A pet peeve of mine is documentaries featuring snotty punks from the ’70s claiming they saved music from the pretension and overindulgence of prog-rock—reducing the complex dynamics of culture, history, art, and creativity to the inane binarism of 'few chords = good, many chords = bad.' But now having listened to this album, I think I kind of get it.
I get the name. It must have taken blood, sweat and a lot of tears to labor over these convoluted compositions in the studio that are so devoid of life, spirit and originality.
"Ok boys it's a wrap, we've got a stone cold classic on our hands." "Wait, wait, what if.... bear with me, what if we add a whole extra album with over 30 minutes of nothing but directionless jam-wankery, but like with totally cool cats and we had a really cool time?" "Is there any enjoyment for the casual listener, who wasn't in the room, to be had?" "Little to none." "3 LP's it is!"
Underrated 60s gem, on par with classics which often appear at the top of lists.
Familiar with a lot of these songs from when it came out. Perfect production choices, very layered and obviously laboured over. Vocals outstanding as to be expected. 'Roads' a standout.
As the music and arrangements are at times pretty bland, this pretty much stands or falls with Cash's persona and the listener's buying into this outlaw schtick. I for one, find it at times contrived.
Hard to pinpoint, but an engrossing listen. As there are only two pieces around 20 minutes each, the build ups are quite rewarding - when that bassline kicks in at the 14 minute mark on the title track, or in Shhh/peaceful, when after pounding a closed hi-hat for around 9 minutes the drummer releases the pressure a bit and we get a single snare drum hit (I do not fully realize whether that was irony or not.)
First impression - not a fan of the vocal affectations. There are instances when the "cursive" singing is less prominent, which are more enjoyable to my ears. The music and arrangements are often quite enjoyable. Writer in the Dark epitomises this, the contrast between the verse and chorus - the exaggerated vocal fry and "writer" being pronounced as "roiydah" in the verse and then the lovely Kate Bush-esque chorus.
First couple of songs really show songwriters who've run out of ideas, trying to make up for it with wrapping underwritten, unfinished and ultimately uninteresting vamps in what they think are interesting or experimental arrangements (they're not) and an overinflated-ego-frontman vibin' over them. It does get better. One obviously a standout, Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses pretty good. Acrobat is a favorite. But there is so much filler here - Tryin' To Throw Your Arms ... doesn't go anywhere, nor does So Cruel. The singles The Fly, Mysterious Ways are so blatantly "90s" - trying to incorporate "modern" sounds and beats, but ultimately fail - U2 is not a band that grooves. Upon research, people like David Bowie, Scott Walker, Einstürzende Neubauten, Sly & Family Stone are mentioned as inspirations & Brian Eno being in the studio, which all sound like a recipe for a brilliant outcome. But it just all sounds so forced and affected.
Has some absolute bangers, the singles obviously as well as some album cuts (All Mixed Up & You're All I've Got Tonight) make for an engrossing listen. "I'm in touch with your world" is quite silly, the dissonant riff is nice enough, but maybe not touch all of the buttons with the "sound effects" setting on, on that brand new synthesizer you just got.
Sometimes grooves, sometimes more than a bit silly, at times challenging, but always engaging in some way.
It is impossible to ignore the impact of this record on rock music. Keith Moon's drumming is undeniable, as well as My Generation. The songwriting is another story. Some of the vocal melodies are pretty bland, the riffs are not all memorable and the rhythm section simply can't do all the heavy lifting.
Lovely dream pop. Lorelei, Persephone ... standouts. Sometimes the nonsensical lyrics seem to work, but there are times where it gets a bit too cutesy (Pandora (for Cindy)).
This was all over the radio back in the day and the re-listen really transports you and ties you to a specific era. The music more than merits its ubiquity in the 90s.
A 90s blindspot for me - might have resonated more with an angstier listener back then - but, alas, lyrics like "Be Sweet" are a bit too 90s to take. I guess it's supposed to be self-abasing and not based on personal experience, but the "I behave like a d#%k, but I'm like so complicated and deep," schtick really hasn't aged well. It's not all that bad, but: "Oh baby, I realise I treated you wrong But I'm so sorry, let me come back were I belong You see I'm your fool, I lost my cool." Just isn't the the type of lyrical genius I'm in the market for. The music is fine, very much of its time, but the vocalist's extremely limited range and lack of melody gets to be quite grating after a few songs.
Overall quite nice. The 60s hippie jam-iness is offset by interesting percussion and rarely gets too indulgent. More eclectic than I'd have thought. "Incident at Neshabur" would have fitted well on jazz albums of the era, whereas others sound more like stock hippie songs, that filmmakers on a budget would use.
Music to sell stuff to.
The cult and mystery of Scott Walker are probably clouding judgement. The songwriting may not even be particularly memorable, but there's just something about the delivery and atmosphere that's undeniable, but impossible to pinpoint.
A pioneering album - must have sounded revolutionary at the time. But as with many other pioneers; the formula hasn't been perfected yet and will be improved on later albums,
Seems very much tied to the cultural landscape of its time. On a pure musical level this is good, it vibes, grooves and whatnot - but it is after all a soundtrack - to a film I haven't seen.
Some quality songwriting going on here. Lacks the immediacy of his first albums and goes on for a bit. Disliked "Shabby Doll" immensely.
I've dipped my toes in the Naked City/Torture Garden pool and know what this Zorn guy is about. Don't really get why this one makes the cut, it's not as dynamic or varied, nor does it have the "what just happened" factor as the more known releases that explore a similar concept. The "everyone overplaying all at once" gets to be a bit much after a few songs, so you get a respite in the beginning of tracks like "Enfant," but alas, after a minute we're off to the races again.
All time great. The songs, the atmosphere, the production, the legend - it's all there.
An album that he had to make, to work through what needed to be worked trough, but ultimately. The songwriting just isn't there. I realize that everyone had moved on from the Beatles, but you'd think that some of the songwriting genius would seep through. Catharsis has been mined mercilessly for musical purposes, but c'mon you can't just be yelling "Well well well" over a couple of chords for six minutes, add distortion on it and call it a day. Highlights: Love Historically and culturally an immensely important album. But on a pure musical level, not so much.
A pleasant surprise! Another blindspot from the early 2000s. An eclectic bunch of songs - hearing traces Flaming Lips, Spiritualized, Blur (vocals?), but all combined makes for one hell of an album.
Music to drink overpriced coffee to.
That's about as country as it gets and the guy's got a voice to deliver it, that's for sure. But country being country - it doesn't offer a whole lot in variety - songwriting, arrangements or lyrical content. There are times when the album honks way too much and the tonk is all over the place - and that's when non-country enthusiasts step out. There are standouts, such as The Grand Tour, She Told Me So and a few others.
Classic: Highlights - Hearing Manuel's voice for the first time in "Tears of Rage", the organ sound on Chest Fever and the free-falling feeling of "rolling down the rooooooad..."
I for one liked this one. In all the chaos there are identifiable structures, grooves and riffs. But it is of course quite abrasive and the type of music requires a very specific mindset to enjoy. Dracula Mountain a highlight.
Music to wear denim jackets, drink canned beers and giving the good ol' 🤘🤘to. Wasn't familiar with much more than the tracks played on the radio. Quite surprised by songs like "Emerald" and "Massacre" - I knew the band is sometimes mentioned as an early influence on metal to some degree (Metallica, etc.), but these song in particular sounds like the blueprint to Iron Maiden, much more so than I'd have thought.
Quite innovative arrangement with the trebly-guitar and tom-tom driven beats. As punk singers are want to, the vocals are a bit shout-y and lacks dynamic range, which gets a bit much at times.
First time listen. Very pleasant early-indie sounding pop, but not much to latch onto at first listen. Singing is at times a bit overreaching, but I suspect that repeated listens will reward listeners.
Ain't no one other than Iggy - who in time has become somewhat of a caricature of himself. Resuscitated here by Bowie, The Stooges are given the "Iggy & the..." prefix and Bowie seems intent on utilising his wild-man persona to the fullest - evident on songs like 'Penetration' where Iggy's moaning and meowing of his inane horn-dog lyrics are so far up front in the mix that the music almost seems inconsequential. Thankfully Bowie and co. called up the Asheton brothers to provide some of the spark that fuelled the first two albums. Highlights: Search and Destroy, Gimme Danger, I Need Somebody.
A rollicking fun listen - energetic and competent performances, more than a healthy slice of Englishness, memorable songwriting.
The highlights are plenty. The infectious handclaps, tambourines, piano drones, the catchy riffs, the growling and grunting. I don't mind We Will Fall as much as some others.
A breath of fresh air in 2001, which more than merits its renown. Say what you will about the chops, they come up with some great riffs, catchy songs and good ol' sense of energy and fun.
It's all just a bit too saccharine and bland. Some of these have been played to death on classic rock radio and I'd get by if that'd stop. He is the type of songwriter you get the feeling doesn't really listen to or enjoy music.
Singles are good - So Young, Animal Nitrate. The rest is fine, the arrangements are competent, but rarely innovative or particularly striking, so it mostly comes down to the quality of the songwriting (great to fine) and Bret Anderson's vocal affectations - which are sometimes well over-the-top.
Music to make serial killer films in the 1990s to. Some of this is pretty cool, and was obviously quite innovative in its time. The thing with industrial music is that for me there is a thin line between atmospheric, rhythmic sense of dread and then just repetitive intentionally abrasive droning static. Just One Fix, Scare Crow falls into the first category and Hero the second.
Tiny Dancer is a classic. But some of the other lyrics are so weirdly lacking in any engaging imagery or linguistic cleverness. Songs like Levon and Razor Face go all out with bombast, orchestral arrangements and Elton John howling and whatnot... but the words coming out just don't do anything. I get there are character driven storytelling songwriters, but these are just so utterly devoid of any captivating images or any perceivable meaning. I just can't think of any musical genius that could make me have an emotional response to the life of Levon - no matter how many times Elton John insists of the listener by the incessant repetition of his name. Tiny Dancer, title track and All the Nasties kind of make up for it.
About as 90s as it gets - the beats, the raps, and especially the backing vocals. Sometimes works (title track) sometimes not (Everything).
Lovely as usual. There are times where it's difficult to latch onto melody, but she makes it work.
Just the perfect synthesis of technology, creativity & sound.
These lyrics are unimaginably lame - I get that disaffected youth would respond to rebellious music that carves out a niche to find a sense of belonging, but lyrics like "it's so bad, going to school," is pandering garbage and God of Thunder is the blueprint for some David St. Hubbins lyricism. The Music is rock by the numbers, but no matter the costume and make-up extravaganzas and inane lyrics about how much they rock - this never comes close to any real sense of the sense of danger and menace they're aiming for.
The social commentary in The Predator reflects a time and cultural situation that desperately needed critical examination. However, it occasionally veers into grandstanding, which adds little substance. Songs like "Don't Trust 'Em" come across as so laughably childish that they risk undermining the impact of the entire album.
All time great. Flawless.
One of his best if only he'd avoid the tendency to take his voice to places where it has no place being - strained, shout-y and grating (i.e. the end of "Battered Old Bird." )
A bit too campy and cheesy in songs like Enjoy Yourself, Hey, Little Rich Girl, Pearl's Cafe Prefer the 'cooler' & subtler approach in songs like Man at C&A, Do Nothing.
Dated - in more ways than one.
No questioning the talent or the voice. Well, the album seems to want to shift to the highest gear pretty quickly and stay there, so it gets to be a bit too much; the overblown vocals, the constant brass which occupies the same frequencies, leave something to be desired in terms of nuance and subtlety, but hey, maybe that wasn't what they were going for...
Some cool basslines, but I just don't know what situation in my reality requires 140 minutes of intense and constant drum and bass beats.
Love, love, love this album. Not just for its status being one of theses deified "breakup albums," but because it's so musically rich and it just so happens that heartbreak goes well with some classy strings, punchy basslines and well written songs.
The rare late career resurrection - brilliant album. But I'll never understand why musicians of that generation seemed to be unsatisfied unless there was at least one blues-dirge-filler track on each album. Mr. Dylan you've got over an hour's worth of brilliance, you didn't need Dirt Road Blues. Highlights: Love Sick, Standing in the Doorway, Not Dark Yet
The single word and phrasing when he sings "HAARRRRNKY Tonk heroes like me!," automatically makes this a one star album. But pronouncing California as Californy sort of makes up for it...it's a delicate balance between the honk and the tonk, you see.
Covers a bit gimmicky, but the more traditional sitar music is good, as far as I know…
I get the name. It must have taken blood, sweat and a lot of tears to labor over these convoluted compositions in the studio that are so devoid of life, spirit and originality.
This gets to be real grating, real quick... not sure what it is, if it's the extremely limited vocal range, the repetitive generic riffing or the inane lyrics.
Singles are pretty iconic and all, but much of the rest is filler at best.
Poptimism be damned... this is plastic, artificial, manufactured.
Not gonna lie! They had us in the first half, all nostalgic and funky, but then there's only so much dumb-assery one can take. By the time Apache Rose Peacock shows up... geesh!
Apparently "it is viewed as a successful example of the hybrid between country and rock and roll Parsons called "Cosmic American Music," I think there must be some malfunction in the streaming service, the rock and roll part seems to missing, all I'm hearing is country.
I'm all for the folksy working-class-ramblin' thing, but yodelling?
About 17 too many "whao'" in there, but there's just too much energy to be contained.
Mostly good, not great. Hot take: the guitar solos are pretty aimless and generic and the fuzz guitar is rarely the highlight of anything.
Worst one yet.
Surprisingly low energy and slow paced at times and way too much pop sensibility and major-key-blues-riffiness. David Lee Roth has got his own thing going on there, gotta give him that.
Sounds like what bongwater smells like.
A pet peeve of mine is documentaries featuring snotty punks from the ’70s claiming they saved music from the pretension and overindulgence of prog-rock—reducing the complex dynamics of culture, history, art, and creativity to the inane binarism of 'few chords = good, many chords = bad.' But now having listened to this album, I think I kind of get it.
Gotta agree with Lester Bangs here: it wasn't ahead of its time - it stands outside time. Therefore its almost impossible to separate the legend, its orignal impact and the music. I find myself listening to it both as groundbreaking music from the 60s and at face value in 2020s simultaneously. The line between pretension and over-indulgence and creative-mad-genius is apparently measured by a hair's breadth in my case. The abrasive dissonance, the sillyness, the meandering structures, the fact that it goes on and on, in most cases should not work, but even in the most dense chaos of songs like "Frownland" have me trying to solve the mystery of where it's going, where it's coming from and why it works at the same time it absolutely doesn't.
"Ok boys it's a wrap, we've got a stone cold classic on our hands." "Wait, wait, what if.... bear with me, what if we add a whole extra album with over 30 minutes of nothing but directionless jam-wankery, but like with totally cool cats and we had a really cool time?" "Is there any enjoyment for the casual listener, who wasn't in the room, to be had?" "Little to none." "3 LP's it is!"
Poses interesting questions about the utility of music. Some reviewers seem perfectly happy with music that has the power to induce dancing, contextualize personal experiences, or change mood, but for some reason draw the line at music whose purpose is the absence of these things. I, for one, am for it.
That weird time period where western beats and oriental scales were all the rage - ideal for b-movie soundtracks of the era where the western protagonist finds himself in an eastern market and the all-white filmmakers need music to communicate a sense of the unknown and exoticism. However, for 2020s listening... meh.
I remember definitely having this on an iPod back in the day, yet re-listening in 2025 it does not bring forth a single memory of a riff, hook, lyric or feeling. It sure sounds good though.
"Hey, look, I've learnt how to make these really cool beats with the computer and I can add all sorts of samples and effects on top of it!" "Sounds interesting, did you write any songs or use it for any creative purposes?" "Well, I guess not, but I did it with a computer, so it's innovative..." "I'll take 76 minutes worth!"
For a band that takes up so much space in music history, they have surprisingly few memorable songs.
Has some great songs, but also some pretty terrible ones too.
Restaurant guide: Change of underwear =🔥🔥🔥 Forehead sweat = 🌶️🌶️ Safe for babies =🍍 Literal milk = 🥛 . . . . Travis = 🎤
Bleepedy blooping bloop
Music for tourists who haven't gone to an actual concert since the 70s, who then take a weekend trip to Dublin, go straight to Temple Bar and are all amazed about there being "authentic Irish live music" and the proceed to drunkenly video-document (with the flash on) a full five minutes of "I drank whiskey and beer, too ra loo ra la."
If your Stevie Wonder records are all scratched up and you need to get the party going, I guess this will do. Much like if you're making some pasta sauce and don't have any tomatoes, you can substitute with ketchup.
Love me some Radiohead as much as the next guy, but there are some Thom Yorkisms where the skip button starts to become appealing - like when he gets all manic and moan-y at the end of Bodysnatchers. Songs like Nude, All I Need & Videotape sort of make up for it.
“What’s that?” “A sampler, which allows you to play a soundbyte over and over again.” “I see, and this knob?” “It’s a filter, it modulates the signal” “Ok, one more thing…” “That one changes the pitch…” “Ok, got it let me try.” “Here let me show you how to sequence another sample….” “Nah, I’m good…”
I can see these boys going far, perhaps even as far as the half-time show at the Florida Panhandle Cornhole Championships (Sponsored by J. Snyderman's Used Mattress Emporium. )"
"I think we need some representation on our 1001 list from this so-called indie genre the kids are going on about!" "Oh, you mean like The Stone Roses?" "I'm pretty sure there's been some developments in the genre since, maybe we can seek opinion from some credible sources with ears close to the ground." "You mean someone like John Cusack's character in High Fidelity?" "That sounds about right..."
When your whole schtick is being this outcast, worm and victim, and that society, celebrities and religion are keeping you down, it very quickly falls apart when it turns out that the real problem all along was just that you're a terrible person. This was never a critique of the "beautiful people," he just wanted to be one of them.
"Hold on, hold on, Bon, you know in Shot Down in Flames you start by singing "Out on the town - lookin' for a woman"" "Yeah, what are you getting at?" "Wel,l in the next song on the album, Get it Hot, the first line is "Goin' out on the town - just a me and you." "That's right." "Well maybe people will think we're a one trick pony if we're just yapping on about going out on the town over some head bopping blues rock riffs." "Nah mate, in the first one I don't have a woman YET, but in the other one I've already got the woman, so it's completely different." "Whatever, roll the tape..."
"I'm telling you the kids are going nuts for this indie thing, we can't just be putting only electronic music we used to dance to on ecstasy in the 90s! You there! Intern! What are the kids bopping to these days?" "Well, my nephew's in this band Hookworms... they played at the Cheltenham Music Festival, subbing in for Mouse Trap Replica on the Benson's Motor Oil Pop-Up Stage, right behind the Shawarma stands, right next to the latrines." "Are they anything like them Arcade Fires and Vampire Weekdays?" "My mates seemed to like them, could've been the drugs though..." "That's good enough for me!"
[generic blues rock jam comes to a close] "Ok, John that sounds like there might be something there, we can keep working on it and maybe when the lyrics are fully done, you know without all the hypocrisy, we might be able to shape this into something..." "There will be no introspection! Only the shifting of the blame and the pointing of fingers, and these ARE the songs! Roll the tape, this next one is about how Paul McCartney is a piece of shit." [toxic vibes proceed to seep into analogue tapes]
Hot take: Yapping on about Chris Martin and Bono being pretentious and unoriginal is about as pretentious and unoriginal as Chris Martin and Bono themselves. Having said that - this is pretty mid.
First couple of tracks and a few others, but then there's the standard whiteguy blues rock filler tracks, that seem to bog down every other late 60s/70s album.
We've been having good fun ridiculing Roger Taylor for writing about his weird seemingly sexual attraction to his automobile, but we've been sleeping on Mercury's "The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke," - where I guess he's describing a painting he once saw, with a thesaurus. I mean...: Pedagogue squinting, wears a frown And a satyr peers under lady's gown Dirty fellow, what a dirty laddio Tatterdemalion and a junketer There's a thief and a dragonfly trumpeter
A common arc - going through a period of youthful exuberance and creativity where "rules" are meant for breaking and studios are for capturing the essence of that energy - once that well dries up after, let's say your 30s, you start to appreciate the craft of songwriting, arrangements and studio precision; the rules were there for a reason and the creative challenge is to work within their confines. Can yield some late-career gems or some incredibly lame music - Wild Wood falls firmly in the latter category.
Being well outside the target audience, it might be unfair to judge this solely based on my perception of musical utility. It would be more appropriate to evaluate it based on other possible utilities: - Inspirational tempo music during endurance runs: 0/5 - Incentivizing the purchasing of lattes and frappuccinos by the liter: 5/5 - Exploring the boundaries of creativity and innovation: 0/5 - Getting my mother-in-law to the "good place" - eyes-closed/candles-lit/glass-of-brandy-in-hand: 5/5 - Background music for an '80s movie "getting ready for a fight" montage: 0/5 - Streamlining my musical algorithms towards interesting new music: 0/5 - A safe & inoffensive alternative to silence 4/5 Math comes to about 2/5.
Fred Armisen on whichever talk show doing a skit about the nuances of specific time-periods and genres in music: "You know punk in the 70s was all like "oi oi oi" and then we get to the 1980s new-wave and post-punk and then it was all like [does exact impression of this album]."
People are saying this is like a greatest hits album & it sure has a lot of bangers. However even if Fogerty had hypothetically been on the most epic run of songwriting and written Stairway to Heaven, Imagine, Superstition & Hotel California and put them all on this record - it would still only get 4 stars - because of Ooby Dooby.
I guess he was going for the womanizing connotation when he chose the "dog" name... turns out the submissive lapdog connotation was more apt all along, as seen by his performing for the powers that be in 2025.
Poltifact Truth-O-Meter Statement: “I'm just a crazy motherfucker livin' it up - Not giving a fuck” Exhibit A: “Why is everybody always picking on me? - Full Nelson Exhibit B: I can see it when you laugh at me, look down on me - My Way Exhibit C: “And now you wanna hate me! - Take A Look Around Exhibit D: “Now who's the star sucker? I'm the Starfish. You silly motherfucker.” Fact check ruling: Pants on Fire - Fred Durst very much does give a fuck and this album is pretty much only that. It may also be relevant to know that the man who wrote these "lyrics" was 30 years old at the time.
This really takes you back - it seems like every song was a single - they were so ubiquitous, pervasive and insistent - the childlike frivolous “lyrics” - the constant, incessant, relentless, pummelling repetitions - I hate it.
I like the Buzzcock's sure enough, but the album format isn't their strong suit. Singles (Going Steady) is surely the way to go with the Buzzcocks.
Some of these go on for a while!
"Hey guys you know when you said that we had a stone cold classic 5 out of 5 star albums on our hands, and it'd be a shame if something were to mess with that?" "Yeah" "And remember when you said I wouldn't get any writing credits? "What have you done?" "I may have added some... bodily emissions..." "Wait. What?" "Farts! There are now fart noises on the final track. Farts. That is all."
Where did the notion even come from that this guy had something of value to say? Was that a narrative pushed by the film, the media, or just a collective hallucination? Because these are some embarrassingly childish lyrics.