1001 Albums Summary

Sgt. Pepper remains one of The Beatles’ most impactful artistic achievements, as a landmark in the development of art rock, a predecessor to the progressive rock movement, and as a defining moment in 1960s pop culture. Sgt. Pepper finds the Fab Four melding brilliant pastiches of circus, music hall, avant-garde, and classical (both Western and Eastern) with an overwhelming sense of optimism and empowerment which heralded the impending Summer of Love and managed to bridge the gap between popular music and high art. The influence of this record is still felt today, even in ways which may not seem so obvious at first, such as the revolutionary usage of sound effects and tape manipulation, innovations in graphic design, the use of cyclic form in popular music, and advancing the importance of the producer. This is a record which managed to define and shape its era. It stands the test of time as an important and effective work of art, while also remaining fun, listenable, and lively. The instrumentation is rich and expressive, and it is an absolute joy to experience the multifaceted music of The Beatles, whether it be Paul’s pristine pop sensibilities, John’s inner monologues, George’s experimentalism, or Ringo’s happy-go-lucky whimsicality.

I tend to be wary of progressive rock, as ostentatious noodling and cosmic lyricism tend to throw me off. What I like about the genre are its challenging compositions and virtuosic instrumentalism, but it’s a fine line between impressive and gaudy. I was pleasantly surprised by this record, although I could’ve done without most of the shorter songs. My favorite tracks, easily, are the three big ones which take up more than half the runtime: Roundabout, South Side of the Sky, and Heart of the Sunrise. Yes, the lyricism is primarily comprised of otherworldly gobbledygook, but it’s mostly unobtrusive. Yes, the group can occasionally wade into showy grandiosity, but for the most part they manage to keep it relatively tame. In the end, there’s more to like than there isn’t. Plenty of lush melodies, pleasing harmonies, and high-octane riffing satisfy the music lover in me, and the kick-ass guitar/bass combo of Steve Howe and Chris Squier will keep me coming back.

For a supposed progressive rock group, Muse manages to come off as quite a superficial bunch. Every song here follows a formula, which wouldn’t be an issue if the formula were compelling, but it isn’t. Very few of these tunes are catchy, and even fewer interesting. The music is bombastic and decidedly safe, almost distractingly so, and the lyrics are humdrum bullshit. They want to make a political statement, but the best they can muster is jejune blather about fighting corruption, fighting for your rights, fighting the establishment, fighting for what? Freedom, of course. If you’d ever wondered what The Vines would sound like if they ventured into space, look no further. This sort of vapid, milk-and-water nonsense might appeal to you if you’re the sort of person that likes corporate dad rock, but if you can’t dig it, steer clear.

There is a formidable sense of chaos to be found on this record. The raw, bare bones production amplifies the primal force of nature that is Iggy & friends. This results in a definitive work of American rock, as influential as it is impassioned. Iggy is a caged animal, a howling, screeching banshee. As a vocalist, his ferocity is unmatched. The band employs a manic, frontal assault. The rhythm thumps and pulses like a heartbeat, Ron Asheton’s guitar slashes and shrieks, Steve Mackay’s fervent saxophone adds a key element to the anarchic atmosphere. This is hard rock at its dirtiest, imposing and calculated bedlam fueled by the raw power of the godfathers of punk. It kicks down the door and announces itself, gives no quarter and takes no shit. It is hedonistic, unrestrained, and completely exhilarating.