1001 Albums Summary

He is undoubtedly clever, well-read, and thoughtful. But to my ears he is a musical fraud. His harmonic structures are banal; 12-bar blues or Pete Seeger I-IV-V structures ad nauseam. At most only slight variations within a song between verse - chorus. No bridges to be found. Over the course of 15 verses every song becomes torturous. He occasionally developed the bones of a great melody, only to abandon it to his trademark pitch bends at the end of every phrase. It's as if he never had interest in developing the discipline required to complete and perfect a melody. To my ear he sounds almost disdainful of musicality. For example, the out of tune guitar on Queen Jane - there are so many ways to introduce dissonance (maj/min, dim, half dim chords, min 7, tri-tone, b9, etc.) And Willie Nelson demonstrated that you can bring them into folk-style music. But understanding of the use of those requires dedication, discipline and care. Far simpler just to detune a fifth of the band and call it art. Lyrically, while he is unquestionably gifted, I find he is more committed to demonstrating his mental prowess and breadth of education than in communicating ideas and emotions. And again, the length of the songs. He doesn't use that length to create narrative. He uses it to build layer upon layer of depth to a core idea. It's like a 15 layer butter cream cake. Two/three layers is plenty in the hands of a disciplined and more considerate master.

Amazing reminder of how good music made by a group of people accustomed to playing live together can sound. Great songs. Top-notch musicality. And amazing engineering / production.

I’ve been listening to this for 40 years and still find it riveting from start to finish. RIP Freddie.

So good in every way. Elton John became such a caricature as a performer in the late 70s - when I started really listening to music - that it took a while for me to come around to the fact that he is a brilliant musician and singer. The band is perfect. The story of the recording process is mind-blowing. There are moments on Side 3 when I start to wonder if it needs to be a double album; and then side 4 convinces me.

I want to love the Doors. I have wanted to love them for 40 years. Ray Manzarek and Robbie Krueger blend their sounds together beautifully and create a sound unique to that pairing. Jim Morrison is clearly capable of brilliance. And without a doubt he has one of THE great voices for rock and roll. I also applaud the effort to merge seemingly disparate influences into a sound wholly their own. But, for me, it just too often becomes silly. Hallucinogens can be great catalysts to the imagination, but art requires a lot of sober editing; tearing down and rebuilding. To my ears, it sounds like Jim Morrison NEVER edited. We're left with some really interesting craft work. Finally, while their brand of electric blues can be engaging, one listen to Howlin' Wolf or J.B. Hutto & the Hawks pretty quickly reveals that what these beach boys produce is a pale and too-often silly imitation.

There is something almost mystical about the ability of northern Atlantic folk singers of the sixties to distract audiences so completely with pretentious poetry that no one seemed to notice how utterly uninteresting the music was. It is no small feat to make an entire album of music devoid of energy and excitement. Is unadulterated earnestness enough to make music interesting? No. It is not.

Neil Young has written some really gorgeous songs. I didn't find any of those here. His expressions of grief may be enough to trigger sympathy in those who believe they know and love the man through his music to love the album. But objectively, I just don't find much here other than spontaneous lyrics about his pain. And lyrics are just poetry. A music album must be good musically; If not, I'd rather the read the poetry from a book. As an aside, I find the Woodstock sound interesting, but it occupies a tragically outsized place of honor in the rock and roll zeitgeist. Ultimately, though, it's that voice. I really, really, really, really, really dislike Bob Dylan's voice. Neil's is worse. It creates an angsty-pain that spreads from my throat to my ears and into my head. Interesting song writing isn't worth the literal headache I end up with.

In the wrong hands the 12-bar blues quickly becomes tedious. And the vast majority of those who play it have the wrong hands. I've always found that B.B., while technically incredible, plays a watered-down version of John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, J.B. Hutto...As this album opened, the Las Vegas-review treatment was confirming my biases. But from How Blue Can You Get? forward, it builds and builds with one amazing performance after another. The band is crackin'. The sound is exceptional. B.B. got me.

Accusing Elvis of appropriation is like accusing Rick of permitting gambling in Casablanca. It's why people love him. The foundation of the artistic process is, literally, appropriation. Mozart appropriated Bach's baroque into Italianette style. Brilliant. Duke and Satchmo appropriated the blues scale and western theory to invent an entirely novel harmonic structure. Brilliant. Bluegrass appropriated the African banjo. Blues appropriated the Spanish guitar and then the Hawaiian slide method of playing it. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. But great artists don't just copy; they blend their inspirations and make something brand new; and they do it so masterfully that it seems obvious. That's what Elvis and Sam did, and did brilliantly, during this period. To my ears, the pure R&B covers (I Got a Woman, Tutti Fruity) are flat and, especially when compared with the originals, simply uninteresting. The magic of this period of Elvis' career is in the rock-a-billy/ country western numbers (Blue Suede Shoes, I'm Counting on You, Trying to Get to You, Blue Moon). IMHO the Sun Sessions collection of recordings is finer than this one because it is even more firmly rooted in country western music. Elvis sang these songs styled with R&B and a hint of Ray's electrified gospel and made something that no one had heard and that people all over the world are still listening to and imitating. And Elvis sang it with such confidence that it instantly sounded wholly realized and...obvious. Luminaries as far afield as the Rolling Stones and Waylon Jennings were appropriating this sound at their artistic high point. Zach Bryan is proving there's still ore in the vein left to mine. Country music isn't what it is today without this music. By the time Elvis came back from the Army, either he or his handlers decided pop rock was the way to go. He still dabbled in country western to great results, but it was never the focus of his career. Maybe this drift is the reason he became such a caricature. So I don't cast aspersions for his appropriation. But Q, who is American musical royalty to my mind, has said that Elvis, the man, was a racist. That's a lot harder to forgive. Sinatra, for one, motivated by his love of black music, took career risks to elevate his under-appreciated peers. That Elvis, apparently, was actively hostile to those on whose shoulders he stood is something we should all consider. It's why I can't give him five stars. But, for me, cancelling him and ignoring what he left us is pointless asceticism.

That voice is amazing. He could growl like Otis and purr like Nat. The engineering on the album is gorgeous. But for an album to be great it needs to be a collection of pieces that together reflect a single point of view. Great performers and great albums merge influences into A sound. Miles said it takes a long time to figure out what you sound like. There's some combination of Solomon, here, not yet knowing what he sounds like and Jerry Wexler not helping him find it or not trusting him enough to feature it. (It kind of reminds me of Columbia's inability to take advantage of Aretha's talent at around the same time.) This album goes from imitations of Staxx songs, to imitations of Beatles songs and ends up with an imitation of a Dean Martin song. And none of those songs really left out. None burrowed into my subconscious. So what's left are beautiful recordings of great performances, but with no coherence to the album and not much to "remember" about Solomon Burke except that he can flat-out sing.

The beginning of the high point of one of the iconic bands of the 20th century. Beggars Banquet, Let it Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exhile on Main Street are musical nirvana.

In the early 90s I had a techno CD named The Difference Between Noise and Music. I love the question. Here, we have no human beings playing instruments. No singing. No melodies. No harmonic structure. It is, in fact, all but atonal. We have rhythm and we have poetry. Everything else that defines music is, in reality, missing. And yet it somehow grips people emotionally in the same way that music does. This particular combination of rhythm and poetry didn't grip me when I was 18 and it doesn't now. Dre's beats are the only redeeming aspect of the album. But they're a bit one-note; like a robot army's drums of war. And the lyrics...you gotta give me more than threats of indiscriminate violence and gratuitous mysogeny. "So what about the bitch who got shot? Fuck her! You think I give a damn about a bitch? I ain't a sucker!" Not for me.

I really appreciate this band. The music is complex and interesting, and the band is so tight. I just fundamentally dislike the screaming and the rapping. It reminds me of Eddie Van Halen’s line, “why do we have to have lead singers? Beethoven didn’t need one:” But I even appreciate and respect Tom Morello’s work here. I just don’t really enjoy listening to it.

I listened to this one on HEAVY rotation when it was released. I think it holds up beautifully. I've always wondered if anything would have changed had there been the artistic/social/political space in Nirvana for Dave to share the responsibilities and burdens of success. To my ears, in theory, the mix of that Seattle soup that was Kurt's influences with Dave's D.C. hardcore inspirations could have left a legacy to compete with the Kings of the Golden Age. "For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'it might have been.'"

It’s like listening to the soundtrack of an Argentinian film noir without getting to watch the movie…But the soundtrack is great.

Interesting concept. For my ears it doesn't work. I can think of three Metallica albums that properly belong on this list. This ain't one. At first I thought it was because the mix was "upside down"; the strings are prominent over the guitars giving this musac-metallica feel. But when I suggested it, my wife said, "or it just doesn't work." I think she's right.

I like this album SOOOOO much better than Five Leaves.

Such amazing riffs. Phil Rudd is a master at being exactly the drummer necessary. The vocals are lengendary. But the lyrics...Oh dear God those lyrics. Listening to AC/DC makes me appreciate David Lee Rother. His lyrics were just as dopy, but he was always in on the joke. Bon Scott never gives me the same feeling.

How did I get this old without hearing Orange Juice?? It's such a fantastic and weird mashup of Roxy Music, General Public, the Go-Betweens, horns from Specials/Madness. Every element is familiar and I've never heard anything like it.

Dislike. Dylan. Immensely.

Has anyone else made a synth album that sounds so cinematic? He was always so good at melody and mood. The songs on this album are of a piece with those on all of the PG albums right back to the Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. What he nailed here was the production. This album is so lush and full. Particularly when you compare it to other synth-craft albums from the day. Listen to Winwood's Back in the High Life. That's how most synth albums sound. Then come back to this. It has aged remarkably well; a testament to the time he spent building the amazing sounds in the first place.

Historically important. Incredibly powerful. Very interesting. But sonically jarring - which was the point.

I had Funeral on heavy rotation when it came out. I was so excited when they released Neon Bible. But it never grabbed me. It felt like a classic sophomore effort - the same sound, but the songs just weren't nearly as crafted as those on the debut. I hadn't listened to it for 20 years. And my opinion holds. Intervention is a great pop song. The rest of it sounds like angsty jam sessions.

Sounds like the only thing that mattered was sounding good in a stadium - soaring, anthemic, monotonous structures, simple harmonies, slow builds. The songs are silly confections and instantly forgettable.

IIt used to be you could go to someone's place for the first time and go through their music collection - CDs or Records on shelves. There were some people who had a penchant for collecting the less interesting work of interesting bands. This collection is starting to feel that way. From Boy through Unforgettable Fire this band was producing some of the most urgent, intimate, moving, emotional music in the world. But then it appears that CEO Bono got a taste of the big time. Joshua Tree and especially this album always sounded to me like whoever was making decisions regarding the bands "direction" had decided that being the biggest selling band in the world was all that mattered. Reminds me of the Rolling Stones' albums from the 80s and 90s. The Edge's work is amazing - in everything. But the urgency and intimacy are gone; replaced by...the Manchester Sound?? U2 chasing the Manchester sound reminds me of Coke abandoning its original formula to chase the Pepsi flavor profile. And all in service of pumping out silly radio/stadium friendly anthems. Bores me; and to tears when I think of how Sunday Bloody Sunday makes me feel.

I actually own this CD from when it came out. And I forgot all about it. The sonic texture is amazing and completely novel and unique when it came out. But except for her voice and his weird whispering, it's all robotics. And none of the songs ever grabbed me. The only thing I recognized on resisting was the Public Enemy cover. And I never thought that worked very well.

This is becoming the 1001 albums to avoid until you die. Cyndi Lauper? C'mon man...

It's the production. The Dust Brothers did something here that will never be equalled - mostly because Judge Kevin Thomas Duffy of the Southern District of New York decided that, unlike compulsory licenses available in every other form of music cover, sampling from thence forth required permission of the original songwriter. R.I.P. an amazing form of artistic expression at the hands of a disinterested legal academic.

There are 1000 artists people should hear before they die. Two albums by Peter Gabriel?? So is a classic. PG 1-4 have sublime heights but a lot of filler.

Nice

Meh. Sebadoh and Pavement did it better.

white jazz. uggh.

Adele is amazing. But I always hear her like I hear Aretha's Columbia output - the talent is undeniable but the producers just don't know how to use it. 19 is a pretty decent album. This one starts out OK. But gets so boring so fast.

Super fun, if a bit amateurish

It isn't unlistenable from the very beginning. But it gets there pretty quickly.

So great. Pure rock and roll - no BS. Love it.

This is the first album on my desert island list. Absolute GOLD.

Hilarious. Though I get the sense I'm not laughing WITH them...Musically, the drummer can't quite hold the groove in double time. Though, to be fair, Art Blakey is about the only drummer I've heard who could hold a groove double time at these tempos. Good Lord.

How do you take what was in the air in 1971 and come up with this in two and half years? The creativity is mind-blowing. Someone said of the Velvet Underground - only about a thousand people bought their albums, but every one of them started a band. The impact of this band is at least as big. And on top of it all, 40 years later the album just makes me so happy. I think it's because this is such a pure demonstration of creative people being exactly who they want to be without even a moment's thought to commercialism or egotism.

The backing tracks are interesting. But quarter tone harmony gives me vertigo and this common mideastern vocal style sounds like someone complaining about something they ate while straining to push it out their arse.

Not my idea of a good time. It sounds contrived; like music by Record Industry Committee. I can hear the pitch to the A&R guys - it's Trent Reznor darkness delivered by Elastica but with some Manchester beats thrown in! The problem is that Elastica was great because they didn't sound contrived. Their riffs were certainly derivative. But the derivation sounds adoring rather than calculated, as here. Shirley Manson doesn't sing dark lyrics as much as she sings lyrics about darkness - making her sound like so many well-adjusted suburban teens who decided to dress Goth because they liked the look. And the rave beats reinforce the feeling that the producer was just chasing fads.

Amazing production. Really dumb songs. These songs are so dumb they could be SNL skit songs. But they'd be dumb SNL skits; like mid-90s SNL dumb. Of all the amazing disco and soul music from the 70s, the fact that this album makes this list makes me question my decision to participate in the first place. We are family may have been worthy of being a hit in '79. Now it's just a cliched wedding reception staple.

It sounds as if the band is even bored by these songs.

Interesting. Great recordings.

The Beatles put out at least three and maybe four legit five-star albums. This one is fun and cute.

Amazing musicianship. So avant guards it's entertaining; for a bit.

I have tried for decades to like this album. I respect Carole King enormously. I appreciate her songwriting a great deal. Her songs performed by Donny Hathaway or Aretha Franklin are as good as it gets. But there's something timid about this record that bores me through and through. Her thin nasal voice doesn't move me. The production almost matches. The backing track performances have that bored-studio-cats flatness. And just the endless parade of earnest introspection unbroken by mirth, imagery, or storytelling becomes tedious.

An interesting sound. But why does every cute pop song about unrequited love need a 13th and 14th movement? A little precious. A little over-wrought. Tediously self-indulgent.

Like Joe Strummer, McClaren does a brilliant job of blending all of the amazing music floating around London at the time. But the best parts, by far, are entirely the work of the South African musicians he neither credited nor compensated until they successfully sued him (with Paul Simon's help). So we're back to the the 21st Century moral dilemma - what do you do with really interesting art produced by Tossers?

Discoveries like this make slogging through the scores of mediocre albums on this list worth it.

I listened to this album while cleaning up the kitchen after a meal I didn't enjoy. This music was the least fulfilling part of my evening.

Fascinating. Gorgeous production. Really interesting tracks. Not sure it's one I'll ever be able to listen to obsessively. But I'm going to keep trying.

I love this album. Unique sound. Great songs. And so timeless. Last night while listening I asked my daughter, who is an amateur musician like the rest of us, to guess when the album came out. "2000s? 1980s? Is it new? Not the 90s." Like Roxy Music, the NY Dolls, and Velvet Underground, it's such a unique sound that it would have worked (and wouldn't have been popular) at any time in the last 60 years.

Found this album when I was 18. It changed my life.

Sounds like Otis, Carla or Sam and Dave without the vocals. Because, of course, it is! Even though its Stax without the best parts, its still pretty great. Time to watch the Blies Brothers.

Refugee was the first video I ever saw on MTV. Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers were the first band I ever saw live (1982). This album, for the most part, sounds exactly like what it is - a bunch of teenagers trying to sound like their heroes. But then Breakdown. A preview of that iconic, instantly identifiable Heartbreaker's sound. And American Girl. Holy Macaroni.

The sound must have been a sledgehammer to the speakers in 1965. Sixty years on, and accustomed to distortion and frenetic drumming, most of it sounds like what it was, awkward covers of American soul and blues. The titular song is amazing as is the Kids are Alright. Everything else is just filler. Paul, John, and Brian hadn't yet turned the rock and roll world onto the pursuit of making great albums.

At its best (Slightly All the Time) this is a mediocre contribution to the jazz fusion world of Miles, Herbie Hancock, Donald Bird, Chick Core, et al. At its worst (FaceLift) it comes across as slightly organized noise.

It is just SO self-indulgent. Fairly accomplished musicianship. So tell me how people who understand the rewards of a disciplined development of craft allow themselves to be so dismissive of the craft of songwriting? The same is true of vocals. For some reason, beginning in the 60s, accomplished musicians believed singing involved no skillset that had to be honed and developed. Just open your mouth and push out some air to words and an approximation of melody. Somehow it's the musical equivalent of communes. Everyone just trying to be free and live their fullest lives by getting out from under the constraints of convention. I'm all for pushing boundaries. Yes did it quite well. King Crimson does not impress me.

One of my favorite lines about musicianship is attributed to Miles: "It takes a long time to figure out what you sound like." I think Jeff didn't get that time. His voice is incredible. But the songwriting/production here sounds like a sonic museum of the mid-90s. So many of the songs chase the "sound" of one or another of the popular bands of the time. There are some beautiful moments. But Jeff needed 3 or 4 more albums and a lot of touring to figure out what HE sounded like.

To me Phil Spector's wall of sound always sounds a little shrill. So much great Christmas music. This is pretty average.

I love it. For 40 years I thought of Roxy Music as the Adult Oriented sounds of Avalon. And I loved it. About 20 years ago I listened to Country Life and thought, OK, they were a punk band that went AOR. That's typical. But hearing this album, I'm in awe of the breadth of their musical interests. It's as if they started their careers as kids who loved the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack SO MUCH they thought, "that's the kind of music I want to make." And they were good enough musicians already to do it.

I can't listen to this. The production is beautiful. OK I've said something nice. There is this trend - across genres - that started in the late 90s - wherein certain artists sound like Music By Potheads on Anti-Depressants for Potheads on Anti-Depressants. It creates recordings that are SO boring. This recording is an archetype. And this guy's voice. His cutesy-bear sounds to me like someone too lazy or cowardly to try to learn to sing. It stimulates the same rage I used to get listening to Barney sing I Love You, You Love Me on his insufferable cartoon.

I think this album and Tim are the among the very purest rock and roll ever made. No pretense lyrically, musically, or sonically. Just urgent honesty.

To my ears, it's just shrill. Is she passionate? Sure. But it's no more musical, to my ears, than Screamo. I'm sure it was shocking when it came out. And that was 1/2 of the point. But looking back, they spent far too little attention on the other half.

Greatest performing band in rock and roll history - by far. Greatest because their technical abilities were considerable, but didn't overshadow the music that they made together; because they listened to one another and played like a band made up of people who's only goal was to sound great together. You can pick apart their individual talents all you like and find individuals better at the component instruments. But show me any four people in the world of rock and roll who could create a more mind-blowing sonic experience together. That said, they were just beginning to realize their own sound with this album. It's like the cocoon is starting to split open but the butterfly is only starting to emerge. True brilliance was still two albums away.

I love this album. And it's a great example of why I put up listening to stuff I don't like on this project. I've spent the last 50 years listening to Smoke on the Water. But for some reason, I had never listened to the album. Holy Macaroni. I'm so glad I have.

OMG that voice. Karen and Dianna Ross were what I, as a kid, imagined that angels sounded like. I like that Richard still wasn't convinced that Karen was THAT much better at singing. (Imagine if Finneas INSISTED that Billie sing backup on two or three songs per album?) Still, the music is SO sickening sweet. You start to become convinced you can listen to it and then Help! (Who in God's name listened to Karen singing Richard's songs and thought, "you know, I'm not convinced these two can carry an album's worth of material.)

The only interesting thing about this album is the riddle it invokes. As painful as it is to listen to Bob Dylan, do I dislike an imitator of his more for the lack of originality, or less for the efforts at actually singing? Truthfully, Gene Clark sounds, by turns, like he's imitating, on some songs, Dylan and, on others, Glenn Campbell. He touches neither's greatness.

Great example of glossy punk. This band is so good. They could pull it off perfectly live as well; even those vocals - the power and range. Really impressive. But this album gets a little one note by about half-way through.

I shudder to think that bands, as we knew them are dead. People who grew up together or met when they were still young and poor and each had a talent and they just threw themselves into a community of effort at becoming something. Boy did these three become something. I LOVE this album.

With the opening track I thought, "OK, this could be interesting." And then Jupiter and Teardrop...I have a Playlist called Inadvertent Parody. Mr. Roboto is the first track. J&T is the latest addition. The engineering on the album is fantastic; especially the guitar and drum sounds. There are some interesting ideas and soaring moments. But the "songs" seem like they were intended merely as excuses to play music and impress people. It would be forgettable. But at Soft Wolf Tread I started imagining it was a Fred Armisen project with Bill Hader doing the singing. It is SO believable and becomes SO funny, I probably will listen again with that thought in mind to cheer myself up after reading the news.

It's hard to explain how mind blowing this album was when it came out. Rick Rubin deserves his rep - if for nothing else - for recognizing the possibilities from making a rap album with a punk band and using a heavy dose of Zeppelin samples. Is it an album of music worth listening to forty years on? It limps along in several spots. Super clever - to be sure - but now standing in the immense shadow of Paul's Boutique it feels flat. Then Girls - as good a novelty song as any, and Fight for Your Right which, in spite of its teenaged-meathead theme, just f@#in rocks. So I'd say, in retrospect, this is a solid debut album from a truly unique act.

The studio stuff here is gorgeous. I can't stand Cheap Thrills. But most of this album offers a tremendous dose of precisely what the Big Brother album lacks - musicality. I'm still not a huge fan of Janis' screeching. But here it is used as a part of her range, rather than the point of directing a microphone in her direction. The production (again on the studio tracks) is golden. I also love this particular moment of music where gospel, blues, country, and the transition of Stax-style Soul into Funk were thrown together seemingly indiscriminately. I always think of Leon Russell's bands as the best versions of this style. But the Full Tilt Boogie Band's performances on Pearl stand up to the best of those bands'. The live tracks are a let down.

I have always LOVED Siamese Dream. So I bought Mellon Collie the week it was released; but I've never liked it. There is WAY too much mediocrity here to truly appreciate the two or three amazing moments. And those amazing moments were played SO much on the radio in 1995, that listening to the album was just about exploring the mediocrity. It also comes across as a bit artsy (c'mon...Mellon Collie?) - too much of it sounds affected, gimmicky and/or half-baked. Corgan's clearly trying to expand his sound; which is laudable. But the less grungy the backing tracks get, the more they're ruined by their exposure of his voice - revealing his jarring and incongruously-timed transitions between whisper, vocalfry, failed attempts at real singing, and mediocre James Hetfield impressions. Ultimately, I'm frustrated by all of it. If he'd focused on making the best one-third of the songs here great (instead of making the Wall for Gen X - give me a break) he could have made a great album. Bullet With the Butterfly Wings is so great, though, that it earns the album two stars all on its own.

I feel like robots are trying to hypnotize me. Nice atmospherics...But do computer generated tones qualify music? Regardless, you have to be exceedingly generous to call these songs. Sophomoric tonal riffing in place of melodic structure; and lyrics that come across like High School poetry.

The concept is brilliant. Take the icons from hill country (bluegrass) of the 40s and 50s and put them in a 70s era recording studio with its capacity for making pristine and lush reproductions. The inclusion of the inter-track cross talk is brilliant. And I love it every time I start it. But bluegrass is like the 12 bar blues for me. The monotony starts to physically exhaust me about four / five songs in. I end up having the same experience listening to this album as I do in Renaissance art museums. I go from super excited to exhausted after about 1/3 to 1/2 of the way through. (Are ALL of the paintings of Jesus and the saints?)

Baroque was already considered old-fashioned when Bach wrote the greatest pieces of the genre. With this album, the doves did the same with the Manchester sound. It flags a bit towards the end. But still a great album.

This album is the best example of "The Nashville Sound" I've ever heard. The recordings are SO lush and the reverb is so beautiful. There isn't anything out of place in the mix. The musicianship is perfect. But the flip side of it is here too - The heavy-handed production in pursuit of that soft, warm, perfection, tended to elicit flat performances. Ray Price's early honky tonk is exciting and super-interesting. Ray Price here sounds beautiful, but bored. But damn, it sounds good.

I think of the Strokes as the last in a long line of bands to have "saved Rock and Roll"; the last guitar-based band to have enormous success by reimagining the sound of two guitars, a bass, drums and vocals, while keeping the raw energy of youth as the guiding principal. I dislike the megaphone effects on the vocals and I still love this album.

I'll be the first to admit my own ignorance. But all I hear is robots and vulgarity.

Every song (except Lovesong) makes me want to turn it off and listen to one of the earlier Cure albums. I love the Cure. But this album has always sounded like a collection of songs that weren't quite good enough to make the cut for Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, so Robert tried to overcompensate by making the production cleaner and richer. It does sound beautiful. And Lovesong is gorgeous. And that's about it for me.

Interesting

In spite of the fact that DeadHeads love his music, the music is actually really good. But for the fact that they love him, I'd be tempted to think he was a brilliant songsmith.

The high points on this album are some of the best music ever made. But the low points get so bad as to be almost unlistenable.

As good as 20th century music ever got.

Interesting because of what we all now know was coming; but on its own merits its a group of really exceptional musicians feeling each other out over blues standards (uncredited though they be).

Mad respect for the audacity ("it's a fucking opera!") Well recorded. But it's too long and indulgent for my taste. Give me the Who's Next every time.

Cringe inducing pretension. Clearly introduced to blues and funk legends through hip hop samples, these guys decided to have a go. I like the sound the band aspires to; they just need about 5 more years of constant gigging to be able to pull it off. The drummer is so distracted by ornamentation that he can’t quite hold the pocket. The guitarist has zero melodic sense so his leads consistently CLUNK; and while he’s clearly spent a ton of time learning cool chords, he can’t play them in real time so his rhythms feel forced. (And of course in funk, feel is EVERYTHING.) But while the band misses, at least I get what they’re shooting for. G. Love is just an embarrassment in everything he does. His contribution constantly displays an idiocy combined with arrogance. If I were on a bus and overheard him having a conversation, I’d probably get off and wait the 15 minutes for the next one rather than have to listen to any more of his nonsense. And what is that weird vocal affectation? It makes him sound like he’s developmentally disabled. Finally, in Blues Man, “G” celebrates a number of blues, soul, and funk legends. I’m 550 albums in and, while I’ve heard literally scores of albums by mediocre British kids imitating these legends (mostly from the 60s but let’s throw this album in with the detritus), I’ve heard albums from exactly three of those who actually deserve not to be forgotten. Put a different way, in what music-loving universe should people hear G. Love & Special Sauce but not Blind Lemon Jefferson, Albert Collins, Bukka White, James Brown, Chaka Khan, Sonny Boy Williams, Leadbelly, Robert Johnson, Junior Wells, J. B. Hutto, Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, etc. etc??

Invent a guitar-playing style. Check. Immediately take the music world by storm. Check. Release a debut album with no filler. Check. Create something that remains in the Canon almost 60 years later. Check. Try to listen like you’ve never heard these songs before. Forget all of your associations and memories and just hear the music. It is almost literally stunning.

Deep Purple makes me smile. I can’t quite figure out if this is absurdly fantastic or fantastically absurd. My wife hates it for reasons that I COMPLETELY understand. And yet, listening to it just makes me so…happy. There's joy - that definitely swings into laughter at times - that I get from the sheer audacity of it. So many bands dedicated to self-indulgent displays of technical mastery leave me feeling empty and kind of disgusted. But for whatever reason Deep Purple makes me smile.

To me, the real magic of Elvis was is in the rock-a-billy/ country western songs he recorded with Sam Phillips. Elvis sang those songs like he was born to do nothing else. Styled with R&B and a hint of Ray's electrified gospel, he and Sam made something that no one had heard and that people all over the world are still listening to and imitating. And Elvis sang it with such confidence that it instantly sounded wholly realized and...obvious. He joins the Army and upon returning they decide that he should make, basically, a doo top record ?? The engineering is BRILLIANT. It is one of the most beautiful sounding records ever. Fever is a fantastic track for auditioning hi-fi gear. But the magic of Elvis barely appears (Dirty, Dirty Feeling and Such a Night) and even then feels constrained and watered down. The remainder of the album sounds even more constrained as if he's imitating the crooners. And while it's a decent imitation, it isn't magical the way his Sun sessions were.

W T F. I have a love for the absurd. So I love it. It's like Frank Zappa lyrics set to Tom Jones songs, arranged and played by the 1968 CBS Television Orchestra.

1977-78 is my favorite period of music. Mostly because of the incredible diversity of really interesting and unique artists recording at the time - funk, soul, country, L.A.'s country-rock, pop, hard rock (classic and Van Halen's new take), soft rock (yacht and the decedents of Pet Sounds), prog rock, german synth-rock, punk, jazz was still kicking, and I'm sure I've missed a bunch. There was so much amazing and interesting music coming out that some real gems are all but lost to history. Never Mind the Sex Pistols. Here's the Saints!

Thank God for Aretha Franklin. And thank God for Jerry Wexler who figured out how to use that mind-blowing talent that had overwhelmed the brain trust at Columbia, and who then convinced Aretha to give him and Atlantic a shot. You can hear them all pushing the boundaries in various directions; sometimes leaning back towards her Columbia sound and sometimes going for a straight Stax sound. They'd perfect the sound with the masterpieces of the next year. But this album is really special. Holy Macaroni.

This starts off as a Prog-Rock album. Sure, it's dressed up in a 90's Indie Rock sonic palette. But as with all Prog-Rock, the music seems built up from clever/ interesting technical or harmonic concepts into "songs"; and that leaves the overall experiences unmoving. That starts to shift at Let Down and Karma Police which actually feel like songs that were crafted and then recorded, rather than the other way around. No suprises also feels like a song. But none of them are good enough for me to want to listen to the album.

Her voice is maple syrup. Unfortunately, for most of the album, Jerry Wexler surrounds her in cotton candy orchestration. But Son of a Preacher Man. That track is so good you could put the 45 on this list and I'd give it 5 stars. And the rest of the album is pleasant. So it's a good one to pull out and put on the platter from time to time.

His voice is shot, and it sounds exactly like what it is - a cynical effort to make him less un-hip at the dawning of the age of Aquarius. Booker T & the MGs made everybody sound cool. But in 2024, if I want to Stax myself, I'll opt for Otis Redding, Rufus Thomas, or Sam & Dave every time. Listen to Ray's I'm Movin' On and then come back and listen to this. limp. But dammit, Wearing' That Loved on Look, Suspicious Minds, and Kentucky Rain are some of my favorite tracks ever.

It sounds like a version of Help! from an alternate universe in which John has no edge and he and Paul have mysteriously lost their talent for writing melodic hooks. It's well-engineered though.

The AI Emperor being familiar with Apocalypse Now, when the robot armies in their fleet of drones finally come to burn our houses and enslave our children, this is what they will be playing.

So good.

Proving that I'm no metal-head, my first thought was that Metallica is one of those rare bands that became better when they sold out. The engineering and production on this album are gorgeous. The guitars are as full and rich as anything since Eddie’s Brown Sound and it finally sounds like Lars is playing drums instead of slapping wet cardboard with wooden spoons. By Holier Than Thou I started thinking that, like REM, Metalica’s music is maybe more enjoyable when you can’t understand the lyrics. But that's not entirely correct either. Some of the lyrics are pretty damned good. It’s still a Metalllica album - which means it gets pretty monotonous pretty quickly. But it sounds amazing and the riffs are outta this world. The riff of Enter Sandman is worth 3 stars all on its own.

I appreciate music for melody, harmonic progression, emotional expression, rhythm, and lyrics - pretty much in that order. This has zero melody and zero harmonic progression. In terms of emotional expression, the backing tracks are (literally) robotic and the sample collage lacks integrity. Vocally it comes across like a watered down Chuck D. And lyrically, it's like going back and reading 30 year old political Op-Eds. They may touch on themes that remain salient. But they were written very much as a comment on the moment.

There are more than 10 Miles Davis records that contain some of the most beautiful music ever made. This is not one of them. These free-form, push-the-envelope-at-all-costs, modal jam sessions have aged about as well as Grateful Dead live tapes. The idea that someone who doesn't know Miles would leave their participation in this project believing that THIS is what his music sounds like is almost tragic. (In no particular order: The Birth of Cool, The New Miles Davis Quintet, Cookin', Relaxin', Workin', Steamin', Round About Midnight, Some Day My Prince Will Come, Kind of Blue, Somethin' Else, Milestones, E.S.P.)

I said in a review of Neil Young's Tonight's the Night that the Woodstock sound occupies a tragically outsized place of honor in the rock and roll zeitgeist. This album may be 50% of the reason why. Which is a reminder that it's always the music that matters, not the particular genre/sound. This album is amazing start (almost) to finish. Gorgeous melodies, performances, lyrically inspired.

I love this album. Consistently great songs. The sound represents its moment perfectly without sounding quaint or passe all these years later.

Almost every innovative band (across every genre) that has found success has followed a common career arc. One, maybe two, ultra-raw albums; one to three albums that are technically imperfect, often quirky, and filled with brilliant songs; and then one to a series of well-performed and well-produced albums that aren't nearly as interesting. I think it's because of boredom and (ambitious) desperation. Artists that want to be unique are desperate to create great works. Starting out, nothing matters but learning to play better, writing better songs, and finding and perfecting that unique sound. And when they first hit the road they have SOOOOOO much down time; so much boredom - hour upon hour in vans and crappy hotels and backstage with nothing to do but joke around, practice, and write. I think the convergence of this boredom and desperation are the periods of intense creativity. Because the artist(s) is/are still searching for that perfect sound, all of their influences are freely thrown into the cauldron and stirred around. No one outside of the band is depending on the next album selling and so there is freedom to explore and take risks. In fact, the five to ten fans a week who come to the shows are the type of people who LOVE the creativity and quirkiness. And those few encounters mean SO much to the artist(s) that it reinforces the desperation and drive to make something brilliant. The desperation is never happy with the results and it fills all of that time with editing, writing, editing, writing, editing. And then they start to perfect and hone in on their "sound." They're mastering the instruments and the song-writing process from all of the practice. The writing and recording become just a bit easier. And then success starts to come. But it doesn't make life easier - it makes it a whole lot more complex. It's no longer a band in a van; it's an organization and a brand. Suddenly there are 1,000 decisions to be made every day about the business of the organization: the touring logistics, political/social/HR shit (among the band members, the roadies, the assistants...), the record label's demands, the publicists, the image, which festivals to play in 18 months...People the artist cares deeply about start to rely on the money coming in for their livelihoods. The band, the manager, the publicist, the roadies start to collect expensive addictions, car payments, significant others, kids, mortgages, etc. And this pressure tends to fall on the one or two people who are doing the writing because it's "their band." All of that time that used to go to songwriting and editing gets eaten up by more "urgent" matters relating to the health and sustainability of the org and the brand. But it's OK, because the artist(s) is/are more practiced at the songwriting and so it comes quicker and easier. We need three more songs? No problem, I'll do it on Tuesday. But the product doesn't lie. All of that desperate creativity, the social "space" for risk-taking, and the time spent editing made great songs. Now the "sound" is polished and the techniques are mastered and the albums sell because they sound great and the concerts are sold out because the brand is known. But the songs don't quite sparkle anymore. And the org and the brand are doing great so no one in the inner orbit notices or cares in the rush of the high-life. I love Sister and Daydream Nation as much as I love any albums by any band. The songs are absolutely golden and send me into a joyous delirium. This album sounds great. It reproduces a band that's clearly mastered a really unique and interesting sound. But the songs just don't sparkle and explode and stick in my head the way those on Sister and Daydream Nation do.

This is a really special vintage by an all but forgotten small producer. I get undertones of Television and Meat Puppets with gorgeous notes of Steven Stills, the Feelies and maybe just a pinch of Primus! This would pair really well with mid-length mindless activities like airplane travel and interior re-painting!

Monstrously important album from an historical perspective. Alt Country/Americana wouldn't exist - at least in the way we know it - without this effort. The missing string on the cover photo is a perfect reflection of what's inside. Sounds like he's not sure what he's doing or why, but he has to do it so here goes! His later stuff has aged better. But his commitment to making this music at this moment has given us so much that it's hard not to love it anyway.

For me Magic Potion and Attack and Release are brilliant. Thickfreakness, Rubber Factory, and Chulahoma are super-interesting. Brothers sounds great - but none of the songs grab me. It's such a perfect example of something I wrote for Sonic Youth's Dirty that I'll add... Almost every innovative band (across every genre) that has found success has followed a common career arc. One, maybe two, ultra-raw albums; one to three albums that are technically imperfect, often quirky, and filled with brilliant songs; and then one to a series of well-performed and well-produced albums that aren't nearly as interesting. I think it's because of boredom and (ambitious) desperation. Artists that want to be unique are desperate to create great works. Starting out, nothing matters but learning to play better, writing better songs, and finding and perfecting that unique sound. And when they first hit the road they have SOOOOOO much down time; so much boredom - hour upon hour in vans and crappy hotels and backstage with nothing to do but joke around, practice, and write. I think the convergence of this boredom and desperation are the periods of intense creativity. Because the artist(s) is/are still searching for that perfect sound, all of their influences are freely thrown into the cauldron and stirred around. No one outside of the band is depending on the next album selling and so there is freedom to explore and take risks. In fact, the five to ten fans a week who come to the shows are the type of people who LOVE the creativity and quirkiness. And those few encounters mean SO much to the artist(s) that it reinforces the desperation and drive to make something brilliant. The desperation is never happy with the results and it fills all of that time with editing, writing, editing, writing, editing. And then they start to perfect and hone in on their "sound." They're mastering the instruments and the song-writing process from all of the practice. The writing and recording become just a bit easier. And then success starts to come. But it doesn't make life easier - it makes it a whole lot more complex. It's no longer a band in a van; it's an organization and a brand. Suddenly there are 1,000 decisions to be made every day about the business of the organization: the touring logistics, political/social/HR shit (among the band members, the roadies, the assistants...), the record label's demands, the publicists, the image, which festivals to play in 18 months...People the artist cares deeply about start to rely on the money coming in for their livelihoods. The band, the manager, the publicist, the roadies start to collect expensive addictions, car payments, significant others, kids, mortgages, etc. And this pressure tends to fall on the one or two people who are doing the writing because it's "their band." All of that time that used to go to songwriting and editing gets eaten up by more "urgent" matters relating to the health and sustainability of the org and the brand. But it's OK, because the artist(s) is/are more practiced at the songwriting and so it comes quicker and easier. We need three more songs? No problem, I'll do it on Tuesday. But the product doesn't lie. All of that desperate creativity, the social "space" for risk-taking, and the time spent editing made great songs. Now the "sound" is polished and the techniques are mastered and the albums sell because they sound great and the concerts are sold out because the brand is known. But the songs don't quite sparkle anymore. And the org and the brand are doing great so no one in the inner orbit notices or cares in the rush of the high-life.

With a punk sensibility she made really interesting rock and roll. Solid.

I love Supertramp's ability to be theatrical and to flirt with Prog-Rock overindulgence, but never lose focus on the songs. The engineering and production are amazing. The songs here aren't quite as strong as those on Breakfast in America. But the arrangements are more interesting and Siebenberg is still hitting the drums instead of tapping out percussive licks as starts to do later on. It's amazing what a huge difference a drummer's performance makes to a recording.

Such a great album. While their influences are evident, they still managed to create a unique sound. But what sets it on a pedestal is the quality of the songwriting. Billy Joe rivals Joey Ramone and Mick Jones in the ability to make great pop melodies feel right at home in a legit punk sound. And it isn't just a few great songs; it's damned-near wall to wall.

Such a beautiful, unique, quirky sound. And it seems to have come out of the gate fully formed; perfected. These guys made several more great albums and about 8 years later they absolutely owned the summer of 1986. But for me this remains their best album. Two exceptional songwriters that seemed to get the best out of each other. The sequence of Best Friend's Girl ( Rick) and Just What I Needed (Ben) is the Cars in microcosm. Each belongs among the best tracks in pop/rock history. And Greg Hawkes doesn't get nearly enough attention. At this point, synthesizers weren't keyboards with scores of pre-programmed sounds. They were just wave form generators with scores of filters. To play one, you had to be both a piano player and an electrical engineer. You had to build each sound each time you played it. Greg did that masterfully, developing beautiful sounds that blended perfectly into the mix. But he also was always complimentary. The synths here don't ever get in the way, they round out that beautiful, quirky sound.

Whoever compiled this list L-O-V-E-S Metallica. I'm at about 110 albums and this is the third from these guys. Really? How many amazing bands are we ignoring to listen to THREE Metallica albums?? I bought this album when it came out. I listen to it every 10 years or so. It's interesting. The athleticism is astonishing. The songs are fine-to-good. The engineering and mixing are total garbage. (Lars' bass drums sound like wet cardboard being slapped by a wooden spoon.) If I want a dose of these guys I'm reaching for the album Metallica; same sound, better songs, engineering and mixing are superb. And if I want to remember how groundbreaking they were I'll reach for Kill 'Em All. This was an important stepping stone; the album when they really figured out what they wanted to sound like. And I'm sure die-hard fans will debate whether it's their best. But for the rest of us? Meh.

The engineering and mixing are gorgeous. The musicianship is top-rate. Marley had such a talent for melody. Almost every song has at least one ear-worm and several have a couple. Truly incredible melody-maker. But his lyrics! They sound tossed off the top of his incredibly pot-addled head. They are consistently SO poorly thought out; it sounds like he has feelings on religious/political/intimate subjects and was so celebrated at this point that he began believing he could just stand in front of a hot mic and riff and the truth would emerge. It's a mess, for the most part. The love songs on side two are somehow less cringe inducing - maybe because we expect people to sound adolescent when singing about love. All that said, Three Little Birds and One Love are two of the greatest tracks of all time.

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no Bruce Springsteen's brilliance was his desperate intensity combined with story telling that was at once epic and intimate. Born to Run; The Wild, The Innocent, and The E Street Shuffle; and Darkness on the Edge of Town are three of the most brilliant albums ever. Even Born in the U.S.A. had IT, fer chrisake. And I'll hold Nebraska up to any folk / americana album ever made. The Rising??@!?!!?? The engineering is perfect. That's literally all the good I can say about it.

I don't like the overall sound of most of these songs - sounds like the tracks are (purposefully) over compressed to the point of clipping. And the nasally pinched vocals aren't anything to crow about. And yet, I love this album. The songs are so so so good. Great melodic hooks behind every corner. The arrangements / instrumentations are really interesting and diverse. The album is anything but monotonous. Coming back to the sound - I'm wondering if they employed that particular effect in order to differentiate themselves from the hordes. I wish I could say with confidence that the great songs and production were enough to do that. But there are a lot of great albums that go completely unnoticed. So maybe it worked. That said, how interesting would it be to hear a "remix" without that over compression?

I have a strong sentimental attachment to this album and so can't be objective. I owned this cassette the year I got my driver's license. Back then cassettes were EXPENSIVE. So when you had one you listened to it; a lot. After 30 years I can sing most of these songs in my sleep. It sounds great to me after all of these years. But there's no way that this opinion is unsentimental. It's interesting to think of the band at this moment. With the incredible chaos of the Joy Division years fading into memory and set to take over the world with their next album.

There's nothing about this that I enjoy.

I love the STAX / VOLT sound. Sam Cooke is an undeniable talent. I would love to have seen him live in his prime. But this isn't a great music album. The songs (with the exception of Bring it On Home to Me) are monotonous. His improvisations, comments, and ESPECIALLY his weird farts of laughter diminish the performances, and above all - this album demonstrates how GREAT Booker T & the MGs / the STAX house band was.

This is NOT one of the 1001 albums I needed to hear. Sounds like 30 year old teen pop.

This album reminds me of being 15. Not because I listened to it then, although I am that old. But because I was in a band, and each of us had been playing for a year or so and we kind of knew chords and how music fit together, but for the most part, we just wanted to make interesting noise that didn't sound like anyone else, and we were just old enough to start to understand that life is hard no matter who you are, and no matter what you do it never actually makes any sense, and - most importantly - we were starting to have those moments when the five of us who almost but didn't quite know how to make our instrument do exactly what we wanted, but we did know how to make it kind of do what we wanted and could start to listen and react to each other. There's so much beauty and excitement and even transcendence in that moment. And this album captures it like few others. Add to that the knowledge we all now have that we're listening to this larva explore its musical world, but as soon as it becomes a pupa and is struggling to wrest itself from its youth and fly, a huge beast comes along and kills it.

Uggh. Another white band from the late 60s playing twelve bar blues through overdriven amps. The only thing I gain from listening to this is more respect for the Stones and Zeppelin.

I've always respected the Talking Heads. Interesting, unique, creative, thoughtful. I've just never been able to get into the music. I find it unmoving and tedious.

Legend has it that someone once asked Eric Clapton what it felt like to be the best guitar player in the world and he replied, "I don't know. Ask Prince." Prince's live act was legendary. And here we have him trading all of that in for sequenced synths and drum machines. I get that he wanted a change of pace. But the product is little more than mildly interesting. And not infrequently it sags into self-parody. I can imagine the Ballad of Dorothy Parker or If I was Your Girlfriend being the product of a Chappelle Show skit. I'd give 4 stars to Dirty Mind or Controversy and 5 to any of 1999, Purple Rain, or Around the World in a Day.

There's something about the style of her songwriting that reminds me of musical theater - both trigger an intense negative emotional reaction in me. My emotional response is always to music. Lyrics can make a good song great, but they can't improve mediocre music at all. Joni Mitchell, and musical theater sound as if the songs are written to fit the lyrics. The words are not only paramount, but primary. It sounds like Joni writes her po-EMS and then follows Buddy the Elf's advice - she just talks them, only louder and longer and she moves her voice up and down. The result is not melody but a lead line that meanders and drifts and sounds unfocused and even shambolic to my ears. And that's what irritates me. I feel like I'm listening to a poet tack on music as an after thought. And then there's her voice. Now if she wrote great music, I wouldn't care. But since I don't like the songs, I try to find something to listen to and then I'm annoyed by her faerie little voice all tarted up with inelegant displays of vibrato. Vibrato is an affectation that I generally find weird and off-putting. I say generally because in the hands of a Master vocalist - I'm talking Sarah Vaughan or Dinah Washington level mastery - it can add an interesting dimension. But Joni's abuse of it makes her sound like an 8 year old trying to sound old; which makes me cringe even harder.

It's certainly interesting. It came close to engaging a couple of times. But ultimately, it feels self-indulgent; a public display of weirdness in an effort to prove individuality.

Music to get your shit together by. Makes painfully clear how trite most of what we listen to really is.

There are easily 1,000 musical acts worth hearing before one dies. So I would prefer that this list stuck to one album per band. If there are two by Green Day, then there needs to be at least a dozen from Miles Davis, 7 from Frank Sinatra, 5 each from the Beatles, Zeppelin and the Stones. Pretty soon you run out of slots for great never-heard-of-em's like Teenage Fanclub, Slint, Love as Laughter, etc. That said, like Dookie, this album is an amazing collection of songs. I couldn't give them an honest listen when they were on top of the world. Listening back though, Holy Macaroni.

The best. Literally expanded the very idea not only of what a music album could be, but of what pop-music could be. It inspired people to believe that their sound was limited only by the scope of their imagination. The richness and variation of western music from the 70s through today is a testament to that inspiration.

It's as though someone bet him he couldn't make a truly bad album and he made an effort to prove them wrong (a hypothetical that's consistent with his quirky sense of humor) by turning to yacht rock and pop synths. The man is responsible for at least two and legit 5-star albums (Bridge Over Troubled Water and Graceland) and four more that are in the running (Bookends, Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme, There Goes Rhymin' Simon', and Still Crazy After All These Years). This ain't one of 'em. Some albums are lost gems, some get lost for a reason...

I love soul-jazz fusion. I love the vibe of this record. But there are hundreds of albums from the genre that deliver better music than this one. Brian Jackson is competent; but not extraordinary when compared with his peers. Gil Scott Heron isn't a musician as much as a lyricist who dabbles in singing as a means of delivering his lyrics (ala Dylan). The inescapable fact is that music critics are, and always have been, writers of words. Writers of words love lyrics and lyricists. Gil Scott Heron may have been a tremendous lyricist (I'll leave that discussion to those who listen to lyrics). But as a songsmith, and a vocalist? He's pretty mediocre, because that was never his priority.

I respect these guys and what they're doing. I generally love sonic-collage type sounds. But where, say, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's collage produces a resonant, lush sound, these guys' sound is flat and tinny to my ears; to the point where it quickly becomes grating. Moreover, I don't find enough coherence between the melodic ideas within each track. I bought this album when it was released - back when people did that - and I listened to it several times back then. Coming back to it, I had no memory of any of the individual tracks. Ultimately, while I respect the effort, I just don't find the music engaging.

These are brilliant backing tracks. Had he collaborated with songwriters and performers he may have actually made something more than (admittedly gorgeous) sonic confections.

Quirky. Original when it came out. Unique forty years later. Great songs. A bit one-note. But always worth a listen.

There is so much to love here. The songs - the melodies and harmonic structures - are gorgeous and most of the production - instrumentation and arrangements- are unique, interesting, and sonically beautiful. But I'm left thinking that whoever's in charge doesn't believe that the music is enough. So they introduce all of these wink-wink clever elements that veer into novelty-act territory: the aren't-I-a-nerdy-wit lyrics, the Neil Youngish vocal fry, the intermittently over-compressed drums. So I appreciate what they're doing. I come really close to being moved at times; but each time I come close, they do something affected and unnecessary to ruin the mood.

Love it. So interesting and dark and beautiful and honest. Also check out XO. I think the songwriting on that album is even stronger than this amazing collection.

I keep trying. It's interesting. It falls into good from time to time. His voice is a trial though.

I tried to be cynical listening to this album for the first time in 28 or so years. Since the time when these songs seemed to have an exclusive lease on radio and MTV, I've always turned to Born to Run, Nebraska, Darkness on the Edge of Town, or the Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle for my Bruce Springsteen fix. So it had been a while. And I was ready to conclude that this was Bruce's jump the shark moment. Listening afresh I'm stunned by what an amazing collection of songs this is; pretty much without exception. The themes of alienation and redemption through community are beautifully wrought. There're ear worms everywhere. There's the joyful overwhelming spirit of the E Street Band. Sure, I prefer the sound of B-3s and horns to mid-80s synths. But that's a few nits in an otherwise gorgeous tapestry.

I appreciate the historic importance. And it's fun for a minute. But, as with almost all jump blues (all 12 bar blues to be honest), it gets really tedious after about three or four songs.

Once again, this list grabs a mediocre album by a once-interesting band. The Go-Betweens' Before Hollywood is fantastic. This album - I wish I could say it's forgettable. Unfortunately, its BAD. Bad as in, I'm rethinking my appreciation for Before Hollywood bad. 150 albums in and I've listened to mediocre albums by Metallica, U2, Bruce Springsteen, the Cure, the Black Keys, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, Paul Simon, Prince, Miles Davis, and now the Go-Betweens. Given the GREAT music that those acts are responsible for, It's remarkable.

You could track Gimme Shelter ten straight times and I'd give it five stars. That song still blows my mind after, who knows, 1,000 listens? Amazing. With Beggar's Banquet and, my favorite, Exhile on Mainstreet, this album makes up the Holy Trinity. It just doesn't get better.

Another good example of "the Nashville Sound"; the engineering is so rich and clean - I'm not sure any recordings sound better - and the musicianship is absolutely top-notch. The problem is always that Chet's insistence on consistency and perfection produced a whole lot of almost fungible tracks. None of these songs grab me like Merle's Swingin' Doors or the Bottle Let Me Down.

As good as any other Talking Heads album. I appreciate the honesty and the creativity. I'm just never moved by the music. That said, I've dropped Heaven into a playlist.

The backing tracks are great. She has a gorgeous voice when singing softly. Not sure she/the producers are doing her any favors trying to make her a power singer. She ends up sounding reedy. The lyrics are cringe-inducing; both when she's going universal-political and when she keeps it personal. That said, it's pretty easy to ignore cringe-inducing personal lyrics because pop music is somehow geared for personal statements. When an artist goes for the political, they better work really hard to nail the lyrics. Abbie Lincoln, Marvin Gaye and Chuck D. managed it. Janelle hasn't. The backing tracks are great though. I wish I could listen to the album without the vocal buses.

It's interesting. I'm not into audio books. And that's what this feels like: short stories, read by the author, set to robot music. I really dislike robot music. So it's not for me. But it is interesting.

I've owned this record for years. I love War's sound. But I think it really finds its special purpose on Cisco Kid, when they come up with amazing songs to wrap it around. On this album, they sound like a bunch of stoners who've found a great sound, want to say something, but find it much easier to just jam out.

Moon Safari is a brilliant album of fully realized songs. Compared to that, this sounds like what it is - one song followed by a series of musical ideas composed and arranged for the express purpose of complimenting scenes in a movie. Why in the world someone would choose to listen to this instead of one of Air’s collections of actual songs is mind-boggling. And it's going on the sublist. GROUPS THAT PRODUCED GREAT ALBUMS BUT ARE REPRESENTED ON THIS LIST BY A MEDIOCRE ALBUM: Air, Go-Betweens, Metallica, U2, Bruce Springsteen, the Cure, the Black Keys, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, Paul Simon, Prince, Miles Davis,

It's as bad as Blood, Sugar, Sex Magic and for the same reasons so I'll just copy and paste the same review. Chad Smith is amazing. Flea is great. They get two stars. Frusciante is technically accomplished. But he's one of the legion of guitar players who utterly lack musicality. He sounds lost most of the time; like his brain - fingers and not his ears - heart are driving his contributions. Kiedis sounds developmentally disabled; regardless of whether he's singing, shouting, or doing that cringe-inducing rap thing. Lyrically, he's like a 13 year old trying to convince someone he's a man. And together it's so disjointed - just a total mess to these ears.

Bowie’s best song may well be on his worst album. The title track is extraordinary; just brilliant. After that, the quality drops off a cliff. The word “indulgent” comes to mind. The first half (save Heroes) sounds like improvisation in the style of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Eno’s solo stuff is far more focused and rewarding listening than their collaborations here. And the Secret Life of Arabia falls into “unintentional parody” territory.

I really like this album. Which is surprising because I don't generally like electronic beats (robot music) or Eastern Mediterranean music. I listened to this album a lot when it came out; haven't listened to it for a decade; didn't expect to enjoy it when it popped on the list; but I was wrong. It's unique and the musical ideas are super-engaging.

I did not need to hear this before I die. Perhaps there's something in the lyrics. It sounds like a mediocre imitation of a Tribe Called Quest.

Super cheesy. Gorgeous recordings. What a voice. This is one of those, "yeah, but it just makes me smile" albums.

His flow is great. But that's about it. The lyrics are above-average. But why is popular hip hop SO thematically homogenous? Imagine if 60's folk (another lyric-centric genre) singers wrote of NOTHING but: (1) their reefer and amphetamines; (2) how attentive and considerate they were in the act of love; and (3) how stupendous their skills were in light of the lack of sophistication among all of the other Gibson-playing, black turtle neck wearing squares? It'd make the genre even worse than it is - which brings us back to popular hip hop. Moreover, the backing tracks, here, are trite and the atonal ornamentation (no doubt added as the creative "theme") is so chaotically incorporated that the producer comes off sounding like a tone deaf twelve-year old.

Brilliant. Probably my favorite hip hop album of all time.

Do It Again is fantastic. Dirty Work, and Reelin’ in the Years are solid. The rest bores me. Steely Dan is like someone in your friend group who never causes any drama but never really opens up and is the last person you'd call to hang out with.

Mildly interesting; but its not for me.

The harmonies are absolutely incredible (take THAT auto-tune). The songs are great. But the guy’s daughter says he had sex with her while she was unconscious (19 yrs old) and they had a sexual relationship for years after. It’s pretty hard to listen without prejudice with that information.

Ray Charles is royalty. I'd give anything from him five stars. But this album deserves them all (despite the occasional use of cheesy strings and mid-century white chorus). As an aside; Willie Nelson credits this album with making Country a commercially viable genre. With all of the ridiculous conversation over whether Beyonce's Cowboy Carter is Country, I never heard or read anyone cite to this album. To me it proved that that whole conversation was never about music.

The greatest jam band ever is still a jam band. The musicianship is absolutely incredible. But how people find such self-indulgence entertaining is beyond me. And is there anything more tedious and less moving than post-WWII 12-bar blues? Midnight Rider is the only song on here I care to listen to and this may very well be the worst performance of Midnight Rider ever to appear on a major label release. One star for each drummer, and you can keep the rest.

His flow is fine. His lyricism is slightly above average. The tracks feature some great bass lines, but are pretty average beyond that. I was never the target audience of Gangster Rap. So I'm ignorant when it comes to his historical significance. If he has a legit claim to being the O.G., he'd been passed by, artistically, by this point. Doesn't stand up to Ice Cube's music from 91-92.

A mediocre pop album filled with adolescent sensibilities. The engineering is top-rate. If I were a 13 year old girl I might like it. But I doubt it.

I'd rather listen to Bob Dylan.

Amazing collection of songs. The production doesn't hold up particularly well. Hard to believe people actually liked the sound of all of that solid state equipment.

I have a form of PTSD from We Built This City that causes me to want to dislike everything from the Jefferson franchise. So I went into this expecting some dumb hippy music. In spite of my prejudice, I actually think it’s really good.

Country pop by the numbers. Can’t think of a single thing you could do to make this music less interesting.

Thoroughly discomfiting, and at times painful; it is a literally brilliant artistic reflection on the moment - the horror of the L.A. Riots of 1992, and the long and deep tensions that ignited them.

Brilliant; and the sound escaped the orbit of its age. It still sounds as unique and beautiful as it did when it was released.

It's like Ennio Moriconi produced an album with Jake Bugg singing in front of Tom Jones' band. Wild man; wild. Maybe a bit theatrical. But wild.

If I'm going to take a trip down this memory lane, I'm reaching for Teenage Fanclub, Stone Roses, or even Luna before this. Ride sound like they were an amazing live band; especially in a field on a hot August night with glow sticks and ecstasy. But like so many great live bands, their songs don't quite translate to recording.

The lyrics are considerably more thoughtful and creative than most popular hip hop. But the beats and the flow are pretty average.

By far the most enjoyable Neil Young album I've ever heard. Great songs. I just wish to God he'd let someone else sing them.

The sounds aren't even interesting; and that's literally all it is - a collection of sounds.

The musical ideas are trite. The production is flat. His poem/stories seem like they're meant to be edgy but come across banal and pretentious. His bellowing is difficult to listen to for an entire song, let alone an entire album. It's a poor imitation of Tom Wait’s late-80s sound with none of the talents for songwriting and track production.

I love Roky Erickson's music. But there's a limit to the number of these songs I can listen to in a single sitting. There's a tribute album called Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye that has some interesting takes on a lot of these.

It's impressive that the Zombies seem to have understood what John, Paul, and Brian (Wilson) were doing in (4-track!!) studios, thoroughly enough to reproduce the tricks to comparable magical results. But what makes this - or any album - great is the songwriting. This is such a stellar collection of songs that it belongs in any conversation of the best of Psychedelica: Rubber Soul/ Pet Sounds/ Sgt Peppers/ Good Vibrations. Hundreds, if not thousands, of acts all over the world captured that sound that tickles the ears. But so very few are built on songs that move the soul.

So much talent. Brilliant producer, guitarist and keyboardist. But something critical is missing; it sounds like product instead of art. I think back to the White Stripes' Elephant (which I think is brilliant). Same voice, same musical inclinations and it FELT genuine. This, by contrast sounds like one clever idea after another just laid out as they arise, with no overarching vision, nothing to say, no effort at coherence. I wish he would collaborate more. Because all of that talent could use some critical feedback.

Two amazing tracks followed by an album's worth of experimentation from a group of talented musicians with suspect capacities for self-control and an obvious love of, to use the parlance of their day, mary jane. Not only does the lunacy that ensues make me smile, I actually found myself laughing out loud more than once.

I love this sound but have always preferred Songs to Learn and Sing as an album. Silver and the Killing Moon are brilliant. Seven Seas is solid. The rest sounds engineered.

Strangely, I can listen to 70s soft rock but have always hated the stuff from the 80s. Maybe because I hit puberty in 1982 and started listening to the Clash and the Stones. In any event, I still can't listen to this. It's like hotel art - so carefully crafted to be inoffensive that it drives me mad. Top-notch production tho.

Brilliant concept; brilliant song selection; brilliant arrangements; brilliant performances; brilliant production.

I'm not a fan of hip hop. Melody and harmonic progression are my favorite parts of music and I find mechanical performances unmoving. But brilliant works of art transcend genre and are recognizable to even the uninitiated and the ignorant.

Great exploration of the line between noise and music. Not sure I need a whole album's worth. But I'm really glad this is out there.

I thought it was boring in the 90s. If anything, it's gotten less interesting with age.

I've always wanted to love the Kinks. I've always liked them instead. The music is so interesting; but maybe that's the problem. It's too clever by half and I'm always made to feel like its really important to Ray that we all know that he knows how clever he is. The Zombies are similarly studio/musically clever, but their music sweeps me up emotionally. The Kinks' music is always, just, interesting.

A perfect soundtrack for Waldorf PTA knitting circles...

90s-pop-by-the-numbers production; some of the most irritating vocal affectations ever recorded; and SO MUCH lyrical detritus: to paraphrase, its the sound of pretensions falling all around

With autotune, the robot take over of "music" is complete. It produces in me the same emotional response as linoleum.

I'm a huge fan of classic country. There's nothing memorable about this album.

It’s not often that I say myself, I’d rather not go on living than have to do it listening to this. In that context, I think it’s a testament to my fortitude that I got 1:30 into the second track.

These guys were so amazing, right out of the box. This album suffers from the same conundrum as Help! It's amazing but is almost impossible to fairly judge because, from here, it stands in the shadows of the legends that follow.

One of those albums that’s literally stunning every time you hear it. The man was a gift from the gods that keeps on giving. Unique for many reasons; among them - the first track is the only dud.

I was going to give it 2 stars, mostly on the middling strength of All I Wanna Do. But then I read about how many people she's offended.

Sonically gorgeous. He is absolutely brilliant musically. But as a collection of songs, it's pretty self-indulgent. It also tends to feel a bit unedited lyrically and melodically, as though he's so eager to get to the studio to arrange and produce that he rushes the song-writing.

Loved it from the day it was released.

A great sampling of one of the most unheralded staples of 80s pop - the frenetic bass line. Other than that; meh. The Look of Love is a solid addition to any 80s playlist. But the vocal affectations and synth sounds haven't aged particularly well.

Sister and Daydream Nation make up the stage of Sonic Youth's greatness. EVOL was the staircase leading up; Goo was the staircase leading back down. . . And it's still 5-star great.

I appreciate people who explore the line between noose and music. This album does that, but in an apparent attempt to irritate the listener; with significant success. On the rare occasions that they veer into something resembling song (e.g. Human Cannonball) it’s pretty sweet. But not enough to justify a second listen.

I love Steely Dan's sound. But there's something so smug, unmoving, and off putting about their songwriting that I can barely get through three songs at a time. Applies to every SD album I've ever heard; including this one.

I have the same reaction to this as to Deep Purple. There is NO WAY I should love this goofy, utterly-ridiculous music as much as I do. But do any of us really CHOOSE who we love?

Like Coltrane, Mingus was an absolute genius who went from playing beautiful and engaging music early to pushing the frontiers of jazz so far as to create music that is almost unlistenable to most of us mortals. Ah-Um, from 5 years earlier, is my favorite point on that progression. This album has hints of greatness but veers off the road too damn much to be enjoyable.

Super fun. Well made. But not particularly memorable. If I want this groove, I'm going to reach for Isaac, Curtis, or Stevie.

I loathe this thin, reedy, vibratoed, technically accomplished but soulless and powerless woman's vocal style so much I can't listen long enough to form an opinion.

A goofy concept executed perfectly; like anything Deep Purple or the first Earth Wind & Fire album.

This was my obsession from 15 to 21. No way I can be objective.

Not for me.

I feel like I'm listening to someone demonstrate what ProTools 2009 could do. Just way too much engineering.

VM is tolerable performing actual songs; like The Way Young Lovers Do or Madame George. But so much of this album comes across as free-form modal jamming from a bunch of stoned hippies led by a bleating billy goat. Whenever I'm in the mood for mandolins I reach for Rod Stewart, and then for Moondance; never this album.

Nice little album but unmemorable. I actually bought this when it came out and forgot all about it. Even seeing it on my list - no memory until the first song; which is adorable.

Polished punk pop sound. But utterly forgettable music. They're like the Libertines without the magic. Cocaine may make for great musicians; but heroine is so much better for making music.

This is among my favorite sounds from the 20th century. Brilliantly recorded. Top-notch musicianship. But the lack of melody and uninspired lyrics consign it to being just great background music

I had a fine time in middle school. But it is about the LAST period of my life I'm nostalgic for. I honestly thought to myself at the beginning of the title track that I was listening to a scared eighth-grader's ranting when the little kid started screaming and confirmed it. The production warrants a 3. I appreciate extending the lane that Rick Rubin carved out on Licensed to Ill But the vocals...I feel dumber for having listened to this.

Love it. I only knew them from their boring arena-pop. Turns out they once wanted to do more than just sell tickets to sheep.

Amazing.

Two things strike me: 1) the engineering is incredible; and 2) Jerry's fingers must have been SO strong. He was clearly a great performer, but this album demonstrates how amazing a musician Ray Charles was. Listening back, 50's Rock and Roll sounds quaint and the 12-bar jump blues progression gets tedious quickly. So I'm glad I listened, but I won't be coming back.

It got me wondering, can "the Woman" really be your "baby" if she does not (yet, perhaps) love you? Beyond that, there's not much here for me except for the reverb. Never been a fan of Phil Spector's sound. Dion was right when he said the production makes the album sound like funeral music. But the songs aren't much either. Though I do like Mott the Hoople's version of Your Own Backyard.

Interesting; but easily forgettable. I try to let go and get sucked into the trance that the tracks promise. But the annoying vocals, bouncing through a series of unconnected melodic fragments, push me into an almost constant desire to listen to something else.

It’s interesting, for 60s folk. But I dislike Dylan’s voice so much that I’m triggered by those who ape his irritating affectations.

If a doctor ever decides that I need to be induced into a coma, I hope they accomplish it by playing this album for me on loop. It sounds GORGEOUS; from her voice, the instrumentation, the engineering, the mixing - lush, warm and clear in a way that few recordings accomplish. But the performances thus captured are just SO boring.

I've owned this record for decades. I pull it out every 2-3 years thinking maybe I'll finaly realize why people seem to like it. Still just sounds like a soulless pop cover band. On the plus side, it is really well recorded.

What was commonplace forty-fifty years ago has become the rarest of musical acts; a band - as opposed to an individual and a computer holed up in a bedroom - with the ability to write melodic hooks actually exploring the sonic boundaries of 20th century rock/pop.

I generally dislike pop music. But I've loved Thriller my whole life. I didn't like this album when it came out. I didn't really care so I never gave it much thought. Listening now, I think it's because Q turned the rhythm section over to synths and sequencers and that creates a flat, lifeless sound. Billie Jean has the simplest/straitest drum part maybe ever recorded. But that drum performance is AMAZING and it infuses an urgency into the entire track. Compare the feeling of that to anything here. Y A W N

Masterful usage of early 90s sampler/sequencer tech. But like most masters of that moment, without a gripping lead, you end up with a series of interesting but lifeless tracks. What's more, I find no coherence to the album. It's like a collection of background tracks from different films.

Amazing sounds. For me though, even the best instrumental music never holds my attention. It can only become great background music; which this certainly is.

Mildly interesting from an historical perspective; to learn that someone was making this music in S.F. in 1958. Musically, I can't find any reason why I needed to hear this album before I die.

When someone claiming to collect the greatest artwork of the 20th century throws in the equivalent of a digital print taken from the wall of a Courtyard by Marriott you know you're being trolled.

Just a great collection of songs.

The pop-music-as-sugary-confection metaphor is perfected with these songs. As appealing as they are on the surface, by the end of three I need something substantive or I begin to feel queasy. And the lyrics are among the worst ever published. But as much as I'd like to detest it outright, there's no denying the other-worldly power of those hooks.

I'm so glad this music exists. I don't think any group of people with the musical understanding and ability of a band of 13 year olds and fortunate enough to know a very competent drummer with nothing better to do could make music any more interesting than this. It never rises beyond novelty-act status. But it never feels like anyone wanted it to. I started high school in '83. Rock Lobster was a staple of our dances and we always went NUTS for it. I can only imagine what the house parties in Athens must have been like four years earlier.

Frank is amazing on everything recorded in the 50s and much of what he recorded through the 60s. But of all of the albums with Nelson Riddle, this one is my least favorite. Riddle is so good at arranging big band horns and their swing collaborations both before and after this one continue to be some of the most mind-blowing music ever recorded. But Riddle's string arrangements sound trite to me; like mediocre film scores from the era. And these arrangements cause Frank to deliver over-theatrical, almost melodramatic performances. The jazz is all but gone; replaced by Welk-like pop that bores me.

"He's not paid to think, just play." This album leaves me to conclude that the 22 year old Ray Davies didn't seem to appreciate that music is more about feeling than thinking. And the only thing that he seemed to feel at this point was cynicism and bitterness. He's undoubtedly clever lyrically. But there are only three SONGS here that I care to listen to: Little Miss Queen of Darkness, Sunny Afternoon, and I'll Remember. And the fact that they're buried at the back of Side B suggests he wasn't nearly as interested in exploring his gift for song writing as he was of proving how clever he was.

Beautifully recorded. The 12 bar blue numbers are well done. But like all 12 bar blue instrumentals - grow quickly monotonous. The ii-V-I numbers are more interesting. No one did a jazz quartet/quintet with a tenor and a B-3 better. Still not sure it totally works. The B-3 is such a great mood enhancer - like a peddle steel in country music. But as a lead? Hmmmm. And other than Turrentine, the players are competent but not stellar jazz improvisers. Great background music.

Extraordinary. The obvious - the musicianship, the synchronicity between mates, and the immensely creative song structures. But what makes this album great is what makes any album of songs great - emotional impact; and emotional impact comes from the use of harmonic structure and, most importantly, strength of melody. What's so amazing about this album is that there are often three and sometimes four counterpoint melodic ideas going on simultaneously and most of them are really strong. There are more strong melodic ideas in many of these individual songs than there are in most modern albums. And the complex harmonic progressions SERVE the emotional impact of the songs, rather than just show off an understanding of harmony and a capacity for complex ideas. Yes, these guys are all exceptionally learned, technically proficient and clever. But the album is great because the musicality is primary; and the cleverness and complexity are always employed in service of its pursuit.

I bought this album on CD when it came out and I've listened to it repeatedly. I find it wholly unmoving. Sonically, it's anxiety inducing. We know Thom can write beautiful melodies. It seems, however, that he's convinced himself that the concepts of melody, and even perhaps beauty, are banal. It comes across as wholly calculated and cynical; and it always leaves me feeling cold and empty.

Meh. Another band that adored the Ramones but liked the muscled sound of late 90s amplifiers. They perfected their sound; to the point where the album is pretty monotonous. Ultimately, I heard nothing that I'll remember.

Loved this album when it came out. Three or four classic songs. I love this era of building backing tracks by quilting samples. An era tragically cut short by greed and an ignorant U.S. District judge in NY. I was lucky enough to see Tribe play in a basement in Oberlin, OH to about 100 people. They were fantastic live. All that said, I don't think this album ages terribly well. Across time it sounds quaint and awkward - like they had an idea of what they wanted to sound like and were exploring in an attempt to realize it. In that regard Low End Theory ages much better; the sound of that album is perfected, it flows brilliantly and the rhymes are much more confident and interesting.

I'm struck by how many superficial similarities this has with Herbie Hancock's Head Hunters - jazz/funk fusion, exploration of electric keys with horns and guitar. Superficial similarities; because if listening to Head Hunters is like the best sex you ever had, listening to this is like sitting through a junior college lecture about intercourse. Head Hunters is heart, soul and libido, this comes across as applied theory and and fear of misstep. Donald Fagan definitely belongs in any conversation of artists who made a living draining a musical style of everything that makes it great: Lawrence Welk, Pat Boone, Kenny G. So polished; so awful.

For me Monk, as a composer, is second only to Bach in making music that reflects the fullness of life. It's almost unfathomably complex, at times messy, filled with tension, and constantly taking unexpected turns. But with all of that, it's beautiful and exciting, occasionally funny, and undeniably rooted in some grand pattern that we, mere mortals, can only vaguely recognize. And like life, as crazy as it gets, it always leaves me wanting more. Brilliant Corners is an absolute masterpiece.

The only thing interesting about this album is whether the lyrics of Welfare Mothers or the extraordinarily bad attempt at punk rock on Sedan Delivery is more cringe-inducing. Good Lord; enough with Neil Young! I’ve heard 4-guitar suburban dad garage bands that are more engaging than this. Enough already.

Recorded music is now 100 years old. You can make a strong case that there are 1,000 acts that have recorded music over that time that every music lover should hear before they die. In that context, we have three albums (at least) from the Beastie Boys on this list?? Paul's Boutique belongs. It's mind-blowing. Licensed to Ill...OK...it's historically important and pretty great. But that's where their representation should end. This album is fine. A couple of great radio-classic hits; some latin-funk jams that are fun, though a pale reflection of the 70s recordings they are imitating. And it falls off from there (and goes on and on and on.) I like Check your Head better. But neither is among the 1,000 albums everyone should hear before they die.

The fifth best Zeppelin album is so f#@king good.

Yes, schizophrenic musicians are interest. But the Piper at the Gates of Dawn gives any music fan a full taste of Syd Barrett AND is actually an album; and a really intriguing, cohesive one at that. This? This comes across as a basket of basement tapes.

Absolutely brilliant. At a time when American suburbanites' love for Sinatra made big band swing old fashioned and unhep, an OG said, "dig this" and makes arguably the best album in the genre's history. Cutting edge jazz at the time was Hard Bop with its faster, faster / more is better / Thousands of Notes per Minute ethos. Basie carved space into every arrangement and let very simple melodic lines dangle almost impossibly behind the beat.

Comforting and pretty; but not very interesting.

Still love it. It's striking how rare originality is in music made after 1980. Nobody has ever sounded like the Pixies. Great melodies. Emotional journeys. Fully baked right out of the box. F#$ing amazing.

If lyrics are more important than music to your appreciation for recordings, you might love the Drive By Truckers. When I want to celebrate poetry, or essays, I read books. When I listen to recordings, I want to be moved by music. There are moments of interesting southern rock here; but next to these guys' idols it's always a little pale, a little quaint. And the vocals - like Neil Young who they seem to adore - are just painful. I've wanted to like them for decades. But I just don't.

I love this album - start to finish

The incredible thing about the Smiths is that they never had a weak album; from The Smiths to Strangeways. My favorite is whichever I happen to be listening to. Morrissey and Marr get all of the love, but name me a tighter bassist/drummer combo than Rourke and Joyce. Those guys are in the Jones/Bonham category of creating unique, creative, but incredibly solid, rhythm platforms to support all of the genius stacked on top.

I get what people like about Oasis, I just find it annoying. Musically, they're a decent evolution of the Stone Roses/Charlatans sound. Noel's guitar playing is derivative but engaging. What makes Oasis' sound unique is Liam's vocal styling. But that's a product of that particular combination of conceit and idiocy that I find most loathsome in human beings. The one thing that's unique and interesting about this band curls my upper lip. So I get it, but it irritates me.

If this album were any worse it would be interesting. Unfortunately, it isn't.

The bass line on the Humpty Dance is brilliant. Other than that, I hear an hour of young men awkwardly stroking their own egos over mediocre robotic backing tracks.

Classic pop album. Sounds great. One great and very-radio-friendly song, and then a bunch of nonsense that makes you suspect that the one song was accidental. Nile Rodgers is a great producer and he and Bernard Edwards make great backing tracks. Chic was just missing songwriting and interesting leads.

I didn't enjoy this as much as Music from Big Pink. Their style is inherently shambolic and experimental; when they polished it up, for this album, it just lost a little something. I'm not a huge fan of this late 60s hippy Americana to begin with. If I'm in the mood, I'd reach for American Beauty (for the quality of the songs), or Music from Big Pink before coming back to this.

Of all of the 60s hippy Americana, these guys - with their southern influences and tendency towards raw emotion over stoner-chill - are my favorite. That said, it's still 60s hippy Americana.

The only band that mattered. How can I give this five stars with Give 'em Enough Rope and London Calling on the horizon? But how in hell can I give it less than five when it is so fucking off the hook amazing?

A great voice. And the song (not the track, the song) While You See a Chance is really strong. Beyond that, this album is one cringe-inducing element stacked on another. This is the precise moment when synths went from mind-blowing, other-worldly, and exotic to limp and feeble. Synths could still be fascinating - hear what Peter Gabriel or Greg Hawkes (Cars) are doing at the same time. But those guys were spending time and energy programming their sounds. SW showed the music industry that you could sell albums by being lazy; punching up the canned sounds on a Yamaha. So that's what we got for the rest of the 80s. The lyrics on Spanish Dancer are like an average SNL skit - no one could write these in earnest so they must be intended to be funny, but they aren't. They're just really dumb. The only track that doesn't sound painfully dated (thanks to those Yamaha synths) is Slowdown Sundown; but it just sounds like Van Morrison. (I would say watered-down VM, but VM is pretty watered down to begin with.) Great voice though. Imagine if he'd teamed up with a great musical partner/instrumentalist. (If you need a demonstration of how bad this album is, listen to the Spencer Davis Group...)

These songs bore me. Electronica/Trip Hop is not my thing. But the music of Moby or Fatboy Slim is interesting. This is not. Might work as a soundtrack to a low-budget sci-fi movie. Hard to get through it without moving pictures though. Definitely not an album I needed to hear before I die.

Hugely important historically; reviving interest in ska and making combatting racism ultra-cool. A Message to You Rudy remains an absolute gem. I can only imagine how mind-blowing it must have been to see these guys live in a club back in the day. But the rest of the album, 45-years on? It's a schizophrenic experience. The more punkish, up-tempo tracks (It's Up to You, Monkey Man, Dawning of a New Era, Little Bitch) still sound fresh and fantastic. The purer ska tracks (Doesn't Make it Alright, Too Hot, Blank Expression, Stupid Marriage, Too Much Too Young) have incredible backing tracks but are severely diminished by the irreverent approach to vocals, which may have sounded nonchalant and cool at the time, but now sounds lazy and uninspired. Particularly in light of how great they sound when they finally take vocals seriously on You're Wondering Now.

Incredible high points. Papa Was a Rollin' Stone is one of the top ten tracks of the 20th Century IMO. But the album? It's just too eclectic to qualify as a classic. So like so many others - it's that album that that song was on.

For God so loved the World, that he sent the Ramones. Mind-blowing technical prowess and a clear mastery of traditional western harmony. I also love the early synths. But music is, at its core, emotional. Any "understanding" should work in service of creating/communicating/manipulating feelings. This music makes me feel the way I used to feel doing Calculus problem sets. It isn't just that it's Prog Rock. Yes manages to take similar complexity and prowess and use it in service of emotional communication. This doesn't make me feel anything; it just sounds supremely calculated.

I appreciate her song writing ability. Like so many hook masters, her albums are very peak and valley. But, here, Shake it Off is bona fide. What I can't stand is the electronic backing tracks. All robo-musica sounds so sterile to me. Give me her first album, or the first side of Red.

Loved it when it came out. 35 years later - meh. It sets a mood but that's about it. The best thing about this album is that it introduced me to Be Thankful For What You've Got. But listening to this after years of listening to William DeVaughn and Curtis Mayfield's versions, this one lands pretty flat.

Every song (with maybe 2 exceptions) is pop gold. But none of it is pop. The best art is often forged in personal pain and social adversity.

Brilliant through and through.

Kurt's obvious influence is the only interesting aspect of this album. R.I.P. Kurt.

Beverly Hills Cop is a fantastic movie; with a mediocre soundtrack. This is like that soundtrack; only worse.

As disappointing today as it was when released. An INCREDIBLE aspect of the Smith's run is that any of their albums would get 5 stars. This? The lyrics may still be interesting, but the music is dull; the magic was never Morrissey or Marr but arose from the tension between.

Coincidently, the weekend before this came up on my list I was having a party and put on this record. Halfway into Chameleon a friend said, "can you turn this off? It's way too anxious." Fuck her. I love this shit.

Fantastic through and through. Holds up remarkably well.

I appreciate the effort that went into, and intelligence reflected in, the lyrics.

It's like a movie that should work but doesn't. All of the pieces are in place, but for some reason it comes out a mess. Interesting sound. Guitar player has chops. But none of the songs grip me. No ear worms, the harmonic progressions sound calculated, and there's a weird incoherence between the musical instincts of (1) whoever wrote the backing tracks and (2) whoever wrote the vocal melodies. It all adds up to an album that sounds fine but that doesn't work.

Tracks: No matter how creative the programming - robot music leaves me feeling cold. Rhymes: Is the threshold for being considered a genius making 30% of your lyrics meaningful and interesting?

Steven Van Zandt's sound and Bruce's incredible narrative and melodic talents as a songwriter. Has there ever been a more impressive debut album?

Super glad I listened to this; won't listen to it again. Important album, but I dislike it as much as I disliked NIN from the get go. Industrial just isn't my thing.

Not sure which is the bigger joke - the songs on this album or its inclusion on this list.

It just doesn't quite work, does it? The components are impressive. But Ginger never sounds like he's playing WITH the music. He just sounds like a gorilla with really good rhythm who's off in a corner doing his thing. The mix - him low and over to the R - accentuates the disconnect. The lyrics are silly. There's not an ear worm to be found. Clapton's guitar chops are legit; but his 12 bar blues tracks are limp and soggy. Sunshine is a great track, but listening to the entire album makes me suspect its greatness is entirely accidental.

It sounds like what it is - one component of VU. VU (album) and w/ Nico were magical. Listening to this makes you appreciate that the magic is so often in the tension and collaboration. That said, Wild Side is near perfect.

I consider this the greatest album of all time.

It is masterfully creative and reflects a stuffing artistic bravery. But in 50 years, I've just never enjoyed listening to the morass that follows the title track; which is frustrating because it sounds gorgeous and Marvin Gaye had one of the prettiest voices of the 20th Century. I appreciate the effort at crafting a set of politically minded songs. But there is nothing poetic in the lyrics. And the melodies sound like little more than modal improvisation. So I spend 40 minutes begging it to coalesce - musically - but it never does.

A few stars have the voice of an angel. Adele has the voice of a goddess. The fact that I can stay engaged in this mediocre collection of songs with its Adult-Oriented-Pop production is a testament to her astonishing talent.

Great guitar riffs. Is there any connection between them and the vocals? Sounds like they weren't even listening to the tracks while recording, just singing their balls off. The drumming reminds me of the story that Bonham once bought a double bass kit. After the first time he used it, Page found his drum tech and told him that if he ever gave John two bass drums again, he would no longer have a job with Led Zeppelin. Ultimately, like Deep Purple, I may not like what these guys are doing, but kudos to them for knowing what they want to sound like and going for it without giving a s&% what prigs like me think.

Only band whose every album ranks five stars. Amazing out of the gate; broke up before they could suck.

Good God is this bad. The robo-assault dance music is wholly unmoving. And as much as I dislike robot music, the tiny spaces without her voice are the best parts.

The excitement about young bands, or garage bands, is the sense of exploration, adventurism, and courage conveyed by people who aren't quite sure what they're doing going for it anyway. For some reason, once the members of a rock band master their craft some magic disappears. They can compensate by embracing a polished sound and selling bazillions, or experimenting in different directions, by becoming studio rats for example. It sounds to me like the Dandy Warhols, here, have perfected their craft - the songwriting and the performances - but they're nostalgic for the magic of their younger years. Instead of going polished, like their peers Weezer or the Outcast - or experimental like Wilco, they just muddied up their sounds with eq and reverb. So you have these pretty little pop hooks, from a very tight band who clearly know what they're doing, but with this amateurish production. It's the worst of all worlds; the magic's gone and it still sounds muddy.

Amazing performances through and through. These are clearly legends. But they sound like it - a bit listless and tired. And this is music that should MOVE you start to finish. As played here, it is perfect elevator / background music.

Rap is not my thing. I'm not a fan of the robots making music and am drawn, in music, to melody and harmonic progression over lyric and rhythm. That said, I can't dismiss this album. Biggie's flow is amazing and the creativity and intelligence reflected in the rhymes is undeniable. The subject matters are super challenging. But it comes across as a 100% honest chronicling of an American experience.

A delightful collection of dumb songs with one exception; Our Lips Are Sealed is actually legit. From there its just dumb and dumber which renders a complete mystery the fact that We Got The Beat is so damned fun to listen to. Try doing something like that AI!

I've wanted to like Depeche Mode for forty years. I respect the songwriting. I just don't like the sound.

Some interesting ideas that never seem to go anywhere; which makes it, ultimately, just a waste of a fairly decent drummer.

Magnificently absurd? Absurdly magnificent? Depends on my mood. It is an overly-long self-indulgent epic, the first 3/4 of which I have adored regularly for almost fifty years, and the last 1/4 of which I've probably only heard twice because it's just too much, which I'm guessing was always the point.

I still prefer the desperation and urgency of The Hurting over the polish and refinement of Songs. But this has aged remarkably well; especially for a big-budget synth based album released in '85.

Mingus-esque songwriting and arranging with Duane Allman-esque jam band sensibilities. It's like mixing plaid with stripes; it takes a genius to pull it off. Zappa is certainly a genius. But I love plaid and dislike stripes. One either enjoys listening to jam bands or one doesn't. If, like me, you don't, then regardless of how great you think his mind-blowing heads and arrangements are, the 80-85% percent of this album occupied by self-indulgent soloing is just taxing.

This album makes me light headed with joy. Give me Chrissie Hynde and Debbie Harry and you can keep the rest.

It's like Supertramp playing songs that were cut from the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, only with dumber lyrics, and with musical nods to Brian Wilson. If there were even a hint of care or craft in the lyrics this would be a solid 4. But the music is too creative and unique to give it a 3.

Run, DMC, Jam Master Jay and Russell Simmons were instrumental in the transition of a novelty into a genre that's now 40 years old. So this is of enormous historical importance. But through the lens of time, it sounds quaint. Glad I listened to it. Doubt I'll listen to it again.

Thank God I got this on a Friday. A 2hrs 14min running time is long for a movie. I chopped it in two. There is undeniable brilliance on both sides. I personally liked The Love Below, despite its lurches towards novelty/comedy, more because rhythmic chattering over robot beats just isn't my thing. The problem - with both "albums" - is the lack of editing. Speakerboxxx falls off at Flip Flop Rock; The Love Below around Love in War. Honestly as impressed as I was by Andre 3000's imagination, I found myself praying that the album was over after each track from there to the end. There may be a five-star album among these 40 tracks, but no matter how great some of the material is, if you end up hoping it will end, it ain't a classic.

In a twist of cliche, my teenage self avoided these guys. My 55 year old self loves them. The performances, the recordings, the melodies. Sure the satanic themes are too much. But I just think of that as novelty. It was prejudice pure and simple. The frizzy haired, motorcycle jacket wearing druggies who hung out in the High School's smoking section wore Iron Maiden Tees and those guys were losers. I loved the Clash but wouldn't go near Black Sabbath. I have Kurt Cobain to thank for tearing a giant whole in my invented metal/punk boundary. Thanks Kurt. My life continues to grow richer because of you. R.I.P.

It starts off sounding like closing credit songs from a mediocre Disney movie and gets worse as the songwriting gives way to audio "written" and arranged by computer programmers and performed by computers churning out digital tones. It's the audio equivalent of watching a CGI screen saver. It promises wonder but delivers only vague spiritual confusion, alienation, and dread. I was pretty proud of myself for getting through six songs when I saw ITS A DOUBLE ALBUM!! It's 6:20 a.m. and I'm going back to Iron Maiden. Even first thing in the morning I prefer the animalism of satanic metal over this lifeless chamber of virtual sounds.

Bowie was brilliant. But after perfecting his own incredible sound, his subsequent dabbling in other genres (electronica, Philly Soul) produced some mediocre albums. Bowie's vocal stylings were always more Joe Strummer than Donny Hathaway. Excepting the bookends, which are incredible tracks, his punk-rock vocal instincts simply don't work over the lush, beautifully recorded (if occasionally by-the-numbers) Philly-Soul tracks. Had this album been sung by any of the backing singers, Solomon Burke, Hathaway, Darryl Hall or one of a thousand other Soul singers, it may be worth listening to. With Bowie's voice it isn't. Definitely another of this list's mediocre albums by a brilliant artist, joining Metallica, U2, Bruce Springsteen, the Cure, the Black Keys, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, Paul Simon, Prince, Miles Davis, and the Go-Betweens. Given the GREAT music that those acts are responsible for, It's remarkable. A whole start for the title track; the rest earns a D.

I love this collection of songs. There was this interesting sub-genre in the early 90s of bands using the same wall-of-pedal-overdriven-guitars sound as the Seattleites, but writing poppy but radio-unfriendly songs. In addition to this great album, Ted Leo (in both Chisel and with the Pharmacists) and Teenage Fanclub come to mind. They've been all but lost as Grunge and bad radio pop has sucked up all of the culture's memory of that moment. But they deserve to be listened to because they are fantastic.

You can make a pretty strong argument that, save the pure jazz albums, all of the music on this list owed something to Ray Charles. And side 1 of this album proves he could stand toe-to-toe with the jazz greats too. I prefer his birth of R&B recordings with Atlantic. But these two sides, like almost everything he did, are fantastic.

Dreamlike; By turns breathtaking in its beauty and angst-inducing in its chaos; unpredictable; but somehow always genuine. Over the decades I've tried and failed repeatedly to describe how or why this album works. As the man said, "writing about music is like dancing about architecture." Ultimately, there's just a truthfulness that feels disgusting and exhilarating, intense and soothing, ordered and chaotic: human.

Listening to this is like the sonic equivalent of cutting. I understand that some are compelled towards physical pain in search of equilibrium or release. I'm not; so probably can't understand why. It's not just the cheap overdrive. It's playing songs a little bit faster than they're technically capable of. It's engaging in these seemingly random harmonic progressions. It's detuning aimed at cheap dissonance. The screaming. The whole thing just sounds like it's meant to be assaultive. Which, again, I know some people, er, appreciate. I can make out just enough of the lyrics to get that there's some kind of political message in there. I just can't make out enough to get what it is. I see that this came out the year before Rage Against the Machine formed. So maybe without Fugazi we wouldn't have Rage. That's worth a star. Another for their creativity - there's definitely a commitment to a unique sound.

I'm not sure what just happened. The first time through, listening - distracted - in my car, I was ready to write it off after Seeland. But the moaning in Let' wohl was interesting. As I was getting out, Hero caught my ear. So next morning I pulled out my headphones, laid down on the couch, and restarted it. I had this deeply-felt quasi-religious experience. I didn't swoon or get amped up or laugh or cry. It was subtle. I felt secure, expansive, hopeful. Honestly, WTF. Why I love certain music and not others is as mysterious as why I love certain people. But when you find that special one, and it clicks, you just thank the Gods and celebrate life. (Note - if you're interested in liking this album, listen on a dedicated stereo or headphones in a quiet place. The magic is in the mids which get swallowed by background noise, and are underrepresented on bluetooth and soundbar speakers.)

Backing Tracks: + 3 stars Fred Durst: - 2 stars Inspiration for Some of the Funniest Reviews: + 1 star A band who had perfected its sound, recorded well. A frontman every bit as bad as everyone says. His anti-contribution to each recording is astonishing.

Perfection. There are some albums of a beauty that mocks the sincerest efforts to explain it.

Can't be bothered to write a melody; Can't be bothered to sing a whole line; Can't be bothered to tune his guitar; But he's a musical geEEEEEEEEEnius. Because the words, the Words, the WOOOOOOORDS Well I can't HEAR the words; cuz the man is obviously wrestling with ConstipAAAAAtion.

The band had a great sound and these are brilliant recordings - so lush, full, and clear. Pretty amazing that the band themselves produced something that sounds this good so early in their career. Not really enough musical ideas to carry the whole album. The instrumentals, while they sound great, kind of meander. That said, there are a handful of strong tracks - which is better than a lot of the albums on this list - and it just sounds so f#@ing great.

The most interesting part of listening to this is wondering whether the Soft Rock - Smooth Jazz - New Age production vibe of the 80s is just triggering for me or objectively irritating. Incredible, in retrospect, that the industry turned away from the tube systems and whole room recording techniques for all of this close-mic'd-nascent digital reverb-solid state processing. Throw in the regular appearances of Kawai synths and Kenny G sax stylings and by Oxford Street I was so depressed by the sound that I started focusing on the lyrics. That made it worse. Like a sophomoric ode to meek suburban living.

It's great to hear people being creative with sound. It illuminates how much unimaginitive imitation we spend our lives listening to. The problem here is that, ironically, like pop music, there's no substance - it's all about the sound. I appreciate that the woman at the center is committed to avoiding conventions, but she doesn't seem to be interesting, clever, or musical enough to replace those conventions with anything worth listening to.

Solid start to finish.

Like early 60's LPs, it's more a collection of singles than an "album." Her voice is extraordinary. The R&B covers sound flat. But the less R&B tunes, while generally cheesier songs, are better at showing off her sultriness which is where her magic lies.

What a fascinating train wreck this is. Heroine may giveth, but it always taketh away. And boy has it taken Lou by this point. It not only owns his vocals - he sounds so smacked out that I picture two personal assistants having to clutch his elbows to keep him upright at the mic - but also the songs, which are so tragically bad as to veer into Andy Kaufman territory. And conceptually you have the former King of Lo-Fi slurring over these lushly recorded, masterfully played backing tracks, with arrangements that include full orchestration! It does not work. But what a mess. Definitely worth listening to just to marvel at the chaos, absurdity, and tragedy of it all.

Nothing against Cee-Lo. I like his songs and his arrangements. But 75 or so years ago, musicians and fans started trading in complexity and technique for passion and emotion. Jump Blues, R&B, and Rock & Roll were first and foremost about communicating raw emotion and energy. Now we're fed bloops and bleeps performed by computers; totally devoid of any hint of humanity. But with Robo-Pop, we haven't gained anything interesting, musically. The computers are programmed to play the same simplistic conventions - straight 4 time, 3 major chords, and "solos" in pentatonic scale. I find it to be among the most unmoving and uninteresting "music" ever recorded.

Loved it. Four (five?) accomplished musicians merging their influences and styles to really interesting effect - but always in service of whatever song their playing. Incredibly, it seems to be a rarity.

I am not what you’d call a fan of Jack White, but this album is a Super Sugar Queen.

Not my favorite Miles period, let alone album; and it's an unmitigated 5/5. It'd be 10/10 or 100/100. Revolutionary and so accessible. Oh, and it was the second time he reinvented jazz. And he'd do it at least twice more. That's why he's on my Rushmore with Duke, Ray, and Q.

Musically it plays like a collection of half baked ideas. Which leaves us 40 minutes of listening to John Lennon's reflections on the results of his psycho and scream therapy. No thanks.

It's a tease. So much clever! Interesting arrangements, clean production Great backline. But only 3 real songs. The rest is frustrating, over-conceptualized, and affected. Dear God is pretty great though.

The butterfly emerging from the cocoon. Brilliant Brilliant Brilliant Brilliant Brilliant What's to come is mind-blowing. But looking back into this early morning shadow, this album really shines.

What a schizophrenic experience. Three of the covers are cringe inducing in that cliched Woodstock-Era-White-Boys-Playing-Soul-Music way. (2 stars) Sandwiched between you have four of the greatest songs of the era. (5 stars). Grapevine is interesting, but WAAAAAY too long. And then it ends beautifully. (4 stars) That averages to a 3.75, which is probably a bit low given how f'cking good those four songs are.

Never listed to Deep Purple before this project. I love Machine Head. This album doesn't grab me in the same way. But three stars to any band who knows what it wants to sound like and goes for it heart and soul. No pretense or affectation anywhere around these guys.

My favorite album by the mighty Mighty. One of my ten dessert island albums.

I dislike this hippy-dippy R&B-light sound. But (very UNlike Astral Weeks) the great songs here just wash up on shore one after another.

This is extraordinary. The conception, performances, recording, and production are all mind-blowing. It is, however, like an auditory depiction of a schizophrenic episode; which is an experience I can't say I particularly enjoy. But really impressive.

Shoulda stuck to their tradition and named this Who's Mess. Good Lord. Daltrey's the best part of the live act and spends more time shaking a tambourine than singing. Townsend - a brilliant songwriter and rhythm guitarist - is a mediocre soloist and singer but spends a lot of time here doing both. Entwistle and Moon sound like they're each playing just beyond their ability, and don't sound like they're listening to anyone, let alone each other. The clear takeaway from this listening experience is: Led Zeppelin was an amazing band.

Every track is built up from thousands of decisions. Great tracks sweep you up emotionally, to a floaty place where you lose all concept of the decision making. Some albums have one or two; five star albums are full of these tracks. This album never gets there. It sounds great. I can't criticize any of the individual decisions. But I'm constantly reminded of them. Just a series of clever decisions that never congeal into a great musical experience. Like XTC, or a lot of the Kinks music. I want to love it; but it just doesn't sweep me up.

Stevie Wonder has always been capable of such magic. But his lyrics tend towards sentimentality and he spends way too much time on easy-listening ballads and soft sounds. I love Innervisions despite these tendencies. Because when he brought the energy up and banged on his Clavinet, he produced music as great as anyone. This album, unfortunately, doubles down on the sentimentalism and easy listening. It's a few amazing moments in a sea of soft sounds. But it is Stevie Wonder, so 3 stars minimum.

They haven't quite figured the whole thing out yet, here. The pieces sound amazing though - such great guitar sounds and the drums are recorded impeccably. It's mind-blowing how much the musical decisions made on this record still reverberate. There must be thousands of kids who imitate this sound (via generations of metal heads) and have never actually heard of Black Sabbath.

Stunning. Channeling the attitude and power of Rock and Roll through a wholly novel harmonic conception - not new ways of using Bach's or Ellington's harmonies, but a modal exploration of a brand new harmonic universe, and Monk's equal in the ability to build structure and gorgeous melody out of layer upon layer of dissonance - to deliver songs that, somehow, are completely coherent. Makes almost everything else ever recorded sound cliche.

Quirky; at times fun, at times just kind of annoying. Two legit ear worms. Except for the bass, the recordings are strikingly flat and thin. Maybe trying to accommodate that vocal treatment; which may have seemed edgy and clever at the time, but just sounds weak and silly in retrospect. I don't mind listening to this album. But I had it on regular rotation for a bit when it came out and 22 or whatever years later, I haven't once thought, I really want to listen to that Franz Ferdinand album.

Dislike the culture that grew up around them and can't be in a room where their live music is playing. But when they focused on songs and leaned into their country/bluegrass roots they were undeniably great. This is an adorable collection of songs recorded beautifully; though the songs their fans most identify with - the hippy/dippy shuffle of Truckin' and Sugar Magnolia - are my least favorite. Afterthought: how in the world can four people who can barely hold a note create such sweet harmonies?

As with most Eagles albums, everything by Glenn Frey or Don Henley - which is most of the album - is extraordinary.

Masterful. Gorgeous. In terms of musicality, Paul Simon was far and away the most talented, creative, dedicated, and honest singer songwriter to come out of the 60s folk scene. It ain't even close. His lyrics are amazing; intimate, and - again - honest. Throw in his commitment to the recording process and we're given one of the finest collections of song from the 20th Century.

I find this wholly unmoving. Except for the "vocals"; which make me cringe. Stripping the beats and vocals (Evil is Eden) makes it better, but nowhere near good.

Neither enjoyable to listen to nor interesting to hear. The punk and post-punk sensibility can be such a liberating creative force. But it is too-often a convenient facade for the lazy and uninspired.

Another example of the schism of music fandom. If you're interested in lyrics maybe there's something here for you. The music is pleasant but BORing; two adjectives that I never associated with P.J. Harvey before listening to this. Boring music annoys me. I can read lyrics on a page. I don't need them to be delivered in sonic mediocrity.

1. These songs sound created for the purpose of delivering the lyrics. Songs created to serve as a vehicle for a narrative or lyrical theme, as opposed to those created first and foremost for their MUSICAL power and communication, frustrate me: Dylan, Carole King, Musicals, Opera. These songs almost always lack coherence and emotional integrity. They sound calculated and disjointed. I am drawn to music - harmony, melody, rhythm, instrumentation, performance. As a result, even when I TRY, I can't focus on lyrics until I am so familiar with the harmonic and song structures, arrangements, and performances that my mind can start to wander onto things it finds less magnetic. When the music is an afterthought, it is apparent, I grow frustrated, and I never process the lyrics. I literally just don't care; not because I'm willfully ignorant, but because my interests lie elsewhere. 2. It's a shame because Ray Davies is a masterful songwriter when he wants to be. This album is filled with great musical ideas. But, with the possible exception of Victoria, they are never developed. They sound tossed out to fit a lyrical phrase, haphazardly vis-a-vis all of the other musical ideas, and are left unexplored. 3. These lyrics are not very impressive. The concept is interesting and impressive. But Ray so often comes across as a person desperate to show off his wit. The problem is, I don't find him nearly as clever as he finds himself. 4. The end result is an album that presents like a mediocre novelty record in the spirit of, say, Monty Python. And quite frankly, Monty Python records are more enjoyable because those blokes were that clever.

Chad Smith is amazing. Flea is decent. They get two stars. Frusciante is technically accomplished. But he's one of the legion of guitar players who lack any musicality. He ends up sounding lost most of the time; like his brain - fingers and not his ears - heart are driving his contributions. Kiedis sounds developmentally disabled; regardless of whether he's singing, shouting, or doing that cringe-inducing rap thing. Lyrically, he's like a 13 year old trying to convince someone he's a man. And together it's so disjointed - just a total mess to these ears.

This moment when DJ/Producers had mastered the art of building collages out of samples and before a judge with no musical background tore the whole thing down with a trademark ruling produced such interesting music. And how B Real can make the abject celebration of violence sound so fun is a total mystery.

Miles said, "it takes a long time to figure out what you sound like." And generally that's true. So it's amazing to find acts that, while steeped in the conventions of their time, sounded unique right out of the gate. Beautifully recorded; cohesive band; unique sound; great songs. Yes, please!

The soundscape is rich and some of the musical ideas interesting, but this is an hour and a quarter of lifeless (literally) performances of self-indulgent "compositions." Listening to computers play programmed noise always leaves me feeling cold and empty.

Quarter toned melodies give me vertigo. And overall it drones; like trance music - just one idea pumped over and over and over.

Astonishing to think how much they produced and how far they came in the five years and eight months between the release of Meet the Beatles and Abbey Road.

I adore this record. It fills me with hope and joy. Forthright and utterly unpretentious, both musically and lyrically (which is extraordinary for a debut). Ear worms in abundance. Gorgeous and super interesting production.

Sounds like the product of a psychological experiment exploring whether the developmentally disabled possess the ability to reproduce music. Conclusion: they do not.

I’m neither shocked nor offended, which seems the point of the enterprise. So all that's left is the profound displeasure of the listening experience.

I’ve wanted to like Depeche Mode for decades. There’s a real gift for melody, and they occasionally write absolute gems (Personal Jesus). But the beauty is buried in these tiresome recordings. The backing tracks are lifeless and bland; like robo-musak built of cliched elements. And the vocals too often make me giggle with their sophomoric rhyming schemes and weird affectations that somehow manage to sound both hammy and unemotional.

Early on I elected to review albums subjectively - not as an impartial critic, but as a fan - based on how much I personally liked the music. But there are exceptions. I tire of the accordian-flute-mandolin sound and the sea shanty / pub jig style. But the creative audacity, the commitment by the lot of ‘em to their sound, and the honesty of this album make it undeniably great; regardless of how often I may want to listen to it.

HERESY ALERT!! I actually like everything about this album except Santana’s guitar playing (well, ok, almost everything - Mother’s Daughter sounds like a parody). Love the latin fusion grooves. The B3 player is amazing. But then everything breaks down so Santana can take the stage - Ron Burgundy style - and widdly, widdly, widdly, waaaaaaayyyyyyyyiiiiiiii, widdly, widdly, widdly, waaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyiiiiiiiii. His playing is hammy and pretentious, he rushes into phrasings, and often sounds like he’s playing just beyond his technical ability so that his phrasing often breaks as his fingers pinch a fret. For me, so many great vibes on this album are just killed by his guitar breaks.

The Young brothers are great. I know people like Phil Rudd's solidity; but to me he's plodding, leaving me feeling like, "this band would be great if they weren't on Quaaludes." And there isn't a lot of range in the songwriting/arranging. It's pretty much nine variations of the same song. When they dial it in (Back in Black / You Shook Me) it's fantastic, but I'm bored well before we get there, and bored again when the high point is over.

I love this moment in synth pop. Alas, it was so short. The rich, lush analogue synth sounds were soon trampled by the tin can FM sounds of Yamaha and Roland and the performances were turned over to robots through the use of sequencers. But for a brief moment, it was gorgeous. This album captures that moment perfectly.

One of my favorite albums. The brilliant musicality of Edward, perfectly supported by Alex' deft feel, and balanced - like acid on fat - by the utterly unpretentious circus performances of David Lee Roth. (Watch his early 80s interviews on YouTube.) A band that makes no sense on paper - perfect right out of the gate.

The mysteries of music. One of my favorite artists. Red Headed Stranger is one of my top favorite albums. This though, no matter how often I listen to it, just sounds like easy listening and it drives me mad.

Good Lord this is bad. Such a beautiful voice. Way back when she was singing her grief at losing Graham she had some interesting ideas. But her musical instincts are utterly banal.

Mind blowing. My fourth favorite Zeppelin album. Mind blowing. “No one ever compared us to Black Sabbath after this record.” JP

The Curse of the Microprocessor What I would give to hear the isolated vocal busses of these recordings. They would be amazing. Such a beautiful expressive voice, possessed by a woman of such confidence, projecting this huge emotional range, all lost in this morass of tinny DX-7 and LinnDrum sounds driven by lifeless sequencers. Microprocessors made the recording process significantly simpler for producers. But hear what a waste that laziness made of a collection of beautiful songs. Now forever lost, tragically, in a sea of objectively unpleasant sounds.

Like musical theater, Carol King, or Bob Dylan, these songs clearly started with lyrics and had melody and musical structure built up, almost as an afterthought, to deliver them. The problem is these lyrics are neither clever, interesting, nor witty. This poor guy developed one hell of an inferiority complex at prep school. He’s just too simple and conceited to say anything interesting about it.

An album of incredible songs, built up from retro parts but possessing a sound that was unique and urgent and still sounds fresh and important 20 years on. Lyrics that were at first titillating have become poignant in the context of her artist - celebrity - dead star arc. She was such a true musician. The greed that flew in around her talent has robbed us of so much.

Thank God for ZZ Top. I have to save five stars for their album Rio Grande (which better be in here somewhere).

Cold; mechanical; alienartinng

Why does God let bad things happen to good people? Why do dogs’ paws smell like corn chips when they sleep? Why does this music make me so damn happy?

I think you can make a case for this being among the greatest punk albums of all time - if you define punk by spirit (urgency, honesty, community) rather than sound (overdriven guitars, three chords, machine gun bass drum, etc.) The Edge is starting to really deliver on the promise he started making with the opening of I Will Follow. And Bono … as kids we would’ve followed him into battle, but he was insisting that we find love. Like Prince, these guys have had so many chapters that everyone can fairly defend their favorite. Mine is their next studio album - The Unforgettable Fire. For me thats when the sound matures but the urgency and emotion are still driving the project.

The album that reveals what a pompous ass Sting really is. I like every Police album a little bit less than the one before. The magic of the Police was Sting’s incredible gift for melody, tied to Stewart Copeland’s technically-magnificent-chaotic-urgency, sprinkled with Andy Summer’s wonderful atmospherics. But by this album, Sting’s insecurity had sidelined Copeland and we’re left with this collection of radio-friendly confections masquerading as high-art. It’s nauseating. Nothing reveals the disconnect between Sting’s opinion of himself and the reality like Every Breath - guy sets out to write a song about a stalker but makes the recording so pretty that it became one of the best-selling love songs of all time. This album is also a perfect demonstration of the horrid impact of solid-state technology. The performances on Synchronicity II should make the track an absolute rocker. But, like the rest of the album, from this perspective it just sounds flat and tinny. Ugh.

I don’t get it. I wish I did. He seems like a kind, genuine, interesting guy. And he’s got some interesting musical ideas. I appreciate that he hasn’t found his vocal fry yet. I giggled at realizing that the song called It Won’t Be Long would, in fact, be. By the second guitar break in Down By the River I was no longer pleased. Why do Crazy Horse always sound like a group of 15 year olds who’ve been playing for a year? I’m a devotee of the punk rock ethos - emotional expression beats gratuitous technical demonstration every time. But this “unaccomplished" sound is so cultivated that it comes across every bit as pretentious as, say, Emerson Lake & Palmer. I’m not a fan of jam bands. But while listening to the masturbation of EL&P or the Winter brothers is difficult, at least you have the "but what they’re doing is really impressive.” Listening to this messy masturbation is just plain difficult. The punks don’t force us to sit through extended jams.

nope

I weep thinking about the artists who were left off of the list so that we could have a second 80’s-pop-disasterpiece from Kate Bush. The only enjoyable part for me was imagining all of the bad frizzy permed past the shoulder mullets in the studio. Ignoring the pop-du-jour production cliches here, her style of songwriting, like Carol Kings, just doesn’t do it for me. Melody and harmonic progression is an afterthought: write the poems, vocalize emotively, rinse, repeat.

For four solid decades I've been expected to love this music. It's fine. A few great hooks. But so much pretentious silliness. And that Continental Vox. C'mon Ray; there's a reason no one else made it a staple of their sound.

Almost inevitably, musical artists will jump the shark at some point by releasing an album devoid of their former artistry. Mark Knopfler, ever the innovator, didn't wait; he jumped the shark - cleared it by a mile - half way through side A. On a side note, what a mistake going digital was. The DX-7s, Roland Jazz Chorus amps, digital channel strips, solid state compression ... I would say that the sound aged poorly; But, quite frankly, it sounded just as silly when it was fresh.

A mildly interesting sound. The formula starts to get depressing around song 4. By the end I didn't want to hear anything by the Fall ever again. Which is too bad, because their earlier stuff was at least relevant.

It plays like a random assortment of film scores. Lush, beautiful sounds meant to be heard but not listened to; presented with no (musical) coherence. This is of a piece with Easy Listening, Musak, New Age, etc. Only it's worse because now we program computers to perform the parts. The only things I feel from this are boredom and frustration.

A great collection of songs. But another example of the tragedy of the Nashville Machine's insistence on a slavish adherence to THE formula. Loretta needed a Honky Tonk band; loose and shambolic around the edges. She was never going to compete with Patsy as a pop crossover. But that was the formula. At least they didn't give her strings.

I am in awe of Otis Redding. I love the Stax/Volt sound. (The story of Stax - Otis occupying a major chapter - is incredible; search it out.) But this album doesn’t present as a coherent work. It plays like a collection of tracks. Three of them on Side A belong in the conversation of best-songs-ever-written, but the track order is odd; the “set list” doesn’t flow. And Side B is just a collection of toss away covers.

In the opening track Bob accidentally reveals the fraud, that a lot of us suspect, by actually writing an interesting SONG and then actually singing its melody without his (trademark, wholly unmusical, and irritating) bends, glissandos, and habit of abandoning the last note of a phrase. And he almost suggests that musicality might actually matter on this record by following that up with She Belongs to Me. But thereafter, he retreats into his fortress of I’m a Poet Who Wants to be Paid as a Songwriter habits. And, as a person who cares about music and is indifferent to song lyrics (brilliant language can stand on its own in print) it makes me disdain him even more. Perfect example of the root of my frustration - the two melodies in Mr. Tamborine Man are off the charts brilliant. But the beauty is suffocated by the need for a seventh fucking verse. (Don’t give me that four verse nonsense. He just realized that putting choruses between all seven was probably too audacious for even him.) Thank God for the Byrds.

American Pie is extraordinary. But please, it’s legendary because it's a fantastic recording of a GREAT SONG, and in spite of, rather than due to, its lyrics - 8.5 minutes of Boomer handwringing over a collective loss of innocence. Good Grief. After that, I just hear a lot of mediocre Northeastern folk splooge serving as a vehicle for over-earnest poems about Don McLean’s favorite historical figures. It’s like he wanted to make children’s music for high school students. “We’ll make it joyful and uplifting and they can learn important lessons from me along the way!” Still, American Pie is extraordinary.

Randy Newman and I apparently listen to a lot of the same music. But I don’t expect he wants to listen to me play and sing. I definitely don’t want to listen to him. It’s like watered-down gumbo. Why you gonna eat that mild soup when so many others cookin’ so hot?

Wake me up when they release Help! Putting aside academic interests (historical significance, etc.) and focusing on it as a collection of recordings, it’s pretty forgettable; All My Loving excepted.

I listen to this, I think, “OK, Lloyd, you can now go out and accomplish pretty much anything you want to.” Decades and hundreds of listens later, I’m no closer to understanding it. But I still LOVE it!

Yet another of this list's mediocre albums by a once-brilliant artist. But using drum machines and synths on a ZZ Top album was, and remains, pure sacrilege. I’m glad Frank went into rehab. I’m glad Billy made a bunch of hits and the money they all deserved. But as far as albums you need to hear? This is WAAY down on the list of ZZ Top albums you need to hear. Go, right now, and listen to Rio Grande Mud. 350 albums in, my sublist now includes David Bowie (Young Americans), Metallica (S&M), U2 (Achtung Baby), Bruce Springsteen, the Cure, the Black Keys, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, Paul Simon, Prince, Miles Davis, and the Go-Betweens. Given the GREAT music that those acts are responsible for, It's remarkable how many that this list .

Love the music. Unfortunately, I can’t take that voice. Something about it bores into me and makes me feel physically ill. It’s a shame.

I find it so funny that the cliched sound in this scene involved such HUGE guitar sounds but such wet-cardboard drum sounds. And the demon-affectation of those vocals are not something I want or need to hear. Guitars + 4 stars Drums - 1 star Vocals - 2 stars

Listening to computers make music leaves me feeling less human. These vocals make me embarrassed to be human. 250 years ago they had Mozart. We have Hot Chip.

Everything you encounter is so lush; amazing sounds, masterful recordings, and that plate reverb softening and blending it all; tracks crafted so meticulously into this luxurious whole; delivered with perfect calm and patience. It rambles and it wanders and it gets lost and found and in the end its just this indulgent sonic experience that never gets old.

HERESY ALERT! I would like this album quite a bit better without the vocals. I get that she sings of important subjects. Fine. But her lyrics are neither poetic nor narrative, just literal and expository. Being earnest isn’t enough. I can ignore lyrics, and usually do. The main problem is that voice. A lot of ladies with gorgeous voices were singing important songs at this moment. (Abbey Lincoln comes to mind.) Nina's voice is such a mess; she sounds like a Muppet. She’s really pitchy and it doesn’t sound musical to me. Her phrasing is affected and distracting. Her “vibrato” is tremorous; I can’t stop thinking that she has palsy. And, like Barry Gibb (or Kermit the Frog) she never incorporates any chest into her voice - it goes from thin/reedy to brassy, but it's always pinched.

As we sponsor those who turn the artistic process over to the machines we, collectively, become less and less human. What exactly are we celebrating here? No human performance. Are we celebrating these two's ability to program computers to generate tones? AI can now do that, too. That people have become so desensitized to the difference between human music and robotic sound is tragic. Computers make it all so much easier. No one needs to hone their skills practicing instruments, or playing in school gyms or small local clubs, or listening to other musicians - whether to imitate and learn, or to learn to play within a group. Just sit in the basement and program your Mac. Look at the musicians throughout history. It took years, if not decades, of playing night after night after night to figure out what they sounded like; to bring new forms of beauty into the world. But the clubs where young people could do that are now gone; lost in a vicious cycle driven by our listening choices. What human element is, then, left in the process? In the very near future, the owners of the channels of distribution - Apple, Google (YouTube), and Spotify - will be the only human beings benefitting from the consumption of sonic entertainment. They’ll just program their machines to make it all. We’re almost there already.

A lot of care and creativity went into these tracks. I love Brian Eno's solo work. I respect David Byrne very much. Unfortunately, Byrne's music makes me feel anxious. Like the Talking Heads, this album leaves me feeling like I've had one too many cups of coffee. Regiment is a perfect example. That groove is so sweet. I was literally adding it to a playlist when that vocal came in. Quarter-tone music gives me vertigo for some reason. Unbelievable.

I get nothing from this collection of tracks. Simple modal explorations on shitty late-80s sounding guitars. Overall it isn’t unpleasant. But I have no clue why I needed to hear it.

Never criticize your own cooking at the table. Your guests may love it. Story I read is that Brubeck, having come up with the idea of doing an entire album of songs in odd meters, told the band to go write a song in 5/4. They got back together and ... nothing; shoe gazing. Brubeck said, "c'mon someone must have done something over the last weeks." Paul Desmond (sax) offered that he had two melodies, but they weren't very good, and he couldn't do anything with them. Those two melodies became Take Five, one of the most popular songs in jazz history. I love this album. Sure, they aren't the most sophisticated jazz artists. But Brubeck's incorporation of French Impressionism stylings, Desmond's tone, and the abundance of melodic ideas make them a constant pleasure to listen to. One of my favorite parts of the album is the ROOM. The plate reverb on Dark Side of the Moon is gorgeous. But I think the natural reverb of this studio, which the engineers captured brilliantly on these tracks, is about the best ever recorded. The golden aura it creates around Desmond's sax is, well, it's just to die for.

I'm not a die-hard fan, but I will listen to anything between Born to Run and Born in the USA. The bookends on this album are two of the most extraordinary songs ever written. And the decision to just release the demos was brilliant. Can't give it a five because the stretch from Highway Patrolman to My Father's House gets tiring. But I'll listen to this album from time to time until the day I die.

They accomplished that rarest of artistic feats - they took the musical conventions of the day and created something wholly original, with no hint of commercial cynicism; just this genuine artistic expression from some very unique and interesting blokes. That they did it in their first attempt is extraordinary. Interstellar Overdrive is just so over the top, WTF, magnificent. The really surprising thing about this album, for me, to this day, is how many ear worms there are hidden in its very-non-poppy songs. The riff to Lucifer Sam is about the stickiest hook ever, and weeks later I'll suddenly hear, in the back of my head, "I want to tell you a story, 'bout a little man ..."

Crack musicianship and gorgeous production quality. These guys were clearly fans of Chic, Earth Wind & Fire, etc. and, like those acts, the songs here come across as excuses for the grooves, rather than the point. So it ends up feeling like 15 variations on a theme. It is, though, a super fun theme played and recorded very well.

I am a huge fan of the sounds created in L.A. studios in the early - mid 70s. IMO the backing tracks on this album are as good as that sound ever got - the performances are amazing and they are captured pristinely with equipment that today computer programmers try desperately to emulate. But I get why it flopped. The tunes are forgettable. The lyrics consistently melt into cheese. And Gene's vocals are exposed by the masterful backing tracks. HIs voice is fine - don't get me wrong. But I'm afraid that these tracks sound SO great that any vocal shy of the quality of, say, Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett, would sound amateurish. That said, he was a notoriously good guy, and it's really sad to reflect on how hard he took the public's indifference to this genuinely interesting album.

Knopfler is an extraordinary guitar player but a negligent vocalist. Iommi, Page, and Van Halen never understood why they needed a lead singer - but they all accepted it. Great guitar players can be excellent frontmen - Billy Gibbons, Dan Auerbach and even Hendrix come to mind. But they have to CARE about the singing, and even more importantly, the harmonic and melodic structures of their songs. That’s what’s missing here. Knopfler’s voice is what a sneer sounds like. He affects this Dylanesque indifference or even disdain for melody and intonation. But even more, like so many lead guitar players, he doesn’t seem to care about theme and melodic/harmonic structure. So we’re left with this rambling unfocused mess. Until Sultans of Swing. Somehow that track is absolutely incredible. And the vibe is decent. But if I want a dose of stripped-down bluesy bar band, I’m reaching for early ZZ Top every time.

Overall a frustrating experience. Tiny Dancer is absolutely brilliant. I’ve listened to it for fifty years and it still gives me goosebumps. Levon and Razor Face have some interesting passages. But the rest of the album is, musically, utterly forgettable. I blame Bernie. When his lyrics are personal, they work and these seem to be the germs for Elton's great pop songs. There are tragically few of these here. Bernie’s narratives - which fill most of this album - are pretentious and overly sentimental and tend to motivate, in Elton, unfocused, forgettable tunes which leaves the listener nothing much to focus on except the schmaltzy lyrics, until he wonders, how did these guys create something as brilliant as Tiny Dancer?? And when Bernie goes political … Good Lord … it makes me wish the reels had fallen off of the Tascam.

David Lee Roth, with a wink and a tickle, taught us that metal is a hell of a lot better when not taken completely seriously. (Looking back, I suspect Ozzy tried to teach the same thing but he was so perfectly ironic about it that the lesson flew by unnoticed.) The Hawkins absolutely perfected the sentiment on this album. As a *serious* music lover, I would love to hate this. But it’s just too damned perfect in everything it tries to do and WAY too much fun.

I was 21 when it came out and must have listened to it a thousand times over the next few years. Listening back, the creativity in so smoothly blending so many styles remains mind-boggling. But it isn’t an album that I melt into the way I used to; the way I do with so many other albums I’ve fallen in love with over the last 50 years. Come Together remains extraordinary. But otherwise, I find myself analyzing rather than swooning. Music is funny.