Very 90's, not too much to write home about. If you like screechy vocals and a garage sound maybe. For me life's too short.

Middle of the road bar music

I discovered I have 2 copies of this CD in my collection. I guess that might indicate I like it or I suffer from Alzheimers. I think I should get tested.

I'd spin this again, however I am not sure what mood this album is for, Lads weekend?

Do you have the time to listen to me whine....no, derivative and tedious.

Shame about the recording quality, the artistry is stunning, given the circumstances of this concert its a truely amazing piece

I didn’t expect much but was occasionally delighted. Loved Intervention. Definitely earned a 2nd listen. The mix production seemed uneven in parts.

Not what I expected, after decades of about hearing how edgy this is, its kinda pedestrian.

The 1st 2 tracks really turned me off, much rawer than Nevermind. Then it settled down and I really enjoyed the rest of the Album

Kinda what I would expect...its ok, will I put it on again...unlikely.

Cool dinner party music

Love this, so smooth and calm.

Really enjoyed this.

If I wanted to listen to a Rap album, this wouldn't be it. Its not awful (mostly) but it's Kid Rock and that carries a fair bit of baggage. Its not entirely obnoxious.

Wow this was recommended on the day Brian Wilson died. Its a more mature sounding band, but it also seems thinner, the harmonies are not quite right. Still a great listen

Its the Beatles, its brilliant, Its probably the beginning of their zenith. There is nothing I can add that hasn't already been said.

Very much of its time, but if you want to test a subwoofer this is for you

Listenable, a couple of highlights, but not greatest album of all time material

Strangle listening to this in 25, so familiar but really synthetic.

Mediocre, bland and uninspiring.

I enjoyed this, its quite tame but I imagine it was a bit radical in the day.

I really enjoyed this and look forward to a relisten and a deep dive into the rest of their catalogue.

Very 90's, not too much to write home about. If you like screechy vocals and a garage sound maybe. For me life's too short.

There is absolutely nothing to recommend about this, the lyrics are awful, the music (I can barely use that word in this context) is monotonous. Its just obnoxious attitude. Fuck this release.

I was surprised by this, quite enjoyed it.

Great album start to finish.

Definitely one of the greatest albums.

Middle of the road bar music

I quite liked this, guess I have to go to barista school now.

Awful noise.

A delightful listen.

Great album, such an easy listen. Lyrics are unintelligible so its distracting free.

I didn't like it then, still not a fan. Hair metal was kinda so-so and hasn't really aged that well. It's the kind of music that needs to be in movies set in the 80's as someone skates down a street clearly late for something.

This ablum blem me away when I was 25. It still does the same at 59.

I have come to the conclusion the inclusion of some albums in this list is purely to make others shine.

This is my 2nd Cocteau Twins albums discovered through 1001, like the other I really enjoyed this and will be adding them to my regular rotations

Maybe could be on low in the background. I see the talent, but the recording is nearly 70 years old and it shows. Glad to have listened to it once. I found no thrills here.

I remember buying the CD when it came out because the reviewers raved. Never listed more than a couple of times, this relisten reminds me why, its...ok but its hip-hop. It gets better when it moves away from the hip-hop formula but not enough to warrant regular replays imho.

Not the best Neil Young has made, but definitely worth hearing.

I figure I could ask Suno for angsty late nineties brit-pop and the AI would spit this out. Reading the entry in 1001, I get the sense the reviewer was more fascinated in the bands journey than its music. I guess the journey was more interesting.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5 out of 5, obviously) If Joy Division and a Philosophy 101 dropout had a lovechild, and that child grew up chain-smoking in a Brixton bedsit, it would be Soul Mining. Matt Johnson's voice? Molasses poured over broken glass. The lyrics? Drenched in romantic despair, political nihilism, and just enough hope to keep you from lighting the curtains on fire. This was Thatcher’s Britain: unemployment, class tension, no milk left in the fridge. And here's Matt Johnson writing art-pop that’s intelligent, aching, and deeply personal. It doesn’t whine. It aches. And somehow makes you dance while doing it. I bought it on vinyl and cassette in the 80's, CD in the 90's and it still features on my regular playlists on Tidal. Absolute Classic.

This is the quintessential Bob Dylan that lives in my brain, I expected it to be fairly inaccessible. 60 years span from the recording to my 1st listen, I must say its a pretty impressive work. I cannot imagine wanting to play this regularly, but I may revisit it again.

I discovered I have 2 copies of this CD in my collection. I guess that might indicate I like it or I suffer from Alzheimers. I think I should get tested.

So this was allocated to me on the day that Ozzy passed. Never given Black Sabbath much of a listen in the past. Not sure what I expected, but this isn't it. It was really bluesy and engaging. I see what the fuss is about now. Will listen again.

It kinda reminded me of the generic music you hear in a supermarket. Its not offensive, but not very interesting.

It reminds me of those buskers with too many reverb pedals.

It was pleasant.

Its a slightly uneven album, but when it hits, it hits hard. Papa was a Rollin' Stone was worth the price of entry alone.

Pretty generic classical rock album. Nothing outstanding here.

Brilliant album.

Okay, confession time: I was the disco skeptic in the corner, arms crossed, silently judging those mirror balls. Then Sister Sledge’s We Are Family was allocated and wow, suddenly I’m twirling around the lounge in fuzzy socks. It’s like getting unexpectedly invited into the warmest, coziest doona fort you never knew you needed. “We Are Family” feels like a cheeky pep talk from your besties, “Lost in Music” is the perfect soundtrack for living room boogie, and “He’s the Greatest Dancer”… well, let’s just say I’m still trying to perfect those shimmy moves. I never thought disco could give me the same comfort as a hot chocolate and a marshmallow barrage, but here we are. Sister Sledge has made me a convert, if you’re ready to swap your snarky side-eye for some glittering joy, this album is your ticket. Trust me, once you dive in, you’ll be snuggled in that sonic doona all night long.

Frankly, Chore of Enchantment is tedious, dare I unoriginally say it's a chore. It shuffles along like a pale imitation of Lou Reed generated by an AI model, all muttered half-songs and desert ennui without the bite, wit, or danger that made Reed compelling. There’s one bright spot “Shiver” which briefly hints at the emotional resonance the album could have had. But one decent track can’t save an experience that mostly feels like listening to someone strum their way through a sandstorm of self-indulgence. By the time it’s over, you don’t feel enchanted you feel like you’ve just endured a very long sigh set to music.

Morrison Hotel feels like slipping into your favourite worn leather jacket, instantly comfortable, a little rough around the edges, but impossible not to love. Kicking off with “Roadhouse Blues,” that familiar guitar riff hits like a friendly nudge “Hey, remember me?”...and suddenly you’re tapping your foot, winking at the speakers, ready for whatever comes next. That opening track alone sets the mood for a night spent with good company and your substance of choice. What I adore here is how The Doors lean hard into the blues without ever feeling like they’re trying too hard. It’s not perfect, there are moments where the groove meanders, and a couple of songs feel like padding, but you forgive it, because that raw vibe is exactly why you came. Morrison Hotel delivers a lush, bluesy roll that feels both familiar and fresh. I’m giving it 4 out of 5 stars.

I’ll admit, when everyone was losing their minds over devilish mascots and galloping guitar riffs back in ’82, I just didn’t see the appeal, and revisiting it now hasn’t changed my mind. The opening track stomps in like a blaring alarm clock, but instead of waking me up, it just makes me wonder why anyone thought “digital clock in Hell” was a clever metaphor. Vocals swing between operatic high notes and growly shouts, but to me it just sounds like someone warmed up their throat and swept the entire keyboard for every note. Guitar solos are everywhere...seriously, they duel so much I half expected a referee to show up, but they feel less like melodic storytelling and more like two dudes racing to hit the fastest scale. The rhythm section pounds along faithfully, but it’s like watching someone do bicep curls without ever flexing; technically impressive, sure, but zero flair or surprise. Look, I get this album is “legendary” in heavy-metal circles. For me, it’s like being handed a cup of black coffee when I asked for a latte, technically coherent but missing everything I find enjoyable. So yeah, one star. If you’re into epic guitar gymnastics and medieval horror vibes, more power to you, just don’t expect me to join the fan club anytime soon.

If you wanted to simulate the experience of waiting in a long endless queue, this album would be that. My brain screamed for some stimulation, it couldn't take the monotonous drone of this same same album for another minute. If this was innovative in any way I can't see it, its an evolutionary dead end imho. Hard Pass.

As a Bowie fan, I’m embarrassed it’s taken me this long to actually listen to Low in full. I came in with partial familiarity thanks to Philip Glass’s Low Symphony, which I’ve loved for years, so I knew the melodies in a very different, orchestral form. But hearing Bowie’s original was a surprise in the best way. This isn’t the glam swagger of Ziggy Stardust or the soul of Young Americans. It’s chilled, atmospheric, and oddly weightless, more like a Brian Eno album that just happens to have Bowie singing on a few tracks. The instrumentals on the 2nd half in particular feel like you’re drifting through some strange, beautiful space station in the late ’70s. For an artist so associated with reinvention, Low still manages to feel unexpected. It’s understated but hypnotic, with a mood that lingers long after it ends. A strange, serene gem in Bowie’s catalog.

Coming to The Next Day straight after reviewing Low yesterday (2 Bowie in a row!) is like stepping out of a dream into a busy street, you can tell it’s still Bowie, but the scenery is louder, brasher, and less carefully lit. I went in primed to like it. After all, I’m a sucker for later Bowie. Reality still has a spot in my heart (and my ticket stub from that tour is still tucked away), and Blackstar remains my all-time favourite: haunting, layered, and impossible to shake. So you’d think the album sitting in between those two, Bowie’s “surprise” comeback after a decade in the shadows would have me grinning like a cat in a vintage waistcoat. And yet… The Next Day never quite catches fire. It’s distinctly Bowie, no one else could have made this album. The voice is as commanding as ever, the band is tight, and there’s a confidence to the arrangements. But instead of a cohesive world, we get a patchwork of moods and styles, as if he’d emptied out a decade’s worth of song ideas and pressed “shuffle.” Some of it works beautifully, some of it feels like it’s here just because it was finished. Two tracks leap out. The title track, “The Next Day,” is propulsive, snarling, and unapologetically alive, Bowie kicking down the door with that sly, dangerous energy only he had. “(You Will) Set the World on Fire” burns with swagger, a reminder he could still channel raw rock power when he wanted. Much of the rest, though, feels like fine wallpaper, crafted well enough, but not something I find myself drawn back to. There are no outright duds, but too few moments demand revisiting. Coming from an artist whose albums often pull you in for years of decoding, it’s odd to feel like I’ve “got it” after a couple of listens. The Next Day isn’t a bad album, it’s a solid, sometimes thrilling late-career release. But compared to the creative focus of Reality and the fearless poetry of Blackstar, it feels like a scattered interlude. A fascinating chapter in the Bowie story, but not one I’ll reread often.

I can respect the history and influence here, but I think I’m officially too old for this kind of energy. The fuzzy, feedback-heavy wall of sound feels less like rebellious noise and more like someone parked a lawnmower in my living room. There are flashes of cool, dissonant genius, but they get buried under chaos. After a while, it stops feeling edgy and starts feeling exhausting. If this is youthful anarchy, I’ll be over here drinking tea in peace.

Just not my genre

Bland and boring

Not much of a singer

Masturbatory guitar excess. My ears bleed.

Very chill. Could not understand any of the social commentary.

I have never heard the Grateful dead, I had heard a lot about them and had high (lol) expectations. As someone who has delved the depths of the Pink Floyd catalog and stared at the stars wile Jim Morrison took me on a trip, I was expecting something next level. What I got was so middle of the road I am shocked. I could imagine this being the band in the corner at some small country bar that drones on in the background.