A masterpiece of contradictions. Bowie hitting rock bottom in Los Angeles and plotting a return to Europe; flirting with fascism, Christianity, and the occult, seemingly all at once; yearning for love, begging for one night stands, and bunking up with his television.
A classic album that dominated pop and rock radio throughout 1984 and 1985, Born in the USA continues to provide a clear-eyed view of America's fading middle class. Its thematic consistency is never overstated; a presence throughout the upbeat songs as much as in the drearier tracks.
The hits (including the title track, Glory Days, I'm on Fire, and the irrepressible Dancing in the Dark) continue to stand on their own two feet, but it was a joy to reconnect with deeper cuts, like Downtown Train and Bobby Jean -- both crushingly sad and sympathetic character studies that play to Springsteen's greatest strength as a writer.
That having been said, in fitting with its era, the production is over the top. In particular, Springsteen's fascination with synths and organs quickly overstays its welcome. Younger listeners may struggle to work past this, but its absolutely worth the challenge.
Although White Rabbit and Somebody to Love are the clear standout tracks, listeners may be surprised to realize how diverse this album is, featuring not only psychedelia, but also healthy doses of blues and hippy love songs. Through the modern lens, this may feel like an antiquated mix, but it's a welcome relief to anyone who is more familiar with the latter-era output of this group (and its associated offshoots). One has to imagine that it was a mind blowing listen upon its release in 1967.
The overall aesthetic isn't really to my taste; I'd prefer to give it a 3.5, but in the absence of a half star option, I'm giving it a generous 4 stars.
For those (like me) who are only familiar with Drake's Pink Moon, Five Leaves Left is a revelation of Drake's breadth of work. Most obviously, it is a sonically distinct album, not only due to the the instrumentation (including string arrangements, piano, flute, cello, and marimbas) but also as a consequence of its production, which yields a brighter and sound.
That having been said, I found several of the production choices to be dated and heavy handed. Certain choices -- most notably the string arrangements throughout and the unfortunate flute on The Thoughts of Mary Jane -- feel like a clumsy attempt at breaking through on AM radio. Yet, the crystal clear audio on Three Hours makes the track far more gorgeous than it would have been if it had been recorded for Pink Moon, and unlike Pink Moon, I can actually understand most of the lyrics to this album.
Drake's songwriting feels more whimsical here. It is not without its moments of glum introspection, but the album is possessed by a hippie air, sometimes feeling like a cousin to Fairport Convention (in fact, Richard Thompson was a session musician on this album), other times reminiscent of Cat Stevens.
Despite any misgivings about the album's overall aesthetic, listeners will be rewarded by pushing through to the closing track. Saturday Sun is a legitimate jazz tune, and it is a rare moment on the album where everything seems to have found its proper place. Without it, this might be only a three star album to me, but I believe it warrants a full star all to itself.
Although I realize that Radiohead's albums have enjoyed widespread critical and commercial success, I continue to struggle to enjoy their music, and, unfortunately, my first full and focused listen to Kid A did not change that.
There is an undeniable artistry to the band's soundscapes; they are deeply evocative and ethereal, yet they often feel like incomplete compositions -- as though they need to be partnered with a different element, such as a movie soundtrack or an art installation to achieve their mission. To that end, they can seem to plod and downshift the momentum of the album.
It should be said that when Radiohead can allow itself to embrace a semi-traditional song structure (such as on tracks like "How to Disappear Completely" or "Optimistic") the album hits a fine gear. But those moments are just too rare to hold the album together for a listener like me, and Yorke's mewling vocal affect only seems to create greater distance between them.
It is challenging to give an appropriate star rating to such a seminal album that fails to reach me as a listener. I feel pressure to give it five stars "just because" but my three star review is the most authentically generous rating I can provide. At the end of the day, I can't honestly say that Kid A is a bad album, but I am certain that I am unable to enjoy it.
This album is a phenomenon.
If you're a Smash Hits fan, you'll recognize several tracks, but the real joy is exploring the deeper cuts. "Have You Ever Been", "Burning of the Midnight Lamp", and the better known "Crosstown Traffic" emerge as deeper expressions of soul music than I ever realized Jimi ever did (and perhaps the reason the first two aren't better known, as they may have unfortunately been deemed "too black" for white radio at that moment in time).
Meanwhile, Jimi's tone -- most especially on Voodoo Chile -- is otherworldly, making the 15 minute track less of a single and more of an incantation.
Is the album too long? Yes, a little.
Is "Little Miss Strange" little more than filler to keep the band happy? Yes.
Do tracks like "1983" and "Voodoo Chile" force you to work for your reward? They sure do.
Does any of that cause me to reduce my star ranking? Somehow, the answer is no.
This album takes some work, but it's absolutely worth it. This is the full evolution of the Experience, possibly the greatest peek into Hendrix's untapped potential.
What you see is what you get from Motorhead. Will it be dynamic? No. Will it blow you away with songcraft? Probably not. Is it a master class in consistency? Yes, it is. Top to bottom, this band is fast, tight, and powerful.
If you don't love fast, loud music, this album won't be for you. But the execution of the formula is as good as any band has ever done.
Small deductions offered for a small handful egregiously sloppy sound edits.
A very fun and silly album that owes a great deal to the Beatles and even more to the Kinks. The Small Faces always had the ability to blend melody with power. There are certainly hints of their signature sound, but this album is clearly more rooted in a playful melodic orientation. Not my favorite of theirs', but I'm glad to have given it a shot. 3.5
Sometimes this exercise leads you to albums you never would have otherwise heard, and this is just one example.
Thirty seconds into this album, I was certain that it would be a strong pass for me. Experimental jazz-funk-soul fusion is not among my favorite genres, and Martyn seemed fully committed to making this funky album as strange as can be.
But in truth, this album won me over in a big way. It's a huge mood, full of danceable grooves, busy percussion, funky guitars, muted (but steamy) vocals, and weird guitar licks. Even more impressively, this album - which sounds more like an early 90s release than anything else - way ahead of its time, having been released in 1978!
I truly can't believe that I am four starring this album, but its undeniably committed to being funky, weird, and pretty. It would certainly be safer to make this statement ironically or self consciously, but Martyn comes off earnest and dedicated. This album is worth pushing your limits for.
In so many cases, rock music from around the globe can feel just a little bit off, as though people are trying to mimic American or British music, but not quite getting it right.
Western African rock is the exact opposite; the music has a deeply familiar feel to it, even when it sounds nothing like "Western" rock.
This is a huge part of the allure of Music in Exile. The aesthetic is deeply rooted in chants and drones, but it rarely strays from the cascading arpeggios and bouncy arrangements that makes West African rock sound so pretty and joyful.
This album was a joy to listen to. It isn't necessarily something I'll revisit, but I was pleased at what an easy and agreeable listen it was. 3.5/5
Zappa can be a bizarre and sometimes inaccessible artist, but Hot Rats is a surprisingly easy listen.
Make no mistake, this is a jazz album. It's not art rock, math rock, experimental rock, or any of the other cliche, poorly defined categories most commonly thrown towards Zappa. It's jazz, with fusion elements; highly melodic, and thoughtfully arranged.
Yes, it has the hallmarks of a lot of cliched funky music from the 70s, often called "porno music" but an active listen reveals outstanding musicianship and truly sophisticated arrangements that must have been charted out for the musicians.
This isn't my style of music and I don't imagine I'll listen to it again any time soon. But's is a solid, high quality release, worth of a full four stars.
I have never heard this album, or any album by Fishbone before, but I remember When they broke nationally, and I particularly recall an incendiary performance they put on the Arsenio Hall Show (if I remember Correctly, it was a very vamped up performance of the Rolling Stones’ “Shattered”). It was a wild frenzy of a performance, truly one of a kind.
While Truth and Soul does showcase the band’s speed, precision, and overall exuberance, the recorded atmosphere felt controlled and governed as compared to their live performance.
It’s a solid and ambitious album that blends styles with total confidence. But with their live act as my point of reference, I couldn't Help but to be slightly let down. Solid three stars.
It’s easy to take the Beatles’ breadth of output for granted, but With the Beatles takes us back to where the formula first gelled.
There’s a lot of saccharine pop here, some of it (like All I’ve Got to Do) is nearly indistinguishable from future British Invasion bands, which could adult be mistaken for a Gerry and the Pacemakers track. And, of course, this only underscores Lennon and McCartneys influence over their generation.
It is difficult to judge this album and not score it against the totally of the Beatles’ output. On its own, it demonstrates outstanding and ahead of its time pop songwriting skills, despite certain throwaway tracks (the cover of You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me is both forgettable and regrettable). But it’s otherwise a far cry from there the band’s talents and creativity would ultimately take it. As with the earliest records of so many legendary artists (the Stones, Bowie, Pink Floyd) it serves as a more insightful reference point than it does as a singular output.
3/5 stars
Although I clearly remember SFA achieving "next big thing" status among my friends, the truth is that I clearly never engaged with the band, as my expectations for Fuzzy Logic were a little bit off.
This is a solid rock album, liberally sprinkled with pop sensibilities. That said, as much as I enjoyed this album, some songs ran together in my head, and it will need a second listen to identify standout tracks. (Bad Behaviour being the major exception).
A solid album that deserves a second listen. 3/5
This album is many things: deeply earnest, impeccably produced, and teeming with tasteful instrumentation. But its identity might be best formed by what it is not.
It is not cynical. This album is not playful (with the exception of "Crippled Inside"). At the end of the day, it isn't very fun.
That's a significant departure from what so many of us loved about John Lennon -- the goofiness, the darkness, the slight of hand that disguised from listeners exactly how hard he was working and how much he cared about his art when he was in that other band of his.
That doesn't make Imagine a bad album at all. But it's a little bit more emotionally needy than what we are accustomed to from Lennon. That forces it to become an album that needs its own time and place.
An extra half star is added in recognition of King Curtis' sax and George Harrison's slide guitar.
3.5/5
This album comes out hot as hell with absolutely massive tracks. And, yet, soon thereafter, it loses steam due to thematic monotony and erratic production quality.
Make no mistake, the themes of Straight Outta Compton are both visceral and poignant to the untold scores of people who "don't know, don't show, or don't care about what's going on in the hood." But a listener can become nearly numb to it in time, which is a disservice to the message.
The inconsistent production is frustrating. At its best, this album sounds well ahead of its time, with the types of layered beats and samples that would soon become the norm. But others feel dated, elemental, and rudimentary. Traversing from one to the other is disappointing.
Admittedly, time has not treated the lyrical content well. Violence and misogyny are constant, and occasionally glorified. (Eazy E doth protest too much, methinks). Anyone who wasn't around for the dawn of this generation of hip-hop will likely find this more offensive than it was upon its release.
This could be a four star album if only they had tightened up and focused on the strongest tracks. Still, I struggle to make it less that 3.5. Even if you don't like the music or the lyrics, it is undoubtedly a document of it's time.
Is it REALLY a five star album?
No.
The indulgences of tracks like Wild Honey Pie and the much-maligned Revolution 9 honestly rob this album of its full potential. That said, focusing on the low points is exactly the wrong way of going about this album. It is otherwise a phenomenally consistent album; in fact, is we could do away with Wild Honey Pie, side one album one might be the best side of any album I've ever heard.
That said, you can't reward nonsense, so this comes in at a very secure 4.5
Gloria is a banger, but this is just not for me. I'm not saying it was not important or influential. It's just not for me. Because when you're checking the length of the track list during the third song to see how much longer you have to commit to an album, it's just not a fit.
TRex is a mood. Compared to his rival/friend David Bowie, there's just as much style, but there's far less substance. It doesn't really matter. This album is here to make you boogie
I own this album and have no memory of listening to it, which is a very bad sign. A re-listen reminds me why: while singles like "New Pollution" and "Devil's Haircut" pointed to a new, slick 1960s go-go boots stye, Beck is still a very immature artist here, pushing the boundaries of engineering and production in ways that sometimes work and sometimes come across as obnoxious and needlessly provocative. The standout tracks (Devil's Haircut, Where It's At, Jackass, Ramshackle, New Pollution) are simply outstanding, but the rest of the album lacks focus.
This is the sound of every college party worth going to in the mid/late 90s. Great flows, great beats, great sampling. the album would be a lot more fun if they'd toned down some of the violence in the lyrics. But all in all, its an easy listen from start to finish
Pink Floyd was truly untouchable for a few years, and this is an exceptional piece of work: lush, layered, and trippy, but also deeply sad and cynical. The only mark on WYWH is the indulgence of the final track, which could have made as much impact in half the time if only for greater artistic discipline.
This is Alice at his musical and artistic peak. If you were to form a venn diagram featuring David Bowie, The Who, and Frank Zappa, this album would sit within the precious overlap of them all. Arrangements throughout mess with the hard rock templates that Alice would eventually become beholden to; tracks like Hello Hooray and Elected still feel under-appreciated to this day. I only wish the album had a stronger close.
It's hard to know how this album will be remembered. On one hand, it introduced listeners to Dre's G-Funk style, Snoop's inimitable flow, and the portamento saw wave lead on synth. It is, at times, hard to remember a time when this wasn't a core influence on hip hop and that alone makes it important.
On the other hand, it's an incredibly juvenile album, full of Beavis-and-Butthead-style interludes and rhymes primarily about dicks and balls.
To that end, the whole thing is awfully embarrassing in spite of its most redeeming qualities. As with so many other things, it leaves you wondering if it could be released today, or if it would be considered too toxic and misogynistic.
I am not going to touch that specific debate, but I will say that even though I'm not much of a hip hop fan, I sure am glad that I was around to watch this all happen in 1993.
This is comfort listening for anyone past a certain age. While it's true that some of the flows feel antiquated and some of the lyrics might feel "corny" to younger audiences raised on harder edged hip hop (or duller edged mumble rap) the beats are undeniable, and the album just generally radiates an exuberance that's we could all use.
The album is too long with far too many tracks (a function of broader CD bloat at that moment in music), and the skits are kind of dumb, but I enjoyed this album a ton. Beats on Can You Keep a Secret and The Magic Number are total joy.
