It's the sort of album that reveals more with every listen. An album with a consistently shimmering feel that conveys a sense of nostalgia, without losing sight of its strong pop melodies. It flits from film noir to lo-fi pop, and whilst the latter category sometimes ends up feeling like a demo, overall you're left with a very pleasing album with some soaring highlights.

There's a passage in Part II b) at around 7 minutes which is nothing short of sublime - he produces a sound like a cello is accompanying him. His phrasings, his legato playing on the bass notes, his use of the sustain pedal all combining to give a fantastically controlled resonance. I don't know what a purist would think of the crescendo in Part II b) when there are clearly hints of off-notes in his excitement - you do hear the thinness of the treble notes here which makes it all the more impressive he manages to draw attention away from it for most of the concert (or 'gig'). In truth I feel this is a four, but with every listen it grows. Highly proficient but highly expressive which is the real genius. Impossible to understand in a short period of time l, and I can say confidently this will continue to appreciate every time I hear it. Like a fine wine really. Hence on behalf of my future self, I award it top marks.

'Can't Buy a Thrill' I liked a lot, and Pretzel Logic not so much - so as a band I am undecided where I stand on this bunch of Proto-prog/Dad-rock specialists. At 40 minutes long and a collection of eight songs, this album is edited perfectly; makes you forget your listening to a style that is teetering on a tightrope - falling into bland MoR jazz inspired pop one way; and prog rock guitar wankery the other. But tread the tightrope they have, and they have done so perfectly. The melodies continue to shine out over any prog-rock leanings; 'Razor Boy' leans heavily to Pretzel's MoR, but the melody saves it; 'Show Biz Kids' is like a funky retake of Nilson's 'Coconut'; 'My Old School' an effortless Eagles-esque breezy tune; 'Pearl of the Quarter' a Harrison-esque slide-guitar-propelled ballad. 'King of the World', like 'Boston Rag', has all the perfect melodies of CSNY, some Pink Floyd synth thrown in and fantastic Niles Rodgers funk-riffing.

It's Brand New Heavies, it's D'Angelo, it's slow mo videos of sexy ladies in satin walking through rustic swinging doors into a dimly lit room with candles and a freestanding bath, it's cadburys flake, it's a glass of pinot on a Sunday night. It's souless, advert music. I will never - never - intentionally listen to this insipid lounge music again.

I surprised myself by giving Paranoid top marks. Black Sabbath are a great find I.e. I obvs had heard them but hadn't listened. They blow away subsequent 'heavy' rock, thrash rock/doom rock/torture rock/pain rock/injury rock, out to the furthest fucking reaches of the universe. First half powerful - second half loses structure and its way. That all comes together in the next album.

Grows with age like a fine wine. Suffers when compared to Nevermind - not comparable so don't do it. Couple of fillers.

Awesome album. Problem is, you judge Elton by Elton. So some filler here by Elton's standards. Some White Album syndrome too - if you could cull 20% of the tracks it's the perfect album. 4 stars.

An album of two halves. Or to be more efficient with my language, an album of halves. Bland big-band, saved in the second half by elegant orchestral balladeering.

Overall, a consistently soulful feel, a relaxed flow, great use of samples, anthemic tunes. A few distractions with the like if Takeover and Renegade (which are good but feel a little out of place here). This gets a fourizzle.

Think I've got something of a new found understanding of metal. I also understand that most of it is shit. But will this be different? No. (sic) sounds like an amphetamine-induced rampage, and as an opener it works pretty well. Can really imagine being in the mosh in the Des Moines metalfest, and punching a stinking teenager in the mouth with this one. Decent stuff. They aren't Pantera. They aren't Napalm Death. Thankfully. A scattering of interesting stuff here and there. But mainly feel like this pushes absolutely no boundaries and offers no memorable tunes.

You can sense from this why Elvis was such a success, interpreting rock n roll, country, blues, ballads, throwing them all in the pot and cooking up a very tasty Mississippi gumbo, with only a couple of bland ingredients. Easy four.

I'm really in two minds about this album. I find some of it, like Life in the Fast Lane or Victim of Love, gets too lost up its soft rock fundament and actually sounds very 80's ZZ Top-rock. Elsewhere they seem to be actively chasing the anthem - such as Wasted Time reprise which is Disney levels of trying to be meaningful. Aside from that it is consistently excellent. Title track, the country style licks harking back to previous albums, such as New Kid or Try and Love Again.

The Spector formula for Christmas really is faultless. Is there any other Christmas album that is bearable in such a fashion? I may put the recent Dylan one up there. And Chas n Dave's cockney Christmas. But nothing else comes close. And I haven't even mentioned the incredible vocals of Ronnie Spector, Darlene Love et al - incredible. It's hammy, It's over the top, and it sounds like Christmas. Great.

Overall, this keeps growing on me. The wall of noise, amorphous schtick works for the most part, as it's backed up with catchy hooks and melodies, which admittedly take repeated listens to find. I really like several of the tunes, particularly the first track, and this is better than Dirty. Just clears the hurdle for a four.

Several certified bangers in here. Many more which are above average to great. It melds New Wave, disco, 50s rock n roll, to create a definitive late 70s post-punk album.

This album has a lot of making up to do after that album cover. The first question to Mr Cave may well be 'who hurt you?'. Such is the industrial bleakness of the music and lyrics, it could be the dystopian soundtrack to the contemporaneous Mad Max. The album is the seeds of The Seeds. But much more refinement was to take place after this. Few Seeds-worthy songs such as Junkyard, 6" Gold Blade and Several Sins.

The soaring Living for the City and the towering Higher Ground, and in amongst that some fantastic album tracks (e.g. Golden Lady), culminating in the incredible He's Misstra Know-It-All. Probably my favourite Stevie album.

The production sounds great compared to many contemporaneous efforts - reverbed, Everly's-style harmonies, nicely mixed. It's the sound of the Western plains, and it is more Western than Country. Overall, I thought this a great embodiment of this tradition, interesting, excellently produced, and with some great originals, and excellent playing and harmonies.

This reminds me of introspective emos at school wearing hyper-baggy jeans with chains, who listened to bands like Coheed and Cambria and wallowed in their faux pain. Their only real pain at that time being they'd forgotten to do their homework for Further Maths and Mrs Cole was in a particularly foul mood so they were worried they'd get detention. It's bland, it's less ground-breaking than a plastic hammer, and the rapping/scratching is bad. It has 2 songs which I consider passable, one of which, In the End, is decent.

The sort of album that you look back on affectionately because the songs are associated with an 80s movie you really like. Except, here there is no movie. And the album is left floundering in the sea of forgettable could-have-been-soundtracks. Basically this needed to be a soundtrack to make it better. But While You See a Chance is superb. And there's some decent passages here and there.

On balance I think it's important, influential, innovative, and a word that begins with 'i' meaning powerful political messaging. It lacks Run DMC and NWA hooks.

For a sad day, a lonely train journey, a break-up, when you find out your newborn is ginger, this is quite the soundtrack, albeit highly formulaic. The formula features heavily reverbed guitar picking out a melody and downbeat delivery. The vocal duets work excellently. It's actually rather surprising how many of these tracks have seeped into my consciousness, without going out of my way to listen to them or ever to listen to this album. Maybe because the BBC has probably used every one of these for advertising various bleak dramas over the years, probably written by Jimmy McGovern. The album does dip as it goes on, never quite matches the opening run of 4 or 5 songs.

It's a great fusion of many style but delivered via angular rock with incredible alternative guitar. Tom Verlaine is my new favourite guitarist. And this my new favourite album. For today.

Some very nice tracks here indeed, mainly the first half of the album, after which my patience runs out a little with the lack of variety, and the surplus of introspection without catharsis or humour. It's a respectable three.

As a debut album it's impressive. No doubt the legend has helped its critical standing - but listening with critical distance I think it's a great album, full of atmosphere, emotion, great harmonies and Radiohead-influencing melodies. Self-indulgent here and there but hey, who doesn't like to indulge. I know I do.

Despite the album being languorous, indulgent, bloated, there is such a commitment to it - something completely imperious about this album. I don't think it has the warmth of Dark Side - it feels a lot more clinical. But there is an ambience to be enjoyed, and you can cast aside the pretension of a song in 9 parts. An album which conjures a mood and does it really well. And included one of the greatest tracks of all time, in the title track. It's so close, but it gets to a high four.

They're cool, they're breezy, they're VH1's dream. Nit just your typical 80s new wave rock, meld quite a few influences from jangle pop, new wave, afrobeat, blue-eyed soul. I very much enjoyed it without being blown away. The highest of threes.

They have the electronic dance rock feel of Metronomy or Foals, and when done well I like this genre. Wild Beasts also add a lot of slower ambience to their tracks, sort of Eno meets Metronomy. It adds another element to this band which means they are not just another post-Britpop outfit with decent tunes (a la Courteeners or some such). An interesting album with some decent tunes.

Rarely do the songs let that great voice fly - instead it's replaced with a sort of club singer inflection and hackneyed big band parping. Even the ballad here 'We'll Be Together Again', seems very pedestrian by comparison to something like 'I Get Along Without You Very Well' from Wee Small Hours. And the recording on Small Hours was excellent - Frank was singing next to your ear - this often feels a bit lost in the big band mêlée.

They were very exciting back in the mid 90s I recall. Maybe their direct punk-pop was a breath of fresh air to the death note of prog-rock-derived 90s grunge and introspective whinge-rock. This generally feels more joyful. But they strike me as a singles band, not sure they've released a solid album, if they have I haven't heard it yet. There are some bangers here, it's balanced out by the Busted and McFly influencing cheap power pop. Mid-three.

The album is nothing short of a soft-rock masterpiece. It doesn't have any of the raw emotion of Lennon or Harrison's early efforts; it's altogether more polished Macca - it's the nicest cup of cocoa you've ever had, and sometimes you get a surprise marshmallow. As demonstrated by the unapologetically saccharine Bluebird or the non-offensive Mamunia. Then you get Vandebilt, title track, Let Me Roll It, Jet and one of Macca's mightiest tracks in Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five; finishing (after a fantastic synth + jazz clarinet crescendo) with that great 'Hard Day's Night'-type chord en route to a Band on the Run reprise. It feels like a winding and expansive album, yet all comes in at 40 minutes. One of the few albums that feels longer than it actually is (there is so much packed in), but you don't want it to end. And a handful of out and out bangers. Top marks.

An album that feels two-thousand light years ahead of anything they did before. Aside from a reasonably successful foray into disco, this is what they do best. As the first album in the classic run, there is still a lot of looseness, swampiness, less polish here, which only works to make the album sound more authentic. The fact they are finding their classic sound here is titillating. Keef's guitar work, focusing mainly on acoustic with no/little drumming, is superb. He's found his open G tuning. This is classic Stones kicking off proper. Throw in two epic bangers, Sympathy and Streetfighting, and you got yourself a five.

With a roll call of The Eagles, Jim Keltner etc, and a knack for a humorous narrative this could be fantastic - but in retrospect he really is quite the one-trick pony. The slower numbers work best. A high two.

It's Brand New Heavies, it's D'Angelo, it's slow mo videos of sexy ladies in satin walking through rustic swinging doors into a dimly lit room with candles and a freestanding bath, it's cadburys flake, it's a glass of pinot on a Sunday night. It's souless, advert music. I will never - never - intentionally listen to this insipid lounge music again.

Meat and potatoes blues rock. Formulaic bar-rock. But it's compact and doesn't outstay it's welcome. It's real downfall is that last two tracks which are dull and go nowhere. A great shame for an album that is hitherto wall-to-wall groove, very lean, and enjoyable. I much prefer it to Eliminator but it still doesn't get a four - a very strong and respectable high three.

I've listened to this a few times and I'm not sure how good it is. He is a tragic figure really, and I know his view have been less than wholesome but, benefit of the doubt, he'd forgotten to take his meds. He did help move rap on from the ostensible inexorable bling movement, and probably paved the way for the likes of Kendrick Lamar. For that, and for some good tunes in here it's a three.

I can understand that right place, right time, they were exciting back in the day; but hardly pioneering over what the Stooges or Bowie or Bolan was doing - and everything they've done has been superseded and done many times better. They remind me more of Kiss than a glam or punk I outfit I like. Are a couple of great songs though, Personality Crisis, Trash, Frankenstein, Private World. Makes it to a three, just about.

Both the desolation and the uplifting beauty of the Icelandic landscape. There are points in Mouth Mantra where the enveloping strings (with all the foreboding of Prokofiev) and scattered beats make you feel like your swooping over it. Stonemilker is the most glorious and sorrowful song I have heard in many a year. I like that the album makes use of the viola organista, constructed to Da Vinci's design. That's rather fitting, given the album has all the enigma and chiaroscuro of one of the great man's paintings. All this beautiful music she's made, and she'll still be remembered for slapping that Thai reporter in the gob after a long plane journey. But, albums like this are rare indeed. It's immersive, challenging, painful, beautiful. One of those albums you can constantly relisten to and get something new each time. I think I've pseud's cornered my way into a five.

Goldrush, Harvest, One the Beach, Tonight's the Night. What a run; and in the words of the now disgraced portly pervert Andy Gray: "He had no right to do that. Take a boo son!". The real heart of the album are the triptych of lonely-man-on-the-road folk numbers. 'See the Sky' one of those effortless, bittersweet songs that can get you in the feels, especially the whole feeling of the lap steel and 'rolling down the track again'. Motion Pictures not far behind, again effortlessly melancholy. Finishing with the epic, Bert Jansch inspired fingerpicking of Ambulance Blues, one of his epics, packed with perfect lines (the riverboat was rocking in the rain), great fingerpicking and not a care for fret buzz. The perfect follow up to Harvest. Avoiding any doubt he could be pigeonholed.

On the face of it, a debut album of British reggae, by a few 20 year olds, recorded on rudimentary equipment in an amateur's flat in Birmingham, with 80s social commentary, should _not_ work. But nor should ackee and codfish, but by Jah it does. The UB40 I know is a bit of a light, commercial cover band, with hyper 80s production. It's good to discover they cut their teeth on a genuine album of originals, with some incisive social satire and authentic dub (a few throwaway tracks notwithstanding). Excellent.

Against some odds, I ended up enjoying this, on account no doubt of the stripped back arrangements of the majority of the tracks. A gospel feel pervades, and scathing or humorous lyrics take things up another notch. There is still some of the Broadway schmaltzy arrangements, but this just tips to a four for some superb tracks, not least the title track.

Neil Young at the absolute peak of his acoustic country-folk period (he'd have many more peaks) where he couldn't write a bad song, except maybe There's a World. It's ingrained in my psyche; it reminds me of a fond period in life. What else do you want from an album?

I found this to be a reasonably enjoyable jazz album, and eminently more enjoyable than the other big band albums we've had hitherto, such as Count Basie. I also like that the audience gets more vocal as it goes along, responding to the band's sporadic ejaculations. It's a very good live performance. I don't know what, if any, boundaries are being pushed, except for that clarinet player's temporal veins at the end of Diminuendo when it sounds like he's gonna pop a lobe. It suffers from the fact I've discovered Kind of Blue which, I think I'm beginning to understand, is a very different jazz to this - but nevertheless that is so good, that this pales a bit in comparison. In saying that, Duke was a massive inspiration to Miles Davis, and there are nuances in this performance which provide a hell of a lot more than vanilla big band swing. So overall I think it is in the three range and maybe pushing a high three.

A lot of the album, puts me in mind of Bond. As well as the lush strings, and reverbed vocals, there are dramatic semitone movements everywhere. 'Lovely Head' in particular is a zombie-cowboy apocalyptic track of excellence. After a good opening run the pace slows down to a drag, with the painful Deer Stop, a third-rate Portishead rip off. Then a couple that go a bit too cabaret for my liking. The second half highlight is undoubtedly Utopia. Absolutely spellbinding mash up of 50s pop, Barry orchestral manoeuvres, Lynchian bleakness, and indie rock. On balance a high three. ⭐⭐⭐

Classic country soul pop Spector sound. Knowingly schmaltzy ballads. Some throwaway or overly derivative, some lost classics (Only You Know). Very difficult to rate - but I'm going high three.

American Girl has basically set the blueprint for every Strokes song, 25 years before the Strokes wrote a song; as well as the intro being lifted wholesale for Last Nite. It's probably the only real classic here. But punchable face on the cover aside, this album has the hallmarks of everything I like: compact, polished garage-rock, still a rawness, catchy melodies, no guitar wankery. It is very naive but charming. It has a few throwaways (Fooled Again, Anything That's Rock n Roll) Hmmm. Scrapes a 4 for it's ramshackle charm, naïveté, and lack of pretension, alongside a handful of good tracks.

The album could feasibly be a collection of unreleased home demos. But somehow - through the strength of the melodies, and a lovely dose of humour and eccentricity - it has the charm of something like the Beatles Anthologies. The homemade solitary feel is like Bert's Jansch first album. Dare I say even early Dylan, albeit Devendra's lyrics area more early Bolan than Dylan. And Devendra Banhart is pretty much a carbon-copy of Tyrannosaurus Rex-era Marc Bolan. Warbling vocals against a folky backdrop of abstract and pastoral lyrics. And yet the man protests he had never heard early Bolan before recording! Lots of charm, it continues to grow on me with every listen.

I have a liking for the dystopian feel of Depeche Mode's dark-brand of 80s electronica, without being a fully-fledged fan. Behind the Wheel - it's the Crystal Maze! I actually can't listen to this without hearing "start the fans please!" and thinking of over-excited contestants running in shell suits to the Aztec Zone. This one in particular feels like a warm up for Enjoy the Silence. It's a very solid album, and the first half evocatively foreboding with catchy melodies. 'Things You Said' is superb. That is some Smiths level of greatness. But the second half tails off into little of note. It can smell a four. But I think it remains a strong three.

Every song is peppered with great riffs and licks. The songs are forever moving into different catchy phrases, vocal and musical, punk, funk, disco, new-wave. And the tempo is pumping throughout. Eno was fresh out of Low - there is none of that Berlin-brooding here, but he gives it a driving consistency. Perversely, the single 'Take Me to the River' is the weak spot for me, and doesn't replace the majesty of Al Green's version with anything much interesting. But this album is easily a five so can afford a small trip up. Superb.

Overall, I do find the hard-rock tropes are mitigated by some really soulful guitar playing and effective riffs, which elevate this above the likes of the one-trick ponies Motorhead, or the soft-rock of Iron Maiden and co. 'Maybe I'm a Leo' a good example - dull power-chords but into a pretty solid Cream-type blues rock riff. And so it is with 'Pictures of Home' and 'Never Before'. The 'Smoke' riff is a classic for any guitarist - mainly because it's easy to play. It feels stately in its slower tempo. The song doesn't get lost to tiresome ubiquity - the narrative about the Montreux casino burning down, alongside the vivid lyrical imagery and cool band references, is involving and evocative. Rightly a classic. I thought it a very solid album with some nice touches.

I don't like the overt Beatles/60s pastiches e.g. '...And in Every Home' with its use of smugly gleeful horns, straight out of the era of dated Sgt Pepper psychedelia. It reminds me a bit of Macca's string-laden reworking of Beatles classics, in his pompous vanity project, 'Give My Regards to Broad Street'. there's rarely a bad melody to be found here. The meandering 'Man Out of Time' is one of the standouts. 'Pidgin English' is immediately catchy, although almost sunk by more horns and Bee Gees impressions. 'You Little Fool' another decent pop number with the quick chord progressions heard in Pidgin English, Little Savage (and previously used so well in Oliver's Army). I particularly enjoyed the lounge-pop numbers - 'The Long Honeymoon', 'Boy With a Problem', 'Kid About It' and 'Almost Blue', despite the latter's similarity to the superior 'Shipbuilding'. There are others (Human Hands, The Loved Ones) which are ok but feel like a product of the Costello sausage machine. It's a 3/4 borderline case, because it's interesting I'll tip it.

The album soon gets into its rhythm with the mammoth sound of 'It's Tricky'. A rap-rock tour de force. And all the rap/rock fusion numbers yield glorious results (Walk This Way, It's Tricky, Raising Hell). Without detracting from its historic importance, outside of the rap-rock, it can sound dated. The minimalist beats with the early rap-style offers little light and shade, and doesn't feel like it's moved on too much from Grandmaster Flash. However, it remains pretty entertaining and doesn't take itself too seriously. Like the Beasties, Run-DMC has a consistent style, theme, it's entertaining, and the rap rock is great.

Plenty of the album feels anodyne at best, and soulless at worst, due to The Emperors New Clothes of the Edge's droning guitar sound and Bono's breathily sanctimonious vocals. On the flip side, and it is quite a flip side - there aren't any bad songs here, aside from 'Tryin' to Throw Your Arms' which is appallingly lacklustre and throwaway album fodder. Basically there's some cracking songs but often the production is devoid of life. And the album is too long. It could do with shaving a fair bit off (like your Mum's bush). On account of 'One' and 'Mysterious Ways' alone, it rates high three.

A quarter of it is a like an ominous oratorio, evoking murders in dark medieval cathedrals. Could only be constructed by a genius. The rest sounds like Yoko Ono taking a shit.

It did grow on me after four or five listens. He's clearly a good songwriter and retains a great pop sensibility through all the country clichés about leaving this one horse town and hard drinking pappy on the farm, since Billy died at the factory, goin via the gas station down the interstate in the Chevy 67, hear the rubber on the blacktop, past that truck stop to get a beer and play ball and get a gal and Grandmammy's crying cos most people live and die here and the bank's fucked us over, but you could get that ol Greyhound outta town, one day it's gonna be fine, and you don't need to end up like your Daddy, yeah one day it'll be fine. One day. And on balance that's a three.

I don't feel too different about this than I did 'No Sleep Til Hammersmith'. Ace of Spades is a bullet-proof rock classic, and the album is downhill from there. However, I was surprised at the riff-strength on the first half of the album: 'Love Me Like a Reptile'; 'Shoot You in the Back' ("Western movies!", this one being a lesser cousin to Immigrant Song) - but 'Fast and Loose' (like Wolfmother) and '(We Are) The Roadcrew' in particular. After this it really loses any appeal quite quickly with second rate, sausage-machine riffing. The uninspired and one-dimensional lyrics add to the overall malaise by this point, culminating in the woeful and morally questionable 'Jailbait'. Because of that first half, and the title track (which no superlatives can ever do justice to, such is its perfection), it does hold a solid three.

I ended up being disappointed. Nothing here is poor, but nothing matches the brilliance of the opening three tracks. And that's not being racist, some of my best friends are Rastafarian, well I saw one on the bus once. It's bordering a four due to the opening triplet. It loses something when Bob isn't on lead vocals. But it remains at a high three.

This is a true album - it's greater than the sum of its parts. 'Money' stands alone, but the rest all work together to create the ethereal atmosphere. These are songs that should be listened to as an album. Everything about this has an expansive sound; the title invoking space and expanse; the pulsing electronica which sounds futuristic but sows anxiety; the heavily reverbed instrumentation; the imperious guitar solos; the lofty, philosophical lyrics. A rare end-to-end aural pleasure.

Tango. Montreux Festival. Couple of librarian looking muthfuckas on the cover one with accordion, the other on glockenspiel. If there is ever an album cover and title combo that requires more effort to suspend all preconceptions, then I'd hate to see it. I am not completely averse to a bit of glock-rock ( it turns out it's a vibraphone). I'm sure many more listens are needed to understand it in full, and some of the appeal is in the fact this is live and the playing highly proficient and impressive to watch. The progressions sound quite lovely and adventurous without ever going into free form jazz - in fact this all feels highly structured and rehearsed to me. A bit more soul, a bit less accordion would be my suggestion. Much of it sounds like a Pixar moment of peril. It certainly has energy and is not dreary in the slightest. I'm willing to offer up a three.

This is one of those 'life on the streets', hard hittin' albums, in that Tupac, Biggie, beef vein (beef vein!) - gangster confessionals, if you will. Whilst not exactly my cup of tea, on the evidence here, he does take his place amongst those respected luminaries. That's when it manages to pull away from cliché. Thankfully it does that a fair bit, and it is far superior to the gangsta rap which it birthed. It is pretty much a diary, and Nas's lyricism is undeniably good. The album is too long. But I do like the way the cars on the cover look like one of those nose tapes athletes wear. It was growing on me each listen. It has just tipped to a low four.

There is such a range of cross-genre samples from Marvin Gaye to Smashing Pumpkins, Shakespeare's Sister to Public Enemy; that it sounds layered and varied without ever straying from the Tricky brand of ominous trip hop. He has created something quite foreboding and cavernous and interesting. Although I can appreciate the likes of 'Strugglin' and 'Feed Me', that is more admiration than active enjoyment. Elsewhere, like the pumping 'Your Retro's or the opening run of four or five songs it is positively great. I end at a high four.

I found this an energetic romp through some garage rock, often peppered with nice guitar riffs. But ultimately much if it is all rather average - with no discernible reason this would ever be on the 1001 albums to listen to ahead of death. There were several real enjoyable standouts. It's plum in the middle threes.

Overall, there is fun to be had, but it all feels a bit lightweight and there's no killer tracks. He flits between styles without really nailing any. It is way too long. But the lad's put in a decent effort, and offered some vague enjoyment. Still - I think a three may be overegging it, seeing as I'm unlikely to listen to any of this again.

I find the music is at its best when the samples have some colour i.e. not over reliant on the drum beats which becomes a bit of a repetitive trope, but with some piano and guitar. Exceptions are Bring the Noise and Don't Believe the Hype, which deliver densely packed raps delivered at high velocity. And you know they mean what they say - this isn't throwaway content. I prefer Black Planet, but this is up there.

Much of it doesn't seem to offer anything except staying well within well-trodden country guidelines. So 'Pride' is just a lesser take on Everly Brothers 'Walk Right Back'. 'Lonely Street' reveals glimpses of his very nice, gritty baritone, which frustratingly often gives way to more of a croon throughout the album. The album moves from introspective ballad to jaunty country pop pretty well. There are flashes of a nice baritone; and some decent country tracks that never grate, nor excite.

I read someone comparing this album to Village Green Preservation Society and Parklife - and it rightly takes it's place as a snapshot of English life at a particular time, sitting alongside those classics. 'Our House' has some of the most affecting melodies and lyrics ever committed to record. I love the way Rise and Fall just kicks straight into vocal. 'Tomorrow's Just Another Day' is one of my favourite Madness songs. 'Blue Skinned Beast' is pure pop until the unexpected chorus, tempo change, more in the minor key, fat piano hook - another barnstormer, and complete earworm. And there's more, although it does dip towards the end, depriving it of top marks. I have overlooked Indian accents and that cover 🫣

The titular track is pop perfection isn't it. A hauntingly elegiac intro that propels into a funk-guitar infused, gospel burst of ultra-catchy chorus. And that bass; it absolutely underpins the whole production. To say the album is downhill after that is slightly unfair. Express Yourself is solid and Cherish a pop banger. The lullabyesque 'Dear Jessie' is a big box o' candy in song form. Highly saccharine, but rather irresistible and secretly enjoyable. 'Oh Father' has some very nice chord changes, and is very much like Kate Bush, into a post-2000 Radiohead style chorus with a floating feel, and off time drum beat. This, more than any other, shows her knack for inhabiting the world outside of pop. 'Spanish Eyes' is a decent attempt too, whilst not living up to the enigmatic promise of 'Oh Father'. Aside from those I feel like there's a bit of infilling, such as the dire Prince duet or Keep it Together. Very difficult to rate, but I feel on balance as an album it doesn't quite attain the excellence to warrant a four, notwithstanding some superlative tracks. A high three then.

I always expect to find hidden album gems with S&G, and I found them aplenty on 'Parsley, Sage...' - but there just aren't any here. Having said that, there is absolutely no way an album with Hazy Shade, America, Old Friends, Bookends, At the Zoo and Mrs Robinson, comes in below a five. Even if the rest of the album was the duo farting it's a five for those alone.

If you present an album of 1.16hrs you'd better make darn sure it's good enough or at least interesting. But there is quite a bit here that's underwhelming. I dont think it anywhere near the quality of Mermaid Avenue nor Yankee Hotel. Had it been pared back, a very decent album would emerge. On the strength of the more folk-inspired numbers it gets a three.

Musically, the album is a curious mix of hymnals, ballads, protest songs, and 80s-shoegazer pop. 'Emperor's New Clothes' is one of three with Andy Rourke that are absolutely top-notch indie/shoegaze/dream pop. 'Jump in the River' is the second, and I love Pirroni's guitar work reminiscent of some of his 'Kings of the Wild Frontier' days. It's like a good Jesus and Mary Chain. The final one is 'You Cause as Much Sorrow', Rourke's bass superb in the glorious chorus. Much of it does feel like it overlaps with The Smiths (melody, satire, biting lyrics, great musicianship). The overall production is really well done and restrained. 'Black Boys on Mopeds' could teach Billy Bragg a thing or two - explicit political commentary which doesn't grate in the slightest and is really very moving. Throughout, the vocals sometimes soar, sometimes are breathy, sometimes on the edge of breaking - it really is superb - pre-autotune days where all the human frailties and cracks remain. The album is quite the tour de force.

'Can't Buy a Thrill' I liked a lot, and Pretzel Logic not so much - so as a band I am undecided where I stand on this bunch of Proto-prog/Dad-rock specialists. At 40 minutes long and a collection of eight songs, this album is edited perfectly; makes you forget your listening to a style that is teetering on a tightrope - falling into bland MoR jazz inspired pop one way; and prog rock guitar wankery the other. But tread the tightrope they have, and they have done so perfectly. The melodies continue to shine out over any prog-rock leanings; 'Razor Boy' leans heavily to Pretzel's MoR, but the melody saves it; 'Show Biz Kids' is like a funky retake of Nilson's 'Coconut'; 'My Old School' an effortless Eagles-esque breezy tune; 'Pearl of the Quarter' a Harrison-esque slide-guitar-propelled ballad. 'King of the World', like 'Boston Rag', has all the perfect melodies of CSNY, some Pink Floyd synth thrown in and fantastic Niles Rodgers funk-riffing.

There is much here that is pleasant but not astounding. It's a fairly strong album with a few highlights. I am a bit baffled why the Live album is not in the list - surely one of the next gigs ever recorded. Still - Exodus yet to come...

Overall as swing goes I found this very entertaining, due to the energetic live feel. They seem like a band that excels live and I would have loved to have seen it. So if you're conveying that on a record you've achieved something. Whilst entertaining it's not perfect and does dip in places. It really is bordering a three/four here. Think I'll tip to a four as swing albums rarely offer up this level of enjoyment.

More often than not there is usually a catchy break or outro introduced into most of the tracks, showing a real knack for a catchy hook amongst the haunting melodies, the jazz, the psychedelia. I wouldn't say it all works well; but as a sprawling set of intriguing songs this is a very entertaining album. Will definitely listen more.

Aside the catchy tunes, its other charm ends up being the sixth form poetry and his unapologetic, conversational style using his Brummy accent; and rapping about the everyday and the mundane. The references to British life are so hilariously at odds with gangsta and American rap (where everything is overblown and grand, or behind a massive cause, and the rappers ego is always the most important thing), talking about having a pint in the Wetherspoons or betting on a footie game. 'Empty Cans' is a masterclass in taking the achingly quotidian and making it into a three minute rap, down to the minutiae of the 'bit round the back of the TV' being broken, the power supply being broken, unscrewing 15 screws to remove the back panel. The complete inconsequential nature of the narrator's life and stories are what make it funny. I wouldn't seek most of this out again. The singles are the highlights, and the rest of it was an enjoyable listen due to the sheer audacity of presenting the mundanity of life. The biggest mystery is why 'Original Pirate Material' is not here instead, which is an album of wall to wall bangers.

In summary, it's a great romp through some soft/ prog rock riffs and good melodies. I find a couple a little weak, maybe clichéd, but the pace and superb musicianship keep it all afloat. On top of that one of the best songs ever written.

This and Urban Hymns are my sounds of 1997. It's always a little worrying when you revisit these albums after having not listened for a while, knowing the Proustian rush it will undoubtedly give; but not knowing if the music holds up. But I needn't have feared - the album is simply wall to wall Britpop-era excellence. Where Oasis take their Beatles with a twist of Quo, and Blur take theirs with a twist of Weller or Kinks, this lot have added a big Stones mixer, and a twist of Dylan. And while they wear their influences openly on their baggy parka sleeves, the album is carried by the pure strength of every single melody. Their eponymous album was good - but this is their peak; I love it when a band is in this form and just hits riff after riff, hook after hook, melody after melody. And every break down, bridge or middle eight in every song, adds a new earworm melody or hook. It's really one of those albums I always did, and still do, find life affirming. I don't skip anything, I love everything, they nail the feel of the time, the vibe, they take Britpop and mash it with their soul and dance sensibilities to produce a classic. And that's it.

I like it when these bands have elements of, or passages of, nice harmony and melodic playing, just to show they can do it. It tricks you into thinking the noise must mean something as it's not the only string to their bow. Take Picasso. He spent years actually painting properly before he moved to drawing all women like Wayne Rooney. Megadeth actually do it on Rust in Peace. Metallica do it. So a big problem is the absolute lack of any variety whatever, or even hinting that they have melodic chops. Yes the guitar player can shred. It's technically proficient. But it's devoid of any affinity with the song, and any solo can be lifted and placed in any other song. It's more Napalm Death than Megadeth. 'Jesus Saves' has a pretty good power chords intro - actually sensed a bit of what Nirvana were doing on 'In Utero' in this. But when he starts singing it's back to formula - epileptic mode is activated as the drummer goes double time, and the guitar solos some random shred. There are a few decent bits - generally when there's no singing and no guitar soloing. And ITS NOT PANTERA. For that I'll scrape it a two.

I think this one of the better-quality psychedelic funk albums I've heard, although is a little mixed. It always rankles me a bit that there are never any originals on these types of albums, so the band is relying on selecting some, often hitherto lesser-known, tracks. In the case of 'Papa was a Rollin Stone', they didn't even want to record it, but for the insistence of Norman Whitfield. I always marvel at the intro for nearly 4 minutes, fundamentally based around a few repeating bass notes - and it still could go on for another three and not feel too long. The album feels an album of two halves with the Whitfield-led live funk sound for the first three tracks (but half of the album in terms of length); moving mainly into balladry for the second half, which I assume is a band-led decision. Aside from P-WARS I'm not sure I could term anything as superb. But quite an enjoyable listen nonetheless.

Those classroom recordings are a distraction from what is an excellent album. I'm sure many people think they are profound - but they are actually close to mentally retarded. That abomination aside, the album is peppered with some really excellent songs, especially the first half which is quite magnificent - 'Lost Ones' is pumping, and seems to have some of the Marley reggae influence; 'Ex-Factor' is glorious with a motown-worthy chorus; similarly 'Doo Wop' is like a lost 60s classic and, quite frankly, genius songwriting; 'I Used to Love Him' is elevated by the Motown backing harmonies; 'To Zion' a heartfelt ballad; 'Forgive Them Father' draws on 'Concrete Jungle's bassline really effectively. It does lose its way for a bit, and I find 'Every Ghetto, Every City' (the Wonder-style clavinet notwithstanding), and especially 'Nothing Even Matters', as too neo-soul and dispensable. It's a great album that's for sure, in spite of the classroom shit-skits and its fatty length. These points drag the album down. But the Motown feel, classic feel, the amazing vocals, great production make it a classic. Its as close to five as I can imagine. I really really really wish it was shorter.

They basically take Stooges punk rock and cross it with Sonic Youth to make something sounding rocky but also hazily disaffected. And there you have grunge. I am not sure whether I am looking out for the Nirvana link, but I don't think you have to look very hard at all. It smacks you directly in the face on the opening track 'Need'. So you have an important album which birthed an important rock scene at a particular place and time. That scene would itself be highly influential. But as an album, although I admire its punchiness, it's a collection of quite bog-standard indie rock songs with a couple of standouts. It's solid. But guess you needed to be there. Fantastic album cover though.

This sounds nowhere near the hyper-polished rock of Rumours, maybe deliberately so. Often It can sound like a collection of good b-sides, the Buckingham numbers especially. I have a new found admiration for Christine McVie after this album and Rumours; and some of her efforts here are really great - none more than 'Over and Over'. It's certainly an interesting album, and trying to view it in isolation (without the shadow of Rumours) I can't say there's a bad track here, even if some are formulaic. It doesn't have a commercially killer track - but has some gems nevertheless.

A curious mix of chanson musical, and industrial rock. Unfortunately they rarely combine the two. So they drop in 'La Filles De La Mort' (Death Fillets), and 'Charlotte' (French for Carol), which are both pretty much straight chansons, alongside the harder rock numbers. But overall, the heavier numbers started to really grow on me. I think its lack of pretension, alongside the interesting layering of sounds, driven by rock guitar spoke to me. Might also help I don't know what he's singing about, so the lyrics - which may be doom-laden bore-rock - are irrelevant. It currently shall reside at a strong three.

The voice sounds like he's gargled glass; it's fully understandable why Tom Waits is an acquired taste. I just want to tell him to clear his ruddy throat. I feel he may have grown into the voice with age, and his aged baritone on the later album 'Bone Machine' gives it some more gravelly weight. A couple of enjoyable tunes here but the result for me is a bit Emperor's New Clothes. I can't see the attraction from this album alone - and I still await my Waits epiphany.

I really really really got into this. Possibly one of the highest compliments I can pay this is that, despite our generation's identification of Isaac Haye's as the voice of Chef, I never once thought of South Park. This album could easily find its way up there with 'Boards of Canada' - an album to create an atmosphere - that I could play over and over. Although I may edit out the Phoenix preamble.

The album combines the right amount of glam, rock, indie, disco and ambient elements. It feels like it was ahead of disco and punk. And doing new-wave before new-wave was invented. I struggled for a while to get to top marks with it - but after about the twentieth listen I feel it must be so influential, that to deny it the big one would spiteful. The title track is sublime.

I think this matches The Smiths and that is saying something. This is much more uplifting in places. It really nails a pop rock band downbeat upbeat sweet spot. And all for this for a debut at a time when everyone else had big hair is nothing short of miraculous. 'Laughing' surely one of their best tracks if the 80s - nay, ever. Superb.

There are layers of beautiful melody across the album. Aside from 'The Duchess', it doesn't lose its way into the purely abstract, and remains grounded with a real sense of the tuneful. Sometimes jazzy, sometimes poppy, sometimes pastoral folk, it's consistently lovely, consistently atmospheric and consistently enigmatic. Ambient jazz folk pop at its finest.

The core of the album is nothing short of sublime, featuring some of the band's best work. 'Girlfriend in a Coma' feels like the perfect band performance - you can listen to each of the band and be astounded, from Morrissey's blackest of comical lyrics, to Rourke's glissando-ing bass, to Marr's beautifully picked guitar line, to Joyce's irresistible intro (with the offbeat tom) and brilliant transitions from chorus back to verse. From here into 'Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before' which is the Marr/Morrissey partnership in imperious form - guitar hooks, and superlative lyrics ('and the pain was enough to make a shy, bald Buddhist reflect and plan a massive murder'). The brilliance continues with 'Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me'. After what must be one of the most evocative and depressing intros to any song, it symphonically bursts into a self-pitying, 50s-reminiscent ballad of unmatched proportions. For those alone it's a 5.

The original cover for the album was abysmal - those shit cartoon affairs that you find on the likes of Iron Maiden or Megadeth albums, announcing the arrival of tedious soft rock masquerading as hard rock. Thankfully it was quickly changed for the iconic cover. But that's quite a fitting turn of events - because half of this would fit on the hellish cartoon album of dull rock platitudes; and the other half fits the iconic rock cover. I suppose that balances to a three - but the rock juggernauts, Welcome to the Jungle, Paradise City and Sweet Child, are so iconic this does scrape a four.

Pleasant and forgettable is probably a fair summation of the album. I couldn't help but compare this to the roughly contemporaneous Nanci Griffiths album, which is far superior. but it does have a handful of very nice songs, with a vocal that speaks to me - for which it lands on a very respectable three rating.

It sounds like a parody at times. Not sure if it was meant to be. That would make it better. Self-awareness is certainly not an issue - when they sing 'brain haemorrhage is the cure' you have to applaud them for their perceptiveness. Henry Rollins said they were like Spinal Tap and he has a point. 'Teachers Pet' is the best song Spinal Tap never wrote. It's not abject. It's not Pantera levels of being execrable. It's just a bad attempt at Motörhead is all.

The album is a perfect mix of sophisticated melody, pop, rock, and brooding ambience. Layers reveal upon every listen. There's not a dud here. To paraphrase Brian Pern, this is someone that could not only get laid - but discuss applied mathematics with his fans. Looking forward to listening to more Gabriel in earnest.

I don't think this album is better than Behaviour, which I liked for its sombre, evocative mood. I also don't see how this is better than 'Please', which has a consistently better standard. But there clearly are some exemplar PSB songs - amd the Dusty duet and 'It's a Sin' are unimpeachable. Perfect synth-pop mixed with urban anxiety, which is what they do best. The track by track quality certainly is variable - but when it's good, it's perfect. Has to just tip a four.

The originals are great. The guitar opening of 'Ole Man Trouble', an off-kilter hook with trills throughout is Steve Cropper on magic form. 'Respect' holds its own against Urethra's definitive version turning the almost chauvinistic lyrics until a feminist anthem. And 'I've Been Loving You Too Long' feels like a standard, showing the sensitive side of Otis. His powerful rasp never lets up. The album combines, soul, rock, RnB, gospel to great effect. Otis's great delivery, a great backing band, a superb live feel - you've got a sure fire five on your hands.

They try their best to live up to the whinge-rock moniker that detractors throw at them, with the pointless 'Scatterbrain'; the dirge of 'We Suck Young Blood'; the aimless 'Backdrift' and the directionless Apex Twin attempt with 'The Gloaming'. Get rid of those and you've got an album just shy of 40 minutes which would be utter perfection. Take the absolutely barnstorming '2+2=5'. Orwellian imagery, political disillusionment and pounding altern rock in an unsettling 7/8 time signature resolving to common 4/4 in a massive crescendo - glorious! There is no other band could do this. The 15 minutes of dirge drags it to a lower 5. But still a 5.

This album of confessionals feels a different proposition to 'Jagged Little Pill' though, which it clearly heavily influenced, down to even the a cappella track. For a start, the piano playing is excellent throughout, finding new refrains and hooks every minute. At least the first half of this album is superb. She went on to cover Chas n Dave, and suckle a pig, and write Cornflake Girl. I cannot argue with any of that.

This seems wildly overrated in an Emperor's Clothes type way. That being said it nicely weaves post-punk Talking Heads new-wave, with rock-n-roll and rockabilly riffs. The result is part surf-rock, part new-wave part-punk. Alongside numerous punk bands, it also reminds me of The Cramps, with their psychobilly style. After a few listens I did warm to it quite a bit. It pulls together various alternative rock threads into something deceptively simple. But then - it is literally quite simple, and I'm falling into the Emperor's New Clothes trap. Notwithstanding - an enjoyable album with growth potential; high three.

I'm loathe to give it a middle of the road three. It doesn't deserve that. It deserves something either below or above - cos this is anything but run of the mill. I find it quite a confused attempt at a concept album - Marriott was gravitating to blues rock and the pull here is clear, but he's still trapped in psychedelia. It's crackers. Maybe one day the haphazard charm will dawn on me but for now, not. Except for the cockney knees up numbers which Marriott didn't really like, but are the easy standouts.

An evocative and soulful album full of superbly played stringed instruments to create a great African tapestry of melody. A masterclass in singing little but saying a lot.

Kraftwerk somehow manage to feel simultaneously of the past and of the future. Or to put it another way they evoke an enthralling past vision of the future. Alternatively, they have a futuristic (and Futuristic!) view of the future in what is now the past. With that context, a few albino-looking mutter-fuckers tapping some buttons on a synth, takes on a world of significance. This is a refinement of their sound to be as efficient as possible, true to Germanic form. And it's been instrumental in kick-starting hip-hop to boot. I can understand why the Kraftwerk purist may see Man Machine as a backwards step, but that remains the perfect marriage of industrial synth and melody for me. Nevertheless, this has got to be a funf.

There are some reasonable but throwaway tunes included; but the centrepiece is the incongruously superb duo of 'My Generation' and 'The Kids are Alright'. The album is sandwiched between two incredible singles, I Can't Explain and Substitute. Compared to these the album overall feels solid but sub par.

This feels a lot more than a rap album, aided no doubt by the presence of Inflo who also produced Michael Kiwanuka. As a result you get some soul, reggae and a generally vintage and super melodic groove to many of the tracks. I enjoyed this a lot, and it continues to grow on me.

I found this a fascinating album. First, it felt dusky, like the smoke-lit jazz bars of post-war Europe. Cabaret and jazz. Marlene Dietrich. Unrequited love over a piano. And the band sitting behind that is nothing less than superb, sometimes deciding to show off as Jack Bruce marvelously does in the great 'Men of Good Fortune'. Lou fits into that aesthetic of singing about eccentric outsiders from a seedy underworld. But a sense of melody runs through the whole thing. I for one thought it worked with very few missteps. And what's more this feels extremely unique; maybe can be compared to Histoire de Melody Nelson? Enthralling.

Like so many Britpop-era bands, a peak at the debut album and then a fade into obscurity. A short, snappy, and catchy new-wave revival album, taking in Blondie and The Stranglers on the way. What else do you want? Well maybe a bit more originality seeing as at least half of it is ripped off. I think an album very much diluted by filler, but with some nice energetic, derivative highlights - in fact a few absolute Britpop classics. And a modus operandi that generally means you finish the song after a couple of minutes. I like that. I think it all balances out.

'Alone Again Or' is a minor-key mariachi masterpiece. The swelling tremelo violin, trumpets (and great solo) and picked acoustic, all combine superbly. 'A House is Not a Motel' continues the acoustic-folk-pop, not a million miles from the Byrds. A great track. Whilst this isn't a protest album, there were a couple of moments lyrically ('the news today will be the movies for tomorrow, and the waters turned to blood' or 'ask your leaders why' or 'they're locking them up today, they're throwing away the key - I wonder who it'll be tomorrow, you or me?') that made me question where the protest singers of today are, when we need them most. Singing about umbrellas, chandeliers or baby sharks, that's where. A grower to be sure, with a pair of fantastic opening tracks. Thoughtful. Some straight down the middle of the road kind of stuff but dressed with some very nice arrangements.

A surprising album, opening with the eponymous track, having the pulse of a synth-driven Kraftwerk number. But it has the artifice of a challenge game show - think Krypton Factor, think Crystal Maze - rather than the minimalistically delivered motorik beat of those aforementioned tuetonic peddlers of synth ambience. 'Why'd Ya Do It' is by far and away the best track. It perfects everything the album is trying to achieve. A great groove, fantastic bass hook, well-applied sax, Frippian guitar. A vocal that is semi-spoken with venom ostensibly flowing from persona experience. And lyrics that'd make a whore blush. Some decent album bookends, but overall it's a sense of a good story behind it rather than a good album. I can't see NASA putting it in a space capsule and firing it out to Mars alongside 'Dark Side of the Moon' put it that way.

The ubiquitous Steve Winwood is back, seemingly popping up everywhere - only recently on Broken English and Berlin. This is very much the acceptable face of jazz rock. Although I'm not sure this album has a coherency; at worst it seems a bit directionless. But I am tending to the 'at best' case, which is a string of semi-connected songs which have quite a nice feel and arrangement, with some very good breaks - and Winwood's obvious ear for melody. It's one of those with four potential, but gets a very strong high three. And no doubt we'll be seeing you soon Stevie.

I surprised myself by giving Paranoid top marks. Black Sabbath are a great find I.e. I obvs had heard them but hadn't listened. They blow away subsequent 'heavy' rock, thrash rock/doom rock/torture rock/pain rock/injury rock, out to the furthest fucking reaches of the universe. First half powerful - second half loses structure and its way. That all comes together in the next album.

On 'Red Intro' I just thought - jeez. Calm down. You would be the most annoying man to try to converse with in a social setting. The obligatory, pointless hip-hop album intro done with, the album quickly finds good ground with 'How Many Mics' which is like a twisting Pharcyde rhythm and delivery, with a dark carnival feel. In general, the album feels elevated above the countless pile of 90s hip-hop albums, narrating life in the streets. It falls into it a bit ('Manifest'). That and the Outro, which is ridiculous, nearly torpedo the whole thing. I've always thought Fugees a bit lightweight really. As good as Wyclef and Pras can intermittently be, the real magic is when Lauryn sings or raps, and the difference is marked. On 'Killing Me Softly' I just want her to sing without the 'one time' bullshit, which is equivalent to the 'so good' add-on in Sweet Caroline. In saying that, when they all hit form (mainly the singles) the results are excellent.

I suppose there is a certain stigma amongst the musicerati about KoL. A Coldplay and U2 level of snobbery. Namely because they were a band with so much raw promise, and seemingly compromised that for formulaic rock. But I listened to this and thought it not half bad. And not half good. It's a nice ale, but it's starting to go off. They haven't gone completely bore-rock at this point, although the ennui is creeping in here and there - the album finishes with two completely lackadaisical numbers that pave the way for what's to come. Fairs fair, this is a three.

Whilst there are some top not h influences evident throughout, it ends up being an aeon behind the multi-layered textures of Boards of Canada; light years behind the desolate wonder of Björk; and a country mile behind the alternative melodic brilliance of Kate Bush. The album tempo rarely shifts into anything above a crawl. Because most of the album is so singular in tempo, it becomes something of a dirge. And I started to find repeating instances of the lower register pitch-shifted vocal highly irritating. For the other side there is a genuine creativity to many of the tracks, attempting ambience, good melodies, and a good vocal. Which is all a long way to say it's a three.

The album is awash with melody. Taylor-Taylor's voice and harmonising with himself, with synth, gives the Dandys an instantly recognisable pop rock feel. TT's ear for melody means these tracks are far from expendable pop - incorporating pop, grunge, Britpop influence. Add to that the monumental 'Not if You Were the Last Junkie on Earth' and this is pushing a four. But this is a very good, rather than excellent, album.

The album sounds retro as opposed to dated - modern but with an old school feel. The samples, primarily from 74/75 give a vintage feel, carrying afrocentric and socially conscious lyrics. A fair bit of it has an earlier rap feel with rapping over a beat and I like those less. Where the samples form a repeating groove ('Doin' Our Own Dang', 'What U Waiting For', 'Good Newz Comin'', the title track) the results are great.

He has a decent voice but at times just inexplicably wails like he's trodden on a piece of Lego. 'Does Anybody Out Of her Even Care' starts as a 'Perfect Day' take (only Lou Reed gets away with that delivery), and is then punctuated by screams worthy of the pre-natal ward. Beatleseaque again, but reasonably unlistenable. Talking of Lou Reed 'Mr Cab Driver' is pure Velvet Underground and a very decent effort at that. The character portraits don't have the authenticity of Lou Reed, and the melodies don't have the staying power of Abbey Road. The vocal schizophrenia is sometimes jarring. But this is still a class above the corporate rock of Fly Away. The album is really carried by its singles, Let Love Rule, I Build This Garden and Mr Cab Driver and little else.

As is the way with Oasis, mixed feelings. They mined their seam expertly; in earnest, I don't think it lasted much beyond the two albums, although they mined a few more nuggets of gold amongst the gangue in later years. 'Definitely Maybe' has the naive charm; it has quality above what any debut is entitled to have; and it sliced through the worst of the self-pity of pervading grunge and shoegaze at the time. I listen to 'Live Forever' and it gives me a rose-tinted feel of the optimism back then. This may well be the worst album I'll award top marks - but despite all its faults, for capturing the zeitgeist, for all the nostalgia, for some bona fide classics; that must mean a five.

I find it hard to listen to electronic duos (especially when they're brothers) without the comparison, maybe unfairly, to Boards of Canada. But I think it would be fair to theorise that this album took hardcore and rave music and helped develop it into something more thoughtful and ambient - this is paving the way for the IDM of Aphex Twin and Boards of Canada. Even though oftentimes I felt like I needed dual 18-inch subwoofers, a bottle of water and a day-glo whistle, to fully immerse myself in its merits. And, at over an hour long, it feels like some medicinal powder is also beneficial to get in the zone proper. But whereas the Prodigy where in your face aggression and fast beats, Orbital works at a reduced tempo. The album lends itself to listening rather than just dancing off your mash. Songs like 'HALCYON + ON + ON' have slow builds and atmosphere (even getting away with going toe to toe with Opus III's 'Its a Fine Day' classic). The tracks have something far beyond their utility simply for the dancefloor. I don't think it has the complexity, layers or sophistication of BoC, but this is consistently a very atmospheric album.

Overall, an album I enjoyed, and particularly Fateh's vocal power. Some of the vocal runs dotted throughout the album are indescribably good. I also like the pacey tempo, and call-and-response carrying the listener along. There are a couple of tracks which fall into a slower dirge; which offer little respite given each track is eight minutes long. I don't know what they're singing about - but it sounds like they're into it, and that's pretty infectious. A high three.

Innovative album, drawing on minimalist electronic genres and peppered with remnants of rock to create an emotionally detached masterpiece, brimming with unease.

You've got to suspend cynicism of the saccharine, and the easy summer bar feel, lay back and enjoy it. It's basically the Pina Colada of albums. I don't think there's a bad track here. Even when the song appears to be going nowhere a great chorus will pull it back (e.g. 'Date Stamp'). Several numbers such as 'Tears are Not Enough' are a little aimless, or others such as 'Valentines Day' feel a little like a collection of good hooks rather than a coherent song; and that just prevents this getting top marks. But an album very close to unrelenting pop perfection.

With th exception if the needless and Nouvelle Vague-esque Iron Man cover, this really is a marvelous album. It hits its mark pretty much without fail time after time; knowingly twee in places but offset with a little dusting of rock guitar, minor chords hooks and sweet melodies. And Nina's mellifluous voice.

Quite a pleasant affair, evoking saloons, the mid-west and Americana of the past. The doleful harmonica here and there smacks of the prairie, alongside the up and down clip clopping basslines. 'Can I Sleep in Your Arms', and 'Hands on the Wheel' are particularly nice country ballads. The saloon bar honky tonk of 'Down Yonder' and the gospel/blue tinged 'I Couldn't Believe It Was True' as the exceptions, I prefer the lilting side of the album rather than the more breezy numbers (such as 'Remember Me' or 'O'er the Waves'), which come off as a little clichéd and trite. That being said, Willie's cool-as-ice delivery injects a nonchalance to everything. The other big positive is the stripped back arrangements which means this doesn't sound dated like much 70s country.

After the tender, if murderous, charms of Willie Nelson, this is about as welcome as a fart in a boiler suit. It has a stuck-in-treacle tempo throughout. It really becomes the very definition of dirgey. Although the last track nearly wiped out all my good will, it's saved from a one-star by 'Drive'.

There are elements of the album I really like, and the jazz feel with rock and country fiddle creates some great moments. Psychedelia is alive and well but does not subsume everything else. For the moments of clarity and excellence, there is a propensity to extend songs into wandering jams. It's not Grateful Dead messy, in fact it remains quite tight throughout, but those jams highlight a lack of not knowing what else to do with the songs. Where that's avoided i.e. 'Peaches En Regalia' it yields the finest results.

It's one of those rare hip hop albums where pretty much every song is a banger. The samples are varied but consistent and drawing from jazz gives this all a free and breezy feel. It's got great raps great back and forth, a great feel.

A mystical, other worldly album, with little comparison. There are a couple of underwhelming numbers, even though embellished with the great, ethereal synth sounds consistent across the album. The underlying melodies are often fantastic - and it's easy to let the imagination run away and believe there is a narrative here. Elements of robots, space, Japanese manga combine to make it quite cinematic and quite unique.

It's the sort of album that reveals more with every listen. An album with a consistently shimmering feel that conveys a sense of nostalgia, without losing sight of its strong pop melodies. It flits from film noir to lo-fi pop, and whilst the latter category sometimes ends up feeling like a demo, overall you're left with a very pleasing album with some soaring highlights.

It doesn't conform to prevailing indie rock standards of the time, eschewing that for mysterious, carnival sounds meeting 60s Merseybeat, ska meeting pop, sea-shanty rock meeting psychedelia. 'The Coral' is completely ramshackle, completely energetic, with no rulebook. It mashes British 60s with American psychedelia. Add to that the 'La's-worthy ear for melody, and you've got yourself a great album.

I listened to this a lot upon its release. I haven't since, as I genuinely found it too sad, post his premature passing. The album sounds like nothing he's done before, but there are many echoes of the past (Diamond Dogs, Station to Station, Young Americans, Low, Black Tie White Noise, Outside, Earthling, Hours, Heathen all feel present here). Bowie was clearly grappling with mortality - it's moving, yet admirably devoid of self-pity. This level of invention after a 50 year career is beyond belief. With echoes of the past, it's firmly fixed on looking forward, staring down death under the shadow of terminal illness with a hell of a lot of dignity. 'I Can't Give Everything Away' is a devastatingly beautiful ending to an unmatched career.

On the face of it's a man that has given up trying to sing; and who's foregone any nuance in his guitar playing for a simple clipped strums. Such is the enigma of Dylan, it remains absolutely enthralling. To focus on the technical proficiency of the voice or guitar completely misses the point of course. His voice is cutting, vulnerable, cynical, barking, lonely, joyful. It's the instrument to tell his stories - the conviction is second to none. The fact that the audience reactions are cut from the streaming versions of the album is a travesty. The journey of the audience being delighted at the folk set, to the disdain for the electric set is lost. The tectonic plates of Dylan's music is shifting underneath them in real time; and that's a integral part of this album. But no matter. A vital document in rock - absolutely electrifying.

I was often reminded of 'Where I Find My Heaven' by Gigolo Aunts, better known as the theme to Game On. Unapologetic power-pop. 'Star Sign' in particular has a fair bit of similarity. But unlike the semi-vapid 'Aunts', the warm melodies are combined with jangling guitars and harmonies, with a sporadic touch of distorted guitar to create something very appealing. This album soaks in a lot of influence but its tendrils also reach forward into the 90s. A band loved by other bands. Maybe derivative for some, but for me they have created an exceedingly melodic album with a high hit rate. It tips a four.

Garage-punk guitars are replaced with glossy synths, and new wave and disco beats; but the essence of Yeah Yeah Yeahs remains unaltered. Karen O's immaculate vocal remains the standout feature; now out of its usual context, it's no longer a rock screech, but the soar of an electro-dance diva. Her vocal travels everywhere with proficiency; and yet remains aloof in the coolest way possible. The opening three tracks are true heavyweights from their whole catalogue.

Listen and listen and listen as I might, it's mainly a nebulous stream of similar sounding songs; often of an average standard, with a few standouts. Much of this could pass for a good demo tape. Having just fallen off the Bandwagonesque, this sounds extremely unsophisticated by comparison. At well over an hour, all because they had fallen out and couldn't kiss and make up, the issue is compounded. There feels a very decent album that could have been constructed here among the sprawl. As it stands, I think it lands a three by a hair's breadth.

PJ has a capacious mouth and knows how to use it. Her vocal is direct and in your face, taking from the best traditions of The Stones and punk rock. Whilst a germination of what was to follow, this is a cracking album within it's own right. There is less in the way of light and shade than that offered by its progeny, 'Stories from the City'. It signposts greatness down the road, but remains a raw and exciting debut. It was only after many, many listens that this all started to fall in to place. Despite the end of album drag, I think it just tips to a four.

Whereas 'Definitely Maybe' was a crackling debut of guitar rock energy, this is surely their more refined crowning achievement. Sticking with the wall of sound, Noel is leaning away from indie rock and into the anthemic. Songs generally sit around the bloated five minute market; Noel's guitar is a lesson in steadfast tempo and repeating hooks around the pentatonic scale. A recipe for self-indulgence - with an overblown charm. Ending in apt fashion on the overblown 'Champagne Supernova'. Utterly meaningless lyrics in the verse, building to symbolic imagery of rock decadence in the chorus. Nostalgia surely plays a part. I remember getting The Great Escape, The Bends and What's the Story for Christmas 1995. More bangers than the Wall's factory. What a time to be alive.

Had no idea what to expect of this album. Now I've listened to it repeatedly I still don't know what to make of it. An ironic title I discovered; this is far away from their surf-pop days. This really feels like songs thrown together rather than an album - but it has a bit of charm of something like the Beatles Anthology as a result. A fascinating insight into the different sounds and motivations of each Beach Boy, and their meddling manager. It's good moments outweigh the bad (Feel Flows' and Long Promised Road are excellent) - and the bad isn't so bad to drag it down. I think it clambers to a four, and feels like one that may grow over time.

Totally sidestepping the prevailing guitar-driven Britpop of the day for lounge pop, some of this hits a sweet spot, and some of it is rather cloying. He looks a bounder with cravat, neckerchief and cigarette on the front cover. But I found the English cheeky chappy Terry Thomas character, becomes one-dimensional very quickly ('everybody knows that no means yes'; 'hello what have we here - a young lady!'). A whole album of this schtick is too much to swallow (Neil Hannon: "oh I say!"). There are clear highlights, aside from 'Something for the Weekend', not least 'Songs of Love' and 'The Frog Princess'. It's hammy, it's obsessed with the sexuals. Its 'Carry On'. At it's worst it's like a Space album track. It could have done with a trim of about 10 minutes. But it's comforting to have this sort of schtick being created in the swell of Britpop, to be pushing against that ubiquitous tide. I admire that. There are some very solid melodies, and a tongue in cheek mentality. There's humour, there's wit, there's fun. We need this sort of album. It's an easy three.

I found the album's construction fascinating, but importantly Fi hasn't lost her skill for writing melody - which makes this experimental and accessible at the same time. And what's more it grows with every listen. Her vocal is tender or gritty as required. Her backing harmonies are expressive, choral and add a whole other layer to already wonderful melodies (check the 'Cosmonauts' backing). I found this album quite the revelation - the true successor in the Kate Bush lineage, whom she references on the title track. There are shoots of melody sprouting everywhere - some fully blossom, some remain little buds. It's multi-layered; it has interesting touches and inventiveness all over. Not many have the skill to build an album as enthralling. It's fascinating. And it's indescribably good.

Alexa. Play me the most 80's thing you can. I've spent time trying to decide if this is a cynical ploy to make lots of money by TT's record company, or whether it has great artistic merit. But not too much time. Some 80s moments of pop brilliance. A great vocal. A couple of utter classics. A load of covers of varying quality, and a couple of forgettable albums fillers. But plaudits for the iconic album cover with Tina in fishnets and her black pussy front and centre.

The De La Souls take on humour, surrealism and tasty samples, focusing on melodic funk hooks rather than dissonant sampling. There's a smattering of romance as well, pretty non-existent in the rest of the hip-hop world ("Hold my hand, and we'll pick my plantation of daisies for a bouquet of soul"). Optimism and positivity leap off the vinyl, giving a joy rarely found in their competitors. It is a long album at over an hour, and it would sound a lot tighter if chopped a bit. There are a few (e.g. 'This is a Recording') that don't add much to the album. But the modus operandi is one of psychedelic journey; so, unlike many an album, the hefty album length doesn't sink it, but adds to the mystique. I love all the elements of this, the joy, the dispassionate delivery, surrealism, the overriding creativity. Something of a treasure trove.

This was a lesson in why you should listen to albums several times. At first I didn't get it. Lazy proto grunge going nowhere. Something else has since emerged - an atmospheric album of creeping detachment, poetry, leftfield twists and the desolation of the rustbelt.

There's no doubt this is the parents-approved version of rock n roll, with not a pants-bulge or a hips rotation in sight. This classic harmonies are consistently perfect. You couldn't fit a razorblade between them, they are so in unison and so perfectly harmonic. Their lilting country-infused approach fits very well with the electric guitars to create a real bittersweet sound. Surely an inspiration for, not just The Beach Boys, but every group that was ever to strive to harmonise. A concise album of melodic brilliance, with exemplar harmonies, interspersed with dated rock n roll variations. A couple of timeless classics here, and a couple more waiting to be rediscovered. This feels like a true album in the days when there were precious few true albums.

Perfect acapella harmonies. Beautiful, pastoral folk melodies seemingly a conduit for nature itself. Sympathetic electric-guitar lines. Psychedelic reverbing swirls and eastern melodies. And this just the first track 'Sun it Rises'. It's one of those albums that everyone seemed to be listening to at the time; I had it on CD - and yet rarely have I revisited this in its entirety in the past decade (even in spite of being a fan of their recent atmospheric album Shore). Perfect in its construction, in its melody, in its execution and in its atmosphere. Five stars was invented for this sort of album - it's as close to perfection as you're likely to get.

As a big hodgepodge of basement demos from America with a 60s British influence, this could be enjoyable. But the whole premise does not make for a fantastic album, and one that is more a curio. For the snippets of undeniably great melody it gets midway in the ratings. It has piqued my interest to listen to some of their more developed albums.

An album given so much of its character by Richard Butler's distinctive vocal. Not quite sneering, not quite in tune, not quite arrogant. It's instantly recognisable and stamps every track. 'Pretty in Pink' aside, 'No Tears' is the cream of the crop. A showcase for many of the 80s sounds that speak to me - some Bowie-influenced sax touches; a verse that surely was to inspire Morrissey; and a guitar-line worthy of Marr. An album that carves a fantastic path between post-punk and new wave and bringing in their predecessors, with sax, some glam guitar, some jangling guitar. Some rock bangers and some impeccable melancholic melodies; all delivered via the nearly out of tune sing-speak of Butler. In amongst it some distinctly average tracks in a mid album lull. Falls just short of top marks.

The Imperial Grand Ministers of Funk have created a continuous sonic backdrop which is only equalled by contemporary mixmasters, Jive Bunny. The raps feel like they laid the groundwork for so much modern hip hop. Breaking free of the repetitive form of the original MCs like Grandmaster Flash, and raising it to something much more complex. If I were to ever meet them I'd shake them by the hand and say, listen chaps, this might not entirely be my thing, but it's jolly accomplished. Although I prefer the other two PE albums we've reviewed, It's cutting lyrics and important subject matter and continuing quality of raps, tips this into four.

At its core, the album remains American soft-rock, as the Spinal-Tapesque 'Hot for Teacher' demonstrates. Dave Lee Roth is your classic 80s cock rocker, and cringe-inducingly creepy ("Reach down between my leg and ease the seat back"). Never do the lyrics have anything of significance or importance to say. The title track, which opens the album, sounds like when Maggie Philbin used to get some amateur electronics 'scientist' in the Tomorrow's World studio to demonstrate the future sound of music via a home-manufactured computer. VH spends most of his time sweep-picking or tapping his way at the speed of light around the entirety of the fretboard. Yes technically impressive but George Harrison'd be spinning in his grave if he wasn't dead. 'Jump' takes its rightful place as an 80s soft classic. But an album that's all sizzle and no steak.

You'd be hard pressed to find many album bookends that outcompete the two here. 'Let's Go Crazy' to open is absolutely rocking. A very entertaining preacher-style opening, before it gives way to that killer riff, infectious beat and killer solo. And the climactic title track is Prince hitting the sweet spot of balladry, rock and gospel. The album filling is a consistently good standard amongst these behemoths. He doesn't take too long to find his falsetto which pretty much guarantees he's gonna be singing about shagging ('The Beautiful Ones'). On 'Darling Nikki' he loses some quality control in that regard as is his want - "I met her in a hotel lobby masturbating with a magazine". Firstly, she is committing this act in full view in a hotel lobby, which is rather demented. Secondly, she wasn't masturbating _to_ the magazine but _with_ the magazine. It sounds like she has her legs akimbo on the sofa by the reception desk fucking herself silly with a rolled up woman's weekly. One thing's for sure - I've got to see the film. Overall the album is a good listen. It has a funky pace, an alternative edge, and some out and out classics, even epics. But not quite enough for the toppermost.

It's a melodic masterpiece from start to finish with ne'er a bad tune to be found. 'She Bangs the Drums', 'Waterfall' and co, are worthy of any 60s band in their prime. Has there ever been an album so damn joyful to listen to? There is none of the sneer of punk, nor smug ego of Britpop. Major-chord, melody and groove-driven elation. To me it will always be the sound of being young. And so the album ends up being a magnificent paradox. At the intersection of the 80s and the birth of Britpop, it really feels like the perfect encapsulation of a moment in time. And yet that moment in time for me wasn't 1989 but was when I discovered it proper, in 1997. It's the sound of youthful optimism, of discovery, of being on the edge of something. That’s why it endures: it doesn’t just belong to one era, but to any wanting to claim it as part of their own.

'Sat in Your Lap' opens the album with intent - all the alternative rhythm and labyrinthine lyrical delivery of Talking Heads and Bowie. Along with the use of sampled sounds via the CMI Fairlight, it gives off a fantastic manic energy. It does fall down in places though. The worst offender is the title track - a comical Rolf Harris impression, on account of the ridiculously bad accent, heavy breathing and didgeridoo. There feels the shadow of Gabriel's Melt hanging over the album (tribal drums, Gothicism), and this is like an ill-advised revisit to 'Biko'. The next album probably takes some of the more experimental edges and gives them a pop rock sheen without losing them, which is the sweet spot for me. Not all if these tracks hold up to the depth of Cloudbusting and co. Nevertheless I've got to admire an album that is deliberately trying to be different when she was at an apex of her career. A singular focus on what she wanted to do is nothing but admirable. And out of that come several tracks that stand up to the classics; and always a ghostly beauty. Now we are acquainted, it may ingratiate itself further.

I refuse to spend longer writing a review than they did making the album. It has more melody than The Germs. It has more humour than The Dictators. It has more charisma than both put together. It packs a lot in to fifteen minutes, and feels like a proper album despite its brevity. It has less sticking power than old pritstick.

There's a passage in Part II b) at around 7 minutes which is nothing short of sublime - he produces a sound like a cello is accompanying him. His phrasings, his legato playing on the bass notes, his use of the sustain pedal all combining to give a fantastically controlled resonance. I don't know what a purist would think of the crescendo in Part II b) when there are clearly hints of off-notes in his excitement - you do hear the thinness of the treble notes here which makes it all the more impressive he manages to draw attention away from it for most of the concert (or 'gig'). In truth I feel this is a four, but with every listen it grows. Highly proficient but highly expressive which is the real genius. Impossible to understand in a short period of time l, and I can say confidently this will continue to appreciate every time I hear it. Like a fine wine really. Hence on behalf of my future self, I award it top marks.

There is some later Blur, some Everyday Robots just a hint of Gorillaz (that synth bass on 'Northern Whale'). Albarn's voice has taken on a marvelous timbre in later years and would be good to hear some of these live with that matured tone. Simonon, Allen and Tong are integral to build spacious dub, jazz and frenetic shuffle and subtle atmosphere respectively. I love the references to Tilbury docks, the Goldhawk Road and so on - this doesn't try to be anything but of these sceptred isles. A compact yet winding set of tales of the Old Smoke and all its intrigue.

Angular riffing ripped off to heckity by Elastica. It stills sounds fresh, and most of it hits immediately. A lot of credit here goes to the bass which propels these songs along with energetic runs and counter-melodies. 'Champs' is rollicking. Pure simplicity and unbridled indie rock greatness. This is very much Strokes territory and they must have nicked an idea or two from this album. I love the overall feel approach, the hooks, the delivery. I feel it blanks out a little in the middle, preventing what is otherwise a sure fire five.

Would you like some sweets willy? I have never understood the appeal of Saint Etienne. A stylized and non-coherent pastiche. Foxbase Alpha leans on sampling, spoken word, pastiche of 60s pop culture - and I like that concept a great deal. Yet its execution feels very weak, often done at the expense of emotional heft or songwriting strength. It's a band that were caught in a burgeoning music scene and got lucky - they'd never be signed in any other musical period. Guff.

The more I listen, the more I love it. It's an incessant barrage of wailing to woozy bangers. Bossanova produces some of the highs of the Pixies' career. An unceasing tide of surreal alt-rock melodies, awash with the heavy reverb and delicious licks of a surf-rock guitar, set to ethereal vocal harmonies. And losing none of its unique edge. I see this as an evolution of their sound. A noirish beaut.

'Everybody Hurts', overplayed, full MTV and VH1 90s ubiquity, and the closest thing to sentimental balladry - but a genuinely comforting song when listened to after all these years. Other singles 'Sidewinder' and 'Man on the Moon' amongst the best ever written, atmospheric, moving, uplifting, melancholic, glorious. Even 'Star Me Kitten' shows that he can basically read out the signage from Timpsons and still make it other-worldy and beautiful. The anti anthem of 'Drive', the folk melancholia if 'Try Not to Breathe', the haunting 'Nightswimming', the majestic 'Find the River' one of my all time favourites. The whole album feels like a concept, skirting around the inevitability of death, of sorrow but the beauty in life. Sure, it's just a fucking album, but that's what it does for me. Its an album rooted in folk, but still able to deliver brooding minor-key anthems. A soundtrack for life.