It’s possible to make a concept album about the American South without repeatedly using a word white people should not, under any circumstances, be saying. Really.
Pioneers of mixing hip-hop with house and jazz (in fact they were the first to do the former), Jungle Brothers pack their second album full of irresistible beats and singsong flow. Some of the rhymes are wonderfully corny in that special late 80s way.
Younger listeners may not recall a time when Kanye West was a major tastemaker in hip hop, but this album made waves when it was released. And it wasn’t just the incredible beats-from wrestling with religion in Jesus Walks to the sardonic School Spirit, Kanye speaks frankly and cleverly about black culture and the absurdities of fame; and in doing so, changed the direction of hip hop.
A quintessential lying on the floor and thinking about why he left you while the rain pours outside and the heater’s on the fritz album. Simply superb.
The beats are decent and the concept is amusing, but the flow is too sleepy and the lyrics seem shocking and gross just for the hell of it (count the number of times words like vomit, rectum and rape show up). Appealing to a very niche audience.
I can’t think of another live album which so viscerally places in you in the setting of a concert. Perhaps more than any other American singer, Johnny Cash embodies the struggles of this country-and the ideals we aspire to.
An exploration of woman, both inside and out-from romantic relationships to psychoanalysis, Joni Mitchell applies both a light touch of humor and surprising maturity. The jazz-kissed arrangements help some of the heavier lyrics go down smooth.
The greatest band of all time bids farewell with a stunning, self-assured masterpiece. Sometimes tender, sometimes bombastic, a thrill right to the end.
An exquisitely curated collection of standards, back with a big band and anchored by Ray Charles’ sprightly piano and emotion-soaked voice. Melancholy, but in a way that doesn’t leave the listener feeling drained.
The jangly guitars and lush harmonies of the 60s meet the slick production of the 80s, and the marriage is blissful. To produce a debut this confident and fully-formed is rare indeed, but the Stones Roses manage with flourishes of true brilliance.
Pitch-black, gratingly harsh, and uncompromising. Trent Reznor exorcises his demons through a set of songs that demonstrate both his musical virtuosity and his desire to claw his way back from the pit of despair.
A bit too sprawling and uneven to be counted as truly great, but credit where credit is due-the Beatles fearlessly throw everything at the wall to see what sticks, and most of it does. Even ideas that aren’t fully formed contain intriguing lyrics and melodies, showing just how far they’ve come as a band.
The tail end of the grunge movement flirts with folk and blues and produces something pleasantly listenable, though not particularly groundbreaking. Screaming Trees’ final album points to the direction rock music would take going into the new millennium.
Pioneers of mixing hip-hop with house and jazz (in fact they were the first to do the former), Jungle Brothers pack their second album full of irresistible beats and singsong flow. Some of the rhymes are wonderfully corny in that special late 80s way.
The album that redefined what was possible with a guitar. Hendrix is of course transcendent, but attention should also be paid to Noel Redding (bass) and Mitch Mitchell (drums)-their tight, locked-in groove gives a sturdy frame to the six-string fireworks.
A perfectly crafted album: dark without succumbing to utter despair, synths entwined with full-bodied drums, a vision maintained from first note to last. Depeche Mode enter the 90s at the top of their game and ready to conquer.
T-Boz, Left Eye and Chili demonstrate why they’re arguably the greatest girl group of the 90s. Covering subjects from unapologetic sexuality to bewilderment at the quickly-changing world of the new decade, it’s erotic, funny and brash all at once.
“Cacophonous” is probably the best word to describe this album. Industrial music at its purest, combining disparate elements of metal, electronic music, even white noise-you’ll know pretty quickly whether it’s your thing or not.
Having laid Ziggy Stardust to rest, David Bowie turns his exacting gaze to the world of blue-eyed soul. Full of swagger, biting lyrics, and a loose jam-like atmosphere.
On their second album, ELP throw off the training wheels and show what they’re really capable of. The multi-part suite Tarkus is astonishing in its complexity, and the venomous Bitches Crystal crashes through the speakers like a speeding train.
One of the flagship albums of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal. Judas Priest know their strengths and they deliver with screaming guitars and Rob Halford’s inimitable snarl.
Overlong, incredibly self-indulgent, and full of pedestrian rhymes and plodding melodies. There’s nothing here that groups like Oasis and Blur weren’t already doing-and doing better.
A fabulously smooth jazz album, perfect for enjoying a warm cup of tea on a rainy day. The main attraction here is Sade Adu’s gorgeous voice; it slinks around a lyric like a silk scarf, finding the nuances with the greatest of ease.
Isaac Hayes takes the listener on a…well, soulful sonic journey through love and heartbreak. Finally granted creative control after a stunted debut, Hayes belts out jam session-ish versions of classics over a sweeping orchestra and his own pounding Hammond organ.
Knowing the context of this record-that Robert Wyatt was paralyzed by a fall from a high window just before recording, and music was basically all he had to live for-certainly helps increase one’s admiration for it. Its highly experimental and atonal nature, though, isn’t for everyone, despite the number of talented musicians on hand.
A bridge between the R&B and pop of Beatlemania and the cornucopia of genres that would characterize their later years. The Beatles incorporate folk, country and a bit of Indian raga for a jewel of an album.
Lenny Kravitz introduces himself to the world with an impressive and pure distillation of his talents-he performs all the vocals and instruments himself (then-wife Lisa Bonet co-wrote two of the songs). Several pieces arguably meander a bit too much, but there are some decent lyrical ideas presented therein.
Younger listeners may not recall a time when Kanye West was a major tastemaker in hip hop, but this album made waves when it was released. And it wasn’t just the incredible beats-from wrestling with religion in Jesus Walks to the sardonic School Spirit, Kanye speaks frankly and cleverly about black culture and the absurdities of fame; and in doing so, changed the direction of hip hop.
Raw and full of nerve. PJ Harvey has the kind of voice to send prickles up the neck at its full power, defiant and aching.
One of the building blocks of electronic music as it exists today. Through repetition and careful choice of effects and arrangements, there arises an interesting texture that really does replicate traveling through Europe via train.
The masters of funk at the top of their game, completely in control of every note. Both the originals and the covers sparkle with vibrancy.
At the tail end of Britpop comes a kinder, gentler Oasis. Nothing truly exceptional, but the sea shanty influences make for an interesting listen.
No other artist sounds quite like Frank Zappa. Combining jazz and psychedelic rock with how own bizarre sense of humor, Zappos’s first album after The Mothers of Invention is a fascinating window on his musical psyche.
Magnificently sung, regally arranged, bursting with joy and power. All hail the First Lady of Soul.
Generic, overly slick, and shiny with substance. Not a bit of it feels sincere.
Bohemian Rhapsody has more than earned its place in the pantheon of all-time great songs, but A Night at the Opera offers a bevy of auditory delights, from the Dixieland jazz of Good Company (all replicated with Brian May’s guitar) to the Motown pastiche of You’re My Best Friend to the intricate harmonies and apocalyptic imagery of The Prophet’s Song. With their backs against the wall, Queen produce an album that isn’t quite their finest work, but gives an excellent overview of their skill and their fearlessness to experiment with genre and technique.
The most proudly English of all the British Invasion groups delivers a treatise on not only the UK’s vanishing rural way of life, but nostalgia and how it can both enhance and spoil one’s perspective. Ray Davies really comes into his own as a songwriter here.
Utterly bananas and completely unashamed of its radical experimentation. It’s perhaps a bit too long, as many double albums are, but as far as first statements go it’s conclusive one.
The production on Aja is incredible: the sound is crisp and resonant, with each voice and instrument given warmth and depth. The songs themselves are a little more of a mixed bag: some may find the arrangements too noodly or the lyrics too obtuse, but the musicianship is generally impressive.
Not as purely funky as their later releases, but it doesn’t matter. This is a raw, rip-roaring musical merry-go-round with jaw-dropping guitar work.
One of the essential grunge albums, a harrowing portrait of the destruction and misery wrought by drug addiction. Sludgy guitars and yowling, pain-filled vocals combine to make this a memorable listening experience, if not an especially pleasant one.
One of the shortest albums on the list (maybe THE shortest?) at 15 minutes and 25 seconds, Group Sex goes by so quickly that one hardly has enough time to form an opinion on it. Lean, brutal, and full of the anger and uncertainty that many young people felt at the start of the 80s.
Radiohead expands their horizons, to fantastic results. Moody, almost baroque, with multilayered arrangements and plaintive vocal work by Thom Yorke.
Breakbeat with a side of industrial derangement. Arguably a little too long, but it starts and ends strong.
One of the 20th century’s most iconic voices takes on big band standards, with arranger Nelson Riddle (who you may know for his theme to Batman ‘66) giving them a jazzier touch. These songs may run on into each other, but Sinatra is incredibly charming and sings them almost with a wry wink.
The concept of soundtracking a nonexistent film is an interesting one, though it’s difficult to fathom what kind of film this might be. Some wild experimentation here, incorporating jazz, funk, and spoken word-it doesn’t always work, but when it does it’s an ear worm.
There are many singer-songwriters who fancy themselves poets, but none have quite the deft touch of Leonard Cohen. He’s not the most talented vocalists, but it doesn’t matter: he weaves a web of words that enchant every time.
For as modern as the arrangements of this album are, Kate Bush’s voice retains its timeless otherworldly quality. She has a clear vision of what she wants this record to be, an intimidate understanding of what women endure.
Apart from the iconic, Oscar-winning theme, these songs are probably best appreciated if you’ve seen the film beforehand. No doubt the musicians are sharp and the arrangements are smooth, but without context they just sort of drag.
A little baffled by the glowing praise Dear Science received from press outlets at the time. It’s perfectly acceptable late-00s indie rock, nothing more and nothing less.
Breezy, loud and fun, just what a Madchester record is supposed to be. A sign of what was to come in the decade ahead.
So much more than country, Golden Hour combines electronic, folk and pop influences. It provides the perfect backdrop for Musgraves’ exploration of loss, love and maturation.
An essential example of an overlooked gem that people are finally coming around to. Suffused with a gorgeous melancholy and intricate harmonies.
After his mental breakdown, Brian Wilson begins to experiment with more complex arrangements and abstract topics. An important stepping stone on the way to Pet Sounds.
When an album starts with a musical retelling of Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, an eclectic listen is at hand. Not every song is a winner, but Walker was a gifted writer who knew his way around a turn of phrase.
Common has one of the smoothest flows in the game, and he puts it to incredible use on this album. But it’s not just about his lyrical dexterity-he speaks with emotion and frankness about his experience as an artist, a father, and a black man in America.
A hair away from careening off the rails, thumbing their nose at the establishment, Sweden’s loudest band brings back punk sensibility for the 21st century. Howlin’ Pelle lives up to his name.
George Jones is often cited as perhaps the greatest country singer of all time-though you may not know it if your first exposure to him is this album. His performance is solid, but apart from the first and last songs, none of these tracks have the staying power of classics like “He Stopped Loving Her Today.”
From first note to last, this album is indeed a tapestry of exquisitely crafted songs that flow along like the tide. Carole King had already proved her bonafides as a songwriter with ex Gerry Goffin, but here she demonstrates that she’s more than capable on her own.
Jazz in its purest form. A group of immensely talented musicians letting the music take them where it will.
Look, I’m far from a fan of Morrissey (both his voice and his personality), but even I must admit the Smiths are a good band. The instrumentation is tight and the lyrics have a poetic quality.
Out of all the progressive rock giants of the 70s, Rush had perhaps the smoothest and most creatively fruitful transition to the 80s. They may have a slightly more polished sound on Moving Pictures, but they still retain their musical proficiency and intricate lyrics exploring themes like alienation and technology.
Competently played, but the songs tend to blend together. The singer should stop trying to reach notes beyond his range.
The psychedelic notes sprinkled throughout do add some color, but often the songs seem to peter out long before they actually end. A good effort.
What sounds fairly tame in 2022 was a revelation in 1957. With his exuberant whoops, pounding piano, and playful innuendo, Little Richard helped build rock n roll into a cultural touchstone.
Profoundly unlike anything else at the time, and for that Suicide should be commended. But the droning melodies and disturbing lyrics definitely make this a niche album.
The Specials have a great talent for combining bouncy rhythms with sarcastic, politically-tinged lyrics. Perhaps the best 2 Tone group.
Dreamy Britpop that owes more than a little to David Bowie. Maybe a little aimless in the middle, but finishes strong.
Born to Die should be on the list instead. Lightweight and dreary.
Though they may not play fast and loose with song structures like the Grateful Dead or Phish, Pavement has the soul of a jam band. One of those rare albums where the back half is livelier than the front.
ZZ Top does Texas proud with this collection of crunchy, riff-filled Southern rock. No song overstays it welcome-the trio have an excellent handle on tight arrangements.
Musings on suburbia with her usual lyrical dexterity and folksy touch. There’s some excellent layering of vocals here too.
Spare and haunting in a way that leaves the listener oddly fulfilled. Just gorgeous.
With a name like Primal Scream, one might expect music that’s hard, nasty and brutish. Instead this album is melodic and flows easily from one song to the next, incorporating elements of dub and ambient music.
Not only a spectacular jazz album, A Love Supreme is a beautiful expression of the relationship between man and God. Coltrane’s saxophone wails and sobs like a sinner yearning to be cleansed.
Sheryl Crow has a fine voice, but the lyrics and song structure here don’t always match it. The popular singles are the definite highlights.
Slams one in the face with all the power and subtlety of a wrecking ball. The speed of the guitar work is impressive.
If the back half of the album wasn’t overlong, and a certain slur wasn’t part of Money for Nothing, this album would probably have earned itself a 5. But the parts of Brothers in Arms that work are phenomenal-Mark Knopfler is a perennially underrated guitarist.
The most notable thing about With the Beatles is probably its iconic cover, but there are plenty of aural delights within. John and Paul continue to polish their impeccable songwriting chops, George contributes his first number (even if he later admitted he didn’t care for it), and even Ringo gets to experiment with various percussive instruments.
The first rap album to top the Billboard charts, Licensed to Ill is a supremely goofy tongue twister of a time. Though the Beastie Boys later apologized for the casual misogyny in some of the lyrics, it barely impedes the flow, and the selection and arrangement of samples is masterful,
The second of five albums from Stevie Wonder’s classic period, and an extraordinary piece work. These songs are incredibly polished and mature for someone so young.
Kendrick Lamar weaves an intricate tapestry of rhymes and beats to explore being black in 21st century America. He is both knowledgeable and eloquent, joined by guests ranging from George Clinton to Snoop Dogg.
The title track is an all-time classic, but the rest of the songs-mostly covers with a few originals-don’t live up to the hype. Guitarist Steve Cropper is a gem throughout, though.
An unwieldy two-part volume of postpunk. Snotty but not unbearable.
It’s fine- Brad Delp’s voice is pleasant enough and the band plays competently, with a little prog flair. But there’s really nothing in these songs that dozens of other bands weren’t doing at the time, and it leaves the memory as soon as it’s done.
It’s been 30 years and this album feels more relevant than ever. Hard-edged without being discordant, full of righteous fury.
With a voice clear as a bell, Emmylou Harris brings her own gentle touch to a well-curated group of covers and originals. Those who normally disdain other artists attempting Beatles tunes may be pleasantly surprised at her melancholic rendition of “For No One.”
The skits may not have been wholly necessary, but this is still an excellent album. A worthy addition to the gangsta rap canon.
Punk takes on a more melodic bent here, but doesn’t sacrifice its spirit of rebellion in the process. When one of your songs ends up having its lyrics featured on John Peel’s grave, you must be doing something right.
Almost timeless in how ethereal it is. A great album just to vibe to.
A brilliantly constructed album from an artist taken far too soon. Savane reminds its listeners that the roots of most popular music really do originate in Africa.
The Summer of Love, compressed into one album. Grace Slick’s powerful wail soars over a moody bed of guitars, lending an uneasy thrilling current to the music.
The aural equivalent of spinning out on heroin. Dark and discordant, perhaps too much for its own good.
One of the shining lights of the late 70s punk and new wave scene at CBGB, Talking Heads are scrappy, jittery, and unlike most anything America had heard before. The darkness of the lyrics constraint beautifully with the chirping guitar.
Power pop at its very finest. Costello has both wit and wisdom in spades for someone so young.
Definitely Maybe wasn’t the first Britpop album, but Oasis’s debut is arguably what made the genre into a phenomenon. Rough around the edges, but has a delightful sneer.
The title track is a loopy acid rock classic, stretching out for 17 delirious minutes. Sadly, nothing else on the album even remotely measures up-Iron Butterfly weren’t bringing much to the table that other musicians weren’t already doing.
A trip-hop odyssey that at points loses sight of its destination. Alison Goldfrapp sings some lovely guest vocals though.
New Order says goodbye to the last remnants of Joy Division and fully embraces a more danceable style. Spacey, dreamy, vaguely threatening.
The way these samples are layered is just astonishing. The Avalanches really paved the way for so many electronic musicians after them.
Even when listening for the first time, Boards of Canada feels gauzy and nostalgic, as if half-remembered from childhood. Every song is a gem and this album is their masterpiece.
There’s no denying that Randy Newman is a gifted songwriter and arranger, but his voice might be the hurdle some listeners can’t overcome. For those who can, Sail Away walks a fine line between whimsical and just a bit too silly, and most of the time it maintains that balance well.
Sometimes albums one has always been told are “great” really do live up to the hype. Pink Floyd fire on all cylinders here, delivering a cosmic suite of songs-essential listening regardless of whether it’s synced to The Wizard of Oz.
Janet’s masterpiece (and perhaps Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis’s as well), a sprawling exploration of societal problems set to a mix of new jack swing, industrial rock and hip hop. Only the over abundance of interludes and a slightly dragging back half keep Rhythm Nation from 5 stars.
A heady dose of New Orleans, a mix of R&B and psychedelia. Probably even better when under the influence.
Containing THE riff for aspiring guitarists to learn certainly counts in Machine Head’s favor. But Deep Purple pack this album full of tasty runs and pummeling beats.
Paul Weller moves from the mod revival of The Jam to something altogether different. A pleasant mix of jazz and funk-equally at home in a Starbucks or while driving on a rainy evening.
The B-52’s prove it’s possible to be quirky without annoying everyone. Right from the beginning, they establish their unique identity by flirting with punk, new wave and surf rock.
Jazmine Sullivan has a wonderful voice and chooses her collaborators well. But this is an EP where the idea of it(women taking control of their sexuality and grappling with their places in a man’s world) is more intriguing than the execution.
“Mama Africa” brings the songs of her homeland South Africa to the rest of the world. This whimsical collection of songs showcases her Everly and beautiful clear voice.
Here we have a rarity in Britpop-a group mostly comprised of women! Elastica has plenty of punch and vivacity, but the songs sound a bit too similar to other groups of that time.
Who knew a folk album could go this hard? Yusuf Islam’s simple melodies belie the difficult questions the lyrics ask, particularly on the masterpiece “Father and Son.”
There is before Dylan, and after Dylan: not many artists can claim to have caused a schism in popular music like that. Whatever one feels about his voice, his passion and lyricism cannot be denied.
A nice variety of styles on display here, surprisingly funky in places-and soaring guest vocals by Sinéad O’Connor just after she hit it big. It’s just a pity that some of the best ideas are dragged out until they lose steam.
The second of Taylor Swift’s surprise pandemic albums, Evermore takes a gentler direction than its predecessor Folklore, instrumentally if not lyrically. The steady parade of acoustic pop might lull some listeners to sleep, but there’s quite a bit to sink one’s teeth into here.
The Beau Brummels start dealing in the psychedelic and abstract, with generally favorable results. It’s all a bit samey toward the end, but tunes like “Magic Hollow” are playful and spirited.
The ideal vibes for a peaceful, blue-sky Friday. Shuggie Otis manages to keep things moving steadily while still fostering a gentle chill.
Considering how close the Cure came to imploding during the recording of Pornography, it’s a wonder they managed to produce anything listenable, let alone an album so expansive and gorgeously melancholic. Special mention goes to Lol Tolhurst’s propulsive drumming.
Sounds like it was recorded in a bedroom by a bunch of friends (though it’s actually studio-produced), which gives it a charming lo-fi air. However, several songs don’t stick around long enough to impact the listener in any meaningful way.
Straight from East Bay, California, a ragtag trio of snotty stoners records one of the pillars of pop punk. It’s full of adolescent angst and jagged guitars, and it captures its era perfectly.
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Axis: Bold as Love keeps what worked about Are You Experienced? and somehow is even denser, even more psychedelic, even more beautiful.
One of country’s most iconic outlaws teams up with Billy Joe Shaver for songs celebrating wine, women, and the winding road. Though still in his 30s at the time, Jennings has a voice soaked in age and experience.
Underworld falls prey to a common failing of 90s British electronic albums: good ideas are present, but stretched beyond the point where they seem fresh or interesting. Seek out the rerelease which features Born Slippy. NUXX, their signature song.
The Chili Peppers were busting heads in 1991, but in the decades since so many bands have imitated their sound that it’s lost some of its magic. That being said, Flea and John Frusciante are fantastic players-just don’t pay much attention to the often puerile lyrics.
Outside of post-punk devotees, this album probably appeals to a very limited audience. Harsh and formless.
Elvis returns after three years in the Army-and consequently has lost much of the edge that sent a shockwave through American culture. His voice and band sound just fine, but the songs here offer little in the way of excitement.
Riddles wrapped in enigmas, all presented in a melodic package that helped bring guitar-oriented music to the forefront again. The beginning of an illustrious run.
The title track has become such a totem of American culture, its impact and longevity almost improbable (hell, for almost 50 years it was the longest song to ever hit #1 on the Billboard chart), that it isn’t a surprise the rest of the album trembles in its shadow. But that isn’t to say the other songs aren’t worth listening to: “Vincent” in particular is a delicately crafted ode to Van Gogh that is remarkably sensitive about the often-taboo topic of mental illness.
The Beastie Boys at last become Beastie Men. The subject matter is more mature, but the wordplay is still tongue-twisting and the sampling is still expertly layered.
CCR’s crazy hot streak continues with this nearly-perfect grab bag of rockabilly-flavored barn burners. Evocative lyrics and jangling melodies make a compelling case for John Fogerty being one of the best American songwriters of the past century.
Q-Tip once again proves why he’s one of the most eloquent and dexterous voices in the rap game. With socially conscious lyrics and crystal-clear production (including two tracks helmed by the late great J Dilla), The Renaissance is the full package.
Competently played and occasionally lively, but a bit too cold and sterile to be truly enjoyable. “Tinseltown in the Rain” is the obvious standout.
Once upon a time, in a Paris bedroom, two longtime friends made an album that would bring French house to the masses and change electronic music forever. Homework isn’t Daft Punk’s masterpiece (that would be 2001’s Discovery), but it shines like a raw-cut diamond, displaying the duo’s knack for selecting and manipulating samples to create something entirely new and irresistible.
Primal Scream certainly are unafraid to mash different genres together, and regardless of the results more bands ought to have that kind of creativity. This band is many things, but they’re almost never boring.
Still reeling from the sudden death of bassist Cliff Burton, the surviving members of Metallica pour their grief into this collection of angry, hard-edged screeds against greed and corruption. Of particular is “One,” a musical interpretation of Johnny Got His Gun that is sublimely horrific and still stands as one of the band’s essential songs.
Raw Power not only marks the beginning of David Bowie and Iggy Pop’s incredibly fruitful collaborations, but a more streamlined and powerful vision for the Stooges. Each song hits with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, all crunchy guitars and nasty attitude-just as the purest punk should be.
The album that finally broke Depeche Mode in the US. Hints of the gorgeous darkness that would define Violator and beyond.
The best guitarist the Yardbirds ever had steps out on his own in fine fashion-and brings Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood along for the ride. Six-string wizardry with a bluesy edge, tied together by Stewart’s uniquely gravelly voice.
Before there were Don and Phil, there were Charlie and Ira. The Louvin Brothers, also accomplished in close harmony singing, present murder ballads and odes to country living with both pathos and a bit of a wink.
A gentle and slight album, ideal for a lazy Sunday afternoon. Notable for having two tracks entirely dedicated to drum solos.
A shout of joy all the way through. Iggy Pop retains his punk edge but channels it through more varied songwriting and production (largely courtesy of David Bowie), to phenomenal results.
For an album that’s often considered Kid A’s reheated leftovers, Radiohead still manage moments of incredible beauty and complexity. Jonny Greenwood is in especially fine form here.
Music to hop a train and roam the Midwest to. Before he was defined by “Okie from Muskogee,” Merle Haggard and his band spun country gold out of this set of melancholy tunes.
Jam bands can be an acquired taste-some people love the expansive improvisation, some people find them aimless and pretentious. At Fillmore East manages to find a balance between these extremes with tight musicianship and some truly impressive guitar work (sadly Duane Allman would pass away only seven months later, leaving this album as perhaps his crowning achievement.)
During the recording of this album, Ray Charles became one of the few black artists in the early rock era to gain complete creative control of their music. He puts that control to phenomenal use here, interpreting folk and country standards with a blistering R&B flair.
A barnstormer of an album front to back. Heavy but melodic guitars, pounding drums, and Eddie Vedder’s iconic growl combined with introspective lyrics make Ten a grunge classic and one of the best debuts of the 90s.
Marvin Gaye has, perhaps, one of the most soulful voices ever put to wax. Most artist wouldn’t be able to make a truly “sexy” album without veering into crassness or cringe, but Gaye manages to craft something that is both tuneful and sensual.
Smooth as butter and packed with genuine feeling. The cover of “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” is top-notch.
Gangsta rap may have been conquering the charts, but a few lighter efforts like this one managed to slip by. LL sounds like he’s having fun, and the beats are mostly decent, but there are too many misogynistic and clunky lyrics to call this a truly classic album.
Ocean Rain is so much more than just “the album with that one song from Donnie Darko.” Filled with dreamy arrangements and obtuse vocals, it’s strangely reminiscent of the alt-pop that would develop in future decades.
There are interesting ideas and good beats hidden here, but they’re stretched out and repeated until they’re nonsense. The plot is lost.
It wasn’t the first concept album, but Tommy is arguably the one that made it a viable art form-and changed the Who forever. Towering, anthemic, and surprisingly vulnerable at times, nearly every song is a gem.
Eminem reacts to his newfound fame, with his trademark tongue twister rhymes. There’s fantastic production by Dr. Dre, and some lines are genuinely funny, but the pure shock of Em’s debut feels stale here (not to mention the shocking amount if homophobia and misogyny-I mean, there’s an entire song in which he imagines graphically murdering his ex-wife).
A spooky and atmospheric listen. Perfect for a slow afternoon, though the opening track could have used some editing.
Sprawling, messy, imperfect-but what a listen. Stevie and Christine are both absolutely on fire here.
Probably best when the listener is in fact partaking, but a good listen regardless. A trip-hop staple that takes the ears on a woozy odyssey.
An album that manages to combine danceable melodies with esoteric vocals successfully is rare indeed. If only the vocals weren’t buried so deep in the mix on some songs.
Released early in the pandemic and at the height of the Black Lives Matter protests, Black Is encapsulates that moment in history with blunt lyrics and glittering production. By all means dance to these songs, but your brain will be getting even more of a workout.
After two albums full of balls-to-the-wall hard rock, Led Zeppelin starts its third outing with a shining example of the same-and then says “okay, enough of that, let’s get weird.” From swampy delta blues to sprightly English folk, Zeppelin broaden their horizons and have a damn good time doing it.
Epic in scope but shockingly intimate lyrically, a project almost too ridiculous to succeed that somehow does. Wainwright’s vulnerability is his best quality.
Pure, shiny, hook-driven pop, and that is by no means a bad thing. Jim Kerr sounds great here.
Recorded in the last months of his life (and released two weeks before it ended), You Want It Darker is Leonard Cohen’s final masterpiece, reflecting on the pain and sadness he endured with a sense of acceptance-in the end, it might just have been worth it. Gravelly-voiced with spare instrumentation, this is a truly special listening experience.
The moment when Beyoncé Knowles became BEYONCÉ and firmly secured her place in the musical pantheon. Unafraid to express her sexuality, fully confident in her talents as a singer and ambitions to be an accomplished woman, she offers a beautifully realized sonic odyssey.
Deceptively bubblegum with a punk center, the Cardigans bring an edge to their work that sets it apart from similar American groups. Lovefool will forever remain their signature tune, but songs such as Been It, Choke and their spaced-out take on Iron Man are just as fulfilling to listen to.
An incredible melding of hip-hop and jazz, each track flowing seamlessly into another. A Tribe Called Quest adeptly make social commentary both fun and funny.
If at first the music seems too discordant and harsh, don’t be deceived. There’s a method to Monk’s madness, and soon the beauty and complexity of each track unfolds in a dazzling display.
Guitar virtuoso Steve Howe enters the fold, and at last Yes finally begin to understand what they’re capable of. Unorthodox arrangements and bewildering lyrics, Jon Anderson’s ethereal voice, Chris Squire’s delicate bass, Bill Bruford’s jazz-tinged drumming, Howe’s commanding guitar-all combine for a true prog masterpiece, and the start of a truly epic run for Yes.
Would probably have earned a 4 if not for the Phil Spector of it all. Still, the vocal harmonies are very pretty and the arrangements suitably peppy.
Loud, raucous and a hell of a lot of fun. Phil Lynott’s charisma and talent are evident even in a purely audio format.
Suzanne Vega has a sweet vulnerable voice and a poetic way with lyrics. It’s just a shame that these tend to get buried in mixes that are a bit too spare to support them.
Sailing on the lazy jazz river. Smith’s dexterity on the organ compliments the horn section and rightfully helped popularize the instrument.
Harsh, discordant and chaotic. The most acquired of acquired tastes.
An album which starts with one of the most misunderstood songs in popular music and never lets up the pace. Springsteen is an essential American voice , exploring the myth and reality of this country’s ideals and giving dignity back to the working class.
Madness pay tribute to their English roots with a dizzying mix of music hall, jazz and ska. Would probably be a 4 if not for the incredibly racist “New Delhi.”
A bunch of trust fund kids shouldn’t be able to make music this rough and rebellious, but somehow they hit the sweet spot. New York City Cops kicks ass.
Definitely lives up to its name. Layers upon layers of the very smoothest jazz, delivered as only Miles and his band can.
Having gone electric the previous year, Dylan further expands his sound and lyrical prowess. The musicians are sharp, the words sharper, the experience thrilling.
The man who perfected the Bakersfield sound doing what he does best. Bright and lively, if a bit samey.
The guest roster is impressive and the beats are textured and memorable. Arguably Kanye’s last great work before he descended into the sad, hateful man he has become.
The Queen influence is strong here, and generally that works in Muse’s favor. Matt Bellamy has many opinions about many things, and he seems passionate about them, but those feelings don’t always translate to entertaining, compelling songs.
America was changing, and Bob Dylan had his finger directly on the pulse. Through nine of the best tracks of his career, he expresses youthful fury and maturity beyond his years, at once poetic and clumsy, soulful and fierce.
A strange little album that works both as a whole and when considering each track separately. Somehow both folk-tinged and coldly experimental.
Her greatest triumphs were still ahead in her all-too-shirt life, but Amy Winehouse comes roaring out of the gate with a self-assured debut. Slinky, playful and sensuous.
Johnny Cash’s voice may be hoarse and tremulous with old age and illness (he died just under a year after this album was released), but it is no less powerful and achingly sincere than it was in his prime. American IV’s greater moments come in Cash’s interpretations of songs like Hurt and In My Life; while staying true to the original spirit of these pieces, he adds the hindsight of the joys and trials of his own life, which results in a tremendously moving listening experience.
How refreshing to hear psychedelic 60s music that didn’t come from the US or UK! An intriguing combination of bossa nova, pop and rock.
Knowing Syd Barrett’s tragic life story inevitably colors any listen to The Madcap Laughs with sadness and regret over what might have been. Though there are undoubtedly moments of brilliance, the sound overall is unfinished and nervous.
Beck’s idiosyncratic style finally reaches a wider audience on this, his fifth album. He’s unafraid to experiment, gleefully flitting between styles while keeping his quirks.
The beats are decent and the concept is amusing, but the flow is too sleepy and the lyrics seem shocking and gross just for the hell of it (count the number of times words like vomit, rectum and rape show up). Appealing to a very niche audience.
When the album opens and closes with two of the strongest songs in the Rolling Stones’ catalog, one could be forgiven for assuming the middle’s not much to write home about. But songs like Midnight Rambler and Let It Bleed showcase the Stones’ willingness to diversify their sound and make it darker (and, poignantly, feature Brian Jones’ final contributions to the band he helped form).
Heroes is spacey, unapologetically weird, with chords of vague menace and sly humor-and a treat all the way through. The title track remains one of Bowie and Eno’s towering accomplishments, building to a throbbing emotional climax.
Woodface is uneven, and perhaps a bit too weird lyrically to appeal to some listeners. But there’s a real joy in these songs, and the spirit of collaboration is alive and well.
Johnny Marr really is an underrated guitarist, knowing just what tones to give each song and delicately weaving them around the other instruments. It’s just a shame Morrissey is in especially whiny form here.
To the very end of his life (which came just two days after Blackstar’s release), David Bowie was unafraid to dip his toe into new musical waters; long past the point of having to prove anything to anyone, he still drew inspiration from hip hop and electronic music, art rock and jazz, blending it all into a dazzling, deeply emotional sonic symphony that stands with the very best of his work. A beautiful end to a singular life.
Usually prog and pop don’t mix, but Supertramp have found a way to combine them to generally favorable results. Some of the songs on the B-side are a bit too long, though.
The concept behind this record (the soundtrack to a noir film that doesn’t exist) is more interesting than the record itself. Several tracks do conjure up a nice spooky vibe, but not nearly enough yj warrant a repeat listen.
Making the “we have Björk at home” joke might be going a bit too far here-some tracks have an almost sinister air that’s appealing. But Fever Ray is similar enough to Iceland’s biggest musical export that one comes away feeling disappointed for what could have been.
What a wild time Sam Cooke’s live shows must have been! His passion and intensity are felt through every note of this album, as he wrings sincerity from each song.
An album best suited for late-night listening. Dark and ambient, if not really exceptional.
Janis Joplin has a voice that may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but you just know she’s pulling emotion from the depths of her SOUL. She elevates what would otherwise be unremarkable blues rock into jagged-edged paeans to love, freedom, and the eternal search for happiness.
Many genres are present here, but they’re not blended as well as one might hope. The singles are leagues better than the album tracks.
Some of the loudest, nastiest, sleaziest proto-punk you’ll ever hear, and that’s just how it should be. The New York Dolls laid the groundwork for so many bands they followed, yet they remain underappreciated.
The rhythms are airtight, the synths punchy, Mark Mothersbaugh’s vocals yelping along at just the right pitch. But the magic of Devo really takes hold once their real meaning clicks: wicked social satire masterfully painted with sci-fi and kitsch.
The album that told the world Smashing Pumpkins were here to stay. Excellent fuzz guitar work.
Proved soul wasn’t dead with the advent of the 80s, it just needed to adapt. “If You Think You’re Lonely Now” (yes, the sane song Mariah Carey references in “We Belong Together”) is a stone classic.
Gasoline Alley calls forward, at least in tone, to Stewart’s later American Songbook recordings. If you’re a fan of his you’ll like it, if not you may find it slow going.
Folk stripped down to its barest elements: a guitar and a voice, singing simple truths and stories of life. Feels as though it’s always been around, somehow.
One of the great debut albums of the 70s, Steely Dan skillfully walk the tightrope between polished pop and avant-garde experimentation. Not a single truly weak song in the bunch.
Smooth disco grooves and sweet harmonies. The deep cuts might just be the best songs.
U2 enters the 90s with a darker sound, becoming more critical of modern society and amping up the attitude. And yet for all that, the remarkable tenderness of “One” might be the album’s highlight.
Dreamy and definitely carries dub influences. The last track didn’t need to be 8 minutes long.
Paul and Art explore the journey from birth to death with their trademark sweet harmonies and Paul’s exquisitely crafted lyrics. And there’s some songs from The Graduate as a bonus!
Music for weirdos and creeps, with solid riffs and lyrics exploring macabre subjects. Good, but not great.
D’Arby has an extremely dexterous and soulful voice. Sadly, the production and arrangements are painfully dated.
There are some lovely melodies at play here, and the lyrics are clever. But the whole album comes off as somewhat cold and remote.
The back half of this album is the best, when the band is really cut loose and wails. Neil was just getting started on his run of true classics.
The roof was not only torn off the sucker, it was catapulted into space. Irresistibly magnetic.
The band really cooks, and the songs dealing with death are interesting. But Perry Farrell’s voice is going to be a dealbreaker for a lot of people.
Explosive, passionate and pin-precise. The Godfather of Soul could work a crowd better than almost anyone.
The tremendous voice of Annie Lennox soars effortlessly over Dave Stewart’s revolutionary synth soundscapes. While the title track remains an all-time classic, songs like Love is a Stranger and The Walk also stick in the mind long after the album is done.
Gary Numan breaks off from the Tubeway Army and predicts the future. The Pleasure Principle is a masterwork of synthpop, setting a precedent for the coming decade, robotic and alien but somehow not overwhelmingly cold…it’s pure genius.
There’s no denying the lushness of the production or the ambition of the arrangements. But with over 50 collaborators, Ladies and Gentlemen… suffers from too many fingers in the pie: the listener is left unsure exactly what Spiritualized intends this album to be.
All killer, no filler. John Fogerty’s originals are some of his very best, and the band breathes new life into the covers.
The Who come out of the gate swinging and hit a respectable double. They’re not quite the titans of rock they’d become just a few years later, but they’re full of fire and clearly know their blues influences.
The orchestra is excellent. The band are fine, and might be better if they weren’t relying so heavily on the not terribly beloved Load and Reload.
A decent party record, with swagger to spare. The rhythm section is probably the strongest element.
The Gun Club’s greatest legacy is their influence on groups like the White Stripes and Japandroids. A frustrating record at times, but nice in its slower, more contemplative moments.
A guaranteed cure for insomnia. Red Eyes has some life to it at least.
Billy Bragg and Wilco join forces to complete unfinished Woody Guthrie lyrics (at his daughter’s request) and not only do right by the legendary folk artist, but perfectly meld their own styles as well. The kind of record made to be heard around a summer campfire.
Spare but not sparse. Springsteen brings an aching melancholy to each intimate moment.
A jazz-kissed odyssey to find the world, and find oneself. Jaco Pastorius does phenomenal understated work here.
Some interesting ideas. But the sings could stand a little editing and the vocals don’t always mesh.
As far as debuts go, it isn’t terrible: Dire Straits were fairly fully-formed right out of the gate. But too often Mark Knopfler’s playing feels restrained, and of the songs on tap only “Sultans of Swing” has endured as a classic.
Abrasive and discordant. Fits the decade it was recorded in, but it’s not for everyone.
The vibes are immaculate. Jazz and funk never sounded so good.
One of the pillars of shoegaze. Nowhere, despite its title, does in fact go somewhere-managing to combine tight arrangements with a general hazy feeling.
The moment Elton John finally ascended to pop royalty. Bernie Taupin delivers some of his richest, most emotional lyrics and they pair perfectly with Elton’s powerful delivery.
The first album by Yes’s classic lineup (Rick Wakeman having joined not long before), Fragile is a gorgeously composed and eternally fresh triumph. The band is at the very peak of their power, creating songs that are both accessible and musically complex in ways that intrigue and delight the ear.
If you really want to hear Paul Rodgers sing, go for Free over Bad Company. A largely dull and repetitive record-no wonder the title track is the only one played on rock radio these days.
Yes, it’s sublime 80s pop, but Kate Bush would never just stop at that. She weaves a landscape of dreams and nightmares, longing and love, sex and anger, that never fails to dizzy or entrance.
Before Peter Gabriel struck out on his own, he gifted Genesis with a stunning concept album. Exploring life, death, sex, and the idea of really knowing oneself, The Lamb is a dizzying journey through the metaphysical.
Riding the shimmering cosmic groove on a sea of funk. Disco perfection.
Take on Me, for all its enduring power, isn’t even the best song on this album. A surprisingly strong collection of textured songs which show that a-ha deserved more of a chance (at least in the States).
Murky and glowering. Though it’s not for everyone, there’s no denying that Ian Anderson is an incredibly nimble flute player.
A landmark in Brazilian music, celebrating both the traditional and the modern. Overly long, but charming.
Richard Thompson brings the same warmth and beauty to his solo work that he blessed Fairport Convention with. The invaluable assistance of his then-wife Linda really elevates these simple songs.
Talk about coming out of the gate swinging! Janelle is fearless, endlessly inventive, and absolutely revels in getting weird with it.
One of hip-hop’s most important female voices turns out a slightly unwieldy banger of an album. As moving as it is vulgar.
Perfectly pleasant dream pop. That being said, Goldfrapp’s best work has a harder beat behind it.
To capture the essence of an entire state in one album seems an impossible task, but Sufjan Stevens manages. Stevens weaves a delicate web of music and has clearly done his research in regards to significant people and places (one of the standout songs is about the horrific crimes of John Wayne Gacy…no, really).
The patron saints of Riot Grrl sonically tear the place up with endearing attitude and effortless cool. Feminism for a new generation.
Bonkers in the best way possible. A heady mixture of African drumbeats, pop culture references and giddy yelps that helped herald the birth of new wave.
It was obvious from the jump that Beyoncé would become a superstar, but Kelly and Michelle certainly aren’t slouching on this collection of belters. The front half is much stronger than the back.
The chillest of chill-out music. The perfect vibe for the coming spring.
America’s unofficial Poet Laureate of the 1960s continues to up his lyrical game. Drawing from the Bible, classic literature, and the absurdity of modern life, Dylan delves into labyrinthine metaphors and casts a critical eye on a rapidly changing country.
Gloomy and industrial, but with a surprisingly heartfelt core. Not for everyone.
Loud and fun, with Richie Blackmore really excelling on his solos. That being said, Machine Head is the more cohesive album.
The Stones go country (mostly), and in the process start to discover what sets them apart. Every member is on fire.
The last artistic expression of a life cut tragically short, Pink Moon is Nick Drake’s soul poured onto vinyl. Loneliness and despair, made beautiful.
Of its time, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. That cool jazzy dance sound has endured for a reason.
Ray Davies continues his growth as a songwriter and explores the English class system with an acid pen. Tasty riffs, pretty harmonies.
It’s pop, it’s soul, it’s punk, it’s Dexys. Kevin Rowland knew exactly what we wanted and he made it happen.
Captures what it’s like to be a young person-and especially a young woman-in the new millennium better than almost any other young artist today. Lorde is a rare talent.
A practically perfect pop confection, over-the-top and irresistible. Never has being a loser in love felt so good.
Sometimes an album is so seismic in its influence that it’s required listening on that basis alone. And while this reviewer might prefer slightly more melodic punk like the Ramones or the Clash, without the Sex Pistols and their loud, defiant filth those bands might never have gained a foothold. Nothing was ever the same after Johnny Rotten proclaimed himself an Antichrist and anarchist.
Before he was the king of ambient music (and supremely creepy music videos), Richard D. James was a teenager eager to experiment with synths and see where it lead. And where it lead was a collection of beautiful, disconcerting sound that belied greater things to come.
Nine Inch Nails if Trent Reznor was both a terrible person and a musician of negligible talent. The backing band is competent, but the lyrical content is so disgusting and upsetting that any vestigial enjoyment is obliterated.
The rare double album that’s all killer, no filler. Through acerbic wit and tight musicianship, the Clash send out a siren call to all disaffected youth, and its potency is still undeniable today.
A throwback to hip-hop’s underground roots. Great beats with tongue-twisting lyrics.
Rotten no more, John Lydon explores his real musical influences, the ones that would have gotten him firmly kicked out of the punk scene he and the Sex Pistols helped establish. The record as a whole is rather dark and uninterested in being slick or commercial, and that’s commendable even in the less enjoyable moments.
The band doesn’t really start cooking until two or three songs in, but an enthusiastic Japanese audience and increasingly loose and playful vamping make At Budokan one of Cheap Trick’s essential albums. Drummer Bun E. Carlos in particular is a delight to listen to.
One of the most important rock albums ever made. Heavy, dark, nihilistic, irresistible.
Less raw than many of their contemporaries, with a horn section that adds a tinge of ska. The lyrics aren’t much to write home about though.
Widely considered the first country rock album (although Michael Nesmith was dipping his toes in the pond beforehand), the Byrds combine this extremely homespun American art form with a burst of colorful psychedelia. It’s refreshing and played beautifully, especially by guitar virtuoso Gram Parsons.
Perhaps the quintessential American punk album from CBGB’s crown jewel. Roars in like a lion, bashes one about the head, never overstays its welcome, unashamedly goofy, great fun.
The final record released before his sudden (and still mysterious) death, Figure 8 sees Elliott Smith in a surprisingly jovial mood. Dreamy fragmented songs take listeners to a place between the celestial and terrestrial.
From the ashes of Lifehouse rises a stunning group of songs, speaking of a new collective consciousness and the power of music to giveth and taketh away (and also “My Wife”). Ferocious, expansive, a band at the top of their game.
A lot of this has been done before and better, by the Stones and other beat groups. Probably would have enjoyed it more if the first track wasn’t about the systemic rape of enslaved black women.
The final installment of the Ditch Trilogy, in which Neil Young mediates on death and despair. Rough around the edges but with Young’s trademark soulful lyricism, Tonight’s the Night sees one of Canada’s musical treasures rediscover the joy of music and performance after the massive success of Harvest.
There are some strong songs here-What’s Love Got to Do with It, Show Some Respect, a cover of the Beatles’ Help! that turns it into a mournful gospel plea-and of course Tina is in possession of that marvelous voice. But the rest of the writing and production is too inconsistent to elevate Private Dancer to true greatness.
A prime slice of operatic cheese, outrageous and sleazy and mostly fun. Jim Steinman and Mera Loaf are a match made in glam heaven.
Though the TV special it was intended to soundtrack never materialized, Arthur still stands on its own as a fully formed and beautifully realized story. Exploring the trepidation of moving to a new country, the devastation of war, and the sneaking suspicion that life isn’t as happy as it seems, Ray Davies pens some of his most aching and revealing songs.
Technically a jazz album, but Blood Sweat & Tears spice it up with elements of rock and folk plus a robust brass section. They’re not reinventing the wheel, though there’s a pleasant time to be had regardless.
Drum and bass can be entertaining in small doses, but it was never meant to be listened to for over 2 hours straight. Probably felt fresh and daring in ‘97, mostly a drag now.
The album that spawned a thousand imitators, and wholly unique for its time. Autobahn is driven, relentless, cold but weirdly beautiful.
Talk about going out on top. By turns soaring, playful, gentle, wistful, Simon and Garfunkel remind us one more time why they are masters of their craft.
Sad music, but the kind of sad that comes on late at night when you dwell on every fucked up thing you’ve ever done to someone else. Worth it though.
The delicate guitar work, that haunting siren voice, an entire lifetime of pain expressed in yearning for what can never be again. What an incredible body of work we were robbed of.
Containing one of the most misunderstood songs of all time, the final record by the Police reduces their reggae influences in favor of flirting with world music. The obvious tension between the band members is a little too obvious at times, but this is still a pretty good way to end things.
The building blocks of krautrock. Abrasive and forgettable.
Quiet and contemplative, Fred Neil sounds like he’s seen some shit but he doesn’t regret any of it. It’s a shame his discography is so small.
How does a band follow up a seismic cultural juggernaut like Nevermind? By embracing a harsher sound, being completely honest about how much celebrity sucks and makes their problems worse-and crafting another masterpiece in the process, even if it takes years to be seen as such.
On their first album (the only one to feature Syd Barrett), Pink Floyd make it clear from the outset that they aren’t interested in playing by anyone’s rules; their psychedelia is especially weird and dissonant. Rough in spots and not especially compelling in the second half, but proof enough that the Floyd would really start cooking down the line once they’d gained a bit more experience.
A last nod to the dance sound of the 90s before the dawn of the millennium. The song featuring Nik Kershaw is a real highlight.
This record is the equivalent of shooting up LSD into your earholes. Intriguing for a song or three, but probably not for an entire album.
Competently performed rhythm and blues, and admittedly it’s refreshing to hear a British group from this time NOT slavishly trying to copy the Beatles. But the Stones hadn’t quite found their spark yet, though this isn’t a terrible first step down that path.
Gang of Four drag post punk into the future and in the process create something almost timeless. Brash and cynical.
The beginning of Stevie Wonder’s incredible 70s run. Does both funk and slow jams with stunning ease.
The Beach Boys’ lost masterpiece is at last given the arrangement it has so long cried out for. Deeply emotional, satisfyingly complex, it represents the apex of Brian Wilson’s songwriting skill.
Brutally raw and vulnerable. Maybe Joni’s best album-there’s a few contenders for that title.
Music needs a dose of experimentation, but it’s possible to go overboard. Just did not understand what the band wanted the listener to feel.
A strange, strange trip from a strange, strange man. Flows surprisingly coherently.
Jeff Tweedy is undeniably a talented musician. But toward the end this album felt like one long drone.
A ton of fun, with deliciously layered samples and a relentless tempo. Arguably Norman Cook’s crowning achievement.
Jeru is something of a proto-MF Doom, with his buttery smooth flow, tongue twisting wordplay and jazz tinged beats. Even if not every track is a winner, this album is still an excellent example of what the mid-90s underground could produce.
What a tragedy that this is the only Joy Division album Ian Curtis lived to see. His raw expressions of alienation and sadness set a new, glittering standard that alt bands are still copying today.
Some interesting experimentation, providing the foundation for many alt rock groups to come. But did it really need to be 70 minutes long?
A pleasant psychedelic country rock…thing. Probably could only have existed in 1969.
Tuneful power pop. But they definitely weren’t the…only ones making it, and there are better options out there.
The defining musical work of Bush-era America. Angry, snotty, melancholic, a blast.
Wacky as fuck glam rock but your favorite band’s favorite band. Sparks’ greatest strength is their utter revelry in their weirdness (that and incredibly precise musicianship).
A decent start for Spiritualized. Dreamy and floaty.
Unwieldy as double albums often are, but with moments of incredible beauty and majesty. The end of Zeppelin’s truly classic period.
On the Beach was largely unavailable (through legal means) for over 20 years, and that’s a damn shame-it just may be the best entry of the Ditch Trilogy. Though Young still grapples with feelings of alienation and depression, tracks like Walk On indicate that he knows better times are just over the horizon.
The concept behind this album, exploring the legends of the Brocken Witch, is more interesting than the album itself. Often it feels as though the band have simply lost track of what they were attempting to say.
Made as The Bee Gees were phasing out baroque pop in favor of the funk and disco sound that would define them for much of the 70s (and arguably beyond), Trafalgar is a perfectly acceptable group of songs. The brothers Gibb shine on harmonies as only they can, but How Can You Mend a Broken Heart proves to be the only real masterpiece of the bunch.
Still riding high off the phenomenal success of his ‘68 comeback special (and finally free from the interminable grind of soundtrack albums), Elvis incorporates soul and blues into his repertoire. From the edgy swagger of I’m Moving On to the quivering pathos of In the Ghetto, he demonstrates great range and passion.
New Order close out the 80s with an album both spiky and dreamy. Not something they’d ever really done before.
Real roots reggae, which manages to have laid-back island flavor and burn with anger at the oppression of poor Jamaicans all at once. Genre-defining.
One of the most aggressively French albums ever made. But that’s by no means a bad thing: even if the listener doesn’t speak the same language, Brel’s wit and warmth shine through.
Bombastic and lurid, but still retains a certain delicate melodic quality. A modern classic.
Costello and his group indulge in studio experimentation, and the results are largely impressive. One of their best.
Dwight Yoakam’s world-weary affect and twang bring life to this rather safe collection of songs. The guy’s seen some shit.
Such sparkling instrumentation, and such deep sadness. Another fine effort from Drake.
Somehow the Crusaders perfectly captured the feeling on record of wandering rain-soaked city streets, cigarette dangling from your lips, wondering what the hell it’s all for. The ultimate vibes album.
The nephew of sitar legend Ravi Shankar puts his own poppy spin on the instrument. With a mixture of covers and ragas, Ananda proves what a versatile instrument the sitar truly is.
A lyrically dexterous, hard-hitting tale of crime and the streets as only a member of the Wu-Tang Clan can deliver. Bonus points for multiple J Dilla samples.
Essential early rock n roll flavored by New Orleans jazz. Careens to 27 breathless minutes and every one is a delight.
If you aren’t tapping your feet to at least one of these songs, then what’s the point? Machito’s best-known album is bursting with life and endlessly appealing rhythms.
Anyone who can try to make experimental music more accessible deserves commendation. But many of the most interesting nuggets of ideas are lost among aimless noodling.
A true tour de force, disparate sounds coming together to form a symphony. All hail Frank.
The listener will probably appreciate this album more if they partake, but it’s a fine reggae album regardless. Tosh brings his signature humor to the proceedings.
Melancholy and meditative. Somewhat reminiscent of early Johnny Cash.
Raw, vulnerable, defiant, slick. Astonishing how much is packed into just 35 minutes.
At last, a British electronic music album that doesn’t outstay its welcome. On their masterpiece, the Prodigy thumb their noses at convention and turn in a hard-hitting collection of fabulous songs.
The concept album that really isn’t, but in the end becomes something wild and wonderful. The Summer of Love in one package.
Kissed with cool. A beautiful melding of sax and guitar.
The powerful voice of Beth Gibbons anchors this essential triphop album. Downbeat, but not in a way that leaves one drained.
One of the shining gems of soul, perfectly capturing the restless times in which it was made. Marvin Gaye’s finest hour on record.
The Sex Pistol’s former manager goes way the fuck out there-and while the results may not always be listenable, they’re never boring. Yeehaw.
Unless the listener is fluent in French, there probably isn’t much to be gained from listening to this. The melodies (har har) aren’t strong or memorable enough to carry the album on their own.
Very reminiscent of its time, but that’s not a bad thing. Surprisingly melancholic in places.
The music is pleasant enough, but the lyrics. Ugh.
There’s precious little music from outside the English-speaking world on this list, so it’s fascinating to hear what was popular in other countries during your own childhood. Khaled is an immensely talented and emotional singer, really pouring himself into his songs.
A quintessential lying on the floor and thinking about why he left you while the rain pours outside and the heater’s on the fritz album. Simply superb.
Smooth flows that flow smoothly between tracks. A tribute to what came before and an optimistic screed on what came next.
Donald Fagen steps out from Steely Dan and reflects on his early life. Cool and contemplative.
Impossible to hear without feeling at least a little Irish. Grimy, with plenty of spirit.
The oldest album on the entire list, and one of the very first concept albums, centered on the thoughts that plague us late at night: our failures, our loneliness, our wistful hopes. Beautifully sung and arranged.
60s pop and 90s club culture combine to form a largely pleasing mixture. Very summery.
A decent start for the Chemical Brothers, if less propulsive than their later work. Surprisingly dreamy.
U2’s magnum opus. Expansive, without being too pompous.
Glam out your ass. All vibes, no thoughts.
Some really lovely guitar work here (fits the name). Unfortunately everything else is just average.
Sonic wankery. Boring.
One of the nastiest albums ever made. I love it.
A significant album in the drum and bass subgenre. When it’s good, it’s incredibly atmospheric; when it isn’t, it drags.
Tales of misery and woe from a guy whose voice sounds like he’s Seen Some Shit. The duet with Kylie Minogue is particularly lovely.
Light on the edge of genius. Wow.
Childhood in postwar Britain, told in heartbreaking detail. Pink Floyd’s last truly great work.
Big, dumb, loud fun. Significant only for being Bon’s last album.
Tango with a jazzy twist. Never would have guessed they were French!
Quintessential Marley. Celebrates Jamaica’s spirit while criticizing her faults.
A (slightly) kinder, softer Black Sabbath. Changes is actually quite lovely.
Some great moody introspection here. Still, I’d probably take this off the list in favor of Mezzanine.
It’s mythic, it’s deeply spiritual, you can practically taste the cocaine. Typical Bowie W.
One of the great English folk albums. Classic ballads are lovingly given a modern twist, heightened by the ethereal voice of Sandy Denny (gone far too soon).
Brian Johnson steps into the late Bon Scott’s formidable shoes and revitalizes AC/DC. The lyrics are your typical macho fare, and the back half is much stronger than the front, but there’s an undeniable power behind the melodies.
A mishmash of genres that suits Faithfull’s smoky voice. Could perhaps stabd to ge a bit longer.
A once-in-a-generation triumph, the kind of record that rips apart the zeitgeist and puts it back together in new and exciting ways. There is before Nirvana, and after Nirvana, and thank god.
One of hip-hop’s truly essential records. Fun, complex, satisfying.
It’s nice to see more female musicians on the list. Unfortunately, this album is quite average.
A live album that’s genuinely fun to listen to! Sarah Vaughan encompasses both elegance and a sense of mischief.
Not great, not terrible. Competent.
Good on the Residents for making exactly the kind of music they want. It’s definitely not for me, though.
Mariah does sound lovely here, and songs like Honey and Breakdown are pure 90s RnB goodness. But too many of the other tracks meld into ballad malaise to call this album truly great.
Though many of the songs most associated with the beginning of Elvis’ career aren’t present on his debut, this is nonetheless a fine collection of songs which shows just why this Mississippi boy held the youth of America in thrall. Energetic and playful.
A blockbuster of an album, raw and multifaceted, topped off by maybe hip-hop’s greatest protest song? Sign me up.
I don’t think shoegaze is the genre for me. All this album did was give me blaring headache.
Paul Weller: Pete Townshend’s successor in writing mod-influenced songs bemoaning the plight of the middle class. Jangly bright and fun.
Yes, Big Iron has been memed to hell and back, but it’s still a great introduction to this group of surprisingly emotional tunes of the Old West. Comforting and straightforward.
It’s alright. But it could have been better.
Even if I didn’t already think Van Morrison was an absolute twat, I doubt I’d enjoy this album very much. Apart from the title track none of the songs have much juice.
The Queen of Soul ascending her throne once and for all. Wow.
The only band that matters crashes onto the scene with their unique brand of melodic, socially conscious punk. Essential.
A bold statement from the former frontman of Genesis, continuing his exploration of world music and post punk. A triumph.
It’s new wave post punk disco tinged perfection. Debbie Harry please step on me.
Lyrics have never been Metallica’s strong suit, but the the instrumentals here are powerful and bombastic. A landmark of early 90s metal.
A deeply affecting album about womanhood by a complex and add troubled artist. Smooth and sensual.
At times it felt like the songs would never end, and not in a pleasant way. Some good ideas are buried in the mire though.
One of classic rock’s quintessential live albums. Perhaps too long and overwhelmingly indulgent, but stellar renditions of Highway Star and Space Truckin’ are enough to recommend it.
Not a fan of the extreme misogyny, but Snoop’s flow has never been smoother. And those G-funk beats are perfection.
Significant as Dave Grohl’s first post-Nirvana project (and entirely self-produced), but perhaps clinging to much to the musical identity of his former band. The Colour and the Shape would have been a better choice for this list-Everlong alone justifies that.
Lush and gorgeous RnB. Deeply evocative.
What voice Siouxsie has! Dark and ethereal, it compliments these gothic arrangements perfectly.
Their last album had underperformed, they were struggling financially, their managers controlled them with an iron grip, and their guitarist had almost died (twice). Yet in the midst of all this chaos Queen produced an almost perfect jewel of an album: redolent with exquisite vocal harmonies, a mishmash of genres that come together in a heady bouquet, and which points the way to their triumphs yet to come.
“Drive” is great. The rest is disappointingly average.
Propulsive, slightly nervous, indebted to a dozen different genres. Perhaps their greatest album.
Clapton was never the greatest guitarist in history-he wasn’t even the greatest guitarist in the Yardbirds. Boring, boring, boring.
Perfectly fine mid-decade pop. Nothing much to say.
The robots learn to dance. A little warmer than their previous work.
It’s fine. A bit drowsy.
Though the group splintered because if it not long after, the Specials’ second album benefits from the various styles contributed by each member. Trip hop’s grandpa.
This record is profoundly strange: a bit hokey, splashed with psychedelia and dark in ways no other beach boys release had ever been. The masterful ending couplet of Til I Die and the title track are some of Brian Wilson’s best ever work.
It’s Blitz! remains their magnum opus, but Fever to Tell is a worthy debut for Yeah Yeah Yeahs and a high point of the early 2000s garage rock revival. Karen O is a queen.
A bit like if drowning in a swamp was a pleasant experience. Too samey to be anything more than fine.
Punishing, yes. Kiss? Not nearly as pleasurable.
Catchy and hummable, while also being sweet and melancholic. Several all-time classic singles here.
A bit discordant for my tastes. But it’s fine.
Generally tuneful, but elementary compared to what the Beatles were doing at the same time…Aftermath is no Revolver. (I listened to the UK version, not sure how much of a difference that makes.)
A distinctly American art form flys across the pond. Chaotic, fresh and fun.
Not quite the undeniable triumph of Cohen’s debut. However, it’s still packed full of heart-rending poetry.
Let me be very clear: this rating is not for the singer (by this point we’re all well aware of what he did), but for this album’s place in pop history, and for the talented musicians, backing vocalists, songwriters, engineers and producers who helped create it. And also Vincent Price, who earns two stars on his own.
One of the all-time great hip hop albums. Pulsing with energy and swagger.
Perfectly acceptable new wave. Listening to the reissue that adds their signature song “Reward” to the track list is recommended.
Some funkified samba by a Brazilian legend. Tremendous fun!
The combination of the slickness of new wave and the edginess of post punk is an interesting one. Heralds the dawn of a new decade.
Incredibly juvenile and far too long? Oh undoubtedly. But are there moments of genuine dumb fun and some good riffs? Shockingly yes.
In the shadow of 9/11, Bruce got the E Street Band back together and recorded this fine collection of songs about love, loss, and finding the will to go on after tragedy. Not quite at the level of his greatest work, but well worth a listen.
Harsh but melodic. A good listen.
Nakedly vulnerable and simmering with righteous anger. “Fast Car” is untouchable.
Melancholy in a way that sets your teeth on edge. A good beginning.
Jazz-influenced beats and rather silly lyrics make this a refreshing departure from the darker hip hop prevalent at the time. A fun listen.
A landmark in post punk. A scrappy, do it yourself attitude really bolsters these songs.
Not the peak of sophistipop, but listenable. The cover of Money’s Too Tight (to Mention) is the highlight.
A gorgeous poetic tapestry. For all their discord offstage, Paul and Art conjure something special on record few other duos ever have.
The runtime might seem a little intimidating, but this hour and 10 minutes passed surprisingly quickly. Adams is melodic and forthright.
Still sounds ahead of its time 42 years later. Spooky and atmospheric.
A beautiful, chaotic, almost overwhelming listening experience. Everyone is at the top of their game here.
Pleasant Irish-flavored pop. “Come On Eileen” is of course the standout.
Tellin’ some solid if not especially interesting stories. A good listen.
India’s most celebrated sitar player (a teacher and lifelong friend to George Harrison) gives the listener a brief overview of Indian music before playing several ragas. Absolutely astonishing work.
Very talented band. But not for me.
I prefer Coldcut’s later work. But this a fine album nonetheless.
Dreamy and lush. Very beautiful.
There is but one Kate Bush: a wild woman, beautifully fragile and a force of nature all at once. Somewhat uneven but still highly listenable.
Much too long, and a fair number of these songs end before they can really get interesting. But what does stick around to be developed is pretty good!
Really solid, sparkling pop with some tight harmonies. Knowing Me, Knowing You might just be one of the all-time great breakup songs.
Raunchy, funky, and sprinkled with eclectic guest appearances. A delight.
It’s a little difficult to listen to this young optimistic Britney knowing the hardships she’d face later in life. But buried among the filler are several excellent bubblegum pop singles, with the crowning jewel the immediately iconic title track.
Sludgy and disquieting. An interesting debut.
Easily the pop album I’ve heard make the most use of the didgeridoo. Not quite as earwormy as Jamiroquai’s later work, but a solid beginning.
There’s a decent argument to made that this is their masterpiece. Psychedelia, baroque pop, hard hitting rock, children’s rhymes, they’re all here and all spectacular.
ABBA’S final album (for forty years anyway) and a darker, more melancholy take on their signature sound. Surprisingly effective!
Wild indeed. Sleazy, but melodic.
A fine slice of psychedelic rock. “I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night)” isn’t talked about nearly enough.
I’ve heard far worse post-hardcore, but I’ve also heard much, much better. In one ear and out the other.
A collection of sweet, gentle country songs. Really wish the genre was more like this currently.
So twee it sets your teeth on edge. Couldn’t wait for it to be over.
Too long and the singles are markedly better than the rest. Still, can’t beat those California vibes.
Surprisingly hilarious, brimming with heart and rough around the edges. An instant classic.
A substantial improvement from Rod’s debut, bluesy grit and sweet folk combined for a potent mixture. Maggie May is a great song of course, but the rest are worth exploring too.
Sonic Youth finally figure out their sound. Sludgy, discordant, yearning.
Would probably have been a 5 if not for several songs being stretched thin and the Clapton of it all. That being said, the real star of this album is Duane Allman-his slide guitar work in particular is transcendent.
Grimy and lived-in in the best possible way. Waits has seen some shit.
Bursting with energy from a group of supremely talented musicians. Fela Kuti’s life is well worth reading up on.
Napalm Death is a band that appeals only to certain kinds of people. That number does not include me.
By turns slinky, yearning, fun, and raw. Excellent, and heartbreaking wondering where she might have gone from here.
An immaculate blend of hip hop and world music, sonically expansive and irreverent. M.I.A. still makes music, but she’s never bettered this album.
Noisy with completely incomprehensible lyrics. Not for me.
Phil and Don gave us some of the sweetest, purest harmonies ever recorded in popular music, and that alone is enough reason to listen to this album. But the simple tuneful songs are early rock n roll at its finest.
Led Zeppelin by way of the American South. Nowhere near as transcendent as that band’s best work, but still a pretty good time.
Like spooky mountain ghosts echoing through your headphones. It rules.
The Yardbirds’ finest musical hour, anchored by the fluidity and inventiveness of the late, great Jeff Beck (perhaps the best guitarist the group ever produced?). A fun departure from the beaten path of the more well-known British Invasion artists.
Lives up to its title in that it’s a short album and is indeed about love. Overwhelmingly sincere, almost to the point of being saccharine.
Even with minor missteps like “Thank You”(lovely but inconsequential) or “Moby Dick” (excellent musicianship but lacking something without the visual element of Bonham attacking the kit), Led Zeppelin II proves that the group’s proto-metal bombast wasn’t just a fluke. Every element is harmonious and hard-hitting.
Predates Tommy as one of the first rock operas-and while not as influential as the latter work, S.F. Sorrow is still unafraid to experiment with lyrics and instrumentation to create a slightly unsettling and dreamy listening experience. Very good.
Never quite decided what it wants to be. Still, an interesting artifact from the turn of the millennium.
A mostly effective combination of Celtic folk and rock music. Something of a harder-edged Dexys Midnight Runners.
A stone classic from the first note. Springsteen earns his place as one of America’s great storytellers.
Grungy and just a little out of the box. Emblematic of the decade.
Featuring future members of Talking Heads and the Cars (Jerry Harrison and David Robinson respectively), the only album by the Modern Lovers is a jittery, jaded rumination on 70s youth culture. A signpost of what was to come in the decade ahead.
Brian Wilson at the height of his power, proving why he just might deserve the title of America’s all-time greatest pop songwriter. Exquisitely wrought in every facet-a true masterpiece.
Death metal absolutely isn’t for everyone. But this album is satisfyingly brutal.
It’s a shame the La’s only released one proper album, but what an album it is. A little jewel of jangly pop excellence, with the timeless “There She Goes” its crowning achievement.
What harmonies! You can’t listen to this without coming away feeling peaceful and relaxed.
It’s fine. Won’t feel the need to revisit it, probably.
Some nice electro pop. But sadly rather uneven.
Scrappy and mean, but weirdly listenable. A hidden gem.
A concept album about the awful power of nuclear weapons and what they have wrought on our planet. Well worth a listen.
A vital moment in music history, lovingly remastered. Whether you prefer Bob armed with just his guitar and harmonica or backed by the prodigious talents of the Band, the renditions of Dylan classics presented here are vibrant and crackling with energy.
A disarmingly low-key but exquisitely written collection of songs. The lyrics are well worth paying attention to.
The primary appeal of KISS lies in the spectacle-the facepaint, the lights, the pyrotechnics. Take that away and you’re left with songs that are at best middling, at worst barely competent.
There are flashes of occasional brilliance. But overall the album reeks of “we have Pink Floyd at home.”
Philosophical and lyrical, with tongue-twisting rhymes and a heavy martial arts inspiration. A worthy addition to the Wu-Tang oeuvre.
Norman Cook’s best work was yet to come, but as an intro to the Fatboy Slim machine you could do a lot worse. The beats are usually hard hitting right where they should be.
Perhaps one of the most raw, achingly vulnerable explorations of one person’s pain ever put to tape. It could be argued Lennon never quite reached these musical heights in his solo career again.
Satisfyingly grungy and lo fi. Almost sounds ahead of its time.
THE quintessential Britpop album, and Oasis’ masterwork. Big singalong hooks, 60s-inflected guitars, and a smooth flow from one song to the next.
Emblematic of their era. Not much here for me personally.
Not a fun album to listen to, but of course that’s the point-the Disposable Heroes are here to push a socially conscious message, and that’s fine. It would be nice if the beats weren’t so monotonous, though.
One of the purest examples of a performer connecting with their audience. Cash understands these imprisoned men implicitly; he’s funny, he’s honest, and he plays a lot of damn good music.
Cool and elegant. A very classy album.
Kurt’s widow produces her Nevermind. Not quite as epic or polished as that album, but hits hard when it needs to.
There’s no other artist quite like Björk-whether you consider this a positive or negative depends on you. On Vespertine she delivers a set of supremely bizarre but touching songs about human sexuality and the desire to feel connected.
Propulsive and raw, unafraid to tackle social issues, with the modern classic “Cult of Personality” kicking things off in explosive fashion. Captures the state of late 80s America perfectly.
A modern interpretation of songs written in post-WW1 Berlin. The arrangements may not be for everyone, but most of the tunes capture the feeling of hopelessness that pervaded Germany not just when these songs were written, but in the midst of the Cold War.
A bit overlong, but still expertly rhymed and produced with a cool jazz air. Could very much do without the gay slurs though.
Overly ambitious in the worst way possible. Self-important, rambly, and not very interesting.
The sort of live album that makes you feel like you’re in a cozy café on a rainy afternoon, nursing a coffee and enjoying some supremely talented musicians jamming together. Loose, improvisational and relaxing.
Ridiculously fun, spirited and raucous. The quintessential mambo record.
The beats are generally decent, but the lyrics are the very worst of early 2000s homophobia and misogyny. 50 himself would never earn a place on a list of greatest rappers.
A master class in how to layer samples to create something entirely new and fascinating. A sonic journey worth taking.
Breezy, propulsive early 90s alternative. It’s not reinventing the wheel, but the wheel’s still rolling along at a pleasant pace.
A good deal less profound than it thinks it is. But still an alright album.
Trashy glam fun. If I happened to be in a bar where these guys were playing, it would be fairly unobjectionable background noise.
Yeah, it’s not bad. Morrissey’s still a prick though.
The title track is a classic, and several other songs have decent energy to them. But one gets the sense that this album falls short of its potential.
Kate Bush and Bjork via California, almost timeless in its themes and sound. The average score for this is way too low and most of you should be ashamed of yourselves.
Highly polished but spare music with literate lyrics. Not bad.
As with many of these 90s techno albums, it’s far too long. But some of the songs have merit.
I don’t entirely agree with the consensus that this is the Stones’ best album, but it’s an able example of their rough and tumble blues. Charlie Watts is astonishingly rock solid here.
Traffic’s first lineup was falling apart behind the scenes while this was being recorded, but hearing these songs you’d never know it: the band is tight and harmonious, their jazz and prog flourishes a joy to hear. Steve Winwood is one of the most soulful white boys in music for a reason.
Released seven months after the death of Kurt Cobain, this is the Unplugged which looms over all others and for good reason. It’s flawed, emotionally resonant, strips great songs down to their formidable bones, and stands as a last flowering of one of the most important bands of the decade.
I was not expecting to be blown away by this, and yet the flow, the poetic lyrics, it all works. The rerelease which adds “Dear God” as the final track only improves it.
Nasty and brutish. Definitely not for me.
Perfectly fine and indicative of the times. Too long, as many of these early oughts electronic albums are.
Even without the inclusion of “The Weight” (arguably one of the most perfect songs ever written), Music from Big Pink is a stunning collection of songs. Folksy, at times impenetrable, they feel almost as though they’ve always existed.
As rock n roll stampeded over practically every other form of music, Count Basie threw a wicked right hook for big band and swing. The Atomic Mr. Basie is both elegant and packs a sonic punch.
Yes, this is where that song in The Exorcist came from. But more than that, this is a staggering work by a 19-year-old musical prodigy: even with its flaws, it’s highly complex and ambitious.
“Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone” remains one of the quintessential songs of the 70s, but there’s plenty more to enjoy on this record. Incredible harmonies and tight musicianship abound.
A perfectly adequate showing by the Bad Boys from Boston. It’s interesting to reflect on facets of rock music in the years just before grunge tore it all down.
If sea shanties were indie rock. Very much an acquired taste.
Not as emotionally naked as Plastic Ono Band, and some songs leave a little to be desired. But when Imagine is good (“Jealous Guy,” “How Do You Sleep?” and even the title track for all its oversaturation), it’s REALLY good.
Polished, accomplished pop. A nice listen.
An incredibly clever and fun concept album designed to imitate a radio station—complete with ad breaks! And it foreshadows that the Who’s greatest work was just around the corner…
A glittering jewel of an album, a time capsule of the turmoil of mid-70s America as only Gil Scott-Heron could examine it. Along with the considerable musical gifts of Brian Jackson, they make a formidable team.
Nothing quite as iconic or catchy as “The Girl from Ipanema” here, but still pleasant overall. Welcome summer vibes in the winter.
Overly long. Not terribly interesting.
Ornette Coleman was a great jazz musician and his work deserves to be celebrated…but I’m not sure this is the way to do it. The beauty of the arrangements is lost in a cacophony of blistering drums and screeching trumpets.
There’s a ramshackle charm here that really makes each song a pleasure to listen to. Sounds surprisingly modern considering it’s 40 years old.
Even without the presence of “Take Five” (one of the most iconic jazz songs ever written and still the highest-selling jazz single of all time), the album of the same name would still be a gem. Dave Brubeck and his quartet experiment with unusual time signatures to dazzling effect, by turns playful and melancholic.
Some really fire bass lines here. But there’s definitely other New Wave groups i prefer.
One of the defining albums of the sixties sneaks in near the end of the decade and blows the roof off the joint. Dynamic, propulsive, heavy.
One of those albums that’s just as good as, if not better than, its reputation suggests. A sweeping collection of songs that lay bare the heart and mind of their author.
Mariachi meets indie rock. A fairly unique listening experience.
The Doors if they weren’t insufferable. A nice mix of folk and psychedelia.
I’m not quite as enamored of this album of other reviewers seem to be, but i do enjoy Marc Bolan’s slinky vocals and twisty wordplay. It’s interesting to wonder what he might have accomplished were it not for his untimely death.
The birth pangs of punk. Raw and unfiltered.
If Oasis were the Beatles, Blur were the Kinks: not as beloved worldwide, but still an interesting listen for their willingness to experiment and their skill at both lambasting and celebrating British culture. Not sure if Parklife is their best album, but it’s up there.
What a phenomenal way to start 2024! Holiday’s smoky, world-weary voice is the perfect instrument to bring these standards to life.
One of the easiest 5s I’ve given in the course of this project. A legendary band at the very zenith of their power, every song slamming into you like a freight train.
Before Björk fully let her freak flag fly, she was a part of this Icelandic rock group. Quirky solid fun, even if any of the songs are too short to really make an impact.
Definitely an album made to appeal to diehard tango fans. But no one can deny the musical proficiency on display here.
Definitely not for me. Exhausting.
Perhaps not as giant a step as the title would have you believe. Still, an alright listen.
70s adult contemporary is not an especially beloved genre for me, and many of these songs suffer from the curse of sameness. But there’s no denying the power of Karen Carpenter’s warm lovely voice, which especially shines on “We’ve Only Just Begun” and “Crescent Noon.”
Van himself is a twat of the highest degree, but Astral Weeks largely deserves its reputation as his masterwork. The sound of a dewy spring morning caught on record.
Croz strikes out on his own with a beautifully crafted collection of folk, featuring a stacked guest list. A last remnant of the late 60s.
I’ve officially hit the halfway mark of this project with the debut album of perhaps nu metal’s most cerebral band. With lyrics concerning such heady subjects as the Armenian genocide and government corruption, SOAD burst onto the scene with energy and enthusiasm.
What a lush, tightly produced album. Just imagine what Dennis might have accomplished had he lived.
Nothing here I couldn’t get from listening to Bob Marley. Meh.
Fiona Apple gives the cabin fever and uncertainty of the early COVID lockdown a soundtrack. It’s loopy, it’s rough around the edges, it’s undeniably her.
Stunningly gorgeous. Indian classical music has a mystique and beauty all its own.
Lean, tight, and featuring a healthy sense of humor. A gem most Americans have probably never heard of.
Kid Rock is a lying misogynistic talentless hack. He doesn’t deserve a review wuth any effort.
Like many double albums, this could stand to have some fat trimmed here and there. But Stephen Stills has assembled a top-notch group of talented musicians, and the concept of a different musical style per side is an intriguing one.
Delightfully loopy, unapologetically sax-drenched punk. God bless Poly Styrene.
Taking classic prog into the new millennium. Dense, cerebral, mesmerizing.
Goofier than I was expecting. Not too bad.
Absolutely impeccable harmonies from three queens of country (or who are country-adjacent). A lovely listen.
Glam metal has never been my genre, and Def Leppard has never rocked quite as hard as they claim to for my taste. Still, songs like “Photograph” and “Rock of Ages” have a certain poppy charm.
Not bad, but not exceptional either. Pretty representative of its time.
I certainly wasn’t expecting this album to be quite so…horny. It’s honestly a little off-putting, but Buckley’s pleasant voice and the jammy instrumentation are enough to push through to the end.
Two stars for the backing band, who are far more interesting to listen to than Van himself. It’s not too late to stop listening to this slog.
In this country the Libertines are most famous for the tumultuous personal life of their frontman Pete Doherty (though googling shows he’s gotten sober in recent years). This record reflects that chaos, its tracks charmingly ramshackle.
Some good old-fashioned Texas country. Yeehaw.
A poignant, simple country record by one of the best to ever do it. Wow.
I’ve heard wordy, silly hip hop done better (see: De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest). Still not bad though.
An album that defies most all types of categorization, including whether it’s “good” or “bad.” It’s chaotic but was deliberately planned to be that way, it’s secretly an homage to several genres, it’ll turn your brain to soup.
Abrasive and uncompromising. It can be a tough listen, but a pretty solid one.
Some of the smoothest babymaking jams you’ve probably ever heard. Full of soul.
When an album starts with one of the quintessential Dylan covers, you know you’re going to have a good time. Propelled by Roger McGuinn’s beautiful jangly twelve-string and impeccable harmonies, the Byrds prove why they deserve their title as one of the great folk rock acts.
It’s no Gnarls Barkley, but it’s still more interesting than most anything Cee-Lo had made since. Still a bit too long though.
Finally, a 90s British electronic album that doesn’t overstay its welcome. Some interesting samples here.
There are some very pretty melancholy songs on this album. It’s just a shame that Nico doesn’t quite know how to utilize her limited vocal range to make them soar.
Not as strong as their first album, but still a great demonstration of what these guys can do. “Expecting to Fly” and “Hung Upside Down” are underrated highlights.
Slipknot ditches nu metal, and in the process loses some of what made them stand out. Still, frontman Corey Taylor carries a sufficient menace in his vocals and the arrangements pack a punch.
Over 20 years after his (possibly solved?) murder, Tupac Shakur remains a towering figure in the world of rap. This album ably demonstrates why: his wordplay and flow are top-notch as he wrestles with the complexities of the world he came from and the world he now inhabits.
Manages to encapsulate the feeling of dream pop without being too lightweight. A good listen.
The Queen of Pop shows she’s quite comfortable on the throne, even if her status was starting to slip by the turn of the millennium. The lyrics are a bit clunky, but the beats remain danceable and her confidence shines through. (Side note: Don’t Tell Me was cowritten by Madonna’s brother-in-law Joe Henry, who has a highly underrated music career of his own—including his own take on Don’t Tell Me on his 2001 album Scar, though there it’s called Stop. Extremely recommended!)
You ever create an album whose birth is so torturous that it leads to your band (temporarily) breaking up? Odessa is notable mostly for the streamlining of The Bee Gees which would enable their incredible 70s run, but it’s also an above-average baroque pop collection.
A modern classic, blending 60s soul sensibilities with crisp production. And what a voice.
The best of what the Cure can do, beautifully melancholic and almost baroque. “Lovesong” is an all-timer.
SZA’s best work was yet to come, but her debut provides her with a strong head start. Dreamy and defiant.
So Goth it hurts. Moody and mechanized.
A shining example of limitations breeding creativity. A sonic odyssey that, unlike many of its contemporaries, never drags or feels uninspired.
One of those 5s that creeps up on you, slowly impressing its brilliance on your ears. Weird and wonderful.
Extremely relaxing, almost hypnotic. You could meditate to this.
Cool, with an almost elegant sleaze and immaculate production. A lot more to dig here than just the popular singles.
One of the crown jewels of psychedelic rock. Immaculate in every respect.
Not the equal of any of his work with the Smiths, but perfectly acceptable. Some interesting arrangements.
A sprawling and ambitious double album that really does sound like it picked up where the Beatles left off (with a healthy dose of the Bee Gees for good measure). Slightly unwieldy but a good time.
One of those albums that sounds like it was around for years before ever being recorded. Rough and dark.
The birth of trip-hop. A little clunky, but very ambitious.
The beats are actually pretty good! But I don’t think the audience will find Shock G as clever and humorous as he seems to find himself.
A gorgeous time capsule of the folkier side of the late 60s. Airy light and extremely accomplished lyrically.
Michael finally steps out from the shadow of the Jackson Five and delivers one of the last great classic disco records. Even the slower songs have an incredible vitality.
Spare and unsettling. Not for everyone, but worth a listen.
A forerunner of punk that really doesn’t sound like anything else from the 60s. Scrappy and raw.
Bloated and samey, but the energy is decent. Pyromania is better.
Radiohead steps away from rock and enters a realm of endless possibilities. Electronic loops and crazy time signatures.
Average in every metric. Yawn.
A bit surprised by how much I enjoyed this! Ballsy and straightforward.
Karma Chameleon is easily the album highlight, but the rest is perfectly fine synth pop. Pleasant and sunny.
Rip It Up? More like Tear It Gently.
Weak production and perfunctory lyrics. Skip it.
It’s rare to hear a debut that so clearly illustrates an artist’s personality and vision. Catchy and hard-hitting.
Smooth and sensual. The perfect babymaking record.
George Michael proves he’s so much more than half of Wham!. Pulsing club bangers meld seamlessly with heartfelt ballads.
Deserves every single bit of the praise it earns. How amazing that two people can create such a huge, powerful sound!
Not nearly as weird as Trout Mask Replica, but still delightfully quirky and energetic. A nice melding of genres.
Fine Britpop. Nothing exceptional.
A surprisingly accessible record by an artist known for experimentation. Feels out of time, but not disconcertingly so.
Krautrock isn’t my thing. But this is fine.
Not quite an artistic marriage made in heaven. Jobim is perfection on the guitar, but Sinatra seems ill at ease with boss nova.
Shades of both the Ramones and the Hives in this glammy Norwegian band. Crude but a lot of fun.
Almost has a homemade feel to it. Barebones but charming.
Peter Gabriel’s masterpiece, expertly combining both radio-friendly hits and more experimental music, both categories full of emotional and instrumental complexity. Essential.
A perfectly acceptable effort. Could have tried harder with the lyrics though.
The already-acclaimed CSN welcome the incredibly gifted Neil Young: two great tastes that taste great together. Firing on all cylinders.
Even leaving aside the stacked guest list (Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Linda Ronstadt, the Everly Brothers, King Crimson’s Adrian Belew—just to name a few) and stellar production, Graceland represents Paul Simon at the height of his lyrical power post-Garfunkel. He can be playful, wistful, sober…but he is never ever boring.
So this is salsa! Funky and delightful.
There’s more polished, outrageous glam rock out there, but on the whole this is pretty good. All the Way from Memphis has stuck around for a reason.
Bombastic with incredible production. Cyndi never reached these heights again, but when she did it was great fun.
All the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but in this case that’s what works. Metallica at arguably their best.
The noted punk vocalist splits off from the Blockheads to pay tribute to his hometown and the exceedingly strange people in it. Abrasive but weirdly sweet.
Not just a pillar in progressive rock, but a fantastic album in its own right. Expansive, indulgent, at times nightmarish and a bit silly, a listening experience that you’ll never forget.
Dylan back in the groove, with a record that approaches the rawness of his best work. Confessional but surprisingly lighthearted at points.
Fresh and vibrant! Not transcendent like Fela’s best work, but as an introduction to afrobeat you could hardly ask for better.
What a voice! Dusty can make even the most trivial of disagreements sound like a world-ending conflict.
A juggernaut of airtight beats and lyrics with frequently clever wordplay but also frequently tiresome bragging and misogyny. A double-edged sword that has its time and place.
A decent beginning for a band that’s underappreciated here in the US. The genre bending generally works.
I’m going to be honest, I just didn’t have time to listen to all 3 hours of this compilation. But what I did hear was truly excellent.
A superstar in much of the rest of the world, Robbie Williams has never quite managed to break through in America—and that’s a shame, because his solo debut shows a keen ear for interesting rhythms and a sharp sense of humor. This is like when Justin Timberlake broke out, but better.
Sepultura pays tribute to their homeland by incorporating traditional Brazilian chants with face-melting metal riffs. A little too long but there’s no other metal album quite like it.
Anthrax are probably the member of thrash metal’s “Big Four” that listeners outside the subgenre are least familiar with. If they wished to remedy that, though, this is where they should start: a bruising collection of alternately humorous and biting songs.
More people should be talking about Kelela. It’s rare these days to find a debut so melodically rich and self-assured.
A fresh and daring blend of multiple genres addressing racism and social inequality. Really must be listened to in full.
Like sinking into a comfortable bed with freshly made sheets. Even without knowing the political overtones of the songs, this is a great record.
One of hip-hop’s all time great debuts, joining the likes of Illmatic and Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City with vibrant production, tongue-twisting lyrics and an infectious sense of fun. And the best part is it’s FINALLY streaming!
This could be perhaps stand to be a bit MORE brutal, actually. Still good.
One of the architects of grunge and what’s probably their best work. Rough and tumble.
The list of former Bluesbreaker members is impressive, but this album features the most notable besides Mayall himself: Eric Clapton. Some of his finest-ever playing on record here.
An album so fresh and fun, constantly throwing intriguing new ideas at the listener, that it passes by in…well, a blur. If Song 2 is all you’ve heard, you’re missing out.
Starts off fabulously, but loses a bit of steam near the end. Emblematic of its time.
A big jazz band like this seemed anachronistic among the birth pangs of rock n roll, but Duke Ellington and his ensemble ably prove why they’re one of the best. Even if some of these performances technically aren’t live, they’re impressive nonetheless.
The organ was an unexpected and delightfully over the top touch! It and the crystal clear production helped dress up occasionally awkward lyrics.
An album that has a little something for everybody—smooth RnB, raucous party jams, contemplative spoken word. Really fun.
It’s incredibly impressive that Steve Winwood played every instrument on this album himself (though no surprise as he was something of a teenage musical prodigy), and there are numerous moments that tend to stick in the brain after they’ve gone. But Arc of a Diver is somewhat unfocused and lacks a bit of oomph; Winwood’s best solo work was ahead of him.
An album with its finger on the pulse of public consciousness, and a lot of soul to boot. Superb.
Super Fly not only fits perfectly with the namesake film, it works beautifully as a concept album about poverty and drug addiction apart from it too. The horns are putting in some incredible work.
The reputation of the Grateful Dead is largely built on their extensive body of improvisational live concerts—the studio definitely constrains their creativity. Still, this is a perfectly acceptable collection of late 60s folk rock.
The birth pangs of country rock. Emmylou Harris has the voice of an angel.
Not as accomplished as A Different Class, but still lyrically pointed and sprinkled with interesting melodic ideas. At its best when Jarvis Cocker is willing to get personal (see: A Little Soul, about his father’s abandonment).
Sometimes albums are so tightly constructed, so gorgeously written and performed, that they zip by in the blink of an eye. So it is with Close to the Edge, a contender for Yes’s greatest work that takes three songs and presents them as a mindbending suite.
This doesn’t really sound like a late 90s rock album, and that’s what’s so fascinating about it. Both psychedelic and alternative.
Gotta love when bands combine bouncy melodies and dark subject matter! Raw and unrelenting.
One of THE essential glam rock albums. Bold, brash, and propelled by Marc Bolan’s unashamedly brilliant slinky charisma.
So many bands spend their careers in search of an album this tightly constructed and polished—and the Cars managed it on their first go-round. They’d still produce many great songs in the course of their existence, but arguably none of their other albums provide this kind of euphoric listening experience.
It could stand to have a few songs trimmed or replaced with the bonus tracks on the reissue. But Third is a good example of what Big Star were capable of.
Rarely does an album’s title describe its contents so succinctly. There’s a vision here, and the musicians are no doubt talented, but it can’t sustain itself over runtime.
Undeniably English in the best way. Ably blends the folk ballads of the past and the weariness of the then-present.
A deeply nostalgic album for this reviewer—I can’t hear Clocks or The Scientist without remembering playing N64 games with my siblings. Pure early 00s pop perfection; Coldplay arguably peaked here.
Elizabeth Fraser, the woman you are…this album is like slowly waking from a hazy dream to a beautiful sunrise.
I got the idea after about five songs. Banhart has a lovely wistful voice, but his lyrics are lacking.
If I didn’t know going in that this was released in 1985, I never would have believed it. Timeless, it feels like your whiskey-soaked uncle rasping crazy anecdotes at you after a drama-filled family dinner.
Blistering guitars, pounding drums and commanding lead vocals from Bruce Dickinson propel what might be Iron Maiden’s crowning achievement. Dark with welcome moments of levity.
Completely bugnuts in the best possible way. Funny, piercing, mind bending.
k.d. lang’s voice is what really sells these songs. Throbbing with emotion, never drowned out by the instruments, you truly feel her happiness and heartbreak.
In danger of being dropped by their label, Rush asked for one more chance to prove themselves…and boy, did they deliver. There would be no Hemispheres or Moving Pictures or Clockwork Angels without 2112: the epic title track is by turns whimsical and brooding, and the collection of songs on the B-side displays their impressive musicianship.
Apparently these guys put on wild live performances, but it doesn’t quite translate to the studio. Decent.
Lush and overwrought, but finely drawn for all that. Rufus would have been a great cabaret performer.
This is both the best-selling solo jazz record and best-selling piano record of all time for a reason. For nearly an hour it’s just Keith Jarrett and his instrument, leading the listener on a musical odyssey, and its spectacular.
Elegant in its chaos. I’d enjoy seeing this performed as a ballet like Mingus originally wrote it.
Doesn’t quite each the heights of Soul Mining, but still solid! Heartland is probably the best track.
Even if you don’t understand a word of French (and I remember precious little of what I learned in high school), MC Solaar’s flow and the beats it’s built upon are smooth as butter and never dull. It’s not at all surprising he’s a hip-hop legend in France.
Mylo could be regarded as a forerunner of the Swedish artists that would dominate EDM/dance music in a few years’ time (such as Swedish House Mafia and the late Avicii). And in that sense he’s significant, but otherwise this is a fairly routine album with a few clever sample.
The Meat Puppets refine their sound and fully settle into their identity. The three songs that the Kirkwood brothers performed with Nirvana during their Unplugged set are probably the best, but every song is worth hearing.
Just before grunge ripped the scene wide open, metal bloomed like a hothouse flower. Lean, brutal, with incredible guitar work.
Punk unlike any you’ve heard before. Not just the organ, but the distinct tint of new wave.
Standards performed simply and sweetly. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it doesn’t have to.
One of the rare live albums that deserves to be played just as loud as the real band (within reason). Thunderous, always just a hair away from chaos, and every member at the height of his power.
The title track remains an all-time classic, speaking bluntly about crime and poverty in the inner city, but there’s plenty of other grooves to be enjoyed here too. Definitely more mellow in parts than I expected.
Not quite as gripping as her earlier work, but still very pretty, Worth a listen.
If your knowledge of Hugh Masekela’s music starts and ends with “Grazing in the Grass,” you owe it to yourself to listen to this album. A mix of jazz, blues and traditional South African music, it’s complex and joyful.
For those of us who remember “Don’t Know Why” being everywhere back in the day, the rest of the album proves that Norah Jones earned her accolades. Silky smooth and reminiscent of gentle summer rain.
A nakedly emotional chronicle of a disintegrating relationship. Visceral and biting.
The singer’s high register is unpleasant to listen to and the melodies are formless. No thank you.
The most notable album from the band most people my age only know for trying to sue Led Zeppelin (and losing). There’s nothing here quite as interesting as those legendary rockers, but it’s still tuneful blues rock.
I’m sorry, but this is NOT better than Nevermind, I don’t know what Spin was on. It’s not bad by any means, but it’s not transcendent.
I’ve always admired that Fela Kuti spoke truth to the political situation in his native Nigeria, regardless of the personal cost. By expertly combining African and American musical styles, be compelled people to listen and made a difference.
A direct response to the 1992 LA riots, and even if the impact has lessened somewhat with time these lyrics still hit fairly hard. How much and how little has changed.
Sometimes you just need some good old back to basics rock n roll. Peggy’s best work was before him, but this is a promising debut.
By turns goofy and passionate about social issues, combining rock and rap in a way that had never been done before, Raising Hell is perhaps Run-DMC’s ultimate artistic statement. Special mention to the late Jam Master Jay, crafting incredible beats on the turntables.
There are much more exciting bands from the San Francisco psychedelic scene to listen to. Competent but dragging.
When Damon Albarn teamed up with Jamie Hewlitt, it changed music forever. Demon Days is Gorillaz’ masterwork, but their debut whets the appetite for genre-blending, giddy excess.
If the Kinks had gotten their start in the 90s, this is probably what they would have sounded like—and that is a compliment. “Common People” is an all time great social satire.
Nothing revolutionary, but still a nice throwback to the music I enjoyed in my early teens. It did make me giggle to realize I knew “Get Free” from Weird Al’s “Angry White Boy Polka.”
There is a beautiful, profound sadness to these songs, truly like a window to the soul. The beginning of an all-too-short career.
Best known for “Valerie,” if you know them for anything at all (a song that these days definitively belongs to Amy Winehouse), the Zutons were part of a glut of British alt rock bands in the early 2000s—and not a very memorable one. Too concerned with being clever at the expense of Melody and meter.
Wistful, layered psychedelia. Perfect for a summer day.
It’s possible to make a concept album about the American South without repeatedly using a word white people should not, under any circumstances, be saying. Really.
The Queen of Pop sits securely on her throne—and with power comes the freedom to expand. Taking on themes of religion, domestic strife and death, Madonna sets herself up admirably to continue conquering the world in the 90s.
It’s something of an uneven debut, but Basement Jaxx still prove they’ve got the juice and a bag of interesting tricks. The interludes keep things moving along smoothly.
The platonic ideal of a folk singer-songwriter album; Taylor has such a pure sweet voice, and his lyrics conjure vivid imagery. “Fire and Rain” is a stone classic, and hits even harder once you learn what it’s about.
Expertly produced, all three members of the group know their role and weave their parts beautifully. Perfect.
Like a punch to the face in the best possible way. Unapologetic and emotional.
Proto-Britpop, paving the way for the likes of Blur and Oasis. Rubs out of steam by the end, but still has a handful of decent ideas.
Like a good cup of coffee—dark, bitter, comprised of many layers you may need a while to parse. Still sounds fresh.
Billy Bragg was 29 when this album was released, yet sounds as though he’s lived a lifetime. These songs are REAL, raw and spare.
Tracey Thorn has a lovely delicate voice and some of the lyrics are poignant, but this album blends into much of the other adult contemporary around at the time. You could make killer vaporwave from some of these tracks, though.
The answer to the question “what if Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen were mediocre writers and had no personality in their voices?” A chore indeed.
There’s so much JOY in these songs. You can tell how much Maal enjoyed creating and singing them.
Some good ideas that get beaten into the ground. Perfectly average.
Not as cutesy and flowery as first impressions would suggest. Some real poetry here.
Loud, dumb and flashy, with some incredible instrumental prowess. David Lee Roth still can’t sing for shit, though.
Garage rock at its rough-and-tumble best. I bet their live shows were a ton of fun.
The last album by the original Doors lineup has isolated moments of decent rock padded by meandering blues and edgelord poetry. During these moments I amused myself by imagining how embarrassing Jim Morrison’s 80s musical output would have been.
One last triumph, a lingering question of what could have been. Forever the greatest.
Could stand some trimming around the edges, but holy hell, what a funky sexy good time. Points the way to Prince’s musical supremacy.
Snotty, darkly humorous and tight as a drum. The Viva Las Vegas cover is a grungy twist on a classic.
Yes, Morrissey is a smug nasty piece of work, but most of the time it works to his music’s advantage. It fits the slinky arrangements quite well.
It has a vitriolic bite that isn’t unpleasant to listen to. An improvement over her debut.
Look, either you like jam bands or you don’t, and I’m pretty sure I’m in the latter camp. Still, the Dead aren’t untalented musicians, and I fully acknowledge the historical significance of their work.
As twisty and salty as the food in its name. Maybe their best album?
An explosion of creativity, of joy, of anger and spirituality and wistfulness, all of the things George couldn’t express in the Beatles he finally lets loose in a sprawling symphony. It just may be the best solo album any of them ever made.
A reflection of not just the tension in the band, but the tension in the country. Still timely.
The original Walk This Way really has no juice compared to the Run-DMC version, huh. Why is this here?
Slightly alien-sounding and eerie, like a half-forgotten tune from late night radio. Could perhaps benefit from some tightening up.
Astonishing flow, complex storytelling, consummate beats, right out of the gate you could tell Kendrick was something special. His dedication to his craft and mastery thereof has only increased. (And in light of recent events, that “Poetic Justice” feature sure is awkward.)
Early goth rock that would benefit from better production. Not bad.
I could never truly dislike an album whose opening track explicitly decries fascism. Some great funk on this one!
The answer to “we have Dylan and Springsteen at home.” Occasionally interesting, mostly derivative.
Back to basics bluesy rock, truly electrifying in its best moments (try not to headbang to “Kick Out the Jams,” I dare you). A little sobering to listen to knowing the entire original lineup is gone.
What ecstasy does to a mf. More mellow than I was expecting.
Raw, intelligent, with beats that pummel your skull. Just what punk should be.
Maybe Traffic’s last great album, a blend of traditional English folk and organ-driven rock. Beautifully balanced. (And as of today I’ve been working my way through the list for two years! It’s been a wild journey.)
Arguably THE quintessential reggae record. Marley and his band were not only talented musicians, but extremely passionate about affecting change in Jamaica.
Irresistibly smooth, but with an undercurrent of sly humor and playful sexuality. Could perhaps be a little shorter.
An extra star for the attempt to tell a coherent story. But every other aspect is just awful.
Some of the beats reminded me of drum n bass, and there are some nuggets of good ideas. But I think Ladd’s ambition outweighed his skill.
“Electric Feel” and “Kids” are stone classics, and the rest of the tracks aren’t bad either, a collection of Day-Glo psychedelia and electronic noodling. It peters out a bit by the end, but it’s still fun.
I kinda miss when Pharrell wasn’t afraid to get experimental. This mishmash of genres works much better than it should.
Very probably will put you to shleep. Wyatt’s done better.
Madonna goes spiritual. This one isn’t as immediate of a pop gem as her 80s and early 90s work, but it does grow on you.
One of the very first post punk records. Witty and tuneful.
A little formless for my tastes. But still pretty good.
The beginning of Tom Waits as we know him today. Shaggy and poetic.
The sound that gave birth to rock n roll, amped up and electric. Waters still has it.
Some ideas could stand to be more fully formed, but Callahan’s melancholy and yearning are powerful. Reminds me of a folksier Cohen.
Griffith is a consummate storyteller: her characters feel real and her worlds lived-in. It’s tempting to almost step inside her songs.
Sometimes you just need good, solid, unpretentious blues rock. The Black Keys deliver.
The daughter of legendary bossa nova musician Joao Gilberto proves she’s worthy of following in his footsteps. Mellow, playful, and fitting for a summer afternoon.
As far as rock supergroups go, The Last Shadow Puppets are no Cream, but their debut is still pleasant enough pop with a charming jangly 60s sound. Alex Turner’s voice is well suited for these kinds of songs.
The Pixies officially introduce themselves in spectacular fashion. Rough and unpolished and compelling all the way through.
This is U2’s best album, and not just because “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “New Year’s Day” are on it. There’s an immediacy of emotion here that’s not present on much of their later work.
Dark and broody ( which you may have guessed from their cover of Gloomy Sunday, the infamous “Hungarian Suicide Song”) but still a decent party record. Not bad.
I’ve never been a fan of UB40’s big hits, so I was surprised that I enjoyed their debut as much as I did. The lyrics protesting racism and class inequality were a nice surprise.
Britpop that owes quite a bit to the Kinks and Bowie. Pleasant.
Even if you don’t think much of Lou Reed’s singing ability, you can’t deny his talent at creating a fantastic atmosphere. This concept album following up on one of his earlier songs is fantastically bleak.
Costello’s best album, full stop, and it’s largely thanks to the Attractions. They’re a phenomenal backing band—tight, precise, and woven impeccably with Costello’s vocals.
Arguably every nu metal act can trace their genre back to this band—in particular this album, Faith No More’s first with Mike Patton on lead vocals. But the thing is, this is leagues ahead of every imitator; it’s fresh, funny, and brutal.
Not bad. But they’d go on to do better.
I can see why this was considered so shocking and subversive back in the day, but much of the Slim Shady LP has not aged well, to put it kindly. Still, there’s no denying Eminem’s lyrical skill and dexterity.
Excellent gothy synth rock. Robert Smith sounds great here.
Few albums manage to sound so of their time and so fresh all at once. Morisette is unapologetically herself, unloading all of her “ugly unladylike” emotions, and it just works. (Even if she doesn’t know what irony means.)
Most noted for its closing track, “Don’t You Want Me,” which heralded the breakthrough of the new wave sound (and essentially telegraphed what the next decade would sound like). Nothing else on the record hits quite as hard, but Philip Oakley is a decent singer.
It’s impossible to hear Back to Black and not think of the tragic way Amy Winehouse’s brief life ended—her struggles are woven into the DNA of every song. But there’s real joy in her work, a retro sheen to the arrangements and lyrics that deal with modern problems with a sly wink.
I could easily see these songs soundtracking Adult Swim bumps. Nothing revolutionary, but soothing.
I’m not even halfway through this album and I can already tell you what I think: dreadful, absolutely dreadful. Do yourself a favor and seek out some of the folk music from this period that’s actually worth listening to.
Very much not what the name implies. Shirley Manson is the perfect singer for these songs: defiant and world weary, but with a playful edge.
The Raiders don’t always have the full sound you want for these songs, but they’re decent performers nonetheless. They remind me a bit of the Monkees, if the Monkees were less interested in musical experimentation (funnily enough, just as the Raiders cover “Steppin’ Stone” here the Monkees would cover “Kicks” in the 80s).
Still finding their way, but Mudhoney have the heart and volume to leave an impression. That cover of Bette Midler’s “The Rose” is absolutely wild.
His Royal Badness was nothing if not highly ambitious—not all of the tracks on this sprawling double album work, but you can’t say he’s not putting in the effort. Blending subjects and genres in a stew that sometimes tastes sour, but is never boring.
CSN (and sometimes Y) was always more than the sum of its parts. This isn’t to imply that Stephen Stills is untalented, far from it, but without those stunning harmonies and collaboration this album is a bit lacking.
Probably not the follow-up to Faith anyone was expecting, and that’s absolutely for the best. It feels as though Michael is speaking directly to the listener, honest and unashamed, and it rules.
I didn’t know about Olomide’s statutory rape conviction while listening to this album, but even so I’m not inclined to give it an especially high score. It was fine, not exceptional.
After an uneven debut, Queen finally finds their voice, and it is spectacular. Prog-flavored, bombastic, glorious.
Like being struck with a sledgehammer in its best moments. Fast and furious.
Simon steps out sans Garfunkel. Clever lyrics make up for sometimes lacking melodies.
I mean, the title’s not wrong! The slower, slinkier songs are perfectly sequenced among the faster numbers, and Prima and his then-wife Keely Smith make a hell of a vocal team.
You have to be in the right mood to want to hear this, and I don’t think I was. Still, I appreciate their audacity.
A decent taste of the burgeoning San Francisco scene.Probably fantastic to get high to.
Lives up to its name: light as air and supremely relaxing. Really beautiful.
It could be argued that no songs on this album hit quite like the Terry Todd remix of “Missing” they’re trying to emulate, but Walking Wounded is still a good time portal back to the late 90s. The title track is particularly good.
The singles are generally much better than the rest of the tracks, but Timbaland and Pharrell are absolutely cooking here. JT himself is fine.
I like the concept of this record, if not necessarily the execution. Too long.
The only white boys who have any business playing reggae. Sorry, UB40.
Lush and seductive, like you’re listening to Anita perform in the coolest little jazz club. Loved it.
I’d probably need another few listens to puzzle out how I really felt about Dog Man Star—there’s so much packed into every song. I will say that losing Bernard Butler was a blow they never really recovered from.
Unpretentious, balls to the wall rock. Several demerits for the existence of “Jailbait,” but points for celebrating the road crew.
As eclectic as the film for which it was named, Emperor Tomato Ketchup paints vivid soundscapes over an electronic background. The demos on the expanded edition are worth exploring.
One of the early forerunners of heavy metal, but certainly not as interesting as what came after. Droning and repetitive.
“Jesus died for someone’s sins, but not mine”—I mean, god. Out of all the punk to come from the fertile garden of CBGB, no one had quite the poetic bent of Patti Smith.
Otis Redding (gone far too soon) has a beautiful soulful voice, but some of these songs just aren’t distinct enough from the originals to make an impact. “My Girl,” for example, is missing something without those harmonies.
Look, I love Nevermind and Ten as much as the next guy, but…this night just be the best grunge album ever recorded. Monster hooks, cutting lyrics, and a generational talent in the late Chris Cornell.
These gigs were probably fun to attend in person. Not so much to just listen to.
Still hits just as hard as it did in 1970. Truly ahead of its time.
A really smart, tightly constructed pop record. An excellent indicator of where Costello was headed musically.
One of the first hardcore punk bands, and still one of the best. Fast, brutal, bitingly sarcastic.
So different from the hits I’m familiar with, but in a good way. An instance where I don’t mind long, jam like tracks.
Despite his resurgence in popularity when I was going into my teens (“Smooth” is forever a bop), I think people forget just how unique a guitarist Carlos Santana is. On Abraxas, he and his band fuse jazz, rock, blues and Spanish rhythms into something beautiful.
Like a sledgehammer to the face, musically and in some cases lyrically. I wasn’t expecting the Jeff Beck cover but it was a nice surprise.
Having received this album after Farrell and Navarro’s now-infamous onstage scuffle that resulted in the cancellation of their tour, I suppose nothing IS shocking. And that goes for these songs too: perfectly fine in 2024, but probably more hard-hitting in the 90s.
Noisy and formless. Not my thing.
I haven’t actually seen The Virgin Suicides (yet), but this soundtrack still ably combines both the vibes of 70s easy listening and a more modern electronic sound. The voiceover on the closing track is extremely sobering.
According to vocalist Neil Tennant, this album was heavily inspired by Depeche Mode’s Violator, which you can definitely hear in the heavier tone of some songs. And while Behaviour isn’t quite a stone classic in the mode of the former, it’s still very charming and engaging.
Beyoncé’s little sister she may be, but Solange brings a totally different vibe to her music. Chilled-out and introspective.
I won’t lie, I was excited to realize that one of these songs formed the basis for one of my favorite J Dilla tracks. But that was the high point of my listening experience.
This one’s on the Mount Rushmore of divorce albums. Elegant, poetic, but with a simmering undercurrent of bitterness.
I’m not as enamored of this album as I was in my 20s, but there are still some cool, inventive tracks here. The front half is definitely stronger than the back.
If you like “Insane in the Brain,” you’ll love this. Fun, but with a dark undercurrent.
One of the weirdest Queen covers you’ll ever hear and some other songs that, while commendable for their audacity, won’t resonate beyond a specific niche. Cool cover, though.
This just barely earns a 3 for having the audacity to combine blues and punk and having some of it sound halfway decent. A curiosity.
A grab bag of all sorts of different influences, loopy and heavy. Very enjoyable.
I listened to the first disc, and I think that was more than sufficient to understand this project. “The Book of Love” sounds better when Peter Gabriel sings it.
I tried, I really did. But this just isn’t for me.
The rare double album that doesn’t feel too long. It’s like a sampling of the greatest hits of American music—a little early Beach Boys here, a little folk there.
With the arrival of Dennis Edwards, the Temptations shift into a funkier direction while still keeping their Motown roots. Of its time, but that’s not a bad thing.
This is totally unlike any Goldfrapp Ove heard before. It’s perfectly pleasant, but I think I prefer their louder, raunchier stuff.
The front half contains some beautifully played psychedelia, whimsical and sweet. The back half is an oft-clumsy fairytale that still has some enjoyable moments (I already knew “Rollin’ Over” from the Brian May cover).
I’m sorry, but in what world does this compete with What’s the Story (Morning Glory) as a seminal British album? It’s good, but it’s not THAT good.
Even when I didn’t quite understand the lyrics, I loved the beats and the general attitude. Maybe I should listen to more grime!
Pure, slinky, glitter-soaked disco perfection. Bernard Edwards and Nile Rogers were an unstoppable team.
This is the early 90s, all right. It would make nice driving music.
It’s a shame the dated production and backing vocals bring the rating down. The lyrics are actually quite lovely.
Yeah, it’s not “true” grunge, but it still lives up to the title—dirty, unpolished, and real. Thurston sounds great here.
“I hate the fuckin’ Eagles, man!” Okay, that’s not quite true—I don’t necessarily LIKE them, but I can begrudgingly acknowledge the part they played in shaping country rock.
Each song is quick and dirty, almost DIY. I wish some of them lingered a bit longer though.
This wasn’t for me. I had no idea what to make of it.
Not an album to listen to if you’re already depressed. Darkly pretty in some moments, but a little hard to get through otherwise.
God, I would have loved to attend this show! B.B., his band and his audience are all connecting with each other on a molecular level.
Nothing on here really stands out as much as Bitter Sweet Symphony. But they’re earnest, I’ll give them that.
Sonic Youth’s masterwork, featuring a band cranked up on all cylinders. I especially enjoyed the multiple songs from a female perspective.
Why was I not already listening to Laura Nyro?! That aching, vulnerable voice, those obscure and poetic lyrics…
Listening to the first half of this double LP felt more than sufficient, but I did like what I heard. Some creative use of sampling here.
The Eagles if they were interesting. Gram Parsons really elevates this collection of songs.
Full of bluster and bravado, the Faces put out some decent rockers. Even with both Stewart and Lane poking a foot out the door, they still worked well together as a unit.
The most apt phrase I can think of to describe Something/Anything? is “funhouse mirror Elton John.” Rundgren has the same kind of pop polish, but likes indulging in the wackier, slightly juvenile side of things too.
I was astonished to learn how young Apple was when this was recorded. In her vocals, arrangements and lyrics, she sounds wise beyond her years.
Helped me relax when I really needed it. Sometimes that’s all an album needs to do.
RIP Croz, you were a real one. And this album is a bonafide classic, with achingly beautiful harmonies and a potent blend of optimism and world-weariness.
Sometimes in danger of drowning under the weight of its own ambition (that 12-minute Outro was unnecessary), but Food & Liquor proves why Lupe Fiasco is still highly respected today. He’s lyrically sharp and unafraid to tackle difficult topics.
There’s something beautiful and calm but deeply unsettling about this album. Maybe my favorite Radiohead I’ve heard so far?
A deeply bitter and paranoid album, which contains a stark beauty for all that. Knowing the history behind Shine On You Crazy Diamond makes it hit that much harder.
Sometimes you can instantly pinpoint the year an album was released—and that’s not always a bad thing. Had a nice nostalgic time with this.
Enjoyed this more than I thought I would. Some interesting musical textures.
R.E.M. forge a new direction, slightly gentler in its instrumentation if not its lyrics. World Leader Pretend feels especially prescient.
I had a lot of fun with this! Shiny, campy, unapologetic disco pop—although I don’t get the hype over the Comfortably Numb cover.
No wonder Jansch has been an influence on so many guitarists (including Jimmy Page and Johnny Marr)—his style is a blend of all sorts of techniques and countries, coming together to form something unique. It’s so imperfect it’s practically flawless.
A collection of songs that is deeply introspective and moody. Interesting to consider what I would have chosen to pay for this had I bought it upon release.
Jack White will single-handedly bring blues rock back if it kills him. His first solo effort after the dissolution of the White Stripes is stripped-down and sincere.
Does anyone really remember this kind of music fondly? It’s not bad per se, but there’s nothing special about it (no, not even the Wall of Sound).
A distinctly American album from a noted British artist. Very nice.
Probably sounded better back in the day. Not great but not terrible.
Some of the most talented jazz players of the era go off the chain, and the results are glorious. I need to check out more Weather Report.
I really wasn’t expecting this to work, but I was pleasantly surprised! Even if you don’t much care for Lynyrd Skynyrd, this is a multilayered look at just what it means to be Southern—both the good and the bad.
A sweet throwback record that can’t help but lift your spirits. No wonder “Alright” has stuck around.
By turns outrageous, raunchy, angry, tender, and all of it works spectacularly. Holly Johnson has a real gift for turning every emotion up to 10.
More than just a punk record, Bad Brains flirt with funk and soul to great effect too. Genre melding that works.
The title track is one of the most overplayed, overrated popular songs in history. The rest of the album isn’t much better.
Incredibly niche and a little samey. “Apache” still slaps though.
Kind of the perfect soundtrack for a cold, snowy afternoon. Damo Suzuki’s vocals add just the right ghostly touch.
When you find out Cole wrote these songs at the golf club where his father was employed and his family lived, it kinda makes sense. A little pretentious but solid.
This was a pleasant surprise! The jazzy, classically inspired songs here are so different from what many of Talk Talk’s peers were making at the time.
Chrissie Hynde, the singer you are! She lends just the right kind of attitude to a collection of already-great songs.
With the exception of the title track, I wouldn’t call any of these songs outright classics. But they’ve got a bite, and Alice’s sardonic sense of humor is always appreciated.
There’s only one Missy Elliott—her flow and skill are unmatched, especially when combined with Timbaland’s beats. And kudos for giving multiple female rappers guest spots!
Raw and revealing, it almost makes you feel like you shouldn’t be listening to it. Beautiful.
A harbinger of the coming decade. Sleek, stylish and fun.
Not many songwriters have the gift of veering from comic to tragic with such aplomb, but Harry Nilsson did. Gone way too soon.
Those harmonies, my god. They elevate even the most middle-of-the-road cuts.
The Kinks for the 90s, sharp and wry with a real playfulness. Bigger things were ahead.
It’s not bad! But without Eno’s deft touch it’s missing something.
It’s nice to hear another Icelandic artist besides Björk. Truly spooky and ethereal.
For an album about insanity and depression, it’s remarkably easygoing and mild. A bit more grit would have been nice.
Two years after the Beatles played there on their ascent to stardom, one of their major influences captivated the audience at the Star Club. The energy of Lewis and his band is infectious, but at just 22 minutes the album is over before it really begins.
One of those albums that takes several listens to fully appreciate. A vulnerable exploration of sexual power dynamics and insecurity.
Every bit as good as the debut. Heartfelt and full.
Once you realize most of these songs are about the breakdown of Simon’s marriage to Carrie Fisher, it adds a new layer of weariness and heartbreak. The John Lennon tribute is a nice closer.
The Smiths had already imploded by the time this album was released, but they just might have saved their best for last. Johnny Marr puts in some incredible work here.
One of ELP’s great strengths was their ability to perform classical pieces with great respect, while at the same time giving them a distinctly modern twist. This might be the greatest example, with Keith Emerson in particular a master of his instrument.
It’s competently written and performed. But Arcade Fire remains frustratingly opaque for me.
Spacey and bombastic. A lot of fun.
Hardcore punk and I weren’t meant to be friends, and that’s okay. I think I found the story of Germs more interesting than their music.
I don’t want to be disrespectful to Paul Di’Anno—he’s clearly giving his all to the material (and he died just two months ago). But as good as the rest of the band is…it’s clear that Bruce Dickinson was the missing ingredient they needed to be truly great.
I listened to the Director’s Cut version of this album, featuring alternate versions of the original songs. It was fine.
As a suburban white woman, I know I’m not the target audience for Arrested Development. But God, Speech really is pretentious and insufferable at the worst of times. (“Tennessee” is still a classic though.)
There are times I don’t mind music being repetitive. It’s just that whatever’s being repeated should be interesting in the first place.
Curiously lacking in fire compared to other Attractions albums I’ve heard. Snooze.
Rap’s White Album, arguably. Sprawling, silly, sly—an incredible listen.
This really feels like you’re just hanging out in Neil’s garage listening to him play with his friends. A little rambly, but full of heart.