A pop culture assault and cartoon violence rap masterclass.

The first true concept album. A groundbreaking innovation in music. Highlights for me are always Within You Without You, She's Leaving Home and A Day In The Life. Just sublime, especially ADITL, I think it's one of their finest examples of a Lennon and McCartney song i.e. part bleak and biting, and part jolly and bouncing. From the use of combs on Lovely Rita, to the pieces of tape randomly put together to make Wurlitzer noises on Mr Kite, this album always seemed like it was from another planet. I thought I'd hate listening to When I'm 64 and Fixing A Hole as I see them as songs for kids in a way, but they're brilliant too. Can't fault this masterpiece.

I found this all a bit dull. There are some pleasant lyrics and vocal arrangements at times, but I found it quite whiny. The guitars throughout meandered and irritated me, bit indulgent, and lacking character or conviction. Title track was my favourite.

This is soulless and aimless pap. Hated the delivery and annunciation throughout. At times, it sounds a bit like Eels, Flaming Lips, early Beck, but pales in comparison. The overall production is pretty good. Not an album or artist that resonates with me I'm afraid.

Pretty good album. I think the first half is loaded with better songs, and the ones that are good are exceptional. Nice vocals, guitar, piano. Some great songwriting.

I hate Tom Morello's dentist drill guitar solos. I had to take 3 Ibuprofen after this album. I have similar feelings about the slap bass. Unless it's Soul or Funk, leave slap bass alone, especially you Rap Metal. I think Rage fans romanticise this album being powerful. Musically it's just hectic, and lyrically it's not as clever as people go on about. I can see why Killing In The Name was popular, at least it's anthemic. Bullet In The Head was probably my favourite, started with a good hook, interesting sections, and then that solo! Just a smorgasbord of abnormal stool samples. By Wake Up, I couldn't believe there was still so much album left. I'll give Rage their flowers in the form of a 2, and that's just for actually following through with their activism, something that is often lamented by those with no real intention to fight for anything. If they pop up again in this list, my rating won't be so kind. Doubt they will though, seen as they really didn't do much else, and this is considered their best effort.

Exquisite vocal performances and impassioned songwriting made this one of my favourites so far. Only Love Can Break Your Heart is the stand out track, and holds nostalgic significance for me. Such a heavy and beautiful concept, expertly delivered. It's sacrilege to say, but I also love St Etienne’s cover. Other highlights are After The Gold Rush, great piano on that one, Southern Man has a jerky guitar solo that goes off the rails, and I Believe In You is another triumph in songwriting. I don't even mind the little incident tracks, nice breaks between the ballads.

Murky, vaudevillian, bat shit crazy. Loved it from start to finish. Underground sounds like it was produced by filthy trolls in the depths of a smelting plant. Booming drums, metal clangs, set to the marching trombone. A vocal performance that sounds like he's just gargled hot tarmac. Lyrically it paints a vivid picture of a dank underworld. Whispered stories weaved between, traditional blues, experimental noise, lacerated vocal chords, and a tatty chest of instruments, make this an eccentric masterpiece. Used jet trash! Halloween orange and chimney red! What a way to turn a phrase.

Here's 1 star. I thought it only fair to put myself in the mind of someone in 1950s America hearing this for the first time, but then I got really worried about catching polio, and this album was still boring and repetitive.

Discord in lieu of any compelling ideas. Zero likability. Massively overrated band. I've been dragged to plenty of gigs that sound and smell exactly like this, and despite what people say, nobody is having a good time.

I appreciated some mean guitar playing, but I didn't think there was much in the way of good songs. I found this one quite ignorable.

Legs reminded me of Stacy Kiebler, which caused one of my erogenous zones to tingle. However, that moment was fleeting and it marked the halfway point of an album that was far too long. I don't like the chugging guitar fuzz, it's relentless. The drums sound dead flat, no punch just a sort of ‘pfft’ on the snare. The bass was good in parts, a bit like the mighty Quo! I don't know why I had to listen to this album before I die. I imagine I'm going to be asking this a lot. If it turns out Harry Nilsson’s Soundtrack to Popeye the Motion Picture isn't on this list, I'm going to be furious with the curators.

Pretty great album. Music, lyrics, vocals all of the highest standard, and it still sounds great in terms of production. Unquestionably one of the all time greats. I don't think this needed to be a double album though, if it were condensed to one album every song would be a killer. But even the weaker Stevie songs are better than most other artist's best efforts.

The intro was cool and earnest. Impressive featuring artists throughout. Diverse sounding from one track to the next, quite eclectic, reminds me of other albums from similar time like Stankonia or the Ecleftic. Bring the Pain, was smooth, reminiscent of No Diggity with the backing vocal and a similar melody. I haven't heard Gossip Folks for years and it still stands out. I'm sure the Timmy from South Park impression was something a few artists did around this time, somewhat of a cultural linchpin. Work It is a work of genius, the woodblock sounds almost like a click track along with the drum machine, the lyrics, the gibberish, the elephant noise, the implication that the listener couldn't handle Missy, the record scratching, the get ya hair did, the badonk. It's all iconic. Pussycat is cool, it's like a parallel to Dre and Snoop’s Fuck You, with the ownership and intent coming from a woman. I sense sarcasm as much as realism, I don't imagine Missy is all that worried about her man doing the dirty on her. It's quite telling that she feels she has to add context at the end of the song, almost defending her music and the sentiment, where male rappers wouldn't feel the need to do the same. You wouldn't catch Three 6 Mafia apologising for Slob on my Knob. All the songs were great. Nice light and shade, fat beats, big dirty bass lines, soulful vocals at times, well crafted songs, attacking and humourous lyrics. Brilliant album, I'm only not giving 5 because perhaps 2 songs weren't as strong as the rest.

Even a turkey with a harmonica stuck in it's wattle can write good songs. However the good ones didn't feature much on this, it was an incredibly tedious listen.

Ok songwriting, Tangled Up In Blue is probably the best example, but also “I ain't no monkey but I know what I like”....are monkeys famously self-realising? Dunno, ask Bob ‘Monkey Whisperer” Dylan. My fillings started coming loose at the shrill combination of harmonica and organ on Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts. Underwhelming again, and felt like it went on forever, again.

Not an album I often think to put on, but I'm usually happy to hear it by accident. I appreciate Low in the context of the Berlin trio, which I always thought was a very cool innovation in how artists can release music and carve out their own little places and moments in time, and not be concerned with commercial appeal. Sound and Vision is a cracking song. Nice jangly guitars, driving bass, great vocal performance, synths, strings, sax and eno on backing. It's such a pop belter you forget it's about isolation at a time when Bowie has fled L.A to kick drugs and other life pressures. The bleeps and bloops, and overall dalliance into electronica come together well. Warszawa has the hallmarks of Eno and obvious kraut art rock influences, without being totally derivative. Hauntingly powerful even if the lyrics are total gibberish. The track was so influential, Ian Curtis named his band Warsaw before changing it to Joy Division. Enjoyable but omitted from my own Mount Rushmore of Bowie albums.

I felt nothing at all while listening to this. It's the musical equivalent to canvas wall art in an office complex.

Maybe if their projectors weren't so dirty they'd have been able to read the brief properly. It said “Make this album marketable", but due to the filthy smudges, they read it as “Take slim akram a marble table.” After acquiring an ornate and rather bougie marble table from a nefarious character on Gumtree, they spent a few weeks trying to figure out precisely who ‘Slim Akram’ was. It turned out this was Kaseem Akram, co-owner of Akram’s Markers, a Marker Pen manufacturer and almost palindrome. After this huge distraction, several failed attempts trying to claim the table on their record label's expenses, and a complete absence of ideas, they set about making a completely forgettable album.

Even completely heinous arseholes like Morrisey can do incredible things, and this album is a work of art. I enjoy it so much, I can even block out all the insufferable, smug, hipster cretins who adopt The Smiths in lieu of having personalities. Headmaster's Ritual and I Want the One I Can't Have are so lyrically sharp, and the melodies are well crafted, the guitar cuts through to the forefront, and the rhythm sections are certified bops and super tight. Rusholme Ruffians is a lovely, jangly romp in the hay. Even the peculiar, whimpering backing vocals sit nicely. That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore has lots of lovely layers to unpack. The strings, the piercing guitar overdubs, echoing drums, the melancholy of the words and the myriad of sounds, the relentless repetition of “I've seen this happen…”, the vocal arrangement at the end, the false ending. Ahh, takes me to orgasmic stratospheres. Nowhere Fast, who doesn't want to drop their trousers to the things they find irksome? This is a strange rickety train of a song, but it's still full of character. Well I Wonder is another mewing, whimpering waltz, nicely placed between some pop-ier tunes. Pleasant spots of rain in the background and I think some synths in there too…. Barbarism Begins at Home has one of the most satisfying bass lines to listen to, and to play. What fun! The ‘sszooop’ sucking/sweeping noise throughout is very effective, similar to The Beatles’s ‘sszooop’ on ‘Girl’. Fantastic guitar work from Marr on this, so much going on. Great song title too. Meat Is Murder is compelling in its message. However, my taste buds will always beat my heart strings in this morality election, and the taste of pork swung that vote a long time ago. Nice try Moz, I'll enjoy the song for it's swelling soundscape and catchy hook, but little else. A perfect weaving of humour, despair, melody, romantic aesthetics, and some pretty mean riffery. What She Said is skip-able, and the album ending on slaughterhouse noises is irritating, but what do you expect from the precocious prince of indie. I'm asserting my discretion and slapping five stars on the table!

There's no denying she had an unstoppable voice, and there are some iconic songs on this album. However it doesn't do much for me, I found it samey at times and lost interest. I'd probably give it a 2.5, so I'm bumping down to 2 because the album cover art is incredibly dull.

As a working class Englishman, working in a low impact profession, it’s very unrelatable. I imagine it’s an album that resonates with throngs of working class Americans, in typical blue collar jobs. All tracks fade out apart from Working on the Highway, why is this? Did Bruce think the fade outs were a good metaphor for the fading in and out of geopolitical relationships during the cold war? Did the turning down of the music intend to draw a parallel with the dimming of family values as gen x'ers became the generation of latchkey kids, who witnessed rapidly increasing divorce rates? Or are we simply witnessing a songwriter all out of ideas? Some of the lyrics are Key Stage 2 rhyming couplets. ‘Tougher’ and ‘Rougher’, ‘Joe’ and ‘no place to go’. I don’t like being able to guess the next line unless there’s enough nuance or charm surrounding the song to justify such basic tropes. Musically, there was a lot to like. I didn’t expect to hear so much synth/keyboard for some reason. This intertwined with passionate vocals and slick guitar work (thankfully not in abundance), made it a somewhat enjoyable listen. While it’s not really my cup of tea, I do appreciate good pop songs. I’m On Fire was a highlight for me, but again, I’m not convinced the fade out was the way to go (making it the fifth fade out by this point). Dancing in the Dark is obviously one of The Boss's most recognisable tunes, and it's alright by me, especially Courtney Cox being in the video. Although in this, she does look like a prepubescent Ellen DeGenderless, rather than the height of her hotty-ness; your friend and mine, Monica Geller circa Season 1-3. The album is incredibly well mixed too. When you add this to the Americana, and the rousing pop belters, it does make for a pretty good album. Reminds me of things like Huey Lewis, and The Cars, decent pop efforts of that time. It’s getting the 3 treatment from me. If this guy broadens his rhyming horizons, and figures out a few more ways to end a song, who knows, we could be looking at the next Sam Fender.

Billie Holiday's voice stands alone in its uniqueness, it has it's own gravitational pull. The broken, trembled affectation she puts on every word never gets old. She certainly convinces me of her general turmoil and woe. Let's give props to the beautiful brass and string arrangements on this album too. A serene and elegant listening experience. I enjoyed it a lot, I'm only going to mark it down to 3 because I'll rarely return to listen to it, maybe when having a Radox bath and enjoying a Cadbury’s Flake. Billie also did the definitive version of The Man I Love. Which is of course from the movie Hot Shots! I like to listen to it and pretend I'm Topper Harley, cooking and eating breakfast off Ramada. Ooh, suit you sir! I'd like to end things on a downer. Billie had no love as a youngster, pretty much abandoned, locked in a room with a dead girl by evil nuns, addicted to drink and drugs, and then of course died in her forties. Anyway, I hope we get Chumbawumba tomorrow!