'I wouldn't normally do this kind of thing' - also, I wouldn't normally like this kind of thing. But I do. Because it's more than the sum of its heartstrings - and it has lyrics like 'to free in me / the trust I never dared.' It takes balls to feel good - and the music got those in droves. 'Then, when I was lonely / I thought again / and changed my mind.' That's good. 'Looking for love and getting / nothing that's worth regretting.' And so is that. 'Together.' Why not? Whitman's Calamus, I hear it, read it, happily, finally, all over again.

lyrics are beautiful and suggestive, production is tight, orchestration adds rather than detracts, something uplifting here tho we all know the tragedy of the artist.

Some of the instrumentation is inspired, like the drumming at the end of ‘Space Truckin’,’ but quickly gets repetitive. The songwriting is weak, and Ian Gillan’s voice does not do it for me. This defines generic rock music - without soul, try-hard lyrics that get you nowhere, blues riffs without true blues intensity that the likes of Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath manage to incorporate into their albums. ‘Lazy’ is the best song here - at least the harmonica has some oomph.

Not often does the idea behind an album or a band affect how much you enjoy the music. It may change your perception/understanding, but not the quality. This is an exception. Once I realized the Ramones were a goofy and violent rewriting of rockabilly, a Buddy Holly in free fall, I could listen freely and enjoy the shit out of them.

It remains a peak of all hip hop, not just the alternative brand. It’s murky and creative and affirmative b/c it is engineered by thinking and is immensely enjoyable to listen to.

Could be an album I like a lot, it’s an album I like some - good voice, bad person. Never felt like it quite got going - the rawest moments don’t endure. It is palpably better than so much pop country, but I don’t feel compelled to return to it. I have to trust this is mostly because the music is ultimately unimpressive and incomplete. ‘Shakedown on 9th Street’ is a believable thing, tho, and the harmonica is there for real. I might return to it…

3.5/5. Underrated. This one has a coherent energy and gives me authentic joy. Have other artists done a better job with this sort of thing? Yes - but it is distinct enough to be an enduring effort.

Sparser and shorter than Bryter Layter, just as poignant and original. I do bemoan who he must have been an influence on - quiet, depressed, and tedious singer-songwriters. But he’s a thing-in-itself. He’s far from boring and wants life as sad as he may have suffered. He wants things to work out. That’s what makes it so sad.

Most people will focus on the lyrics, which makes sense, since they are poetic, oblique, and uniquely literary. Yet they wouldn't function as effectively as they so often do if weren't for the efficient and compelling instrumentation. See 'A Minor Place,' 'I See A Darkness,' 'Death to Everyone,' 'Knockturn,' 'Madeleine-Mary,' 'Today I Was an Evil One.' It's not all sombre piano, but big guitars too. I'm not too down having heard it. Maybe that's b/c 'by dread I'm inspired.' It has sweetness and tenderness, needed components of downcast forms. Possibly he has managed to weaken the attack.

It’s Paul Simon but not the best. This has less to do with the individual songs and more to do with the feel of the album as a whole, which seems a bit scattered. Still some great songs: "Mother and Child Reunion," "Run that Body Down," "Armistice Day," "Peace like a River," "Papa Hobo," "Congratulations." "Me and Julio" is not very good, however, tho it sticks around, and "Paranoid Blues" works as a homage to the American blues but not a fantastic rendition.

The drums stand out, not quite the dynamics of the Pixies, but have power nonetheless. The rest is preachy and hardly vital. Not for me. Is it for anyone? I really can’t tell. ‘Drowning Man,' perhaps, but even this I most likely won't have on rotation.

Honestly, pretty fucking good. It’s overplayed, but I’m happy that I never listened fully when it first came out so I can enjoy it more now. It’s not the songwriting, that’s clear, but I can’t be deaf to the singing. It’s on a level not often heard.

If you find this album too weird, I don’t know what to say. It's ahead of its time in that it manages to brilliantly negotiate languor and energy. ‘Cheree’ is gorgeous while ‘Frankie Teardrop’ predates mucho.

Fantastic - L.A. before its Doors were opened, tho Arthur Miller's voice can be even more rangy and dynamic than Morrison's. It's all and that's everything at once, with flutes too ('Orange Skies,' '¡Que Vida!,’ ‘She Comes in Colors’) and I like that loads. Where'd they hide from me all these years? This one comes in colors.

This album is a four-cornered room, maybe a regiment to be exact, the funk being tight and ordered, tho it’s tapestried with flow too. It’s rich, man, and spatializes itself in its four-angled ghetto, just good enough for moi.

Not remembering this one, I predict, it’s not doing it for me. It’s fine-fine but not enough. ‘Blue and Grey Shirt’ has got something, at least, and, okay, ‘Bad Liquor’ came as a surprise. All the good songs on the backend. It’s the ‘Western Sky’ that I like, and ‘Last Harbor,' too. But not much, honest.

It has bop, but does it have muscle? It may, since the drummer is indeed the MVP (Rolling Stone magazine). It may not, since vocalist Vincent Neff does not have enuff oomff. Production and percussion wise tho, very cool. Check out ‘Firewater,’ Hand of Man,’ ‘WOR’ and ‘Storm.’ The Cairo one, too. Yep.

I've nothing to add. This is a permanent one.

Incredibly nostalgic album for me, and upon listening again, it holds up remarkably well. It's an eerie and uncomfortable foreshadowing of the special brand of opulence and egotism that defines the 2020s, the artist that engineered this album, and several of its featured musicians. Instrumentally and texturally brilliant, but it's the atmospheric and cultural implications the album imparts that give it its uncanny quality. To those who heard it when it first appeared, listen now - it’s even stranger, and far sadder. It has too little innocence.

Production quality is this album's chief statement. How good is it? Listen to "In Dark Trees" and "Everything Merges With The Night," and see for yourself. The whole thing has the simplicity, compactness, and beauty of Pet Sounds, which makes for a rich, complex experience. Somethings are gorgeous, and this is. I'll come running back.

There are ‘smart’ albums you’ll have to be in a heady mood to enjoy (TPAB, Trout Mask Replica) - at the very least they require taking time out of the day to absorb. Then there are albums like this, which are ‘smart’ but don’t in the same way demand an investment. Not the best Talking Heads, but it endures. And what an opener to send it off.

Dusty, surely dusty, her voice is air, gravel, and reality. She does it better than almost everyone. This album, like her, is a book I'll always be reading.

I can’t not like this, so I’ll go ahead and dig it. Reputations aren’t at stake. A great opener, ‘Soda Pop’ is fantastic, the whole thing makes me feel good. Fuck it. The beat goes on…

‘I got another gang story to tell, peep...’ - perhaps like others, I know this from Compton’s Most Wanted and the classic they spawned. This one is soulfully and richly produced. What makes it even better is Hayes’s choice of songs to cover. By the Time I Get to Phoenix - like Bowie doing Wild is the Wind.

Apparently a major influence on Oasis and Britpop, you can hear it, but hear something else too. If this's a revival, it's also a 'hey now, I'm here' sort of thing. And for those seeking a restoration of The Beatles, go back and listen to your Kinks. Yeah, this list is too British, but this is a good find.

'Strangers / Nobody knows we love' (from 'Secrets') is a moving summary of this album's evocation of loneliness. But that triumph doesn't persist. It's not that it's too dark - it's that the darkness is uninteresting and finally w/o the quality of what makes dejected art a buoy for a suffering mind and body. The storytelling is weak, the production feeble. Maybe their other records are more developed, but this stagnates w/ no howl - not for me.

This and Station to Station seem to me to be Bowie's major peaks. This 'hazy cosmic jive' has a lot going for it, but I'd like to think it abides b/c it has the humor and vitality that 'conceptual' projects do not always carry. This never crumbles under its own pretensions - no tedium or inanity here.

This had a much more soulful sound than I expected, and was lighter on its feet than I assumed. The album art and pretentious title didn't excite me, but the instrumentation is often creative and the songs have a sweetness to them. Unfortunately, the lyrics are frequently wanting, and overall there is something unrealized, which other LA groups at the time, like The Doors and Love, didn't suffer from. I'll give it a 4, tho, considering their influence on subsequent artists - again, Americans got there first (sorry Zeppelin...).

This album deserves its critical acclaim, because it's inventive and yielded a new sort of musical experience. Much of it I really enjoy. But I'm not all that convinced by Beth Gibbons's vocals, which sustain a monotony that I find frustrating at times and do not always believe in. And yet, and yet, it so cleverly incorporates Hip Hop (in 1994!) that I'm left unsure what I feel. I guess I kept longing for a spark, and I only got ashes, tho beautiful ones.

This is killing. And Basie plays with so much space, and spacing, so sparse (Midnite Blue) I’m full to the brim with pleasure. Who’s that trumpeter on ‘Duet’? Man, this is good - not quite the last of the big bands (Thad Jones/Mel Lewis, Joe Henderson), but a great selection here - especially for a list so wanting of jazz.

The songs are what they are (and Phil is who he is), but I do love that 'wall of sound' style, especially featured on classics from girl groups like The Ronettes and The Crystals. I'd take Nat King's Christmas album over this - I'm not all that into these jingly Holiday tunes - but this is worth a listen.

Her voice doesn’t merely come from a real place - it takes you there as well, which can’t be said about many ‘real things.’ It wobbles and clouds over, tho it’s also so clear, sound, and solid. Does she push it? Not as much as you may think. So give me Janis. Then I’m good, and in that special way, I can live all over again.

What's cool is this is as much the birth of an idea, an aesthetic, a posture, as it is superb music. Not much to say here - Miles inventing again.

'I wouldn't normally do this kind of thing' - also, I wouldn't normally like this kind of thing. But I do. Because it's more than the sum of its heartstrings - and it has lyrics like 'to free in me / the trust I never dared.' It takes balls to feel good - and the music got those in droves. 'Then, when I was lonely / I thought again / and changed my mind.' That's good. 'Looking for love and getting / nothing that's worth regretting.' And so is that. 'Together.' Why not? Whitman's Calamus, I hear it, read it, happily, finally, all over again.

‘I can’t dance / I guess, I’m just one of the unfortunate few,’ sings Parsons. I guess we’re some of the fortunate many who have discovered this artist. I’m not so sure I care that it’s a fusion of rock and country - big deal - that’s not his (or hers, Emmylou's) genius. It’s that it’s got soul, humor, voice, pluck. And he can sing, just enough, intimately, consistently, quietly. These songs story so much really - for that, it gets my appreciation.

Hard rock/heavy metal seldomly holds my attention for more than, say, thirty seconds, before it falls apart under its pretenses, inanities, tediums. Zeppelin and Sabbath are the formidable exceptions. It must be that the music Bill War, Geezer Butler, and Tony Iommi orchestrate is authentically blues-inspired, regularly funky, always improvisatory. It doesn't even feel particularly 'heavy,' at least no heavier than its progenitors - congrats to them for that. I can listen to Sabbath's enduring riffs often and gratefully.

'No dark sarcasm in the classroom' - that'll stay with me, as will much else. But. This is a sometimes pretentious, not always profound, album with quite a few unpretentious and profound songs. It was conceived ambitiously, so it ought to be judged that way, and I'm not moved by its conceptual frame. It can be puerile, it can be surface, it lacks intellectual stamina. But it has 'The Thin Ice,' 'Mother,' 'Hey You,' 'Comfortably Numb,' and some others ('Goodbye Blue Sky'), that are permanent and real expressions.

'You should hear how we syllogize / You should hear / about how Babel fell and still echoes away.' All of this, and the rest, is very, very good - original, dynamic, not too deep in strange land, and off kilter enuf - but founded on the pleasure principle, I'll not return as often as I do to others. For sure, it's an unforgettable listen, not that demanding, a pleasurable thing in the end. 'Caligari's Mirror' and '(Pa) Ubu Dance Party' prove it's so. Maybe a bit too cool for school. And not as perfect as Marquee Moon.

‘The fairytale was climbing up / A mountain far too steep.’ That's a rare, inspired lyric moment. Musically impressive because lush and adequate but never honest, hardly a big deal. I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt b/c the songs are short and the production is good enough to overcome some of its shortcomings. But not that many of them. 'My Mistakes Were Made For You' is the strongest single - and 'I Don't Like You Anymore' has got punky oomph - but it's all a bit blandish, and the legitimately sexy orchestration ('The Meeting Place') isn’t merited.

I love this album, not because it communicates tension, but b/c nothing feels like it's going to fall apart. This isn't adolescence's final stand, or last day of summer, but a continued expression: 'I wake, I still look, I feel loose.' ‘Still’ is the operative word. Even on 'Made of Stone,' which approaches Tom Verlaine's impressionism, the philosophy is a subdued trust in the process: it's all gonna be okay. And that works for many a night out, or in, or here, or there.

'You made me miss the Slick Rick gig.' This brilliant album (and artist) is a cultural and musical amalgamation you rarely get - a jazz vocalist with r&b perceptiveness laced with footnotes to hip hop. And a voice as seductive and creative as the things she sings about, aspires to. Honest, something special.

'You elevate my soul / I've got no self-control / Been living like a mole now.' That's bad, as is much else here, never quite reaching the heights (and how high are those heights, really?) of 'Beautiful Day.' There appear to be authentic moments of poppy breakthrus, but they persist for even less than a chorus. 'I don't know / which way the wind will blow.' It's difficult to write that and get away with it. U2 doesn't. Their best and most soulful ('In A Little While,' by far) unfortunately can't save this album from itself, which manifests most dreadfully on 'Peace On Earth.'

'Do you really think she'll pull through?' 'And the pain was enough to make / A shy, bald Buddhist reflect / And plan a mass murder.' 'And if you should die / I may feel slightly sad, but I won't cry.' That's Morrissey alright - that's his invention, of which I can't think of a proper imitator/reverential copycat. How'd you do it? I had, for some reason, evaded The Smiths's final album. Shame on me - tho not quite their best, b/c it's not their most definitive, it might be their most consistently colorful and vigorous, even approaching something soulful at times: Morrissey finds his growl ('A Rush and a Push,' 'I Started Something'); I find myself chuffed, snaring this thing that's theirs, that only they've ever done.

'Although our music and our drugs stayed the same.' Sorta how I feel about this one - while I can admire Shaun Ryder's lyrics (at times), and the music has an edge (certainly Stones-influenced, more sixties than you'd initially figure), there's little variety here. If there's a joke, I don't quite get it; if it's about capturing a scene (rave culture), I'm not taken there. And it's weird when I don't know why: 'We're all food, your cake / We're all the food, your weirdo's cream.' I know what to do with impressionism, with the strange and the grotesque, but I don't know what to do with that. Nor do I want to. I do like the more straightforward stuff ('Country Song,' 'Wrote for Luck,' 'Lazyitis') tho - it negotiates The Stones well enough. But mostly, I’m a bit bored, a bit wanting more, or less.

Again, short songs redeem the whole. This is a well-produced album with creative percussiveness, rich, impactful guitars, and a compression to save it from going too far, too dreamy, too heady. The lyrics are the weak point, not difficult or pretentious, but in fact unmemorable, too steady, not wordy enough. But this is a good find, and in the end, I’m down with it. Especially beautiful: 'Onie'; especially tasteful: 'Train for Tomorrow' and 'Luvin''; heavy lifting in LA: 'Try Me on for Size'; not good: 'The Toonerville Trolley.'

His virtuosity aside, I can’t get into this - when it’s quietest, I’m happiest, like at the beginning of ‘Top Jimmy’ or ‘Drop Dead Legs.’ When it’s off, when it’s over, I’m really most pleased. I don’t mind dumb, or even fake, but a dud ‘tis, especially the squandering of ‘Hot for Teacher’ and ‘Girl Gone Bad.’ By the time ‘Jump’ (the best song, by far) starts soloing, there’s nothing left that I can remotely enjoy, it’s all so thin and, like so much hard rock, so soft. If he shreds, well, I can do w/o that verb.

Rush doesn't tell interesting stories, be they fantasy or science fiction, tho Geddy Lee may think he does. This isn't weird, it's boring, and when there is a reprieve of satisfying, even at times superior, instrumentation, you’re reminded of lyrics like: 'I stand atop a spiral stair / An oracle confronts me there.' 'Atop' and its kin are bad for music, unless its The Smiths and the literary is somehow properly negotiated. And when it's more stripped down (e.g. 'Tears'), it's unbearably saccharine, evincing a no-win situation.