1001 Albums Summary

It's literally Michael Jackson. There's not a lot about him that hasn't already been pored over letter-by-letter by writers far more qualified than my dork ass. An absolute maestro when it came to pop songwriting and stardom, here in his earliest stages, belting out disco-infused magic. He's still a bit raw, here, and hasn't yet arrived at his full hit-making hurricane-force potential that we'll see on Thriller, but what more can you expect? It's his debut album, and he's already running victory laps with the first two tracks. Firmly deserves a spot on the list. A smooth, finger-gunning 3.5/5

Perhaps surprisingly, I have an open mind when it comes to old Coldplay (Oldplay?) - Viva La Vida was a surprisingly great listen when I tried it out a long time ago. Although I missed the time of Coldplay as a cultural monolith, I can tell why they were one to begin with. I can imagine being bored to tears by the 50th time hearing "Yellow," "Sparks" or Don't Panic" back during this album's height of cultural relevance, however, in 2023, it's all just gorgeous, smooth, machine-refined pop music. It might not be real diamonds, but it's got the same shine and polish-- and the hooks stick just as well. Possibly the easiest music ever to digest. I'm not sure how many board-rooms are responsible to thank for that. Deserves a spot. A shining, glistening, slightly overplayed 3.5/5.

I think I've already listened to most of this album over the radio (thank you 104.3 WOMC)... still, it's fantastic. I swear, that keeps happening whenever I check in on the Isley Brothers. Anyway, That Lady is a classic of funk, of course, and proof of this band's immaculate hitmaking ability during their peak in the 70's. Listen to the Music, Summer Breeze and Highways of My Life are fantastic, too. There are some points where the groove becomes slightly deniable or the tempo slows a touch too much, but this is an incredibly water-tight piece of magical funk and soul music. A gleaming, bumping and bobbing 4/5.

My streak of listening to literally anything other than The Smiths is finally over. I finally failed to outrun the Mozz. It's not the worst album, I suppose, although sometimes I found myself really wanting to listen to R.E.M. The underlying arrangements here are fantastic, no doubt thanks to the work done by Marr and Andy (rest in peace). However, Morrissey's vocals are so...? Maybe my hatred of the man taints how I feel about his voice. Sometimes he's alright, but when he really starts putting his voice out there, it's insufferable. Is this truly the most influence Andy ever has on the band's sound? Forgive me for honestly wanting a bit more of him... A wistful and wincing 3.5/5.

I can understand wanting to double-dip on Arctic Monkeys. I mean, come on, biggest band in the UK like 15 years ago and all. But... why try and mask it with this strange little thing? I'd rather be experiencing Favourite Worst Nightmare or Humbug then a puzzling supergroup that tries so hard to veer into Spaghetti Western territory, but they're still so goddamn British that it all sounds like just-okay Bond themes. The music itself is okay, but just forgettable-- Alex Turner was not meant to sing over this instrumentation (which, though lush and gorgeous, really doesn't justify an already-slim runtime sometimes). Apparently this album was removed from the 1001, which... I can see why. Someone was too hopped up on the Monkeys but they missed the forest for the trees (or the desert for the cacti). A lassoed 3/5.

Simon finally unshackled from Garfunkel. A lovely little slice of mellow goodness that simultaneously introduces a lot of comfy-cozy instrumentation while reminding us that Paul Simon was going through... quite the ride at this point in his life. The latter half of the album gets a bit too silly with it, but songs like "Duncan really do remind you that the guy's a songwriting legend for a reason. I stole his chow fun, by the way. It's the least he deserved for that haircut. A cute lil' ol 3.5/5.

One of the best albums to soundtrack Britain's era of neglect and decadence. Everything's filthy and crumbling and hasn't been maintained since Thatcher (RIH), so why not try to have as good of a time as possible until the wheels really fall off? This albums smells like tobacco tar and alcohol breath and feels like going on the best pub crawl of your life with your best mates. The riffs are impeccable, the hooks annoyingly sticky and the entire album is tightly packed into a neat 40-minute package-- nothing sticks around too long to get on your nerves. Sometimes the Brits really are onto something when it comes to hype. A shitfaced 4/5, trying not to black out at the kebab shop at 1am.

Did you know that during the recording for their first self-titled album, Santana had to be dragged away from the guitar solos? Jam sessions kept taking over all the recordings, so the band got rounded up and informed that they needed to introduce actual structure to their songs and cut down on time. They managed to perfect the mixture of wonderful, free-riding chaos and rock songwriting here. The air is warm and heavy and the guitars are roaring and you're chilled out beyond belief. What an album to just take a step back and exist in. An enchanting 4/5.

Talk about being Big - these are utterly massive songs. Reverb-drenched and tricked out with roaring saxophones and intricate synthlines that blare off into the night. All those 80s revival bands from the past decade or so? They're taking directly from Tears for Fears. It just so happens that Tears had something you can't really replicate-- ideological insight, creative focus, and a complete vision. Helps that they had such a knack for making some of the best pop songs ever written, too. Though this gag may leave you livid, four of five is what I'll give it, everybody wants to rule the world.

Lethargic. It's decent roots rock, yeah, but oh my god does it feel... *so* slow. There's beautiful moments, yes-- I love coming back to that beautiful organ on "Chest Fever" -- but this album has three or four great tracks that I'm highly certain are the reasons the album is on the list. The rest is... incredibly forgettable, with the vocals slowly going from "interesting" to "grating" over the course of any given listen. Annoyingly stereo, too. Damn Canadians got so tired making this album that they needed Bob Dylan to help out. A sleepy-ass 3/5.

I absolutely love big beat, so this was a meatball tossed directly down the middle of the plate. The songs are huge and long as fun as fuck, and Prodigy's sample-work is masterful. Even if a track starts out only *alright*, these guys no how to pull some of the greatest vocal samples of all time to elevate anything they touch into pure bliss. While I prefer the Brothers in terms of the genre's classics, this is excellent. I only wish that big beat came back any time soon. It's time for the genre revival. A raving, neon green 4/5.

There's something in this album that keeps me from enjoying it to what I presume is the intended effect. Dylan's songwriting and storytelling are magnificent, it's just that, well, his voice is so goddamn goofy that it takes me out of all the sorrow and moroseness that I was expecting to hear coming in. It sounds like he's smiling on every track-- and it's hard for me to not just smile along when I pick that up. It's still a stroke of genius, though... even with the false advertising I received. A different 4/5 than I expected to give.

While it's not yet Sly & Co's grand statement that would come an album later, this is still absolutely incredible. This album is supercharged with both protest and an indomitable sense of pure joy and optimism. When you fall into the grooves on songs like I Want to Take You Higher, you are not escaping whatsoever as it drags you around like a puppet until you can't dance anymore. Definitely needs to be played loud. a HIIIIIIGHER 4/5.

A friend of mine described this as "no-frills glam rock" before i dove in for a listen. I protested, because, well, glam rock is literally ALL frills. What the fuck is glam if not frills? It makes sense, though. If you distilled it down to its essence, this is what would come out the other side. A frilly frill-less 3.5/5

On the "cool" side of the "cool/goober" dichotomy that classic prog tends to finely tread. I only really, REALLY wish that the album was as willing to blast off into space as it's ready and willing to in its most energetic (and best) parts. My ears immediately perk up and tune right in whenever that beautiful saxophone comes in and immediately sends any song it's on into a musical odyssey, though. A bloody well right 3.5/5.

Is it bad that every time I listen to this, I just want to listen to Doggystyle? Snoop is just... so much more fun than Dre. Still, G-funk is always delicious, and I can respect a landmark album for what it is-- even if it's REALLY showing its age 30 years on, subject-wise. The Eazy-E disses just feel... weird, now. Nuthin' but a "G" 3.5/5.

I can kinda tell why this one was forgotten. It fills in the cracks around all the other early 90s indie and shoegaze that was kicking off on both sides of the pond. Still, though, for all of its genuine highs (Lazarus, for one), it has just about negative staying power. Its placement on here just feels like the UK-centric nature of the list itself overpowering actual notoriety and quality. There's absolutely zero reason for it to be over an hour, too. And on the pedestal these words appear: "3/5." Nothing beside remains.

It's kinda funny that Elvis thought his career would be over if he was away from the studio for two years. Most of my favorite artists take twice as long for one album. Regardless, though, this is... nonessential. Elvis isn't an albums guy, and it really shows here. Fever and Such a Night are great, but most everything else can be left behind in the $5 bin. Maybe he should have tacked on an extra year in Germany to think this one out more. A 2.5/5 and a conscription letter.

Can you believe that the British media tried to turn mods into the devils of youth subculture once upon a time? Kids who look like THESE goobers, supposedly violent hooligans? British people are so fucking stupid. Anyway, it's alright, but just feels like a very undeveloped version of what a lot of bands would end up carrying with them into the 1970s-- The Who themselves included. The title track is fun as hell (and probably the reason it's on here), but the rest just feels overwhelmingly eh, despite how much energy it keeps trying to give me. A mod-ular 3/5.

It's incredibly funny watching the boomers just cling to any given Bowie album, even one that arguably doesn't deserve to be on here. Like, really-- it's Bowie trying funk. It's aggressively good-- even great sometimes. But can you really say with a straight face that it belongs in the same conversation as the other *SEVEN* albums that Bowie already has on here? A 3.5/5 passing over.

An album of 90s family sitcom intros. Incredibly loving and earnest and genuine, but sometimes it's so sappy that it just blows right past me. Who approved the album art, by the way? I love the cheesiness of 90s album art, but the colors on this one just makes me a little bit sad. A Hulk-colored 3.5/5.

Okay, fine, I'll listen to the UK version. I'll sacrifice Paint it Black for what is... 50 minutes of mid. There's nothing essential about this album that you couldn't get from other Stones records besides its pure cynical reactionary take on 1960s counterculture. Under My Thumb is an unbelievably gross song that should be actively reevaluated as a classic, and the rest of the album isn't all that much better. Out of Time is okay, I guess. 2.5/5. Get out of my sight.

As soon I hear the PlayStation startup sound, I know I'm home. This is an obvious homer pick for me (why isn't Blonde on here, by the way?), but Channel Orange is still so unbelievably lush, luxurious, smooth as butter and worried sick about itself ten years after release. Turns out that money doesn't solve all your problems, especially when you're a socially deprived anxious wreck coming into the picture. The centerpiece that the whole album runs around, Pyramids, is solidly up there with the best moments of all time in music-- even compared to the highs that Frank would go to later on. If you hear drum machines and a black bi boy singing and instantly go into a defensive pose... please chill out. I can feel your racism peeking out from the veil. Stop being afraid. Just pop an edible or something and enjoy a beautiful and important record that doesn't need guitar for once. A crystal-clear 4.5/5.

Sometimes this website is nice to me. Sometimes it gives me an album I already know I'll love. Sometimes it gives me an album that I'm already intimately familiar with. Sometimes it throws a curveball and catches me looking and gives me something that I'd never have found otherwise. This falls squarely in that last category. My goodness, what a voice Gillian has. Her vocals are drop dead gorgeous, and her guitarwork is no joke either. Revelator, Everything Is Free and I Dream A Highway are worth the price of admission alone-- but just about everything here is pure alt-country gold. The southern-fried donkey in me is happy he's got another album he's been needing for his entire life. A red clay 4/5.

Adele has such a beautiful voice that I only wish could be used in more developed songs. The singles here are absolutely massive, rightfully so (I'll be loving Rolling in the Deep until the day I die), but there's... a lot more that Adele can do with her voice, I think. Imagine if she decided to delve into some more fast-paced songs and dived headlong into funk, soul or RnB. The capabilities of her voice are more than enough-- enough that they almost carry what feel like some half-baked songs here. Set fire to the 3/5.

There's some seriously dark themes for a record in which the best song is about pinball. Seriously, pick a lane-- the songs about SA are, like, RIGHT next to Pinball Wizard. It's interesting as an earlier concept album, but it's definitely not the best, most well-thought out, or most interesting concept. Most of it whizzed right past me. 3/5 letters lit up. Multiball activated!

Two mini-albums in one. You get to decide if you like Art Rock Bowie or Ambient Bowie-- personally, I prefer Ambient Bowie, but that's because I'm a devotee of one of the other big contributors to this album. Holy shit, does Brian Eno really flex his magic all over this thing. You can feel just his whole gradual transition from Warm Jets-style janky guitars and strange synths (Speed of Life, What in the World) to Another Green World and the Airports' lovingly textured ambience (Warszawa, Subterraneans) here. Those two should have collaborated a LOT more often, honestly. An electric blue 4/5.

I really hate that this album is the one that inspired synthpop. Not that I hate the genre, that's not the case whatsoever-- I fucking LOVE it. This is just one of the most pointless, uninspiring examples of it. It drains me of energy to listen to 37 minutes of okay-to-LOL material just for a genuine stroke of genius right at the end. I'd really rather something substantial, experimental, inspired AND influential be here-- what about Tin Drum by Japan or The Thousand Knives of Ryuichi Sakamoto? And I can put you back down, 2(.5/5)

I must admit, I haven't finished the album. Not that it would make much of a difference if I wrote this afterwards, though. I just can't focus or pick up on the plot at all. Ninety-four minutes of Genesis is too much fucking Genesis, no matter how good it is. I capitulate. Just make a film, lads. A film-length 3/5.

I think I figured out where The Strokes get their vibes from. Marquee Moon feels a hell of a lot more deliberate, though. Maybe just as coked out, I don't know, but trading out the horniness for some sense of deliberation that, on my second listen, I'm really starting to appreciate. Doesn't hurt that the title track is one of the consensus greatest songs of all time, either. A pondering werewolf kind of 4/5.

This album is best when it's unbearably New Order. Like, just going full-on 1980s electronic cheese. Give me those thin drums and goofy synthlines or give me death. While the jangle pop and baggy influences are just fine... come on. You can't beat songs like Round and Round, Vanishing Point or Dream Attack. *orchestra hit* *orchestra hit* *orchestra hit* *orchestra hit* *orchestra hit* 3.5/5

Goes down incredibly sweet and smooth. Although I'm more dedicated to Bloom, their album immediately following this one, Beach House managed to really strike something special here. Every song is a soft pillow for you to just lay your head down onto and drift away. So chilled out it might get freezerburn. There's a certain section of cusp millennials and GenZers that refer to THIS album when they talk about the classics they grew up. They're not really wrong. A cotton candy 4/5.

You came here for Sinatra's voice, and Sinatra provides. You can very obviously tell that this is included because the list makers had no clue what to do for the 1950s besides Sinatra, Elvis and maybe a sprinkling of Duke Ellington and Early Coltrane (No Saxophone Colossus? Seriously?) Still, this slice of Sinatra is perfectly adequate for anyone who wants to feel like they're going through a walk through the nicer parts of New York at night in the 1950s (without the systemic issues plaguing the US even harder then than they are now). Can he stop saying "make whoopee," though? 3.5/5.

Rarely does an album's title so concisely reveal its own intended purpose. He's always on the run and he's very, very lonely. What more did you want, something happy? While it's lovely seeing Merle in *some* capacity here, I can't help but think that you could quite easily swap out this for Mama Tried-- if only because then you get to listen to the title track of *that* album, one of the greatest country songs of all time. A 3.5/5 leaving town, not knowing where it's bound.

An utter classic. Few things sound as good as this album. A watertight backing band and Marvin at the peak of his vocal prowess. The kind of love this album has is interesting-- it's sensual, but not sexual. It's love for your family, your kin, your siblings, your community. A love that there's hopefully a better world down the line, somewhere. Marvin, I really want to be able to say we were able to bring about that better world. I wish I could have more time to digest this album. A high 4/5.

Ugh. I wish I could appreciate the satire underneath this album. I wish I could appreciate Nick Cave leaning so hard into post-punk. But... no amount of Kustom Kulture or self-awareness can save this. This really sucks. The production's terrible to the point where every song sounds like it was recorded through a wall-- besides the vocals, which are by far the worst aspect of the entire album. Nick Cave was not fit for growling, good lord. An ultra-compressed jpeg of Rat Fink. 2/5.

In 1957, Miles Davis invented cool. We were all better off for it. It's jazz! It sure is jazz. It's not Miles at his full potential, that's also for sure. It's... a compilation, too. Gross. I get wanting early Miles, but you could do so, so, so much better in capturing his early-1950s sound. Goes down easy, though. Wait, was this only included because it appeared on The Simpsons? Was Lisa Simpson part of the selection team? An inconsistently consistent 3/5.

Whoever the Britpop-loving motherfucker is on the board who decides these albums, I hope they get drawn and quartered when England completes its backsliding into mediæval feudalism once again. It tries its best to be quirky and satirical but it's just... it ain't got no legs. It's pleasant for a bit, runs out of steam early and it just turns into nothingness. Maybe he stole some bread. Pin him for that. 2.5/5.

This album feels a bit out of place in the timeline, arriving well after the demise of the roots rock of the past decade, but before the hypercommercialism of the 1990s put folk and country back squarely into the mainstream consciousness. I'm surprised it did so well, and very glad for that. Chapman dives into a lot of raw issues, from police neglect and economic segregation to the empty desire of wealth and desiring for a true, genuine life, with a gorgeous voice and subdued but lovely guitar and occasional synthwork (c'mon, it's 1988) to back up her message. Anyone who says Fast Car isn't one of the greatest songs ever made is lying or deluded, by the way. Mountains of 4/5s.

I've learned that I have a slight distate for music that's about drugs that doesn't make you feel like you're on the drugs in question. Especially not when it's a bad trip. This album is creaky floorboards and alcohol-soaked wooden walls. It's mildewed and scratchy and... just really not my thing. I'd never heard Neil's voice before, and... I'd prefer to not hear it again if every album of his is going to sound like this. Too sparse for it's own good. Albuquerque is great, though. Sounds like drunk driving. 3/5.

"Huh, this sounds like it should have came out in the mid-90s..." then I realize the albums in the mid-90s are trying to sound like this. Sometimes you just don't realize how influential something is before all the puzzle pieces fit together. It's messy-- almost a bit too messy for me to get a proper handle on it sometimes. The backhalf definitely gets weaker, but Gigantic to Where Is My Mind? is some of the absolute best that indie has to offer. A ramshackle 3.5/5.

Some of the biggest sounds of the 1980s. I always preferred Gabriel solo to his work with Genesis. You know, I miss this whole thing artists in the 1980s did where all of their songs are long as fuck. Yeah, it makes some of the weaker tracks unbearable, but Sledgehammer could be twice as long as it already is and I'd still sign up for it and then some. God help the stop motion animators for the extended music video, though. So... good. 3.5/5.

If y'all don't mind... Man könnte argumentieren, dass Can vier oder fünf Alben auf der Liste verdienen. Future Days ist ein unglaubliches Album. Es ist, als würde man an einem warmen, windigen Tag durch den örtlichen Wald spazieren. Bel Air ist einer dieser seltenen Songs, der eine übermäßig lange Laufzeit damit rechtfertigt, wie leicht man sich darin verlieren kann. Auch der Rest des Albums ist nicht nachlässig. Was für ein magisches Erlebnis. Wissen Sie, die Deutschen können Psych-Rock besser machen als die Amerikaner. 4/5.

Waters churns out a pretty damn good live performance here. He's got nothing to prove, already being one of the greatest blues legends of all time, but this record is especially notable with how he managed to pull off this set with the entire city of Newport, Rhode Island burning the fuck down around him. A perfectly serviceable live album, although I think there's some better representations of Muddy's catalogue that don't require the extraordinarily violent context. A riotous 3.5/5.

I knew that losing Janis was a tragedy, but I didn't realize how much of a tragedy that was. She defies a lot of the things that I've noticed I tend not to enjoy during my experiences with the copious amounts of 70s rock here. Piano-focused rock music? Typical on other records, she goes off the handle here. Playing fast and loose with vocals, to the point of losing her voice? Grating for other artists (Hello, Niel Young), but I can hear the sparks fly out of her mouth with each line and it leaves me wanting so, so much more. Why'd she have to go so early, man... An explosive 4/5.

Ended up having to be surprised by how good this album is. Have some fucking confidence when it comes to your album art, lads. A stamp on the side of a cardboard sleeve isn't gonna cut it, come on. I can feel the creativity and love you have here. A record with soulful woodwinds, buzzing organ and ties to old folk roots despite diving head-long into the then-future of prog deserves a much better visual presentation. I'd give it a half-star more if they didn't phone it in. 3.5/5.

I had a feeling he'd end up as my, so far, favorite solo Beatle. Maybe it's because I was caught in the Truck Sim headspace, but this album flowed nice and smooth and felt half as long as it actually is. Maybe George should have written more of the Beatles catalogue than what he ended up getting, but it seems Paul and John were fit to just sideline him regardless... Smells like freedom. 4/5.