This thing is random, right? Three albums so far for me, all of them from 1977. Billy Joel (always pronounced Joh-El by me, as if he's related to Superman) is one of those artists... Let's put it this way, there's a bloke I know - just turned 30, so still young as far as I am concerned - he loves Billy Joel. Loves Elton John too. And Barry Manilow. He's been to see them all live. Loves artists who put on a "show", and if they can play the old Aunt Joanna, even better. "Safe" music, I call it. That said, I've got respect for Billy Joel. He digs The Beatles, and he obviously knows his stuff - in fact, I like to watch him talk about music, his own and other people's, and he generally makes a lot of sense and seems like a good guy (well, there was that time he totally lost his shit in Moscow). A talented guy though. I own all of his studio albums (yeah, even that classical one) and have given each of them ample chance to impress me over the years. Sadly, I always find them all just a bit... meh. Fine greatest hits album, of course, but the LPs themselves are just too inconsistent and, well, bland. But I was willing to give The Stranger another try, it does, after all, contain probably my favourite Joel composition. Even the slightly tongue-in-cheek accordion solo can't detract from the brilliance of Vienna. Melodically irresistible, it weaves its way between sentimentality and uplifting optimism without ever tumbling completely over either side of the precipice. A bit of a guilty pleasure for me, laid back, but the delivery is totally suited to the lyrical themes and the melody is convincing and compelling throughout. Not quite as successful, but still something of a guilty pleasure, Just The Way You Are does eventually plunge into the depths of mushiness. Again, melodically strong with a undeniably touching sentiment, but the execution is just too sickly for these ears. Saxophones? Good god, no. Elsewhere, The Stranger never reaches the same heights, hit singles notwithstanding. Scenes From An Italian Restaurant is just a bit pretentious, isn't it? As is that bloody whistled The Stranger theme (and not too far removed from the soundtrack to that Turkish Delight advert from the 80s). The car noises on Movin' Out really confused my dog while I was listening, which provided a rare moment of genuine entertainment for me. Joel's music tentatively dips its toes in various popular genres, but never dares to get soaking wet in any of them. And therein lies the key, great singer-songwriter though he may be on paper, Billy Joel's music works best when he finds a suitable hook to hang it on. Much of The Stranger just seems lacking in style. At heart he's an old school rock 'n' roller operating at the nexus point where music fractured and split off in a thousand different directions. Vienna works so well because it wears its Kurt Weil parody on its sleeve and fully commits to the pastiche. It's no surprise Joel would come out the other side of the 1970s and enjoy his greatest success by completely embracing his roots and paying homage to his own favourite music of the past. I can't give it any more than two stars, and even then Vienna and Just The Way You Are are doing all the heavy lifting.

12/1001 Nope. Sorry. Nick Cave just irritates me. His vocal delivery irritates me. Widely regarded as a great lyricist he may be, but all I hear here is a load of cliches about whisky, preachers, storms, angels and "heading on down the road". Which also irritates me. I get that Cave is a bit of a character, and I can't deny he is a creative guy who has kept himself busy over the years. Kudos to him for that. But this is all just a bit too pretentious for me. Dark and brooding, the musical arrangements are vaguely interesting, but they'd have to be something really special to make me warm to 40-plus minutes of harping on about how hard life was for an imaginary protagonist in an imaginary wild west.

Ah well, there you go - less than 24 hours after Brian Wilson's death was announced and this pops up for me. In the mixed-up Beach Boys UK release chronology, this album directly preceded Pet Sounds, with Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) not hitting British shelves until after that release. Not that it matters too much - only California Girls and Let Him Run Wild from the latter might have clued listeners in to what was coming next. As it stands, Today! is a collection of smart rock 'n' roll surf-pop which sees Wilson still seemingly trying to emulate his hero Phil Spector for much of the first half of this record. The complex vocal arrangements and effortless key changes are, as can be said of much of The Beach Boys' pre-Pet Sounds output, wasted on such lightweight material for the most part, effective though it is. The second half - the original LP's flip side - is where the album really shines for me. Please Let Me Wonder is the album's stand-out track, and from thereon in, Today! is more mature and laid back, working as a suite of moody pieces of music rather than memorable individual tracks. While the songwriting doesn't quite match the ambition at this stage, Wilson's studio genius is still evident, as it is in the formulaic but fun tracks on the first side, albeit slightly less so. Despite all this, The Beach Boys Today! sounds incredibly clean-cut and immature in the context of everything else that was happening in 1965. A gentle step up in production values by their own standards rather than a giant leap, by the time of it's release, many of their peers were making much bolder and exciting statements with albums.

Super Furry Animals were so taken by a particular expletive-loaded line from Steely Dan's track Show Biz Kids, they crafted their own (quite brilliant) song around a sample of said obscenity. There, folks, begins and ends my extensive knowledge of Steely Dan. Oh, and they took their name from a steam-powered dildo described in William S Burroughs' Naked Lunch... but everyone knows that. Being a Furries fan, I did feel obliged to pick up a copy of to Countdown To Ecstasy - the album containing Show Biz Kids - as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Countdown To Ecstasy was also ranked fairly high (13) in Mojo magazine's Top 100 Albums Of All Time list from 1995, which would probably have been at the back of my mind when seeking out the LP back in the day and (finally getting to the point) Aja also seems to crop up on similar such lists regularly enough. When I drew this as the first of my 1,001 albums in this venture, my initial thought was "Well, I'm sure there will be worse albums waiting for me among the next 1,000..." While I am still convinced this is true, Aja, I'm afraid, is not the hidden gem I was hoping it might be. I appreciate the crisp production and I also get why champions of this LP are always keen to highlight the "excellent musicianship". It's because its a code for "there are no songs". In fact, I'll go further and suggest that, to this listener at least, is almost completely devoid of any traces of soul or emotion whatsoever. You see, playing instruments proficiently is all very well, but, just like a painter who is very proficient with a brush when it comes to whitewashing brick walls - the expertise required might be an artform but the end product isn't necessarily always art. Countdown To Ecstasy, while exploring similar jazz-prog-rock-pop territory, at least is more rough around the edges - more human, more raw. Aja is slick and soulless by comparison and, the lack of any kind of edge leaves it floundering in easy listening territory. This album's admittedly tight grooves, jazzy progressions and instrumental dexterity never threaten to coalesce into something approaching a catchy song. In turn, the seven tracks here, for all their extended soloing and musical flourishes, fail to offer much in the way of varity in terms of sound or feel, yet neither do they pull together in one direction to offer some wider concept of the long-player as a whole. Don't get me wrong, not every song has to be Love Me Do, but I guess I am ultimately in it for something a bit more immediate and memorable. The only moment my ears truly pricked up was during Peg as I realised this was where De La Soul lifted the vocal refrain and instrumental motif for their Eye Know. Look, if the likes of De La Soul and Super Furry Animals hear something inspiring in Steely Dan, then I'm not sure I'm qualified to argue. However, after several listens though from start to finish, Aja just isn't doing it for me. Sorry.

The first album of my 1,001 was Steely Dan's Aja - the second could barely be more apt. With five tracks more than Steely Dan's effort, released in the same year, Never Mind The Bollocks' runtime is still a good minute shorter and is the complete antithesis everything the former represented at that time. Direct, noisy, obnoxious - there's not very much I could say about the Pistols that has not already been said many times over. Suffice to say, I was born right in the middle of punk, and I've never thought of it as a musical genre, as such - more a wider cultural movement absolutely tied to the UK in the mid-to-late-70s. Yeah, the Ramones and The Stooges did it first in the States, but they were channelling Phil Spector and MC5 respectively. The Pistols were emulating no-one past and present and, rather than pointing out some new exciting direction, they were simply creating a big musical "fuck you" to the establishment. At least that's what the legend says. Did that movement actually achieve anything? Were the Pistols the real deal? Is Johnny Rotten just an irritating contrarian? Almost half a century on, I suppose the only question that really matters is does the music still stand up? And, yeah, it does just about. Make no mistake, punchy and direct though it may be, there is some flabbier content on here - The band fought to keep the singles off the album and, fortunately, they lost. The energy and angst of God Save The Queen, Anarchy In The UK and Pretty Vacant is as fresh as it was in 1977, in other areas the hooks are not as sharp and the lyrics not as cutting or clever as they pretend to be ("sub mission", yeah, we get it). That said, more often than not it hits the mark, and its highs certainly make up for the LP's occasional lows. As a snapshot of England in jubilee year, as a defining moment in rock history, or as the album that simply inspired a thousand other bands - Never Mind The Bollocks is undoubtedly a five-star LP. For me, taken as a collection of songs in 2025, the impact has dulled slightly and it does sag in places. I have to give it four.

This thing is random, right? Three albums so far for me, all of them from 1977. Billy Joel (always pronounced Joh-El by me, as if he's related to Superman) is one of those artists... Let's put it this way, there's a bloke I know - just turned 30, so still young as far as I am concerned - he loves Billy Joel. Loves Elton John too. And Barry Manilow. He's been to see them all live. Loves artists who put on a "show", and if they can play the old Aunt Joanna, even better. "Safe" music, I call it. That said, I've got respect for Billy Joel. He digs The Beatles, and he obviously knows his stuff - in fact, I like to watch him talk about music, his own and other people's, and he generally makes a lot of sense and seems like a good guy (well, there was that time he totally lost his shit in Moscow). A talented guy though. I own all of his studio albums (yeah, even that classical one) and have given each of them ample chance to impress me over the years. Sadly, I always find them all just a bit... meh. Fine greatest hits album, of course, but the LPs themselves are just too inconsistent and, well, bland. But I was willing to give The Stranger another try, it does, after all, contain probably my favourite Joel composition. Even the slightly tongue-in-cheek accordion solo can't detract from the brilliance of Vienna. Melodically irresistible, it weaves its way between sentimentality and uplifting optimism without ever tumbling completely over either side of the precipice. A bit of a guilty pleasure for me, laid back, but the delivery is totally suited to the lyrical themes and the melody is convincing and compelling throughout. Not quite as successful, but still something of a guilty pleasure, Just The Way You Are does eventually plunge into the depths of mushiness. Again, melodically strong with a undeniably touching sentiment, but the execution is just too sickly for these ears. Saxophones? Good god, no. Elsewhere, The Stranger never reaches the same heights, hit singles notwithstanding. Scenes From An Italian Restaurant is just a bit pretentious, isn't it? As is that bloody whistled The Stranger theme (and not too far removed from the soundtrack to that Turkish Delight advert from the 80s). The car noises on Movin' Out really confused my dog while I was listening, which provided a rare moment of genuine entertainment for me. Joel's music tentatively dips its toes in various popular genres, but never dares to get soaking wet in any of them. And therein lies the key, great singer-songwriter though he may be on paper, Billy Joel's music works best when he finds a suitable hook to hang it on. Much of The Stranger just seems lacking in style. At heart he's an old school rock 'n' roller operating at the nexus point where music fractured and split off in a thousand different directions. Vienna works so well because it wears its Kurt Weil parody on its sleeve and fully commits to the pastiche. It's no surprise Joel would come out the other side of the 1970s and enjoy his greatest success by completely embracing his roots and paying homage to his own favourite music of the past. I can't give it any more than two stars, and even then Vienna and Just The Way You Are are doing all the heavy lifting.

Four albums, and all of them from 1977 so far... *scratching chin emoji* I'm not going to have as much time to write about this album as the previous three, suffice to say I am already familiar with it, and it gets a thumbs up. I like Talking Heads. I like the IDEA of Talking Heads, perhaps more than I like some of their albums. You see, to me - post-punk, new wave, alternative - all those tags matter, but what matters more is that Talking Heads are a cracking little singles band, however you choose to pigeon-hole them. At their best they have catchy hooks, great melodies, and interesting rhythms. They are also eccentric, witty, experimental, and thought-provoking and everything a great pop band should be. Amazing greatest hits collection, and I'm totally onboard with Stop Making Sense being the greatest concert movie ever made. But their studio albums? Hmmm, bit hit and miss to be brutally honest. Always interesting, not always entertaining. Sometimes the melodies get neglected at the expense of rhythmic exploration. Sometimes the hooks take a backseat to the eccentricity and experimentation. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it makes Talking Heads' long players less accessible than some might have you believe. 77 is fine, although Psycho Killer is (predictably) the high point. Uh-oh, Love Comes To Town is up there too, but everything else is brilliant only in fits and starts. Definitely not for everyone's taste, and in some ways I feel a bit harsh giving this a three - I do so only because I know there are better albums and there are only two positions above this, I'm reserving my fives for albums I consider nigh-on perfect. (At least that's the theory)

Album number five. Aiming to streamline my reviews rather than rambling on as I have done thus far. Reggae is something of a music of contradictions for me - musically tight but with an irresistibly loose, laidback feel, and while politically, spiritually and socially preoccupied lyrically, the songs are often uplifting and danceable by contrast. Bob Marley, whether you rate him or not as a musical force, can, if nothing else, be recognised as a true figurehead for reggae and Jamaican culture, bringing them to a worldwide audience. Here, the music perhaps falls a little flat by lacking the contribution from his original Wailers, but is still as groovy and politically charged as you would expect. Admittedly not an album I would choose to listen to from start to finish often (I have listened to all Marley's albums sporadically in the past), Natty Dread comes into it's own as the soundtrack to any summer evening spent having fun in the sun. That's not to relegate Marley to mere background music, but he has produced better, more melodically interesting long-players than this - reggae fatigue sets in for this listener four or so tracks in. Only a two from me, but it's a high two.

Album six. Time to ruffle a few feathers... I've never understood the widespread reverence for this boring, self-indulgent, self-important wank. The emperor is well and truly stark-bollock naked here. A real chore to listen to, despite some deservedly famous drum production and great guitar sounds. Plant's voice never fails to grate as he wails his way through the least melodically and rhythmically interesting route between two points time after time. One star, awarded purely for the groove Page, Bonham and Jones create amid the pretentious pentatonic rock-blues wankery.

Album seven for me... Hip-Hop's Never Mind The Bollocks. Time, perhaps, has not been kind to the themes or the delivery, but the energy and rock solid beats are every bit as fresh as they seemed in 1988. Unlike the Pistols, there can be no doubting these guys were the real deal. While it is hard to fully appreciate the pros and cons of NWA's manifesto from the UK, it is clear the controversy routinely overshadows their contribution as a musical force. Listening almost four decades on, there is more subtlety and deftness of touch with a choice sample than you may have noticed before. Or maybe you did - look, hip-hop is not necessarily my specialist subject, certainly not in its gangster form at least, but this was enjoyable to revisit for me. Not perfect, but worth the hype. Four stars for a ground-breaking album.

Eight of 1001... Although on paper they look appealing to me, I've never quite warmed to The Pixies the way I always imagined I should. While I can appreciate what the fuss must have been all about in 1988, I personally came to these albums after hearing what Nirvana had already crafted with the same building materials, so the novelty was always a bit lost on me. Everything beyond the obvious choices - Where Is My Mind? and Gigantic - is just too intentionally inaccessible, too chaotic and just too lacking in hooks to stand up to repeated listening. I doff my cap to Surfer Rosa, but it's never been an album I want to return to time after time. Indeed, The Pixies did better than their debut - in fact I even prefer Frank Black's solo output to this. Huge respect but a low score, I'm afraid.

Nine of 1001... I do own Ritual De Lo Habitual via exposure to Been Caught Stealing back in the day, but know absolutely nothing of its predecessors, so am going in completely cold with this one. To these ears, this album is at its best in its more psychedelic, echo drenched moments. The shoegazing, however, is punctuated with more hair-metal flavoured guitar gymnastics and dated alt-funk-rock to much lesser effect. Farrell's destinct modulated vocal style eventually grates due to over-exposure. Nothing's Shocking certainly has its moments, but there is no individual standout track, nor is there anything of great substance to make me want to come back for more. Mostly loud and in-your-face, not necessarily not in a good way. Energetic but exhausting. Intriguing but shallow.

10/1001 There can be no denying, Hendrix had a unique gift that almost transcended music itself - an innate ability to make any sound he imagined come out of his fingertips at will. As a guitar great, Jimi is worth every gushingly enthusiastic word that has ever been written about him, of that I am sure. But are his songs any good? Well, yeah, they are but to be honest I could do a top *insert variable* albums list and easily neglect to include any Hendrix long players. Which is a shame, because I did enjoy listening to Are You Experienced? for the first time in a while. He may not be the best singer, and, despite the guitar gymnastics, a lot of this stuff is just based around some fundamental blues-rock building blocks. But, whereas Led Zep left me a bit cold, here everything is delivered with a lot of genuine soul and its all tastefully done. Some nice psychedelic sounds and very little filler - lesser-known songs such as Love Or Confusion and I Don't Live Today hold their own among the likes of (depending on which version of the album you are listening to) Purple Haze, The Wind Cries Mary and the title track. Really this should be a solid three from me, but I'm giving it a generous four - while it's not an album I personally return to often, as his debut I am mindful of the fact this must have been a pretty mindblowing sound to anyone listening in May 1967.

11/1001 I was looking forward to this, as Beth Orton was an artist that mostly passed me by in the 90s - I remember its predecessor, Trailer Park, being a half-decent album at the time. Sadly, this collection doesn't do anything for me. Well-worn chord progressions with less ambitious arrangements than Beth's previous effort, it runs out of steam by the second track and never really picks up momentum again, save for the trip-hop treatment of Stars All Seem To Weep just after the halfway point, by which time it is too late to lift the mid-paced, wistful mood. A mood which, of course, may have been precisely the one Beth Orton was aiming for, but it was not one which I felt I could really engage with. Beth's lyrics are poetic and mature, but there is nothing memorably melodic to hang them on, and I soon found myself zoning out. I'm sure this album has an audience, although I am equally sure I'm not it.

12/1001 Nope. Sorry. Nick Cave just irritates me. His vocal delivery irritates me. Widely regarded as a great lyricist he may be, but all I hear here is a load of cliches about whisky, preachers, storms, angels and "heading on down the road". Which also irritates me. I get that Cave is a bit of a character, and I can't deny he is a creative guy who has kept himself busy over the years. Kudos to him for that. But this is all just a bit too pretentious for me. Dark and brooding, the musical arrangements are vaguely interesting, but they'd have to be something really special to make me warm to 40-plus minutes of harping on about how hard life was for an imaginary protagonist in an imaginary wild west.

13/1001 Prior to this, I only knew the basics about Wyatt - Soft Machine / wheelchair / covered Shipbuilding - and after looking at some of the ratings on here, I was already queueing up "hilarious" capsule reviews in my head for Shleep ("utter shlit", "preferred Shlipbuilding" etc). So I was pleasantly surprised when I hit play on this one. Opener Heaps Of Sheeps is simplistic but effective slice of psychedelic pop. Right up my alley to be honest. Sadly, it's all downhill from there - but at least it's a helter-skelter of brass and string section noodling, avant-garde noisescapes, nursery rhyme vocals and general eccentricity, rather than a straight drop off a cliff-face. And if that all sounds bad, and more importantly, like the very properties I have already criticised in other offerings - well, yeah, you'd be right, but here the self-indulgence is deployed with a certain charm you can't help but warm to it just a little. Shleep, at the very least, takes you on a journey, albeit one meandering between pretentious experimentation and Barrett-esque whimsy, a project which eventually collapses under its own self-indulgence. There are some interesting musical moments along the way, it's just that very few of these moments arrange themselves into anything resembling a "song" in the traditional sense. Just enough peaks among the, admittedly tedious, troughs to keep you interested. There are occasional hints of trip-hop (Wyatt is from Bristol after all) and, released in the midst of Britpop, there is a strange whiff of the era permeating this album (think Far Out by Blur rather than Wonderwall). Almost every track outstays its welcome and the experiment is, ultimately, a failed one, but there is a strange warmth to this album I can't quite put my finger on. It means no harm. Suffice to say, only 13 albums in, this is far from the worst offering I have heard. If nothing else, Heaps Of Sheeps will definitely be a track heading straight for one of my psych/pop playlists for future listening. Plenty here to dislike, but somehow I found it impossible to flat out hate Shleep.

Truly awful.

15/1001 Ah, no hesitation making this my first five-star selection. If I had any complaint, it might be that the title track is a bit too sentimental and overblown - I rarely listen to it to be honest - and the final track is nothing special... but everything in between is pretty much perfect. One of my favourite albums, one of my favourite acts. Beautiful melodies, beautiful harmonies, beautiful arrangements, and some of Paul Simon's most touching lyrics. Absolutely magical.

16/1001 Ok, here's my take on Coldplay. Chris Martin can write songs. He can play piano, he can strum a guitar, he can come up with melodies and lyrics and all of that stuff songwriters do. And, you know, he's got personality. A pleasant, likeable guy - very marketable. He is accompanied by three other musicians about whom I know nothing. One of them wears a hat, and that is the closest any of them get to having a personality. Now don't get me wrong, none of that is necessarily a problem. The problem is that I don't know where Coldplay ends and the product begins. I can't tell by listening to their music how much of it is Chris Martin pouring out his soul and how much of it is the result of a decision taken in an office somewhere. "That 3-3-2 beat makes tracks sound urgent, let's use that here". "Yellow was a hit - lets use that loud/quiet, plodding straight time approach again here". It sounds like a solo artist with loads of other tried-and-tested arrangement and production tricks bolted on after the fact. I don't feel anything listening to this music, it seems unauthentic and sterile. For all the gloss and sheen, and for all Chris Martin's ability - and he does have an ear for a melody, I can't deny that - there is very little range or depth to Coldplay. The tension seems forced and fake. And I know whatever they did on the path to becoming U2 V2.0 has worked out for them, which is great, and maybe I'm just in the minority. I personally just don't like the music (and 20-plus years on you still hear this music on a regular basis, let's face it) - it's all surface and no depth. Not awful, just meaningless and formulaic.

17/1001 While some would have it The Smiths' debut is the bee's knees, I think this is a more mature, more refined effort. It may not be as radio-friendly as its predecessor, but every track here sees Marr in particular expanding his arsenal. Ok, it's been said numerous times, but the title track is an absolute dirge (does a traumatic subject necessarily require a traumatic experience for the listener?) so let's get that out of the way. The remaining eight tracks, however, are all top drawer with only Rusholme Ruffians perhaps becoming a tad tiresome on repeated listens. That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore may be the band's most subtly brilliant recording up to this point, while the jigsaw puzzle of open-tuning shimmer that is The Headmaster Ritual and the straight funk of Barbarism Begins At Home represent a conscious effort to avoid being pigeonholed. Would be a five, if not for the title track, but still a truly great album.

18/1001 I don't know if anyone else gets this, but here's my take on The Libertines' sound: I always felt like they went into the studio, put down a really tight version of a song - then went back in and added loads of off-the-cuff guitar overdubs, swapped lyric sheets, and then overdubbed each other's vocals - Carl singing Pete, Pete singing Carl - without really knowing the lines that well. THEN, and this is the key part, removed the original backing tracks and supporting structure of the song from the mix and left only the freeform stuff. If this sounds like a bit of a dig, it isn't, because when it works (and I don't know what their actual process was, of course) it sounds like pure genius. However, when it doesn't, the songs just sound unfinished and half-arsed. To be completely fair, I think the music press (in the UK, at least) were desperate to find something to fill the void when the Britpop bubble burst, and it never quite happened, despite NME's efforts to dig up the next big thing. Doherty and Barat were probably as deserving and as gifted as anyone from that period, but it never quite convinced me at the time. Doherty in particular conjures up flashes of Ray Davies brilliance in his melodies and imagery, but was equally prone to slipping into "Knees Up Mother Brown" mode. This album is every bit as urgent and exciting a listen as Up The Bracket, but there is a lot more style over substance at play here. It is an album of moments rather than great songs. Some people may lap up the "shoop shoop, shoop de-lang-a-lang" moments but it all just seems over-contrived. Thrilling in places, but veers towards the unfinished and half-arsed rather than the genius, I'm afraid.

19/1001 Well, if nothing else, I prefer this to Led Zeppelin - it just seems a bit more original to me, if nothing else. Changes stands out like a sore thumb as a piano-led ballad, but kudos to them for attempting to branch out. Acoustic instrumental, Laguna Sunrise also offers a change of pace. Elsewhere though, Ozzy bellows like a demented thing, while Iommi, Butler and Ward create a low, slow metal groove. It's kind of hypnotic, but then they were off their faces most of the time. Sabbath are almost entering into self-parody at this stage in their careers, every riff sounding like an interpolation of something they had already done to better effect on the previous three albums. I can't say I hate it - I gave it a couple of listens, and I'd probably already heard a couple of tracks before, while it is not an album I already owned - but it just kind of drifted by me to be honest.

20/1001 Hard to imagine, but long before Spotify, before Napster, before Myspace and before Steve Wright In The Afternoon, music was still evolving, unaided, at a fair old pace. When The Velvet Underground & Nico was being recorded in throughout 1966 it was undoubtedly ground-breaking stuff, but does it really warrant the praise that has been heaped upon it over the years? The thing is, by the time the album was released, almost a year after the sessions began, EVERYONE who owned a guitar and a pair of sunglasses (and probably lots of people who didn't own either) had formed a band and recorded an album. Don't believe all the hype, there were other bands doing what The Velvet Underground were doing by March 1967. The important thing though, and how I'm approaching all of these albums, is that Velvet Underground & Nico do it well, and with style. Forget the legend, this is still a smart collection of songs which benefits from the contrast between Nico's wistful, torch song vocals and Lou Reed's trademark snarky drawl. Light and dark. Sunday Morning, Femme Fatale and All Tomorrow's Parties have an undercurrent of something sinister lurking just below a light and catchy surface. Elsewhere the deviance and drugs are right out in the open in I'm Waiting For My Man, Venus In Furs and Heroin. Sadly, the cacophony of noise which makes Venus so compelling early on becomes irritating as the album plays out, the final two tracks spiralling away from the canny melodies and irritable rhythms that held the interest in the album's earlier art-school experiments, resulting in - well - just unbearable noise by the final minutes. Is this album alone responsible for the birth of alternative music? Probably not, but it is still worthy of this list and demands a listen whatever your musical tastes. Side one of the original LP is pretty much perfect, while Heroin sets the more uncomfortable tone for the flip side before two more chart-friendly offerings hold off the eventual implosion at the denouement.

21/1001 In the town where I was born, grew up and still call home to this day, Tuesday evenings are frequently, although less so in recent years, accompanied by bell ringing rehearsals at the parish church, the unmistakable sound of which can be heard pretty much right across town. It is my understanding - and I may be completely wrong about this - that the seemingly random noises they produce during these sessions is the result of something called "change ringing", wherein they ring the peal of six bells in a system determined more by mathematical sequences than by any consideration for musicality and melody. I could not possibly begin to comment on how skilled our local campanologists were, nor how accurately and satisfactorily they were executing the changes, because, regardless of any notion of skill or proficiency in execution, the resulting sound was still an ABSOLUTELY F**KING MEANINGLESS DIRGE to my ears. And this, I regret to inform you, is also all true of Miles Davis, jazz music in general and this album. Miles Davis may be the best jazz musician to have ever graced this planet - I simply could not tell you from listening to these tracks, pieces of music which exist to move me not one iota. If playing every note there is, in every possible articulation and every imaginable sequence is the goal, then he surely wins the prize. Congratulations, Miles.

Bland and devoid of emotion from start to finish, presented with a smug tongue-in-cheek delivery which irritates on every level - like a load of old woodwork teachers with 808s and Korgs trying to prove they can get down with the kids, but (wait for it) maybe they are also mocking the kids a bit too. How very clever. I cannot imagine why this album would ever warrant being on this list, yet here it is...

Two fabulous singles and a lot of filler which never really cut it with me, I'm afraid. Morrissey had a great run of singles (and B-sides) following the demise of The Smiths, but didn't hit the ground running with his long players. Bona Drag gives a far better account of his early years as a solo artist than either of his first two studio albums, in my opinion. I'm sure this is not the last I will see of Stephen Patrick Morrissey on this list, but it will probably be the least.

24/1001 I don't know many people who claim to like Elvis Costello - well, I don't know any at all to be more accurate. I like him. Quite a lot, actually, but here's the thing, I'm not sure how I'd go about recommending him to a friend, but if I did it would not be with this album. So, presuming he will appear on this list again, giving me more chance to enthuse about the one-time Mr Declan MacManus in a better context, all I need to say is that this debut - while loved by critics - is pretty underwhelming. While Costello's trademark vocal venom is present from the off, the wit and musical nous is not yet fully formed. Session band Clover pull it off on opener Welcome To The Working Week, and the guitar ornamentation throughout Alison is tasteful within the context of a single I have always had a soft spot for. (The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes is passable, but beyond that My Aim Is True reveals only brief flashes of Costello's genius. The problem is everything is played dead straight - this is mostly rock 'n' roll, MOR AOR trying to cosplay as new wave and rarely in a convincing way. Later editions benefit vastly from the addition of Watching The Detectives.

25/1001 As a songwriter/musician myself, I know my way around enough instruments, and have a grasp of production to just about get by to compose and record stuff I am reasonably proud of on a kind of hobbyist level. If you could grant me more ability in any of those areas I might take it, but I could get by without it. If, however, you could magically grant me the ability to hear other people's music and pick out individual components and fit them together with pieces of other tracks to create something entirely new, I would bite your hand off. Hip-hop is a true artform, and being able to hear existing musical phrases in a new melodic context, in my opinion, is a lot more difficult than one might imagine. At least in terms of getting it right and making it sound... cool. So while, as with NWA, I may not really get some of the cultural references, nore always agree with the themes, I can at least dig the Shogun Assassin steals. Liquid Swords is lyrically dense, and subtly detailed in it's musical reference points. It is laid back, but full of a swagger that is hard to resist. That said, I'd be lying if I said a full album (and not a particularly short one) of straight rap doesn't get hard going for me and this is very one-note in it's delivery and not as varied tempo-wise as other Wu-related projects. But these are minor points which are more to do with my personal preferences - I'm still more than happy to give this four stars - I can completely appreciate why this is up there as a true classic within its genre.

26/1001 You know when you are at an open mic night, and someone is up there on the stool strumming away and whining on, boring the shit out of everyone, and it just goes on and on and you are thinking "for god's sake, someone get him off there"? Well, the worst parts of this album felt like that for me. I have no doubt there is probably a Leonard Cohen song out there that I will fall in love with, but I am not actively seeking it, and it is, sadly, not found on this album. I can't appreciate an LP for lyrical content alone. Respect to anyone who can and gets something out of this, but, sorry - I just can't do it. Not all songs are poetry with an acoustic guitar; not all poetry with an acoustic guitar is a song. Songs Of Love And Hate is just too dull, too frequently. On second listen, I warmed a little to the sparingly used orchestration which added at least a little movie score-style tension to proceedings, albeit briefly. Beyond that, only the relatively jaunty Diamonds In The Mine gets a "full band" treatment and adds anything approaching variety. Sorry, Leonard, maybe next time...

27/1001 Being in my prime (ha!) in the late 90s, I am aware of the name David Holmes but only vaguely know what he is all about - DJ, producer, film scores, remixer etc from the more alternative end of the dance spectrum - and have not listened to this album until now. Entirely instrumental, the music here is very much of its time, referencing a fairly eclectic spectrum of late-90s electronica but with a less chart-friendly vibe than your Fatboy Slims and Basement Jaxxes. Not necessarily my bag, this is inoffensive background music lacking any massive hooks (or any vocals to speak of at all) that manages to be interesting and a bit dull at the same time. If I were a DJ, I can imagine slipping some of these tracks into a 90s indie set to add a bit of variety, perhaps. The street chatter which punctuates the album (*checks notes* recorded by Holmes on a trip to New York 10 years earlier) doesn't really add much in my opinion, although some tracks do incorporate the recordings more creatively. It's all right, and does what it says on the tin, but I'm not sure it warrants being on this list and I'm not sure I'd return to it for my own listening pleasure too soon.

28/1001 I was at primary school in the early 80s. From my experience, I'd suggest there was a point during that decade where affection for The Beatles was probably at it's lowest point, when there were few things as uncool as actually liking The Beatles' music. "What, that old 60s shit?" Despite this, without it ever being on the national curriculum, I reckon I was as familiar with the song Yellow Submarine as I was any popular nursery rhyme or hymn I might have routinely come into contact with as a pre-teen growing up at that time. That was how much The Beatles had permeated culture by this point, this was the impact they had, whether it was cool to like them or not. And that is arguably the weakest musical moment on Revolver - even Ringo's novelty song was still being sung in playgrounds more than a decade on. Of course, come the mid-90s, certain events in the UK music scene conspired to provide The Beatles with the renaissance they deserved. Look, it's all been said before, hasn't it - all I can really add is that it is all warranted. The fab four and George Martin were creating magic at this point in their careers - every song is crackling with an absolutely irrepressible energy; every song a unique and fully-formed exploration of different themes and sounds. Almost 60 years since its release, that energy is still as thrilling as ever. Amazing stuff. I expect it'll be a long, long while before I draw anything to match this in my 1001. (Watch Pet Sounds come out next...)

Repetitive musical motifs adapt and take on new meanings as the improvisation and rhythms around them constantly evolve and alter the musical context, like shifting river of mercury weaving it's way down a gentle incline. It's intriguing stuff and the performances are sublime. It's also - to this listener - dull as dishwater. More interesting than the only Miles Davis entry I have encountered thus far, but every bit as inaccessible to my tastes in music, I'm afraid.

30/1001 I'm just about old enough to remember Nick Heyward being touted as the next big thing, a musical genius who was going to conquer the world. He did go on to enjoy brief solo success after Pelican West, but Haircut 100 faltered without him, managing just one further poorly-received long player, and it's fair to say neither really equalled the relative success of this debut album. Choppy, funky clean guitars, exotic percussion, way too much saxophone, cringe-worthy Brit-rap and a preoccupation with cliched early-80s themes are order of the day here - it was a strange time when skiing holidays, larking about on yachts and rolling around in autumn leaves wearing chunky, cable knit Aran sweaters seemed to be all anyone aspired to. Not as cutting as The Style Council, not as cool as Orange Juice, and not as unashamedly poppy as Wham!, Haircut's music seems to trickle into the cracks left by their contemporaries rather than claim it's own unique territory. It's all very lightweight stuff, the vocals tend to drift by rather than grab your attention, and the arrangements soon get repetitive. There's a surprising amount of subtle instrumentation on offer here, but variety of playing does not seem to translate to variety of end product, and sadly all you take away from the experience is the jazz-funk stabbing and and overload of brass. Which is a shame, because everyone else was doing that sound in 1982. That said, in Favourite Shirts, Love Plus One and Fantastic Day this album boasts three buoyant, if vaguely similar, hit singles which are very much of-their-time slices of enthusiastic pop fluff. I can't deny I've got a certain nostalgia-fuelled fondness for them - Nobody's Fool, included on later reissues, is a decent pop seven-inch too. The album tracks never threaten to match that same level of quality, but do improve a little on repeated listens, to be fair. I really shouldn't, but I'm going to give it two stars.

31/1001 Whenever someone has to TELL you they are funny, whacky, zany or interesting, you can almost guarantee they are not. This has been my enduring take on Cyndi Lauper. That said, I can't deny Girls Just Wanna Have Fun has also endured, and deservedly so - it's an attention-grabbing, catchy, bratty pop single which sounds remarkably fresh and energetic to this day. Time After Time is a fair enough ballad - not my cup of tea though - and she did that song for The Goonies as well. Oh and True Colours, I know that one, of course. But we are getting ahead of ourselves there... really, listening to this album for the first time was just a matter of how long before her vocals began to grate. And to be completely honest, I was surprised to find Lauper's voice was the one thing that kept me interested through the middle-of-the-road offerings here, if anything she adds a bit of authenticity, and alternative edge, to standard 80s pop/rock fare. As side two plays out, of course, it everything begins to grate, but, credit where credit is due, she has gone up in my estimation a little. I always had her down as a poor man's Madonna, all crazy hair dos and raiding the dressing up box, but no real substance. Which is unfair. As the big singles from She's So Unusual suggest, with decent material, Lauper was worth the attention she demanded. Not my bag, little stands out besides the singles particularly in the second half, but respect to Cyndi, it's not necessarily her fault. Still only one star, but not as awful as Bruce Springsteen at least.

32/1001 Highly-regarded artist and a highly-regarded album, but this is a first-time listen for me (I'm familiar with the title track, obviously), and even after a couple of run-throughs it doesn't really do much for me. Not that there's anything bad here, per se, it's just not my kind of soul music - too much mid to slow tempo material. The production is solid but pretty uninspiring, and, for my money, the first two tracks are the strongest here, from a melodic point of view - from thereon in it becomes a bit formulaic. And there's not really much more I can say; I expected something to match Motown's finest records of the era, but this falls fairly flat in comparison. Not as special a collection of songs as some would have you believe, in my opinion.

34/1001 I've never really got into The Stranglers in a big way, not exactly sure what it is about them. Listening to this album again for the first time in a long while hasn't really revised my opinion. Great singles band, mind, and they certainly improved into the 1980s, but their debut just feels like a real slog to listen to for me. Peaches aside, everything sounds vary samey and melodically uninspired - all bass-driven and energetic, but somehow lacking the raw edge of punk, and the sophistication of pop. The addition of an organ certainly goes some way to setting them apart from their peers, but the songwriting here rarely makes the most of this novelty. Bands like Magazine, for example, made far more interesting records using similar building blocks. It's ok, not the worst album in the world I suppose, but, nah, there's nothing anywhere near on par with Golden Brown here.

35/1001 Don't be fooled - it may seem like the musicians are all playing different songs at the same time, and it may seem like the good Captain has taken too much LSD and is simply growling his addled thoughts into a Dictaphone at random - but the resulting sound is actually far, far worse than that. Look, I'm a fan of psychedelia, particularly late-60s psychedelia - that is my thing, as it were. But this is just dumb, childish noise. And maybe I'm just wrong, given this seems to crop up on best-of lists time after time, but in this case I'm quite happy to remain wrong.

Genuinely gave it a chance, but this is not for me on any level, sorry. I'm sure she means every word, but musically it didn't take me anywhere interesting.

36/1001 As someone who spent my first couple of years as a guitar player locked in my room trying to learn widdly-widdly solos, mistakenly thinking the end goal was to become some kind of Steve Vai guitar hero, I have listened to a lot of metal albums. This is not one of them - and I wasn't missing anything. It's puerile, repetitive, and musically really rather dull.

37/1001 Slickly produced, pleasant to listen to, and nothing really I can fault about it in those respects. Ultimately, though, this is not an album I would ever choose to listen to - which, I suppose, is the whole point of this exercise, but in this case, Immigrés does not expand on my understanding of what an album is and can be conceptually. It is just a recording of some music from a different culture.

38/1001 Bolan's confidence in what he was doing, when combined with his ear for a decent, but simple, pop singalong shines through during the best moments of Electric Warrior. Elsewhere, a dreary reliance on 12-bar riffery exposes the limitations of the format and its inspiration. There is some subtlety - the trademark 70s drum slap-backs still sound fresh on the album's best arrangements - but it also does sag in places through lack of variety. Far from perfect, but there are enough straight-up solid tunes here to lift this above the average. I'm not a massive fan, but I can see why Bolan was such a big name before his untimely death. Cosmic Dancer is great, the singles are fine, and the quality is spread more thinly among the remaining tracks, but it is rarely awful.

A totally unrewarding experience - musically malnourished, and lyrically a bit juvenile.

40/1001 I don't know who I've pissed off, but getting Suicide, then this back to back? Look, I'm genuinely going into this with an open mind, and am hoping to find hidden gems among genres and artists I might not usually consider listening to. I know people who enjoy sound collages, and experimental stuff of that ilk, and I can even see how that kind of thing is probably a lot of fun to produce. But this is beyond niche for me - it is bordering on anti-music (and I also get that there is not necessarily anything implicit in "1001 albums" which says they have to be albums of music). There is, I must confess, craft to what Liars are doing here, but that does not change the fact that the end result is an absolute chore to listen to. ZX Spectrum loading noises? I love them, but not in a song. Why?

41/1001 Made so popular by its inclusion on The Exorcist soundtrack, there is now a copy of the LP in every single charity shop in the UK. Anyone who has bought it since then on any other format is probably a woodwork teacher. As with so many other albums on this list, I can maybe see why it was seen as ground-breaking at the time, and I can see why people might like it... but it has not aged well and it says nothing to me about my life. Inoffensive, pompous, prog wankery. Two tracks and nearly 50 minutes later, I'm not sure I understand anything more about "bells that are tubular" than I did before I started.

I understand some of the criticism I've seen on here - there is a tad too much r'n'b filler material on Beggar's Banquet. However Sympathy For The Devil, Street Fighting Man, and Salt Of The Earth are all top tier Stones. No Expectations may not push the envelope in the same way, but is still a fine tue. The highs outweigh the ws, this is a great Stones record in my book.

43/1001 Forty-plus albums in, and so far I have not been blown away by albums I have never heard of or encountered at all before. This is nowhere near as awful as some other long-players I've had to endure. Run-of-the-mill electronic indie, at its best coming off like Beck-lite, at its worst like the soundtrack to a 90s commercial which produces a one-hit wonder band you've now forgotten the name of. The vocals don't really work for me, annoying semi-rap, all fake attitude and evocative of something else already done far better by someone else. Dear Science tries to be many things, but excels at none of them, and just isn't very cool or authentic sounding. Compared to others I have encountered on this list thus far, at least there is some semblance of melodic content and interesting moments of musicality. Still only one star, and I doubt I'll listen to it ever again by choice, but by no means the bottom of the barrel.

44/1001 Right out of my era this, but I never really got into the dance scene in a big way, so I am only familiar with Progen / Move Any Mountain. Cheesy new-age psych-hippy lyrical themes aside, it's not too bad to be fair - I can see how all those acidic squelches and layered sounds could sound amazing with the right, ahem, substances on board. I've seen some reviews suggesting it sounds dated, but I was quite surprised how well it held up to be honest, there's a lot more subtle production and melodic sense than you might give them credit for. And - listening to the 1991 reissue - everything is pared down to a palatable pop-single length at least. As I said earlier, dance is not really my thing, but I am interested in the sounds and the technology - I'd love to MAKE this sort of music, much more than I'd like to listen to it. I'm pretty sure I enjoy this version of the Shamen to the more chart-friendly Mr C's silly raps-to-the-fore version which followed though - I've no reservations giving it two stars.

45/1001 Much like Billy Joel, Elton John is an artist where I own his albums, understand his popularity, but only like a selection of tracks. Enough to make a decent greatest hits, but not enough to enjoy most of his albums from start to finish. This is definitely one of his best long players, maybe just behind Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, but listening to it again, I think I've worked out why Elton never really clicked for me. It's the "I just do the music, he does the lyrics" thing. He could be singing a shopping list, the end result would ultimately be the same - there's a subtle disconnect between the artist and the song that I pick up on, that makes it all seem a bit sterile and false. He's great at what he does - and who can't warm just a little bit to the likes of Tiny Dancer? - but there is always just that special something missing for me. It becomes very samey the further you delve - the arrangements lose their impact when you imagine they are all just "things bolted on to a guy sat singing at a piano" to make it more interesting rather than some grand vision which was seen through from conception to production (disclaimer: I may be wrong, but that is how it always feels to me). Decent, but ultimately a bit bland for my taste - I'm feeling generous because the sun is shining so I'll give it a three.

46/1001 Country music. Even when they are not singing about going on down the freeway, sitting on porches, alcoholism and comparing an attractive girl to a flower, it sounds like they are anyway. Lauded way beyond its worth, this is a deeply dull album, I simply cannot see the attraction. Always seems to crop up on best-of lists and frequently gets billed as "alt-country". Maybe it just doesn't translate to the UK that well, but I fail to see anything alternative about this, save for the fact his lifestyle led to his early demise on a lethal drug and alcohol bender. Yeah, he was in The Byrds - right about the time their albums frequently became a pile of unadulterated cack. Even the cover looks like a badly done funeral order of service. Yuck. Next.

47/1001 The worst time to give me this was straight after effing Gram Parsons - it's a bit more inventive and original, granted, but Harvest still has a big fat country-rock spine running through it. Sadly, for me, this is another artist that just leaves me cold. A poor man's Dylan in my eyes - hell, the first track is just I Shall Be Released played sideways. The lyrics don't do anything for me, if anything they seem pretty heavy-handed and dull. And don't give me that "you just don't get it - he means the opposite of what he is saying" bullshit, there is definitely some misogyny at the core of A Man Needs A Maid. A cut above the trad-country hell of Parsons this may be, but the production and arrangements are still pretty uninspiring to me - and I know there are a wad of popular songs on here - the incongruous orchestration on There's A World was the only highlight for me. In a nutshell, a mid-tempo, country-tinged rock journey through Americana that rarely breaks out of a shuffle, accompanied by a tramp with a whiny voice banging on about lost loves, regrets, drug abuse and generally in desperate need of some cheering up. If that's your bag, this album is for you. Personally, I don't see the appeal.

Deathly dull. Why people love this I cannot even begin to comprehend. Ugly cover too.

Interesting soundscapes, some solid beats... BUT... no decent songs. Not that an album cannot survive on ideas and experiments alone, but Kid A really isn't anywhere near as great as some would have you believe. It's ok, nothing more.

50/1001 The world is definitely a better place for having Björk, of that there can be no doubt. Here, her voice is very upfront and in-your-face and, while that voice is unique and interesting as ever, the music seems to be little more than an afterthought that doesn't really marry up with the vocals in a satisfactory way. Some trippy beats here, some lush orchestration there - but never providing anything more than a simplistic backdrop for Guðmundsdóttir to vent (it's a breakup album, it would appear). It's all a bit self-indulgent and bleak, and is certainly a million miles away from her biggest hits two decades prior. An amazing talent who has definitely forged her own unique path through music (and beyond), I can't help that feel that this path strayed from the brilliance of her 90s output a long time ago. Kudos to her for always pushing the envelope and trying new things, but, while I did enjoy moments of this album, I can't help but hold it up against the likes of Play Dead, Human Behaviour and Army Of Me, and I know which I'd rather be listening to.

51/1001 Vega is probably best known to most Brits through DNA's take on Tom's Diner from 1990, despite her mid-80s singles making a decent impact on the UK charts in their own right. There's not really much to dislike about Suzanne's simple acoustic folk-pop arrangements and poetic lyrics which often focus on very down-to-earth struggles and emotions. If you are into that kind of thing, then you can't go far wrong - this is not really my bag, but I can't help but warm to her sound and Marlene On The Wall in particular comes tinged with a heavy dose of 80s chart nostalgia.

52/1001 While I'm still not convinced, this is a far more enjoyable listen than any other Neil Young LPs I've encountered so far. From the proto-glam stomp of Cinnamon Girl to the off-kilter vocal harmonies of Round & Round, this album benefits from being a bit more rough around the edges than the likes of Harvest. It peters out and reveals more of its alt-country roots as it goes on, but the first couple of tracks are resonably interesting. Not a fan of his voice, nor capable of understanding the widespread reverence for Young, but this is not too bad, with some thinly-spun late-60s garage/psych strands running through it. Just scrapes a three.

53/1001 Funny this should come up, because I was trying to remember who did that song Debonair a couple of days ago, and here it is. Forgive me if this sounds a little harsh (Afghan Whigs were, of course, active before the whole grunge thing exploded) but this is the downside of Nirvana's legacy: Bands pounding away at their guitars like they are trying to kill them and singers shouting as loud and as raw as they possibly can because, you know, angst and all that. Cobain had killer melodies, he wasn't JUST SHOUTING. Nirvana had proper pop hooks, and a unique, off-kilter musicality and melodic sense which underpinned everything. Not many people seemed to latch on to that - so many copycats just settled for the cranked overdrive pedal and the shouting and left it at that. This album reeks of 1993, and I might have been more kind to it back then. Not sure the passage of 32 years has done Gentlemen any favours though, and I'm not sure why it has ended up on this list. The sound of 1001 local acts opening your nearest pub music festival.

I have two Fall facts: 1, I know the bloke who did the cover art for this album, and 2, my band did a gig supporting The Fall once, and Mark E Smith came out of the dressing room straight on to the stage with a big wet piss stain down the front of his troons. Rock and roll.

Decades before he waged war on water pollution, and before he reinvented himself as a long-haired, chart-topping, 80s pop prince, Feargal Sharkey was in the punk also rans who penned John Peel's favourite tune, Teenage Kicks, and... that other single. That other single, My Perfect Cousin, is on this album, the remainder of which I have never listened to previously, me being a little bit wary of "punk" albums that didn't come out in the 70s. I was, however, pleasantly surprised by Hypnotised. It's a simple but smart collection full of straight-to-the-point riffs and melodic hooks, with a few subtle production touches along the way - acoustic guitar solo on a punk track? Of course, the thing is, this is not really punk, it is pop with loud guitars, and rather silly, juvenile lyrics - the phrase "boys will be boys" crops up twice before it gets used as a song title in its own right. Despite being lyrically dated and a tad lightweight, in all other departments this is a pretty enjoyable listen.

The novelty had worn off for me by this point to be honest - White Blood Cells was definitely the peak for Jack and Meg in my opinion. There are highlights, and when it grooves it still sounds as good as The White Stripes have ever sounded. In the end though, the self-inflicted manifesto that set them apart from the crowd early in their career only offers diminishing returns here and the attempts to branch out with more varied instrumentation only highlights the limitations of the punk-blues jam format.

I can see why Constant Craving was a hit, but a album full of less interesting variations really does nothing for me, I'm afraid. I gave it a chance, but it's just too middle-of-the-road for me...

Talented singer performing live with talented musicians, which is entirely what makes some people interested in music in the first place. Not me - I'm interested in the aureur, the creator, the entire process of translating an idea from someone's head to a piece of recorded music. Sweet voice, but the vibrato rapidly began to irritate me. Not an album I would listen to again. Huge respect, but, as I said, not what I listen to music for.

Forgive my ignorance, but before even listening, I was surprised to read Dolly had done eight studio albums by 1971 - I didn't realise she was so active during the 60s. I've had KD Lang, Sarah Vaughan and now this on the bounce - girl power! As much as this list would like me to, I just can't warm to country music though - at least not at it's most formulaic, as this, sadly, is. Occasional more rock-orientated elements lift some of the tracks - the funky bass work on Early Morning Breeze steals the spotlight right off Dolly, for instance - but more often than not it's pedal steel, predictable stum-along chords and tales of growing up in poverty, running away with travellers and harping on to your "mama" about what a rotten time you've been having. Ultimately, just not a fan of her voice either. There'd better be no effing Kenny Rogers on this list...

Unpopular opinion, perhaps, but I prefer the jangly pop perfection of Primal Scream's first clutch of singles (and B-sides) to anything they did thereafter. It's clear to see how Screamadelica put them on the map though, and it is a better album than their first two attempts, which frustratingly failed to capture the C86-era magic the related run of 7-inches promised. While they were not unique in ditching a more traditional indie sound to embrace dance culture in the late 80s, nor where they the first to do so, Primal Scream did have an interesting approach that put them ahead of the curve. Rather than putting all their eggs in one basket and "reinventing themselves" wholesale, they essentially let acid house DJ Andrew Weatherall remix their material as part of the production process and put that out as the album proper. The result had the best of both worlds, the organic authenticity of a traditional band set up somehow absorbed into the psyched-out acid beats of the era, while, as a result, Scream themselves were more easily able to adapt as the 90s progressed. It's not quite perfect (some tracks do outstay their welcome just a tad), but it's as good a document of its time as any record could hope to be.

I may be misjudging the 70s record-buying public, but I bet a fair few people were more than a little perplexed if they bought this LP on the strength of mega hit Without You. I'm sure there are plenty, but I'm struggling to think of a more straight-laced, sentimental pop ballad being sourced from a more eccentric collection of songs. Not that this is a bad thing - knocking around with a Beatle obviously rubbed off on Harry, although this album seems more like a post-Beatles McCartney effort than anything by his drinking buddy, Lennon. Much like Paul, Nilsson slips in and out of musical styles as effortlessly as he might change his shirt - never to show off, but still with a slight vaudevillian wink in the direction of those who noticed the pastiche. Of course, like Macca, the songs often come across as little more than doodles - riffing around in a certain genre or style but never quite with the discipline required to come up with completely realised song as the end product. That said, the musical tomfoolery pays off in spades for much of the first half, which is great, the second side kind of runs out of steam despite having Without You and Coconut on there. Fun to listen to, and I can appreciate why it is on this list, it gets a solid three stars from me. It may even be the second best album to use Cooper Black as the cover font...

I have this thing, and I don't know if it's just me, or whether it really is happening, but when I hear drummers doing this kind of beat to this kind of music... how to put it, the emphasis slips in and out, like the drummer always slows down tiny, tiny amounts the longer they go on, but just enough to make the beat kind of fluctuate and accent in a subtly different way - and it pretty much makes it unlistenable for me from the get go. Kudos to Minor Threat though - wow, 1984? There is no doubt this is ahead of its time, in that it sounds like a host of other bands from the late 90s/early 2000s which I almost entirely dislike. Even so, I can see the influence this album might have had. Utter cack though.

The Beatles went on to bigger and better stuff, for sure, but as a snapshot of Lennon and McCartney working together as partnership firing out quality pop tunes for a standard band set up on demand, nothing really beats A Hard Day's Night. Unique in being the only Beatles album to feature original compositions by John and Paul exclusively, while it may be a tad dated lyrically in places, it is melodic and infectious throughout. Short, snappy and to the point from that famous opening chord to the final strains of I'll Be Back, as far as I'm concerned this is joy from start to finish. A slightly superficial joy in light of what was to come, but a joy nonetheless. For my money, the best "early" Beatles album.

If nothing else, Primal Scream never repeat themselves. Part reimagined movie soundtrack, part indie-rock, part hip-hop/electronica experimentation - it's got a bit of everything, you might argue, except for straightforward chart fodder. Except for Star, which is great. If that sounds like a bit of a dig, it really isn't - the more you listen, the more rewarding Vanishing Point gets. It is less accessible than you might expect (it's predominantly instrumental) but still, it's expertly crafted, it just sometimes maybe lacks killer melodies to match the rock solid beats and chunky bass foundations. Much like the cover art, you might take it as a bunch of fairly random but cliched elements thrown together, but, ultimately, I think the end result is pretty cool.

Funky jazz. For the duration of each track, a singular musical idea is flogged until it is lying at the side of the track as buckets of cold water are thrown over it and veterinary staff scramble to erect screens around it. Inoffensive and perfectly pleasant, it just does nothing for me - I'm sure this improvisational noodling is a real treat to those who love the genre. At best, background music with some occasional funky action.

Two recent(ish) songs immediately spring to mind. Houdini by Eminem and I'm Good by Bebe Rexha - there are many more. It's 2000-and-20-something, you can pretty much sample and manipulate existing sounds in ways you could not have dreamt possible 20 years ago. And yet here we are, just lifting an existing piece of music wholesale and not even bothering to change any of the melodic or rhythmic content to "create" and new composition - nope, just alter a couple of the words and were done. Rewind a couple of decades or so, and Norman Cook is laboriously building up a library of samples and musical snippets of interest from obscure sources on FLOPPY FUCKING DISCS which he would eventually use to assemble musical tapestries that at least have the decency to distance themselves from those sources by several degrees of creativity. A bit cheesy and of-its-time this album may be, but this is how - if you are going to take existing work and craft it into something new - it is supposed to be done.

Mostly piano-led singer/songwriter fare with elements of trip-hop and a dash of jazz thrown in. A pleasant listen, well produced with some nice touches, but never really blew my socks off. Standard bluesy vocals throughout probably let it down melodically, which is a shame.

Sounds like Forrest Gump singing over a band that really wants to be playing Lynyrd Skynyrd songs, but have been forced by the record company to try and sound like The Strokes a bit. Not for me, sorry.

Eccentric, eclectic, melodic, and a joy from start to finish. A bona fide psychedelic essential - maybe not for all tastes, but definitely an album everyone should hear at least once. Fabulous.

Call me Judas, but as beguiling as Dylan's songs frequently are, for me his albums are only ever as successful as the band behind him warrants. Fortunately, this is peak "electric" Dylan. Maybe some of the material here outstays its welcome (eleven minutes of Desolation Row?) but the quality more often outweighs the overwhelming quantity in such cases.

Quoth Wiki: "In 2022, the album was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the United States National Recording Registry for being 'culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant'." They must have been on glue - this is cack from start to finish.

A truly strange album. Full of ambition, and bolstered by some genuine chart hits - including a worthy perennial Christmas ballad - but for all the production sheen and immaculate attention to detail (to the point that Trevor Horn all but erased FGTH's own musical contributions in most cases) it really all serves as a distraction from the obvious: Singles aside, this is mostly sloganeering masquerading as meaningful lyrics, interrupted by a bizarre string of cover versions, which are competent but completely incongruous, and punctuated by skits that fail to add anything to proceedings. All with a kind of "we're going to mention 'sex' because it's naughty and it will upset the powers that be" attitude that - granted - was probably what cast them into the spotlight in the first place, but hasn't really aged well in hindsight. It's all just a bit juvenile. It has it's moments, and the singles hold an extra dose of nostalgic charm for anyone who was around at the time, which I was, but as a complete package, Welcome To The Pleasuredome fails to deliver on the musical manifesto those singles set out. Horn's studio wizardry makes the most of some simplistic ideas, but probably at the expense of some personality.

Interesting sounds and really crisp, immersive production, but I found this a real chore to listen to. Too ponderous, pompous and plodding to hold interest for long and what few melodic ideas there are here become repetitive and are buried under the wall of sound. I'll give it two stars for the vision, but this isn't something I'd return to personally.

It's hard for me to review stuff like this. I've mentioned previously, I'm almost exclusively interested in the "auteur" aspect of music; I'm interested in the soup and how someone put it together, rather than the individual elements which went into making that soup. So when someone tells me "this is a really great guitarist / pianist / vocalist - whatever", in a sense you may as well be telling me this was a really fabulous potato that went into my soup. Becasue, for me, there are two insurmountable facts that arise from this: A) The soup can still be awful, in spite of the fabulous potato. And B) I just want to eat the soup, I don't want to admire and respect the potato in and of itself. While I am not at all ignorant to the cultural baggage that goes with this album - I get how influential it must have been, and still could be, and how in turn it shows western influence on South African traditions, and I get that she is an amazing singer - it's just not enough for me to make it a great album I would like to listen to in 2025. And I have to stick to my guns and evaluate it on that basis - when I award this one star, it is not because I do not understand or appreciate the artist, it is just that the end result is so far removed from what I listen to music for in the first place. So, yeah, great voice, great document of its time - but not an album which moves me at all.

First up, no disrespect to Victor Gastelum, but that cover art is horrid. The fonts, the white void, the clearly visible PhotoShop brushwork on that gold background stuff... yuk. Alternative, country, mariachi band, a jazzy 70s movie score, trip-hop, electronica - this album tries to be lots of things at once, and, all credit to Calexico, they seem like they know what they are doing. The problem I have is, I didn't come away feeling like I had gained any insight into WHY they are doing it. For all it's moody minor key musings, processed beats, and brassy Mexicana, it doesn't really do anything all that interesting. Feast Of Wire is confident and competent in it's shifts in style, but not without being strangely predictable both melodically and lyrically, to the point it borders on pointless pastiche (vultures, cacti, snakes? Ok, we get it). So, while it traverses unfamiliar territory within the alternative genre, it never really takes you anywhere unexpected or exciting. Might be more appealing to American audiences, but I won't be listening to this one again in a hurry, I'm afraid.

The opening track sets out the stall: washed out and moody, punctuated with funky, major key moments of relief - the lyrics too are strangely schizophrenic and almost mumbled (Sly "doesn't want to move", while the backing vocals urge us to do exactly that). Legend has it that washed-out sound is due to Stewart inviting girls to sing on the record, only to later scrub what they had contributed and replace them with other girls who had taken him up on his offer to "take part in the session". Hmmm. It is, however, soul with a social conscience, it's as bleak as it is groovy, and a couple of tracks get lost in their own, admittedly funky, rut for just a little too long. The singles, and a handful of the album tracks, are all top notch though. Listening on headphones is a joy, there is so much going on, but it never feels cluttered, with an in-your-face bass sound driving the whole thing throughout, the ensemble of supporting musicians never get in each other's way, nor do they tread on the toes of those layered vocals. It truly is a lesson in arranging and layering music. Overall, maybe not a perfect long-player, but it's pretty close.

I understand some listeners really like this wordy, narrative style - for them it conjures up vivid imagery and evokes all kinds of emotional responses. I guess my brain just isn't wired up that way, I feel like I'm listening to someone reading passages from a novel out loud and the music is little more than an afterthought. Don't get me wrong - I have heard Joni Mitchell tracks that aren't like this, and some of the musical arrangements here was pretty interesting in places, but there were no songs that grabbed me on Court And Spark, despite listening right through a couple of times. Not great.

They've never quite done it for me - shades of Bowie and Sparks, but nowhere near as good. That's not to say that this is an entirely rubbish album, there's plenty of interesting moments, but as a whole package, it's just not as clever or as important as you suspect everyone involved believed it was.

Interesting sounds, but not interesting music.

Well, if nothing else, I preferred this to Led Zeppelin IV. Look, I can't really fault Jimmy Page - maybe he wasn't the first, but he was establishing himself as a widdly-widdly guitar hero before so many of his peers. He's not just good on his instrument, he's innovative and - more here than on Led Zep IV - he creates some truly unique sounds which, in turn, create some unique sounding songs. Then Robert Plant opens his mouth. Sorry, cannot stand his vocals one jot - while the instruments are covering new ground in the rock landscape, he is just following the same blues-rock scales, and in a limited capacity at that (I'm sure there is a song on here where he pretty much sings just one note). Now, maybe that is what grounded them back in the day - maybe Plant's vocals where the familiar "in" that helped people buy the whole proto-metal sound back in the day - but in my opinion, this hasn't aged well. He has to have the last word too, has to cram one more "Oooooh" in after the last chord has been struck - is it an ego thing? Although it's not really my kind of music, but I am happy to give this two stars for the innovation within the field from the band and the tight production, but without melodic vocal lines which match that level of innovation it all falls a bit flat and just becomes a real chore to listen to for me.

Eccentric comedy dance funk rap probably shouldn't be a genre, but it is testament to the supreme talent of Weymouth and Frantz that this album has endured. In hindsight, it's all just a bit silly, but, when it grooves, the music itself still sounds fresh as a daisy in places. A bit of a curiosity, but full of charm.

Fantastic sounding record - just focus your attention on the drums for a short while and you'll see what I mean. The wall of sound guitars can be a little overwhelming, but there is hidden subtlety here, and Ride have always had a keen melodic sense too. That melodic sense, perhaps, is not the focus on Nowhere and I'll be honest, I always prefered the subsequent two albums, which may upset some shoegaze purists. Nevertheless a well-executed long-player based around a singular vision rather than a collection of hook-laden individual tracks. If that kind of thing floats your boat, then this is highly recommended - personally, as much as I do like this album, the sound was probably better suited to the EP format which served Ride so well prior to this.

Tom Waits is an acquired taste. Pray you never acquire it.

Beautiful songs, sung by brilliant voices. Yes - 7 O'Clock News / Silent Night is a bit naff 60 years on, the reworking of The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine for The Graduate soundtrack is probably a more fitting treatment and the studio version of For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her seems slightly anti-climactic for anyone who has heard the amazing live version featured on several S&G collections - but this is still a top-tier album by one of my favourite acts.

I got this album a while ago on the strength of Two Weeks. Sadly, after giving it many chances to grow on me, nothing else on there is of the same quality - actually, that's not the correct word: everything here has the same "qualities", the problem is it feels like a collection of unfinished song ideas, rather than completed songs. A sketch of a chorus here, a little exploration of an instrumental idea there, and none of it really marries up into a finished composition bar the aforementioned single. Every track feels like it is building towards something, is threatening to take you somewhere interesting, but it never gets there. It's a pleasant enough journey, but ultimately it's a pointless and unrewarding one so far as I am concerned.

I believe that is Randy Crawford getting out of the car in the background on the cover. The band are chuckling among themselves because they have already completed most of the recording session without her. "Sorry love, we only need you for one track now - but we've padded it out to 11 minutes, so it won't be a wasted journey for you..." Wow, these guys really were on a crusade - not a single track under five minutes in length here. If nothing else, they've helped me figure out why I hate (with a few notable exceptions) the saxophone so much. The bendy sex whistle is rarely (and, as I said, there are exceptions) a constructive accompaniment for other musical elements - it is usually only ever some twat soloing away like his life depends on it. It's just immediately pretentious by its very nature. Yuk. Late 70s, disco-adjacent jazz, it's slick and groovy but a bit soulless... nothing particularly offensive here, except for the sax overload, but just really just isn't my cup of tea and so is marked accordingly.

I've not been a fan of any of the jazz-orientated albums presented to me so far, long songs have to be something pretty special to hold my interest, saxophone does my tits in, and derivative 12-bar stuff bores me to death. But, you can't beat a bit of Hammond action - at the very least, I can see me sticking this on as a bit of background music. Still only one star, but it's more accessible than some of the other stuff from this genre I've heard so far. Respect to the Incredible Jimmy Smith.

Scritti Politti, it seems to me, are always spoken about with a certain level of respect which I've never quite been able to fathom. As someone who attempts to record and produce their own music and who relies more and more on computers and electronic gadgets to do this, I feel I do have to point out that, at the very least, where I might have once dismissed this as a stereotypical 80s lightweight pop sound, I can now appreciate just how much effort and attention to detail must have gone into making a record sound like this - especially mind-boggling to think they did this with 1985 technology. Does that make it a good album though? Not necessarily. I mean, I was born in the mid-70s - I grew up through this music - so there is a certain nostalgia at play here, so I can't deny Wood Beez and The Word Girl hold a certain charm for me, even if I was not massively aware of them specifically back in the day. But there is nothing else here that makes this a special album, there must be something I'm missing. After digging deeper, to the point I even watched a Scritti Politti documentary trying to gain some insight, it would seem Green Gartside considers this particular glossy pop sound to be something he pioneered, and that a lot of other acts and producers started to copy Scritti Politti after hearing this album. It's a bold position, but it's not really one I can dispute - for better or for worse, this particular high-end production sound has come to sum up the entire era like little else, except maybe hair metal. And it would explain the admiration they seem to receive from peers and critics alike. However, and you can probably tell by now I toiled long and hard with how to score this LP, my research also inspired me to check out their first album, after which it all became much clearer. Their Rough Trade debut was a much better record in almost every department - more organic, more melodic, more interesting... While I can offer kudos to Gartside from getting tired of the indie game and seeking to pioneer are slicker sounding pop confection, and pulling it off, I can't award him extra stars for making what, in hindsight, is a really well-produced and impressively slick collection of bang average songs. I feel I'm being a bit generous with two stars, but I veer more towards the "songwriter/producer vision" aspect of what makes a great record than I do the "great voice/proficient musician/great lyrics" argument, so I can live with that!

Sounds like music made for beer commercials. The highlight for me was thinking track seven was going to be a cover of Dr Hook's When You're In Love With A Beautiful Woman from the opening couple of bars. The low point was realising it wasn't...

I found this more palatable than other selections of this ilk, but it's still just *a singer singing songs* to me. I get why people like this stuff, I'm just into the whole creative process rather than someone having a great voice...

It is impossible to underestimate Prince's ability as a multi-instrumentalist and producer. He also wrote and recorded some amzing songs, not just for himself but for other artists too. So why do I find it so hard to get into any of his albums? This is probably the closest I'll get to liking one of his long players, and the first half really does showcase the best of his many talents - the rest is just a bit "meh", as the cool kids say. Good album, make no mistake, just not as consistently good or as groundbreaking as some might have you believe.

Pleasant enough listen, but nothing earth-shattering. an artist who is lauded beyond his worth because of his untimely death, IMHO - an interesting blend of styles and arrangements but drags like hell, and is at its best during its more upbeat moments. The intro to Buzzin' Fly sounds like the main riff I Am The Resurrection by The Stone Roses.

Suprisingly soulful (didn't realise he wrote Love The One You're With). Probably one of the better American folk albums I've been given from this list so far (all stinkers bar Bridge Over Troubled Waters). The more middle-of-the-road rock elements somehow don't fuse with the soul and gospel influences for me. Not entirely terrible, but there is something insincere and unsubstantial about the whole affair - just really didn't connect with any of it to be honest.

Of all of the US punk bands that appeared in the 90s, early Green Day is probably the one I would choose to listen to if I really had to. Dookie hasn't aged as well as I thought it might have but it still holds a certain poppy charm. Dumb but melodic.

Certainly every bit as ambitious as The Village Green Preservation Society, Arthur is never really mentioned as frequently or as fondly. Which is a shame, because it is certainly cut from the same musical cloth as its celebrated predecessor and there are some top quality tracks on here, particularly the singles. It's as if the relative commercial failure of Village Green, the internal disputes and the US tour ban finally all came to a head and sucked some of the life out of this long player. It contains everything that makes The Kinks great - the jagged proto-metal riffs, alongside Davies' more whimsical, baroque stylings - the problem is, after hearing Village Green, you can't help feeling they are going through the motions here at times. The trademark modulations somehow seem a bit more predictable this time around, the themes a little less original and there is a little more reliance of vaudevillian pastiche and straight blues-rock when they paint themselves into a musical corner. Don't get me wrong, that isn't often, and this is still a great album, perhaps an overlooked gem even. Just not quite a five-star album for me though.

Long story, but when I first started playing guitar in my mid-teens I used to think that to qualify to do so, you HAD to wear black, listen to metal and play very fast and very loud, with the goal being to nail loads of widdly widdly solos. I don't think that any more and, while I can still listen to some metal, a lot of it just hasn't aged that well for me. And Justice For All falls into the latter category, I'm afraid. It's just too one-dimensional. It hasn't it's moments, melodically, but it is all secondary to the style of music which is mostly rhythmic, aggresive and repetitive.

Songs Of Love is great, the rest is not so great, despite the sense of Britpop nostalgia it brings with it. Hannon is a much smarter songwriter than you might give him credit for, unfortunately, The Divine Comedy's music has never been as smart or as witty as it thinks it is. Casanova is never truly awful, but it is something of a period piece, and one which was kind of parodying another period first time around at that. Anyway, two stars for an album with one five-star track.

I don't like Paul Reed Smith guitars - I immediately picture a middle-class, middle-aged, fat, balding, midlife crisis guitar "collector" who has got together with his mates to form a pub covers band. They all play the same shit - Paranoid, Brown-Eyed Girl and fucking Black Magic Woman. By extension, I've never really entertained Santana, and on the strength of Abraxas, I've not really missed out on much. Nice organ and Rhodes sounds, nice guitar sounds, and, if you like cymbal swells in extended intros, then you will love this album. To me, it just sounded like lots of people playing instruments for the sake of playing instruments. Two stars, just for the funky organs and Oy Como Va

I agree with everyone who says this is ahead of it's time - it does sound like a more recent production than 1981. Sadly it is also a load of self-indulgent cut and paste gibberish set to some reasonably interesting rhythms. Expected better from Byrne and Eno to be honest, I do own this album but hadn't got round to listening to it until now. On a side note, why do so many of the reviews for this album in particular look as if they were written by bots...?

Brilliant corners. Sadly, what lies within them is unlistenable shit. I set out with an open mind, but this project is really starting to turn me against jazz... One of the keys on that piano is definitely a bit out as well!

Easily Elton's best work, probably spread a little too thinly across a double album to make it a truly top-tier LP. Enough great songs to warrant four stars from me though.

As soon as I hear that TIE fighter howl from the start of Lose Control, I'm in my early 20s again, spending way too many hours grinding away on the licenses on the original Gran Turismo. Ash's contribution to the GT soundtrack was one of the more memorable songs (three Feeder songs, really?) - they were, like me, of "the Star Wars generation", hitting their 20s at the height of Britpop... they should have been right up my alley. But I never quite warmed to them as much as I might have been expected to on paper. From the smart indie-pop of Goldfinger, down to the catchy 90s punk of Kung Fu the singles from 1977 are all decent offerings. For the rest of the album the hooks are spread a little thinly, and the reliance on balls-to-the-floor wall of sound guitars comes across as a back-up plan when the hooks aren't cutting it. I suppose the frustration with Ash is that the best moments from their debut point to something more sophisticated and refined which they never really quite delivered. Two stars may seem harsh - I did consider three, and it's not too far off - it's a solid debut, but, while it is of my era and presses the nostalgia buttons, it is all just a little bit superficial and, most of the time, dumb.

When this came out, heavy metal was about as popular as it has been, and probably ever will be. As a consequence of (or, perhaps, part of the reason for) this is that "the black album" is their most poppy and accessible collection of songs. Fans can argue about whether that makes it their "best" album, but to me it is the most melodic and chart-friendly collection of songs regardless. The simple truth is, my music taste has evolved since 1991 - while I have fond memories of this era, 30-plus years on it is all delivered with such earnest, with such a lack of wit and irony, it just makes me cringe. I mean, I get anger is an energy and all that, but singing about monsters under your bed and shit as if you really, REALLY mean it - come on, give us a break. It's all just a bit silly, isn't it?

Post-punk icons, or just synth-goth weirdness. For me, the warbling vocals are pitched somewhere between operatic soft metal and Vogon poetry, amusingly at odds with the (occasionally) chirpy synth lines, but generally adding an uncomfortably high-pitched icing to a needlessly melodramatic cake comprised of surprisingly tuneless 80s pretentiousness. I did warm to the sound a little the more I listened, but - no, not for me - its just a bit too proud of its own pomposity to be taken seriously.

I've seen people say great things about Talk Talk, but I've never quite got what all the fuss is about. This is undoubtedly a slickly-produced album, pleasant sounding for sure, and the band definitely have an ear for taking a chord progression somewhere a little more unexpected than their chart-friendly pop presentation might suggest. But listening to it right through for the first time in a while, I think I've finally figured out what irks me about Talk Talk and bands of a similar ilk - it's all the "space". For me, Life's What You Make it stands out as a single material because it has a hook, and that hook is the simple guitar line that takes over from the vocal in the chorus. Contrast that with the second track, I Don't Believe In You - the chorus follows the same format, a line of lyric crammed into the first bar of a four bar progression, but here, rather than having something melodic hold your interest for the remainder of those four bars, the chord progression just plays out and resolves back to repeat itself with nothing much else going on. To me, that's just three bars of nothingness, I don't get why you would choose to have that in your song, unless of course it was a really exciting and unexpected run of chords or something, which in this case it is not. It just seems boring. Without getting too deep into it, the tension between melody and the musical foundation of the track is what gives a song its momentum, IMHO. Maybe a bit unfair to compare anything to Strawberry Fields Forever, but think of how, in that song, the medlody of the vocal leads you right into the next chord change, and then that next chord throws you into the next line of vocal and so on, like this constantly shifting balancing act that feels like it's falling apart but is somehow holding itself together at the same time. Talk Talk don't sound like that - they sound like a load of musical backing tracks were conceived and recorded, and then the lyrics were sprinkled on afterwards and fell into a few of the cracks here and there. It's just a bit dull, and the vocal melodies are only occasionally as exciting as the music. Not a massive fan of his voice in general either, which doesn't help. Sadly, for all that has been added to what is, on the face of it, a slick 80s pop sound by way of thoughtful progressions and subtle modulations in key, there just aren't enough big hooks and catchy choruses to make it all worthwhile.

While this album ended up going in a slightly more alt-rock direction than I thought it was heading from the opening track, it is still ostensibly a dance album. And dance is something I don't really do. I've always thought it would be far more interesting to make music like this than it is to actually listen to it, and so it often tends to hold my attention on that basis only - I kind of zone out thinking about the creative process and where the samples might have come from etc. From the brazen use of Kraftwerk on the opening track right through to the post-Strokes vocal treatment and Talking Heads-esque rhythmic choices, this album wears its influences well and truly on its sleeve. Nowhere near as deep as you get the impression it hopes it is, it's fairly repetitive, simplistic and crass, but well executed nonetheless. Lacking a bit of soul throughout really. One of numerous albums I've encountered which have left me scratching my head as to why precisely they made this list.

Some of you may be familiar with the simple, but insightful, take on crafting a successful plot made by South Park's Matt Stone and Trey Parker. In a nutshell, if your story is full of "this happened" and then "this happens" you are probably doing it wrong - a compelling story is made up of "this happened" so "this happens" therefore "this happens". A chain of events or actions and their consequences. Prog rock, to me, is the musical equivalent of the "and the " problem - a load of unrelated musical ideas strung together one after the other. I know plenty of people who swear 70s Genesis albums are the greatest thing to ever happen to humanity, and, lord knows, I've given those first six or so albums plenty of chances to grow on me. But it just isn't happening. While I "get it" and appreciate the craft, it just doesn't appeal to me. It has its high points, but the tracks don't work in isolation as well as say, a Pinball Wizard does taken out of the context of Tommy. Still, it's a bonkers narrative, but as with so many things of this ilk, I'm not so sure it is really as deep and meaningful as it pretends it is - it's all just a bit silly really (I think that's the third album this week that has led me to that same conclusion).

If the post-Britpop music scene gave rise to what has affectionately become known as "landfill indie", can we invoke "dumpster-fire grunge" for the corresponding era in American alternative music? And, more importantly, would The Dandy Warhols be included in the blaze? Hmm, possibly. Simple, but effective, shoegaze psych meets radio-friendly late-90s danceable pop-rock - the two sides of the Dandys are both fairly easy on the ear. In between, however, is some rather nondescript filler material which sees a dip in quality and focus from the band - dare I say it, they just don't have the musical depth of their self-destructive on-off chums Brian Jonestown Massacre. That said, Dandy Warhols carved a little niche for themselves, nestled one foot firmly into it and still managed to dip the other foot into the charts for a couple of years in the mid-to-late 90s. While it is definitely starting to show it's age, Come Down is still a reasonably pleasant, if slightly superficial and inconsistent, listen.

Ah well, there you go - less than 24 hours after Brian Wilson's death was announced and this pops up for me. In the mixed-up Beach Boys UK release chronology, this album directly preceded Pet Sounds, with Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) not hitting British shelves until after that release. Not that it matters too much - only California Girls and Let Him Run Wild from the latter might have clued listeners in to what was coming next. As it stands, Today! is a collection of smart rock 'n' roll surf-pop which sees Wilson still seemingly trying to emulate his hero Phil Spector for much of the first half of this record. The complex vocal arrangements and effortless key changes are, as can be said of much of The Beach Boys' pre-Pet Sounds output, wasted on such lightweight material for the most part, effective though it is. The second half - the original LP's flip side - is where the album really shines for me. Please Let Me Wonder is the album's stand-out track, and from thereon in, Today! is more mature and laid back, working as a suite of moody pieces of music rather than memorable individual tracks. While the songwriting doesn't quite match the ambition at this stage, Wilson's studio genius is still evident, as it is in the formulaic but fun tracks on the first side, albeit slightly less so. Despite all this, The Beach Boys Today! sounds incredibly clean-cut and immature in the context of everything else that was happening in 1965. A gentle step up in production values by their own standards rather than a giant leap, by the time of it's release, many of their peers were making much bolder and exciting statements with albums.

On the surface, this ticks all the right boxes - sadly, I just found it a bit dull to listen too. For all the quirky instrumentation and offbeat arrangements, this is just straightforward akt-rock cosplaying as something more sophisticated. And the singer's voice annoys on most of the tracks. Interesting in places, but this is not for me - not sure what all the hype is about.

Of all the country music this project has tried to foist on me thus far, this is easily the most pleasant on the ear. The sound of a band and a voice entirely comfortable with what they are doing, which is - by Ray's own admission in the very quaint "introduction" track - songs about happiness, sadness and heartache... and getting wasted in bars, being an asshole to girlfriends - all the usual stuff. Traditional country fare, but with a pop edge, competent production, tight playing and a decent amount of personality. Not my bag at all, but it is getting a well-deserved two stars, if nothing else for that killer chord turnaround which provides the hook on the title track. Lovely stuff, shame the rest of the album is never quite as inventive, but it is solid enough within it's own limited boundaries nonetheless.

Embarrassingly awful.

Experimentation is fine, but it has to be a means to an end - there has to be a singular goal or at least some guiding hand tying everything together. Blur maybe lacks that focus, and as a result is often more "interesting" than "listenable". Beetlebum and Song 2 always struck me as being a little too contrived as different ends of the indie spectrum, and MOR is just Boys Keep Swinging played sideways. Luckily, the album tracks you might be less familiar with do Albarn's more introspective lyrics the most justice - the moody ska of Death Of A Party, or more authentically trippy organ workout Theme From Retro, for example. Elsewhere, Look Inside America sees Blur paying tribute to themselves, so there is something for fans of their previous albums too, while Coxon gets his moment on You're So Great. Overall, less than a sum of its parts maybe, but far from the worst album you'll hear on this list.

You get those X-Factor artists or boy band members with no real musical ability of their own, except for the fact they can sing a bit - for years they are propped up by a record label, and a team of songwriters and producers. Now, I'm not knocking that, per se. Someone gets famous, someone else gets rich, we know the score. Well, you know when that relationship eventually comes to an end, and suddenly this artist is left high and dry without any original songs being written for them any more and they have to record an album of swing or Christmas songs because it is cheap and easy... then they have to do loads of TV interviews to promote the album and LIE THROUGH THEIR TEETH pretending they "always wanted" to record an album of jazz standards etc. Embarrassing. Well, Sweetheart Of The Rodeo comes across exactly like that. EXCEPT Roger McGuinn was capable of writing songs like Eight Miles High and You Showed Me, and apparently he really DID always want to record an album of "traditional American music". Madness. While there was always a whiff of country to the Byrds sound, and while I cannot deny Clarence White's guitar playing is mesmerising on some of the live recordings from the time he became a full-time member of the band, Sweetheart Of The Rodeo represents a cliff-face drop off in creativity and quality from the amazing albums that directly preceded it. Big fan of The Byrds, but their music is not on this album.

Surely everyone likes The Ace Of Spades? Well, No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith sees Motörhead churn out a faithful live rendition of said track along with a selection of other songs which, for the most part, follow an almost identical template less effectively, while Lemmy barks vocals which swoop between the exact same couple of melodic intervals, relative to whichever key the given song happens to be in, also less effectively. Thankfully, unlike most metal acts of the era, Motörhead don't do pretentious 10-minute epics - the bulk of the tracks here are around the three-minute mark. That still doesn't prevent listening fatigue setting in after a just a handful of similar-sounding tracks, especially when they shot their load by opening with their most well-known (and best, by a country mile) song. I mean, as live albums go, this is loud and raucous and solid, and I'm sure this was/is a big hit among fans, but I'm not sure why it is on this list - it's not like the atmosphere is enhanced by the Lemmy's extensive repertoire of stage banter: "This next song is dedicated to ____________, it's called _________" bang! Evey single time. And it's not as if you get to see the famous lighting rig while listening to the album. I made the mistake of listening to the expanded version on Spotify, which reminded me the song Jailbait exists. Good lord. Enough. (As an interesting side note, the lettering on the album cover "No sleep'til Hammersmith" was actually created in 2018 by a Mrs Muriel Benson, aged 63, from Cleethorpes, using her evaluation copy of Microsoft Word, which she had used just once before to create a poster for a coffee morning taking place at her local parish church. In an utterly revolutionary technique, her design was then sent back in time through a wormhole to 1981 for Motörhead to use on their sleeve. It was not until the artwork was actually at the printers that someone noticed Muriel DIDN'T HAVE A SINGLE FUCKING CLUE about formatting text and possessed only the most rudimentary design skills and computer literacy. And by then it was too late to change...)

Top tier hip-hop. Only just shy of being a five-star album for me.

Not as attention-grabbing as their celebrated debut, nor as energetic as follow up White Light/White Heat, their 1969 offering is perhaps a but too laid back for it's own good. The arrangements and simplistic recordings often fail to do justice to the equally simple - but occasionally effective - songs here. After the irresistibly melodic opener Candy Says and the proto-indie of What Goes On, the Velvet's third album loses focus somewhat. Which is a shame, because there are more gems to come - Pale Blue Eyes - it just kind of goes off the rails and never really finds its way back on track through the murky and uninspired production.

To be brutally honest, there are songs on here that I don't particularly like, and don't care to listen to - but, across the double album, there still is more than an album's-worth of top quallity material. While this may lose marks for lesser albums, I'm happy enough that the best of Songs In The Key Of Life is so visionary and unique and has inspired so much music that came after that it derserves five stars without hesitation. Definitley an album everyone should hear at least once.

There's a photo that does the rounds every now and then on social media, you may have seen it: A stack of cassettes, usually accompanied by a caption explaining that the seven albums pictured were all released within 44 days of one another in 1991. Metallica, Use Your Illusion 1&2, Blood Sugar Sex Magic, Nevermind, Superunknown and Ten. The simple story here is that for a brief spell in the early 90s, rock ruled the world. Once an exclusive club reserved for unkempt teens in mascot festooned denims, suddenly Iron Maiden were topping the charts, Guns N' Roses had a song attached to one of the most hyped movies of all time and thrash pioneers Metallica were churning out radio-friendly, verse-chorus-verse hits. The bigger picture, of course, is that, just as quickly metal embraced pop sensibilities and eyed global domination, grunge happened and yanked the rug from under it. I mention all of this because Metallica's perennial sparring partners, Megadeth kind of missed the boat in many ways, releasing a more traditional sounding metal album - Rust In Peace - in 1990, just as metal's populist wave hit. By the time of their next long player they were well and truly in a post-grunge world and revised their sound accordingly (albeit less so than some of their peers). You can take it either way really: Rust In Peace is the sound of uncompromising thrash stalwarts ploughing ahead with what they do best and refusing to sell out... Or it is the sound of a band who really aren't that diverse, adaptable or, frankly, that smart. Hangar 18 and Lucretia are decent slabs of melodic metal, but my attention soon begins to wander the more chugga-chugga and widdly-widdly things get - if you don't like bitter and sneering, sadly Dave Mustaine doesn't really have any other settings. War, death, anger, corruption, rejection, more war, more anger - even in 1990 the themes were cliche. If ever there was an album where you could imagine how it sounds simply by looking at the cover art, this is it. Fourteen-year-old me lapped up the angst, the sci-fi overtones and the guitar gymnastics. On reflection, Megadeth are a decent singles band within their genre, but they never quite had the depth to produce a consistent long-player, and we're always overshadowed by their peers in that sense. Rust In Peace is probably the peak for them but it bathed in the light of a golden hour of 80s metal which was already dimming by the time it hit the shelves. I could award two stars out of nostalgia alone, but I have to be realistic, and a five-star scale doesn't allow for much wiggle room. The simple fact is, this music doesn't do much for me in 2025 - I doubt I'll be listening to this again any time soon.

While I've always loved Jamie Hewlett's artwork, I never quite got into Tank Girl - it seems to do that thing that British comics always do where they make a huge deal of trying really hard to distance themselves from other comics... this comic is way too cool to be like all those other lame comics, look how subversive and different we are! And, in a way, that kind of sums up Gorillaz too - it's all a bit tongue-in-cheek and self-indulgent, at times you almost feel they are mocking the styles they are aping (hah - APING) rather than respecting them, a kind of snobbish "making *insert musical genre* is easy, look - we did it with a load of cartoon characters in our lunch hour" vibe. It's hard to judge Gorillaz without bringing all that baggage to the table, which perhaps is a little unfortunate. Their strengths are also their greatest weakness - I can't help thinking the very nature of Gorillaz sets the music up as something superficial; something not to be taken too seriously. I wasn't massively bowled over by it at the time - it's certainly an ambitious project in many respects, catchy and interesting in patches, but rarely both at the same time. I'd say I've definitely warmed to this album over the years to a degree, but it still has a lightweight, experimental feel to it, which is, perhaps, intentional, but, either way, it is lacking some real substance.

I'd be lying if I said I was up to speed on modern hip-hop, or if I claimed to be an expert. Kendrick Lamar seems to be a name that keeps coming up though, and all I have heard (that I am aware of) until now is They Not Like Us. So, straight off the bar, as much as I love De La Soul, I've never really quite understood the concept of the hip-hop "skit", and neither am I in any way religious - so the "praise the lord" answerphone shit going on here is off-putting from the get-go. Obviously, this is lyrically dense (even compared to other rap albums) so I am not going to have time to absorb everything on that front. That said, apart from a bit of soul-searching and self-reflection, we we seem to be in familiar gangsta territory... so my take on Good Kid M.a.a.d City kind of stands or falls on the quality of the music, and to be honest I was more than a little disappointed. It's fairly sparse and uninspiring for the most part, only a handful of tracks struck me as being built around an interesting sample or beat - musically, the bulk of it sounded more like late 90s R 'n' B than what I would call hip-hop. After a couple of listens, I'm still not really sure what all the fuss is about to be honest.

Compared to every other similar album I have encountered on the list so far (jazz / roots / blues / world / excessive noodling), this one is a breath of fresh air in many ways. Much more exciting, energetic, funky and fresh sounding from the get-go. A palatable blend of instruments and sounds with the focus on snappy rhythms - even the sax overload is not too off-putting in this context. It is, however, still a predominantly instrumental record full of reaaaaaaally long tracks which descend into improvisational hell. All fantastically performed, of course, but overall I would describe the experience as... well, imagine you dropped the needle on a copy of the first Doors LP, and it lands right at the start of the instrumental break to Light My Fire, then imagine you are anticipating that glorious moment where it all resolves and reverts back to the intro riff, the final verse and chorus. Then imagine that moment NEVER COMES, but the instrumental break just continues on for another hour. Yeah, it's kind of like that. Don't think that means I didn't enjoy this though, but it's only ever going to be background music fodder, and would surely provide a good source of some sampled breaks and beats if nothing else.

Deee-Lite oscillate between house-y vocal dance and funky hip-hop beats, with the former sounding a tad dated and somewhat straight-laced compared to the latter. If the question is "is there more to Deee-Lite than Groove Is In The Heart?" then the answer is probably yes, although nothing else quite hits that same very high standard. At it's best, this is a decent, quirky piece of 90s pop which spans severel danceable genres - the quality control is a little off, but it's very much of my era and still appeals to me for the most part.

It's easy to overthink these things. In the grand scheme of things, TKATVGPS does nothing particularly innovative, when their peers - perhaps - were redefining what an album could be, and how it could be made. There is a concept here, which boils down to little more than a prevailing sense of nostalgia throughout, but the simple fact is that this album has endured without the whistles and bells of it's contemporaries on the strength of it's songs. And that is perhaps, all that is needed. Fabulous stuff.

Pavement are very intentionally obtuse, eccentric and rough around the edges, all traits which have seen many an act topple over into the abyss of pretentiousness, but the California quintet manage to pull off the slacker schtick with confidence and swagger. The single selection from this, their "breakthrough" second album was spot on - the three tracks chosen are definitely the best Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain has to offer, but even if the remainder is a little more off-kilter and chart-unfriendly, this album is still somehow more than a sum of it's parts. I never quite understood Mark E Smith's claim that Pavement were just ripping off The Fall - although I disagree, I can maybe hear where he was coming from after reacquainting myself with tracks such as Hit The Plane Down. Unlike many of their peers, Pavement's wonky indie material has aged well, and I enjoyed listening to this again for the first time in a while.

Do not understand the appeal - this is boring as shit from start to finish. They sounded great with Bob Dylan and his songs up there in front of them, but this is just dreck, so far as I am concerned.

Townsend's ambitious Lifehouse project was abandoned, and this album is the result - The Who probably set themselves up as a more straightforward rock band for the 70s in the process. The music is still thrilling for the most part - obviously, Moon is still behind the kit - but I can't help feeling the beat group, art-pop version of The Who from the previous decade is still the version I prefer.

This always sounded to me exactly how you would expect a band based around a producer to sound. Not to discredit Butch Vig's obvious talent, of course, but it's polished to the point there is no soul left - it's gritty and grungy with dirty guitars, but there's very little actual grime, grunge, or dirt. The arrangements quite often strike me as being dictated by what bells and whistles they could add in the studio, rather than what served the material best. I can't deny it spawned a string of successful singles, which are all decent enough, but they have not aged as well as other tracks from this era and / or genre. Garbage is one of those albums which is perfectly good within it's own field, and I'm happy to give it two stars on that basis, but I'm pretty sure it (and the band) was hyped way beyond it's worth back in the day, and I fail to see any lasting impact this has had on the greater music world.

I'm 129 albums into this, and this is the first hidden gem I've drawn. I haven't heard this (or even heard of Jorge Ben Jor) before, but this is the first truly worthy entry into the world music section. Funky, fun, soulful, and poppy, I'll definitely listen again and will probably add a copy to my collection. Nothing too deep, or life-changing here, of course, (particularly to an English-speaker, but it does pay tribute to Brazilian football legend Zico which is as good a reason for a song to exist as any in my book) and the playing and production is tight and soulful rather than revolutionary, but definitley the kind of album I would have hoped to encounter in this list. My only real complaint would be that there is way way way too much cuíca playing. No, seriously, put it down for the next track, please. And Rod Stewart deifintely ripped off Taj Mahal on Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? the cheeky beggar.

Heroes to Zeros manages to be a solid album from an interesting band who have always forged their own unique path, without having any real stand-out songs or massively memorable moments. The kind of album you don't really think about much once the final track has played out - it holds your interest for it's duration, but I'd imagine for anyone who is not a fan this represents the least of The Beta Band's LP outings, despite being the most accessible and upbeat in many ways. I like it, but I can see why many might not.

Cocteau Twins are one of those bands, aren't they - critics love them, you know the name, you know a bit about them, but you don't really know anyone who is absolutely crazy about them. And if that seems like a criticism, it isn't - it's just that they are a band based around textures and feels more than out-and-out bangers. I was trying to think of a way to describe their sound and came up with this: Remember that period when digital guitar FX were all the rage in the late 80s/early 90s? And it suddenly made sense for the aspiring guitarist to buy a multi-effects unit rather than lots of individual dedicated pedals (oh, how times have changed)? Well, they would have decent enough chorus, and reverbs, and delays, and all the usual stuff, but there would also be a load of crazy presets with dumb names like Icy Metal Skyscraper, or Sea Breeze or something and you could never really imagine a practical use for them without descending into some crazy prog metal nightmare. Well, Cocteau Twins sound like they use all of those presets ALL OF THE TIME, but have somehow found a way to make them sound cool. And, again, that is certainly not a dig. Suffice to say, they have always beat their own path with an elegant and sophisticated sound which is instantly recognisable as "indie", but somehow strangely distant from any of the bands you may try to compare them to. Heaven Or Las Vegas is possibly their most accessible and commercial sounding record, but still feels like parts of it are a puzzle lurking beneath the layers that you have to figure out for yourself. And I'm probably reading way too much into it, but I have warmed to Cocteau Twins over the years - while I might criticise other bands for having a great sound but not enough catchy tunes, I feel like these guys are kind of like that by design, and I probably wouldn't have them any other way.

Not really anything I can add here is there? A triumph of supreme confidence and vision, matched with phenomenal talent. On most, but not all days, my favourite Bowie album, and a serious contender for any top 20 list, never mind 1,001.

Way too slick to be genuinely soulful, and melodically malnourished. All it has going for it is the occasional funky groove, because the voice just isn't that interesting or original, especially over the bloated runtime. Really dull stuff, I expected more fron this.

Few artists have enjoyed such popularity in the West, while managing to pour so much of their belief systems - be they religious, political, or emotional - into their music, and for that Marley must be admired. You don't have to compromise, you just have to be really good at what you do, and eventually people will catch on. With a string of memorable hits it is easy to see why this is regarded as one of his finest records, and The Wailers are in fine form here. While I am fond of reggae, it is just a little too laid back, and a little too repetitive for me to give this five stars, but it is not far off.

I've already been given Buckley's Happy / Sad, and on that occasion was pretty underwhelmed by an artist who has never really appealed to me. Found this a little more interesting in it's production values - started out well with a bit more of a Gene Clark 60s folk-psych vibe, but soon degenerated into tedious renaissance fair trappings. Still not convinced by his voice, and don't really understand his enduring appeal, but by the same token there was nothing truly awful here: bang average songs, occasionaly elevated by fairly decent production.

Basically, your mum sings the soundtrack to an imaginary Bond movie, but the music is produced by Disney and the lyrics written by Ken Russell. It's a marriage made in hell. The undoubtedly talented Neil Hannon indulges in all of the worst of his nudge-nudge wink-wink traits, while Costello's sophisticated melodic pop sense is the collection's only redeeming feature - if you can bear the treatment. The production just sounds messy... theatrical arrangements often seem to be occupying a totally different sonic space to Lemper's (not particularly brilliant) vocals, rather than complimenting them. Sample lyric: "If sex were an Olympic sport, we would have won the gold." Jesus.

A load of mad Brummies go on a no-frills garage-psych blues rock tip and heavy metal is born. Can't fault them on that front - their brutal take on the prevailing sounds of the late 60s went harder than what had come before, partly through necessity (Butler was new to bass and was keeping it simple, detuned strings were more forgiving on Iommi's home-made fingertips). Throw Osbourne's morbid lyrical leanings and full-tilt vocal style to the mix, coupled with the fact the album was recorded in just 12 days with virtually no overdubs, and you have the key to the formula. Here's the rub though - it's a formula that runs out of ideas fairly rapidly. The second half in particular is a real chore to get through, and by the time you have reached the end, there is little from the opening couple of tracks memorable enough to have stayed with you. If air guitaring round your living room to endless pentatonic guitar gymnastics is your thing, then fine. For me, there are nowhere near enough real hooks to reel me in and hold my interest. Historically notable, of that there can be no doubt - but then, so is Stonehenge... ultimately, it's just a load of rock that really does nothing special or relevant in 2025.