1001 Albums Summary

The guitar nerd in me geeks out over this record. Brian May has one of the most distinct guitar tones and playing styles in rock. In contrast to other arena acts of the era, it sounds like he's drawing more from classical music than the blues. And the way Queen used tape flanging just knocks me out. I love that sound so much. The record sounds fantastic. The songs just come one after another, with no space between any of the tracks. I miss records like this that showcase a large dynamic range. We never hear records like this since the dawn of the loudness wars. The quiet parts are truly quiet. And the loud parts are much louder by comparison. It keeps you on your toes. Everyone in the band writes songs on this album. And each member contributed at least one certified banger: I'm in Love With My Car from drummer, Roger Taylor, You're My Best Friend from bassist, John Deacon, the tender 39 from guitarist, Brian May, and of course, Bohemian Rhapsody from lead singer, Freddie Mercury. The whole thing is a 45 minute ride that shoots out of a cannon and only stops to take one breath at the beginning of side two. It's a thrilling classic.

The Joshua Tree is one of those albums from the 1980s that was so massive, and remains so ingrained in popular culture, that it's difficult to think about in the context of its time. But it's hard to deny the power of the record. Side One is one of the most potent album sides ever committed to vinyl. Where The Streets Have No Name, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, With Or Without You, Bullet the Blue Sky, and Running to Stand Still make up a near perfect mini-album to kick off the record. And the fact that most of those songs are still overexposed by daily airplay on mainstream rock and pop radio stations makes it hard to want to crack open the album itself. But it's a worthy listen. Despite the overexposure of the singles, the album still sounds vital as a cohesive work. U2 (with Brian Eno & Daniel Lanois) did a great deal to create new sonic textures for rock music. And alternative and sensitive-leaning rock bands have been mining these textures throughout the ensuing 35 years. The album remains as influential as it is successful.

Van Morrison fans will tell you that Astral Weeks is his best album. But they’re wrong. This is Van Morrison’s best collection of songs. It’s a little mystical, a little sensual, and a lot soulful. The refrain of Caravan is never far from my lips. And I never skip a single track on the album.

I wasn't familiar with this album, but I liked it a lot. I don't know why The Kinks weren't as big in the US as other British Invasion bands. Apart from the handful of songs that do get radio play here, I'm not familiar with much of their work at all. Arthur appears to be a concept record about the working class in the UK. The songs and music sit somewhere between The Beatles and The Who, which is a pretty great place to be sitting. I liked this a lot. I'm going to track down a copy for myself.

I really hated Fleetwood Mac until I was well into adulthood. I still don't love them; but it's hard to deny that Rumours is a runaway freight train of an album. I didn't mind listening to it again.

This is such a fun and joyful album. If it doesn’t make you move your body, nothing will.

I have a friend who, regardless of what song is playing, will say, "This is somebody's favorite song." Well, I'm certain that Bug is somebody's favorite album. It's not my favorite album; but I tried.

I love love love this record. This is the sound of an outsider, trying to understand what it is to be an insider.

I hadn't really heard any Nick Cave since the 1990s. This was a treat. It runs long; but the music stays engaging. Would do again.

I was a big fan of American Water; but otherwise, I hadn't really followed the Silver Jews very closely. I'd listened to Bright Flight a few times over the years. But it's been a while. So I got to listen today with fresh ears. I like this a lot. It doesn't seem as deeply cutting as American Water. But David Berman remains equally hilarious and depressing, often at the same time. There was nobody quite like him. I'm gonna spin Bright Flight again.

I have been an ardent non-fan of Radiohead since Kid A dropped when I was in college. In the year 2000, there was nothing more insufferable a Radiohead fan. And they were loud. And they were brash. And my hatred of the band had nothing to do with their music. So needless to say, Hail to the Thief was a blind spot in my musical experience. But I liked this quite a bit. Maybe it's finally time to go back and assess the Radiohead catalog, free from the quarter-century-in-the-tail-lights baggage of the Kid A-era Radiohead fan.

Thrash isn't my area of expertise; but I liked this a lot. The drumming is phenomenal. The guitar tone is pretty dated, but the playing is great. The music makes me want to move my body. Win.

I crushed on this album pretty hard in college. It's not really the type of thing that I'm into these days. But I do think it holds up as a solid piece of pop songwriting craft. IMO, Vienna is still the best Billy Joel deep cut.

I enjoy thrash as much as the next non-metalhead. But this album doesn't leave much of an impression. Megadeth is a rare band where I actually prefer the later albums. They made more memorable records after they refined their sound and stablized their "classic" lineup. For me, this is kind of a boring album from a band that would go on to make much better music.

The Who became the quintessential album-as-a-statement band. But I also love these early "maximum R&B" Who LPs, when they were a really great singles band. Of course My Generation and The Kids Are Alright and A Legal Matter are sublime in hindsight. But it must've been jarring in 1965 to turn on the ratio and hear a singer stuttering over a track of guitar feedback, bass solos and drum freakouts. The track is still a perfect distillation of the individual strengths of each member of the band. And the album is still the most aggressive and offensive example of white R&B and garage rock.

Solid debut with lots of radio hits. But it feels like it only has a couple of gears.

Synchronicity is one of those ubiquitous albums from the 1980s (like The Joshua Tree) that became so overexposed in the ensuing years that it's difficult to contextualize how groundbreaking it was. Half of these songs are still being crammed down our ears on a daily basis via FM radio. 40-years after-the-fact, it's tough to muster the enthusiasm to give the album a fresh listen. Indeed, I want to give this album a 2-star rating, just out of spite. To their credit, they really did select the best tracks as singles. Synchronicity II is still thrilling. King of Pain and Wrapped Around Your Finger are fine. Every Breath You Take gets nearly as much airplay as radio static (and is just as easy to ignore). And that's also a fair enough metaphor for Synchronicity as a whole. I know this is 1001 albums to hear before you die. But this is one album I feel like I've already heard 1001 times.

This is the peak of Van Halen, and the peak of glam metal (if you can even call it such). The album is just banger after banger for a solid half-hour, which is great. It doesn't linger long enough to overstay its welcome. Spin it twice!

I wasn't very familiar with Adam Ant. I liked the punky aesthetic of Kings Of The Wild Frontier, as well as the musical quotes from early rock singles like Rumble. I'll definitely be diving deeper into the Adam Ant catalog.

All of the Band’s albums have great songs. But this is one of the best.

The really rocking songs were the two big singles, Street Fighting Man, and Sympathy for the Devil. But the rest of Beggars Banquet is a wonderful mix of country and blues. Some of it is great. Some of it sounds like parody. Some of it sounds like a grope at legitimacy - an attempt to cast themselves in the company of their idols. But it's all endlessly listenable. This is the start of a great run of Rolling Stones albums, and the one where the band finally landed on their sound.

Like many, my introduction to Metallica was the black album. And Justice For All is like playing the black album at 78 rpm. The song structures are great; and the music keeps you guessing for a solid hour. I just wish you could hear Jason Newsted. There's a big hole in the mix where the bass guitar should be.

I don't think there's any question that Cosmo's Factory is the best CCR album. It's amazing what this band did in such a short amount of time. This was the third LP that CCR released in less than a year. And they're all phenomenal. But Cosmo's Factory has hit after hit after hit. Travelin' Band, Lookin' out My Back Door, Run Through the Jungle, Up Around the Bend, Who'll Stop the Rain, Long as I Can See the Light, and their excellent cover of I Heard It Through the Grapevine are still staples of classic rock and oldies radio. This is an absolute rock gem.

Yo, we really like David Bowie and David Byrne, and citrus beverages. Do you like David Bowie and David Byrne, and citrus beverages? Let's be friends.

This is my second-favorite album. All of the rest are tied.

Jack White doesn't need a guitar to rock your ass. He'll rock your ass with a piano. He'll rock your ass with a mandolin. He'll rock your ass with a marimba. He does, however, need Meg White in order to rock your ass; or at least he still did back in 2005. And rock your ass she does. And when he has to, Jack White rocks your ass with a guitar too. But this is mainly the album where Jack White proved that he didn't need a guitar to rock your ass.

I definitely maybe don't get Oasis. Never did. Not sure if I ever will. It still sounds just as generic as it did in 1994.

I really liked this. It's moody and methodical. It's incredibly economical. Everything is heard. Nothing is wasted. It's a really beautiful set.

It's not a popular opinion, but this is not one of my favorite Simon & Garfunkel albums. However, it is very good; and it does contain my favorite Simon & Garfunkel song: America.

Wore this one out when it was fresh. It still holds up.

This was the first White Stripes album I owned. I saw the Fell in Love with a Girl video on MTV2 and went to a record store the same day to buy the CD. And that is what life was like in 2001. And the album still holds up.

The cover art is super menacing: way more menacing than the music. Based on the image, I was preparing myself for death metal, black metal, or some heavy thrash. Instead, I was presented with the missing link between Devo's Duty Now For the Future, and Nine Inch Nails' Pretty Hate Machine. I can appreciate that this work would have been groundbreaking in 1987. And I have no doubt that Laibach was deathly serious about their art and their statement. But in 2024, it all sounds a bit silly: almost like a parody of cold-war inspired Eastern-European art-rock. The album didn't make me a believer.

Oof. This was rough. At least they front loaded the album wi the good song. It sounded like a parody of funk-rock and soul.

Lots of growth here over Youth & Young Manhood. They're most of the way to what they would become on Only by the Night...but not quite. This is a good album, but the pieces weren't quite fitting yet. And the audio mix sucks. I mean, you can hear everything; but the vocals (and sometimes the drums) are so much louder than the rest of the tracks. It's pretty grating.

I liked it a lot. Monk is a blind spot in my musical experience. My jazz well is admittedly, not deep. And when I am feeling jazz, I tend to wade in the cool pool. But I'll be checking out more of this.

Wasn't familiar. Would listen again.

Kinda transitional work between their early folk-rock whimsy, and their later, more commercial proto-heavy metal. I didn't realize how much of this album I was already familiar with until finally hearing it as a complete work. It's really good.

I listened to this album to death in my 20s. It's hard for me to objectively rate it at this point. I used to love it intensely. But save for Vincent, I don't care to ever hear it again.

My favorite AIC album.

I was somewhat familiar with the Zombies, but had never heard Odessey and Oracle. I'm familiar with the massively well-known "Time of the Season". But the rest was fresh to my ears. As far as the album goes, I would love to have heard a full set of songs in the vein of Time of the Season. But the rest of Odessey and Oracle (released in 1968) sounds a lot like the Beach Boys albums of the same period (Wild Honey, Friends, 20/20, etc.). It's enough of a soundalike, that I could easily have been duped into thinking this was a lost Beach Boys record. None of this is bad. In fact, it's quite pleasant. But Time of the Season is the obvious highlight. And nothing else from the album really sticks out. I wouldn't turn it off. But I also won't be seeking it out again.

I still love this record. What an infectious combo of rock ethos, pop hooks, smirky innuendos, and of course Justin Hawkins' soaring falsetto vocals. And the songs are great too.

There's nothing to say about this album that wasn't already covered in the fantastic 50th anniversary documentary, Harvest Time. The album is a masterpiece. It was a favorite of mine when I first heard it. And it's still a favorite of mine, 30 years later.

I liked it. Would do again.

The parts of Bad that I love, I really love. And the parts of Bad that I don't love, I really don't love. Productions like The Way You Make Me Feel, Another Part of Me, Man in the Mirror, and Smooth Criminal are pretty irresistible. I dare you to try not moving your body to any of those jams. Good luck. The other half of Bad is, as the kids are saying these days, pretty mid. It's not that any of it is bad (literal). It's just that in comparison to that parts that are BAD (like Michael Jackson), the tracks that are on cruise control just sound super-boring. For better or worse, by the time Michael Jackson made Bad, he knew how to make a Michael Jackson production. In my opinion, the Michael Jackson albums that came after Bad were lesser versions of a similar formula. But Bad itself is pretty hard not to like.

Didn't love it; didn't hate it.

I'd never heard the full album. But I've heard half of the songs as radio staples. It's not surprising that the album was released in 1990. Half of the songs have the smooth groove of 1980s Sade. The other half of the album looks slightly forward to the hip-hop influenced pop of the 1990s. (You've heard that drum machine on thousands of songs since the 1980s.) But on the whole, Listen Without Prejudice doesn't sound particularly fresh or interesting. Faith is a far more vital album.

I love how effortlessly Soundgarden play with time signatures and sonic textures. Superunknown was the crossroads of their too-weird-for-radio period and their commercial rock period. There's great stuff to cherry-pick from all periods. But Superunknown is my favorite Soundgarden album. And Fell on Black Days might be my favorite Soundgarden song. The album is stacked.

This is the album that has two of the four Aretha Franklin songs that you know (Chain of Fools & Natural Woman). I was expecting to really love the album. But when it was over (it's only half an hour), I was a little disappointed. I didn't think it was bad. Aretha is in fine form. And I know Jerry Wexler is a legend of a producer. But I didn't hear anything in the song arrangements or the playing that I felt rose to the same level as the Stax or Motown recordings of the same period. The songs written for Aretha/the album (Chain of Fools, Natural Woman, Since You've Been Gone, and Ain't No Way) all sound vital. The covers (Money Won't Change You, People Get Ready, Come Back Baby, and Groovin') all sound like filler. This is a rare occasion when I wish there were half-stars. I don't think the album warrants a 4-star rating. But 3-stars feels a bit low. I wish there had been more of the fresh new songs, and less of the filler covers. The singles are great. The album is mid.

I don't know if I'll listen to it again. But it was good.

Not the best Alice Cooper album, but a very good Alice Cooper album.

21st Century Schizoid Man is right. This opening track is so anxiety inducing, with its breakneck tempo, start-stop beats, frantic guitar bursts, counter-melodic bass, and bop jazz horn flourishes. The comedown of I Talk To The Wind is so welcome after the seven minute onslaught of Schizoid Man. The rest of the album plays out like a dose of Prozac. It's mostly low-key and understated until the final track, The Court of the Crimson King. But it all feels deliberate too. It's very well laid out; and it does feel like a masterwork. Even if it does (unsurprisingly) sound a bit like Emerson, Lake & Palmer in spots. I liked it. Would do again.

So I drop the needle on this album and the first thing I hear is the main sample from Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It. Good start. Of course, the song, We Are Family is a titanic hit. It's all kinda one groove until the last couple of tracks. But it's a good groove.

Sounds like The Cure and Depeche Mode had a baby. The album is solid throughout. Would do again.

There's a misconception that the Beach Boys didn't make good albums after Pet Sounds. It's fair to say that The Beach Boys never made another singular album-length statement of brilliance like Pet Sounds again. But there are a lot of good albums and great songs that followed for at least ten years after that high-water mark. Surf's up is one of those good albums. Yes, you'll have to suffer through the preachy "Don't Go Near the Water", and Mike Love's near-parody re-imagining of "Riot in Cell Block #9", in "Student Demonstration Time". And "Take a Load Off Your Feet" is typical of the kinda-baffling health-conscious tracks that Brian Wilson would pepper into latter Beach Boys records. But if you can sift through the album's flaws, you'll be treated to Brian's classic title track, which stands with the best songs that the band recorded post-Pet Sounds. Carl Wilson and Bruce Johnston also stepped up to the plate and delivered two other period highlights. Disney Girls is a lovely piece of nostalgic melancholy from Johnston, who didn't write many songs for the Beach Boys; but when he did write, he batted at a very high average. And Carl's first major statement as a writer in the Beach Boys came in the breathtakingly swirly Feel Flows. The beautiful song is the beginning of a much larger writing presence that Carl would have on future Beach Boys albums. Sadly, there's not a lot of Dennis Wilson on Surf's Up. I have a soft spot for Dennis' contributions to Beach Boys albums of the period. And I miss him here. So as a whole, Surf's Up is far from a perfect album. And when inevitably compared to Pet Sounds, it falls terribly short. But what doesn't come up short when compared to Pet Sounds? When the dust settles, Surf's Up is a good Beach Boys album that features singular statements from each Beach Boy, save for Dennis. Some of it is great. Some of it is good. Some of it is terrible. But I welcome it in the Beach Boy's rich canon of albums.

Alright, what do we have today. Oh, some socially conscious raps. Let's see: The oil industry World economic policy Civil rights The Berlin Wall Illegal Immigration Abortion rights Capitol punishment Freedom of speech Social apathy Corporate bailouts Hong Kong reverting to China Control of the Panama Canal Fundamentalism Religion The US justice system Flag burning Okay, now let's check out the second track... This is awesome. The beats are straightforward and uncluttered. The flow is a bit stream-of-consciousness. The MC is deeply indebted to the style of Chuck D. A lot of it asks more questions than it provides answers or even commentary. So at times it feels more like a social checklist than it does a social commentary. But holy smokes, if Music and Politics isn't he most personal, soul-bearing, transparent and heartbreaking prose I've heard in a long long time. I really loved this.

Ugh. Sooooo boring. Soooo long.

This is another of the 1001 albums that was a hit in Europe, but never really landed in the US. I don't feel that I missed much. It's a pretty bland hip-hop production. And the CD version runs well over an hour. I guess you had to be there.

Context is important. I'm sure that in 1978, Real Life was a wildly innovative record. In 2024, it sounds like a very average post-punk album. The addition of keyboard is both interesting and mildly jarring. The music is perfectly serviceable. But I don't think I'll be revisiting the album anytime soon.

Though I was raised the the classic rock tradition, I was never deep into Deep Purple. But Machine Head is a phenomenal hard rock album. Anyone who's turned on a radio or walked into a guitar store has heard Smoke of the Water, which became the centerpiece of the record. On one hand, good for Deep Purple. On the other hand, it's really the weakest track on the otherwise excellent album. It does, however, feature a very strong and confident Ian Gillian vocal. Highway Star and Space Truckin' are the other relatively well-known songs on Machine Head. Highway Star is one of the ultimate driving jams. The song was built for the highway. It rocks. It swings. It has a filthy keyboard break from Jon Lord. Oh, and it has a great neo-classical multi-tracked guitar solo with Richie Blackmore harmonizing with himself. It's one of those songs that just feels great driving down the highway in the summer with your windows rolled down. Space Truckin' is another heavy groove and a great jam. But the real star of Machine Head is the lesser known Maybe I'm a Leo. It's more straightforward than the other showpieces on the album. But the guitar riff, doubled by Roger Glover on bass guitar, is both heavy and catchy. The drums are rudimentary, but also driving, and so heavy. Ian Paice is hitting the drums hard! The guitar solos are great too. And check that groove on Never Before. The way the guitar delicately weaves through that intro bit is so subtle and effective. What a great album.

Listening to Chelsea Girl is a strange trip. On one hand, you have a perfectly pleasant production from Tom Wilson, hot off of Bob Dylan's Bringing it All Back Home album, and Like a Rolling Stone single, and Simon & Garfunkel's career-making Sound of Silence single. You also have half of the album being written and performed by the Velvet Underground, several more songs written and performed by a young Jackson Browne. On the other hand, you have Nico, who, as a vocalist, leaves much to be desired. Her voice is husky; her pitch is shaky. And she sings in a very stiff German accent. It's a jarring juxtaposition. The album is haunting in its execution. The music sounds pretty, despite the downbeat tempos and moody atmospheres. The vocals are joyless and lacking in melody or soul. It's just a weird album. Maybe that's the point. But when the dust settles, it's not really that interesting. joyless vocals

How did they make these sounds in 1978? There are lots of pitch-shifting effects throughout. It sounds like there is a lot of tape manipulation going on. All of the instruments are distorted or processed in some twisted manner. Some bits sound totally out of tune. The barely-melodic half-sung, half-spoken vocals, and unusual song arrangements point way forward to band(s) like Primus, and perhaps very early Devo. It's a lot to take in. But the runtime is short. So it's not a chore to run through this a couple of times. That's a good thing, because this gets better with each listen. But be advised; this is a weird, weird record.

I loved this. I was aware of The Cramps from the Bad Music For Bad People album cover that you see on t-shirts everywhere. But for some reason, I'd never been exposed to the music. But this is the kind of garage punk that I can sink my teeth into. Songs The Lord Taught Us is deeply indebted to 1950s rock, 1960s garage rock, r&b and surf, 1970s punk, and classic Universal Monster movies. I love the lo-fi sound. I love the energy. I love the obvious influence of Link Wray. I want to hear more.

This is, by far, the weirdest Sugar Ray album.

It’s the best Simon & Garfunkel album.

I don't really have the palate to appreciate this. It's not my cup of tea at all.

Still tons of fun

Above average post-punk. It's pretty poppy actually.

I was there when Oasis was the biggest band on the planet. And I still don't get it. The lyrics are trite to the point of sounding like parody. The music is inoffensive, if not memorable. I did eventually like some of the later Oasis albums, when they didn't sound like they were trying so hard. But Morning Glory is still mid to me, at best.

I was listening at work, so it was hard to hear/digest the lyrics. But I loved the flow, and I'm a sucker for this type of hard-hitting, minimalist production. It's hard as hell.

This was the first REM music that I remember hearing on the radio. I still have an affinity for it.

I like this. These beats are firmly planted in the late 1980s/early 1990s. But the sampling and the aesthetic go back much further, more reminiscent of the 1960s. It definitely sounds like it was built for a party in the club. Lots of fun from start to finish.

Sure, it's overexposed cheese. But heck if it isn't syrupy as hell. Inoffensive ear-worms, solid pop craft, and the Heil Talkbox. It's hard to deny Frampton Comes Alive.

The album starts off with a banger that makes you want to move your body. And it holds its momentum straight into the next track. But eventually, throughout the course of the album, the music takes a turn, and becomes very unsettling. Dig Your Own Hole is an apt title for the set; the further down you go, the darkness becomes more dense. The album becomes an audio assault. The beats hit super hard, and the drums are red-lining for a solid hour. I think I could have handled this in smaller bites. But by the end, my ears were waving the white flag.

If you asked an artificial intellegence to create a goth-rock album, this is what it would come up with, right down to the cover art. The drum programming is super boring. And the whole thing has kinda one gear. Hard pass.

Sooooo long. Sooooo boring. I'd rather be listening to any of these people's main bands. The best parts sound like The Flying Burrito Brothers. The other 60 minutes plod on to nowhere.

Oh, cool. The other good Coldplay album. I still really love the first two albums. I still really don't care for anything that followed. They did kind of front-load this album with all of the best songs. But it doesn't matter. It's still a memorable album with a great set of songs. Every church band sounded like this for the next 15-20 years.

This is a vibe. It sounds like a lot of things that I like. And yet, I didn't find myself loving this. It moves along at a very slow and deliberate pace, which is also fine. But the music and songs never seem to rise above its downbeat to midtempo heartland rock groove shackles. It's like somebody tacked a bunch of Pink Floyd song intros to a batch of Jackson Browne tracks, and drenched it in a ton of reverb, to drive home the point that you're listening to a very moody album. None of it stuck for me.

It may sound weird, but I discovered this album before I was aware of The Smiths. It was my formal introduction to Morrissey; and it's still my favorite of his solo albums. The obvious highlights are Suedehead, and Everyday is Like Sunday. But those are really just pillars, holding up a great set of songs. Break Up the Family is equally great, as is I Don't Mind If You Forget Me. There's a distinct sound that I associate with producer Stephen Street that we only get from Morrissey on Viva Hate, and a handful of singles from the period. By the time Morrissey made his next studio album, he'd settled on a completely different sound. The albums that followed are great too. But Morrissey never made another Viva Hate. It's a very special snapshot of the transitional period between The Smiths, and later sounds that Morrissey's muse would follow.

Siouxsie Sioux sounds like Kate Pierson from the B-52s; except it sounds like she isn't having any fun at all. The guitars are cold and soulless, lacking midrange warmth, and drenched in modulation, ensuring that it always sounds unsettling. I don't mind mopey bands and all; but I did not have any fun listening to this.

This was part of that perfect run of albums that Bob Dylan had from May 1963 to June 1966 that included The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, The Times They Are A-changin', Another Side of Bob Dylan, Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, and Blonde on Blonde. We listened to Blonde on Blonde a little over a week ago. And I wish we'd listened to Highway 61 before that: not just because it comes first chronologically. But also because Highway 61 kinda pales next to Blonde on Blonde. But regardless, Highway 61 Revisited is a fabulous album on its own merits. It has Like a Rolling Stone, which is probably Dylan's most important song. This is also the Dylan album that Mike Bloomfield plays on. And we get treated to lots of his frantic guitar bursts throughout. There's rollicking fun in Tombstone Blues, Queen Jane Approximately, and Highway 61 Revisited (who decided to include the fireman's whistle in Highway 61? It is genius). There's the moody minor key Ballad of a Thin Man. For the acoustic Dylan acolytes, there's the eleven-minute Desolation Row, closing out the album. As far as the early batch of electric Dylan albums go, I prefer Blonde on Blonde, and the first side of Bringing It All Back Home, over Highway 61 Revisited. But I love Bob Dylan; and that entire six album run from 1963-1966 are all five-star albums for me. Highway 61 is still essential listening.

Lauren Hill is legit. I don't get as excited about The Score as a lot of people. But Lauren Hill's style and lyricism is undeniable. And she can sing! The whole Fugees package doesn't do much for me. But did I mention that Lauren Hill is awesome?

I know this is a touchstone record for a lot of people. But I just can't get into it. Smooth Operator is a great song; and Your Love is King is mild fun. But 45 minutes of smooth jazz just isn't my bag.

I like Sweetheart of the Rodeo a lot. I like the Byrds. I'm also a Bob Dylan fan, I like the Louvin' Brothers, & Merle Haggard too. And I'm a fan of a lot of bands that this album influenced. It was the first time that most people heard Gram Parsons; and it's one of the first commercial examples of a country-rock album. There's a lot to like here, or at least, a lot to observe. It's fun to imagine putting this album on in 1968, and hearing the first commercially released versions of You Ain't Goin' Nowhere and Nothing Was Delivered, two new Bob Dylan songs that he'd recorded with The Band on the Basement Tapes, but wouldn't be released in that form for several years yet. The country and folk covers are fun (I Am A Pilgrim, The Christian Life, Pretty Boy Floyd, Life in Prison). But the two Gram Parsons songs (Hickory Wind & 100 Years From Now) are the real standouts on the album. This was the only Byrds album that Gram Parsons was on; and then we was off starting the Flying Burrito Brothers. So that makes Sweetheart of the Rodeo a really odd and fascinating crossroads for the Byrds. They never made another album like it. But I'm glad that it exists.

Not feeling it

Man, it's Zeppelin 4. This album is seared into my cortex. Most of it was still getting constant FM radio airplay when I was a kid. It was one of the first CDs I bought. I listened to it over and over and over. There's not much else I can squeeze out of this one. When the Levee Breaks is still one of the dopest drum beats ever. For all his talents, I think John Bonham's greatest attribute was his restraint. The beat is so skeletal and deliberate. But it still has Bonham's signature right foot, going where no other drummer would take the song. A lesser drummer would have played a lot more, and sounded a lot less. Misty Mountain Hop is rollicking fun. It's been years since I've listened to the album as a piece. MMH was the highlight of this spin. Everything is just firing perfectly here. Everyone gets a featured break; and they're all great. The song is a driving masterpiece. I've always loved Four Sticks too. In fact, I think I like the second side of this album even more than side one. And think about that; the A-side has Black Dog, Rock and Roll, and of course, Stairway to Heaven. This is just a fantastic album from the top, down. It has to be one of the best hard rock albums ever.

Not as good as the first album

This was the most important album in my life when I was 14. It was one of the first CDs that I owned, and I loved it to death. Some of these songs still get played on the radio. But admittedly, I had not stopped to absorb the entire album as a single piece in many, many years. This time through, for a little different experience, I watched the 2007 video release of the album. It runs the same songs through the same order, but includes additional banter between the songs that was trimmed for the original album release. Everything is still in place, just as I remembered it. I still knew all of the banter from the album by heart. It was a real treat to get the little bit of extra context from the video version. The music is ubiquitous at this point. There's not really much left to say about it. I don't reach for this album often at all. But I'll never get rid of my copy. The song selection is astounding, if counter-intuitive at the time. It's very interesting that for their big MTV Unplugged performance, of the 14 songs they chose to perform, only two of them had previously been Nirvana singles. Six of the songs are covers. The rest are deeper cuts from the three proper studio albums. It all works; and it makes for a live album that is an essential piece of the band's catalog.

I've never been a fan of Solomon Burke. This listen didn't change my mind either. I'm sure this is the bee's knees for some. And I can definitely hear his influence on vocalists that I do enjoy. But Solomon Burke still isn't for me.

Two Nirvana albums in one week? Awesome! Nevermind was my first favorite album that had nothing to do with the music that my parents were listening to. I remember ordering the cassette tape from the Columbia House record club. And I listened to it do death on my Walkman. I could listen to the entire album on my bus ride to and from school. So I heard Nevermind twice a day for months. Apart from a random stack of teenage-era anecdotes, it's hard for me today to put this record into any kind of context, historical or otherwise. It's been written about to death. And it became so ubiquitous, then subsided, then re-surged. Of course, it's an incredibly important album. And it was huge at the time. But I remember this time in the late 1990s. Boy bands and girl groups had kind of taken over pop music. But I still loved Nirvana. I was at a company Christmas party, and there was a dancefloor and a DJ. He was playing the pop songs of the day. But my friend and I noticed that Smells Like Teen Spirit was on the list of songs the DJ had. We kept bugging the DJ and requesting Teen Spirit; but he wasn't having it. He was DJing a pretty decent party with a pretty active dancefloor, and he didn't need a couple of kids mucking up his flow. But toward the night, after constant prodding, the DJ finally spun Smells Like Teen Spirit. As soon as that first chord hit, my friend and I jumped up and ran to the dance floor. And the dance floor, that had been so active all night, very suddenly emptied. And my friend and I moshed on an empty dance floor, slamming into each-other for five minutes. And then the party was over. And grunge seemed truly dead. But of course, I got old, and Nevermind became a big deal again, as these cyclical pop culture phenomenons do. Nevermind is evergreen. I hadn't listened to the album in a long time. I don't even own a cassette player anymore; but I still own that Nevermind cassette tape. And I'll probably never get rid of it. So today, I had to stream it. And I'm glad to say, that Nevermind holds up. The album is almost exactly how I remembered it. The sequence of the first side is seared into my brain. And I remember Territorial Pissings opening the second side after flipping over that old tape. But weirdly, I had mostly forgotten about later tracks like Lounge Act, and Stay Away. I could argue that these are the two least interesting songs on the album. But it was still nice to be surprised by something that I thought was so ingrained into my consciousness. It's still hard to contextualize this, especially in such a short space. But on its own merits, Nevermind is still great: even if I love it more today for its personal significance than for the music itself.

It still sounds better than anything their peers were doing in 1987.

This is the first of many comeback LPs that U2 would release. They reinvented themselves for the 1990s, and it's an effective move. The album still holds up.

It's Back in Black. You know it by heart.

Beck has a lot of sides. It's always lots of fun to listen to him being irreverent, and mashing genres into each other. But the non-ironic Beck albums are the ones that really stick. And Sea Change is one of those albums. These are story songs. And the story is that Beck is sad. The instrumentation is live. The album is free of samples, drum machines, or other forms of programming. The songs are mostly downbeat; and Beck's voice is earnest, and forward in the mix. Beck has made a lot of great albums. But for better or worse, some of them sound like products of their time. Sea Change remains timeless, and stands as the Beck album that holds up best to repeated listening.

At first, I really liked 1977. But it was really long, and sort of stayed in one punky alt-rock lane. Why did albums in the 1990s all have to be an hour long? The exception that proves the rule is Weezer. Those first three albums are just a half-hour of power. All killer, no filler. Ash could have shaved a couple of redundant tracks off of this album and came away with better record, just by virtue of it not overstaying its welcome. I might listen to the first half of the album again someday.

Bringing it all Back Home is another of my favorite Bob Dylan records. The A-side famously kicked off his electric period, as far as studio recordings are concerned. And it absolutely rips. It opens with the hilariously irreverent Subterranean Homesick Blues, which also would later become one of the first music videos, when DA Pennebaker filmed Dylan in an alley, indexing through cards displaying many of the song's lyrics, in his seminal documentary film, Don't Look Back. The showpiece of the electric side is Maggie's Farm. It's a raucous blues vamp that sounds like total anarchy. It would have been the closet thing to punk-rock in 1965. It is loud and scathing. And it's not surprising that the sound, if not the content, was offensive to the ears of the people who first got to hear Dylan's electric band at that year's Newport Folk Festival, where he was heartily booed, and where conjecture has it that folk legend Pete Seeger wanted to cut the power cord with an axe during Dylan's set. And as incredible as the electric pleasures of the A-side are, the B-side of Bringing it all Back Home is equally, if not even more amazing. It's a 20-minute set consisting of Mr Tambourine Man, Gates of Eden, It's Alright Ma, and the poignant It's All Over Now Baby Blue, which feels like a final piss-off to the folk music revival, and to anyone who would place expectations on Dylan's art, or who would try to place him into a box. From here on, Dylan would not, and could not, be pinned down. Bringing It All Back Home is a wonderful snapshot of that transition.

The first RAGE album is an unmatched classic. Never before or since have rap and rock been been merged with such excellence. There's not a dud track on the record. It's all killer, and all killer.

This album is like someone took a knife, edgy and dull, and cut a six-inch valley through the middle of your skull.

Far from the best Creedence album. But it contains the essential tracks, Born on the Bayou and Proud Mary. The album tracks are perfectly fine, and the cover of Good Golly Miss Molly is okay. And running a short and sweet 33 minutes, the album doesn't overstay its welcome. I love that about the Creedence albums. They came in rapid succession; but they were all short bursts of greatness.

Imagine if you will: a band featuring members of The Cars, The Talking Heads, and David Johansen’s band, fronted by the troubadour from There’s Something About Mary. And that’s literally The Modern Lovers. These were supposedly all demo recordings, never meant for public consumption. But there are some bonafide bangers on this record. Roadrunner was made famous via a Sex Pistols cover. But this original version is the superior take on the song. And Pablo Picasso was, of course, never called an asshole. A lot of different versions of the album were released over the years. So not every version contains I’m Straight, which is sad for people who don’t own those versions of the album. Is it the first straight-edge declaration in rock music? I believe it is. The whole thing is a fascinating document. It sounds like a band accidentally inventing punk and new wave, while looking through the lenses of the Velvet Underground and The Doors. And the whole thing is gloriously uncool. Just wonderfully out of step with the time when it was written and recorded. Or any time really. I can’t think of any era where a mass public elevates something like The Modern Lovers. It’s too personal, too sensitive, too specific. And of course that’s what makes it great. And it’s exactly why this album should be better known by the public at large.

I mean, c'mon. It's arguably the best album by The Band. But any album with The Weight, Tears of Rage, I Shall Be Released, Chest Fever, This Wheel's On Fire, and Long Black Veil is probably going to be anybody's best album.

Such a great debut album.

Hard Day's night is significant for being the first Beatles album where all of the songs were written by the Beatles. And even though they would go on to make much better albums, A Hard Day's Night would be the best album in nearly any other band's catalog. It's the culmination of the sappy romantic Beatles period. And it gives the first peeks into what they would soon become on albums like Rubber Soul and Revolver. I never reach for this album. But I don't get mad when it's on.

It's probably my favorite Beatles album, if I'm being honest with myself. I studied the side two medley when I was a kid. It still thrills.

Wish You Were Here is not the best Pink Floyd album. But it is the most accessible of all Pink Floyd albums. It consists of four songs; and three of them became FM radio staples (Welcome to the Machine, Have a Cigar, and Wish You Were Here). The fourth song (Shine on You Crazy Diamond) is 26 minutes long, and is wisely split into two tracks that bookend the album. Conceptually, Wish You Were Here is also one of the least dense Floyd records. The songs are split between sorrowful odes to their fallen leader, Syd Barrett (SOYCD and the title track), and scathing stabs at the music industry (Welcome & Cigar). The music is engaging; and apart from Shine On, the songs are relatively concise. The tracks about Syd are earnest and heartfelt. The tracks about "the machine" are cold and cynical. But on the whole, the album doesn't overstay its welcome. And if ever Pink Floyd was making deliberate moves for radio, it's here in the title track, and Have a Cigar. Wish You Were Here doesn't have the lingering impact of Dark Side of the Moon, or The Wall; but it is probably the best entry point to Pink Floyd fandom. And that's good enough.

I love the Smiths. But before I loved the Smiths, I loved Morrissey's solo records. Call me weird. Vauxhall and I is considered by many to be among the best of Morrissey's solo albums. And it's hard to argue against that. The songs are uniformly strong from start to finish. Now my Heart is Full is a wonderful melodramatic opener. Side A also has the barnburner, Billy Budd, the anthemic Hold On to Your Friends, and one of Morrissey's best-known and poppiest tracks: The More You Ignore Me, the Closer I Get. It's so poppy, in fact, that you might miss that it's written from the very creepy perspective of a stalker. The second side is also above average. The whole album comes off as perhaps Morrissey's most complete statement as a solo artist. And it's the first of Morrisey's more "mature" albums. The whole thing is really, really good.

How do you think Pete Townshend does it? What makes him so good?

It's hard to be subjective when listening to Hotel California. The whole thing is so overplayed. It could be a work of genius. I'm just sick of hearing it. I still like Joe Walsh though.

I was so in the tank for this record and the Sun Giant EP when they were contemporary. It's been a while since I've given the album a listen. It's not as great as I remember; but it is still very good. The harmonies, arrangements and production are reminiscent of the Beach Boys, Crosby Stills & Nash, and Simon & Garfunkel. It was unique and fresh at the time; but in hindsight, the album is kind of stuck in one (very good) gear. Hearing it again reminds me of 2008, for better or worse.

It's hard to pick a favorite Nirvana album. But Serve the Servants is among my favorite Kurt Cobain lyrics (Teenage angst has paid off well; now I'm old and bored. I tried so hard to have a father; but instead I had a dad.) Scentless Apprentice is among my favorite Dave Grohl drum parts. The oft underrated Krist Novoselic does a lot of heavy lifting, especially on Pennyroyal Tea. And the whole album represents Kurts best guitar sounds, achieved with the help of engineer/producer, Steve Albini. In Utero sound is decidedly abrasive, its lyrics are dark; and as such, it had the bare minimum number of songs that could have gotten regular play on the radio. But it remains among the band's best work.

GYBR is the artistic peak for Elton John. It's the culmination of his early classic period. And he would never quite reach this height, despite a lot of quality work to follow. The album runs nearly 80 minutes; and there's not a skippable track from start to finish.

There are some really classic Led Zeppelin radio staples on Physical Graffiti. And there are plenty of great album cuts. But on the whole, Physical Graffiti suffers from double-LP bloat. As a set of recordings, it doesn't feel as unified in sound or theme as the Zeppelin LPs that came before it. And there are enough lesser tracks present to make me wish that they'd trimmed about 20-minutes off of this 80+ minute double album. It would have been a stronger album. The core songs here are excellent.

I love McCartney. I know the album takes a lot of criticism for sounding kind of homemade and low-key compared to Paul's work in The Beatles. But when digested apart from the work of the fab four, the smaller scope of McCartney is actually very charming, and downright contagious. The songs are great. They continue in the vein of later Paul McCartney compositions from the White Album through the end of the Beatles. And as such, the album is a great companion to Let it Be, which would be released less than a month later. Songs like That Would Be Something, Every Night, Man We Was Lonely are book-ended by interstitial bits and song fragments that keep the album's laid-back momentum softly rolling. It all builds up to the album's lasting masterpiece, Maybe I'm Amazed, which is possibly Paul McCartney's best and most enduring recording as a solo artist. It's a summation of everything I love about McCartney. It's a (silly) love song. Paul gets to be tender. Paul gets to shout (he's maybe the most underrated shouter in rock). And Paul gets to rip on guitar. It's dynamic. And it's beautiful. The entire album is a short 35 minutes, which is great. It may not be all-killer, no-filler; but it doesn't overstay its welcome either. It's casual enough to sound like a side-project. But it's earnest enough to warrant serious repeat listening. The whole stretch of 1968-1971 is just a fantastic period for Paul McCartney's songwriting and recording. And his first solo album is definitely a jewel in that crown.

This is the forth album that Johnny Cash recorded with Rick Rubin and American Recordings. And it was the last album released during his lifetime. The American Recordings represented a late career renaissance for Johnny Cash. His association with Rick Rubin restored his long-lost cultural relevance, introduced a new generation to Johnny Cash, and reminded the rest of us of why he was so great. The first album in the series stripped everything back to Johnny Cash and his (hot and blue) guitar. It was an inspired move, and an inspired set of songs. It represented his best recorded set of material since the 1950s, and reignited his relevance. On the second album, JC was backed by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. It was another inspired move, with another great set of songs that included Cash originals, old standards, and unexpected new classics, re-imagined by Rubin and Cash. Starting with the third album in the American Series, Cash settled into a rhythm of cutting albums with a few original songs, a few standards, a few forgotten gems from bygone eras, and a whole lot of pop songs from the previous twenty years. He made these records with a who's who of Rick Rubin's famous associates. The song selections were intriguing, and Cash put his stamp on every recording. But American III is also the point where Cash's albums became less essential listening, and more novelty. The edge was less cutting. The element of surprise was gone. And the albums, on the whole, were more uneven. This is the lane where we find The Man Comes Around. Most people will note that this is the record that contains Cash's poignant interpretation of Nine Inch Nails' Hurt. And it is a chilling recording, with a dynamic build, and a thrilling crescendo. Cash truly makes it his own. And just like we believed him in 1955 when he sang that he shot a man in Reno just to watch him die, we believe and feel this tale of loss and abuse. And it's well-documented that he actually did live the subject matter of the song. Everything is firing here; and it's a high water mark in the recorded output of Johnny Cash. The rest of the album is a grab bag of Cash originals (The Man Comes Around, Give My Love to Rose, Tear Stained Letter), standards (The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, Danny Boy, We'll Meet Again), and a whole lotta open-mic fodder (Bridge Over Troubled Water, In My Life, Desperado). It's the last category that really brings American IV down to average album territory. There's no real interesting reason to hear Cash sing a more-or-less straight cover of Bridge Over Troubled Water. And hearing the usually great Fiona Apple duet with Cash, was certainly more of a thrill for Fiona Apple than it is for the listener. Elsewhere, duets with Don Henley and Nick Cave also weigh down the track list; and the guest appearances add nothing interesting to the songs or the album as a whole. The rest of the album is fine, but inessential. Cash's voice is beginning to quiver in a way that reminds the listener that he doesn't have much time left. Unfortunately, that is the most interesting thing about American IV. His failing voice really works for him in songs like Hurt, Give My Love To Rose, and I Hung My Head. But the rest of the recordings range from serviceable, to skippable. In the end, the Man Comes Around is not a bad album. But it's also not one of Cash's best.

5 out of 4 stars.

I don't like Blood on the Tracks as much as other fans of Bob Dylan. But the lore is strong. The story goes that Bob Dylan recorded an album's worth of songs in New York. The arrangements were sparse and simple. He played the album for his brother, who convinced him to re-record it with a full band. Half of the finished album ended up being from the original New York sessions. The other half was from the full band sessions in Minneapolis. Blood on the Tracks was released and became a fan favorite. Over the years, the original New York recordings trickled out on bootleg releases, Dylan's Biograph boxed set, his original Bootleg Series boxed set, and finally, the More Blood, More Tracks boxed set. I've never been a big fan of Blood on the Tracks as it was officially released. I think it's kind of a mid Bob Dylan release. But in true Dylan fashion, the outtakes from from the sessions are a minor revelation. I prefer the organic arrangements of the New York versions of these songs. And some of the songs that didn't end up on the album are as good or better than some of the songs that did make the cut. Check out Up to Me from Biograph. It's musically similar enough to Shelter From the Storm to understand why it wasn't selected for the official album. But it's a heck of a lot more personal, intimate and compelling than something like Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts. Unfortunately, on its own merits, I don't love Blood on the Tracks. I don't see it as the stone-cold-classic that it's regarded as. I think that makes me a bad Bob Dylan fan. For this period of Dylan's music, I'd much rather listen to the next years' Desire. And when I want my Blood on the Tracks fix, I reach for More Blood, More Tracks.

When I say I like the New York Dolls, you best believe I like the New York Dolls: LYK.