listened twice 1st time better than 2nd time. Elected is a tune though

For me there is nothing really stand out. Lyrics are decent but i lost interest with the similar sounding vibe throughout. The next Foo Fighters album is the good one, but I get it mourning the death of Kurt etc. But taking all that aside and just as a body of music it's ok... and that's about it

It's just a nice album with really good songs, nice chill mood, nice and floaty at times and quite introspective at others... and idiotech just a banger... I don't think there's a song I don't like on the whole album which is saying something there's usually one i go meh this is the weak one. i never quite understood what it is with Radiohead. I can listen to some of the most depressing derge, all the goth stuff lots of things that people would go that's a bit dark and moody. Yet some how thom yorke manages with his voice and music to instantly pull me into whatever mood he seems to be in instantly.

Mediocre Tramp Last song probably saved this from being 2/5

Feels like they are searching for a sound they haven't quite put their finger on yet. But Rock Lobster :D

It's got a few absolute bangers on it, but seriously, this album did not need to be a double—it barely needed to be a single. And as for whoever told Elton John he could pull off reggae, they need to sit down, reflect on their life choices, and maybe hand in their resignation. 1 [11:46] I get why Elton John is respected as a songwriter, but I just couldn’t get into this. It’s like being shown a famous painting and thinking, “I'd rather look inside my fridge"

wish i could rate it 4.5/5 cause I would say there's no real stand out track on the album but they're all really nice and just pleasant to listen to with enough going on to keep you engaged with the album, it's not too long and it flows really well from track to track. even the more vocal stuff has nice styling the lyrics are good sometimes metaphorical but just beautiful how they fit the music. Almost like if Radiohead were a 70s band this is the sort of album they'd make sonically at least.... especially with the track dark trees or Becalmed....

Hearing Unknown Pleasures with fresh ears reminds you why it’s considered such an essential work. It captures a moment in late-1970s Britain, a time when punk's energy had begun to fragment and become darker, more introspective sounds began to take root. Yet, this album transcends its era, sounding as fresh and evocative today for me as it must have upon its release. Unknown Pleasures it#s bleak beauty, innovative production, and emotional resonance make it for me at least a true masterpiece of its time, and all time. Martin Hannett’s production work not only elevates the band’s music but also defines the sonic template for much of what post-punk would become. I know some people don't like his production but for me it's almost as much a part of the album as the band is and the lyrics. This is not just an album to hear for it’s an album to experience. The first time I ever heard this was in a car I was about 14 traveling down the mancunian way in manchester, like the perfect setting for this album on a bleak january night, cold, dark, dreary. the car which had been talking since we left home just silenced as my friends brother put this on and it's like we all had this moment in time. by the time we got to where we were going the final notes of 'we remember nothing faded, as if perfectly timed for the journey.Two days later I brought the copy I still have on Vinyl, it's very worn these days but this is where I fell in love with post punk... obviously a 5/5 for me I couldn't rate it any other tbh, as much a part of my life as breathing at this point

I can confirm he is indeed Alive.

solid 4/5 for that album but it has dated in places though. some very 90s way's of thinking but still superbly written about and some very nice melodies to the song and interesting use of styles. what stops this being a 5 is really the fact it gets to a really good level and sustains it which makes it really nice to listen to but never gets that push over the edge into something really special for me. but as a britpop album it's one of the best for sure...

Yeah there's a reason this album is often in the top 100 albums list though, and it's mainly cause there was nothing quite like it before, and nothing really like it afterwards. Huge influence on music after 1977. There were 40 people saw the Sex Pistols at the Lesser Free Trade Hall in Manchester on 4 June 1976, they came away inspired. But they were inspired in a very Mancunian kind of way. Many people in the audience that night didn’t look at the Pistols and so much think: "I want to do that..." but instead, they looked at the young Londoners and thought "I could do way better than that!" there would be no Buzzcocks, Magazine, Joy Division, New Order, Factory Records no Happy mondays, no oasis... and that's just the manchester bands... Without the ones that got up and did something with this 'new music' there would be no Nirvana or Green Day, no Suede, no Killers, no Arctic Monkeys, no Interpol or Savages, no Blur, no Pavement, no Radiohead, Prodigy, no Arcade Fire. Having said all that the album sucks musically 3/5

Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark is a stunning fusion of jazz, folk, and pop, tied together by her evocative voice and poetic lyrics. The album feels deeply personal, like a collection of snapshots from Joni’s life. Tracks like "Free Man in Paris" and "People’s Parties" showcase her ability to capture fleeting, intimate moments and turn them into universal stories. Her songwriting feels both observational and deeply emotional, drawing the listener into her world. The orchestration is a standout feature, with lush arrangements and thoughtful touches, like the gospel-like choir in Down to You. Each song feels carefully constructed, yet the album retains an unstructured, flowing quality, especially in tracks like Troubled Child, where the jazzy undertones reflect wandering thoughts and introspection. Raised on Robbery adds energy and relatability, while Twisted ends the album with a playful, witty flourish. With its blend of sophisticated lyrics, vivid storytelling, and rich instrumentation, Court and Spark is timeless and captivating. It’s a collection of songs that lingers in your mind long after the music ends. Final Rating: 5/5

Its good like a high 4 but I think it suffers a little from all the songs being roughly the same topic. This is the album that you'd play when people have already listened to the more popular beatles albums as like the final masterpiece to the 'early' Beatles

How could it not be really... taking aside it being one of the most culturally important albums and that Brian eno said that everyone who brought a copy in its first issue started a band... or that it's in the top 20 greatest albums of all time.... I just love the sound of the velvet underground, i love the lyrics.. the guitar tuning every string to the same note... experimentational style and just how its completely different from everything else out there...

The whole thing feels like a lazy, half-arsed effort by people who think they’re clever but can’t actually deliver. It’s like they’ve walked into a pub quiz thinking they’ll smash the music round because they skimmed a Wikipedia page about jazz. You can almost hear them patting themselves on the back after every dull, lifeless chord progression. It’s not clever, it’s not interesting—it’s just pretentious waffle dressed up as something sophisticated, like one of those overpriced craft beers that tastes awful but has a trendy label. I regret every second of this. It’s like being stuck talking to someone who insists they “truly understand” Thom Yorke because they once watched Meeting People Is Easy and now won’t stop going on about how “Kid A changed the game.” They don’t really get it—they just want to sound deep. This album feels like it’s trying so hard to be smart and different but has absolutely nothing to say. At least I can confidently say I never want to hear Steely Dan again. This is pretentious rubbish for people who think their music taste is “classy” because they’ve got a vinyl player from Argos and a shelf full of “Greatest Albums Ever” reissues. It’s music for people who talk a lot about sound quality but wouldn’t know a good tune if it hit them in the face. Total waste of time.

In other news 4/5 for Killing Joke... if this album had 'eighties' on it 5/5

This is, without question, my favorite Cure album. It's one of those records that feels completely otherworldly, like it exists on its own plane. Listening to it on headphones is an experience—every sound is so intricate, so perfectly placed, it’s almost intoxicating. The opening is incredible: the shimmering, panned chimes that seem to dance around you, followed by the deep, grounding thud of bass and synth—it’s like a one-two punch that takes your breath away. The first two tracks are pure magic, the way they complement each other, like two parts of the same thought. The reverb, the delay, the EQ—it’s all done with such precision, creating this hypnotic effect that pulls you in completely. I find myself wanting to shut everything else out, just sit in the dark and let this album take over. It’s like drifting in and out of consciousness, somewhere between dreaming and waking, and honestly, I could stay there forever. What really gets me is the contrast. The way it moves between delicate, almost fragile moments and these saturated, intense bursts of sound. It’s dramatic in the most perfect way—gripping, emotional, but never forced. It’s not just an album; it’s a world you step into, and every time I listen, I never want to leave. A true masterpiece.

I’m a bit conflicted about this one. On the one hand, Paul Weller’s talent for writing a solid tune is undeniable—there’s a real knack for melody and catchiness throughout. The songs are nice, no doubt about that. But something about it feels a little of it’s dated, but not in a way that feels charming or timeless. It’s more like it’s trapped in a specific moment that doesn’t quite hold up. What really struck me, though, is how much this feels like Weller is trying to channel Steve Winwood. I can’t fully explain it, but I could easily imagine this as a Winwood album instead. It’s not a bad listen by any means, but it doesn’t feel particularly special, either. It’s like a lot of those records that 70s rock artists put out during this time—polished, competent, but missing that extra spark that makes it truly stand out. It’s like a decent brew that’s gone lukewarm; drinkable, but nothing to rave about.

Morrison Hotel is split into two halves: Hard Rock Cafe and Morrison Hotel, and they’ve got two pretty distinct vibes. The first half, "Hard Rock Cafe," is the blues one, and I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting much from it. The Doors, to me, have always been more about the psychedelic stuff, so the blues approach wasn’t something I thought I’d enjoy. But it’s actually quite decent. Roadhouse Blues is fine, it’s got the energy you’d expect, but it’s nothing particularly special. The rest of the side, however, has some great moments. Peace Frog stands out with that groove that’s unmistakably The Doors, and You Make Me Real is almost like garage rock. Waiting for the Sun is another highlight it brings a bit more atmosphere into the mix. Overall, it’s better than I had anticipated. The second half, is where you’d expect me to really get invested. This is meant to be the psychedelic half. And there’s some of that here; Land Ho! has a fun, trippy energy, and Indian Summer which was actually the 1st track they ever wrote back in 1965, I appreciated but seemed to me to be a much shorter version of the more famous 'The End' . But the rest? It didn’t leave much of an impression. The songs are fine, but they’re not the kind of tracks that linger in your mind. I kept hoping for something to really stand out, and it just never quite materialized. All in all, the first side was a pleasant surprise, while the second side fell short of expectations. It’s not a bad album; but it’s not the one I’d recommend to someone new to The Doors. A 3.5 if I’m feeling generous, but realistically, it’s more of a 3 when you look at the whole package. Decent enough; but they’ve done better.

Lauryn Hill’s undeniable talent is the lone saving grace of The Score, but even her brilliance can’t save this monotonous and overhyped album. “Killing Me Softly” is fine at best, but it pales in comparison to the original—hardly worth the effort of this reimagining. The rest of the album drones on, recycling the same tired beats for nearly every track, making it feel like one endless, lifeless loop. Even the skits, which should add charm or personality, are nothing more than irritating interruptions. The lyrics? Without having them in front of me, I’d have no idea what’s being said, and when I do catch bits of it, the subject matter is either gratingly crude or so far removed from anything I care about that it’s impossible to engage with. "Mista, Mista," for example, attempts to be a soft, reflective ballad but is ruined by gratuitous profanity and its overly bleak focus on addiction. It comes across as trying too hard to be edgy rather than meaningful. If anything, listening to this album underscores why Lauryn Hill left the group to go solo—her talent deserved so much better than this repetitive, uninspired production. Adding to the distaste is the knowledge of Wyclef Jean’s mismanagement and exploitation through his Yéle Haiti charity, which casts an even darker shadow over the whole experience. The Score may be considered a classic by some, but for me, it’s a shallow, monotonous slog that I couldn’t wait to end.

A descent into darkness, a corridor lined with echoes, each track a new step deeper into the abyss. Closer is less an album and more a confession, a whispered cry from a soul teetering on the edge. The opening, "Atrocity Exhibition," doesn’t welcome—it confronts. It is ugly, abrasive, and hauntingly human. There’s bravery in that choice, in starting with chaos and daring you to follow. This is not music that soothes. It writhes, it mourns, it disorients. The basslines pull like an undertow; the guitars claw at the edges of sanity. Martin Hannett’s production wraps the sound in a spectral fog, machines humming like ghosts beneath every melody. It is alien and yet painfully intimate, the dissonance of feeling too much and not enough. By "Heart and Soul," the transition becomes clearer—the rawness of Unknown Pleasures is still here, but now it’s surrounded by the cold light of synthesis. The human touch remains, but it fights through the circuitry, making the pain all the more palpable. Every lyric, every note, feels like a confrontation with mortality, with futility. When "Decades" arrives, it’s as though the record itself is taking its last breath. Some hear war, others hear life reflected from the grave. Both are right. It’s a culmination, a fragile beauty that fractures under its own weight. This isn’t just an album; it’s a testament, a warning. It’s goth before goth, post-punk as the shadow of something even darker. Closer doesn’t ask you to understand. It doesn’t even ask for your empathy. It simply is—unforgiving, relentless, stunning in its despair. Two months later, Ian Curtis was gone. What remains is this jagged monument, a tombstone etched in sound. You wonder if it could have saved him, but salvation never lived here. It is rain that follows the sun, a shroud over brighter days. Yet, in its hopelessness, it finds a way to dance. You can feel its influence in bands that followed, in sounds that dared to scrape at the edges of light. And somehow, from this, New Order rose.

Southern Rock Opera feels like a love letter to Southern rock culture, wrapped in heavy critique. It starts intriguingly, with thoughtful commentary on identity and racism, but quickly loses its spark. The concept is compelling, yet the 90-minute runtime turns into a test of patience as the songs blend together, leaving little that truly stands out. Musically, it’s polished but lacks grit. Tracks like The Southern Thing and Angels and Fuselage offer glimpses of brilliance, but much of it feels like a parody—campy vocals and overdone tropes that wear thin. A standout moment for me was when a female voice took over briefly, elevating the energy and coolness of the album, but it was fleeting. I wanted to connect with this, but it felt more like an academic project than a visceral experience. For all its ambition, it left me checked out, longing for something deeper and less self-aware. Highlights: Birmingham, Angels and Fuselage.

Coldplay’s Parachutes is, in many ways, a snapshot of their earliest promise—a record steeped in melancholy, nostalgia, and those iconic hooks that would come to define their sound. For some, it’s easy to dismiss Coldplay as middle-of-the-road, a band that seldom ventures into the unknown. Yet, when you step back, there’s an undeniable magic in this debut. It’s a competent, heartfelt collection of songs that set the stage for one of the biggest bands in the world, even if it doesn’t fully realize the creative risks it hints at beneath the surface. Listening to Parachutes, I’m struck by the guitar-driven pop-rock at its core. The shimmering guitars, tinged with tasteful delay and modulation effects, create a soundscape that’s as earnest as it is atmospheric. There’s a certain charm in the simplicity of the melodies and the emotional weight behind Chris Martin’s delivery. Tracks like Shiver and Spies remind me of a Coldplay reaching for an alternative edge, leaning into a rawness that would later be smoothed over in their more polished works. Still, there’s a sense of safety here, a reluctance to push boundaries. They flirt with unique ideas but often pull back, opting for comfort over surprise. It’s frustrating, in a way, because you can hear the possibility of something more just beneath the surface—a potential that remains tantalizingly out of reach. For me, the second half of the album resonates more deeply. From Trouble through to the hidden track, Life Is For Living, there’s a personal vulnerability in the music that feels genuine. These songs unfold like moody, introspective reflections, offering a glimpse of authenticity and earnestness that might explain why this debut continues to connect with so many. It feels like disjointed sad songs strung together, but somehow, Coldplay manages to sell the vibe, imperfections and all. Yet, my relationship with this album is complicated. It’s not just about the music—it’s about the memories tied to it. Parachutes became a time capsule of sorts, forever linked to a difficult period in my life. Coldplay was the first band I saw live on my own, at a venue that wasn’t Glastonbury, where I always had other people to lean on. I thought I was ready, and I wasn’t. They were undeniably great, but I wasn’t prepared to feel what I felt that night. That push and pull, the simultaneous longing for more from this album and relief at being able to shelve it when later records arrived, has shaped my view of Parachutes. It’s a bittersweet strain down memory lane, a reminder of a time when I felt everything too much. Maybe that’s why I don’t come back to this album often. It’s not that I dislike Coldplay—it’s that Parachutes pulls me too deeply into my own head, to places I don’t always want to revisit. In that way, it’s akin to how some people feel about Radiohead—an inescapable emotional gravity. And while I’ve drifted from Coldplay in the years since, there’s a part of me that still holds onto this record. It’s flawed, it’s safe, but it’s also earnest and human. Maybe that’s why it lingers.