1001 Albums Summary

Snoop’s debut album introduces his unique flow and steeze to the world (‘Gs up, hoes down’), as well as classic rap anthems. Dre’s production is also notable, this being a year after The Chronic was released, which established Dre’s signature west coast sound of that era, and introduced the world to Snoop who was featured extensively in that record as a key collaborator. Revisiting it in 2024, a lot of tracks feel unmemorable, and while the features lift up LA icons like Nate Dogg, D.O.C., Kurupt and Tha Dogg Pound, much of the others fall short of Snoop’s iconic voice and verses. And while Snoop’s lyricism shines from a stylistic standpoint, he repeats a ton of the same things from song to song, giving the album a half-baked feeling when taken as a whole. The lyrical content is also a product of the misogyny-steeped stance of early 90s rap. Viewed through today’s lens it almost feels like satire given how prevalent these themes are on the record, but they were dead serious about those demeaning lyrics at the time. Now Snoop is a spokesperson for T-Mobile lol.

This is my fav Bob Marley record. Peter Tosh left the band the year this came out, and while Bob was the McCartney of The Wailers — having firm control over the creative decision making — Tosh was more dedicated to the rawer sound of reggae steeped in the sparser, dryer dub subgenre that was in full swing around this time, and his lyrical lens was sharply focused on the political. Without Tosh around their sound shifted drastically towards a more global, polished reggae sound Bob pioneered. One big reason I love this Wailers record is it’s their grooviest record. The heavy influence of soul, r&b, gospel, and folk music present throughout the record is unlike any other Wailers record before or after. This is really evident in the opening 4-8 bar sections of most songs, just before the iconic reggae back-beat settles in. The band is also air-tight. Their unity and collective rhythm is so satisfyingly smooth. They established a pocket on this record somewhere between a traditional swing and reggae’s shifted, lurching pulse. Bob launched The Wailers into the stratosphere around this time too. Their now-ubiquitous catalog of hits started piling up on the record before this with ‘Get Up, Stand Up’ and ‘I Shot The Sheriff’, and this record contributes its fair share to that legacy. And for what it’s worth, ‘Them Belly Full’ is hands-down my fav Wailers song.

Lauper wills a debut album made up mostly of covers of songs written by men into a record that established her as a powerful voice for the independence and nuance of womanhood in an era where women were asserting themselves more and more in all facets of society. In the hands of an artist lacking her confidence and vision, this approach would surely come off corny or pedestrian or just plain bad. Not being familiar with her catalog outside of the hits, it’s the lesser known tracks that really showcase her talent on this album — she tries on lots of musical styles, fitting them into her mold and approach, one that helped usher in a more electronic pop-rock style that dominated the rest of the 80s. She sounds comfortable on pure ballads, synthy pop tunes, pub rock anthems, and songs that draw influence from punk, ska, and the NYC dance scene. Her infectious energy merges all of these styles into a record that is fun and danceable nearly throughout. Musically speaking, I love the female-male harmonies featured on most of the tracks. The sequencing makes it an enjoyable record to listen all the way through, and oddball moments like the second to last track that serves as a coda interlude before the final track is lovely. And she successfully pulls off a great Prince cover — honestly her and Prince could’ve made some great music together especially given they were good friends, but he served more as a mentor in the music biz than a collaborator in her career. Her influence on so many contemporary artists I love is self-evident too. Her unique vocal delivery and punk sensibility surely influenced the wave of women-centric indie rock, synth pop, and dance punk from the early aughts on. It’s hard not to mention Madonna here. They’re both living in NYC at the time, and this debut record dropped a few months after Madonna’s eponymous debut. Lauper is the rock/synth pop/singer songwriter counterpart to Madonna’s Danceteria club girl disco fueled record. Before these debut records of theirs in 1983, Lauper was in a prolific cover band while Madonna was clubbing in Manhattan. Madonna’s influence was always purely aesthetic imo: she had an incredible personal style and curated powerhouse trend setters to guide her music stylistically her whole career, but her vocal talents, song writing, and musicality by comparison was lacking. Lauper’s strengths were much more musical: she sits squarely in the singer/songwriter category, and her vocal range and delivery is one of her greatest assets. Exploring and researching this record sparked a huge interest in the synth pop of the time that I’m really enjoying at the moment. I’ve listened to this record a bunch over the last few days, and I’ve come to really admire her music.

When I started making music in my late teens I started collecting records. Stevie was by no means unknown to me at that age, but I had never listened to any of his albums in full, and I was only really familiar with the hits. The immense popularity he held during his entire career meant that his albums were literally a dime a dozen. This was the first of his records I purchased on my own — a copy I still have today — and it sparked a deep love for an artist I find to be one of the best to ever make music, easily in my top five artists, someone I listened to very regularly. Why do I love the man and the music so much, and this album? His musicality is prolific: like many of his records he plays nearly everything heard here. Like other musicians with such immense talent, Stevie creates a sonic palate all his own, literally. When a musician records music with themselves, tracked over many takes playing each instrument in succession, what emerges are songs that pulse with a sharply-defined melodic and rhythmic signature. To me, his sonic signature is first characterized by expert songwriting, a skill he mastered as one of Motown’s star craftsman, having written countless hits for their legendary roster over the first 15 years of his career that preceded this record — alongside other greats including the Holland Brothers, Smokey Robinson, Ashford and Simpson, Lamont Dozier, and Gordy himself to name a few. Stevie was only 22 when this album came out, a mind-blowing fact that cements him alongside wunderkinds like Beethoven; they both started writing music around age 10. Alongside his writing chops, the rhythmic pocket he creates playing alongside himself undulates like a living being. His sense of rhythm fluctuates from bar to bar and note to note with such creativity and diversity. While he is known primarily as a harmonic musician through his mastery of keyboards and the harmonica, he was a prolific rhythmic musician — I count him as one of my favorite drum players. He takes simple patterns and infuses them with a melodic voice that elevates the instrument to something greater. He fills every bar with color and texture like a jazz drummer, but he strips the pretension and seriousness away and commercializes that approach, fitting it into his expertly crafted songs. Stevie’s now iconic sound is also defined by his use of various keyboard instruments, a facet he developed around the time of this record. He pioneered the use of electronic sounds from the emerging synth landscape of the late 60s and early 70s, including instruments from Hohner, Korg, and Moog, the most definitive of which was the Hohner Clavinet: this is the instrument featured on megahits like “Superstition” from this album, and the one most ppl associate with him. He also pioneered the use of synth bass lines that anchored his sound firmly in the electronic age. My favorite Stevie album is hands-down Innervision, the record that follows this one. It’s a masterpiece. But it’s hard to separate this record from that subsequent release, as well as the record that preceded it, Music of My Mind. Many of the songs across these three albums, popularly known as his classic period, were recorded in the same sessions. Through the progression of these three records he builds incredible thematic and stylistic steam — all of which lead to Songs in the Key of Life, a sprawling collection of songs that ends his classic period in spectacular fashion. In this classic period we hear Stevie finding his voice as an artist. As he entered his late teens the controlling command of Berry Gordy at Motown was stifling his creative growth. The saccharine sound he helped cultivate no longer aligned with his interest in the growing chaotic music landscape of the late 60s, of which the most influential trends for Stevie were steeped in psychedelia, funk, and electronica. He renegotiated his contract with Motown starting with Music of My Mind that gave him full artistic control, unleashing his true creative potential and propelling him to create his finest works. Musicality aside, Stevie’s work during this period introduces us to the side of him deeply interested in equality and existentialism. Inspired by Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, he blossoms as one of music’s greatest social and political activists during his long career, using his platform to expose injustices and propose an alternate reality of love and compassion. And the threads of naturalist and existential themes are a perfect pairing to his electronic-tinged sound; there are countless references to outer space and the natural world in his work that gives his music a deeply human vein. This album is great from start to finish. No notes whatsoever. All the songs shine like supernovas. I have easily listened to this album hundreds of times, and I listened to it at least ten times since it showed up here on this generator, and I will surely listen to it a hundred times more before I die.

Iconic sophomore record that established Bob as the voice of his generation. It’s authentically-steeped in the American folk, blues, and spirituals traditions, as well as traditional English folk — and these considered head-nods to the past create a rock-solid platform for his strongest talent, storytelling. He tells raw, critical tales about the anxieties and melancholy that defined the early 60s. I really identify with his insistent otherness, his commitment to the socialist-leaning morality of Pete Seeger-esque folk (who I adore), and his critical view of current events on this record — all of which is tinged with his personal brand of skewed melancholy that my soul really gravitates toward as I get older. Historically cited as one of the best albums of all time, Bob’s arguably greatest record is a quintessential example of the outsized importance given to white male artists during the rise of the pop music critic culture we know today, the vestiges of which we’ve only started shedding in the last decade or so as western anglo hetero cultural dominance is being leveled out for a more inclusive landscape to flourish. Is it worthy of all that notoriety? For sure. But with 60 years between its release and today, the cult of Bob feels archaic. He always hated the ‘voice of a generation’ monicker anyway, and viewed himself more as an opportunistic conduit more than anything. He summed this up himself in an interview around this record’s release: “The songs are there. They exist all by themselves just waiting for someone to write them down. I just put them down on paper. If I didn't do it, somebody else would.” If he was up-and-coming today with the same spirit he had then, he would def align with the liberal stances that dominate today’s pop culture, and the stories defining our times would be filtered through that same world-weary kid from Minnesota to similar ends. What would a contemporary bb Dylan have to say about transgender rights, the culture of inclusivity, the rise of technology, and the continued injustice in the world today?

The singles from The Killers debut were an inescapable part of the musical landscape during my final years in high school. I didn’t really like the album then, and that hasn’t changed 20 years later. While the hooks on the singles are catchy, having lived through the release of this album it’s hard to say whether that’s an objective quality or one based on those songs’ ubiquity during that period of my life. If I had to pick a song that I liked, “Smile Like You Mean It” is the best song on the album, tho I def won’t listen to it again voluntarily. I was pleasantly surprised by the soul-infused rock on the second half of “All These Things That I’ve Done”, and I appreciate the stylistic and production choices on “Everything Will Be Alright”, but like all of The Killers music it is cancelled out by Brandon Flowers mediocre songwriting and a voice that, while technically sound, lacks anything of interest for me, and feels vacant of any effective emotional character. And that delay chorus effect that defined his vocals performances on this album is a bold choice, its used to excess on nearly every track rendering it exhausting. As a big fan of the long arcs of dance punk and post punk, the influence those genres have on their sound is obvious, but their execution falls flat when compared to other bands around this time that successfully build on those same aesthetics — the most striking of which were debut records by The Strokes, The Rapture, Frank Ferdinand, and LCD Soundsytem to name a few, all of which I still love to this day.

Revisiting this album today in the wake of their epic about-face into electronic music that is now their definitive sound, their first two records (and half of the third Ok Computer) leading up to Kid A feel like anomalies in their discography — almost functioning like demos and earlier incarnations for any other band. But Radiohead was an excellent alterntaive band, and their first three records produced their megahits and are to this day their most streamed albums by a shockingly wide margin. It’s clear and well known that their foray into electronic music turned off a huge swath of their original fanbase. They synthesized many aspects of the genres of the era and tinged it with their enjoyable pretentious stance. This is my favorite of their alt rock releases, and really demonstrates the musicianship and budding experimental and textural nature of their band members. I absolutely love Johnny Greenwood, and his dynamic with Thom reminds me of the dynamic between Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, a true creative partnership divided along the lyric/music divide that makes up songwriting. The brother dynamic between Johnny and Colin surely provided cohesion that, paired with Phil Selway’s precise unassuming drumming make for a band that moves as one. And of course their longtime producer Nigel Godrich is basically the band’s sixth member, a huge propelling force behind their dedication to experimentation. The bipolar nature of their output over their first decade of music making taken together lays-bare an incredible commitment to evolution as a core facet of their dna; Radiohead is a band that always sounds like they’re searching for a new identity with each and every song they create — a manic precocious teen in a dressing room never fully satisfied with what they see in the mirror but resoundingly self-assured in their identity. Kid A turned me into a Radiohead-head. In my eyes they can do no wrong, and they have crafted some of my favorite songs and albums that sit firmly in the catalog of music I continuously return to over and over again. I’ve invested so much emotional energy and life memories into their music and this album is no exception. They’ve soundtracked many tumultuous growth periods in my life, in no small part due to the fact that they are neurotic and melancholic and tragic to their core, especially with a fearless leader as nuanced and idiosyncratic as Thom. The future band they will become can be heard in these songs, but it’s buried under the stylistic forces that defined the era. And that’s not a bad thing. In hindsight it’s apparent that their most popular music on their first three albums, this one included, showcase an immensely talented band not quite sure who they want to be, all the while producing groundbreaking music with mass appeal that afforded them the time and space to explore uncharted territory, ultimately opening up new frontiers for countless bands in their wake to further explore.

I had no clue who Elvis Costello was when I found this album digging in my early 20s. As collectors are want to do, the cover immediately spoke to me so I bought it, an instinct that never fails to deliver interesting music — and evidence of the integral relationship between visuals and sound in contemporary popular music. The now iconic sleeve art was designed by Barney Bubbles, the influential resident designer at Stiff records who helped pioneer artistic-driven album artwork through his work in the independent music coming out of England during the mid to late 70s. I hauled my records home that day, threw This Year’s Model on first and was so taken by its sound. It sparked a longtime love for label mates Elvis Costello and Nick Lowe, who produced the entire album and whose debut Jesus of Cool came out the same month in 1978, another record I adore. Over the next couple of years I filled my collection with many of Costello and Lowe’s early works, and they remain some of my all time favs. These two bespectacled british guys exuded a coolness I had never encountered before. They were close collaborators, and they both cultivated a distinctive blend of two burgeoning styles of the time, punk and new wave. Other notable UK bands working in the same vein included The Clash, the Buzzcocks, The Jam, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The English Beat, and The Specials to name a few, the last of which Costello produced their debut, and whose release was only a few months after this record. Sheesh so many “The”s lol, and so many great bands coming on the scene! That period from 1976-1980 was such an energetic moment in rock and pop music, from which those two genres punk and new wave were sprouting from. In America bands like Devo, Talking Heads, and Blondie were channeling similar energy, and on the international stage Fela’s afrobeat and Marley’s reggae were huge influences on this scene’s sound. One key aspect of was the importance of powerful rhythm sections paired with catchy riffs and songwriting, and Costello’s mastery of both aspects is on full display. The trio backing Costello, The Attractions, also played a huge part in the record’s sound, sonically and literally the driving force behind Costello’s songwriting. What’s so striking about the instrumentation is how de-prioritized the guitar is in the arrangements and mixes, and just how good they are. “(I Don’t Want To Go To) Chelsea” is easily my favorite song on this record, and it’s a perfect example of what incredible musicians they are. They are regarded as one of the best backing rhythm sections of all time — the music speaks for itself. Pete Thomas’ drumming is so iconic and technically perfect, and Bruce and Steve’s bass and keys, respectively, are locked into such pleasing grooves the entire time. The keyboards are also stylistically distinct: the constant organ throughout is arguably one of the most recognizable parts of this record, always funky and insistent and sounding so much like electronic synths, at times even resembling yet-invented video game sounds, as heard on “Living in Paradise”. And of course Costello’s vocals are so energetic and insistent — iconic. Elvis Costello is such a singular voice. The hallmark of great artists is their ability to rise above trends and styles. His influences are clearly on display, but he merges and synthesizes them into something greater, something all his own. He straddles the precarious line between mainstream success and artistic authenticity with such style and grace. What a legend!

Albums like these are what I’m most excited about during this project. Hearing amazing art by artists you love for other amazing works elicits such joy. Like catching glimpses of people you love before you knew them, falling in love with their past selves, recognizing and admiring that they all sprouted from the same person you find so endearing. They were always themselves. Bjork is the empress of contemporary experimental independent music. Her unique phrasing and rhythm, keen musical sense, and broad stylistic palette consistently produces eccentric, ground-breaking music. There are few artist that have an instantly recognizable sound all their own, and Bjork sits high on that council. Her debut to the world on Debut is breathtaking. I was always aware of who Bjork was, aware of her distinct voice, aware of her pretense as a real artist among artists. But I had never really listened to any of her records before 2007’s Volta. Her genius is fresh and raw on every track on Debut. Bjork notably distills the spirit and aesthetic of UK electronic and dance music of that time and fuses it with her traditional musical training and idiosyncratic, navel-gazing persona, creating a novel hybrid pop music that sounds nothing like the inspirations it draws from. She sounds as natural and spontaneous atop a thumping, trance house track (Violently Happy — that echo’d vocal and build mid song!!) as she does within a traditional jazz standard (‘Like Someone In Love’) or on the brass-only finale that is a dead-ringer for the wobbly, off-kilter style of contemporary jazzman Sam Gendel. This is a new favorite of mine, and I’ve been listening to it constantly since it popped up here. Coming in just over 48 minutes across 11 tracks, Bjork traverses an impressive amount of musical territory, and despite her nomadic instincts she effortlessly adorns her stylistic and subjective muses with her trademark, forever-foreign Bjork-ness. Few artist exist who are a genre unto themselves. Bjork may be one of the sharpest examples of this in contemporary music.

People used to dance to jazz. At the start of the twentieth century the nascent genre was born, and by the 1930s jazz was dominating airwaves and dance floors during the swing era, so called for the music’s rhythmic trait and the dance style it inspired. Jazz abruptly shifted out of the spotlight as popular music moved on to other budding genres including R&B and rock, and it was around this time that jazz permanently shifted its gaze inward, becoming less focused on inspiring corporeal reactions from its listeners on a dance floor and instead setting its sights on cerebral pursuits including technical expertise, experimentation, and improvisational prowess, making the music more complex and intentionally unpredictable — ultimately making it less approachable as it aged. By the early 70s Herbie Hancock was over a decade into his career, and he was determined to return jazz to the dance floor. During those first ten years Herbie made significant contributions to the growing catalog of jazz standards, scored, conducted, and performed three major motion picture soundtracks, and spent years as an integral member in a few of Miles Davis’ consequential bands of the late 60s. But the headier territory jazz was entrenched in frustrated Herbie. The three albums leading up to Head Hunters made with his Mwandishi band from ‘70-‘73 were arguably in this vein: while the music of that period was the most visceral and raw of his career (Sextant is another classic album of his), and the virtuosity and synchronicity of the band was undeniably on display during live shows at the time — these albums built on the spaced-out fusion aesthetic that bloomed after Miles Davis’ landmark fusion records Bitches Brew (1970) and In A Silent Way (1969), the latter of which featured Herbie on the Fender Rhodes. Jazz had become pretentiously self-indulgent during fusion’s rise, and was in desperate need of a fresh approach. The late 60s/early 70s was a revolutionary time for most musical genres. Herbie was a fan of all kinds of music, and Sly & The Family Stone was a particularly favorite band of his. Sly’s psychedelic spin on James Brown’s funk expanded that genre, and Herbie wondered whether he could intertwine jazz and funk in a similar fashion — and by doing so bring jazz back into the popular music fold, something young hip folks put on at parties and danced to, and that DJs played on popular radio. And so Herbie conceived an approach and assembled a band, the Headhunters. Their eponymous debut record changed jazz forever. It reached No. 13 on the Billboard charts and eventually went platinum, and it is the second-best selling jazz record of all time — it’s also worth noting that Herbie and Miles hold 5 places on that top 10 best seller list. The forty minute, four-track Head Hunters is stylistically and technically impressive, bursting with joyful funky energy every second of its run time. Every member of the Headhunters is firing on all cylinders, all aces on their respective instruments. The album is dominated by the rhythm section, and the grooves that come out of their collective pocket are so infectious. The record is propelled by Harvey Mason’s incredibly funky patterns. James Brown’s drummers Clyde Stubbeldield and John Starks are rightfully considered the greatest funk drummers of all time, but had Mason dedicated to playing how he did on this record his whole career he would’ve easily snatched that title from their deserving, time-keeping heads. Most of the record Mason is restrained, deceptively simple in his execution, but firmly locked into patterns that are so pleasantly off beat, a skill he honed playing a wide array of genres as one of the standout session drummers in the entire music business who backed countless jazz and rock stars during that era. With support from Paul Jackson on bass and Bill Summers on percussion (and famously on half-full beer bottle for the whistling riff that opens ‘Watermelon Man’), the rhythm section was firmly rooted in place allowing Hancock to express his unique sense of modalities and melodies using an assortment of electronic keys and synths. Head Hunters overachieved its aims, energizing a genre that had grown stuffy and intellectual, and propelling him even further ahead of his peers; Herbie was a jazz virtuoso with enough accolades to fill multiple careers at the time this album was released, and Head Hunters turned him into a pop star. Herbie remained fixed on that upward trajectory and continued to merge jazz with popular music trends decade after decade, consistently chipping away at the exterior of jazz music until a new form is born.

I admire Yusef’s dedication to his beliefs — and for his willingness to leave his music career behind to staunchly uphold that dedication — but I’ve always struggled with his music. Cat Stevens was not an artist I grew up on whatsoever. I was introduced to his music through digging in the crates in my early 20s, and at one point I owned the quartet of albums he released at the height of his creativity, from 1970-1973. The artistry of his songwriting and singing is self-evident. His dynamic arrangements and vocal performances oscillate between quiet and raucous, expertly creating and releasing tension to accentuate the emotional core of his storytelling. And the recordings are pleasantly crisp and dry, engineered to sound as natural as possible. I also agree with the dominant themes woven into his music and activism. But after re-visiting Tea for The Tillerman uninterrupted a handful of times, I was reminded of why I never latched on to his art despite its positive qualities: the music is dainty, full of corny tenderness and didactic narratives, and as is the case with many folksy singer-songwriters, the tracks lack stylistic distinction and all start sounding the same when heard in succession. His quiet-to-loud song structure becomes annoyingly predictable, and when his voice reaches those higher registers of emotion I find the growly, strained quality grating. With all that said, the power of his mega hits is not lost on me, nearly all of which are from this record and the release that followed it the year after, Teaser and The Firecat. I can appreciate their greatness, but only from a distance. No matter how many times I hear them they never seem to penetrate my taste on a deeper level.

In the age of DAWs and smartphone studios, music created using physical, analog tools and techniques seems so archaic and cumbersome by comparison. Bridge Over Troubled Water was meticulously engineered and crafted before those convenient, time-saving innovations, and Roy Halee was the mastermind behind most of that sonic wizardry. He conjured intriguing, mysterious dynamics from knobs and dials and microphone arrays on all of Simon and Garfunkel’s records during their five album affair over as many years. His efforts created an immersive and expansive soundscape that carved out ample space for the strength of their vocal performances to shine through. To exemplify the trios dedication to novel recording techniques — and subsequently to the unique sonic qualities those efforts produce — the enormous, delayed gated reverb that trails the snare on the chorus of ‘The Boxer’ (a definitive aspect of one of their biggest songs) was famously recorded in an open Columbia Studios elevator shaft, simultaneously tracked alongside the rest of the band in a nearby studio, connected by cables snaking down the hallway. On previous albums there are notable inclusions of audio Art recorded with portable equipment while talking to and interviewing strangers — quirky, real-life moments that imbue the songs and records with an ethereal quality. This technique brought the outside world into the studio, and would be further employed and developed by artists that followed. We are now familiar with many examples of this across all genres of music — movie quotes, answering machines and voice memos, elaborate skits, and ambient environmental field recordings are commonplace today, but this was a novel, nascent innovation at the time. Despite the success of their collaboration, Paul and Art were already on the outs and set to break up when this record was released in 1970. The album’s last track ‘Song for the Asking’ is an on-the-nose ending, the final song on their final album — two friends book-ending an immensely successful creative and commercial partnership with dignity and grace. IMO this is not the greatest Simon and Garfunkel record. They had a legendary run of albums from ’66-’69 included Sounds of Silence, Parsley Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme, The Graduate OST, and Bookends, of which my favorites are Bookends and PSR&T. Those two records found the duo at their most creative and exploratory as they formed their definitive sound that’s on full, effortless display on Bridge. And while the songwriting and vocals are impressive in their own right, the duos musicianship was amplified by a crucial partnership with members of The Wrecking Crew. This legendary collection of musicians literally played on every consequential album during their reign in the 60s and 70s, and they were essential to the sound of all five Simon and Garfunkel records. Their origin as a backing band is important to note here, as they started as Phil Spector’s band and helped him create what would be coined as the “wall of sound” — an approach that stacked many instruments on top of each other, replicating chords, melodies, and rhythms that propelled even mediocre songs toward infectious grooviness. This approach is palpable on all five of Paul and Art’s records. When you incorporate Paul Simon’s fascination with the rhythmic and sonic qualities of world music, what results is a bold, adventurous execution of pop music that feels timelessly fresh.

Let’s set the stage: it’s 1973, and it’s been three years since the Beatles split. Paul quickly releases solo material under his own name, and then as RAM with his wife Linda. ‘McCartney’ (1970) — Paul’s first solo release that actually preceded the Beatles final release ‘Let It Be’ — is brimming with unexpressed energy. He plays everything on the album, apart from supporting vocals from Linda, and it shows. The results reframed this living-legend’s songwriting and production in stark, definitely (and exclusively) McCartney strokes. Remember he is at the top of his game at this point in his career, and ‘McCartney’ is a defiant claim for creative autonomy. The fact that ‘Kreen-Akore’ — a track comprised of different drum breaks, rhythmic breathing, and disparate instrumental ideas all performed by Paul — caps an album full of so many now-classic McCartney songs sheds light on a musician who is eager to make a statement, but is uncertain what it is they want to say — and more importantly — how to say it. Paul’s overflowing post-Beatles creativity produced 5 albums with a rotating cast of collaborators that collectively cast a wide stylistic net in the three years between the Beatles end and this record. Band On The Run sits atop that impressive output as a singular piece of exceptional art made (mostly) by one human being. A majority of the music heard on this record is played by Paul himself. Through his groundbreaking engineering work with the Beatles, McCartney became not only a virtuoso on every instrument in his own band, but became an expert multi-track recording artist capable of making multiple, individually recorded takes of his own performances sound like an entire band of Paul’s playing in one harmonious, glorious effort. The Paul’s rhythm section has a solid grip on grooves that the other Pauls then take and fill with harmonic and thematic ideas, all orchestrated by the head Paul, the ace songwriter and musician. The Beatles are truly great. I love nearly everything they’ve ever made. But Paul’s solo career reaches such greater heights in my mind because he was a true genius with the technical know how and an obsessive, perfectionist tendency that when unleashed on itself propelled him to manical, madly brilliant work.

There are lots of examples of groundbreaking bands/albums whose impact and influence only grow after their disbandment/release. The Stone Roses were somewhere in the middle; their eponymous debut would eventually became popular later in the year it was released, 1989, but because they were a new band that had a tumultuous relationship with their label, that popularity was not immediate or longstanding. To my ears, it is immediately apparent how forward-thinking this record is, and why it is so-widely revered by musicians and critics alike. They merged the ancient psychedelia and aging punk eras with the burgeoning dance and alternative scenes, both of which were becoming mainstream during the late 80s/early 90s, especially in the UK. They executed that fusion so effortlessly, and despite the band feeling like the album did not adequately live up to their intentions its impact is undeniable to our contemporary ears. They established and pioneered a stylistic DNA that would be leveraged by so many consequential bands from the late 90s up to today. Even if their influence on those bands was not direct, there’s no doubt that The Stone Roses opened that door. I had never heard of the band or this record prior to this project. While the lyrics and thematic concepts might leave a little more to be desired, their innovative sound more than makes up for it. And this record is an absolute joy to listen to. Undeniable, well-executed pop radio hits sit alongside sprawling, nearly 10-minute tracks that merge extended dance floor-ready break beats and grooves with playfully funky, decorative guitar playing and vocals — and it’s this dichotomy that is essential to the greatness on display here. Rarely are such bipolar debuts considered classics, primarily because bands in their infancy often swerve all over the place in exciting, but ultimately unfocused directions as they figure out their identity and approach. The Stone Roses are doing just that, but they do it with the confidence and coolness of seasoned pros, ultimately presenting a sound that is fully realized. The cards were stacked against this band continuing their success beyond this debut record. Difficulties with their label from the outset — and the frustrated, angry dynamic that it injected into their chemistry as a band — mired their ascent to well-deserved greatness. They were never able to establish firm footing in the music industry to capitalize on their resounding critical success, and that stumbling, primarily caused by label mismanagement, quickly eroded their ability to continue creating amazing music. This is an absolute classic, and I can’t stop listening to ‘Fools Gold’!

There’s a lot going on on this album. The most endearing quality is the wreckless abandon with which they dedicate their sound to experimentation. Ultimately the unfocused spirit of the record renders it an enjoyable listen that fades out of focus seconds after the music stops. Pleasant, admirable, unmemorable. Fatboy Slim flipped the single ‘Brimful of Asha’ into a global pop hit. His remix is identified with his actual name, Norman Cook; his debut record as Fatboy Slim had dropped less than a year before this Cornershop release in 1997. Rob Swift, founding member of the ground-breaking turntableist crew the X-Cutioners, remixes a track fresh off the release of his scratching group’s debut as well. This is all to say that time and place are key ingredients influencing the music on this record. There’s a lot happening musically in ’97: Hip Hop producers are emerging as artists in their own right (DJs Qbert, Krush, and Shadow, Prince Paul, Mix Master Mike), trip-hop has a stronghold on UK electronic music (Massive Attack, Portishead, UNKLE — Ninja Tune!) and of course Britpop (Blur, Oasis, et. al.). From that stewing scene Cornershop bubbles up. There’s extensive use of sounds, effects, and production techniques becoming popular at the time, and which were already become hallmarks defining the growing branches of electronic music (mix of organic/sampled, vocoders, sub-bass textures, dub use of delay, non-western samples). These techniques and styles are not always expertly executed, but their collective, consistent experimentation is admirable: they are committed to creating tracks that sit outside the bounds of expected pop song structures of any genre. I hear a strong connection between the soundscape Cornershop etched out on this record and the 2010s world-expanding phase Madlib is still immersed in — break beats, samples sourced from unexpected nooks and crannies of the world, sporadic vocals, voices from pop culture artifacts like documentaries, movies, and found footage — unexpected and undeniably groovy. A few things really stick out to me after listening to this record a few times. They employ a lot of classic break beats known at the time, a reflection of the expanding electronic music scene outlined above. The instrumental tracks are by-far the best parts of the album. And when vocals show up they’re unaffected, referential, posturing, slouching toward coolness — and the first thing that came to mind was James Murphy (lol). It sounds like there are two records fighting each other in this one release, and both suffer as a result; many of the songs feel like unfinished sketches, demos at best. I actually like this record. It grows on me with every listen, but it succeeds most as background music: inoffensively groovy, mid tempo’d, and varying enough to set a nice upbeat vibe that neither distracts nor entices. Familiar and foreign in the same hand. And when you do decide to listen closer you’ll discover stylistic nods to the music they were undoubtedly influenced by at the time, a half-hearted pastiche of the contemporary electronic music trends all around them — and today a fascinating time capsule of musical notes from a bygone era.

Legendary jazz record producer and label owner (CTI) Creed Taylor and saxophonist Stan Getz single-handedly ushered in the bossa nova wave in the United States with the hit record Jazz Samba in 1961, which included the wildly popular track ‘Desafinado’ (this record also includes ‘Saudade Vem Correndo’ which J Dilla sampled for the Pharcyde’s genre-shifting track ‘Runnin’). Getz and Taylor released three more bossa nova records to wild success, the final of which was this album, Getz/Gilberto. The Brazilian artists Taylor and Getz collaborated with during this four album run were pioneers of the distinctive bossa nova sound, and this record featured the cream of that crop: legendary guitarist João Gilberto and composer Antônio Carlis Jobim, both considered as two of the genre’s founding artists. An aspect of this genre that heavily contributed to it’s wide public popularity was its ‘easy listening’ nature — a now-satirical genre associated with corny jazz music used in waiting settings: elevators, lobbies, stores, hold music, etc. But at the time of this release, this sound was new and exciting. It merged both the samba rhythm and the definition-escaping saudade nature of Brazilian music and culture with the influential ‘west coast jazz’ movement in the US that introduced hypnotically slower, melodic and more intimate form of jazz that in turn was easier to listen to then the abrasive jazz trends that grew out of bop and big band in the 30s and 40s, and the esoteric free and fusion movements that were just taking root in the mid 60s. Getz was a pioneer of the west coast sound, having developed a tone known colloquially as ‘the sound’ — smooth, melodic, pleasant. This is not to diminish his chops as a soloist and composer. The record he released just before this string of bossa nova records, Focus, is his greatest album imo, it’s such a complex, exploratory dive into large arrangement jazz, and Getz plays much more vigorously amidst that elevated, conceptual sound. Getz/Gilberto is a classic record, there’s no debating its wild popular success and stylistic accomplishment — it is *the* defining record of bossa nova. But Getz is a problematic figure to say the least. He was a notorious womanizer, and developed a reputation of being pugnacious and extremely difficult to work with, two qualities that he brought to the making of this album. The vocalist Astrid Gilberto, then-wife of João Gilberto, was shot into stardom with a serendipitous decision made in the studio to have her record the English vocals despite having never recorded a single song in her life. Astrid’s vocal performance is one of the essential components that helped the song ‘Girl From Ipanema’ gain mainstream crossover success. The track’s accolades included shooting to number 5 on the Billboard charts, winning the Grammy for Best Record, and crucially helping the album win Best Album — a first for a jazz record, and something that wouldn’t happen for 43 years until 2007 when Herbie Hancock won for the exceptional Joni Mitchell tribute ‘River: The Joni Letters’. Despite the massive success of the song and album, Astrid’s naivety led to her not being credited as a performer, which meant that she wouldn’t earn any royalties from the song which is still, to this day, one of the most popular jazz songs of all time. Getz and Gilberto insisted that Astrid was merely a tool, that it was their genius that put that tool to work to create a masterpiece; her involvement, from their telling, was incidental, a byproduct of circumstance and therefore she should not receive credit. During interviews following the release, both Getz and Gilberto doubled-down on this perspective, and Getz specifically continued to insist behind the scenes that Astrid not receive any royalties. And she was not the first to experience this: Getz, like many leading jazzmen of the era, wanted all the credit (and money). And he wanted to have his cake and eat it too: following the recording of this record he had a brief affair with Astrid that led to her breakup with João Gilberto. Astrid went on to have a successful career, in no small part thanks to this iconic song. Her soft, casually sexy voice and delivery influenced generations of female vocalist including Sade and Tracy Thorn of Everything but the Girl. She worked with legendary jazzmen and arrangers throughout her career, but her impressive discography will be forever shadowed by the towering success of that fateful first song she recorded for this record. Her influence wasn’t limited to her music either. She too often in her career was unfortunate collateral damage in an industry that remains aggressively exploitative of women artists, but she became an advocate for women demanding respect in the industry, especially in dealings with major record labels. She died in 2023, but her spirit lives on through this song for the rest of time.

Fugazi is the definitive post-hardcore band. Lead singer Ian Mackaye was at the vanguard of the straight edge movement prior to Fugazi as the frontman of Minor Threat. In the 8 years between Minor Threat’s last record and Fugazi’s first album, Ian Mackaye had played in countless bands, honing his sound from the intense raw energy hardcore introduced to the punk scene, to music that leaned into alternative takes on traditional rock genres. The impact this album had on indie and mainstream rock genres henceforth is immense. Over nearly 15 years, Fugazi continually swam upstream, trailblazing so many experimental approaches that eventually solidified into established sub genres: they notably fused melody and screaming into a sound that would later be popularized by emo and pop punk, they were a critical link in the chain whip that would lead to grunge and garage rock, and the palpable dissonance and experimentation they achieved feels like a choice that embodies the rebellious, anti-capitalist stance of its members, Mackaye especially. I’ve always found his ethical and moral positioning admirable for the strict adherence to principle and the flagrant anti-capitalist foundation. Any band/artist that can shift entire genres into uncharted territory is worthy of consideration, and Mackaye did that twice in his career. Anyone making these kinds of monumental waves in art and culture deserves our highest praises, regardless of whether their creations and opinions are to your taste.

There is so much lore around Buffalo Springfield graduates Crosby, Stills, and Nash — and the later addition of the wild man eccentric Neil Young. They were absolute superstars in their own right, and the various configurations they assembled during this era of rock dominated the genre. Despite all of their individual successes, Stephen Stills was the clear leader, both in terms of personality and ego, and in sheer musical talent; he earned the nickname ‘Captain Many Hands’ given his indefatigable energy and efforts in the studio. Stills exists in the pantheon of multi-instrumentalists who are also excellent song writers and captivating performers. His skill and impact can’t be understated during this golden era of dude rock. His two solo debuts released during the CSN(Y) tumult, Stephen Stills (1970) and Stephen Stills 2 (1971) are classics in their own right, but those records featured Stills as a towering one-man band, with incredible support that included a who’s who of the eras one-name greats: Hendrix, Clapton, Booker, Jerry, and Ringo to name a few — a sure flex and testament to his importance and standing in popular rock music. Manassas (1972) is Stills first release following the official breakup of the supergroup, and his first with this new exceptional band that is the namesake of the album. This record featured Stills as the leader of a band full of pros, freeing him to focus on lead guitar, vocals, and various keyboard instruments. His guitar playing on this record is probably the best of his career, and by his own account this album is the best work of his career. Stills and Manassas roam across genres, but the album is firmly rooted in bluegrass, a welcome and fitting focus from his mostly blues and rock-centric music up to this point. The latin rhythms and grooves that pepper the album are so unexpected, but they pull it off so well, and it lends an otherwise pure Americana record a sheen of global influence. My fav track is ‘Both of Us (Bound To Lose)’, and it is one of the only songs on the album without Stills handling lead vocals. The only drawback of this record imo is its runtime. Despite the mastery and synchronicity on display, the stand-out tracks get lost in the sprawling expanse that is Manassas (to be clear though, there are no duds on this album). This would be a classic were it not for this fact, and the album from a modern perspective feels like a deluxe or expanded edition wherein great but not-great-enough-to-make-the-cut songs from recording sessions are included to afford fans a wider view into the interplay and chemistry of the band.

I had no reference for the kind of music Jethro Tull made, and was completely unfamiliar with any of it. Based on the name I expected something in the country/classic rock cannon, but I was pleasantly surprised by the level of sophistication and musicality their approach to prog rock possessed. Stylistically diverse, dense but critical lyrics, and excellent performances throughout. I am now a fan of rock flute!

I bought a tapestry of this cover from Tower Records and had it on my wall next to a poster of the cover of Illmatic throughout high school until I moved out on my own for college. Through Rage I learned about the power of speaking truth to power. They arose atop a continuum of radical politics and fuck you mentality elemental to punk and hardcore, fusing that unapologetic posturing with Zach's rap-influenced delivery and swag. A lifelong love of this musical tradition was sparked in me. Through Zach I was introduced to Noam Chomsky, from an extended interview he did with him in the early days of YouTube, circa 2002. That sparked a deep interest in Noam's expansive work as a linguist and activist. Exposure to his work had an outsized influence on the development of my own worldview, and before I dropped out of college I had intended to find a path through college focused on linguistics. 33 years later, this album's subject matter is still depressingly relevant, maybe even moreso than when it was released. The music is aggressively in your face, and the urgency they conjure up will surely influence generations to come. This album is a populist scream, and until we've reached true equity and peace it will continue to be blared by disaffected youth.

This album was released to critical acclaim as a landmark in electronic music, and its praises are still being sung thirty years later. The production techniques, tempos, chilled-out modalities, classic hip hop samples, integration of live instrumentation, and fusion of genres were a revelation. Released in 1991 ‘Blue Lines’ individually ushered in a new sound that would come to be known as trip-hop. It predated the genres next wave of classics by three years: Portishead’s ‘Dummy’, Nightmares On Wax’s ‘Smokers Delight’, and DJ Shadow’s ‘Endtroducing’ came out in 1994, and were in direct conversation with the groundbreaking sound Massive Attack established on ‘Blue Lines’. Contemporary listeners discovering this album for the first time amidst the enormous electronic landscape today may find the sound and production dated. Early hip hop records released in the few years before and after ‘Blue Lines’ suffer from a similar reaction from modern audiences. Electronic production technology has evolved drastically since ‘91, and while the music may not be to the taste of today’s listeners, the impact these records had catapulted electronic music on a trajectory that would become the dominant musical expression of the future. Regardless of the schism between old and new inherit in ever musical tradition, the innovation on ‘Blue Lines’ cannot be overstated. Artists that push their art form into completely new territories are cemented into the foundation of a new landscape — and though it may crack and crumble over time under the weight of the beautiful, magnificent things built directly atop it, the structure they provided to generations of artists that follow must be recognized and respected, not unlike placards and monuments posted and erected at the foot of sparkling, sky-high buildings.

Kraftwerk broke ground time and again, pioneering electronic music and laying the groundwork for generations of artists, from their debut in 1974 to the present day — an impressive 50 years of powerful influence over an approach to music that dominates most of today's popular genres. Any aspects of their music that might be considered shortcomings (in my eyes there are none) are easily outweighed by their mastery of electronic production, and their undeniably infectious rhythmic and melodic sense. Their musical prowess coupled with the artistry of their group persona and performances asserts them as not only one of the best music acts of all time, but some of the greatest artists in history as well. Their entire catalog is five stars for me.

Easily the greatest hip hop record of all time. Nasty Nas forever.

Black Moses started his career as a studio session pianist for Stax in the early sixties. Within a few years Hayes began penning songs with David Porter, and the two would go on, along with Stax' legendary house band Booker T. & The M.G.'s, to propel the label to its status as the definitive soul powerhouse during the height of the genre's influence in the 1960s. He stepped out from behind the scenes with his debut record as a solo artist in 1968. While the record demonstrated his musical and compositional chops, the record proved to be a toe-in-the-water moment that gave him the confidence to break the nascent soul genre wide-open a year later with 'Hot Buttered Soul.' The indulgent runtimes, incredible musicianship, opulent orchestral arrangements, overt psychedelic tinge, achingly vulnerable lyrics, extended spoken interludes, and conceptual lean pushed Soul and RnB into new frontiers, paving the way for other groundbreaking artists to propel the genre further into a future sound shortly thereafter — including notably visionaries in their own right: Curtis Mayfield, Sly and The Family Stone, Parliament Funkadelic, and The Isley Brothers. His influence on black music in the wake of 'Hot Buttered Soul' cannot be overstated. The commercial success of this record, and the equally influential string of subsequent hit records '…To Be Continued', 'Shaft', and 'Black Moses' released in the early 70s put a handful of Hayes' most consequential records into countless home record collections in the early 70s. Those records would be discovered by kids looking to express their musicality without traditional instruments in the mid eighties — eventually becoming a cornerstone of hip hop music's early development. Scanning the list of hip hop tracks that sampled Hayes' work, especially those on 'Hot Buttered Soul', is like taking a stroll through hip hop's first few decades. Black Moses was a godfather of rap, and he's been sampled nearly 2,000 times by countless producers.

When I first heard this record 15+ years ago I found it challenging to parse exactly what I was listening to. It felt then and remains today a genre-less exploration that merges aspects of various musical styles from around the world into something novel and future-facing. Eno and Byrne pack many influences and experimental techniques into the creation of this album that it continues to inspire me with every listen. The grooves are infectious, the playing crisp and technically impressive, and the instrumentation playful and inspired. Through a contemporary lens, the music they created together here along with a handful of other collaborators sounds like they channeled the mid career experimental funk of Sly Stone and the unparalleled precision of Nile Rogers' disco adjacent proto-dance guitar playing and production through the hazy worldview of Madlib's more experimental projects. This would be a five-star classic for me were it not for the vocal samples peppered throughout — aside from high points like the distorted vocals in 'A Secret Life' and 'Come With Us', the inclusion of sourced, non-musical audio samples feels very dated. They were undoubtedly groundbreaking in the early eighties, but in hindsight it feels contrived, especially given this technique has been used countless times across many genres since, everything from indie and emo to hip hop and techno. In addition to this misstep, the runtime of the songs on the back half of the record are noticeably shorter than the first, and while the entire record comes across as mostly unstructured jams, the music on the back half feels especially incomplete.

'Sea Change' was the second record Beck made with Nigel Godrich, the unofficial member of Radiohead who, just like George Martin did with The Beatles, produced every single Radiohead record to incredible ends. Beck and Nigel's first collaboration, 1998's 'Mutations' was a mixed bag — the beginnings of the stripped-down, world-weary singer/songwriter side of Beck is present, but that record had more upbeat moments. 'Sea Change' dug it's heels into the lusher, cinematic vibes from their first collaboration — an approach undoubtedly influenced by the persistent subject matter of 'Sea Change': heartbreak and transformation. 'Sea Change' is eery and moody, strongly evoking artists emerging from the initial folk boom of the early 60s like Leonard Cohen and Nick Drake who incorporated gorgeous string arrangements and maudlin posturing to great effect. The track 'Round The Bend' so closely resembles Nick Drake's 1969 track 'River Man' in both content and style — and their send-ups to the iconic sound throughout Drake's 'Five Leaves Left' are such pitch-perfect homages. But Beck and Nigel build on these influences, capturing the emotional and sonic essence while adorning it with more-modern instrumentation and production; tracks like 'Paper Tiger', 'Lonesome Tears', and 'End of The Day' hint at the work Nigel would go on to produce with the wave of expertly engineered European chill-out music Air and Zero 7 were pioneering a few years later. It's not hard to hear the threads connecting 2002's 'Sea Change' and 2014's grammy-winning 'Morning Phase'. 'Morning Phase' directly builds upon 'Sea Change', but the latter record, without the steady undercurrent of heartbreak, does not bore as deeply into the soul — it comes off as an incredible aesthetic achievement (again, grammy-winning) to vibe out to, and a record that end-capped the evolution of sad-boy Beck, but 'Sea Change' is without a doubt the better of the two — and possibly Beck's greatest, most complete work to date.

Coltrane fuses two nascent branches of the blooming jazz family tree in the early 60s, elevating the playful, spaced-out cosmic spirituality and afro-futurism of Sun Ra, and imbuing it with the unapologetically chaotic, avant garde free jazz of both Ornette Coleman and Eric Dolphy, bringing a level of seriousness, sophistication, and technical mastery to a genre he nearly single-handedly pioneered with this release: spiritual jazz. This is, without a doubt, one of the most important and impressive records ever created. Coltrane's quartet during this era had no small part in the excellence on display here. McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison, and Elvin Jones were already virtuoso's on their respective instruments, and Coltrane enlisted Rudy Van Gelder to record and engineer this record at his studio — Gelder being the most prolific, important recording engineer in jazz history was able to capture the raw, powerful nature of the quartet with his precise, spacious production techniques, cementing the final recording as a true masterpiece.

As a lad from the UK might say, this album has more bangers than a sausage factory.

Private Dancer was undoubtedly a huge moment in Tina Turner's career, her return to the spotlight after a rocky solo career post Ike, and it produced a handful of the biggest hits of her career. The 1980's were a completely different sonic landscape from the soul, rock, and blues driven 60s and 70s when Tina established herself as the icon she is with her then-husband Ike. She was able to adapt to a new sound and era of music on Private Dancer, her fourth solo record. While this record has a handful of more live, raw sounding songs that harken back to that earlier sound, they're mixed with songs that embody the stylistic and production techniques popular at the time: thin, dry, and a more rigid adherence to quantization — an unfitting soundscape at times. The success of these tracks is a mixed bag, and they ultimately make the record sound dated forty years later. David Bowie apparently urged Capitol records to give Tina a solo deal after seeing her perform live a few years into her solo career started in 1978, a gesture that Tina was eternally grateful for. But he also penned the worst song on the record, the bizarre 1984.

While In Rainbows is my favorite Radiohead record, Kid A is definitely their most important album and a close second for me. It dramatically widened the aperture of my musical radar, sparking a life-long love of indie electronica. This is also one of those records I have to listen to front-to-back. The descending fender rhodes line that opens the album is still a transcendent listening experiencing, especially as it merges with Thom's voice samples and vocal performance.

Quincy Jones perfectly described the impact and power of one of the highest achievements in music history that is Kind of Blue: it's "a work of art that explains what jazz is… I play Kind of Blue every day – it’s my orange juice. It still sounds like it was made yesterday."

B and I have this CD in our ~20 disc truck collection. We saw him play it live during his tour celebrating the 20th anniversary. Big fan White Ladder. This record is such an enigma, still feels fresh every time I listen to it. What I love about his music is what I also love about an adjacent group that preceded Gray by half a decade, Everybody But The Girl: incredible songwriting, iconic vocal performances, excellent understated production, electronically-tinged. A pleasant, hushed sound — romantic, contemplative, melancholic. When this record took off two years after being self-released in 1998, the scene that birthed Coldplay was already well underway, spurred in no small part by Radiohead’s meteoric debut earlier in the decade. The stock of UK artists in this vein continued stacking up into the 2010s, and continued skyward atop the shoulders of Ed Sheeran into the present day. David Gray’s White Ladder is a foundational brick of that edifice, the UK’s storied white male singer-songwriter tradition that goes back centuries.

1977 was a big year for punk music in the UK. While the US punk scene started at least a decade earlier, The Clash, Sex Pistols, Buzzcocks, and the Damned all released their debuts the same year, and punk music worldwide was never the same. The Clash is an undisputed classic — raw, political, anthemic. The initial US release came two years later in 1979, and it cut four songs, added a few ones recorded after the original UK release, and the track order was resequenced. This has been corrected with the remastered version in 2013, and it's now the only one streaming. Having grown up on the US release, I felt like I was listening to it for the first time when the corrected version came out 35 years later. Unlike other foundational punk bands, The Clash continued to evolve musically. Their magnum opus London Calling would come two years later, but their prowess and potential is on full display here. They fully embodied what made punk music that came before them so urgent and intense, but they injected a political focus and positivity that wasn't as entrenched in the punk scene as it may seem in hindsight, and they pushed the genre musically, bringing a level of musicianship, songwriting, song structure, and production that wasn't typical for the genre at that time. I'm so bored with the USA! White riot, I wanna riot! London's burning!

I love Bowie. This record looms large in my mind, and is a standout in a long career that produced over 25 albums, many of which are classics in their own right. He crafted Blackstar in the wake of receiving his fateful diagnosis, and it was released a week before he died. Created with longtime collaborator Tony Visconti and a handful of jazz musicians in tow, this dark and meditative album is his most far-out, and my favorite by far. Bowie mentioned that he listened to Kendrick Lamar's groundbreaking To Pimp A Butterfly a lot while recording this and it shows both stylistically and thematically. His willingness to confront his eminent death head-on with such courage and intensity is palpable. I can't listen to this record passingly or piecemeal, and this morning was the first time I listened to it in a long while. Such an emotional experience for me — tears of sadness, joy, and awe every time I listen.

Absolute classic. Foundational record of electronic, sample-based music that enabled generations of beat-junkie producers to craft and release instrumental albums. And a bay area native to boot: he recorded most of this record with the help of fellow producer (and roomate) Dan The Automator at his studio the Glue Factory, a glorified basement under his parents' home somewhere out in the Sunset. Dan is a legend in his own right, and he continued to further-define a distinctive, alternative hip-hop influenced sound following Endtroducing that is all over this 1001 list (see Gorillaz, Dr. Octagon, Cronershop, and Primal Scream).

Massive commercial and critical success. Deserves the endless, effusive praise it continually earns as successive generations of music lovers discover this classic. This album also introduced the band's now-iconic four emblems to the world, a decision led by art school dropout Jimmy Page. Each band member chose (or designed in Jimmy's and Robert's case) a symbol they felt represented them, a unique and fitting nod to their obsession with folklore and mythology that continued their use of striking visuals meant to evoke the mystical origins their music draws deep inspiration from. It was also an attempt at maintaining some semblance of anonymity that they surely struggled to uphold as their superstar status continually reinforced itself.

Al Green can croon and squeal in the same verse. His signature, syrupy tone was fully developed by the time he started making this record — the nuanced nature of his voice, at once delicate and powerful, is laid bare atop Willie Mitchell's exceptional production. This was their third collaboration, and they would go on to make seven more. Their synergy really gained steam with Let's Stay Together, a massive hit single and landmark album for soul music. Willie's sound merged the grittier bluesy soul prevalent in Memphis with Philly's glossier polished brand of soul. This cross-pollination of soul music's expanding branches in the early 70s was complimented by Al and Willie's experience and interest in gospel music — evident in the sustained, full-bodied organ that Al effortlessly rides on nearly every song, both instrument and human voices intertwining, yearning and yelping in equal measure. The lush string, horn, and vocal harmony arrangements functioned similarly in their work together. These aspects are now definitive hallmarks of Al Green's intimate, delicate sound — and they set his music apart from the more abrasive, up-front horn and string arrangements coming out of Stax and Motown. Their approach to tempo also contributed to their singularity: their ballads were a hair faster than their contemporaries, and their upbeat tracks rarely hit the dancefloor, R&B inspired tempos prevalent up north. As a result their songs move along at an infectious pace, perfect mid-tempo tracks for swaying and two-stepping.