Some of the songs on this album are decent ("Wonderwall", "Don't Look Back In Anger", "Champagne Supernova") but nearly everything on this record is performed in hamfisted, overblown way that it becomes exhausting across the 50 minute running time. The graceless, dynamics-free mix also pushes the guitars *way* up to the front on many of the tracks, to the detriment of the other instruments.

Band can whip up a storm of energy, but each of the tracks feels less like a song than a series of disconnected riffs glued together. Doesn't help that the singing is monotonal and colorless either.

The opening song "Infected" stomps but that's the only real standout track. Johnson's affected singing quickly wears thin across the span of the album. The overly-long and overstuffed songs wear out their welcome after a while.

This is an interesting and diverse record with some beautiful harmonies throughout, though I wouldn't say that I found it to be compelling overall.

Right off the bat, Mr. Stills gets automatically docked a point for the gross sentiments of "Love the One You're With". ;-) He's certainly a competent songwriter and performer, but most of the tracks on this album don't rise above the ordinary (except for "Do for the Others" and "To a Flame" which show he's at his best when he dials down the rock 'n' faux-gospel bluster).

Wainwright seems to be aiming for something grandiose on this album, but a lot of the songs are overcooked and have too many sections or parts, and the net effect is that they meander rather than getting to the point; some judicious editing could have helped tighten them up. The arrangements on this album also pile on instrument after instrument but paradoxically they make the songs more generic-sounding. At its worst, the overly-busy instrumentation is practically in competition with Wainwright's voice. (I'm looking at you, "Little Sister".) However, the two standout tracks on the album, "The Art Teacher" and "Waiting for a Dream", avoid both of those mistakes - the songwriting on these is uncomplicated and direct, and the restrained arrangements give Wainwright's vocals room to breathe.

Brilliantly played and produced, *Armed Forces* is loud, direct, punchy and weird - it's everything a good rock and roll record should be. Many of the tracks are stellar and rank as the best of Costello's career. His wordplay and pointed observations are even sharper than ever on *AF* and his innovative arrangements (such as on "Green Shirt") expand on his sound in interesting ways. Not *every* track is a complete success, though. "Big Boys" is stuffed with too many songwriting tricks and struggles under its own weight. "Party Girl" has one too many sections; it's one draft away from brilliance. "Busy Bodies" and "Mood for Moderns" come across as generic new wave and don't stand up to the rest. "Sunday's Best" is a waltz-time outlier that would have been better as b-side material. None of these tracks are duds, but the fact that they fall short of the genius of "Accidents Will Happen" or "Oliver's Army" keeps this album from being a complete masterpiece.

The vocals are wavering and out of tune at times. It doesn't help that the bare-bones production often highlights the flaws and occasionally sloppy playing. The country-inflected numbers stick to predictable chords and are largely forgettable. On such a short album, the numerous instrumentals (such as "Aurora Borealis") seem like lost opportunities. The frenetic singing on faster-paced tracks like "Split Myself in Two" and "New Gods" unfortunately reduce the vocal melody to a blur. However, the perfectly-paced "Plateau" pulls everything together and is the highlight of the album; the fleshed-out arrangement really does the song justice.

Album cover says it all, looks more like five scientists conducting an experiment than a rock 'n' roll band. Almost every song is a car crash of genres, mashed together to...parody them? Is this a critique of American traditional music? Of sunshine pop? Of musicals? Of psychedelia? Just as soon as the band settles into a groove, it often gets sidetracked by some weirdo digression into discordant noise, such as on the first two-thirds of "Cloud Song" (which surprisingly has a lovely outro). I mean, do they even *like* the music that they are playing? The whole album is about as pleasant as twisting the radio dial for 37 minutes straight. Had the band dialed down the nuttiness (like they do on the relatively straightforward "Love Song for the Dead Ché") the album might have been a more musically appealing vehicle for their anti-establishment sentiments. These people are obviously accomplished musicians, just imagine what they could have accomplished if they had chosen to use their talents for good instead of evil.

A marvel of multitracking, this album is more admirable than awesome. It must take an amazing amount of forethought to be able construct a completed song with yourself on nearly every instrument. Wonder also pushes the boundaries of pop and R&B music by using (what were at the time) cutting-edge synthesizers in place of conventional instruments, charting a course that would be followed by successors such as Prince and The Gap Band. "Superstition" stomps, obviously. The tight songwriting of "You Are the Sunshine" keeps it from being too lightweight. "I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever" is a minor classic. "Tuesday Heartbreak" is solid but not stellar. "Big Brother" gets a big lift from its interesting arrangement. Some of these songs are loosely structured (e.g. "You Got It Bad Girl") or overly complex (e.g. "Blame It On The Sun") which blunts their impact. "Maybe Your Baby" is a long mostly two-chord jam that sounds like it was more fun to make than to listen to. "You and I (We Can Conquer the World)" honestly would have been better as a straight piano ballad without the sci-fi synthesizer embellishments.

Sounds more like an audiobook with low-key musical accompliment. What melodies there are vary little from track to track. Chord choices are pretty mundane, not a surprising moment to be found. (And yes, I know the backstory of this album but it still doesn't excuse what's in the grooves.)

Featuring nonstop vocalizing over repetitive jams, this album wore out its welcome *fast*. There's so much going on in the vocals that there's no real focus to the songs. On top of that, the verses and choruses (within the same song) often share the same chord progressions, which robs these songs of any sense of forward motion and causes these already-long songs to drag on even longer. D'Angelo pulls off the one-man band stunt well, and the production and execution are well done, but ultimately this album seems like a stylistic exercise, an attempt to make something that *sounds* great. Too bad the same amount of effort wasn't put into fleshing out the songs.

This lightweight album is not rough enough to be punk and not weird enough to be avant-garde, but instead takes an overly-safe middle path. Aside from "Our Lips Are Sealed" (better done by Fun Boy Three), there's not much to get excited about here.

This EDM album is muscular and sophisticated at the same time. Immaculately produced, it *sounds* like a million bucks. Containing a number of top-notch tracks (such as "Cobra Bora" and the titanic "Pacific 202"), perhaps its greatest flaw is not being able to sustain that level of quality across the entire record. *90* opens with a couple of forgettable tracks but then ups the game with the propulsive "Cobra Bora", followed by the centerpiece of the album, the "Pacific 202" version of the group's hit "Pacific State" - a magnificent track that is both energetic and serene at the same time. Following that, "Donkey Doctor" is solid but displays its Kraftwerk influence a little too plainly. Penultimate track "Sunrise" heads into chillout territory and would have made for a fine album closer (though oddly that slot is given over the bizarro "The Fat Shadow - Pointy Head Mix", a brief and incongruous slice of clattering drums and sci-fi sound effects).

The songs on the album are ok, but nothing here remotely approaches the quality of Mayfield's best work.

*EVOL* finds the members of Sonic Youth bangin' and clangin' away on their respective instruments in an attempt to make some sort of manicured noise, but unfortunately the end product doesn't add up to much. Lead track "Tom Violence" starts to build up a head of steam but the loses focus by heading into a ditch for its middle third. Kim Gordon's subdued vocals on "Shadow of a Doubt" aim for an air of noir-ish mystery but instead sound affected. On "Starpower" her vocals are reminiscent of Nico's work with The Velvet Underground but flatter and less tuneful. The spoken-word "In the Kingdom #19" is also reminiscent of VU but comes across like undercooked beat poetry. "Green Light" has a steady pulse for a couple of verses and then pointlessly digresses into formless guitar noise. After a thumpin' and bumpin' first half that sounds like it was recorded in a warehouse, "Secret Girl" busts out a surprisingly pretty keyboard part and another overly-dramatic Gordon vocal. Not to be outdone, Thurston Moore takes a turn over-emoting in the subsequent track "Marilyn Moore". All is not lost though, because album closer "Expressway to Yr Skull" (aka "Madonna, Sean and Me") manages to sustain a full dose of rock 'n' roll energy for the majority of the song and actually earns its long atmospheric outro. It's also the sole moment on the record where the guitar excursions complement the song rather than capsizing it.

Probably the high point of Genesis' career, (nearly) every song on *SEBTP* is fully-developed, and everything within the songs, even the long instrumental parts, keep the songs constantly moving forward. The songs span a wide range of emotions and musical directions, but album holds together as a whole really well. (The only thing that keeps *SEBTP* from being a complete masterpiece is the inclusion of "More Fool Me", a lightweight track with a tentative vocal by Phil Collins.)

The appeal of the tracks on album's first half (especially on those co-produced by DJ Premier) relies solely on the well-chosen samples that provide the backbone of those songs. Aguilera's grit-free vocals, however, wail over the instrumention but leave little impact. Every song seems like it's supposed to be a demonstration of her vocal capabilities, but not every techinque needs to be applied to every syllable. Had she dialed it down from time to time, it would have been far more effective. The last three songs on the first half of the album are Aguilera's observations about her career - they *want* to be bold and powerful statements but instead come across as self-absorbed. (Too bad there isn't a way to delete the fawning voicemail messages from her admirers on "Thank You (Dedication to Fans...)".) The singing on the second half of the album is more straightforward but the songs are largely genre exercises that don't break any new ground. 2

This live album of tango-based instrumentals is expertly played and flawlessly recorded, but the results aren't consistently good. Some of the songs seem like beds for improvisation (especially on the vibraphone) but these are the least interesting tracks; the ones that are more tightly composed are the strongest and most memorable ones. Opening track "Milonga is Coming" has a movie soundtrack feel to it but is too tame to be interesting. "Vibraphonissimo" has lots 'n' lots of soloing on the vibes (no surprise) but is a little too monochromatic. "Little Italy" is pleasant but not much else. The album finally starts cooking with "Nuevo Tango", a precisely-written and crisply-played track which dials back the soloing in favor of well-defined melodies. The following track "Laura's Dream" can't keep up the momentum, however. Fortunately, "Operation Tango" is another tight composition with interesting interplay between the instruments. Closer "La Muerta del Angel" keeps the tempo moving but clutters up the arrangement with overly-busy soloing. (There is also some really weird violin playing on this record, from scratchy staccato parts to sci-fi sounds to police sirens. Bizarre and a bit distracting.)

With music as minimal as this (lots of static one- and two-chord jams), then the melody is going to need to carry the day, but on *Maxinquaye* there's not much to be found. Vocalist Marina Topley-Bird's hook-free vocals leave very little lasting impression. Tricky himself often talk-raps in the background, lending creepy counterpoint. Unlike his idols Public Enemy, Tricky's use of samples is hardly transformative. Instead, he repeats loops in an attempt to conjure up some sense of atmosphere but it doesn't lead anywhere interesting.

Featuring all of the groovy sounds popular in the late 60's (cheesy organs, ratty overdriven guitar, sound effects, etc.), this album is as dated as they come. It just seems...musty. The production on this record is slapdash and the songs are frequently corny. The abrupt changes within the songs and the heavy guitar effects are attempts at making a cutting-edge album but instead end up being grating on the ear. There's too much weird for the sake of weirdness on this record, had they played it straight these tracks might have been more appealing.

*Blue Lines*, the debut album by the Bristol trip-hop group Massive Attack starts off unpromisingly with a couple of repetitive jams that go nowhere, but hits its footing with third track "Blue Lines" where Tricky rhymes over a well-constructed beat reminiscent of A Tribe Called Quest. After digressing with a well-executed cover of "Be Thankful For What You've Got" (whose robust chord progression casts the lesser songs in an unfavorable light), the album heads back into hip-hop territory with the strong but overlong "Five Man Army". The album's centerpiece, "Unfinished Sympathy", features dramatic chords, a compelling lead vocal from Shara Nelson and a complex beat, all of which gels into a sophisticated whole. "Daydreaming" is a solid track has Tricky on the mic again, with vocal embellishments by Nelson. "Lately" finds the album retreating back into a repetitive groove that never reaches escape velocity. Closing track "Hymn Of The Big Wheel" takes an unexpectedly upbeat turn but feels misplaced after the darker tone of the rest of the album. 3

This album shows flashes of adventurousness, but for the most part plays it safe. Most of the songs (such as "Save Me", "Outside Myself" and even lead single "Constant Craving") take very few risks and come across and tame and predictable. There a few exceptions: "Season Of Hollow Soul" is a bright spot, in which lang's voice is more expressive than on the other tracks and the songwriting is more dramatic. "Miss Chatelaine" and "So It Shall Be" are also a cut above the rest. On the whole, lang's voice is *technically* good, but her style takes a cautious middle path - it lacks any kind of much-needed grit on one hand, and on the other hand it is so stylistically limited that it sounds generic at times. (At least she sings the songs straight and doesn't overdo it.) The arrangements on this album are tasteful but rarely get interesting. It's well-played by talented musicians but along the way there are the occasional sparks that demonstrate that it could have been so much more.

Nelson Riddle's arrangements on this album are utterly hyperactive, with horns and strings cartoonishly jumping out in every direction, *seemingly* trying their hardest to steal the spotlight from Ol' Blue Eyes. Two things prevent this: one, Sinatra's voice is squarely up front in the mix, and two, he sings with absolute confidence and control. Lesser voices might have been overwhelmed by the barrage of instruments, but Sinatra is completely in charge. Even though most of the songs on this album are from the 30's and 40's, Sinatra's delivery is thoroughly timeless. What detracts from the whole enterprise though, is the ridiculous, gimmicky (and horribly dated) big band accompaniment which renders this album both tedious and exhausting to listen to.

On this album, Waits uses a range of different and distinct vocal styles, sometimes pushing his voice into unbelievably raspy territory. And yet it all works as a whole, as he deftly matches his vocal style to the content of each song (such as his bluesy wail on "Jesus Gonna Be Here" and his more straightforward delivery on the ballad "A Little Rain"). In addition, even at his most stylized, Waits singing stays solidly melodic, which keeps the songs grounded. The adventurousness in this album doesn't reside in the songwriting (which is uniformly good but not earthshattering) but rather in the wild instrumentation, in which Waits and his fellow musicians hold up a funhouse mirror to traditional American musical forms.

If a band's music consists of ultra-basic chord progressions and singsong melodies over simplistic, repetitive beats, they better have some secret sauce to compensate for that, but Cornershop doesn't deliver the goods. The album aims for a loose feel but comes across as unstructured, a hodgepodge of vocal and instrumental numbers with no rhyme or reason. There are a few decent tracks. "We're in Yr Corner" has muscle but overstays its welcome by a third. "It's Indian Tobacco My Friend" conjures up an eerie atmosphere with its vocal and strings samples over a beat laden with dub effects.

A pale mimicry of established blues and soul forms, this regressive and backwards-looking record has little new to offer, especially in the context of the revolutionary transformations that were happening to soul and R&B at the start of the 1970's.

An absolutely transcendent record, the beauty of this album is that it takes folk as its basis, but transforms and modernizes the sound of it without being glossy or overly polished. A gifted melodicist, lead singer and songwriter Robin Pecknold sings in a direct and clear voice without being flashly. Lyrically, the stories he tells through the songs on this album are vivid and relatable.

No wonder people got mad when Dylan "went electric". The first half of this album (the so-called "electric side") is bookended by the great "Subterranean Homesick Blues" and the energetic-but-bizarro "Bob Dylan's 115th Dream", but in between those two songs it's a hard slog. Dylan mostly sticks to repetitive blues structures, and his backing band plays in a ramshackle, rudimentary style that frankly borders on amateurish. Arrangements are nowhere to be found, it's just everybody-playing-all-at-once-all-the-time, reducing everything to featureless mismash. The "acoustic side" (featuring Dylan mostly alone on guitar and harmonica) fares much better. Here he branches out beyond basic blues chords, which gives each song its distinctive stamp. "Gates of Eden" has moments of tension and release, which give the song a dramatic character. "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" has a sophisticated decending chord progression at its heart and features some of Dylan's most potent lyrics. An unnecessary bass part intrudes in "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" but it's not enough to derail a song that serves as a fine album closer.

Perhaps the most outstanding thing on this reggae album is how the complex, intricate arrangements and the sharp, expert playing combine into a propulsive sound with a lot of character. Tosh is a confident, expressive singer, and this record contains some terrific songs ("No Sympathy", "Why Must I Try" and "Till Your Well Runs Dry"). On the downside, many of the other songs rely too much on repetitive structures, consigning them to the "also ran" category: for example, tracks like "Burial" and "Brand New Second Hand" are content to amble across a single loop of chords for their entire duration, dulling their impact. "Igziabeher (Let Jah Be Praised" and title track "Legalize It" reduce things down ever further, resulting in simplistic two-chord jams (with the former almost redeemed by an dramatic piano part and the latter containing dubious health claims about a certain controlled substance 😀).

Dinosaur Jr.'s third album has everything: distorted guitar chords strung together with no real direction, flat vocals, lackadaisical melodies, barely understandable lyrics, nothing resembling an actual riff or a hook... Frontman J Mascis is in the producer's chair for this album but somehow manages to oversee an absolutely *terrible* mix in which the submerged vocals sound completely disconnected from the instruments. (This album *might* would have benefitted from an outside producer who *possibly* could have been able to sort out this record and deliver a decent mix but we'll never know.)

The beats are competent. The production is solid but isn't anything exceptional. Common's flow isn't particularly distinctive and his lyrics aren't memorable.

An amazing marriage of (subdued) pop melodies and sequenced electronic sounds and rhythms, this groundbreaking record sounds as fresh as it did as it was originally released.

Elvis' vocal prowess is in full force on this record but, aside from a few exceptional songs ("Gentle on My Mind", "Any Day Now", "In The Ghetto"), his titanic voice overmatches the largely run-of-the-mill material. Perhaps in an attempt to keep up with The King's vocals, the production on this record is often over the top (such as on "I'm Movin' On" and "Long Black Limousine", the latter of which has multiple (!) ascending key changes), with the results being more Vegas than Memphis.

This album isn't groundbreaking in any way - it's fairly easy to draw direct lines from this record back to The Kinks and The Jam, two obvious forebears. In addition, the singer's voice isn't particularly distinctive and the arrangements don't vary much from song to song, so sonically nothing really stands out. There are a few decent songs scattered throughout ("Caught By The Fuzz", "Strange Ones", "Time") but overall the record suffers from being too much of being an imitation of other, better bands.

Proof positive that the shadow of the Beatles looms large over British rock music, the first half of this album takes its cues not only from late-period Beatles albums but also from post-Beatles progeny like ELO, without building on either of them in any significant way, though. As the record progresses, it trades the Beatles influence for other touchstones from pop and rock history. "No Sympathy" steers towards Blind Faith territory (albeit with a bizarro electronic coda). "Juxtaposed with U" is a string-heavy number that swipes its lush arrangement from Philly soul. This is obviously an ambitious record, but to pull off an enterprise like this, you need more ideas than to just stripmine British rock from the past few decades. If singer Gruff Rhys at least had an interesting voice, it might have provided a solid center to these songs, but absent that, the record comes off as hollow.

Del Rey is in fine vocal form on the album but co-producer Jack Antonoff torpedoes the proceedings here. He does his best to approximate the sound of previous LDR records but his songwriting contribtions fall grossly short of the mark. Nothing on this record approaches the sense of mystery or weirdness found on *Born to Die* or *Ultraviolence*.

First off, the production on this album is fantastic. The bass-heavy mix (with trebly guitars riding over top) is peculiar, but it works. The playing is also top notch, especially that of drummer Gary Whelan who holds everything tightly together. Vocalist Shaun Ryder talks, raps and chants over the pounding, repetitive (but hypnotic) music, with only the barest melodies showing up here and there, making him the somewhat far-removed cousin of The Fall's Mark E. Smith. Like Smith, Ryder has an anti-charisma that makes him compelling to listen to. This is an upbeat, weird and occasionally obnoxious album by a band with an idiosyncratic vision. It's certainly not a major masterpiece, but it does qualify as being a minor classic.

Some of the songs on this album are decent ("Wonderwall", "Don't Look Back In Anger", "Champagne Supernova") but nearly everything on this record is performed in hamfisted, overblown way that it becomes exhausting across the 50 minute running time. The graceless, dynamics-free mix also pushes the guitars *way* up to the front on many of the tracks, to the detriment of the other instruments.

Utterly inessential (which is made even worse by its 71-minute running time). On side 1, Stephen Stills sings the blues over competently-played but unimaginative songs. Side 2's tracks are country and bluegress genre exercises (in which Stills' voice somehow mysteriously acquires a twang). Side 3 ventures into laid-back rock territory with no discernable direction ("Move Around" does have some groovy synthesizer sounds though). Stills toughens his voice up once again for the mostly forgettable blues-inflected rock songs on side 4, though the band does manage to whip up some actual rock and roll energy on the latter half of "The Treasure (Take One)".

*Amnesiac* is the sound of Radiohead trying hard to not repeat itself in the wake of *OK Computer*. This album turns the band's sound inside-out, empasizing what used to lurk in the background and eschewing many of the elements that made up their mid-to-late 90's sound. The aim of this album seems to be to use the most minimal amount of instrumention as possible and yet be able to convey some sort of emotion or feeling. The vocal melodies are less conventional also, almost as though singer Thom Yorke is using his voice for texture rather than serving as the focal point of the songs. The results, however, are often more admirable than enjoyable. The album as a whole conjures up an atmosphere of mental dislocation, but because the individual *songs* are so skeletal, not many of them have a strong emotional impact when taken on their own. Only the more fleshed-out songs (such as "Pyramid Song", "You And Whose Army?" and "Knives Out") come close to having some distinct emotional punch.

Grating, chirpy indie pop with totally unnecessary strings 'n' flutes layered on top. A mostly predictable retread of British indie rock and pop from the 80's, there are very few surprising or innovative moments on this album (unless you consider randomly aping Black Sabbath riffs groundbreaking). In addition, the poor mix reduces vocalist Nina Persson's voice to thin whisper most of the time. In the midst of all this, there a couple of standout tracks. "Step On Me" actually has some muscle and a decent chorus. "Losers" has a solid melody and a dramatic arrangement that thankfully ditches the twee sound that plagues the rest of this record. 2/5

The three members of Sebadoh split songwriting and singing duties on this album, leading to wildly uneven results. The Lou Barlow-penned and sung tracks are top-notch. His vocals are heartfelt and the songwriting is thoughtful and nuanced. The production on these songs also really makes them shine. The contributions of the other two band members aren't up to the same level of quality, though. The Eric Gaffney songs are wacky sub-Devo semi-hardcore numbers that sit incongruously next to Barlow's more sophisticated songs. The Jason Lowenstein tracks suffer from Lowenstein's undistinguished vocals.

This album of Brazilian music might have been eye-opening to an international audience in 1964, but because the sound of bossa nova has been absorbed into not only American culture but also other cultures (such as with Japan's Shibuya-kei sound), its capacity to surprise and intrigue is somewhat diminished. The musicianship on this record is solid but everything on this album is played in such a low-key way that on the whole it's more pleasant than truly engaging. (The mix also drains away a potential source of energy by shoving the drummer all the way over to one side and turning his parts way down.) The moments where Getz' saxophone takes center stage are the high points because they inject some much-needed excitement into the songs.