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 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.
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.
Spare and haunting in a way that leaves the listener oddly fulfilled. Just gorgeous.
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.