherwise more rancorous than memorable.

More monotonous than hard-core. Maybe because of all we've heard in the years since, this sounds like your basic funky metal (and not all that heavy either). And, hey editors, where exactly is the reggae?

Back in Black AC/DC 2.5 2 So much of this is hard to credit and/or take seriously, even if they had a notably tight and crisp sound for a hard rock band of this era. One confesses to have once liked this (as an adolescent, of course, but even then knew enough to keep it to myself and view this as a guilty pleasure). “You Shook Me” is all-time pure rock song. The rest is pretty flat and meh – some of it would be offensive if it weren’t so moronic (e.g., “Givin’ the Dog a Bone,” “Let Put My Love Into You”) “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” is a clear case of protesting too much. In the canons curated by teenage boys, this would rate much higher of course.

Original and excellent throughout. "Party Girl" and "Accidents Wil Happen" are career highlights but every track has considerable merit.

Music at its most mystical.

If the reputation is that the band barely talked to each other – that it was a bunch of solo songs and performances – then I suggest more bands take that approach. Some very good songs here ”– “Expecting to Fly” and “Broken Arrow” and “Everydays” and “Hung Upside Down." It wasn't hard to see how these guys would go on to do such great work.

Rockin and cool, some epic reach that still feels rootsy in grasp.

Awfully good to be so little known. Cope deserved more, though the tunes are quirky and they get a little synthy at times (curse of the '80s). Still, one hears easily how they were admired and imitated -- classic intense New Wave, with some dark humor thrown in.

A delightful crowd pleaser for all ages, this record threads the needle between the excesses of both glam and prog, primarily by focusing on great hooks, tunefulness and fun. Indeed, one traces a likable lack of embarrassment about making music to be enjoyed. Jeff Lynne does it all – compose, orchestrate, sing and entertain. A few top-class songs ("Turn to Stone" and "Sweet Talkin' Woman" and "Mr Blue Sky" [basically light opera]) plus lots more fun ("Birmingham Blues") and a few credibly poignant moments ("Steppin' Out" and "Big Wheels"). One believes ELO is unnderrated given that they are accessible and (at least somewhat) derivative of the Beatles and didn't act like tortured artists. But one counts 8-10 first-rate and near-canonical songs in their library that hold up well 40 years on, which can only be rated a triumph (even after discounting for the work on Xanadu and with the Traveling Wilburys). 4.3/4

Great raw and psych-y blues, vintage-sounding but layered and enriched to modern standards. Last few cuts are excellent and deliver more via less banging than earlier cuts.

Every jazz record in this collection seems to scream for more jazz records in this collection. Maybe Sassy oversings (or overemotes) onm a few songs but my is the voice a powerful thing of beauty.

Fun to hear and hard not to like, but sorta basic and casual-seeming.

Just classic and vintage. The playing is so good and the odd time signatures (which have been overemphasized) simply don't get in the way of anyone's pleasure.

Utterly unparalleled in quality, coherence, depth and range of emotion, plus epic singalongs, (personal) protest anthems twinkling tunes and tender – even heart-breaking – ballads. Not only are there no filler cuts, there’s nary a wasted note and Dylan’s voice has never been stronger nor clearer, and never more assured in delivery. One of the best records of all-time …. Easily top 5.

Eerie and likably weird. One likes the understatement and minimalistic, almost downbeat feel of this.

What vibes and what solos. Still packs a punch. Only knock is that "Watchtower" feels a bit out of place here, as great as it is.

Like bubble gum, the flavor wears out soon and one is left feeling a bit sticky. Still, what we sensed on first listens in 6th and 7th grade – the newness and power and freshness; the screaming shininess – is not entirely lost on us even now, all these productive and cynical years later.

Isleys are seriously under-appreciated, both as hitmakers and players. There's some great playing here and rich interpretations on the covers.

It grooves and it swings and the first few cuts have a slightly exotic feel, but then vibes its way into a sorta generic ‘60s energy. Glad to know it (if only for the epic “Revelation”) but one won’t be playing it at one's funeral.

Mature and balanced, a very good record and by aiming for more understatement than in previous efforts, Morissey wins bigger. The controlled melancholy works beautifully. This is how pop stars can/should age gracefully.

So much more than the title track and "Vincent." Didn't know what to make of the record in high school and college; now it makes much more sense as substantive (and earnest) easy listening. One gets why DM's half-conceived as a one-hit wonder and got imprisoned by title cut, which can be hard to take seriously, but still entertains and reads like just about the best of heartfelt creative-writing-seminar, collage-y cultural history cum criticism (Dylan without the obscurity, say).

Tuneful and melodic from the first to the last not, with great hooks and several absolute classics of the genre (starting with "Birdland"). Has aged extremely well (one woudln't have guessed), but masterful playing is timeless, innit? An outright pleasure to hear (on one's deathbed or any time) to be reacquainted with.

Ready to Die The Notorious B.I.G. 3.7 4 Not entirely one's joint, but one likes the mix of East Coast attitude with West Coast vibes and the uniqueness of the voice, as well as the leanness and tightness of the overall mid-tempo mood. One can speak to the authenticity or the credibility of the tales of hustling and sexcapades.

Sign me up for no guitar solos and a simple approach that actually proved quite influential. Still, the record sounds utterly simplistic and almost like a novelty act. Might they be the exact midpoint between The Monkees and Sonic Youth?

Sure, it's direct and clean, but also sounds a bit light and tinny, doesn't it? Maybe even tame. Rodgers' voice frays noticeably on "Rock Steady," undercutting the promise of the title. Takeaway: people in the '70s would buy anything sold to them, musically. This feels like testament to the dodgy taste of mid-'70s rock and roll simpletons, of which there were clearly many. "Don't Let Me Down" is homogeniety itself -- beat and rhythms, solo and vocals (but no doubt would sound great if one were waving a lighter about in one of that benighted era's acoustically unsound arenas) and not even close to John Lennon's tune (of which this seems a half-cover). "Movin On" is okay but far from compensates from many other faults (the unconvincing faux drama of the title cut –– "ooh, we're shaking in our boots, you're so bad!" –– and the silly paean to "Seagull").

A few engaging and immersive tracks but just too synthetic and disco-y to attain anything like timelessness. Editor review seems appropriately unsure on the same point, which makes this record, as enjoyable as it is, an obvious candidate for being dropped.

It all sounds so familiar – the chiming and jangly guitars, the countrified frills, the dreamy lyrics, the tension between mellowness and a druggy sort of edginess – that it’s hard to remember how new it must have sounded in the mid-60s. It sounds so much less dated than much else from this era. One likes their take on “Rider,” an often dull and flavorless ‘60s chestnut.

A masterpiece – maybe THE – masterpiece of indie rock. Certainly the Smiths best record, which is no small feat.

Somehow not as good or fresh or original-seeming as it once was, without being in any way bad.

Cool and pleasant. Alternatively meditative and (lightly) energizing. Best songs: “ISI,” “Seeland” “Leb Wohl” and “E-Musik." More satisfying than Kraftwerk, but not without clunkers, such as "Hero," the grating vocals of which breaks the proto spa-chill effect.

Roils and moils. Some great licks and cuts on first half, second half darker and more exploratory. One likes both halves, while recognizing the merits of the target criticisms (i.e., too-cool-for-school, prententious-in-its-artiness/avant-garding).

Ranging from dark and soaring epics to the sweet and tuneful tite cut and it’s all about ambiences and textures throughout. Seemed one-of-a-kind when it came out and fascinated everyone, putting Cool Icelandia back on the map. The scale and dreaminess hold up pretty well.

Timelessly excellent funk and samba. All 70s music should have been this rich and compelling. Sounds contemporary still.

Ahead of its time re collaging and world music? Sure. Interesting? Not so much. This suffers from the science experiement effect and a massive lack of lyricism and musicality.

Just when you thought metal could go no lower, along comes to Linkin Park to add the most annoying elements of several other genres (especially emo) to drill deeper still. The combination of sheer awfulness with utter pomposity is potently toxic to the ears of anyone with any taste at all. How it sold 32 copies, let alone 32 million, boggles the mind, but that's popular taste, innit. See The Onion's Winner's History of Rock and Roll for the imbalance.

A bit too raw and confessional. One much prefers Summer Lawns, which is of more interest musically and less painfully vulnerable.

Hard to say where homage and admiration bleed into appropriation but one's always had a soft spot for this record, despite being Simon-bearish generally (for reasons of being overrated and difficult to work with). "Diamonds" is one of the best tracks of the decade, transcending the shiny-tinkling '80s production vibes. Quite a few other very solid tracks make for a thoughtful and mature record overall.

A religious experience for jazz fans, but for others probably not so much. It's elevating and otherwordly, but other more accessible Coltrane albums (My Favorite Things, Giant Steps [not Boo Radleys for Chrssakes!], Blue Trane, Soultrane, Ballads) are just as worthy of inclusion, through for different reasons.

Cold and charmless, sterile rather than sophistcated, records like this gave New Wave a bad name.

So many other 'Mats records could/should be in this list but this is completely worthy candidate. A sometimes great, sometimes indifferent band that is perhaps the essential '80s indie rock band – “Unsatisfied” and, “I Will Dare” “Androgynous,” “Seen Your Video” “Sixteen Blue” and “Answering Machine” all very strong, too.

Original and different. More folk than prog, and slightly underrated (though for a reason). Anderson is a good singer and is easily a top 5 all-time rock and roll flutist.

Pretty cool it was chart-topper. No doubt the controversy helped sales and Cube was afraid to dial up the posturing, though whether or not it was authentic or legit one isn’t qualified to judge. Worse was made of all the riotous energy of post-riot, post-Rodney King, LA than this record. “Good Day” and “Check Yo Self” are the highlights.

A very cool mid-80s sound coming in a few years early. Intersesting and edgy, without feeling quite like a major hallmark. Still bonus points based on all the goodness to come, best signalled by the steel drums rather subtly slotted into the opener.

Truly one of a kind, Monk's compositions are both off-kilter and highly enjoyable. The top-notch players around him make this record, which is only one of several of his that could/should have been included.

Decent, middle of the road tunes, well executed, but lacking in much that’s exquisite or particularly memorable. The whole thing is fine, just fine.

Probably as good as prog rock can be, with lots of rich textures and interesting vibes, and Anderson's memorable vocals, But then there is just enough of the worst of progr, too – frequent and jarring shifts in mood and tempo. Roundabout” a great opener followed by the absurd (not in a good way) “Cans and Brahms." Similarly, "Heart of the Sunrise" is compromised by arty effects and excess sophistication. "Long Distance Runaround" is among the best Yes ever did. One is surprised – and not a little embarrassed – to have any affection for this band. Really, one should loathe them, but there are hooks and melodies enough to overlook the prog guilt-by-association effect.

Catchy and memorable, this is an inspired piece of pop music combined with insightful social observation.

Not bad and certainly bouncy, but It’s possible the artists are having more fun than most listeners will. Does it sound dated? Indeed it does.

One is not fully educated on Afrobeat but straight-up musically, what's not to like? Driving beats, sweet rhythms and grooves, pure energy and passion – and such large portions. If you don't like a solo, just wait a beat and more are on the way. One is glad to have heard, plans to hear more.

So many strong songs how how Radiohead was the best rock band before coming the best band, period. Three classics  – "High and Dry," "Fake Plastic Trees" and "Black Star" – plus several other plus-plus tunes. There's a case to be made that this is their best album, but the case is obviously complicated by how many other great ones there are. Only legit beef is that first side is better than last.

Oversexed lyrically and overwrought vocally, if musically interesting in a basic, groovy kinda way. We’ve surely reached peak TB, and one thinks the cult can only – definitely should – get smaller.

It’s a little punky, a bit grindy and sort of rock revivalist, but for all those reasons, it’s lost a little bite and energy.

If you know, you know.

One gets a pre-James Brown vibe. One gets the feeling that this is pure music, deeply primal and truly rhythmic. One admires more than loves it.

Pretty cool, with likable vibes and some lovely moments that float free of pop music strictures, but a bit on the synthetic and over-determined side. Quite a few good songs but goes on a bit too long. The voice is distinct and she's got talent and ideas to burn, but one can't help thinking that the critical reputation is a touch higher than merited by the actual output. It's interesting, yes, but feels inorganically so, as if that was the only objective (there are worse sins). Bjork's got just maybe a bit more than her due down the years.

The future certainly doesn't sound like it used to sound. It's worked out to be more interesting than JMJ seemed to think it would be.

The essence of excess. Things weren't going to go any better later.

Some seriously atmospheric voodoo jive here, plenty dark and vaguely haunting. The call-response and groovy, hushed drumming on “Walk on Gilded Splinters” is the highlight. Vintage and authentic.

Big – maybe a bit too big at time, in the trying-too-hard sense – but the voice is a powerhouse and there's an early feel after just a few cuts of an unimpeachable (playing solid, production top-notch), instant classic. But listening onward, the vocals are overcooked, the drama forced. This is music for the masses, particularly that huge segment that cries at mediocre, made-for-TV* dramas. *Now made-for-streaming platforms

So sharp, so good. "Common People" and "Disco 2000" and "Something Changed" are droll and excellent in their own way. "Pencil Skirt" and "Underwear" are also delightful. One misses the golden age of such listenable fin de siecle snark.

Feels a little tired but then ends quite pleasantly hazy. A spiffed and modernized Stones sound, a kinder-gentler Oasis. All-around groovy and the mellower the better. The band seems to have been quite opportunistic in blending clubby-ravey tropes with an indie rock heart. Doesn’t seem like it should work as well as it does. Last few cuts best.

One hears plenty of the "old weird America" – consider the haunting sweetness of "I'm Counting on You" and the straight-up eerienees of "Blue Moon." The simplicity – even purity – of the playing is very attractive and one wonders if contemporary acts wouldn't benefit from adopting such a direct approach. Sure, it can seem corny, but it feels almost punk consideiring the schmaltzy, sequined endpoint to come. In other words, one gets why Elivs was Elvis. Points off for "Tutti Frutti."

Utterly antiseptic and more synthetic than sincere.. Will age about as well as cubic zirconia, though one suspects some stylish people in stylish capitals found this a stylish auditory accessory for at least a season. (Note: from the review linked on the official site: “Many will argue that 2-Step/UK Garage is a shallow, one-dimensional genre that will fade like overchewed gum. However, albums like “Sincere” go to prove that UK Garage is more than a fad.” Editors seemed to go with “fad” [one thinks “shallow and one-dimensional” to be more on point descriptively] as it’s been pulled from the official list and is now “ex.”)

Fine – perfectly fine – for what it is, but also basic and slight and just endlessly straightforward. Notes all fall into place, not one of them is risky. Plus, a "Good Golly Miss Molly" cover? I mean, why? It's okay not to be psychedelic or hippies (which they don't actually sound that different from); it's good to be competent and crisp, sure, but isn't it reasonable to expect some imagination, for Chrissakes.

Like a lot of his records, it starts out playful and upbeat, and then drifts into contemplativeness and melancholy, with a few tracks seeming to aim for outright inertia or dead air. The latter half is more effective. "Here He Comes" is one's fave and decent enough but as a whole this falls short, largely because it seems a tale of two sides, neither of which excel. The new-wave/indie rock feel, however Talking Heads-esque, is unconvincing (no singer Eno) and there was much better ambient to come. Thus, the effect is more experimental than effective. Still, it's Eno so 3 stars minimum.

One remembers wanting to be as funky as "Ma and Pa" and "Bonin' in the Boneyard" and "Ghetto Soundwave." Alas, one was not, not really, in one's heart of heart. The horns are a major plus here. While the overly thumpifying bass and fly, bouncy ska-punk mash-ups worked only briefly, and only on a few cuts and gave rise to much that was meh and much that was outright annoying. If there was room for only one superstar band from this genre and time, one wishes it were Fishbone and not the RHCPs who became increasingly insufferable over the years and ultimately, absolutely execrable.

A minor miracle of pop music, absolutely cool and substantive and rich. There are a few all-time cuts and not a single dog. "Light My Fire" is a top-10 essential rock-and-roll song, transcending time and genre, a perfect balance of hook and ambition and seriousness. It truly makes one listen. Amazingly, this has not been made worse by its popularity or hipster affectations or the presence of the utterly insufferable Manzarek or the fact that one over-loved it as a kid (by which one means took it too seriously). It's not even diminished by the fact that "20th-Century Fox" reminds one of one's ex-wife. The playing is great throughout. A true landmark and milestone which feels almost forgotten today.

Yes, it’s not a bunch of three-minute pop songs, but no it’s not classical music either (nor a classical rock fusion). In fact, it’s really not that weird or challenging at all. Which might be another way of saying times have caught up to King Crimson. “21st-century Schizoid Man” is accessible, not that arty and pretty dumb overall. “I Talk to the Wind” and “Epitaph” are a lot more interesting, but not so way out there besides their length. “Moonchild” seems more indulgent than innovative. Title cut is pretty pretentious but still worth hearing; the reaching for heaviness feels earnest, in other words. Just not that different for such a cult-y and allegedly obscure classic. The cover art feels like heavy metal, or maybe prog rock’s breakthrough gestures have just become the norm. Still, extra points for originality (even when it wasn't in the band's best interest) and influence (not all of which was propitious).

One is post-structuralist (perhaps even anti-structuralist) in other art forms, but in music generally and electronica in particular one finds formlessness much more bug than feature. Even allowing for objective to create an authentic soundscape, the spoken-word segments are more annoying than enlightening. The vibes are okay but, like many mediocre offerings in this segment, it all feels pointless, all premise and no resolution, as if something missing, which it is, of course, because this is a soundtrack. In fact, what this most sounds like is a resume for someone seeking production or soundtrack work, which it seems to have worked out to be.

Such lovely, lively lo-fi. GBV keeps excellent company, too; that the streamers go from last cut of the record to an excellent cut from Yo La Tengo (a most egregious exclusion from this esteemed index) tells you what you need to know. Their brand new record (fall 2022) suggests how close RP has stayed to the vision, though perhaps not always to the optimal effect.

Hooky but trite and overrated. “Enjoy the Silence” and “Policy of Truth” are not bad, but there's a silliness factor that one struggles to look past – just hard to take them seriously, despite (or because of) their becoming unaccountably huge. "Personal Jesus" is as annoying as an earworm can be.

A delight from top to bottom.

Decent and authentic-seeming, though perhaps too overt in its desire to be a rock record and also a bit all over the place. One much prefers “Are You Gonna Go My Way.”

Such richness of soul, groove and funkiness that so much of contemporary pop music is put to shame. And yes I suppose I mean "Western" or non-African anyway. This would be a genre worth learning more about.

Better than one remembers. The synths on "Jump" and "I'll Wait," which felt selly-outy then are nice leavening to the drive of the usual VH attack, while "Panama" and "Hot for Teacher" prevent it from becoming too full-on a kinder, gentler Van Halen. One finds this more than marginally less clownish than their other records. Mabye not fully mature but at least maturing. Given one's past loathing of this band (and their fans) one is surprised how much one enjoyed.

Such richness of soul, groove and funkiness that so much of contemporary pop music is put to shame.

Works well enough in the gym and, one supposes, at the club, though you'd really have to ask the kids. Besides the pure energy aspect, this, like most dance music, gets repetitive to the point of tedium awfully quickly and, thus, falls well short of one's minimal requirements for worthwhile listening. Perhaps there's craft one might notice if one knew more about the subtleties of the genre, but any sense of artistic merit is nowhere to be found and further study seems a non-productive exercise given that one's time is finite and one is, as the book title reminds us, going to die some day, which will certainly come to pass before one hears this record again (at least intentionally).

Rock operas and other mega-ambitious pop music projects often fail for reasons having to do with basic incoherence but Townsend knew what he was doing and built this to work narratively and musically. The silliness and creativity of The Who Sell Out is put to better and more focused effect. It's sort of mid-tempo throughout (as if to keep things under control) and some songs are too quickly done, but generally everything works on its own terms, which aren't necessarily transcendent, though there are moments – "Christmas" is the highlight, but "Overture" and "It's a Boy" and "Acid Queen" and "Tommy Can You Hear Me?" are all strong and almost moving. One admires the concept and, for the most part, the execution. It is quite strong which is impressive enough, considering just how much worse it could’ve – and probably should’ve – been.

A direct, gritty and highly mature record, B&C has held up extremely well, perhaps because it seems less overtly angry (more resigned) and the sarcasm more understated than the previous records. Still there's plenty of vinegar, this being EC. The no-produciont-is-the-best-production vibe is great, especially for this era and gives a very warm sound. On the downside it's also slightly less fun and tuneful. Best cuts are "Home is Where ...," the vintage "Hope You're Happy Now," "Blue Chair" and the rousing closer "Next Time Round." And one's always had a soft spot for the powerfully unenjoyable "I Want You." The depth and substance are powerful throughout and sustain interest across a full listen. A strong outing from top to bottom, with remarkable consistency across every cut, and quite underrated in the end, it must be said.

One likes a madrigal, especially when they're dressed up with sitars and glockenspiels.

Yet another Bowie record. The style suits Pop, Lou-Reed-esque inclinations, and one can hear lots of the goth and industrial to come, but these aren't necessarily benefits, and one wonders why this record is even attributed to Pop. And certainly this doesn't sound like a record to quit drugs by. "Nightclubbing" is a plus track and this version of "China Girl" was certainly to be excelled. But beyond a few other interesting textures, there's not that much here. Which leads one to believe this seems like a plot to get yet another Bowie record in this list when there are already far too many.

Wonderful record all the way around – unhurried, mellow, contemplative – exactly like a great road trip (surely just a coincidence). The guitar playing is excellent – who knew Joni had such axe chops but Jaco's name should be on the masthead, too. Speaking personally, this feels like peak Joni: "We got high on travel / And we got drunk on alcohol / And on love, the strongest poison and medicine of all." First two cuts are most engaging and the last a beautiful closer.

In its favor are the relatively clean production, the obvious politics, some broad hot licks and a band name/album title that is ultimate in truth in advertising. On the downside is the adolescent rage, the sameyness, and the length – my god, is this too long. Generic, white suburban rage is all fine and perfectly acceptable in its place but really should avoid going on too long – an analogy to outgrowing one’s youthful idealism. This record could’ve conserved energy and increased its impact by being 33-50% briefer. Beyond a few glimmers of impressive playing, it’s not really necessary to hear this before death unless one plans to die very young – and before developing more refined tastes.

A record of the highest quality, with not a bad or uninteresting song in the bunch. This is an easy inclusion in the list and it makes no sense that it's been dropped. The National merits at least three other records; they were the best rock band in the world for a good long run of years, offering a higher-class product -- smarter, more stylish, and thoughtful and interesting -- as people of taste know. Editors reveal themselves to fall quite short of that standard by overlooking the National.

Not one's thing to be honest, but this is a far sight better than quite a few other punk records here, thanks to the cool attitiude, hookiness and brevity of most of these cuts. One thinks it's okay to prefer REM's version of "Strange." That cut triggers the best run of the album – "Fragile" and "Mannequin" are especially good.

Just oozes authenticity. This is perhaps a bit less raggedly confessional or emotionally raw as some of her other records, which might cost a bit of power, but it also avoids the risk of sloppy sentimentality (which has been a bit of a occupational hazard for Lu) and gives a sense of control and mastery of every song. This is musicmaking at a very high level, well conceived, extremely well executed, and not overdone or showy. Every song works, and the first five are uniformly strong. The songwriting is terrific, the playing expertly professional. She's a true artist it's hard to believe there's only one of her records on this esteemed list.

Every time one listens to TJ&MC, one wonders why one doesn't do so more often. The balance of sweetness and sonic fuzz makes for a deceptive softness – yes, dark and soft and sweet is quite an apt description of this record. There's a likably consistent mood and tone across the whole thing that easily transcends any sense of sameness.

It's hard to believe how many hits this record spawned given her grating voice and the ultra-cheesy '80s synths. Good for her personal triumphs and all that, but this is more a souvenir of a time, here and there pleasant to hear (the melodies on "Time After Time" and "All Through the Night" and the ska-y guitars on "Witness") but not anything like timeless musical.

Old-school in the best way. There's a directness and seriousness that sets PE apart ... the black CNN indeed – see "NY Post" and "Arizona" which are the top cuts within a very cohesive and fully engaging whole.

Relentlessly clever and wholly original. Simple, to the point of basic beats and effects and very talky rapping seem like they should not work but somehow they do – largely because they suit the mock-heroic, quotidian epic of the rhymes (has a rap record ever so glamorized or got more from watching [or repairing a] television?). There's a humor and even a sweetness that not many other rappers could deliver.

Just awful.

Perhaps the best hard rock record ever made, with so many hooks, so many great melodies and powerful moments.

A delightful listen. The substance, craft and attention to detail make it hard to believe that it's a debut.

So much richness of soul in this, which can feel like a lost chapter of the '60s. The production feels a bit rough and muddy, it's music to take seriously, even as one is enjoying it pretty deeply.

Delightful listening. Though one can't speak to this record's place in any historical context relative to Brazilian music, it is undoubtedly fun and lovely and relaxing and caipirinha-friendly.

If one could only hear on a dusty Western road with hours to go on a long drive. A classic of Americana, with professional playing, crisp production and pretty great storytelling, Hemingwaysesque at times. A lot of hearbreak, blood and death for such straightforward singing.

Pure and haunting and true, no matter if musical hipsters are making the music. Sometimes the homage is better than the original.

It asks a bit of the listener, doesn't it? Certainly, it's not their best record, but deeply interesting throughout, if lacking in the killer or truly first-rank track. Opening of record sets the tone, for a band clearly in transition and very much in the mood to experiment.

One must not be in the target demographic. It's all very, well, melodramatic, though one can't say he wasn't warned. Only by grading on the curve would this rise to the level of mediocrity.

Likable and fun and different. Baroquely layered and danceable (if one's into that sort of thing).

Classic and full-on Stonesy - it's the non-hits that drive the quality, really – though it's not their absolute peak. One feels the need to shower after hearing "Can You Hear Me Knockin'".

Direct and templated bluesy psychedelic rock from the '60s of which there is much too much on this list. Nothing distinguished here – not the vocals and the jamming is replacement level for the era. Maybe was influential the, but today is merely not bad and sorta boring.

Stunning and exquisite. Not just the production and playing (obvs), but also the sense of languor and the extremely underrated lyrics (which people seem to both overthink and underaopreciate). The hits are top-notch – "Peg" is an all-time top-five groove, inclusive of any and all pop music genres and "Deacon Blues" is a Cheever story that just happened to get near the top of the charts. The opener, title cut and "Home at Last" are all extraordinary. Sure, it's dad rock and yacht rock -- for dads and yacht owners who possess taste and intelligence and a mature musical palate. People who don't find this interesting simply cannot themselves possibly be interesting. They certainly lack taste and probably fear jazz. One recalls loving it upon a first full listen as a teenager and the record only gets better with each passing decade; in other words, the more music one hears, the better Aja gets, a sure sign of quality.

It's often called "sweet" soul music for a reason, as this recording makes abundantly clear. What SC says from the stage is not to be fully trusted as the tempo differences between the fast ones and the slow ones are simply not that great. He's fully committed, but smoother and more genteel than say James Brown. There's an innocence and ebullience that's easy to like and infectious (cue the crowd noise); this is the stuff of which Saturday nights were made for a generation of Americans that largely got us started on this musical journey.

Thought this would just be early '90s silliness but the vibe is very chill and cool, indeed. The "Girlfriend" Prince cover is a winner and "Waterfalls" barely cracks the top 5 on this record. Has held up well, for the most part, though a few jokes try to hard and don't land, for which an R&B record nearly three decades old can be forgiven.

Classic from the first note, with epoch-defining opening and closing cuts, and multiple other gems along the way. Leaving aside notions of cultural appropriation, this is Stones at their most credibly bluesy; they believe in what they're doing and doing it with great effectiveness and, in some places, legit pathos. Excellent throughout.

Credibly rough and tough, but feels filled with directionless, no-longer-applicable rage and not much hookiness (not to mention tunefulness or melody or virtuosity) to keep us interested. One posits that "Rock Star" would've been a better song had she leaned into the "Olympia-uh-uh-uh" motif rather than regurgitating another screamalong of which the album already has a preponderance. The next record was better. More fodder for the theory that that history will not be kind to the '90s as a musical decade.

There's an ebullience and willingess to throw everything behind the idea of funking freely that's a mark of genius. And plenty of quality matieral here – title cut, of course, but also “Dorothy Parker” and “Starfish and Coffee” and “If I Was Your Girlfriend” (which shows how less is more in terms of layering instruments and sounds) “Never Take the Place of You” (with pure ‘80s synth feel) and “Adore.” But there's also general sense of excess and indulgence that suggest the vision might've been better served with a bit of trimming and some general restraint (not the Purple One's groove, one knows). There are blind spots, too, an overrliance on those whooping little screams, for instance, on maximalist arrangements and on drum machines that have not helped up too durably and threaten the sub-top-shelf tunes, of which there's a surfeit here. The planned triple album would not have much helped. Put another way: there's a lot to like here mainly because there's a lot.

Fine and sweet and on doubting the lullaby appeals of title cut and "F&R" but oh so soft, like to the point of deteriorating. Bing Crosby would have been a more convincing bluesman. "Suite for 20 G" feels similarly out of place, with the add-on horns and electricity. Fine balladeer though he was, JT definiitively did not rock and could not wail and sounded silly trying to.

Generally likable but not very memorable, and nothing like life-changing. Fun but normie, and a bit tiresome, too, as it's not nearly as clever as it thinks it is. In the end, not much better than just okay.

Not terrible but not as shocking or operatic as it clearly aimed to be. Triple points off for inspiring the likes of Reznor, Manson, etc. Today sounds like generic, replacement-level '70s arena rock, and pretty meh besides, which must seem the ultimate in faint condemnation to the involved perpetrators here. Maybe the guillotines and electric chairs and other stage theatrics were necessary to achieve full impact but then that completely undercuts the case for the lasting importance of the music. One doesn't think that nobody caring anymore can be put down to everyone's just being jaded nowadays. The editors' comparisons to Waters and Townsend are as perhaps the most ludicrous aspect of this listening experience, and certainly as shocking (and stupid) as Cooper having himself drawn and quartered onstage.

This is better than it seems it should be. First two cuts are both top-class, and hold up well. "Second-Hand Woman" is an embarrassment really, as much for the troglodytic content as for the hideously '80s hook and the thin disco beat. "Slowdown Sundown" and "Spanish Dancer" right the ship, but only briefly, until the Jan-Hammerian "Night Train," another time-traveler that feels ready to explode when contacting 21st-century air. Considering how one's never liked Winwood's way-back-in-the-throat voice, one's surprised to find this of substantial quality ... the pluses meaningfully outweigh the Ultimate '80s embarrassments.

The first major advancement of one of the pre-eminent (but most sneakily) innovative bands around. Things would get even better but the excellence on display here is unquestionable.

Tedious and awful. Ice Cube mixes things up a bit but this is nu metal at its most noxious.

A fun and funky blend of styles.

One-hit wonder for a reason and he should be grateful about that. Manifests every cliche of singer-songwriters and not in a good way.

Too clever to sell, wasn't it? But still a delight to hear and engage with. There's maybe a cottagecore or cozy mystery effect here that belies the more modest (if more biting) ambitions relative to their peers in this era. The Kinks are among one's personal national musical monuments / treasures. "Waterloo Sunset" is priceless.

As good as chill can be and ever got.

Sharp and lean but seems maybe slightly too impressed with itself. One finds their street claims about pistol-whipping, etc. to be non-credible, really, and the Chinese restaurant skit isn't exactly the height of with social consciousness now is it? There are sweet moments – "Killing Me Softly," "No Woman, No Cry" and "Fu-gee-La" but overall it's never quite one's bag, but one doesn't begrudge the massive commercial success; far less records have sold more.

Utterly charming and winsome, and novelistically rich in emotional and intellectual content. It's easy to mock this band as the height of Millennial tweeness or cottagecore, but one finds it hard not to like and admire the work, given its orginality and the band's ability to do so well what they so clearly set out to do.

Has any record more frequently featured the expression "Do it" more often or had a singer use it more with more conviction, despite the repetition? Likely not though the necessary research to confirm won't be done for reasons of time consumption. Echo are a better band than one remembers, and there are many winning moments on this and a credible arty vibe and solid vocals and guitar work throughout. Not exactly a high-water mark of or post-punk or early alt or New Wave or whatever it's supposed to be called by this time. One doesn't think it sounds as dark today as it likely did then (and not early Cure dark anyway, which was a lot dronier); no these cats were hookier and quirkier, too, which adds up to lighter. Maybe doesn't quite deserve a 4 (and they don't really deserve three records in this list though one's enjoyed listening to the others [as one does in navigating the esteemed compendium] but it gets one anyway because of it's of one's vintage (slightly ahead, actually).

Strong contender for best album of all time. It is endlessly engaging, interesting and entertaining – and wildly so on all fronts. The full-on experimentation, the boldness and willingness to try on a lark, the offbeat McCartney and Lennon never better, each contributing both masterpieces and several priceless (and underrated) gems. George and Ringo at their best, too. If a mishmash, then a marvelous one. More like a transcendent embarrassment of riches.

What a talent. “Come Pick Me Up” and “To Be Young" are utter classics. My objectivity is tainted by a recent solo show one attended where he was utterly tedious and requested bars closed so he had dead quiet. One supports his sobriety and considers oneself a major fan but that's too much to ask. The world's top string quartets don't do that.

Dark, brooding and, at times, haunted. One loves the weighty-seeming introspection, like a cold grey day on the beach. There's a resigned acceptance to the tone that sounds like it was freeing in some songs and quite edgy on others. This sense of culmination, and of the need to move on, paid off very nicely for the listener. 4

One recalls feeling frustrated with E&tB in ral time that they only rarely went all in and many songs sounded half-baked or only half-committed to. Today, that seems very much a design feature, rather than an executional shortcoming. This record shows a band stretching its wings a bit and taking its time – either because they had the confidence to do so or because it was who they were, fundamentally, as a band. The use of strings in particular and the layered instrumentation are a plus. The "hits" hold up well, as does the record as a whole. The lesser known cuts offer value, too (see the twinned guitar solos on the mid-tempo "My Kingdom," a real highlight of the record and which really shoulda been longer). The closer is lovely and languid. It must be recognized that they've held up better than many of their peers, though this could be generational bias talking.

Master player at the top of his craft and delivers a great show, too.

Bowie at his best. The showmanship and storytelling silliness is de-emphasized, with a more sincere-seeming and serious-sounding commitment to actual, you know, musicmaking. The playing and tone are great throughout and there are no major lulls or tracks that are outright/obvious fillers.

How can a "fringe-rock artifact" be one of only a finite number of records one must hear? This is tedious noise.

Truly one of a kind, an unmistakable voice with a distinct style. One has always preferred her with smaller ensembles, but one should take the Lady in any way one can.

About as intriguing musically today as late '80s Balkan politics are relevant today. Different, yes, and perhaps worth an occasional consideration in a historical sense. But suitable for this esteemed list? No. This is a musical oddity, a satirical (perhaps bitting – it's hard for one to say when one doesn't speak the languages here) commentary on a political moment in time. It's also just straight-up odd, especialy the vocals and the rather haphazard contrasting of styles, metal chugging with minimalist keyboards and the stagey and bizarre-o vocals.

One digs an MC with style and originality. Three or four good to great tracks. The more melodic flows are best –- see "Selfish," see "Flowers."

This grows on one's slightly with more lisetning, but can't help resist thinking of how many similar acts were better/preferable – Nick Drake, obvs, but also Fairport, and, more recently, Belle & Sebastian or Richard Hawley. And TB isn't even in the same conversation as Dylan and Leonard Cohen. Even allowing for the "cult favorite" grading curve, one thinks TB is a bit overrated (largely due to the attractions of the tortured artistt/sensitive poet factor). Oddly formal vocal style, as if overtrained as a youth. And some of the songs reach excessively for a troubadour-madrigal vibe that sounds a bit silly today, however timely/on-point it might have seemed in the '60s. For instance, the title cut wants to be cinematic and comes across as an overdone show tune. The inclusion of both strings and winds and the song-cycle structure surely show the nefarious influence of prog rock on the folkies. "Pleasant Street" is easily the best song, followed by "Morning Glory."

The anger, which is the heart of the matter, feels considerably less than authentic, more privileged and performative, and nothing like righteous. Does that make her a Karen? One's always struggled to like Fiona Apple for her showiness and her silly expressions of aggression. She's just updated a 30-year-old record with some new sounds and song structures and settings – some pretty inventive – but considerable sameyness (especially of tone).

Sultry and soulful and just a touch raw, to keep it real, and the real deal this very much is: “My Coloring Book,” “Anyone Who Had a Heart,” and “Twenty-Four Hours to Tulsa" and “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” are all excellent.

Still can't tell if it's the punkiest sort of pop or poppiest sort of punk. Either way it works and it's not hard to remember how (or why) this was all the cool kids' favorite band back in the day.

Sleek, shiny and super catchy. Precision engineered, indie rock of the early aughts. Still sounds fresh but almost cliched at time, given how redolent it is of its time. "Take Me Out" is world-class hooky and "Come on Home" makes a nice (not-quite) bookend.

Unbearably cheesy, timelessly cheesy.

Terrific and understated. Groovy and thoughtful and has proven quite durable in that it still sounds great.

From High Lonesome to High Dysfunction to High Crimes and Misdemenanors. Friends and Enemies in Low Places all across Weird Old America, including all the best trailer parks, and different, non-best housing tracts. One could listen to this all day.

The dynamic is less loud-quiet than fierce-tender and it helps to have a world-class frontman who goes all in on effort and who seems to have born with a pure rocker’s attitude (e.g., not faking/posing at all). “Mountain Song,” “Summertime Rolls,” “Standing In the Shower” and the theme song are all classic, and the balance all add value in their unique ways. One always liked the hot-burning energy and the fact they haven’t sullied their legacy with endless reunion and multiple final-final-farewell tours. Still smokin’ hot after all these years.

One can kinda see how this was slated to be a big hit, but that's largely a function of it being pretty middle of the road, even a bit dull. The playing is pretty sharp throughout. One doesn't hear the "genius" the editors hear, but rather above average psychedelia that's nice to know that's at no risk of being worn out from overplaying. Demerits for dumb band name.

Only significant for what they would do later. This is too much of its time to have much appeal today, though. "Interstellar Overdrive" might be historically interesting but it's not a cut many, or any, PF fans think of first (or even tenth or 20th) when they consider what to play. Meddle, Animals and The Final Cut would have been far better choices on the merits.

A long-time fave, with so many highlights and memorable cuts, but an excess of filler (the spoken word bits do wear a bit). Maybe not aging quite as well as one expected.

Out there, just way out there. Otherworldly funky and soulful and still unprecedented and unrivaled in so many ways, not least in the sheer joyousness that is clearly involved in the making of this record.

Vintage quality through and through.

Likably slapdash and rootsy-groovy, and sorta proto-Kinks. Album gets sillier and less interesting as it goes along, feels like an overreaching, like they wanted to get into something like high concept, when the playing is quite sufficient on its own. Spoken word stuff is total waste of time and disrupts the flow.

Extraordinary chill for such harsh subject matter. Great all the way around, maybe Marv's best, which is saying a lot.

Straight-up awful, even accounting for the irresistible "Photograph." Records like give rock a bad name. Embarrassing.

It does offer some gritty and occasionally funky appeal if one can drop one's grudges against its considerable difficulties. One thinks of Beat happenings, and free jazz, and performance art, as much as pop or rock music. More than anything, it's indulgent, and its innovations and influence seems perhaps diluted as the influencees seem to have exceeded him in many ways. Worth knowing if its merits don't go down very easily.

Nothing wrong or offensive with this, but doesn't exactly jump through the speakers or headphones. It is a tick too sleepy even by the standards of dream pop, of which one much prefers the lilting, rather than the droning, variet, as manifested here. In fact, this drones to the point of being inert. One would like to compare this effort to their other records, but save for the odd outlier, they are quite difficult to tell part. Something like eight times now have they been have been on the same drone-rinse-repeat cycle. If Beach House are this generation's Cocteau Twins or My Bloody Valentine, one feels mainly pity for this generation.

Just not all that. Neither as clever-good as Pulp nor as epic-good as Oasis. And don't even go \"modern-day Kinks,\" as that's just an insult to the Davies (and an illustration of dodgy taste, generally). There are moments of undeniable quality here but not so many as to justify Blur being so impressed with themselves.

One is so easily transported back to the shag-carpeted basement rec rooms and bedrooms of one's youth, isn't one? The musicmaking craft here is of the highest order and a few of the songs are nearly unparalleled in being just so goddamn fun to hear. Such grooves as these make it hard to imagine a better or purer pop record ever being made.

Holds up well, especially the relatively complex rhythms and the understated guitar work, which one sometimes must strain to hear over the synths, which never reach "ultimate '80s" degrees off cheesiness but are maybe more prominent than might be considered absolutely ideal. Kerr is a strong vocalist, believable, concerned sounding, a less showy Bono. One wishes there was an auto production filter to hear what this record, made with the studio tech available today or in the aughts, might have sounded. One suspects they were great live and wishes one had seen them so. And hey editors, they ruled more in the early and mid-80s, not late.

One would have had to have never lived in the South and been reared far from it to call this the first "truly meaningful Southern rock" statement. Maybe look at an album released three years earlier called Idlewild South. Perhaps the editors mean that LS is more obviously Southern that the ABB, who go plenty deep with the blues and were actually bi-racial in their lineup. That said, this album is something special; one can hear the tightness of the band, all those hours in dive bars and juke joints – there's real polish and accomplishment. "Tuesday's Gone" is near symphonic in its power and every cut offers heft and substance. "Freebird" is so good to have stood up to all the abuse and overplaying. One has always loathed this band's politics and avoid its fans, though the talent is clear and undeniable.

Relatively interesting, with a few first-rate cuts, but not massively engaging or super intriguing.

Still excellent, but perhaps seems a little overlong today and a tad rando in the number of musical shifts. It does not quite grab one as forcefully as it seemed to do back in the day. Still so much to like with a half-dozen gems, easily. And some forgettable DIY (and emo) probably saw this as a jumping-off point, one doesn't think he can be held responsible for that. After all, this is much more sophisticated.

Much edgier and shadowier than it seems on first listen. Yes, the classics are the ones to know – "Oh, Boy!" and "Not Fade Away" and That'll Be the Day" and " There's just the slightest link to Greil Marcus' "old weird America" in the edgy darkness of "It's Too Late." The authentic yearning of "Send Me Some Lovin" is trembly and a mite creepy. If "Last Night" or "An Empty Cup" weren't in David Lynch's Blue Velvet, they very well could have been. It's worth remembering that this must have terrified parents and moralists in the same way punk did. And strip out the barbershopy-quartet backing vocals and we're in proto-indie territory, the earliest known fossil of jangle. The simplicity of approach and directness yields real power. One is saddened to think of all the lost excellence and growth that was sure to come.

As much as one liked this band in the real-time day, it was only sporadically, a song here, a video there, and some promotional vinyl from college radio, still in one’s possession. And one took J&MC only semi-seriously, as if they’d seem only reverb deep on closer examination; one means – just how edgy could they be, if one liked them, one’s taste often being impugned as “normie” (before that term was a commonplace) by one’s college radio colleagues? All that shows the callow critical tendencies of one’s youth, though the title of the recurs might be seen as a bit of a troll (long before such was named), and perhaps the name of the band seemed a touch too provocative by design. What one hears more clearly now is that the depth is in the hollowness. This record, though not quite as rich as Darklands, holds up well. One limitation is that “Just Like Honey” is the only truly first-rate song here (though perhaps one of the top 20 or 30 of the decade). The innovation lasts thru the influence, one supposes. And, speaking of decades, it says something about the feast of 80s alt-indie-post-punk (whatever) that a band this good and this original remains obscure compared to relative bland-o mediocrities of the ‘90s (lookin at you Blur and Oasis and Nirvana).

To say this is better than Pet Sounds is just silly. This is a transitional record, with a pretty weak first side. Side 2 gets better but the best of the Beach Boys was still to come, obviously.

A delight with a mix of styles and lots of pleasing melodies and hooks and riffs, though, even as an Indophile, one's not totally clear as to just what to make of it. One's glad to have heard. Definitely worthy.

Art rock at the highest and most smoldering level.

Starts off with a bang and a massively appealing look, with likable attitude to boot. Fresh and energetic and just massively youthful, but the hooks are undeniably appealing, but with some classic-y druggy overtones, that one finds comfortably familiar. Ends strong, too, though in a quieter mood which promised more excellence to come, which never did, quite.

Not nearly as terrible or pretentious as one might've expected, given just how wretched and awful the later work would become. The big singles hold up – they're solid and masterpieces of their moment and showcase Grace Slick's vocal strengths. The quieter cuts – "My Best Friend," "Comin' Back to Me," "Embryonic Journey" – are surprisingly effective and the overall quality is pretty high throughout. In general, they don't try too hard or oversell the material, which mostly comes off (the quite tepid blues "In the Morning" being a rather glaring exception and a few of the latter cuts sounding an awful lot like filler). Though their putrid and embarrassing future work as Starship (including "We Built This City," a strong contender for worst all-time song ever), as well as their self-importance, can't be overlooked, this record, with its classic '60s sound, holds up much better than many of their contemporaries' efforts.

Sure it's uncompromising, but also insistently ugly and non-melodic. It's as if Fugazi doesn't want many people to like or enjoy their outputs, in which case they've succeeded gloriously, despite a few well-wrought riffs and moods. What might have been with some variance in the textures and some competent vocals. One understands they were great live; one knows intuitively that it would have been difficult to tell the songs apart or withstand the assault for very long.

Just can't get into this; one feels the ship has sailed on M. Walker, he's got a variety show voice and a delivery/intonation far too dramatic (not to mention the penchant for syrupy strings and overly sentimental arrangements) for the age of irony. If Scott 1-3 didn't work (and they didn't), one wonders how he ever got to 4. Maybe anybody not named Led Zeppelin should be less presumptuous in naming their records.

Quality if a touch uneven. The dreaminess nicely complemented by upbeat brightness that feels a bit like waking up on the right side of the bed.

There are a lot of likable moments here – in “Timer,” “Eli’s Coming,” “Stoned Soul Picnic” among other cuts – but the tempo shifts are too jarring and too many. Net effect is sub-compelling.

An utterly forgotten classic. This should be much easier to find today, at which time it seems more relevant than ever.

The charges of it being middle of the road and too Starbucks-y are all fair and understandable. But those are too easy criticisms: there is craft and nuance and subtlety here in the music making. Indeed, the playing is polished and understated (if unobtrusive) and lovely. The songs are fine, though the Hank Williams cover could be said to be ill-chosen or not memorably interpreted or both. The vocals are not overdone and are more consistently more mellifluous and appropriate than not. And certainly it’s a pleasure to listen to. Perhaps not multiple Grammies worth, perhaps not meriting 27 million in sales, but a pleasure nonetheless. All one has to do is simply listen to what’s here, not what’s not here or obsess about where one might hear it or who else might like it. Perhaps the reason it’s not exactly challenging is that it didn’t set out to be. It’s near perfect for what it aims to be (which is not challenging or jazz for that matter).

Suave and sophisticated, though just slightly sub-timeless given the particularity (not to say peculiarity) of the keys. It's music for the middle aged, particularly those that like their martinis extra dry.

AL has a first-rate voice and there are a few quality pop songs (starting with "Sweet Dreams"), but all the ultimate '80s synth vibes and feels ulimately undo the record. It is what it is, which is very much ensconced in its era.

Groovy and relevant and interesting. Perhaps a bit talkier than it needs to be.

Comparisons to Led Zeppelin are ludicrous, as if those lads would ever think – much less stoop – to rip off Bon Jovi (see backing vocals on "Love In an Elevator" and super cheesy drums on "Monkey Back" and cheesy synths on "Jamie," which sounds like they couldn't quite let go of the '80s). "Dulcimer Stomp" and "Don't Get Mad" have more wrong with them than can be fruitfully described here. This is more like the Stones in their worst late career, utterly forgettable phases. It's all there, the mediocre playing, the silly posturing, the pathetic reaching for relevance. And for good measure every song is too long, too. They were basically a hair metal band at this point, and not a particularly good one.

Shows just how much M was capable of sans-Smiths, which was quite a bit, obvs. There was reason to be skeptical but classics such as "Everyday Is Like Sunday" and "Suedehead" and the nearly-as-great "Bengali" put such concerns to rest.

Sophomoric and utterly putrid.

Iggy's cool and crazy wild and everything, but one has always considered this band of screamers and bangers to be hugely overrated, given one's preference for musicians who prioritize talent over just screaming and banging.

Just great, flows easy and sweet (“Dear Mama,” “Old School”) and melancholic enough (“It Ain’t Easy,” “Young N’z”) to add resonant depth and poignance. One must look up samples. Distinct vocal tone and excellent use of backing vocals. Oh, does the g-funk work wonders.

Deftly blends darkness with some countrypolitan-ish sheen and upbeat bounce in the playing. "Honky Tonk Angel" is aces. Title cut is classic, though with many other excellent versions.

GP is a better record, straight-up, though this is awfully good and highly polished perhaps excessively so. “Brass Buttons” and “Hickory Wind” are best cuts. There's just the slightest feel of this being a lark that keeps it from top rank of records.

Yes, it's groovy and one admires the unique vision and commitment to same. And yes in a more just world Zappa would've realized richer commercial rewards, but it's not hard to understand why he wasn't. This is sprawling and fun and certainly interesting (perhaps that's the dominant trait) but it's also sort of indulgent and abstract. And while vaguely jazzy (mostly in its free-forming), it's not jazz actually, so those of us who prefer jazz would not be fully compelled. "Gumbo Variations" is best of a pretty strong lot overall.

Interesting and groovy-sounding, particularly in the context of a band forming itself, moving from pretty raw proto-punk to a more ambitous, tuneful and conceptually rich approach. The satire probably seemed funnier all those years ago but some fun and memorable cuts, starting with “Our Love Was” and “Rael” and “I Can’t Reach You." There are sign of rock-operatic ambitions to come. One would like to have seen how the record would've played on its own terms and shorn of the mostly silly (and largely irrelevant) set-up and "concept."

Fine as far as it goes, which is to seem more like programming than music. There are some interesting and tuneful bits, such as (not very cleverly titled) "Science Friction" and "Attached." But really sterile and synthetic sounding and the satire seems to have seeped out in the nearly three decades since release.

Exquisitely edgy. Classic not just because of the kicky, kinetic tunes (starting with the nonpareil "Been Caught Stealin'") but because of the smolderly burners that come mostly later in the record ("Three Days," "Then She Did," "Of Course," "Classic Girl" but also "Obvious"). An – perhaps the – essential 90s record.

Yes, clinical, but just funky enough, too. Absolutely overdetermined, and too rigidly designed, but with a touch of humor, one feels. And it's not at all clubby, at least, or danceable but cerebral, which one prefers, and just the slightest bit cheeky, too. But let's be clear: Broken Social Scene is much the better band of this milieu, this vintage.

Solid, vintage stuff from a band that positioned itself as the coolest on the planet for more than a few years. This isn't as good as Daydream Nation but not far off either. "Sugar Kane" is one's favorite cut, because it adds some Mascisesque licks to their signature industrial-slow burn-smolder affect.

Epic and inventive in its way.

Extremely strong. "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" is a strong contender for the '80s best song and the rest of the record – including the overplayed "Head Over Heels" and "Shout" retain heft and substance and authentic emotional content today.

Just kinda dull and middle of the road.

Sounds an awful lot like an album by a dude name Shuggie should sound. Mellow groovy, with tinker-y electronic textures and a way laid-back vibe. "Rainy Day" and "Pling" are '70s at its seriously chillest.

Big and bold charts for the horns and a few first rate cuts -- "Does Anybody Know What Time It Is" and "Beginnings" and "Questions 67 and 68." "I'm a Man" is hardest-rockin of the harder-rockin cuts, of which several have unnecessarily big guitar solos. This record is also astonishing in light of how seriously awful they got later on ... in the Cetera era.

Strong though occasionally overreaching in the direction of abstraction and obscurity. "Stuka" doesn't work nearly as well as "Trainspotting," say. "Star" is easily the best cut. The rave-y neo-hippie vibe has aged reasonably well.

Just the sort of raw noise that has long given rock and roll a bad name.

Delicate and authentic and powerful due its vulnerability (which would become clearer later). One might have to be younger and more close to the desperate hope inherent to being young and artistic to get the full impact.

Waste of time.

One almost has to be a child of the '80s for this to have much resonance, by which one means an actual child in the '80s (like via time travel). Otherwise, this just sounds like a relic rooted in time, antique music, if occasionally engaging in shadowy sort of way.

Found it overhyped and overdone at the time, and one's opinion hasn't much changed since. And though it's clearly aiming for timelesness (with Cohen and Benjamin Britten covers), this thing wreaks of '90s self-seriousness (see last few cuts and cover photo, too). One's pretty convinced that this would never had the liftoff or the legacy without his dad and untimely death. Just sayin'. Yes, it's sad he couldn't figure out who he wanted to be, artistically, Big Hair Vocalist or Opera Singer are among the personae he tries on here, and not always convincingly.

Yes, Clapton blazes, but the tight and high-impact song structures generate much of the power. Only false note is "What I'd Say" because, you know, Ray Charles.

Pretty interesting, but goes on too long. And just because Nick Cave is on it doesn't automatically make it cool.

So one knows the few scattered hits that reached the US and also the "thinking-man's-band" reputation but struggles to square the circle with careful listening all these years on. Sounds cool and enjoyable enough but one wonders why so many '70s bands seemed to want to be more like Stephen Sondheim than the Beatles or, better yet, Elvis. As for the music, it's a dog's breakfast in a blender: bit of glam and art music here and theatre-like harmonies and even touches of prog (especially evident in the overcooking of everything); fan-practitioners – especially when they are multi-talented, multi-instrumentalists) can be forgiven for trying to take it all one. Yet, what the editors call “breathless invention” reads like diletantte-ism or me-too-ism or kitchen-sink-ism .... just-too-much maximalism (an occupational in early '70s music industry). Record gets steadily better -- "Somewhere In Hollywood" and "Sacro-Illiac" and "Oh Effendi" are easily the best cuts [3 of last 4 [for those of you scoring at home]). Also seems this lot were quite convinced of their own cleverness (a harbinger of Blur, in a way). One gets the feeling that their handful of hits only convinced them further, plus their sense of being wildly under-appreciated. Obviously talented and an acquired taste, sure, but one wonders if the acquisition is worth the effort (see also, Midnight Runners, Dexy's [whose reputational arc seems similar to 10cc]). One wants a better answer to the "who cares?" question than one feels on first full listen. One will keep trying but fears diminishing returns.

Dreamy, floating and not unpleasant but never really moves beyond the science-experiment level impacts, however groundbreaking tech-wise it might have been. Seems worth pondering how their inclusion on the Risky Business soundtrack would play with this opinionated crowd of highly refined tastemakers.

Well, it's certainly loud, isn't it? And one senses that that's more or less the point, the noise and the attitude of a supreme and rootsy sort of coolness of affect. Musically, this is just no great shakes. Found it tedious and same-y and very unworthy of all the hype at the time of its release and find it the same today. Just not at all one's thing. Is it any wonder they were largely a passing sort of phenom? This might've been the precise moment when this DIY sort of rock jumped the shark.

Gorgeous and good for you, too. Has anyone ever had a purer voice? A great set of songs, too.

One likes this less than If You're Felling Sinister and The Boy with the Arab Strap, but still enjoys it for the craft, the intelligent/literate songwriting and general vibe. The second half of the record is much the stronger. "We Rule the School" is lovely, the best of this lot. "Wandering Days" and "I Don't Love Anyone" and "Mary Jo" are also strong. "The State I'm In" is essential B&S and "Electronic Renaissance" an engaging diversion.

This inclusion feels more like a "best first record" or "rookie of the year" or "new younger poets" or a retroactive lifetime achievement award, because this, while biting and high-energy and tightly played, is a bit monolithic and not throat-grabbingly cool at first listen, though it improves as it goes along and last several cuts, including "Cheat," "Police & Thieves" and "Garageland" confirm it's much more than punk and points the way forward to better records. One would like to weigh the relative merits with the poppier "Combat Rock" of one's youth.

There's always room in one's musical diet for records like this ... edgy, stylish, glittery and not afraid a pop hook or silly lyric in the service of cool. "Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll," indeed!

The several decent-to-very-good cuts (titler, "What's Love," "Better Be Good" and title cut) and feel-good vibes about TT career renaissance can't make up for the prevalence of Ultimate '80s effects, which effectively rescind any claims to greatness. "Can't Stand the Rain" and "1984" and "Ball of Confusion" (which maybe be "Deluxe Edition" add-ons) are cringeworthy with the cheesy synths and drum machine abuse and even borderline unlistenable (on one's deathbed or in any other setting). Sounds like too many producers in the mix.

Pure class throughout, with a dozen top-shelf tracks of rich creativity and a few that are angelically ethereal. The editors seem lost on this band: there's no way that Beach Boys Today is a better record than this ... which is just pop music of a different order than 99.9% of all that's ever been recorded/released.

What to say about this? Dynamic, groovy, impassioned, sprawling ... all adds up to Afrobeat excellence (plus so much more).

Terrific beats and strong samples make for a rich, layered and highly tuneful sounds. The soul and gospel effects are particularly welcome and balance out the excessive length and endless braggadocio. Opener is great, maybe the best cut, “Slow Jamz” is outstanding (lines like “I’m gonna play this Vandross/You gonna take your pants off" are the sorts for which we listen to hip-hop”) “Through the Wire” is great too. This is a concept album that doesn't need the concept. The jokes about degrees are more silly than not and there are far too many of them. Still, pretty great.

Sounds like how conversations with old friends feel. Deserves to be much better known.

Very cool and addictive. "All My Friends" is a great track, at once driving and introspective.

Quite the comedian, isn't he? One would've preferred another song or two than all the pandering banter. "Boy Named Sue" is the highlight, the opener "Wanted Man" and "Peace in the Valley" also good. Folsom Prison is better, and not just because it was the first.

Will the real Love please stand up? This could not be more different than Da Capo, which is worthwhile in very different ways. This sounds like – and the chart history would seem to confirm – like a failed experiment, a band searching for an identity. The horns, strings and other flourishes provide several affecting (though perhaps excessively Donovan-esque) moments. Personally, one likes the softer playing, it never quite achieves maximum impact. That Arthur Lee got a second life is satisfying (he deserved more recognition), but it’s possible this the recovery of Love’s reputation is a case of protesting too much against the initial obscurity. They are both underrated and destined to remain at best a cult following (and one doesn't exactly have to have the most refined ears in the world to be in the cult, either).

A full tick below mbv and perhaps a few below Loveless (few records aren't), but it's still very good and interesting, if quite ragged and uneven – a band developing in real time and with more than few rough edges, it seems fair to say. "All I Need" and "Several Girls Galore" and most resonantly point to the future. "Nothing Much to Lose" suggests how they could have been a pretty decent conventional indie rock band. Best song "I Can See" was saved for last.

Hot and riffy (but also super scrappy and excessively talky), this feels like punk made slightly more intelligible. One saw their final show (Charlotte, 12/13/85) so should probably round up but not sure all the jokes land today and one's simply not all the way there with this anymore. Not even sure one would rate it over fIREHOSE's best.

A rich and spicy blend, with some notes of prog and considerable jam band feels.

This swings and stings, and jukes quite a bit, too. There's a likable crispness and near professionalism to what they're doing here that elevates proceedings and points the way to greater achievements on the horizon (including those that would work out to be much artier but also more ragged and considerably less professional). "Stupid Girl" is silly and bubblegum-y, the dog of a pretty strong bunch. The blues are just valid enough, "Doncha Bother Me" the most so, though the juke-y "High and Dry" points to their future success with variations on basic country blues. "Lady Jane" is generally a successful experiment, but it's likely best that they didn't too much of this because braggart-swaggery Mick (see "Under My Thumb") is more convincing. "I Am Waiting" and "Out of Time" are also represenative of Stones' mid-tempo strength. Differences in UK and US versions aside (US being slightly preferred in that "Paint It Black" is a superior song to the crisp but somewhat obvious "Mother's Little Helper"), this is, net-net, awfully good though slightly sub-masterpiece.

Yes, it's classic, but the best song is the one their surprisingly die-hard fans hate the most (with possible exception of "Patience"). What does that tell us? One thinks they should also be held to account for making so many people hate rock music and charge many fans and critics with being rockist.

Tough and knotty and also seething and sizzling. Playing is tight and arrangements are lean, which one mostly digs, and most licks blaze with a purity, with relentless energey from the backbeat and the sound is pristinely clear. See vamping riffs of "Not Great Men" for highlight. Unrelentingly edgy but also well crafted – see "I Found That Essence." Does adding funk to punk make it post-punk? Certainly it's artier and more politically engaged (apparently) than most of those other genres, but it's more spiky than groovy. Downside is that it can feel a bit one-note, for all its future influence, and there's a pretty severe lack of flow.

A huge success if they wanted to create the most idiotic and ugliest music possible. One wonders how many of the people who wear the t-shirts (with the admittedly cool logo) actually have heard the record.

Strange and silly, not unlike the decade in which it was produced.

What a pleasant surprise, fresh and bright and charming. "Changes" and "I Want Her She Wants Me" are just lovely – Bach-y and Beach Boys-esque. But the whole disc is classy and lush chamber pop. And it's a clear indictment of the music business that artists such as the Z's here only feel free to do their best work having decided to quit the industry. The hit may be the weakest, least interesting (if only because the most familiar) song of the bunch.

Sounds like a soundtrack for fin de siecle globalism , perhaps because that's exactly what it is.

The least shitty heavy metal band is still pretty shitty.

It's all about the hot licks that connect blues and psychedelia, but the rumblin'-stumblin' drummin' is good, too, and some bass lines sound like world domination. One gets why YB's were generally considered the next big thing, even if it never quite fully worked out for them, a function of exaggerated expectations perhaps.

Just relentless in its humorlessness and one-notedness and utter failure to appeal to anyone other than those predisposed to like this sort of thing.

Hugely impressive and massively enjoyable. Feels like this has been unfairly and unnecessarily forgotten. Groovy and approachable beats, plus positive vibes in the vocals, plus unconventional instrumentation (there should be more harmonica in hip-hop [and possibly cowbell, too]).

Excellent overall and extremely well made. It feels very much in earnest and is completely accessible, if not their edgiest, angriest or even most authentic work. Indeed, this is state of art, late '80s with decent range from "One Tree Hill" and "Tripped" to "Bullet the Blue Sky" and the quietly powerful "Running to Stand Still." A mature and confident band operating near the peak of its powers, which are not to everyone's taste, one understands (especially as Bono has grown well-nigh insufferable down the years). Last few cuts represent a weak ending, or at least a significant drop from the extraordinarily strong first 8 of 10 cuts. But one can't quibble about the big hits being overrated (primarily because they're no longer so overexposed) or too obvious. One's even sensitive to Greil Marcus argument that U2 is just kind of boring. But what he misses is the compelling and earwormishly hookiness of Edge's approach and power of Bono's voice (overpowered by excessive commitment though it sometimes is). Even if not quite as good War, Boy and Unforgettable Fire (one's personal faves), this is awfully strong overall.

Pure prog genius. Tuneful, with decent balance of pleasing musicality and otherworldly intellectual ambition.

So many great songs – classics, one almost forgets how great "Fire" and "Manic Depression" were/are – but it's "Third Stone from the Sun" that makes the record first-rate, and an all-time debut. One slightly prefers the rough-edged and looser Axis Bold as Love.

Vocals are iffy, production/sound is muddied, even muffled, and there are rough edges aplenty. And this might not even be a top 10 version of "Little Wing." But there's a great deal of soul in "Bell Bottom Blues" and "Why Does Love Have to Be So Sad?" The blues are credible, too, even accounting for Clapton's overrated, allegedly divine reputation w/r/t same. Appropriation or no, one almost empathizes with his sense of being haunted by unrequited love in "If You've Never Loved a Woman." And "Layla" -- what's to say? Yes, one of the all-time riffs, but it's the closing section that makes it, a bittersweet, highly layered (and Duane Allman-assisted) lament of the end of an era or the aforementioned unrequited love. Powerful stuff indeed. Slowhand never did better work.

"Take On Me” is perhaps second only to "Never Gonna Give You Up" on the Mt. Olympus of earwormy annoyance and ubiquity. Sure the video is visually interesting but the music ... not so much. For all its pretension to stylishness and (opera-level) sophistication, so much of this barely rises to level of synthy '80s sugar high, and now these keys sound decidedly analog, the music tech equivalent of a green screen. "Love Is Reason" and "I Dream Myself Alive" might be interesting songs in another band's hand. Title cut and "Living a Boy's Adventure Tale" are best of tepid and mostly forgettable lot.

The slower and more thoughtful cuts avoid the excess of cowbell and are thus much the stronger, especially “Incident” with its excellent piano flourishes and “samba pa ti.” Mostly forgettable vocals are the other major demerit that keeps this out of the top rank.

This band is so much more annoying that it needs to be. So often the attitude gets in the way of good hooks, and cool tunes. One's given to wonder just how much better Blur might have been had the played it just a bit straighter. The cleverer the tune, the less the impact. "Badhead" and "To the End" and "Clover Over Dover" each suggest how they might have made songs that people just liked (rarther than wondering if or how they liked it). Just too much posturing and taking the piss. Pulp were better and certainly the Kinks, too. And one doesn't even much like Oasis but still prefer to this lot.

Dark and droney and much more powerful on headphones.

It swings and grooves sufficiently to make politics seem non-preachy.

Tired and tepid and even tame-sounding today. "Be Thankful" is best song.

His voice is grittier and more guttural than other soul singers of his generation, and the authenticity/sincerity is off the charts. One likes many of his versions of these songs better than the original (or better known) versions, but a few are hard to appreciate because they sound like further exploitation of already polluted songs; if only OR's "Satisfaction" sold more than Mick and Keef's. "You Don't Miss Your Water" is a fine closer.

Murky and shuffling and ominous, with some eerie tunefulness here and there, too. One largely digs.

Fly because it flows. "Izzy Izzy Aah" iz aaahwfully good. The "Can't Stand the Rain" and "Pass the Dutchie" riffs also much fun.

One never knows quite how to feel about music from other cultures, but there's an awful lot to like here. Vocals that engage and haunt, by seeming deep, authentic and committed. The gritty Malian blues seem rooted in another era. One could hear quite a good bit of this.

Fine even enjoyable but one awaits the reaching of the peak Bowie destination -- just way too much of it on this list. The artwork underscores the self-involvement /self-obsession and navel gazing, the reaching for relevance. So much of this is simply unconvincing for being outright synthetic and performative.

Hypnotic and happy-making. Elegant and understated. Dreamy and delightful.

Nobody did loud-quiet-loud better than Billy C. Perhaps SPs weren't the most versatile, quiet-loud-quiet being their only other gear and relying on the contrast on either within or between nearly every song. (To wit, "Quiet" could just as easily and accurately have been called "Loud"). But they get away with it because of the melodies. One generally prefers the tunes in the sweeter and dreamier ("Luna" and "Mayonnaise" and "Spaceboy" being the best of this lot), rather than the outright rageful ones (which feel forced). And give to Billy C: he possesses one of the most distinctive voices, love it or hate it, in recent decades.

Was a phenomenon, wasn't it, her sudden rise. Was it about the public's hunger for authenticity or need for quiet, simple and relatable tunes? Today, this feels a bit pallid, a touch tepid. The distance between the grimness of the material and the neutral (almost numb) delivery is quite striking. No doubting that "Fast Car" is a great song. And shame it feels so relevant today.

Awful, actually. One's had meringues, pop rocks, that were more substantive.

If one can get beyond the cliched-sounding “Robots” -- which feels like a joke, thanks to SNL's famous Sprockets skit -- there are intriguing moments here, both on their own terms and relative to the poisoned chalice of the dreaded influence. “Neon Lights” is lovely. But here again the datedeness of the synths undercuts the impact (is that a Casio? an Atari?). One's time commitment to minimalism would be more rewardingly spent with Steve Reich or Terry Riley. If it's pop music, just how avant garde or aesthetically enriching can it be?

Maybe a touch samey, maybe a touch too long, and maybe SC isn't the world's best on the mic (in terms of rhymes or flows [and maybe even he sounds outright awkward at times], but the confident bluster mostly works and a few of the songs – "Hola Holavita" and "Heart of the City" in particular – are wondrously addictive.

Compelling and affecting – it's alternately classy and raw. The accompaniments and arrangements are great, too. She's a voice like no other and one understands those that might find it an acquired taste, especially given her occasional flirtation with overwhelming the songs.

Musically, this is so good and interesting, with dramatic shifts and rich intricacies, that it doesn't much matter whether or not one has any idea about what's going on with the story. That's the essential prog quandary, isn't it? This might be the best output ever of that lame, lamented genre.

"Polish with spit" indeed. This is fun for adding some color and texture to the punk template. "Can't Be Happy" and "Plan 9 Channel 7" are the highlights. Maybe overrates its own cleverness/eccentricity by a nidge, but the likably tossed-off feel makes it a winner.

The material isn't exactly other-worldly challenging, but the groove is easy, flowing. Turrentine steals the show at times, because JS plays the Hammond B3 solos a bit on the chill side. "Incredible" is an overstatement, sure, but this is well worth knowing.

So many great songs and done so loosely-roughly. One can make a case that it's the filigree and embroidery on "Lover's Rock" (of which there are many such moments) that makes this a classic. Such coolness throughout, from it's brightest-lightest moments to its darkest-edgiest bits. It all works – and works exceedingly well, if in often unexpected ways.

Sure, it's an early and important artifact, but it's not early as interesting, rich or enjoyable as the later records, including the live ones. Perhaps the editors didn't want to go down the rabbit hole of Dick's Picks, from the vaults, etc. but this is not even in the top 5 of live records that got broad release. One gets it, but this is a lazy choice given that it's almost primitive compared to all that was to come. Consider how later versions of "Space" and "Epilogue" are vastly better (plus weirder) than the "Feedback" here. And later bangers are much more richly textured and tuneful (and less bangy-clangy) than "Love Light."

One assumes the title was not meant to imply “dull as …” though it’s fitting in just that way. Noisy Pretension would also have been a truth-in-advertising sort of title. This reads more metal – with all the jeg-jeg-jeg foundations – than grunge, in which the melodious quotients tend to be higher. Vocal style might be best described as half-Axl, half-Vedder, and feels precisely that dated now. Tired and too long and takes itself too seriously, which is what so much of '90s metal.

Oh, the earth tones of a late-period masterpiece. Oh the refinement and depth and maturity and bittersweetness that yet retains its hope, hard-won though it feels. "Sidewinder" and "Man on the Moon" are as good as anything REM ever did (which is saying a lot) and all the other cuts work exceedingly well on their own terms. One entered adulthood, seemingly in exactly simultaneity with this fine record, which one pairs mentally with New Adventures in Hi-Fi (with the nonpareil "Electrolyte"). It still sounds great when one's long since past middle age. What a band this was.

What's the point? This is lame and dated and best forgotten and one suspect the BBs themselves might agree.

Grandeur? Meaningfulness? More like overdone and embarrassing. They sound like they could have made a credible folk rock band or, who knows, maybe even a disco band in the future. There’s talent here, especially with the vocals (though the over-reliance on the vibrato is tiresome). This seemed to be a band just waiting for the right trend or musical fad.

It's outstanding overall, very high quality in pretty great quantify, even if one finds the loudest, ragin-est cuts a bit tiresome and feels a bit yo-yoed between those and the rather excellent sweeter and more melodious cuts. On certain days, under specific conditions, this is nearly a 5.

Solid and substantive with decent amount of swing besides. There's some rock-steady in the ska-ness here. "I Think It"s Going to Rain" is best cut, but "Tyler" and "King" and "Strange Fruit' also strong. All the moods and vibes and resonances are right on.

Utterly charming. And a total Trojan Horse in that the lightness of effect and whimsical affect of many songs belie real yearning and pathos. KM is begging you to underrate her. Title cut is wondrous. "Slow Burn" and "Lonely Weekend" are also each top-shelf in slightly different registers. "Space, Cowoby" is the best punctuated song title ever (a treat for the grammarian-bookworm cohort) and lovely besides. The fun songs do their jobs, too. This record renewed one's faith in the ability of commercial music – and pop-country music – to produce beauty.

The pastoral side is a wonder, "That's the Way" and "Tangerine" a one-two punch of excellence. Multiple other solid cuts make this a treat, a hidden gem, underappreciated, etc. etc. Its ease and mellowness marks it as outlier in the I-IV set and though it lacks the raw and overwhelming power of the other records, it's every bit their equals.

Mostly light and fun and tuneful. Charmingly rough around the edges and tossed-off, with some winningly greasy/honky bits (e.g., "Momma Miss America") -- one has never dug the sickly-sweet and perfectionist Paul. The more polished "Maybe I'm Amazed" has never sounded better, shining through like a sunburst at the end.

Hypnotic beats whose frequent samplings make perfect sense. "Genius of Love" is the hookiest of all, with Lorelei" a bit of a revelation here, largely for having been forgotten. Better than one remembers; it's likably light-hearted and what once took as silly feels a touch more substantive now.

Utterly louche-tastic – "gloriously seedy" is dead on. Could not groove more swingingly, putting one in mind of a French Rat Pack, but with more continental flair, plus some dark shadows to boot.

One of the best records of the early aughts holds up extremely well. It's deep and sweet and affecting, with a sense of both swing and humor, a fairly rare combination one finds. "Flight Test" and "Ego Tripping" are all-time tunes, and the title cut a full notch below, though still very strong, within a fully unified set that works excellently well together.

Just excellent and vibey and never has a record been more true to its title. An exercise in artful languor.

Interesting musically, but overwrought emotionally. Vocals in particular seem overdetermined, a bit precious too here, borderline pretentious there.

There's raw power in the simplicity, but there's an overall effect of simplistic-ness. It's not hard to believe they wrote the songs in two days. One suspects Cale saved them from themselves, and perhaps even made the record. Iggy sounds like he's channeling Jagger and Reed, and Mark Smith of the Fall, doubtlessly imitating Iggy Pop sound more like Iggy Pop than Iggy did – or rather, how Iggy should have sounded. Stooges would be downhill from here.

Tuneful and ragged, sweet and bitter, they were REM before REM were REM, and the influence on indie rock could not be clearer or more pronounced. This reads as hollow as it is haunting.

Lean and crisp and full-on legit. First few cuts make this a classic in the genre.

Sprawling, bizarre-o and a total mess. Also, completely delightful and a total ton of fun. Also also, a masterpiece on its own terms, as all masterpieces must be.

Have listened this nearly 10 times since showing up in this feed and kept getting surprised about how good this was/is – it's refined, especially the pacing and thoughtfulness, and stylish sophistication, if not quite as great as their brethren in stylishness, most prominently The Style Council. The Van-esque vocals overall – and especially on "April 5" a near-cover of "St. Dominic's Preview" – are a strength. So too the ambitious, but not hubristic studio layerings, which avoid Ultimate '80s excess, even as they lean into borderline excessive fun and catchiness (see last cut "Time It's Time"). Even the most '80s cuts ("Living in Another World" and "Give It Up") suggest the driving, machine-y drum beats weren't wholly without merit, plus invoking aurally the haircuts and energy of the era. There are, net-net, harmonicas, and big banks of strings, and kids' choruses (which were still new about then, the time of the release) but thankfully not all at once or again and again and deployed with aplomb, certainly by the standards of the era. Totally missed the quality and sophistication of this record in the real time of the '80s and must say it holds up extremely well, even accounting for the natural tendency to round up for those bands offering a "newness" effect, even for records approaching late middle age. These guys mighta got lost, but one knows how good they were just from the Spotify algo, which serves up choice Kate Bush in the wake.

One digs the edginess, which feels authentic, if effortful. "Live Off of You" and "Warrior of Woolworths" are quality cuts, the latter's riffs and hooks make it sound like a different band almost, with some hooks that look glamly back to the '70s. The horns make the record. One finds the vocals a bit annoying after a time, but the level of creativity and commitment are legit, solid+.

Easily their best record as it's their most earnest, and least self-important. Every cut has something to offer and the overall feel is very well balanced and integrated. "Pale Blue Eyes" is an all-timer. "Some Kinda Love" and "After Hours" are only slightly less cool, though much lesser known.

Cool and kinetic, with a handful of top-shelf cuts ("Message" and "Walking on the Moon") and more intricate guitar work, plus strong bass work throughout. Not hard to see how they got so big so fast.

Yes, powerful and they were obviously the most advanced/skilled purveyors of British power blues, and one could listen to Ginger Baker all day, but there's a dullness here, likely a result of it being a bit too one-note and too overdetermined (primarily as a showcase for Claptonian riffing).

Strong from simplicity and so easy – even delightful – to listen to, mainly for Willie making it so.

Accessibility is the record's greatest strength, and also its greatest weakness. Lots of solid beats and unimpeachable samples, but also some borderline embarrassing flows (see the cereal song and "Mr. Goodbar"). One guesses that even Cool James would be a little ashamed of those now.

Arty and intriguing, but perhaps a little aimless. Strange and groovy and trippy, almost entirely in a good way. Quite a few tunes I’d like in the right mix, with segues and contrasts that flatter, because they hold up well, but the playing excels the vocals by a considerable – and quite noticeable – distance.

Compelling and powerful. What a talent, that burned brightly, and brightest here.

Utterly delightful.

Okay, vintage post-punk and one sees how it points forward, but ultimately of pretty limited merit. Feels lik one of the editor's pet projects.

Overdone, particularly in the loud-quiet-loud sense. Those tensions put one on edge while listening and so even the cool bits ("The Nurse," say, with the interesting marimba bits) become disconcerting to listen to. The virtue of simplicity is the power it can create, somewhat counterintuitively, but this lot way overplays its hand (see "My Doorbell" also with marimbas), leading to a too-close similarity across songs (see "Doorbell" to "Forever for Her"). One just doesn't see (or hear) this anywhere near as cool as Jack and Meg seem to want one to. This just isn't as surprising or strong as the earlier records.

Just masterful, with several songs that rank among their best – “Weird Fishes” and “All I Need” and “Reckoner." Alternately intense and lovely, but also edgy and disorienting.

Of very high quality, yes, and surpassingly original, but it does sound a touch dated, as tech-led music often does. What sets this apart is the use of tech with real rhythmic creativity (as on "Not One of Us"). "Games without Frontiers" is easily the best cut, but "Through the Wire," "Biko" and "No Self Control" are all good. Though accurate to say so, it's too easy to group PG with Eno, Bowie, etc. One gets the feeling that he's so cool that he would care not a whit about neither those not-inaccurate-but-way-too-easy comparisons nor the blatant ripping off by the Police and others '80s bands.

"Suite Judy Blue Eyes" is a signature moment in rock and roll history. The harmonies are world-historic, of course. The rest of the record is extremely strong, too – with "Guinnevere," and "Helplessly Hoping" and "Wooden Ships" among the highlights – brilliant here, biting there. Things would get briefly better before getting much, much worse. There's always a melancholy in listening to CSN, as well as any of these cats solo, as if it it might've been more, or sweeter or smoother for them, both musically and personally – not that they could have made less a hash of it, one supposes. The production also seems like ti shoulda been cleaner or more pristine here. The highest. possible 4, however.

Playful and poignant, but not as good, overall, as Butterfly. One finds the narratives blurbs a little overdone, but quite likes most of the beats and flows. A skilled and distinctive MC.

Fun and still fresh-sounding, but not as good as the second record, and perhaps a bit one-note and unnecessarily lengthy. "You're Wondering Now" and "Message to Rudy" are tops.

Obviously, this was a major early entry into a genre and one likes this more than much of the progeny it spawned (looking at you Depeche Mode). There's some color here and, again, this would work well for some gym days. But, let's be honest, it's very much on the soulless side (especially the computerized vocal boxing), maybe made the dance music world safe for soullessness. "Pacific" is easily the best cut.

What else can be said? Classic, substantive, artistic, the level of skill, dedication and teamwork is. Scorcesian – both as an artistic peer and thematic compadre. Cinematic lyrically. Only criticism is that maybe it’s too much … borderline baroque (esp “Backstreets” and Jungleland”) but they are conceived as mini-symphonies, mini-operas, etc and work as such. That they don’t get a note wrong – like not a single one – is hopefully impressive. Because there are a lot of notes. And editors: comparing the Boss to god-awful Bon Jovi is not only laughable (e.g., saying that some songs here are as singalongable as BJ’s obvious BS), but also chronologically backward. Even comparing BJ to the Boss would be so obvious as to be critical malpractice, perhaps the most questionable analogy in the whole book.

A record one sort of knew automatically that one was supposed to like when one first heard in college radio days and which is still a great listen. So innovative and interesting and influential, a record that not only set the stage for indie rock/new wave/post-punk, but made all those genres possible. As one reviewer put it, it’s your favorite band’s favorite record. It's the Strokes before the Strokes, like a couple of decades pre-Strokes, and the influence couldn’t be clearer. One hears a more thoughtful, leaner VU, too. Even a casual listen clarifies just what a plundered treasure chest this is: among the direct quotes (or plagiarizers); the solo on Wilco’s “Impossible Germany;” “Elevation” provides loot for The Cardigans’ “Lovefool,” opening figure and Greg Kihn’s most famous hool. And, one wonders, if “Friction” inspired the title of Spoon’s “Gimme Fiction” album. Seems plausible. That range suggests a Rosetta Stone of sorts. Title cut is fantastic, too. Not too much to say that Television midwifed indie/alt rock with this record and practically brought the ‘80s into being. Patti Smith’s records are utterly forgettable compared to this masterpiece.

Being an Indophile, one can listen to this all day. However, there are far better Shankar albums than this Bernstein-esque "guide."

A bit punky, a bit metal-y, a bit dance-y and industrial-y, too, with some vaguely new wavey vibes as well. Certainly not great, but well above terrible. The closing cut, the nearly danceable "Change," is best one. None of this deep, dark scary stuff seems very much so in the decades hence.

Serious, tough and a tinge sad, this is a very good record, that gets better as it goes along and achieves near-excellence, particularly over the last few cuts. Adding "How Soon Is Now" to the US release makes it an outright classic. "Barbarism Begins at Home" and "Well I Wonder" are outstanding, and closing/title cut dial up the emotional intensity another several notches. There's a consistency and understated sort of determination across the cuts that make the whole even more than the sum of its parts.

Big and baroque, almost rococo, and certainly garish throughout. But there are quality cuts and hooks throughout. It's not hard to see why this moved so many units (to put it in terms Fitty would likely understand).

Editors are right that this is "basic" and "bludgeoning" and upfront about its inclusion being based primarily on its influence. Really, it's not worth it. Yes, it's ominous but not really too darkly evil or devilish – for what has the devil to do, ultimately, with Britishized Delta blues? Mostly seems put-on and silly today, though perhaps one is being a bit smug here.

This is good, and perhaps one didn't appreciate its quality and (relative) diversity in '91. Best song is last song (if not a "tearjerker" [per editors] exactly). "Star Sign" best of the hits; one always found "The Concept" a touch annoying, and three decades hasn't changed that first impression. Songs from NB is, from top to bottom, a stronger record, largely because it's a more soulful, record.

Spiky, yes, and energetic, yes, and certainly edgy, too. Let England Shake is a vastly better record; this is above average (and not by a ton), with three plus-plus songs, “Happy and Bleeding” and “Sheela-Na-Gig” and “Dress." Editors of 1,001 overrate PJH; 0.4% is too great a proportion.

What a voice and how well used. Could do a little country (a poor man's "Cold Cold Heart,", a little calypso, too, name-dropping Ray Charles (if one's not mistaken) and ballads and lovers' plaints all over the place, and all of it with soul, so much soul.

Classic, vintage, and still sounds great. Less is more, and the tasteful and timely jazz flourishes really make the record. "Butter," "Verses" and "Vibes" are the best cuts. This is just a tick down from a full-on masterpiece, by which one means, a 5.

Charming and winsome, fun and vibe-y, the world could do with more records in this vein. Neil cover is tops, "People Get Real" also lovely, and "Nothing Can Stop Us" awfully engaging. with plenty of other interesting bits.

Substantive and enjoyable and excellent overall. The lovely "Minawa", the ebullient "Maseru," the groovily contemplative"Maesha" and the easy swinging "Nomali" are the highlights of a very strong and cohesive set.

Karen O doesn't sing, she yelps and shouts and screams, sometimes with good effect, but mostly in a non-meaningful and showy fashion. Did one mention fashion? One doesn't require that musicians and recording artists to be in any way fashionable; the editors overemphasis of KO's style suggests misplaced priorites – who cares about her haircuts or which designers' clothes she wears. Later records got better, but this isn't really too far above average. There are a handful of solid or better cuts – "Y Control," "Maps," "Modern Romance" – but most of the rest is filler, your basic loud, bangy, yelpy, showoffy, posturing and overly performative filler that, though it undeniably represented a state-of-the-art hipsterism at the turn of the millennia, remains filler all the same.

Uncompromisingly original and interesting hooks galore, plus hordes of melodic moments that contrast with the spikiness and dark hues. One has always loved the quirky vocal style – repetitive and talky as it surely is – and the unforgettable voice. Plus, the hard, dark, and insistently edgy sound that still leaves room for hints of sweetness and melody. "Barmy" offers an unforgettable hook, and some likable chaos besides. "Spoilt Victorian Child" swings grittilly and intensely and (just a touch) ominously and offers even a hint of sweetness. "LA" is hella cool. So are "My New House" and "Paintwork." One likes their willingness to stick to their angles and ride these oddball hooks and often askew sounds and structures; that's what it means to be uncompromising, one assumes. The whole thing gets better as it goes along. That The Fall seems to have set up so many other interesting artists – Sonic Youth, Jonathan Richman, Yo La Tengo – secures their legacy. "Petty Thief" and "Cruiser's Creek" have much to recommend them, too, demonstrating how this just keeps getting better.

Better than average Bowie, based mainly on the overall musicality but also for the (relative) restraint he shows in not overdoing things, as he usually does. Several plus songs, too, starting with "Changes" and thru "Life on Mars" and quite a few excellent, even earwormy hooks.

Only slightly better than metal, slightly.

Dreadfully stupid, but it's metal, right, so that's probably seen as a selling point by people who rate this any higher than the bare minimum.

Turgid, tedious and terrible.

Way too much. The worst of this is awful and outweighs the best of this, which is considerable (including "Best Friend" and "'39" and "Bohemian Rhapsody"). Just more trouble than its tunefulness is ultimately worth.

Excellent, uplifting and elegant. The piano solo version of "Ever Changing Moods" is lovely and this might be one's favorite all-time pop song. The jazz playing is well beyond competent – it swings, in fact – and they don't try and do too much with it. "Cafe Blue" and "Paris Match" are heartbreaking, swooningly so. A classic of sophistication and, as with nearly every Weller program, this looks forward even as it appreciates the best of what's past.

Some interesting textures but way too much talking.

Still holds its power. Three all-time, first rank cuts – "Bloody Sunday," "New Years' Day," "Two Hearts" – in three distinct registers (rousing martial anthem; contemplative mid-paced rocker; ebullient pop love song), plus the psalmically prayerful (maybe one means prayerfully psalmic) spiritual "40," which is one of a kind, and sacralized one's attachment to this record and this band at the time and remains quite capable of moving. Anyone who saw them close a concert with this in the '80s, sending the audience out into the night singing in unison will know its power. All the other cuts are distinct and additive, most notably "Drowning Man," and "Surrender." A potential knock it that it's a record best heard in cold, grey seasons. One is tempted to ask when U2 got cynical toward us? Or is that one got cynical toward U2 first. One is content to be secret and exult with this today, recalling the purest affinities of one's musical youth. One never gets one's earliest loves, no, not when they were this passionate and authentic and near magically come to life.

Just gorgeous, in addition to being just a massively, monolithic and sui generis performance – it's hard to imagine a more impressive achievement. It swings, it rollicks. It ponders, wonders and wanders. One feels quite grateful the show wasn't cancelled, and would be interested in an oral history (including audience impressions) of this grand evening and wholly memorable affair.

So worth knowing, and there should be more room for the likes of tango (not to mention string quartets) in this esteemed list There is real artistry here and GB's vibing keep some litheness here, in a genre that can tend to the overly rigid and occasionally turgid. One can't speak so the virtuosity exactly here, having limited genre knowledge to be honest, but certainly one knows what one likes – and finds this most likable indeed One remembers fondly one's nuevo tango's phase and feels inspired to return to it (and not just for sentimental reasons) after giving this a few listens.

This doesn't sound like a soundtrack to someone's life falling part, though one's not sure whether that's a feature or a bug. An authentic, vulnerable and personal cry for help may have had more emotional impact than posturing as a character/mock personae (which is barely visible anyway). But then Bowie's always prioritized posturing over anything like authenticity, which, given his advanced skill in the former, made sense for his brand. Every song has its merits and demerits (often being overlong). It's fine overall but one simply can't fathom how editors found nine Bowie albums worth including; this is not one whit better or worse than three or four others on this list – that is to says, it's precisiely as mediocre, with a decent amount of decent material decently executed, but not exactly awe-inspiring or personally transforming or ground-breakingly innovative in any other way save for presentation. Again, as good as it is actually, one feels like it should've been better.

Totally dug, perhaps because one listened during a lazy afternoon, during which one was (unfortunately) not stoned, lest one would have liked even more. One plans to listen again sometime, when lazy, stoned or, ideally, both.

Listening to this, one can surmise that the '80s started in 1978. Lots of good fun – chiming guitars on "Definitive Gaze;" mood + tone on "Motorcade" and "Light Pours Out of Me;" chorus (plus song title) on "Great Beautician in the Sky" – plus a clear sense of originality, having a plan and executing it pretty damn effectively. One hears so much of so much good that was just about to come. The closer is arty (the sax pretty effective – more '80s New Wave foreshadowing) but clunky, the risk of overreaching, one fears.

Not bad, but overcooked generally and never quite fully engages; \"My Mistakes\" is the most effective cut; \"The Meeting Place\" the most charming; \"Time Has Come Again\" the most effective; these are also the lushest cuts, which may or may not be a coincidence.

No real surprise this got exed in later editions as it's pretty dated, and standard issue "arent-we-just-the-coolest" edgy guitar rock from the early 2000s. Ballads work well, but everything else is forgettable, heard elsewhere, pretty templated, etc.

Butler is seriously underrated as a vocalist and frontman – he's got the essential indie rock voice. But the playing and instrumentation (especially some ace sax touches) and arrangements are all strong. "P in P" very much merited a movie named after it – what a hook, what a mix of the salty (Butler's sneering vocal) and sweet (the melody). "No Tears" and "She Is Mine" are also plus-plus tunes. A seriously underrated band, the Furs. Forever Now would also be worthy of inclusion on this list.

Driving and lively, fun and edgy. One likes how they expanded the punk palette a touch (with some twinkly keys [as on "Here Comes the Summer] and backing vocals [as on "Jump Boys {which sure sounds like it should be called "Drunk Boys"}] while keeping legit teeth and thrash on the guitars and appropriately sneery vocals. The content is dead on track, too – mostly girls and lots of emotions.

Not a foot put wrong here – not musically (many interesting beats) or morally (these cats are on the right side for sure) – but maybe too earnest and pedantic (and overreliant on newsy audio cuts). One enjoys and it still has some punch, but feels too close to PE in tone and Gil Scott Heron (like direct impression too close). Franti's best work lay ahead.

Easily the best French hip-hop record on this list. And largely a pleasure to listen to, especially the jazzier cuts.

Much more something than nothing, but maybe a bit too much of both everything and anything (e.g., studio chatter) to give the highest rating (largely because this probably didn’t have to be a double album). Still, there are 4-5 excellent songs and an equal number of very good ones. Overall, the feel is baroque, with a near overwhelming wave of melodies and hooks and ideas, and near endless filigree, and it's not unpleasant on balance, just exhausting after a time, with a certain sameyness too, given that there is so much of everything on every cut. Clearly less woulda been more, but one senses that TR wouldn't liklely have know where to draw the line. Perhaps it's equally a highly personalized and eccentric masterpiece, and an extended hang with a cool and somewhat goofy (and certainly self-involved) kid who has all the latest toys and isn’t afraid to use them (or show off how much he can do with them).

The best S&G because it's the best balanced between tunefulness and depth. Any records with both "America" and "Mrs. Robinson" will be a strong one, of course.

Dark and driving. Seemingly rockier and denser than Massive Attack but not all that different or better. And certainly nowhere near the art rock of MBV, say. “Neptune City” elevates and confirms this is music well suited to the gym and perhaps deep thinking work, less so a lovely summer day. “Flying” might be the best cut, the edgy banjo breakdown feeling Steve Reich-ish. And it goes on too long, starting to sound like soundtrack filler after a time.

Dark and driving. Seemingly rockier and denser than Massive Attack but not all that different or better. And certainly nowhere near the art rock of MBV, say. “Neptune City” elevates and confirms this is music well suited to the gym and perhaps deep thinking work, less so a lovely summer day. “Flying” might be the best cut, the edgy banjo breakdown feeling Steve Reich-ish. And it goes on too long, starting to sound like soundtrack filler after a time.

Exceedingly, and unexpectedly, strong, to such an extent that their big hit seems lame, like a different – and much lamer – band. "Sir Francis Drake" and "Quicksand" and "Sunlight" are terrific and the subtle "Ride the Wind" is a treasure and a great closer. The overall effect speaks to the full range of '60s options – from jug band vibes to jazz explorations to bubble gummy hooks to folkie think pieces.

Despite the relatively weak vocals, the record succeeds (and then some) based on the strength of the material, subtle playing and a certain authentic soulfulness. One prefers Fairport Convention overall and this can feel a little "austerity Britain" at times, despite landing an emotional and aesthetic punch.

Who cares about the backstory and/or accusations of cultural appropriation when the music is this resonant and organic and pleasurable. It was very much the thing that year or two and everyone seemed to listen to it all the time. One is tempted to add "authentic" but of course one isn't qualified to judge its alignment to the tradition, other than on the basis that it speaks to one's soul which is authenticity enough for any art form.

Straightforwardly decent but decidedly sub-transcendent. A very strange cover – what a sour smile from what looks to be a reluctant subject – and a strange choice to put the best and hookiest cut ("American Girl") at the end of the record.

Groovily atmospheric at times, with the retro-vintage feel and surf and rockabilly vibes of a cool-kid sort of projects. But both the jokes and sounds get samey after a time. They are still touring which may be as embarrassing for them as their fans.

Largely fun, mostly light, and a fairly original melange of punk, reggae and other sub-genres that were merging anyway. Slits contributed, yes, but not in any world-historical sense. "Grapevine" is quite good, if outright gimmicky. One is generally suspicious of acts praised for their fashion (or anti-fashion) sense) but in this case one feels it's appropriate to round up for the album cover.

One wonders what the kids today make of this? Would they like it? Get the jokes? The contemporary fan base likely overlaps with that of Beavis and Butthead, JackAss and other such crown jewels of our cultural inheritance. Sure, it's fun and entertaining, but also embarrassing – and very well should be, hugely so in fact, for those who listened unironically then or does so now (those numbers are probably much higher than the Beasties would like to know). For all the fun (Zeppelin and CCR hooks, Abe Vigoda name drops), the whole thing is so massively derivative, almost every beat, to more than justify the accusations of cultural appropriation. Somehow, they were just clever enough to make it different enough to appeal to knuckleheads who didn't know much (maybe any) better. Still, the quick wittedness and entitled 'tude don't quite make up for the fact that they received far more critical acclaim and commercial success than they deserved.

Extraordinary in multiple ways. The fit between songwriter and players/collaborators is near perfect, the attitude of the homage is respectful but authentically loose, with more than a little fun, plus tones of soul, exquisite melancholia, and powerful emotion. And for fans of Bragg, Wilco and 10kM's – what could be better? One can scarcely recall a record that felt as much like a museum piece, but was at once so entirely enjoyable (not to mention deeply and personally meaningful back in the day). Haven't listened for years, but it still feels spot-on, rich and lovely and deep.

Ponderous and way too long, this is a creaking dinosaur of a record. it was never going to age well and has not, indubitably.

Awesomely weird and wackily wonderful. Alternately mesmerizingly groovy and distractingly discordant, the whole thing works well and is well worth knowing.

Dreamy and dramatic and mostly wonderful. “Hidden Place” and “Cocoon” and “It’s Not Up to You” and “Pagan Poetry” are all excellent. And the overall feel is one of elevation. Hard to argue with the quality of something so excellent.

Much cooler – that is to say much less square than one expected.

Enjoyable but only in the broadest and most obvious kinda way.

Some pleasing moments, but more forgettable than danceable.

His best record after Rain Dogs, this feels like a template for it, with all the weird, one-eyed and fraying loveliness. "Town with No Cheer" and "Johnsburg, Illinois" and "In the Neighborhood" and "Rainbirds" are all very strong. Title cut is great, "Frank's Wild Years" is priceless (the small throat-clearings just spot on) and the rougher (if not quite raunchy) tunes also make a big impression.

One gets the feeling that the Bros G would have done anything to be stars (and likely did). But really the disco records are the legacy and should be here instead of either (or both) of this one and the spectacularly ill-conceived and overwrought Odessa. One gets the editors trying to open people's eyes to what came before they became the biggest group in the world. And the voices are heavenly, but the ambition is way too much and the end result no better than slightly-above average, amounting to oversweet, sentimental and way too showy – and thus unserious – '60s pop. The vibe is near-Countrypolitan here, faux-Liberace there. The strings and vibrato deliver such an impressive amount of sheer mawkisnhess that it's a wonder the studio didn't collapse. Air Supply feels pretty punk in comparison. And re the warbling on "Lion In Winter" – just WTF? Were they trying to be Dylan or Captain Beefheart or something? Not at all a good look for these cats.

Goth plays poppier today than it did in its heyday, even sort of innocent."Dominion" and "Lucretia" and "Flood II" and "Driven Like Snow" have few affectingly moody moments, but too often the synths and drum beats produce the opposite of deep or sinister – sounding tinny, canned, feckless. The backing vocals and chorale moments liven things up here and there, with a church-y feel but it all sounds like playacting. "This Corrosion" is "Louie, Louie" for the black lipstick set. "1959" is obviously a rip-off of Spinal Tap's "Lick My Love Pump," with piano by what sounds like a first-year student just done learning "Chopsticks." Edwards Scissorhands would be the Sisters' brother, no? The Cure would work out to be 5x the band. Rounding up only because of fond memories of a particular Goth lovely who was fond of this band.

Very good and quite cool tunes that helped break Britpop. Not necessarily world-changing but still sounds good and quite sharp. Maybe just a touch samey, but the effect is energizing throghout and a high level of quality maintained. Rounding up slightly because the angst seems authentic. Plus, the lads seemed likable (more so than Gallaghers at least, low bar though that is) and because this is in one's sweet spot. Also, Suede rates higher than Blur, which allowing for the latter's inflated reputation is saying something.

Gaudy and gleaming, this rocks a bit more than one would have expected from a boy band alum and a tabloid-y star, but anything remotely approaching soulful is buried under an excess of dubious effects pointed squarely at the mass market (and probably quite well researched, too). The mawkish "God's Better People" gives the game away. The world would be a better place if fewer people cared about such mass-produced/mass-marketed outputs as this or needy-reaching mediocrities as RW, who seems to want to be a celeb more than anything else. One pities those young people who might have been captivated however briefly (and one cetainly hopes it was brief) by all the soaring and reaching or thought it coudln't get any better or more meaningful. Really, who cares? Speaking as. a Yank, one's glad this was mainly an Anglo phenomenon, a British invasion that would have been pretty easily resisted. Mostly forgettable and totally disposable pop. Points off for ever being in an boy band.

Seems better suited to the "1,001 pieces of sonic wallpaper you must hear before you die" book, with the hearing most likely be in an elevator or other places where Muzak formerly reigned. Utterly forgettable.

One feels the need to take a shower after listening to this – feeling sleazy in seedy sin city, indeed. Still, there's a bit of lonely poetry here and there, probably accidental given all the pervy camp. Oy, are the synths dated, to the point that one struggles to remember if this was pre- or post-sexual revolution.

Arty and cool and interesting. One digs the tough sax. "The Bogus Man” and “Grey Lagoons” are highlights). Not as polished as the later work, mostly in a good way.

A characteristically regal performance – such depth of soul, such a fluid and credible way through all of the songs. Who knew she played the piano so well?

A mature record that works on several levels. There's some meaning and soul (no doubt down to her developing spirituality and the perspective of motherhood), but also fun and lively. Title track slaps, absolutely and there are a greater number of additional moments of depth and quality than perhaps her past led one to expect.

This is pretty easy to like as one can't much argue with the quality, musically and production-wise. It does feel the slightest bit forced and she sounds so very young, but good on her for being a groundbreaker. Best cut is one with De La boys.

Almost too much ... extremely, almost absurdly good by a unique and massive talent. Hard to say which is better Want One or Want Two. Both are rich, many-layered (again, almost too much) but compelling throughout. Rewards multiple listens.

Fun for about a minute. And that minute was decades ago. One would say "one-hit wonder" but there's a real deficit of wondrousness despite all maximalists layering. If only all the world was merely a night in a club ... with club kids ...

If this is a cult classic, it’s been graded on the curve. There’s very little magic to justify the reputation. He’s into it, he’s working hard. There are a few moments – especially the opening track, which is much more than a "nod" to Miles Davis, but a full-on heist of the bassline to "All Blues" – but it's mostly downhill from there. The lack of magic may result from trying too hard, see the utterly unconvincing "Gypsy Woman." One doesn't get the posthumous hype for this sorta-interesting, but mostly-just-okay artist. Whichever critic revived the reputation clearly wanted the glory or rediscovering someone. Maybe that critic lost out on the far more worthwhile and enjoyable Nick Drake.

Very good clean fun. Their freshening up of a certain timeless sort of West Coast vibe holds up so much better than so many more "original" records of the same era (looking at you Strokes, YYYs, DCFC!). They pull it off with aplomb – and a great deal of fun by fully embracing the playfulness of the homage (note the "end it" yelp at the end of the most excellent opener). They seem very much in on the joke and go over the top with a winning wink. Strings, glockenspiel (one thinks), Plus the cover suggests a relatable crew one would enjoy having a pint with. Not even having a cut on W's iPod takes away the charm.

Good fun all around, and notably tight and crisp playing and "Wednesday Week" is the best of the lot. "On the Boardwalk" musta seemed funny at the time. Though it set a template for much that was to come, it's not exactly life-changingly memorable.

What a record. Extraordinary playing throughout, with near-punk intensity on the early cuts and utter (and uniquely Irish) soulfulness enriching the mood. Title track is a fantastic opener and bleeds straight into "We Will Not Be Lovers" for a major power play, a sustained crescendo. "World Party" is great, too. The Yeats and Van homages are extremely well done. The second side dips a bit in power – how could it not? – but still offers charms aplenty ("Bang On the Ear" and "When Ye Go Away"). Has anyone ever used strings to better effect on a rock album? This is among the top few Irish albums of all time.

Such cute spunky kids – one misses having such energy, but also finds it somewhat exhausting. One prefers these guys to Arctic Monkeys and Green Day (by a lot). Perhaps a bit much of the same relentless tempo and perhaps a bit too shiny, too. The record gets better with the better cuts are backloaded after a more frenetic (a bit excessively so, depending on the listening context). Highest quality comes through "She's So Loose," "Sofa" and 2x "Time," the second of which, so Beatlesesque, one vaguely remembers from the day. "Alright" also considerably better than just that.

Tough and kinetic, often humorous. Continually performative. Samey in terms of tempo and repetitive in the vocal styles. Not all that interesting in the end. Best cut is "Who's the Mack" because of a track with varied instrumentation.

Every generation gets the CSN it deserve. Those who got FFs should consider themselves quite fortunate as this is interesting and elevating, fresh and original, thoughtful and often lovely, even soothing at times. One will never forget hearing "White Winter Hynmal" for the first time and it's not lost much of that impact or purity. it feels almost good for you to listen to it. The band may not have grown a lot on last several releases, but what they do, they do extremely well – and more wholesome-seemingly and affectingly than others in their peer group.

Fans will think it tough and tenacious, others tedious and turgid.

Oh so proggy, both in conception and in the band's regard for their own braininess, and love of complexity for its own sake and silly myth-making and world-building. No wonder they're the favored band among role-playing gamers. And why wouldn't they think themselves utterly brilliant when they can dish out such piercing political insight as "you can't have freedom for free"? One's sure the the rock critics association on the Federation of Solar Planets gave them nothing but five-star reviews! But not too proggy in their willingness to rock tightly in a few different modes and avoid ridiculous instrumentation and endless noodling in absurd time signatures. It's their ability to create rich moods and textures, alongside the odd killer hook that made them or at least saved them from being an outright joke or just nerds' favorite band. One enjoys much of this (probably a bit more than one should on the merits) being of an age that one can easily overlook Lee's endless shrieking, the foolish and tiresome politics, and the other proggy ptifalls..

Bjork is often appealing (already showing herself as one of a kind) and there are a few winning cuts – "Birthday" is a great song – but the other vocalist (Einar, one presumes) sounds very much like the joke the record was allegedly conceived as; his vocal impositions nearly squander the otherwise pretty cool "Deus" and "Sick with Toys." The band woulda been better off without him. The hype overwhelmed the actual goods here – this really shoulda been considered minor, such is the larkiness and predominant slightness (outside of just a few tunes), suggesting what was to come with future oversold Bjork efforts.

These cats knew exactly what they were doing and did it well and likably and tunefully. This is sensible, well-judged, well-mannered and well-made pop at a relatively high level.

This must've sounded incredibly fresh and strong and accomplished in '77. It sounds fairly old in '23, though it still holds undeniable power and real teeth, and one hears a bunch of bands this record informed and perhaps catalyzed.The effective layering of synths and the odd sax, plus the crisp to sharp-edgy driving guitars reflect the record's being quite well made, and much more mature than many of their punk brethren and pointing the way to the more thoughtful and sophisticated stylings of new wave -- again, clearly this was influential. “Peaches” and “Down in the Sewer” predict The Fall, for instance, and in a good way.

Tuneful and swinging, with enough melancholy and darkness to make it interesting. One doesn't know the band but is inspired to hear more and dig thru the "lost band" phase of their history, too. If there's a complaint, it's that it can be a bit too shiny (a la Elbow and Crowded House, two reasonable comps).

Old-time music done in old-timey fashion. Feels a bit out of place here, but a fine listen all the way around of course.

What a set of songs, what gaudy/grungy hooks so expertly executed. Page the wizardly puppet master here, Plant the high priest, or official Rock God. JPJ and Bonzo just rock-solid when necessary, and fluid and agile as need be. Hard to fathom the breadth and depth of skill and quality and power across this output, even if it's argubally 15-20% too long. "In the Light," Down by the Seaside" and "10 Years Gone" rank among the best-ever Zeppelin cuts and there are another 5-7 solid+ to very good songs. It all adds up to top marks, not only because this was one's favorite band as a teen and they seem to have even gotten better in the many years since one has listened to them regularly.

Hits still sound good but much of this feels like My Bloody Valentine-lite. One can hear the commoditization of indie and alt in the production choices, which aimed for a tight, sharp sound, but also made it all pretty innocuous. Did editors include this pretty undistinguished record for the same reason that one was originally attracted to this record in '95: because SM was hot and formidable? Come to think of it, that's probably why producers picked her to be Garbage front person?

So comfortable as to seem nearly easy listening – and that's not at all a bad thing. Light and lilting for relaxation and perfectly charming overall, if borderline anodyne at times. Every record on this list should start from such a baseline of inoffensiveness.

More premise than payoff. These are pleasant on the surface and the layerings and contrasts (club beats, gospel vocals) present some interest. But on subsequent listens they soften to the point of blandness and offer no depth or resolution other than their own shine, which seems a pretty generic sort of attraction. The hits were the hits and one remembers the moment, but it all feels quite generic now and its coming and going so inoffensively and non-compellingly makes perfect sense.

One likes to think of Spiritualized as Oasis' smarter, more reflective and less douche-y brothers. The dreaminess is the power, which builds slowly, through the layering and echoes and resonances, and only comes across fully on several listens. Floating through Space is the stronger record, straight-up, though one feels glad and grateful to be reminded how much one used to like this band. .

Not as overtly theatrical as Frank's Wild Years and not as accomplished musically as Rain Dogs but still decent and fully Waitsian. "Jersey Girl" is an all-time song. Strings get a bit much, "Ruby's Eyes" is mawkish, and the roughed-up edges are excessively frayed, too intentionally Bukowskian (if effective and a credible simulation). Still one would rather listen to a middling from Waits than the best of what approximately two-thirds of the other artists on this list can deliver.

Fairly fresh and spiky and energetic but grows a little tiresome after a time, with too many herbs and spices in an overbearing (also forgettable) stew one won't be particularly tempted to consume again anytime soon.

As far as power trios go, one will take the fierce agility and jazzy proclivities of this lot over the (frequently lumbering) blunderbuss that was Cream. So many delights here beyond the fully worthy headliners ("Little Wing" [which should be about six minutes longer] and "Spanish Castle Magic" and "Castles Made of Sand") – "Wait Until Tomorrow" and "One Rainy Wish" and "She's So Fine" (which admittedly sounds a different band [mainly due to the vocals]) each merits a full digging. As with Coltrane, there's real subtlety and understatedness within the ferocity – the combo of those qualities plus the the thumping rhythmic playing as foundation, is what made the music. And one finds JH an underrated singer besides. And bonus points for this being released the year of one's birth.

It is a bludgeon-y sort of blues. Beck’s axe can seem quite a blunt instrument at times, a blunderbuss even. Rod’s the right vocalist, for all his schmaltztastic tendencies. They sort of deserved each other. "Greensleeves" and "Bolero" are interesting additions, if a bit showy. "Morning Dew" is a fun listen, too, especially for Deadheads (reformed, recovering or otherwise). Later records are better however, when JB seems to have given up wanting so desperately to be a rock star and just played. One wonders what would have happened had Rod been sacrificed for more expansive and exploratory virtuosity -- it's JB's record after all. Ultimately, this record feels a little constrained by the mostly blues format, which must've felt tired even upon its release (though one supposes the kids couldn't quite get enough) and the likely commercial pressures.

Three E & B records is one too many, though one is generally a fan and their records have held up pretty well. This one takes some time to get going and is only saved from total mediocrity by the strong ending, especially "Gods Will Be Gods" and "Bluer Skies."

Two Chemical Bros' records are too many. Merging this and Dig Your Own Hole might justify one, in the eyes of the non-techno specialist. Dig is more aggressive and slightly more interesting (if only because the Beth O appearance is stronger), but 30 years on this is well past its "best by" – as editors surely recognize given the "had to be there" tone of their description of the CBs' rise at a speciflc club (such gatekeeping!). There are some moments here, but mostly we're in historical artifact (and probably soon to be historical footnote) territory. Though she does her best, not even Beth O can save this from basic averageness.

Hooky, irreverent and fun. This is one's punk/hardcore faves. The political and social satire, while biting and a worth a laugh, isn't exactly piercing or multidimensional, Swiftian in design (at least on the opener) more than effect. But what they gain in humor, they lose in the playing; it's too one-note musically to rate much higher. The Elvis cover is perfectly wonderful, but indicates just how seriously this was to be taken ... or how far it could go.

Strong and steady throughout. Hucknall puts his distinct voice to very good effect across the cuts, the best of which are "Come to My Aid," "Jericho" and "Heaven" and "Holding the Back Years," which will have a long shelf life and history will continue to like – it just sounds like a song that will last forever. Overall, it holds up quite well (sophistication always does, doesn't it, when supported by tight and capable playing) and only here and there veers too annoyingly or eye-rollingly into ultimate '80s territory.

Extraordinary. A true hidden classic. The first four tracks are excellent and fully engaging and then ends very strong indeed. Beautifully conceived, skillfully executed.

Lousy with masterpieces, this record more or less seals the deal on their being the best pure rock band of all time. What a canon, I-IV, unparalleled for quality in conception and ferocity in execution (except where tenderness was the goal). Here, the power of the hooks, the fundamentals working so seamlessly and performing at such a peak can seem overwhelming. Could the band do no wrong, commit no mediocrity? Plus, the diversity and texture – "Battle for Evermore" and "Going to California" offer variation and respite from the heavy infantry, but are finessed to near perfection on their own terms (especially the gorgeous yearning of the latter, perfectly balancing melancholia and optimism, the search for worthy satisfactions. Not only not an ill note played in the entirety, but not an instant of filler, it all pertains and matters with some intensity. “Stairway to Heaven” is the ultimate rock cliche, but sustains its majesty; listening with fresh ears (and a non-ironic posture), one hears understatement (not the most frequent Zeppelinesque quality) in the solo, and the first hints of the jangly indie rock ears. The structure is magisterial, symphonic. “Levee Breaks” is a solid closer, and holds well with the classics all about. The best singer, the best guitarist, mad-genius composer and a unimpeachable, granitic rhythm section – they had the goods and delivered time and again. It was once one's favorite band. One's long since left the genre behind, but this remains, an unadulterated classic.

A singular achievement, almost monolithic in its quality. There is ample excellence on display and a great deal of excellence, thought it can be tricky to tell them apart after a time, what with the somewhat samey strings on every song and a blueprint-similar vocal style, too). Obviously, SS is a massive talent; one wonders if he's always applied it to optimal effect.

A near ideal mix of the driving and dreamy, but across and within cuts. The transition from minimalist beginnings to baroque bodies and endings on many tracks ‘tis wondrous strange. Even as you want to move, this is music that gets in your head. Just excellently interesting. Opens intriguigingly and closes most compellingly.

Plays a little thin, if pleasingly. There are compelling moments, but they don't last. And it really asks to be taken more seriously than it merits.