the bass on the dave coulier song cross eyed bear chiming one chord guitar on chickenshit felt like skipping forgiven. christian rock. love an album title taken from a line in a verse. head over feet is the sound of riding in the back of the minivan to buy furniture in amish country 40 bags of popcorn

the vaguely middle eastern female vocal on smack my bitch up. running to lose weight for high school wrestling “breeeathe with meh!” lol enjoyed that from start to finish. if five stars means i’m buying it on vinyl, i’ll go 4. i should be on my way to a wendy’s in the back of a sedan someone inherited from their grandma. case logic binder. “crab destructah” (?)

v strong decemberists cover photo and i can’t abide that. no one sounds like grace slick. comin back to me isn’t a type of song i love very often. but i ended up loving it. appreciating this more than the last time i listened. college? white rabbit really is a straight fucking banger isn’t it boys. it’s a good record. i’ve just never bought into them as much as others from the same time. something overwrought about it. the title…

🧅 THE ONION White Man Approaching Middle Age Pours Heart and Soul Into Sad Little Rolling Stones Album Review That Maybe Three Other People Will See TUJUNGA, CA— love “snack time” written over the toilet on album cover. “taco thighs” too. heard sympathy for the devil and street fighting man ten thousand times, but that doesn’t make them any less great songs. fun to try to listen to classic rock radio hits as if for the first time. sympathy adds one element (piano, woo-woos) with every verse. i think the only guitar is the (blistering) solo and subsequent lead phrases. if keith is your only conscious guitarist, you know the other one is in trouble. “anastasia / screamed in vain.” 2 good 4 me. 👻 brian jones’ final flight: the billowing slide guitar on no expectations. the “yep!” on dear doctor. 🤌🤌 gotDAMN these boys knew how to shamble. the electric guitar lying on the floor on parachute woman. bleary. blown out. sick. two harmonicas. harmonicae. the bass on jigsaw puzzle. also gotta love a verse that just goes through the band and provides one line of characterization per member. but if there’s a weak link on the album, this is it. interesting, listenable, and catchy weak link though. by the time you’re on street fighting man, you’re in the thick of it. then the farty one note horn(?) solo. what a gift we’ve been given. i remember getting so stoked to learn open e tuning after hearing prodigal son. entrancing rhythm. love a classic country blues rework. lol. stray cat blues. “i know you’re only 15.” easy, sir michael. two electric guitars! doing that muscular stones weave we all (only i?) know and love. factory girl. tabla! everyone’s favorite irish-appalachian-indian folk song. a really sweet and unique song. just long enough to make you miss it when it’s gone. like its namesake. salt of the earth. keith richards’ little baby bird voice. love it every time they coax him out of his cage to sing a lead. “you got the silver” will forever be the best, but this scratches my itch until let it bleed pops up. yes, let’s bring in the gospel chorus to go out on a high note after 40 minutes of songs about *checks notes* trying to bang underage girls. FIVE and it’s not even their best one. when do the skynyrd albums start popping up?

kids sing, kiids siiing. killer. set this party on fry. sekurrr. remember when he was a class conscious underdog making poignant statements about systemic racism and the empty promise of material wealth? touching song about wanting to transcend your circumstances. militant song about fighting the good fight. always funky, consistently balanced with humor. even if you can see his god complex poking through, at least it’s the good side of christianity he’s conflating himself with. yeah yeah jay z, hand the mic back to the exciting new young upstart. get em high. in the pocket now. not one stutter yet, what a great fuckin album. poor ray ray’s broke ass. “damn baby i can’t do it that fast but i know someone who can” haha. enta twista. party certainly on fry by this point. oh shit i forgot about this ludicrous song. sick guitar sample too. “say my name like candyman and i’ll come fix you up like the handyman.” makes it sound easy. one killer beat after another. and how FUN is this record. propulsive and swaggering. a couple whoos comin on cuz. i’ll be the smartest dead guy lol. excellent from start to finish. the skits always hit and even have a certain rhythm. family business is so earnest and innocent. 5 w/o a doubt

their pastoral folk record lol. a lot of zep hate out there. people despise them. i get why i guess. i don’t listen to them like i'm in high school anymore, but when their records come up in my routine, i always get a bump of excitement. scratches a certain itch. primal stuff. i’ve got room for a slice of overblown self indulgent cock rock. immigrant song like standing on the prow of a viking longship yadda blah yadda. when i put this record on in the house, i always wish they built to this track instead of kicking off with it. but it also kinda reads like getting the last of II out of their systems. worth listening to on headphones to really hear the bass run in the chorus. sick tremolo chords too. give me the transition from friends into celebration day. 🤌 great phaser sound bridging the two, then it snaps into focus and BOOM full tilt boogie. band of gorillas fronted by a horny chimp. i see how “since i been” can be characterized as a boring slog or a texturally complex blues meditation. i tend toward the latter and think it’s the right kind of moody. spooky mansion blues. i think at least the drums were recorded in the giant foyer of an old manor house, and it sounds that way. the organ is haunted; the creaky cricket playing the kick drum is right on time. page will never be on my mount rushmore of guitarists, but his playing is great here, particularly when he hits those arpeggiated chords just after 5:30. plant is a weird shrieking ghoul. it must have been funny to have his screechy ass wailing all the time. out on the tiles. pubfight song. great boneheaded single note riff. guitar and bass playing the same thing. rides roughshod over those big dumb bashy bonham drums. i don’t give a fuck by now. i’m in it and it kicks hard and it feels good. someone break a pint of bitter over my head. gallows pole starts as a funeral dirge and morphs into something dynamic and fun. rolling banjo. tangerine is the last zep song that prompted a 39 year old man to tell me, “i fucking hate led zeppelin. they suck so much ass.” lol ok. it’s also the song in the final scene of almost famous. your choice i guess. pedal steel. nothin wrong w bron y aur stomp. i came here to stomp. good weird blown out finish w the rework of shake em on down (for roy harper (for some reason)). the guitar playing is caustic and stuttering, and the slide sounds like a straight razor. probably influenced by nostalgia and familiarity, but i’m going 5 again. twenty years i’ve been putting this on and feeling better with every track. it ain’t for the poetry—it’s for getting me head bashed in. three records in a row that feel like old friends.

a pivotal point in american music and culture. this is when he lost the baby fat and woody guthrie impression of the first record, turned inward (“girl from”, “don’t think twice”) and outward (“masters”, “hard rain”) to create a work of genius. there’s also fun (“bd’s blues”, "i shall be free") and a glimpse of the full-blown lyrical expressionism of later albums like blonde on blonde. love him or hate him (so much hate out there; typically from dudes), this album and this raspy little jewish dude from north minnesota have shaped your american cultural experience. i feel like a better person every time i listen to this—when i'm forced to go through the range of emotions it evokes. a cathartic listen. they don't give out the nobel prize for literature to just anybody. i welled up on my way to work listening to girl from north country. imagine someone writing that for you. i sang joyfully along to the yips and yeahs and “right nows” on bd’s blues. masters of war. sneering. disgusted. nakedly pointing a finger where it needed to be pointed. righteous shit. hard rain is the post-apocalyptic sequel to masters framed as a question/answer conversation between man and boy. devastating poetic images, decades before cormac mccarthy put it in novel form. newborn babe with wild wolves all around it. ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard. you're welcome to read them symbolically or metaphorically, but you don't have to. face value will get you there. don’t think twice is one of the best songs in the world. there's a reason everyone has covered it in every possible way. oxford town. the jauntiest lil song about institutional racism and its disastrous effects out there. catchy. too short. i usually listen twice. dude performed "only a pawn in their game" before MLK delivered "i have a dream." talkin world war 3 blues. just out there talking to himself. truthful observations pulled out of thin air. "but all the people can't be all right all the time. i think abraham lincoln said that. i'll let you be in my dream if i can be in yours. i said that." cue corinna. simple, gorgeous, and swaying. who doesn't want to fall in love with corinna? dylan's love songs are never trite. where zep tapped into something primal with pounding drums, heavy riffs, and a particularly shrieky man, bob does it with lyrical images woven together that are profound and universal. and listen to that guitar. honey just allow me is the throwback to the first self titled album. it's fun and wacky and he does fun dylan voice stuff. but by no means the strongest song here. i shall be free is titled like a grand gesture protest song, but instead illustrates in little anecdotes an everyman's journey toward a more simple freedom. bridget bardot. anita ekberg. sophia loren. country will grow. boner joke. this album has it all. speaking of boners, a hard 5.

listened to this for the first time at matt clark's house in probably the fifth grade, all sweaty from riding our bmx bikes around the neighborhood. he had a mark brunell jersey on. we were eating those little chalk candy cigarettes, gobbling them like wood chippers. first riff i learned on guitar was "brain stew." not on this record, but of note. grew apart from green day through high school and tuned way out by the time they hit the american idiot/eyeliner phase. not bc of the message; it just read as a lame and desperate attempt at relevance from old dudes. little black outfits and suspenders and ties. punk twee with fauxhawks. the music didn't resonate with me at the time. i was into my classic rock phase, worshipping the who and zeppelin. i liked my dudes long haired and barechested and sepia toned, not looking like my weird awkward cousin at my great aunt's funeral. burnout makes apathy and immaturity fun, something to strive for. chump gets more interesting at the middle of song; the drum and bass bit with the ringing triplet chords and the excellent transition into longview. good bassline and great interaction of all three instruments. a song about apathy, watching tv, and masturbating. a winner. welcome to paradise. i like this song a lot. love how he starts singing the title in the chorus half a second before the instruments come back, the descending backing vocals. bass solo. pulling teeth. 50s style rock n roll singalong. love it. the middle of this record kicks. great guitar tone on the solo. basket case has such a killer chorus. was this on a THPS game? "she" comes dangerously close to boring power chord country until the scream and the guitar tone change. bring that baby forward in the mix boys. sassafras roots. the bass saves it, but not my favorite. it's a song. good question chorus. we still slacking, but real fast. when i come around. god that's a great song. bounces along. a real guitar riff, unlike the last song. bass ducking and weaving around under it. good slow short ringy guitar solo. in the end. drum and bass grab my attention again. FOD. nice acoustic into electric. it's a really good and fun record that i'm not dying to go out and buy. 4.

it was about time this generator spit out something i can put on during a dinner party. it’s fun to imagine what they’re playing. crescent wrench hitting airplane engine turbine. disc grinder on volkswagen chassis. clawfoot bathtub full of black water. music for steampunk orcs. the post-ww2/cold war years did wild things for german music. actually puts me in a contemplative mood. or anxious at times. so far outside normal popular musical structures that it renders you completely passive. you don’t know what comes next and you can’t sing along, so there’s no point but to sit and wait and think. it’s also undated. this kind of thing can’t really sound “old.” i won’t pretend i was sitting there begging for more, but it’s definitely remarkable for its effect on the listener and its commitment to deconstruction. it prompted genuine thought from me about what makes music good and even what makes music, period. and im curious to come back to it again. for all that, 4.

the band sounds alright at first, then the kinda neutered vocal harmony pipes up over it. woof. it's only natural is the best bad song in a bad bunch. made me think of big star for a second. yearn for big star. why would i listen to this when there's big star? instrumental as backing track for vocals. ladies and gentlemen, the house band for television's "seventh heaven." orchestra. crooning white man singing sentimental lyrics. bad. i'll listen to some pop rock. i'll put on a 10cc record. but this is dreck. this is worse than supertramp. this is a 1.