I saw The Rolling Stones in 1997 on the Bridges to Babylon tour. My mom took me and my brother to Giants Stadium for the show. I was 16 and had only been to a few concerts prior. This concert stood out to me, if only because of the sheer number of inebriated middle aged people I was witness to. I don’t know if you ever been in a place with 70,000 drunken 50 year olds at 16, but it’s an experience. No exaggeration…because I wasn’t old enough to drink, I immediately became one of the most responsible people in attendance. For further context, I had been to separate concerts by Metallica and Pantera within a year of this Stones concert and for the first time I was legitimately concerned about something seriously bad happening at a concert. These Stones fans were out of control. Here’s two examples: Giants stadium, like every other football stadium on earth is essentially a bowl. Our seats were in the nosebleeds: on the third level and about 1/4 of the way up. Let’s say row 8 of 32. Not great seats, but also not the worst. A few minutes prior to the Stones’ set, and shortly after the Foo Fighters had finished, a man began making his way back to his seats (two rows in front of mine) after returning from the concession stand. He was drunkenly balancing a cardboard drink tray with 4 very large plastic glasses of beer in it and not doing it very well. His seats were in the middle of the row, so he had to navigate around about a dozen concertgoers, in the cramped walkway, to reach his destination. Well, about four people in, he lost his balance and fell, sliding down over three rows of seated people and sending his four beers flying into the air, drenching probably a dozen people in Bud Light. Luckily, the drunk and the half dozen people he fell on/over all ended up being ok. That was death-defying act number one. Number two occurred shortly before the end of the concert: If you’ve been to a stadium concert, you know they usually don’t sell seats behind the stage, because, well…no one wants to pay to watch the back of the band. Turns out there’s another good reason for that as well…. As the band was nearing the end of their set, my mother pointed to the area behind the stage, in the upper bowl of the stadium, and said “look, there’s somebody up there behind the stage. What’s he doing up there?” I watched the guy intently, thinking maybe he was a stage hand or maybe he was also so drunk that he would fall down the upper level of the stadium as well, but this time there would be no other concertgoers around to slow his descent. About a minute in, I see a few security guards quickly approaching the man, and what looks like an argument ensues. The man doesn’t seem to care about the security guard’s directives, but eventually, they grab him and remove him from the area. As they are escorting him down the stairs of the upper level - Mick says “this is our last song”, the band launches in to “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and a massive barrage of fireworks launches from behind the stage, almost exactly where the drunk was hanging out a minute prior. Those security guards likely saved this guy from a pretty serious trip to the hospital and did so right in the nick of time. “So what does this have to do with Beggars Banquet?”, you’re probably thinking. Honestly, not much…It’s just a Rolling Stones anecdote I needed put out into the world, but I’ll tie it together any way: Beggars Banquet is arguably the first record where the Stones became the band that everyone knows today: they found their blues, country and honky tonk swagger, solidifying their status as a band that’s synonymous with the hard-partying rock and roll lifestyle. So, without a record like Beggar’s Banquet, I may not have ever experienced the accidental near-deaths of two 50 year old drunks in 1997, and in turn, you wouldn’t be here reading about it. It’s truly a rock and roll version of the butterfly effect.

46 days in and I’m beginning to think the 1001 Album Generator is tracking my internet history. Less than 12 hours before this album was “randomly generated” for me, I was watching a 1996 Sonic Youth live performance from Germany on YouTube. This suggests two grim possibilities: Either the developers of this website have entered into a nefarious pact with Google and are tracking my browsing history (god help them if they are) and then recommending albums… OR …I am becoming one with the Generator; its decisions influencing my choices and my choices influencing its decisions: a bio-mechanical cerebral cortex, decaying in a feedback loop. If Sonic Youth are, in fact, a conduit for The Singularity, would anyone be surprised? Their guitar squall and reckless abandon would make a fitting soundtrack to the technological apocalypse. Rating: SEVEN! out of 5

I know people love it, but 80’s production is insufferable to me. The reverb, drum sounds, the focus on everything sounding clean and pristine. Early digital synthesis feels so cold and lifeless when compared to the analog synthesizers of 70’s. I can’t help but think of David Brent’s dance for charity in series 2 of The Office as Poison Arrow plays. Scratch that, you could probably sync that scene up with most of the tracks on this record. I have the feeling David Brent would love this record, so take that as an endorsement…maybe?

As a Brian Eno fan, I’ve heard and enjoyed the first two Roxy records, but they never really made their way in my rotation, aside from a few songs hear and there. Never really took the time to listen to Roxy Music without Eno until now (except for Avalon, which I do not care for). Country Life is a solid and enjoyable art-rock record with some fantastic high points. Opener “The Thrill of It All” goes hard out of the gate and feels a bit like a sister song to “Remake/Re-Model” from their debut. If you’ll excuse the comparison, “All I Want is You” has a Bowie-esque swagger that sits comfortably between Bowie’s glam-era and plastic soul-era and probably had some influence. Things get psychedelic and funky on “Out of the Blue”. “Prairie Rose” closes things out in style with slide guitars, funky bass and horns and great double tracked guitar solo courtesy of Phil Manzanera. The album dips in the middle for me. There are excursions into boogie rock, medieval tinged prog and some shouting in German that don’t really work for me, but the band’s playing and ability still carries the songs well. I don’t consider them bad songs, by any means…just not for me. This record is a high 3/5 for me, but I’m rounding up today, so let’s call it a 4. RIYL: Bowie circa Aladdin Sane/Diamond Dogs, Brian Eno’s “Here Come the Warm Jets”.

Naming the first track on your record “Set Controls for the Heart of the Pelvis” is statement. Of what, I’m not entirely sure, but it’s cool that he got Austin Powers to do a guest vocal. If you like the electronic lounge-pop of bands like Air and Stereolab, but wish they did it with a less deft touch, Oedipus Schmoedipus’ first few tracks might be for you. Perhaps you prefer Lynchian horror soundscapes, might I direct you to “It’s Business as Usual” or “Dirty Barry”? Coincidentally, “Something Wicked This Way Comes” appears in “Lost Highway” - it took me a minute to figure where I had heard it before. Speaking of David Lynch, the overtly digital jazz on “Miles” could’ve earned a spot in Mulholland Drive, perhaps as the soundtrack for the dance sequence on the soundstage of “The Sylvia North Story”. I’m doing my best with this one, but fuck me, it’s taxing. I mean, I could talk about David Lynch all day, but he’s not the focus here. A few days ago, in a review of Red Snapper’s “Our Aim is to Satisfy”, I bemoaned the list maker’s inclusion of albums for the late 90’s and early aughts that haven’t aged particularly well. Add this record to that pile. Not that this record doesn’t have its moments, but I suspect having a high tolerance for film noir-cheese is a requirement for full enjoyment. If you spend your evenings skulking around dimly lit alleys in a trench coat…boy, have I got an album for you. If you’re still reading this after all my shit-talk, let me recommend 3 records that occupy a similar musical space to Oedipus Schmoedipus, that have held up well and are actually worth hearing before you die. Two of the three, shockingly, are not included on the 1001 albums list: Air - The Virgin Suicides Stereolab - Dots & Loops (possibly the most egregious exclusion from the list) Tortoise - TNT (another glaring omission, imo) Or, you could just watch a David Lynch film or two.

Long time Roots fan, but this was an album I never really revisited frequently. When it was released it was seen as a departure - and rightly so, it is radically different from Thing Fall Apart. Looking back at it now, it’s kind of a blueprint for where the Roots would go in the 21st Century. Though The Roots hit higher high’s on subsequent records (like Game Theory and Undun), Phrenology gets a lot right. It’s a bit like a classic rock double album gone hip-hop. Stylistically varied, with the first half of the record focusing on more traditional songs/structures and an experimental (yet accessible) second half. Glad to revisit this one, it’s given me a new appreciation for a record that I overlooked/under-appreciated.

Stone cold classic.

Was not expecting to rate it this high, but this record is so out of control and unique that I have to give it a 5. Give it up for Todd Rundgren, because this is a psychedelic masterpiece.

1001 Albums To Never Hear Again Before You Die Chapter 1 - Led Zeppelin IV (Zoso, if you’re nasty) Dear Reader, In this first installment, I’ll ask you some baseline questions in order to gauge your eligibility for opting out of this album permanently: 1. Do you often find yourself in relationships (romantic or otherwise) with people you know are no good for you? If you answered no, do you enjoy feeding stray dogs? (Black Dog) 2. Are you partial to American made luxury cars?(Rock and Roll) 3. Do you like songs about hobbits and get amped up by J.R.R Tolkien and/or weed references? (Battle of Evermore, Misty Mountain Hop) 4. Would you like to reminisce about the time you got a chubby while slow dancing with your crush at your 8th grade dinner dance? (Stairway to Heaven) 5. Do you have a predilection for drum circles and a high tolerance for the phrase “oh, baby”? (Four Sticks) 6. Have you ever wondered what a Joni Mitchell song about wanting to sleep with Joni Mitchell would sound like? (Going to California - Give Zep some credit here, they were doing meta in 1971…truly innovative.) 7. Have you ever taken Quaaludes and tried to write a blues song? (When The Levee Breaks) Now, you’re probably asking yourself “how are these questions going to determine if I never have to listen to Led Zeppelin IV ever again?” The short answer is…they’re not. The truth is, you probably don’t ever need to hear this album again. You’ve probably already heard more than half of it on the radio/commercials/films/tv shows, or you’ve heard it in full hanging out at your weed guy’s apartment, or from an older relative who thinks it’s the pinnacle of mankind’s achievements in recorded music. But, if you find yourself enthralled by the prospect finding out the answers to the questions posed earlier, by all means, revisit this record. It’s actually pretty good.

I know people love it, but 80’s production is insufferable to me. The reverb, drum sounds, the focus on everything sounding clean and pristine. Early digital synthesis feels so cold and lifeless when compared to the analog synthesizers of 70’s. I can’t help but think of David Brent’s dance for charity in series 2 of The Office as Poison Arrow plays. Scratch that, you could probably sync that scene up with most of the tracks on this record. I have the feeling David Brent would love this record, so take that as an endorsement…maybe?

Aggressive, Fuzzed out alt-rock of the highest order. Dry could be released today and still sound fresh. Great record.

Big Beats are the best. Get high all the time.

The wheels are falling off the Morrison Express and the Doors are trying their damndest to keep it on the tracks - they’re playing tighter than ever before on this record. The result is a dichotomy of a hyper-focused, tight band playing around a guy who is clearly inebriated, incoherent and often shouting. Shout out to Tom Scharpling (The Best Show) for pointing out how distant Morrison’s vocals sound in Love Her Madly, as though he was feet away from the mic when it was recorded. I will never be able to listen to this song again without the image of Jim Morrison laying down the vocals while on toilet. We all know the hits, and they’re very good, even if you include Jim Morrison singing Love Her Madly on the toilet - I actually think it’s one of the Door’s best songs. LA Woman and Riders on the Storm are fantastic and deserve their status as classic rock staples. Unfortunately, a lot of this record just isn’t very memorable. If you enjoy blues/boogie-rock you’ll probably enjoy it, but for me, that gets boring fast. L’America halts any momentum and goodwill the band had from LA Woman. If the intent of that song is to mimic the descent into madness… well, congratulations, it made feel me feel like I was losing my mind. Hyacinth House is middling, but slightly redeems itself with some fan service in the form of a reference to The End. Apparently, this was actually the song with the bathroom recorded vocals - “I see the bathroom is clear”. Forgive my ignorance of Jim Morrison’s toilet singing habits. Earlier this week, I was given Nirvana’s In Utero to listen to by this fine website and my feelings on that album are similar to this one. If this wasn’t the final release from a beloved musician, would it be remembered as fondly as it is now? My guess in both cases is…probably not. They’re both solid albums, but neither reach the level of “all time greats”.

Solid late 60’s psych/garage. Definitely of its time. Fans of The Velvet Underground and Can will probably find something to like here, especially of the more garage-y tracks like ‘Seven and Seven Is’ and the side long ‘Revelation’.

Does Elvis Costello get paid by the word? He crams a lot of words into these songs and I’m not sure most of them are needed. In that spirit, a quick and to-the-point track by track review: Uncomplicated - No. I Hope Your Happy Now - Solid power pop, this would’ve made a better opener than Uncomplicated. Tokyo Storm Warning- Six minutes is way too long for this. Home is Anywhere You Hang Your Head - That got awfully pretty towards the end. I Want You - This is basically a Summerteeth-era Wilco track, no? Never really made the connection between Jeff Tweedy/Wilco and Elvis Costello, but holy shit, this had to be an influence on his vocals. Honey Are You Straight or Are You Blind? - Thank god this was only two minutes. What an obnoxious riff. Blue Chair - I can not unhear the similarities in the vocal stylings of Costello and Jeff Tweedy now. Battered Old Bird - “he’s a battered old bird and he’s alivadupalellwerlllll.” This song sucks. Crimes of Paris - This is what I was expecting from an Elvis Costello record. Relatively straight forward power pop. Poor Napoleon- “She called you her magic fingers”. This is what happens when you get paid by the word. You come up with terrible metaphors…ones that should still haunt their author 36 years after being forced upon the world. Next Time Around - another pretty standard power pop number, REM’s “Stand” bears a striking resemblance to the chorus of this song.

Belle and Sebastian are a band that, frankly, should’ve graced my eardrums much earlier than 2022. I’m a huge Matador Records fan, and I love a lot of their contemporaries - Yo La Tengo and Stereolab for starters. They were always on my periphery, but I never really took the time to listen. I think I probably fell victim to the stereotype on this one - that they are/were exceedingly twee. Not gonna lie, they kind of are, but Tigermilk is still a fantastic record, especially if you love 60’s psych/pop filtered through the lens of 90’s indie rock. The production is great, the songs are well crafted and to the point, the instrumentation is varied and impeccably played. This is a really great record and I’m disappointed in myself for not giving Belle and Sebastian a chance before now. RIYL: Yo La Tengo’s “Fakebook”, Stereolab, The Shin’s “Oh, Inverted World”

Big Star didn’t end. It imploded. Third is its wake.

As a Brian Eno fan, I’ve heard and enjoyed the first two Roxy records, but they never really made their way in my rotation, aside from a few songs hear and there. Never really took the time to listen to Roxy Music without Eno until now (except for Avalon, which I do not care for). Country Life is a solid and enjoyable art-rock record with some fantastic high points. Opener “The Thrill of It All” goes hard out of the gate and feels a bit like a sister song to “Remake/Re-Model” from their debut. If you’ll excuse the comparison, “All I Want is You” has a Bowie-esque swagger that sits comfortably between Bowie’s glam-era and plastic soul-era and probably had some influence. Things get psychedelic and funky on “Out of the Blue”. “Prairie Rose” closes things out in style with slide guitars, funky bass and horns and great double tracked guitar solo courtesy of Phil Manzanera. The album dips in the middle for me. There are excursions into boogie rock, medieval tinged prog and some shouting in German that don’t really work for me, but the band’s playing and ability still carries the songs well. I don’t consider them bad songs, by any means…just not for me. This record is a high 3/5 for me, but I’m rounding up today, so let’s call it a 4. RIYL: Bowie circa Aladdin Sane/Diamond Dogs, Brian Eno’s “Here Come the Warm Jets”.

Nightmare Fuel. Recommended for fans of Sonic Youth, Ween’s pre-Chocolate and Cheese albums, LSD

Hobbit Rock made by actual hobbits.

Things kick off on a high note with “That Lady, Parts 1&2”, a rockin’ slab of funk propelled by a phased out, fuzzy guitar lead. It’s no coincidence this song was chosen as an opener, you can tell it’s a hit from the opening guitar riff. However, immediately after, the album veers into more traditional mid-tempo R&B territory for the next 3 tracks. It’s kind of a jarring change of pace. The songs are not bad, but the difference in energy between That Lady and these tracks is palpable. The pace picks up again with a funky, clavinet heavy cover of the Doobie Brothers “Listen to the Music”, “What It Comes Down To”, and the dark and funky “Sunshine (Go Away Today)”. A cover of Seals and Croft’s “Summer Breeze” turns up next. Like “That Lady”, it’s noted as “Parts 1&2” which really just means they’re going to stretch out the groove at the end and give us some more of that sweet, sweet fuzz guitar. Unfortunately, that section of the doesn’t last quite long enough and the song begins fading out about a minute before it should’ve. “The Highways of My Life” a laid back, soulful tune ends the record well, but I can’t help feel like this record could’ve been greater. When the band leans into a slightly more aggressive style of play and dips their toes in psychedelia, they’re at their best on 3+3, imo. Fittingly, a “3” out of 5.

An editorial note: 32 records into this assignment, and I’ve encountered the first band I have legitimately never heard of. Like…nothing at all. I can’t recall ever: reading a review of this band (and I used to read A LOT of Mojo during the time this record was released) or seeing a poster for one of their records or seeing their name on a festival bill. Before today, I had no idea they existed. For the first time on this journey, I’m a clean slate, tabula rasa, no preconceived notions. (Drops the virtual needle on “Our Aim is to Satisfy”) … (Lifts the virtual needle during the second track) Ok. There’s something I gotta get off my chest and I’m sure I’m not the first to make this observation: One of the problems with this is list (the original from 2005 in particular) is that the albums that were chosen from the late 90’s/early aughts didn’t have a chance to age before being given the accolade of “record you must hear before you die” the same way older records did. So yeah, 5 years after this was released it might’ve been essential listening. 22 years later? I guess we’ll see. (Drops the virtual needle again) … … (Removes headphones…record still playing faintly in the background) I’m on “The Rough and the Quick” now. If you’ve heard this record, you know exactly why i had to take a quick break - I’m laughing hysterically. That was the most unexpected verse I’ve heard in a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I applaud the sentiment - Dudes, it’s important to reciprocate and satisfy your partner. I just wasn’t expecting something so explicit and couched in zero metaphor. Back to the music. (Puts headphones back on) …. …. (Record ends) That wasn’t a bad record. It wasn’t a great record either. It was very of-its-time and didn’t really transcend beyond that. If you’re looking for a record that captures the feel of an era, I think this does that well. But as I said earlier, I think there’s some recency bias going on with a lot of the records from the 2000’s on the original list. Let me put it this way: Red Snapper put out a good record. However, including “Our Aim is to Satisfy”, while excluding a record like DJ Shadow’s “The Private Press” from 2002, which occupies a similar space, holds up better and is a more rewarding listen doesn’t add up to me.

Solid VU/Modern Lovers-ish alt rock. If you were alive in the 90’s, you’ve heard at least one of these songs before. Would probably make a good summer cookout record with your punk-ish friends. RIYL: Not cleaning your room, microwaved Taquitos, Mountain Dew.

The internet is a blessing and a curse - it allows you to curate the media you consume in such a way that you can almost entirely tune out cultural zeitgeist and get lost in the things you enjoy. You can create a world where popular music doesn’t exist and when you turn on your 21st century equivalent of the “radio” (cellphone/streaming service) you hear your own personalized greatest hits. In many ways, it’s a beautiful thing, to me. In 2022, I don’t need to go into reasons why it’s a negative to create a internet bubble where you only hear what you want to hear. We know that situation all too well and have to deal with it from politicians, family members, co-workers. I am guilty of the first: I don’t have any interest in popular music. The vast majority of it has very little value to me, in terms of creativity or longevity. It’s meant to appeal to as many people as possible and be disposable. As such, I’ve managed to live in a music bubble where it’s rare that a popular artist like Adele permeates my auditory sphere. Don’t get me wrong, I know who Adele is and I’ve heard at least one of her songs in passing or when visiting friends/family or shopping at Target. But I don’t pay attention to it, because, well…I don’t really have any interest it. Look, I’m laying it all out on the line. This who I am. I’m aware of it, and try as I might, I can’t change that. My name is Dan, and I am a horrible music snob. The best I can do is admit when I’m wrong. Adele’s 21 is a very good record. Her voice is exceptional, the songs are well written and expertly played. It’s soulful, funky and emotionally resonant. I’m not sure you could ask for more from a pop record. I don’t find it to be an especially challenging or life changing record, but on this Saturday morning in mid-August 2022, it’s a pop record that worked for me, the horrible music snob, and I feel that is worth documenting.

Naming the first track on your record “Set Controls for the Heart of the Pelvis” is statement. Of what, I’m not entirely sure, but it’s cool that he got Austin Powers to do a guest vocal. If you like the electronic lounge-pop of bands like Air and Stereolab, but wish they did it with a less deft touch, Oedipus Schmoedipus’ first few tracks might be for you. Perhaps you prefer Lynchian horror soundscapes, might I direct you to “It’s Business as Usual” or “Dirty Barry”? Coincidentally, “Something Wicked This Way Comes” appears in “Lost Highway” - it took me a minute to figure where I had heard it before. Speaking of David Lynch, the overtly digital jazz on “Miles” could’ve earned a spot in Mulholland Drive, perhaps as the soundtrack for the dance sequence on the soundstage of “The Sylvia North Story”. I’m doing my best with this one, but fuck me, it’s taxing. I mean, I could talk about David Lynch all day, but he’s not the focus here. A few days ago, in a review of Red Snapper’s “Our Aim is to Satisfy”, I bemoaned the list maker’s inclusion of albums for the late 90’s and early aughts that haven’t aged particularly well. Add this record to that pile. Not that this record doesn’t have its moments, but I suspect having a high tolerance for film noir-cheese is a requirement for full enjoyment. If you spend your evenings skulking around dimly lit alleys in a trench coat…boy, have I got an album for you. If you’re still reading this after all my shit-talk, let me recommend 3 records that occupy a similar musical space to Oedipus Schmoedipus, that have held up well and are actually worth hearing before you die. Two of the three, shockingly, are not included on the 1001 albums list: Air - The Virgin Suicides Stereolab - Dots & Loops (possibly the most egregious exclusion from the list) Tortoise - TNT (another glaring omission, imo) Or, you could just watch a David Lynch film or two.

It may be an unpopular opinion among Wilco fans, but it’s a hill I’m willing to die on: Wilco was at its best and most interesting when Jay Bennett was in the band. No disrespect to Jeff Tweedy intended, I don’t mean to imply that Jay was the mastermind of the band, not at all. Just that his playing on albums like Summerteeth and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot complimented the songs extremely well. To me, his ability to create an atmosphere with his playing was an important part in the greatness of those records. For me, the post-YHF records don’t have that same sort of cohesion, at least not as much as the records with Jay did - even if the band was reaching a boiling point while he was a member. So yeah, I like Being There. I have a hard time with double albums: I find they’re often too bulky to keep my attention, and Being There isn’t an exception, but taken in chunks, it’s enjoyable. As a whole, Being There doesn’t quite match the heights of Summerteeth (please tell me that record made the list) or Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but it’s a bit of a blueprint for those two records: experimental and stylistically varied, with the right mix of upbeat songs and melancholia to keep it from feeling too same-y.

Trying to go in with an open mind, here. I was an American teenager when Oasis-mania originally hit in the 90’s - all about that grunge. Didn’t care for Oasis much at the time, they always struck me as nothing more than the sum of their influences, but I only knew the singles. We’ll see how accurate that take is. “Hello” opens things up nicely and has some restrained guitar noise at the end. Good opener. “Roll with it” - Ah, there’s the Beatles aping I was expecting. Pleasant enough, but if I want I Beatles fix, I’ll just listen to the Beatles. Know what I mean? I guess that was always my problem with Oasis. They were a little too on the nose with their Beatles worship - almost gets to the point of parody, in its own way. Anyway, here’s “Wonderwall”. “Don’t Look Back in Anger” - Speaking of on the nose…“I’m gonna start a revolution from my bed” is apparently lifted from cassette recordings of John Lennon taken at the Dakota Hotel. That’s kind of cool, I guess…but after this, I’m going to “Look Back in Anger” and throw on Bowie’s Lodger. “Hey Now!” - a real missed-opportunity not getting Hank Kingsley to guest on this track. So far the tracks on this record, while not necessarily my cup, have been strong. This is the first one that doesn’t do much for me. Nearly 6 minutes is too long for this. “Untitled (1)” - 44 seconds of space-y blues rock. Unnecessary. “Some Might Say” - wherein Oasis tries to give Teenage Fanclub a run for their money. You know what some might say? “This one goes on too long, bruh.” “Cast No Shadow” - yeah, I figured out what it is about this band that doesn’t sit well with me. It’s Liam Gallagher’s vocals: his delivery, moreso than his actual voice. He does this thing a lot (which you can hear at the start of the track). Where the emphasis on words is weird “ HERE’S a THOUGHT for EVERY man WHO….”. It grates, after a while. This song also goes too long. I swear, I like long songs, but so far the long songs on this record aren’t justifying their 5+ minute lengths they just kind of repeat the same thing over and over. “She’s Electric” - this chorus sounds exactly like a Beatles song, but I can’t put my finger on which one. “Morning Glory” - A bit of a Ride vibe on this one with the swirling guitar noise and propulsive beat. My favorite so far, even if the guitar line reminds me of REM’s “The One I Love”. Untitled (2) kind of a rehash of the the first Untitled, but with a more experimental tilt, waves crash into… “Champaign Supernova”, which is a fine track. I like these songs better when the band is going off. As said earlier, they kind of have a Ride-ish shoegaze vibe when the guitars get going and they lock into a groove, but by the end of this record, I’m finding Liam Gallagher to be very off-putting as a singer. I think what made Oasis successful is that they managed to take a lot of pieces from what was going on concurrently in UK music and kind of make into their own with a big nod to the Beatles. I get why they were popular, but they’re a group that I find difficult to separate the band from their influences.

The author of this list seems to have a real soft spot for records that ended up being an artist’s final record before their tragic death. 40 records in to this exercise and I’ve been given a few already. While often an important document of the waning days of an artist, albums like this are not always the best representation of the artist’s output and often gain mythological status solely for being the last thing they put out before they died. Figure 8 feels like it was included because it was Elliot Smith’s final record before taking his own life and not necessarily because it’s one of the Elliot Smith records you should hear before you die. I think ”XO” from 1998 would be a better inclusion, in that case. Don’t get me wrong, Figure 8 is a good record. The songs are all well crafted, with expansive instrumentation and nicely layered vocal harmonies. Compared to XO, Figure 8 has a bit more of edge compared to its predecessor with more distorted guitar, and a darker, more blunt lyrical theme. XO, ultimately, is a more enjoyable record. Its songwriting is more concise and memorable. Figure 8 kind has a sprawling feel - a lot of ground travelled, but you still end up in the same place: unknown, yet entirely familiar. Fittingly, it reminds me of traveling in the city it was recorded, Los Angeles: There dozens of neighborhoods that make up Los Angeles, all with their own traits, yet very much the same. Figure 8 takes its time in navigating its sprawl, in the same way that traveling Los Angeles by car can be so time consuming. I’m not sure I landed that analogy properly. Going back to my original point, this isn’t the Elliot Smith record I’d recommend to a newcomer, Either/Or and XO make better starting points. I would save Figure 8 for last. Sometimes the last record an artist put out is the last one you should hear.

I saw The Rolling Stones in 1997 on the Bridges to Babylon tour. My mom took me and my brother to Giants Stadium for the show. I was 16 and had only been to a few concerts prior. This concert stood out to me, if only because of the sheer number of inebriated middle aged people I was witness to. I don’t know if you ever been in a place with 70,000 drunken 50 year olds at 16, but it’s an experience. No exaggeration…because I wasn’t old enough to drink, I immediately became one of the most responsible people in attendance. For further context, I had been to separate concerts by Metallica and Pantera within a year of this Stones concert and for the first time I was legitimately concerned about something seriously bad happening at a concert. These Stones fans were out of control. Here’s two examples: Giants stadium, like every other football stadium on earth is essentially a bowl. Our seats were in the nosebleeds: on the third level and about 1/4 of the way up. Let’s say row 8 of 32. Not great seats, but also not the worst. A few minutes prior to the Stones’ set, and shortly after the Foo Fighters had finished, a man began making his way back to his seats (two rows in front of mine) after returning from the concession stand. He was drunkenly balancing a cardboard drink tray with 4 very large plastic glasses of beer in it and not doing it very well. His seats were in the middle of the row, so he had to navigate around about a dozen concertgoers, in the cramped walkway, to reach his destination. Well, about four people in, he lost his balance and fell, sliding down over three rows of seated people and sending his four beers flying into the air, drenching probably a dozen people in Bud Light. Luckily, the drunk and the half dozen people he fell on/over all ended up being ok. That was death-defying act number one. Number two occurred shortly before the end of the concert: If you’ve been to a stadium concert, you know they usually don’t sell seats behind the stage, because, well…no one wants to pay to watch the back of the band. Turns out there’s another good reason for that as well…. As the band was nearing the end of their set, my mother pointed to the area behind the stage, in the upper bowl of the stadium, and said “look, there’s somebody up there behind the stage. What’s he doing up there?” I watched the guy intently, thinking maybe he was a stage hand or maybe he was also so drunk that he would fall down the upper level of the stadium as well, but this time there would be no other concertgoers around to slow his descent. About a minute in, I see a few security guards quickly approaching the man, and what looks like an argument ensues. The man doesn’t seem to care about the security guard’s directives, but eventually, they grab him and remove him from the area. As they are escorting him down the stairs of the upper level - Mick says “this is our last song”, the band launches in to “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and a massive barrage of fireworks launches from behind the stage, almost exactly where the drunk was hanging out a minute prior. Those security guards likely saved this guy from a pretty serious trip to the hospital and did so right in the nick of time. “So what does this have to do with Beggars Banquet?”, you’re probably thinking. Honestly, not much…It’s just a Rolling Stones anecdote I needed put out into the world, but I’ll tie it together any way: Beggars Banquet is arguably the first record where the Stones became the band that everyone knows today: they found their blues, country and honky tonk swagger, solidifying their status as a band that’s synonymous with the hard-partying rock and roll lifestyle. So, without a record like Beggar’s Banquet, I may not have ever experienced the accidental near-deaths of two 50 year old drunks in 1997, and in turn, you wouldn’t be here reading about it. It’s truly a rock and roll version of the butterfly effect.

This is the dichotomy of my life: I’m a sucker for the pedal steel, but I have a strong dislike for most country music. It’s a genre I can’t relate to much - I didn’t grow up with it and it can be very monolithic and same-y. Obviously not all country music sounds the same, but let’s be real, the joke about all country songs being about a) your wife leaving you, b) your truck breaking down or c) your dog dying, is funny because it’s true. As a matter of fact, the first song that auto-played after this record ended (She Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere by Guy Clark) was about a guy whose wife left him. Checkmate. But the pedal steel, sweet Jesus on a skateboard, what an absolutely beautiful sounding instrument. It can be sad sounding, but also uplifting and understatedly psychedelic. For lack of a better phrase, it “sings” in a way that few other instruments can. It tickles my brain in the best possible way. The pedal steel on this record, played by Leo LeBlanc, is wonderful and perfectly compliments every one of the songs where it appears on this record. Don’t let my unabashed love of the pedal steel overshadow the great collection of songs John Prine wrote here. They’re often humorous, but also poignant and touching. It’s no surprise that Kurt Vile is such a fan of Prine; Prine’s sense of humor and skill with lyrical turns of phrase is clearly an influence. John Prine’s self-titled is a rarity for me: a country record that I was fully engaged with. When it was over, I had to listen again.

There’s no such thing as “indie” music anymore, at least in the descriptive sense of the word. “Indie” used to mean music that came from independent record labels - and that covered a wide swath and many styles of music. Music from people that didn’t want to answer to anyone (especially a giant corporation), music that had something different to say, music that took chances. Now, “indie” just describes the kind of plucky, lifeless, navel gazing, easy listening quirk-pop that you hear on this record. “Indie” is the new elevator music. I’m serious about this…to use the parlance of our times: “don’t @ me”. That The National and Bon Iver, two of indie rock’s foremost purveyors of bland navel gazing, were involved in this record comes as no surprise to me. “evermore” is basically a Bon Iver record, with Taylor Swift’s vocals (which are, admittedly, very good) instead of Justin Vernon’s “T-Pain for people who buy artisan maple syrup” auto-tuned vocal stylings (though he does dust off that chestnut on the closing track). Maybe I’m just an out of touch old man yelling at a cloud, but a lot of this record is the kind of stuff you’d hear on Lite FM when I was growing up in the early 90’s.

I got this record at a yard sale 20 years ago along with about 20 other 70’s LP’s, and honestly don’t think I’ve ever listened to it before today. ELP never did it for me they way that Yes’ classic records and King Crimson’s 73-75 period does. Those bands tended merge classical and rock more interestingly to me, where ELP tilts toward classical much more. This album is no exception: a live, rock interpretation of Mussorgsky’s Pictures At An Exhibiton. Having no familiarity with the original piece or extensive knowledge of classical music, this review isn’t going to be the most balanced. As an experimental rock record, it’s mostly enjoyable, with all three members of ELP playing extremely well. Emerson is clearly the main attraction of the band: a veritable keyboard wizard, even if he didn’t wear a cape, like his contemporary in Yes, Rick Wakeman. As such, his moog synthesizer is often loudest in the mix, sometimes overpowering the rest of the band and occasionally sounding as if parts had been overdubbed after the fact, in an effort to bridge the movements. Lake and Palmer provide a solid foundation for his soloing, even when they are also going off on their own solos. ELP, say what you will about them, were an extremely tight band on this record. Of the other ELP records I’ve listened to (Tarkus and Trilogy) Pictures at an Exhibition was the most enjoyable. Maybe it’s because it was a live record that captured the band’s energy better than their studio work or maybe because Pictures leans into ELP’s classical side rather than rock.

46 days in and I’m beginning to think the 1001 Album Generator is tracking my internet history. Less than 12 hours before this album was “randomly generated” for me, I was watching a 1996 Sonic Youth live performance from Germany on YouTube. This suggests two grim possibilities: Either the developers of this website have entered into a nefarious pact with Google and are tracking my browsing history (god help them if they are) and then recommending albums… OR …I am becoming one with the Generator; its decisions influencing my choices and my choices influencing its decisions: a bio-mechanical cerebral cortex, decaying in a feedback loop. If Sonic Youth are, in fact, a conduit for The Singularity, would anyone be surprised? Their guitar squall and reckless abandon would make a fitting soundtrack to the technological apocalypse. Rating: SEVEN! out of 5

Like The Kinks “Arthur”, “Let England Shake” is an artist’s exploration of their relationship with England, their country of birth, and the battles it has fought. “Let England Shake” is a decidedly darker affair, aiming some of its focus on Gallipoli, where 30,000 English soldiers died in a brutal battle during World War I. Harvey’s songs here are often ghostly and strikingly minimalist in their instrumentation. The record’s stark black and white cover compliments its sound perfectly. Let England Shake is an ambitious concept record, one that I suspect will take me a few more listens to fully digest.

Basket of Light is a swirling, psychedelic mixture of folk, jazz, blues, sitar and traditional music that may be one of the most surprisingly great records I’ve ever heard. Surprising in that, typically, folk and medieval sounding music are not very enjoyable to me. Pentangle’s intricate guitar arrangements and interplay were the highlight of this record to me, but each member, whether on guitars, bass, drums or vocals all execute at a virtuosic level. Most importantly, Pentangle doesn’t let their ability outshine the song: They aren’t playing only to showcase their talents, but to serve the song. Each part of every song sounds considered and well written, transitioning smoothly from one to the next; playing with an edge that I would consider to be uncommon in most folk music. A truly enjoyable album experience.

Fuck Yes. Amazing production (Pete Rock, Dilla and DOOM? Come on, you can’t go wrong), amazing flow, great guest spots, high energy. Like it’s namesake, Fishscale hits hard.

The Mystery: What would it sound like if Poison made a Replacements album? The Answer: This record.

1994, the halcyon days of my youth…I’m reminded of summer nights playing “Manhunt” in my suburban neighborhood. Manhunt was basically a teen version of hide and seek, spread out across a wide swath of residential housing on half-acre lots. In actuality, it was just an excuse for us teenagers in the neighborhood to get together for the night and see what kind of mischief we could get into. It usually went something like this: We’d meet up a predetermined time and place, usually between 730 and 8pm. Discussions would ensue about what sort of teenage contraband had been acquired during the day: “I stole a half-pack of cigarettes from my dad”, ”I stashed 3 wine coolers behind my fence, we’ll go and grab them once it gets dark”, “I’ve got some firecrackers”…that sort of thing. Once we were all assembled and dusk drew near, Manhunt captains were chosen and we’d break up into two teams. Ideally, you wanted to end up on the same team as the person you had a crush on: Manhunt was the perfect opportunity for the two of you to find someplace secluded to make out. The people chosen as captains could make or break your night. We’d play Manhunt for about 30 minutes to keep up the facade that we were just innocent kids having fun. At that point, it would be dark enough that anyone paying attention couldn’t really keep tabs on what was going on. It was then, thoroughly bored with the facade, that we’d turn to the streets: a pack of chain-smoking, wine cooler aficionados roaming the backroads and backyards of suburban America looking for fun. It never amounted to much: the occasional stolen street sign or fireworks set off in sewer grates. One time, we figured out that if you shook the soda machine at the baseball field hard enough, it would dispense free sodas, usually ginger ale. It was petty mischief; the kind you get into when you’re 14 and miles away from anything interesting. As long as we were home by 11 and didn’t arrive by police car, our parents didn’t care… Welcome to Paradise.

Two songs in, I had to pause and listen to a few tracks from The Jam. They’re a blind spot in my musical knowledge-base and I was thinking some context might be needed for this record. I always, somewhat incorrectly, assumed they were a punk band in the same vein as the Pistols or the Damned or Buzzcocks, so when I heard the first two tracks off of Wild Wood, and they sounded like Traffic, I was confused. Turns out my assumptions weren’t entirely correct, and I’ve made an ass out of me. With my new found knowledge of what The Jam actually sounded like, I returned to Wild Wood. I’ll give Paul Weller this: the production on this record is very intricate with great attention to detail. Keyboards kind pop up and percolate on the periphery of the stereo field…It’s nice to listen to. The MOR rock stylings of the songs, however, are not as nice to listen to. I’m not sure that was what people were craving in the early 90’s. Maybe things were different in Britain. It’s bad that I’m enjoying this album when Paul Weller isn’t singing. The instrumental sections of a lot of these songs get psychedelic, lock into a groove and they’re really finely crafted. Seriously, the best parts of this record happen when Paul Weller isn’t crooning like an off-brand Tom Jones. Oh, cool…Now it sounds like Cat Stevens. I kind of hate this record. …and we’re back into Traffic territory. What is it with the English and their obsession with making the most god awful blues rock? I’m out. RIYL: Traffic, but don’t feel like putting on a Traffic record; Bloody Mary’s and Brunch at the country club.

Prog for people who think Billy Joel “rocks”.

Don’t tell the indie kids, but I think David Longstreth is a massive Steve Howe (Yes) fan. He laces Howe-isms in his guitar playing through out the record. If you don’t believe me, listen to the title track or “Temecula Sunrise”, if you’ve heard a few Steve Howe solos or enjoy Yes, it’ll hit you hard. Honestly, it’s pretty amazing, like if you dropped Steve Howe into Stereolab and it somehow worked. Ok, enough trying manipulate the generator into giving me a Yes record to review. (Serious about the Steve Howe thing, though). Bitte Orca separates itself from a lot of 2000/10’s indie rock with its complex, layered arrangements. It’s a daunting listen at first, but when it clicks, it’ll likely leave you wanting more. RIYL: “Point” by Cornelius, Steve Howe’s work in Yes.

Probably revolutionary at its time; an enjoyable, but somewhat pedestrian sounding electronic record today.

I’m no monarchist, but The Queen is Dead has me reconsidering that stance. Surely, a benevolent dictator, unfettered by democracy, wouldn’t allow an enterprise as soul-draining and limp as The Smiths to run amok in their kingdom, would they? Johnny Marr’s guitar is The Smiths’ only saving grace in my book and it’s great here. The rhythm section is ok and the production is a typical 80’s mix. Everything about Morrissey sucks. Hard. He easily ranks amongst the 10 most insufferable people on the planet, and that was before revealing himself to be a Grade A bigot. If you like songs about how it would be great to be run over by a bus and killed, this is the album for you. Usually after I finish one of these records, I either listen to it again or listen to something similar in my collection for the sake of comparison. Today, I took off my headphones, unable and unwilling to do either. This record has (at least temporarily) made me hate music.

Occasionally, I am reminded of how much a product of my environment I am; that teenage years really are more formative than you realize. You can try to distance yourself from them, but that seed is always there, lying dormant and ready for the right glimpse of sunlight in order to bloom again. I was a teenager in the early 90’s. Alternative rock was at peak popularity. Our guitars were fuzzy, aggressive and screaming out the arrival of a new way forward. There was a new world order and what had been the status quo a few years earlier had become painfully uncool. High atop the Mountain of Uncool was soft rock, the kind of stuff you’d hear at JC Penny while shopping with your mom. Intolerable blandness, so inoffensive that you could play it almost anywhere, with the exception of maybe a convent, and not get the side-eye from anyone. As kids, we used to laugh at the Time-Life infomercials schilling 2 and 3 CD collections of “Soft Rock Super Hits of the 70’s”: These collections typically featured bands like Air Supply, The Doobie Brothers, Bread, Steely Dan…and many more! All yours for the low price of $19.99! I always thought Steely Dan was lame. 30 years on, that hasn’t changed. They’ve never been for me and god help me if they ever are. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried: I know plenty of people who love them, I’ve got younger friends and co-workers who extol their virtues. My own brother is a fan. But the second a Steely Dan track comes on, I’m transported back to 1993 and the aforementioned seed begins to sprout: this is everything that was wrong with music; perfection for the sake of perfection, emotionless music masquerading as having soul. Even though the Alternative-era of the early 90’s soon gave way to a similar by-the-numbers alt-rock soullessness and awful nu-metal, there were at least a few years where the sky was the limit. The formula had been broken and it didn’t matter how weird you were, you could get radio play and/or a major label deal: bands like sonic youth, pavement, the butthole surfers and ween had radio and MTV playing their songs. These bands would be less likely to find “mainstream” success today, but for a brief window of time, the rules no longer applied. Maybe I’ve been looking at the music of Steely Dan (and their ilk) from the wrong perspective this whole time. If wasn’t for their rigid, schlocky compositions, there wouldn’t have been a backlash towards authenticity and uniqueness that lead me to the music that I love… Newton’s third law and all that.

I was a teenage dirtbag. Not in the parlance of our current time, where a celebrity like Reese Witherspoon will post awkward photos from her teenage years where she had braces, then type “cringe” as a caption and #teenagedirtbag. I was a teenage dirtbag in the traditional sense: a weird, cigarette smoking metal head; a total societal misfit. To prove my dirtbag credentials: The first concert I went to of my own accord was a split bill of White Zombie and Pantera in 1996 at the Brendan Byrne Arena in NJ. (Now I’m not saying metal heads are dirtbags, but at that time, if you were 15 and listening to Pantera, chances are you weren’t one of “the cool kids”. ) A little known (at the time) band called Deftones opened the show. Being the hipster that I am, I had already known about them and owned Adrenaline. I must’ve been one of maybe 100 people in the arena who were excited to see them. It was rough going for them. Pantera fans were not interested in buying what the Deftones had to sell and made their disapproval known throughout the set. Still, Chino and company managed to coax a few mosh pits out of the crowd and it was going about as successfully as it could, given their mostly unknown status… Until Chino decided to go crowd surfing. Towards the end of their set, he jumped from the stage and into the crowd. He finished out the song, getting tossed around atop the crowd, occasionally screaming his lyrics into the mic. The song ended and he returned to stage, missing a shoe. “Who stole my fucking shoe?” He says. “Bunch of thieves in here tonight.” He argued with the crowd a little bit, gave them the finger and moved on to the next song. A minute or so later, about 50 feet from the stage, dead center, a sneaker flies through the air, hurtling towards Chino and hits him right upside the head, mid-song. The NY Giants or Jets should have drafted whoever threw that shoe to be their quarterback in ‘96. My man dropped a dime right on Chino’s head in a dark arena. It was an amazing toss and you could hear laughter and cheering throughout the crowd. Deftones finished up and White Zombie took the stage shortly after. Their show was a psychedelic horror trip with crazy video, pyrotechnics and lights. Highly entertaining. The crowd was weirdly subdued, but I guess tormenting the Deftones for 40 minutes drained them a little. Now, for the “relevant” part of this story: Pantera. I was never a huge Pantera fan. I liked Vulgar Display of Power back then, but that was about it: Cowboys from Hell was always cheesy to me and Far Beyond Driven had a few decent tracks, but was grating on the ears after a while. My friend who got the tickets was a fan, though, and at 15 you’re going to go to whatever concerts you can. They were touring “The Great Southern Trendkill” that year, which was a concept record about…the South rising again to kill all false metal (?). I’m projecting a little, but Pantera always kind of had a Lynyrd Skynyrd gone metal vibe to me. However, as we all know, that title actually belongs to Jackyl. A few weeks prior to this show, Phil Anselmo nearly died from a heroin overdose. Technically, he was dead for a few minutes, but was resuscitated. I know this because he made a point of telling the audience about it in between songs and then announced his invincibility, saying “Nothing can kill me!” That was the lesson he took away. Not “maybe I should stop doing heroin” or “man, I’m lucky to be alive”. Nope…”I’m invincible”. That left a bad taste in my mouth. Pantera fans loved it that night, though, and maybe it was all for show…faux bravado for a rabid fanbase. Whatever it was, I felt dumber just having been in the room. I know I took the scenic route to get here and this might be my longest “review” to date, so I’ll touch on Vulgar Display of Power quickly then see myself out. It’s one of the most aptly named albums ever. It’s heavy, aggressive, blunt and lacking sophistication. Is that a bad thing? I don’t know. Pantera isn’t for me at age 40. Phil Anselmo certainly isn’t, either - his antics have only gotten worse over the years. Dimebag was an amazing player and his death was beyond tragic, but that’s where my appreciation of this band starts and ends. This is probably the best Pantera album and it is genre defining, so I think its inclusion here is warranted, but it’s hard for me to reconcile the music with Phil Anselmo’s persona. After all, he’s the one that’s screaming at you for 40 minutes.

New Wave Dracula doesn’t suck blood, he just sucks.

Beavis: Check it out, Butt-Head…our 69th album just got generated. Butt-Head: uh-huh-huh, you said “69”. Beavis: oh, yeah, I guess did….heh-heh… Butt-Head: so, uh…what is it? Beavis: Uhh…69 is the sex number, Butt-Head…Jeez Butt-Head: I know what 69 is, dill-weed. What record are we, like, supposed to listen to? Beavis: oh…yeah, cool…I knew that…uh, it says we’re supposed to listen to Celebrity Skin by Hole. Butt-Head: uh-huh-huh…Hole. Beavis: yeah! and it’s, like, our 69th record, Butt-Head…Heh-heh…69…heh-heh-heh…Hole…Get it? Butt-Head: Whoa…that’s cool. This generator must know we’re, like, super cool badasses who like to score. Beavis: uhh…Butt-Head? We, like, don’t score very much at all. Butt-Head: Uh…speak for yourself, butt-munch. Ladies love the Butt-Head…Now go put on that Hole record, you wuss. Beavis: oh, yeah…sure thing, Butt-Head. [they listen to the record] Beavis: Hey, Butt-Head? Butt-Head: Uhh….yeah, Beavis? Beavis: Is it just me or does this record kind of suck? Butt-Head: yeah, Beavis…it sucks. She’s, like, singing about seeing God and stuff. Beavis: Yeah…singing about God sucks. This is lame. Butt-Head: We should, like, leave a bad review and demand the Generator give us a new album that’s, like, cool to listen to for number 69. Beavis: Yeah! This sucks! I want a refund or I’m gonna find the Generator and, like, smash it with a baseball bat…and then, I’m going to take all the pieces, gather them up and set them on fire! Yeah, fire! FIRE! Heh-heh…that’ll teach them to make us listen to things that suck. Butt-Head: uh-huh-huh…Breaking things is cool. Beavis: It sure is, Butt-Head…It sure is.

10 Albums You Actually Need To Hear Before You Die Chapter 1: The Avalanches - Since I Left You I’ve always thought the term “plunderphonics” was a poor descriptor for The Avalanches’ music. It’s reductive and undermines the skill required to craft an album as captivating, detailed and unique as Since I Left You. Plundering implies recklessness and a disregard for history; something done with a lack of grace. Since I Left You is none of those things. It is a meticulously crafted record that, through sampling, nods to the past, while carving out a new way forward. Comprised of thousands of samples (the band has estimated anywhere from 900 to 3000 over the years), Since I Left You is a veritable encyclopedia of modern recorded music and sound: disassembled, then reconfigured to create something new and beautiful out of the already known. I first heard Since I Left You in the summer of 2002, stricken with mononucleosis. Tired of laying around at home, I went to Borders Books and Music to pick up the new Flaming Lips record “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” and see what other new albums had come in. I was familiar with Since I Left You, having read a review in Mojo Magazine a few months earlier. Their review, I believe, compared it to Paul’s Boutique, which I was a fan of, so it was a no-brainer when I saw it on the shelf that day. While the Paul’s Boutique comparison was apt, it didn’t prepare me for Since I Left You. If you could cram Paul’s Boutique inside of a kaleidoscope and spend a summer afternoon staring through it…that’s Since I Left You. Even though “Yoshimi” would end up getting more play on my stereo at the time, Since I Left You left an impression that continued to grow with each listen. Even now, some 20 years and countless listens later, I am in awe of it and find new details to appreciate. It is, in my opinion, one of the most important records of the 21st century, unrivaled in its creativity. Since I Left You is truly a masterpiece.

I’ve been aware of, but never actually heard, The Stone Roses for some time. They sound almost exactly as I expected them to: swirling psychedelic, guitar rock. It’s an awfully pretty record that alternates between jangly Byrds-esque guitars, huge guitar hooks, fuzzed out 60’s psych, and experimental dance music. Great record.