1001 Albums Summary

Thank god for Talking Heads. Not that they don't have influences, but, like many post-punk bands, there's a particular dimension of quirk that only they represent. There's a "Talking Heads" itch that just can't be scratched by any other group. I'm not as familiar with More Songs about Buildings and Food as I am with other Talking Heads releases, but I found it just as enjoyable. The songcraft here isn't as immediately accessible as that on, say, Remain in Light or Speaking in Tongues, but that only gives this record its own understated character that rewards repeated (and repeated and repeated) listens as the songs open up and reveal their secrets. I'm going to leave this here and go listen again. More Songs about Buildings and Food might not be my favorite Taking Heads album, but it's still a masterpiece. Five stars.

The rating for this one is easy. Bad is a masterpiece. But what is it about this record that makes it so appealing and such an artistic triumph while being immediately accessible and also very weird, creative, and layered, all at the same time? I don't know if I don't have the language, the attention span, or the time to dig through the elements that all came together to create one of the best examples of popular art in the history of American popular music. The thing is, I rarely reach for a Michael Jackson record casually on my own, but whenever I have a reason to listen, especially to Thriller or Bad, my mind is consistently blown, especially by the sheer density of the recordings. There is a lot going on in all of these albums, and my brain loves the layering. I was nine or ten when this album came out, and, in the Southern Baptist culture in which I was steeped, Jackson was considered a total weirdo by then, especially in what the culture saw as his gender-bending mannerisms, plastic surgery, and soft voice. Some, like my parents, still respected his Motown output with the Jackson 5, but the Jackson King of Pop era basically missed me. We did see his video premieres on Friday night television. Though not directly related to this conversation, it's hard to overstate how epic those video events were. Even though they were skeptical of anything "worldly," my parents were vocally impressed with Jackson's skill as a performer. Still, as a nerdy, white, Bible-belt Christian teen, I was more familiar with Weird Al Yancovick's parodies of Jackson's work than the original work itself. By the time I had gained a little independence from that culture, I was a white male teen in the mid-nineties. Jackson was still around and still making impactful music, but even though he impressed me, I wasn't really interested. Grunge and alternative rock were our touchstones by then. I saw Jackson as incredibly talented but irrelevant to my experience. Later, accusations of inappropriate behavior and even abuse further distanced me from these classic recordings. Now, as an adult, I can go back and listen to these records without the overwhelming gravitational pull of the zeitgeist. And, while Thriller will always be Jones's and Jackson's highest artistic moment together, Bad comes closer than I ever thought it could. These are not just simple dance or pop records. They are densely layered listeners' records that all fans of American popular music must spend some focused time with. As so often is the case, choosing a specific mastering is essential. For Bad, I listened to files ripped from the original CD. My understanding is that later releases used dance or radio mixes and compressed the tracks considerably. And I kind of get it. This music was made to sell millions of copies, and making it immediately impactful was part of that strategy, especially as the heaviness of the bass in modern tracks became more popular as we exited the '80s and entered the '90s. But the compression in the later releases makes it harder to hear what Jones and Jackson were really doing in the studio. For me, in both Thriller and Bad, the track layering is the key to understanding why these records are so good. The older mix allows for more space between the layers, making them easier to hear individually. The impact is especially apparent in the layered vocals. Jackson creates a chorus of his own voice, which allows him to interpret tracks and lyrics in multiple complementary ways at once. In a way, it feels a little cocky. Why does he need to be his own backup singer(s)? But I can't imagine another singer being able to do what he was doing with the vocals at that time. His interpretations were just too unique. I've also noticed that often the harmony and backing vocals are actually slightly louder than the melody track. I can't explain why this strategy worked, but it did, and I don't imagine any other singer performing those vocals would have had the same impact. And the sublayers of the music below the surface, danceable pop, can get downright weird, too. Is that proto drill 'n' bass in "Speed Demon"? The spoken word before "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" is so intimate that it borders on cringe. "Man in the Mirror" is a five-minute treatise on self-reflection and its importance in one's work in the world. Every single song is special. There is not a moment of filler. I could go on and on about this record because there is no end to what could be said about it. I'm choosing to stop here because I want today's album. Five stars.

I'd never listened to this album from start to finish before, but I did have the CD in the collection. This is an outstanding record that everyone should listen to. The writing is a little too on-the-nose for me, but I wouldn't go so far as to call it preachy, mainly because it feels so sincere. Every song is a protest song in its own way; they all present personal stories of poverty, abuse, and materialism. It's striking that a record that is so emotionally impactful has sold upwards of twenty million copies. Chapman's execution of her lyrics is also top-notch. The arrangements are straightforward and low-key, but they always feel appropriate for the music. This album deserves every accolade it has ever received, as does Chapman herself. For me, the real standout here is the recording and production itself. It was released in 1988, before the loudness war was in full swing. It is a digital recording in an era focused on taking advantage of the CD medium for the benefit of the music, rather than as an excuse to compress everything and jack the levels to the max. This album is wonderfully engineered. Chapman's guitar and vocals are given plenty of room to breathe, and she is always the highlight of the recording. I would say it feels like she's in the room with you, but nobody's room is this quiet. If I was being objective, I would give this record five stars, but it's a personal four stars.

Almost everything here represents a solid outing and excellent performance. The production is good, but nothing too exciting. I'm more familiar with Winehouse's legend than her music, and I found her reputation as a solid vocal reader to be well earned on this debut. I found the lyrical content to be pretty immature, though sometimes legitimately fun, like on "Fuck Me Pumps." I am well aware that, as an almost 50-year-old man, I am not the target audience here. I imagine others would connect with this music much more than I did, and I am hopeful that I'll enjoy her later releases even more. Three stars.

First thoughts: What the hell is this? If this record isn't at least interesting, I'll be disappointed. This album art looks strange, lo-fi, and very cool. I hope the music reflects the art style. I'm excited. This one will grow on me, I think. Its genre is right up the post-punk avenue, which I'm naturally drawn to. My first casual listen gave me the impression that this record is a pretty straightforward, though energetic, garage rock album. No problem. Garage rock is cool; it just doesn't tend to hold my attention for long. A second listen revealed much more creativity and depth than I had heard the first time through. That alone will have me coming back for more because I'm always looking for new post-punk to get into. I didn't know enough about this record to understand why it was on the 1001 list, but a little bit of reading informed me that it was a progenitor of '80s garage rock resurgence and one of the first records to incorporate country rock into punk. For the OAD project, I try to approach bands that are totally unknown to me with as little research as possible. Just their inclusion on this list is enough motivation for me to give most records a few spins. However, knowing a little bit about what to listen for helped me appreciate this album more. A quick note about the album art. I admit that I was hoping for a black interpretation of post-punk here, maybe a revelation similar to what many of us experienced when the 1975 recorded, 2009 released, album "...For the Whole World to See" by Death got a resurgence 15 years ago. You should listen to that one if you haven't already. It's awesome. I had to look up some opinions on the album art because my attitude toward it changed when I realized the band's members were (mostly) white. I understand that the album art was changed for the releases of this album after The Gun Club moved over to Blondie's label. I also saw a lot of praise for the pink "voodoo" cover. And I have to admit the original cover grabbed my attention right away. But these images being used by a white band feels exploitative in 2025. I lean toward not being mad at it because it was made in 1981, and from what I read, these images were chosen out of genuine interest. And, of course, I'm not a member of one of the groups represented here, so I'm sure that makes it easier for me to swallow, but this album cover would be inexcusable by my standards if it were released today. Fire of Love got my attention, and I'll put it in rotation. Four stars.