1001 Albums Summary

I was pleasantly surprised by this album. It is, of course, a truism to remark that Otis Redding had one of THE great voices of the 60's. Attempting to describe that voice without resort cliche is...well, if not impossible, then certainly close to it. However, I have to confess that I didn't expect to be blown away by this album; I have heard most of the songs before, so I thought I had a good idea of what to expect. But, I must admit that I was surprised. There was something immensely (and surprisingly) enjoyable about just kicking back with some headphones and allowing Otis to transport me to a different time and place for about 50 minutes. I didn't think, I just listened. And, if a work of art is capable of shutting out the noise, of quieting the chaos, even for a little while, well I think there is no higher praise available. A highlight of the record was the cover of 'Satisfaction.' Being a huge Stones Guy I wasn't expecting to enjoy this cover as much as I did. I thought I would have to 'endure it' or, perhaps, to 'suffer through it' (there are some questionable 'Satisfaction' covers out there). Now, is it as good as the original? I wouldn't like to comment on that...but I will say, it is GOOD. Great even. All told, I thoroughly enjoyed this album and plan on revisiting it again and again. Perhaps on rainy nights, when I feel a type of longing I can't quite identify. On nights like that, perhaps Otis can show me the way.

There was a time when I considered myself a connoisseur of rap, especially 90s rap. How wrong I was. Sure, "The Low End Theory" has been on my radar for a long time (an embarrassingly long time), but I've never actually put the time aside to listen. This was a mistake. The rhymes (e.g. "Bust a nut inside your eye/to show you where I come from"), the beats, the humour, the wordplay, the attitude. Everything a rap album should be.

This is what the 60s sounded like. No one can convince me otherwise. I've listened to this album a few times and yet I found myself surprised by how funky it is. I listened to this on my commute home from work, and it made the traffic all the more bearable.

Once a year I sit down and try to "understand" Bowie, on a sonic and (perhaps) intellectual level. Each year, I am defeated. This year, maybe I got a step closer. Maybe.

I listened to this album on the return journey from Costco with a trunk full of meats and the backseats were occupied with 7 20L bags of cat litter. What does this have to do with Iggy Pop and "Lust For Life"? Not much, probably. A fantastic album though.

"I don't like it," said my aunt of "With The Beatles". She was 8 when this album was released. We had just euthanised one of her beloved cats. I, however, liked it. I wouldn't put it near the top of the greatest albums pyramid; (confession: it probably wouldn't make the cut for a place on the pyramid.) that said, it was 33 minutes well spent.

It's not often I'm left scratching my head asking "Who is this for, exactly?", but that is exactly what happened by the time I'd reached track three of "The Sensual World." If you told me that the people of East Berlin tore the Berlin Wall down to get away from a Soviet-attendance-mandated Kate Bush concert in 1989 I would believe you, no questions. "This Woman's Work" is the only tolerable song on this album. It has been put to good use in charity appeal commercials over the years.

Stellar live record. Not a single complaint from this guy.

A good album to listen to whilst cleaning out the storeroom at work. Bad music for making love. Good music for running, power walking and preparing to punch your most privileged friend in the face. Bad music for driving (my £100 speeding ticket will confirm). Good or bad in and of itself? Somewhere in between.

Two tracks in to "Myths of The Near Future" I suddenly found myself transported to a Glasgow HMV in 2007. It's spring, the days are longer, the birds are singing and I'm 17 again. The shelves in front of me are full of the newest releases from carbon-copy, indistinguishable British indie bands. In fact, one of them is playing through the store's sound system. It could be Klaxons. Fear sets in. What if I'm stuck? What if I have to live through the 2000s indie boom again?? "Get me out of here," I scream. "The music is terrible and I've never known the touch of a woman! GET ME OUT OF HERE!! I DON'T WANT TO BE BACK HERE!" ... It's track 4 and I'm back in the year 2025, blessed is God. This wasn't good in 2007, it isn't good now.

I made it half way through the first track and then felt an overwhelming urge to read a book.

I was pleasantly surprised by this album. Sure, people say it's "dad rock" derogatorily, and they're probably (definitely) right. But so what. It slaps.

Let me tell you, listening to "Insight" in an aquarium, watching a thousand jellyfish cycle through the water as the lights changed and they took on different colours was transcendental. When it feels like there's not enough equilibrium in the world, maybe there is. What I mean is, this is perfect theme park music for me. Don't ask me why. I can't explain it.

I really would hate to be one of those "remember-when-Hip-Hop-used-to-be-Hip-Hop" guys, but I fear that's what I thought when listening to Common's "Be." Everything about this album just felt right. This is how Hip-Hop should sound. Maybe it's because I was a teenager when this album was released, so I perhaps I have some nostalgia holdover for Hip-Hop from that period. But, if I'm being honest, this was how I felt. Unapologetically.

Starts incredibly strong with "Running Up That Hill" but then immediately runs right off a cliff. Still, better than the last Kate Bush album I had to suffer through.

This is the second Steely Dan album I've listened to in the last two weeks and I have to admit that I'm coming around. I was familiar with several songs on this album "Reeling in The Years", "Dirty Work" (shout out Tony Soprano) and "Do it Again." These are, still, the stand out tracks on this album. But every other song is solid. I am becoming a Steely Dan disciple. Perhaps it happens to us all, with enough time and exposure.

What do you get if you take an aura-less Cure and add an astonishing amount of horns? This musical abattoir.

The Beach Boys have been accused (by me) of recording the same song dozens of times. I stand by this accusation. However, I readily admit that I haven't ventured into the Beach Boys discography beyond Pet Sounds. This, I'm starting to think, was a mistake. This album showed me that giving the Beach Boys another chance might not be the worst idea in the world.

For me, Neil Young - like the later Bob Dylan - writes songs that deserve a better voice. Don't get me wrong, the album is superb; but occasionally the vocals grate. With apologies to Bob and Neil, of course.

I went deep into Blues music five or six years ago, so I'm surprised this didn't cross my radar sooner. I'm naturally a little sceptical of albums with a lot of features and while I remain sceptical the Bonnie Raitt and Charlie Musselwhite features were solid. The last three (solo) tracks on the album were, for me, standouts. Overall, an enjoyable but not life changing listen.

I remember being introduced to Sigur Rós in a dingy terraced house in Wrexham, North Wales sixteen years ago by an American Mormon Missionary with cast iron hair and a truly gruesome case of acne. He was a weird guy, and at nineteen I lumped his love of Sigur Rós in with his all the rest of his other 'weird guy' traits and habits. (I was more of a Rolling Stones guy). So, once he'd moved on I never gave that weird Icelandic music another thought. Until yesterday. This is a quintessential 'headphone record.' Initially I tried listening to 'Ágætis Byrjun' on car speakers and something about the experience just...didn't land. Maybe there was some residual Wrexham resistance, maybe nineteen year old me was still howling "WHAT IS THIS SHIT??" from the void. However, I tried again. Once I'd put on some noise cancelling headphones and hit play we were off and cooking. Good music has the ability to take you to places. GREAT music stops time. This album does both. It's etherial, otherworldly and absolutely gorgeous. I'm not sure entirely sure whether it was made in Iceland (as is claimed) or on Jupiter. Frankly, I don't care. I don't know what any of it means, but I know that I FELT it. I guess I owe that strange American an apology.

I'm glad that my knowledge of Count Bassie has now expanded beyond obscure jokes from early seasons of the Simpsons. I'm a big Jazz lover, but I've never really dipped my toe in the Big Band water. The music is delightful and the album cover is absolutely monstrous in the best way.

I really wanted to love this album. I really did. But, it didn't speak to me in the way I hoped it would. I was left feeling underwhelmed and wanting. I asked myself why? Was it the songwriting? No, it was excellent. The singing? No, it was solid. Was there too much harmonica? Maybe, but I'm a big harmonica guy. So why didn't I love it? I have no idea. I decided to give it another chance. We're not there yet...but we're getting closer. I wonder if this album is like that person we all know, the one you didn't hit it off with right away but who, over time, you've come to cherish and love deeply. Time will tell.

When this appeared on my landing page I can't lie, my first thought was "here we go..." I was wrong. This was excellent. I recognised most tracks - I realise this album has been sampled to death. A genuine surprise.

Some music captivates you; some music holds you captive. My rating will let you know what this album did to me. Also, was it mandatory to sing like *that* in the 80s?

Before today I was unfamiliar with Elliott Smith's music. Sure, I was vaguely familiar with the name, in the same way that one might be vaguely familiar with the name(s) Copernicus, or Magellan. That is to say, one might recognise the name and understand that the person bearing the name did something that was, to some degree, important or memorable. Paradoxically this album seems neither important or memorable. It is bland in a blandly bland sort of way. It was inoffensive and I didn't want to perforate my own eardrums at any point. The most memorable thing about Elliott Smith might be his "suicide" - allegedly stabbing himself in the chest. So THAT'S how I knew the name. 3 stars. I didn't hate it.

I mean, it's just one of the best ever, right? John Lennon at his rawest, angriest and most vulnerable best. Plus, there's only a couple of Yoko references. What's not to love?

I'm in two minds about this album. On the one hand, I see its merits and appreciate that it's an important record. On the other, I think it's just not for me. As I listened, I could appreciate it - to an extent, maybe academically - but I kept coming back to thinking that that it felt one note. There are those who love this record, but for me I don't anticipate a follow up listen any time soon.

Perhaps I was too hasty to dismiss Neil Young in an earlier review. This was sublime.

I really didn't get much from this album. It felt generic in a bad way. I know the Yardbirds are important, the whole Page-Clapton-Beck thing, but sometimes blues rock can just be dull. I'm sure lots of people out there will dig/do dig this one. It felts about eleven tracks too long

I was surprised to discover that having the same song play 15 times on an album can be pretty good. I suppose it's a spectrum though. When Mumford and Sons do it, it's bad. When Depeche Mode do it, it's...fine(ish)(?)

Did not vibe. More dated than net curtains and paisley print wallpaper.

Magical. Everything I hope for in a Jazz record. Just Jarrett, the piano, and magic.

Imagine: you've invited some friends over. Oh no! You need some music to throw it on in the background. What should you put on? Music is so polarising, so personal. You're starting to worry. What do you do? Well, I'm here to help. Might I suggest "The Good, The Bad and The Queen" by The Good, The Bad and The Queen. Why? Well, no one will ask you turn it off - but no one will ask you what it is, either. I didn't hate this. I expected too. I'm not an Albarn fan - I can't stand Blur or Gorillaz and in general I'm sceptical of supergroups. However this album was...fine? It wasn't great, it wasn't terrible, it wasn't good, it wasn't bad it was just sort of...on in the background of my day. Very forgettable, but not in a negative way. 2.25/5

It's Miles, what more needs to be said?

This album dropped when I was 14 (this was a painful sentence to write) and I was immediately obsessed. It was (is?) one of the seminal albums of my youth. Kanye West was a breath of fresh air at a time when hardcore Gangsta Rap was dominant. As a white kid attending boarding school, I couldn't relate to 50's bacchanal of violence, drugs and more violence. But, I could relate to the themes that Kanye West tackles on 'The College Dropout.' Religion (I was raised with a complicated religious background), family (I had a complicated family) and self-consciousness (I was - and still am - a deeply self-conscious child). It holds up, 21 years later. It is, if anything, even better than it was 21 years ago. It sounds, to me, how Hip-Hop SOUNDS and it's one of the greatest albums of all-time. In general I believe that the art can be separated from the artist - this is easy to say as a theoretical exercise. But, I think it holds. As a music fan, I love this album and always will. As a music fan I respect Kanye's early genius. As a Jew...well, that's a more complicated conversation. Nevertheless, this is an easy 5 stars, always.

It's been a while since I've listened to this album. I used to really enjoy Ryan Adams and this album, for me, was one I would return too. But, like I said, it's been a while since I've listened to it. And this time it was just...boring seems too strong a word. One note, maybe? It has some good songs, I admit...but they stack the first half of the record. Then it all gets a bit mopey-samesey. Maybe I'm simply not in the same place that I was as a mopey 17 year old, so the music doesn't connect as deeply or effectively as it once did. Either way, it'll probably be some time before I listen to this record again.

I've previously said that I love albums that make me feel deeply and/or that take me places. Well, this album does both. It's epic, transcendent, vast and truly gorgeous. Now, half the time that I was listening I don't think I really knew what was going on - but that doesn't matter. Everything I said still holds. There is beauty in confusion.

A solid album from a music legend. It's not Petty's best work, but it benefits from the presence of two all time Petty tracks, "American Girl" and "Breakdown." The rest of the album is quite forgettable. Petty would go on to better things.

What happens when a band like Journey becomes obsessed with Tolkien, Frank Herbert or maybe Dungeons and Dragons (perhaps all three)? Prog Rock, I guess. Look, I'm sure there's a big market for this - if I were capable of visualising I could easily picture what that market looks like - but I just don't belong to it. Some say the music is 'virtuosic' but that strikes me as a synonym for 'fast.' I can't play guitar, I don't know what goes into playing the guitar reeeeeeeally fast. Being fast might be a facet of virtuosity, but if that were the case millions of teenage boys the world over would claim that they are virtuosos in the bedroom because they...well, you can finish the joke on your own, I'm sure. Others have said that the music is philosophical, or that it is inspired by philosophy. Well, I have three degrees in philosophy (not a brag, it was not a good idea and is not especially impressive) and I can say with some authority that there was nothing notably philosophical on this record. This claim might be about Prog Rock more broadly...but, I'm doubtful. Philosophers can be classical pianists, competent strummers, passable violinists or cellists or - at a push - some sort of Jazz musician (but probably not a very good one). All of this is to say that this record was...just not for me. It wasn't painful to listen to, but I did keep looking at the time stamp to see how much longer I had to endure. But, it did occasionally have me tapping my foot, so I suppose that's something at least.

'God said to to Abraham "Kill me a son", Abe said "Man, you must be puttin' me on", God say "NO", Abe say "What?"...' etc, etc, etc. This exchange, at the start of the record's title track does, I think, perfect encapsulate the lyrical content of this album. The entire album is composed of vignettes and non-sequiturs, each telling tiny stories that go nowhere and yet go everywhere over propulsive, blues-based instrumentation. It's poetry and nonsense. Bob Dylan never sounded better. This album is a landmark, an icon and will rightly be remembered forever. Long after Dylan is gone, 'Highway 61 Revisited' will live on. This is one of those records that changed music, changed lives and (if I'm permitted a drop of hyperbole) changed the world. The album is composed of six rocking, rollicking tracks and is bookended by two iconic folk-infused masterpieces. Everyone knows "Like a Rolling Stone" but too few people know 'Desolation Row.' My favourite Dylan song of all time is 'Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts' and I think that that song simply doesn't exist without 'Desolation Row.' I listened to this record twice. On my first listen I fell asleep. This is not a criticism. I found the experience so enjoyable and soothing that I nodded off and woke up near the end of 'Desolation Row' feeling surprisingly refreshed. My second listen then confirmed what my first listen suggested - that 'Highway 61 Revisited' is one of Dylan's ultimate masterpieces. Now, I just need to actually pick it up on vinyl. It is a record that should be owned, not just streamed.

When I was fifteen I started noticing something; everywhere I looked I saw kids my age, older and slightly younger kids wearing the same black hooded sweatshirts. A yellow smiley face with X's for eyes and a squiggly smile was printed on the front of these sweatshirts below the word 'NIRVANA', printed in block capitals, also in yellow. The kids wearing these hoodies didn't look like Buddhists. My next door neighbour Ryan started wearing one too, so one day, in his family kitchen I asked him: 'What does the 'Nirvana' on your emotional support hoodie mean?' Well, he looked at me like he'd walked in on me wok-frying his mother's face with assorted vegetables. 'Nirvana...' he said, with more than a hint of disgust in his register, as though it was obvious and one word would resolve the mystery. 'Nirvana...? 'Nirvana' what? What is Nirvana?' I looked at him blankly. He sighed, turned to walk away and said 'The BAND!' Feeling somewhat humiliated I skulked home, loaded up the computer and searched 'Nirvana.' That afternoon, in my neighbour's kitchen, was 20 years ago. On that rainy, mild afternoon I became aware of the Cult of Nirvana. 'Nevermind' is easily one of the best albums of the 90's. But, as with so many pop culture juggernauts, the brilliance of the work is overshadowed by the people who wear the merch and look at you like you've murdered and cannibalised their mother when you indicate that you don't know the work or the artist. At 15 I was put off by the fact that one needed to be SEEN to be a Nirvana fan to actually BE a Nirvana fan. The gatekeeping, the othering...all of it...was enough to put me off. The music was brilliant, but the fans insufferable (I wonder if we can think of some recent artists whose work falls into this trap.) Luckily, we seem to have moved on from this. Everyone knows Nirvana, everyone knows Kurt Cobain and everyone (sadly?) knows Dave Grohl. No one really knows Krist Novoselek - but I think that's how he wants it. My question is this: Are Nirvana still the band of record for today's angst-ridden teens? I don't think they are. There is too much music out there now, and too much access to it. Nirvana has become classic rock. Maybe they're now even considered 'Dad Rock'. This, I think, is a good thing. People have opined (and will continue to opine) on what Kurt Cobain would think of all this and, to be honest, who gives a fuck? Kurt Cobain is dead, but the work lives on. Nevermind was manufactured in a lab to be the perfect rock album for the time. It worked. You can feel the reverberations almost 35 years later. Very few reviews of Nirvana focus purely on the music (including this one) because of the Cobain mythos and because people are drawn to a tortured artist - it adds 'depth.' Depth is the musical equivalent of salt and pepper as seasoning. All art has 'depth.' It's what separates art from what I do in my kitchen with a glockenspiel. 'Nevermind' is an album of its time that stands the test of time. Ever felt sad? Alienated? Alone? Listen to 'Nevermind' - you'll feel less alone, but possibly sadder and more alienated. Life is about tradeoffs. It's still great music. Is it the greatest? Not for me. But I will rarely skip a track from 'Nevermind.' That, I think, has to stand for something. What it stands for I don't know.

Surprisingly enjoyable. It's not going to warp reality, but it was a fun listen.

Didn't think I'd ever say this, but the flute went surprisingly hard on this record. I wanted to hate it, but I couldn't bring myself to. I didn't love it, I couldn't bring myself to.

I know, I know, I know. It's important. It's a cultural artefact. It's iconic. It's RAGE. But it's also repetitive (God, is it repetitive), bland and, surprisingly, all surface.

Detroit sucks. I'm sorry to the people of Detroit, but it's true. Detroit SUCKS. Kid Rock, stratospheric crime rates, urban decay, economic stagnation, the Lions...Oh, to be so close to Canada (which also sucks, but less than Detroit) and yet so far away. Can you imagine. For such a terrible place to produce such fantastic music is...well, surely some kind of cosmic sign. The White Stripes belonged to a long lineage of acts from Detroit. Let's not give Detroit too much credit...I don't want mention Kid Rock again, but I'll do it, so help me God, I'll do it. This album is TIGHT. Clocking in at 40 minutes, there is no fat, only lean, muscular guitar rock. They lyrics sound like they were ad-libbed in the studio - in a good way. If Jack White went in unprepared and just started freestyling off the top of the old noodle and just threw some shit together, it wouldn't surprise me. And yet, it works. A guitar, a drum kit and two oddballs just making music. Fantastic. Music to bring the snobs and the philistines together. Actually, I take it back. I rescind my apology to the people of Detroit. Your city sucks. Be grateful that you have good music.

Solid, solid, solid.

People talk about the monster playing of Eddie Van Halen but I'm here to talk about David Lee Roth. The Plant to Van Halen's Page, minus the Tolkien references. That screeching wail, the drawn out vowels. What a vocalist. Everyone is here for Eddie Van. Not me. I'm here for David Lee. If this record was longer than 35 minutes it might start feeling like a drag. But, it doesn't. It's tight, tight, tight. I always skip "Eruption." I'm not ashamed to admit it.

If Rock'n'Roll is a stew then this record (and every other record like it) is the potatoes...or the carrots. Yes, let's go with the carrots. Which is to say that while the stew might not be the same without the carrots...at the end of the day, it's just carrots, y'know? What I'm saying is I haven't heard this album before and yet, I've heard this album before, dozens of times. It wasn't unpleasant - it was just carrots.

Smooooooooth, baby.

I read once that "the Eagles wanted to be cowboys, but not the kind who ride horses" and that, I think, is the truest sentence anyone ever wrote about the Eagles. There's some great songs here, but the record does suffer from a lack of ambition. As a Scottish person I was unable to listen to "Chug All Night", because of the masturbatory implications.

This reminded me of a long road that leads nowhere. Sure, occasionally there's one or two pretty vistas to admire, but you inevitably end up resenting the journey you're on.

And suddenly, as if from nowhere, I found that I was, in fact, a Steely Dan man. A convert. Soon, an evangelist.

"Nightswimming" and "New Orleans Instrumental No. 1" are some of the most beautiful songs of the 90s. I will die on that hill. This album had one to two duds, but that doesn't diminish the quality of the rest of the album.

Historically I've been down on the so-called 'Alternative/Indie' boom of the mid-late 2000s. The music of the period sounds, to me, like a soulless jumble; bands replete with singers who looked the same and sounded the same, guitarists who played the same shoddy riffs; songs that covered the same ground and pushed exactly zero envelopes. The entire period affected an air of effortlessness and superiority - only it wasn't effortless at all, in fact the desire to appear effortless was tragic along Titanic lines. I came into 'Oracular Spectacular' with the same critical apparatus in place. I expected to hate this record; I expected be filled with a desire to time travel to 2008 and do ghastly things to the band. To my surprise, the critical apparatus disintegrated and I found myself getting more than a little verklempt. This was an incredible listening experience. The whole record is effortlessly anthemic, cosmic, etherial...and yet completely grounded. This is, for me, the apex of its genre. In a sea of bands with the emotional range of an electric toothbrush head MGMT rises from the depth and proves that there is something there, below the surface, below the ripples and the bubbles and the affect and the costume and the same dead eyes and blank faces and haircuts...there might just be something more. This is a heavy rotation record.

I can see the merit in this record. The melodies are tight, the guitar's are aggressive and the lyrics are charged, intense, urgent: and yet... I found myself wanting to like it. Wanting to love it, in fact. But I just couldn't. I was glad to reach track 12, 'Rockstar.' I'm giving this record a begrudging three, because two feels low. Three feels high, but it's where I've landed. Actually, no. I'm giving it two.

In light of recent events I cannot give this album less than 5 stars. Even if recent events hadn't happened, I'd still give it 5 stars. Truly epic.

The first few tracks were pretty enjoyable but then the tracks became indistinguishable from one another and I sort of lost interest. It was pleasant to listen to, but it was eventually just on in the background.

When my wife came home last week and announced "I'm going to be a dungeon master!" a chill ran down my spine. "Perhaps I should have seen this coming," I thought. She had recently been talking about "alternate revenue streams" and I (it seemed naively in that moment) had assumed she meant something like couples crafting or selling items on eBay. I could never have imagined that she was thinking of dipping not only her toe, but her whole self into the murky world of BDSM. "Well, I suppose we could convert one of the rooms in the house..." I said. "But, of course we don't have a basement, so it won't be a real dungeon." She looked at me blankly. "What are you talking about?" she said. "A place for the apparatuses!" "What apparatuses?" "The ones for your clients! You think they'll just want to be spanked here on the couch in front of the cats? A dominatrix dungeon mistress will need a dungeon, for Christs sake! It'll be an investment, but I imagine the returns will offset the expense within the first quarter of operation..." She turned and left. Turns out she was talking about running a game of the collective-imagination RPG "Dungeons and Dragons." I'd have preferred the dominatrix angle. What does this have to do with "The World is a Ghetto" by War? More than you could ever imagine, as it happens. Her group are coming over tomorrow and this might be the perfect distraction music. They'll be about to kill a goblin and then suddenly ask "Wow, is it just me or has this song gone on for fucking ever?!" "It has!" I'll reply, "and so has your game!" Ideally they'll leave. I'll return and report the results. As for the album itself, it's maybe the funkiest thing I've ever listened to in one whole sitting. It does go slightly longer than necessary (especially "City, Country, City", "Four Cornered Room" and "The World is a Ghetto"). This does detract significantly from the funk.

I'm morally opposed to this.

Meh. "Celebrity Skin" is a great song but the rest of the album is a bit of a dud.

Well, it's better than UB40...

I feel like I've heard this album done better. Some good songs, but quite a lot of filler.

Meh.

Once a year I sit down and try to understand Hendrix. This wasn't my year. But I'm getting closer. Every year I get closer and closer.

If your father has a British bulldog tattooed on his bicep and owns/has owned a Staffordshire Bull Terrier then you can bet that he fucking loves The Who. What is a Mod anyway? I don't know and I don't care; what I do know is that this is pub rock for perverts (I'm looking at you, Pete Townsend). I read once that Pete Townsend had to ask Roger Daltrey to stop beating him up after shows. Daltrey shouldn't have listened. Look, I liked The Who when I was a kid and didn't really know better. The problem is that there were so many superior bands in the 60s doing the same music, but better. The only decent track on this record is "The Kids are Alright" and that's only because a fairly decent movie borrowed it for its title. Anyway, today is a new day.

One of my favourite records ever. Just brilliant from start to finish.

Brutal, just brutally bad. I don't get the hype. I never will.

I briefly surveyed the reviewers of the album while listening and it's interesting to me that one way to feign being an intelligent music listener is to denigrate country music. "Look over yonder porch; that fellow playing the banjo is married to his sister and he's fucking his cousin." How witty, how droll. Is this album for me? Well, not all of it. "The Christian Life" made me want to burn down a monastery. But there is a lot to love here. You could claim it's cliche, derivative, twanging crap...etc, etc, etc, but you'd be wrong to do so. Set aside your prejudice and your scintillating wit and listen beyond the twang and the fiddle. You'll be rewarded.

A little heavy on the horn, but in general some good, bombastic jazz. I don't know that I'll return, but I enjoyed the journey.

An extra star for the Beefheart feature.

Some rappers say a lot by saying a little; others say little but talk a lot. Mike Ladd is the later kind of rapper. He's a man with a microphone and the space to express every thought he's ever had. I like experimentation, but I also gravitate towards coherence. This album, to me, lacks it (coherence) and that devitalises the experimentation.

A bit yodel-country for me, but clearly an important work. 3 stars for influence and longevity.

I liked this one. Although, I must admit I found it a little disorienting. "We Sing Hallelujah" sounds like a medieval folk song being sung at a hog roast and then "Has He Got a Friend For Me" starts with a reference to a silent Saturday night doorbell. It felt like involuntary time travelling. That aside, enjoyable if a little samsey.

Heroin music, but not the good kind.

This was okay, but I found myself drifting in and out of focus and the music just sort of faded into the background for most of the record.

I just don't like the Sex Pistols. There. I said it.

If you've ever wondered what it would sound like if Kate Bush had warbled over hip/hop beats, it's this. This is not a compliment.

Odd, but the kind of odd I dig.

I remember when 'Grounds For Divorce' came out. The messaging around that single, and this album, seemed to be "HEY! Look! These old guys are doing it! They're breaking through, these old guys! Isn't that amazing?!" I remember thinking that it WAS amazing. Now I'm older than the guys in Elbow were when this album came out. Life is a series of small disasters and tragedies in miniature. This album is great. It's melodic, insightful, deep and (most importantly) honest. I don't know what I mean by that, and yet I know exactly what I mean. Some reviews have pointed (disparagingly) to similarities with Coldplay and Radiohead. I see it. But, I think this record is reminiscent of the best of Coldplay and Radiohead. It takes the good and leaves aside the masturbatory side of Radiohead and the tendency that Chris Martin has to be a complete shill post Viva La Vida. Anyway. This album is fantastic.

R.E.M. grow on me more and more with every album I listen to.

I mean sure, it is the same song over and over (and over and over), but it did - annoyingly - make me tap my feet and nod my head.. I didn't hate it.

I couldn't do it. It was just too much for me.

Pretty, pretty, pretty good. Pretty good.

It's not often that you listen to an album and actually hear the influence that it had on later artists. But this is one of those albums. It's almost Promethian; Lucia as Prometheus handing the spark down to lesser beings. It's laconic, twangy goodness.

Say what you will about Michael Jackson, but one thing is clear: there were two helpings of talent bestowed upon the Jackson family. Michael got one whole helping plus a half and his siblings shared the other half helping. Listening to Janet feels like listening to a Michael impersonator that bluffed their way into a recording contract only to find themselves in a studio with Jellybean Johnson but without a clue about what to do next. On the whole, it's too disjointed and erratic. Some see things as a plus, but it's just not for me.

I just didn't get it. Too cosmic, too far out.

Cosmic, man.

Reminded me of (the best of) Ryan Adams and alt-country broadly construed. A good record.

Dire

"Skip Spence" sounds like the old-time money cost of something. The album itself was okay. It did drag a bit.

Good, but not excellent.

One of the all-time greats. Never skip.

In my opinion the best record that Pink Floyd put out. Solid from start to finish. The title track is one of the great rock songs. No complaints.

I mean come on, it's Monk.

Didn't understand a word but the vibes were pristine.

One of the finest albums by one of the greatest bands of all time (and, my personal favourite band).

Surprisingly good

Don't see the hype.

I'll never be tricked into liking Elvis.

Time and again I've found myself in conversations about music where someone describes some record as either (a) "one of the best records of all time," or, as (b) "the best record of all time." This is always a big claim; it's also invariably wrong. I had to find a way to point this out in a way that wasn't aggressive and/or cuntish. I needed a baseline. I needed a record that everyone agrees is great that could then be used as a yardstick for greatness. 'Rumours' is that yardstick. Example: Kevin: "I have to say it; 'The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill' is one of the best albums ever!' Me: "I don't think so." Kevin: "It definitely is." Me: "Is it better than 'Rumours'?" Kevin: "...no, probably not." Me: "Is 'Rumours' the best album ever?" Kevin: "...no..." Me: "But it's probably in the top 15, right?" Kevin: "Right!" Me: "So 'The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill isn't a top 15 album." This argument has served me well for the last five years. It'll serve me well forever.

Perhaps controversially this is not Lou's best, for me. That said, it's still great.

Not a Costello hyper