I remember clearly when this record dropped. The first song I heard by this band was "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)," and I can still remember being lit up at the overwhelming energy of it, driving around in my car in LA with Indie 103.1 on the radio. It kinda reminded me of a rootsier PiL. There are only a few times in my life where my ears have pricked up quite like this. Upon hearing the whole thing, I was struck at the balance between lyrical and musical themes of twee, innocent adolescent energy and a sort of hardened, melancholy adult nostalgia evident in the record as a whole. The progression of the track listing is also masterfully considered. It reminds me of when albums were presented as a start-to-finish listening experience rather than to be parsed out and shuffled, which is significant given that this came out during the peak of the iPod era. What an absolutely stunning and epic debut. Extra points for titling your first big record "Funeral."

I DJed in an all industrial club from like 1995-1997, so I've heard "Guber Einer Nation" dozens and dozens of times at loud volumes*. I never spun it up myself, however. Back then I thought the music and vocal delivery on "Opus Dei" and every other track was all so silly—parodistic even. So, yeah, I didn't really care for Laibach then, and I still don't. What a hilarious undertaking for this group to make quasi-anti-fascist music that sounds so... fascist. What has changed, however, is that I have come to really appreciate and respect them as an art project and creative collective now, especially with offering NSK citizenship, doing weird cover versions, etc. That appreciation, nevertheless, does not inspire me to listen to their albums. Today, sure, it's fun in a sort of nostalgic way that takes me back to my early DJ days, but the distant past seems to be the time and place Laibach fits best. These days, I'm actively trying to escape all the fascist discourse in our daily lives; so I certainly am not trying to invite that aesthetic into the art I look at or listen to as well. Then again, perhaps we all need to get used to this. *I always heard the lyric "Gebt mir ein Leitbild" as "GIVE ME A LIGHT BEER" and it made me laugh every time. If anything, I'm grateful for this listening session to remind me of a dumb joke I hadn't remembered in decades.

Cocaine is so fucking annoying. Anyone who's ever been cornered at a party between the hours of 12 and 3AM by someone totally lit up on the stuff knows what I'm talking about. That said, this is the one exception I'll make. This record is arguably the best thing that 4 bandmates doing heart-stopping quantities of the devil's dandruff ever produced (... and Fleetwood Mac's Rumours is the absolute fucking worst). I said what I said. Tommi Iommi has always had such a penchant for writing riffs just soaked with foreboding heaviness. Imagine having the terrifying and dark reputation for making some of the most anti-establishment occult rock and roll ever recorded to date and then what? Oh, yeah, go and break everyone's hearts from out of nowhere by writing and recording the incredible "Changes." It's a tall order to make a 70s hesher cry into his 5th can of Strohs but they did it. The rhythm section showed up every damn day to WORK. Osbourne's vocal melodies are sometimes repetitive and follow the guitar rhythms rather than have their own cadence, but when he breaks out of it, some real genius phrasing emerges. Well played, boys. Nearly every song on this album is great, if not incredible. "Supernaut" sounds as fresh, energetic, and vital in 2025 as ever. I wish it didn't fade out though, ugh. I listen to Sabbath pretty regularly, but usually as single selected tracks within playlists. It's another thing entirely to immerse oneself in the record front to back and get taken for a ride the way the band intended it. I would have changed the track order and probably nixed "FX", myself, but it is what it is. I blame the cocaine for this record being almost, but not quite, perfect.

If I'm listening to college rock from the 80s, I'm listening to the Replacements and early Pulp. Otherwise, I feel like there was a rash of stuff like this pouring out the UK in the early and mid 80s that to me is just utterly forgettable. There are moments here that remind me of The Jazz Butcher, who I am also not too fond of. There's not one thing unpalatable nor annoying going on here, but I did feel anxious to just get it over with so I could move on to something a little more compelling. The whole thing just feels kinda soulless and unsalted. Perhaps the most interesting thing going on here might just be that he's British. I could have totally died without ever hearing this record. Oh, and speaking of dying if I'm listening to anything labeled "Sophisti-pop" it's coz I'm tied to a chair and being tortured and I need you to call the fucking cops.

Funkier than I expected. Would probably rate higher of it was more my taste.

These fellas have a lot of trouble in their relationships.

What a debut. A total vibe. Utterly transportative. The music is kinda secondary to the lyrical narrative and that is a-ok to me....(And it heavily influenced Andrew Eldritch's The Sisters of Mercy, so....)

I have had this record on vinyl since I was a kid. Almost every song on this record is a certified banger. It's one of the most 80s things to ever 80s, especially with that Patrick Nagel cover art. I remember vividly their View To A Kill theme song and when I saw Grace Jones seduce James Bond I experienced an overwhelming pre-adolescent sexual awakening. Then, when we were teenagers, my friend told me she lost her virginity to The Chauffeur. So, basically Duran Duran has been soundtracking boners since forever and I am here for it.

I was more into real British anarcho-punk like CRASS when I was a kid, so the Sex Pistols always seemed like they might as well been a pop band like the Bee Gees or Michael Jackson. More a packaged product and image: only in this case shock for shock's sake, rebellion for sale, fashion over form. I did listen to them a little, but never really sought them out. Nevertheless, as the years have progressed, I can't help but acknowledge the impact they had on practically everyone at the time. Some of my lifelong favorite bands formed after seeing the Pistols live, (Joy Division and Siouxsie immediately spring to mind). I'll give 'em that. This is actually the first time I've listened to this record in its entirety from start to finish, and I still know practically every single song on it. It is without-a-doubt a solid rock record, and yeah, it probably scared the shit out of the establishment rank and file when it first dropped. And that is kinda my problem with it. I imagine there was a lot of pearl-clutching over the Sex Pistols in the mainstream culture and in the press, but we all know that freaking out the normals is not very difficult, (especially back then). In fact, Malcom McLaren and Jamie King are as much a part of their aesthetic legacy as the band itself. So, there is nothing really authentically revolutionary about the music or lyrics to me. Their influence and impact is undeniable, but it also sounds kinda commercial, then and now. Victims of their own popularity, perhaps. And if I check in with my 15 y.o. self, this record still sounds significantly less dangerous, sincere, and genuine to me as Feeding of the 5000, which I had on repeat all the time back when.

Coldplay have a couple standout tracks, but otherwise 99% of their work sounds like background muzak piped into a Starbucks to me. Adult contemporary listening that you just kinda hear more than listen to. This is the first time I've heard this album in its entirety and my thoughts above remain the same. That said, when I was in college and they first hit, my gf at the time, M, had a soft spot for "Yellow" because it reminded her of her sister's new marriage. I remember she thought it was such a dumb song, but it hit her in the feels regardless because she loved her sister so. Because she was the first girl I ever loved, and due to her overwhelming interest in astronomy, I could not help but associate the track with M, myself. So I put the song on a mix for her, downloaded illegally from Napster and burned onto a CD-R, early 2000s-style. And now I'm forever among the ranks of dudes who put Coldplay on a mix for a girl he loves.

First-time listen. This is a good Sunday record, even though the songs all fade out way too soon. The psychedelic elements in this record are great, even though stuff from the 1970s that have sing-songy arrangements with lots of flutes typically give me hives. I'm surprised at how short the songs are given the style; I'd expect them to stretch out a little more. With each successive track, this record really grew on me. The Romani elements heard in the track Dos Cruces were particularly outstanding: sprawling with a great buildup. Gave me epic Brazilian flamenco gunslinger Morricone vibes (but again, cut too short with a unnecessary fade-out).

I typically ignore pop music almost completely coz I detest most of it, but I distinctly remember when this dropped. I recall giving it a shot and being impressed at how experimental and unique this album was as a whole statement and concept. It is anything but boring. It's not something I have spun up again since my first few listens in 2010, but revisiting now it reaffirms that it's a super well-crafted, creative, and considered album. Although it's not typically my preferred style or genre, it's notwithstanding impossible to ignore. Like I said, I mostly hate and consequently write off most pop music due to its banal sameness, but this is such a singular voice of overwhelming creativity, I gotta give Monáe big props for such a unique debut. And "Cold War" is still a fucking total banger, 15 years later; a sort of spiritual sibling to Outkast's "Bombs Over Baghdad". This is an example of a record that I cannot help but recognize has 5-star quality, even though it's not totally my thing.

Seldom has any band in the history of music been so prolific as The Cure, all the while swinging so wildly between mood and genre. Their preceding debut was an energetic post-punk pop record; but this definitive follow-up would determine a feel and a sound the three imaginary boys from Crawley would explore and be known for through much of the rest of their storied career. They have been one of my favorite bands since I was 12, a constant soundtrack to almost my entire life. (Totally not a goth, btw - ha). Seventeen Seconds contains within it such a compelling mood through its compositions and production, that as a listener, I feel transported to the gloomy English landscape in 1980 as soon as the needle drops. Diaphanous mystery and murky allure made audible. They've been encoring live with "A Forest" for almost 50 years and it still sounds fresh and amazing. This isn't even my favorite record by The Cure, but it is still near goddamn perfect.

Totally wild that a 2-Tone-associated band would have a dude in actual blackface on their album cover, but here we are. My girlfriend when I was in high school, (also the first girl I'd ever kissed), curiously mentioned that I looked like Suggs to her. I don't see it now, nor then, so I dunno what she was on about, but cheers all the same I guess, Hot Lips Jenny. My best friend also gave me the domestic US release Madness on CD—which includes most of the tracks on this record—for my 18th birthday. Too bad "Night Boat to Cairo" isn't on this coz it's arguably their best original song. Madness was always a little too sing-songy and poppy for my taste. If I'm gonna listen to 2nd-Wave British Ska (or anything remotely adjacent), I'm going straight to The Specials, The Selecter, or The English Beat. In all honesty, though, I'm probably skipping them altogether and just listening to Prince Buster or Toots and the Maytals, who these cats, especially Madness, were pretty much ripping off. I'm kinda surprised this record, and band in general, are on the 1001 list to begin with. Despite all of the above, I must say the arrangements and time signatures on this record are actually pretty fun for a pop record. There's a lot of creativity and carnivalesque energy here, and I definitely remember hearing "Our House" when I was a kid on KROQ in Los Angeles, so it takes me back a little. But that is about the extent of the charm here. Nevertheless, I haven't spun up Madness in decades, and revisiting it here reaffirms that is probably just fine. By track 11 I just kinda want it to be over, in all honesty. Not bad, but not really for me anymore; and definitely lacking the staying power some of their contemporaries.

I remember hearing "Desire Lines" and "He Would Have Laughed" somewhere, so that was my point of entry for this band. A fantastic introduction, I must say. However, my memory is a piece of mouldering cheese, so it's very possible I have listened to this record before and just forgot. Funny that some of the themes of this record deal with how we remember things. Anyhow, in this release, I'm hearing a big Pet Sounds influence, but with strong lonely, misunderstood, twee, wearing-a-cardigan-in-the-summer-with-a-messed-up-haircut vibes. Also a lot of 60s rock/soul, Phil Spector-style production projected through a modern, angular, shimmering indie rock prism. And I am totally here for it. I like the buzzy, narcotic, lo-fi spacey feel of it; all young and free and drenched in reverb. It reminds me a bit of the sense of discovery I felt when I first heard Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti. Although the compositions are quite varied, they still feel unified presented here as a whole. I seldom pay attention to lyrics, but I bet the words are kinda brooding and sad. I can totally see this becoming a classic of the era. I have mistakenly overlooked these guys. Since I'm not that familiar with the rest of their stuff, I will be dedicating the rest of the day to catching up on their entire discography. Di đi mau!

This album is a wacky freakin' ride. Super experimental and strange for a pop record. If i had little crumb-snatching kids I'd probably play this for them all the time and let them get weird with it. This feels like a work you have to treat like watching a movie in the theatre - it demands a fully dedicated listen. Put on some decent cans and just sit there in a chair with your eyes closed, immersed in the production value and compositions. Listening to it while doing practically anything else, however, it's hard to imagine a setting or moment that I would want to soundtrack this with. Perhaps a room with oil lamp projections and wigs and pillows and hallucinogenic substances... (Though, by the time you get to Mrs. O'Leary's Cow the walls and your face would start melting for sure). I think of Pet Sounds as the first emo record and a remarkable time capsule that captured a cultural moment and holds up to just putting on whenever. All of the lore and controversy surrounding SMiLE resulted in a sort of hype that is pretty impossible to ignore; or live up to. That said, this doesn't really do it for me. It feels like a lot of unfinished, half-baked ideas sandwiched and smashed and shoehorned in between two recognizable bookend songs that provide some sort of grounding to anchor the whole exercise. That said, I can nevertheless appreciate that this might be an important piece of work. The experimental, fragmentary deconstruction and reconstruction of Wilson's creative legacy evident here is kinda fascinating. Sure, it's art. But like some some important painting I would never wanna hang on the wall, it's also kinda just a widely-celebrated cultural artifact to me: I really have no idea where it would fit into my listening habits or personal aesthetics.

Despite my best intentions to investigate the work of this zany genius over the years, all I can recall on the spot about Zappa are his novelty tracks "Bobby Brown (Goes Down)" and "Valley Girl"; the latter I no doubt heard on Dr. Demento's show when I was a kid. So here I am finally listening to this funky as hell record I've been seeing in used vinyl bins my whole life, (and just as long loving the cover art with its rad juicy weirdo photo and perfectly kerned Helvetica typeface). And what can I say? I AM GROOVIN' ON THE FREAK SCENE, MANNNN. It's not hard to be transported to the mindset of peak far-out, wig-flipping, hairy jam-out weirdness from when this dropped in '69. But what is also remarkable is to hear the 1:1 influence this has had on modern stuff like Animal Collective, Ween, and King Gizzard. The musicianship is stellar and the compositions are engaging. Definitely of a time and of a place. (It's probably also had an influence on 90s hippie jam bands I can't stand, but you can't win 'em all.) The album ends on a great free jazz skronk-fest, which is fun and chaotic and reminiscent of the stuff I used to do with a band I was in. I probably should have gotten into this more when I was younger and a little more adventurous, but hell , I'll take it at any age. After all, "when the going gets weird, the weird go pro." - Frank Zappa

Adult oriented blues-rock is not really my thing. But I'll tell you whose it is: my mom's. And mom was a big fan of Bonnie Raitt. I grew up begrudgingly listening to a lot of this in the car when I was a kid. Although this record was familiar, I didn't really personally nor aesthetically connect with anything but "The Road's My Middle Name." I wish the album with the cut "I Can't Make You Love Me" was suggested instead because that song is some seriously solid work. All the same, what I did connect with is this: driving around in my mom's car that I recently inherited from her, listening to one of her favorite artists, her photo on the dashboard, remembering her. I might have rolled my eyes at a lot of her mom-rock etc. when I was a kid, but I would give anything to have been in that car listening to Bonnie Raitt with her in the other seat today.

I inherited a very early pressing of this record on vinyl from my grandpa. I don't know what he was doing with it, as he was more of a Marty Robbins and Glen Miller kinda guy. I like to fantasize that maybe he bought it on a lark when it dropped in the 60s as a way to perhaps understand my mom's hippie phase or something, coz I cannot imagine him listening to this and digging it. Either way, it was in very good condition and a crown jewel of my collection. Every track on this release is essential. As great as they all are, it is a bit frustrating now to contend with the shorter lengths for the tracks that were obviously meant for radio play at just under 3:30. You can hear that those songs were intended or even yearning to go longer, but the record company fades them out so they'll fit on one side of a promo 45. I'm looking at you, Purple Haze and Foxy Lady. Speaking of, I remember when I was a young dumb record store clerk once stating that I could sometimes hear the opening riff from Foxy Lady in my head whenever I saw a hot chick walk by. How he captured that in sound I will never fully understand, but it still kinda fits. Thanks grandpa, and thanks, Jimi.

I remember clearly when this record dropped. The first song I heard by this band was "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)," and I can still remember being lit up at the overwhelming energy of it, driving around in my car in LA with Indie 103.1 on the radio. It kinda reminded me of a rootsier PiL. There are only a few times in my life where my ears have pricked up quite like this. Upon hearing the whole thing, I was struck at the balance between lyrical and musical themes of twee, innocent adolescent energy and a sort of hardened, melancholy adult nostalgia evident in the record as a whole. The progression of the track listing is also masterfully considered. It reminds me of when albums were presented as a start-to-finish listening experience rather than to be parsed out and shuffled, which is significant given that this came out during the peak of the iPod era. What an absolutely stunning and epic debut. Extra points for titling your first big record "Funeral."

I know the intention here was to try and make twangy honky-tonk seem hip to the 60s kids, but if I wanted to listen to The Louvin Brothers, I'd just listen to The Louvin Brothers. This all sounds pretty hokey to me, practically to the point of parody. There is, all the same, some pretty stellar musicianship here, but I definitely think these fellas ought to have stuck with the psychedelic sounds they were known for. There are a couple standout tracks for me: Hickory Wind and Lazy Day. Both feature and were written by Gram Parsons, whose compositions and delivery feel more authentic, like he wasn't "trying on" the sound. All in all, I think this release holds up to the record company tagline to promote this when it came out: "This Country's for the Byrds." Uhhhh, yup.

I came into this ready to hate it: I do not like pop music, and I do not like modern country music... at all. 95% of it is just pop and rock music sang with a southern accent. And this is definitely that, if not perhaps just a little elevated. There's a young girl in the midwest or the south, however, wearing a sundress and cowboy boots and a flower crown for whom this is soundtracking her whole life, and for that, I reckon I'm stoked she has this record to lean on. Although I didn't totally hate it, I'm also relieved it's over now. Being into a lot of shoegaze bands, I did appreciate the choice to use an airy, ethereal production quality in a lot of the compositions, but this simply isn't for me. I totally could have died without ever hearing this.

I remember when big beat hit and I was working at Tower Records. It didn't really grab me the way it seemed to grab everyone else. I tended to seek out more adventurous sounds created by Future Sound of London, Ninja Tune artists, Aphex Twin, and Orbital to get my electronica fix. I know this is their debut so it broke ground, etc., however I emphatically regard Dig Your Own Hole as a way more textural, exciting, and less repetitive record over this one. Some of these tracks seem to only work at 110 dB while you're on MDMA and it shows. That said, Chico's Groove and Alive Alone do indeed seem to capture that pre-millennium sense of hope, wonder, and anticipation, (if only meant as comedown tracks as the sun came up and you were trying to find your car at a desert rave in 1995).

The Thin White Duke persona debuts and, with that, decides to get superfunky. One of the things I appreciate the most about Bowie is his chameleonic nature, though in truth this isn't my favorite sounding incarnation.

I used to listen to thrash and metal a lot when I was like 13-14. I remember my younger brother digging these guys maybe coz he was a drummer, but I never could get into them. The landscape back then was too saturated with much better bands, and Megadeth just never rose to the top. I didn't like the compositions and I always thought Dave Mustaine's vocals were cheesy as hell. Nothing's changed. I thought this sucked when it came out, and I think it sucks even more now.

If we could give half stars, this record would earn the middling, average 2.5 it deserves. I like the feel of western and equatorial African melodies, though I tend to lean more towards smooth classic Ethiopian jazz and more aggressive afrobeat stuff like Fela Kuti. The stuff on this record all sounds upbeat and happy, though I have no idea what the lyrics are. Not typically my go-to, but I always find this stuff pretty inoffensively listenable, if only in a "browsing candles and scarves in some white hippie store or cruise ship soundtrack" kinda way. That said, there are better examples of this style that I prefer. The weird breaking glass samples on "Desespoir" following the 80s cheese-synth intro was unexpected and pretty rad, the only other place I've heard that was on "Der Kuss" by Neubauten. "Dit Jeannot" is a standout track and a pretty good closer. My listening partner just hears "pussy" in the French "poussez" lyrics, and I ain't mad at it.

Generally I just find most 70s album rock to be kinda annoying and I dunno, dirty sounding, but not in a good way. More in like that dog-eared bargain-bin vinyl smell of mold and dust in an old record shop dirty where you have to wash your hands after browsing the crates. Just kinda tired, grimy, and played out. Or dirty like cruising in a Chevy El Camino with the windows down when it's 98 degrees out and your dad is wearing a tanktop while smoking Marlboro Reds, hot wind blowing armpit sweat and tobacco ash everywhere. 70s album rock on the shitty car stereo is the soundtrack of that. Maybe that vibe is some kinda heaven to someone else, but to me it's an aesthetic that I think I probably grew up with a little and find totally repellent now. Despite thinking Quadrophenia is a damn-near perfect film, I've never been a big fan of The Who, probably on account of my aforementioned overall distaste for the genre. Given that, I have to admit Baba O'Riley is a fucken epic track. Bold choice to open the record with it, because it gives such end-credits vibes. That said, many of the tracks on this record feel like they would be a good last song to close out an album, (The Song Is Over, Behind Blue Eyes, etc). It seems clear that these songs were part of a larger concept, as they seem to fit together as a whole pretty well. I am surprised to discover that I don't mind this record at all, even though I don't anticipate having a yen to listen to it much after this. A couple tracks are familiar already, and represent rock solid performances and songwriting. I would definitely give this five stars if it aligned with my personal tastes more. I especially appreciate the record cover art concept that is a literal piss-take.

John Prine makes the kind of country/folk music I like. Authentic, honest, simple, and great storytelling. Everything on this record is delivered real easy-like, and some of it with a wink, all of which might belie the depth in the themes he explores. Playing around with language that toes the line between playful and profound seems to be his schtick; but he's so damn good at it, I have to respect it as so much more than simple wordplay. A stunning lyrical classic like "Sam Stone" is the stuff of legends. "Paradise" and "Angel From Montgomery" are also big standouts here, but "Pretty Good" is unimpeachably my favorite. The lyrics are kinda silly, but Prine finds a way to make them work and sound so earnest. It's a like a honky-tonk version of "Is That All There Is?" Finally, "Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore" is still relevant, 55 years later; only instead of referring to Vietnam, I dedicate it to all the Christofascist conservatives and spineless neoliberals play-fighting while the world burns. Fucking motherfuckers.

This dropped when I worked at Tower Records and I totally slept on it. It's funny to listen to it now because I can totally hear the 90s in it. Is it in the production? Is it in the arrangements? Is it in the drums? Chord progressions maybe? I think what I'm hearing is the sort of DGAF indie freedom that permeated a lot of stuff of that era, when labels were more willing to take chances on artists and release records that challenged conventionality and took a bunch of genres and frapped them in a blender. Jon Spencer was a collaborator with Beck in the mid 90s and it really shows here. Several songs on this release seem a little short, kinda like sketches more than fully realized pieces. "Chicken Dog" is pretty great, especially since it features R.L. Burnside for a hot minute. The energy of "Dynamite Lover" and "Can't Stop" are fantastic. This really grew on me with each successive track. I'll probably be coming back to this again, at least to put a track or two on my 90s Alt Parking Lot playlist.

I was immediately filled with dread when I saw Little in the name. What distinguishes rappers that have "Little" as their first name from "Lil'"? Well exemplified here, this "Little" is British and demonstrates a vastly superior skill with their production, arrangements, beats, verse, musicality, and delivery; (as opposed to the Lil's, who are mostly American, boring, thematically irrelevant, overwhelmingly same, and just mumble and suck ass in the hardest way possible). My dread was unwarranted. Although not totally my taste, I always appreciate music that takes risks. I bookmarked a couple of these, specifically "Venom" and "Offence," which are totally outstanding. She has a real gift for that rapid-fire rhythmic verse delivery that totally sets this apart from what passes for rap and hip-hop in this era. The screaming chick in "Boss" comedically reminds me of comedian Leslie Jones wildly hollerin'. Dude at the end of "101 FM" needs to STFU tho. Surprisingly hyped to hear this while I wait to go see Wu-Tang Clan live for the first and last time tonight.

I started with Go and Everything Is Wrong, so when Play came out, Moby became a certified commercial success—literally—and I'd already kinda moved on. I didn't get into this too much then because so many songs could be heard practically EVERYWHERE anyhow. Every track was prostituted out to sell beer, shoes, candy, cars, jeans, and was in dozens of movies and TV shows. So you might say I avoided the album because it felt more like a compilation of songs I just heard in commercials. (As an artist you gotta make a decent living to live and work in Manhattan, I get it). Later on, when I finally listened to the Alan Lomax WPA recordings that provide the backbone of pretty much this entire record, I was struck at how much a sense of authenticity and, I dunno, "classic-ness" can be injected into a newer work simply by sampling an older one. Kinda in the same vein of the piano figure from 1967 is looped and used in "C.R.E.A.M" by Wu-Tang. Using these old sounds gives a new piece a sort of soul, gravity, and sense of place: like it's been around longer than it really has. That sense of a venerable soul created by this has been borrowed, however; it ain't the genuine article. That said, and notwithstanding, Play is kinda comfort record now. It reminds me of that specific sense of optimism and anticipation preceding the turn of the millennium, and the halcyon days that seemed to follow it. It might have sounded like a soulful classic when it came out because of the aforementioned use of samples, but 26 years on, its classic quality now also resides in how Moby put those samples to work within his own sweeping synth-orchestral pop-electronica compositions. This record is a musical palimpsest in that way. And it's still pretty listenable. I gotta say, though, "The Sky Is Broken" sounds like something off of that ridiculous cheese-fest Fabio After Dark album from 1993. Ultimately, the heart of this exercise does lives within the samples Moby used. They are cultural artifacts of profound significance. So, if you haven't delved into the Alan Lomax material that this record owes its entire existence (and inclusion in this list) to, you simply must listen to it. Like, today. If it's not on the 1001 list it damn well should be: Sounds of the South. Go. Do it. Right now.

I hear a lot of Perrey and Kingsley, Wendy Carlos, and Ennio Morricone influences I like going on here, which was apropos of the era. It's wild to consider what a variety of subgenres those same 60s sample sources all contributed to at the time; be it trip-hop, house, techno, ambient, or in this case big beat. That said, I always found big beat to be fucking boring. This album is no exception. Most of it sounds like generic stock placement library music to be used in a middling heist film directed by Guy Ritchie or a sneaker commercial. Yawn. Sure, it's listenable, in that nothing about it is particularly annoying (perhaps other than the needless hammering repetition), but none of it really excites the senses either. There are some fun samples and sounds effects throughout, but probably all a lot more engaging to hear while hopped up on goofballs in a warehouse or out in the desert under the starts at 100 dB where the bass is pumping your heart for you. I've always maintained that if one must have one's senses altered to appreciate a piece of creative work, it's not all that creative.

I DJed in an all industrial club from like 1995-1997, so I've heard "Guber Einer Nation" dozens and dozens of times at loud volumes*. I never spun it up myself, however. Back then I thought the music and vocal delivery on "Opus Dei" and every other track was all so silly—parodistic even. So, yeah, I didn't really care for Laibach then, and I still don't. What a hilarious undertaking for this group to make quasi-anti-fascist music that sounds so... fascist. What has changed, however, is that I have come to really appreciate and respect them as an art project and creative collective now, especially with offering NSK citizenship, doing weird cover versions, etc. That appreciation, nevertheless, does not inspire me to listen to their albums. Today, sure, it's fun in a sort of nostalgic way that takes me back to my early DJ days, but the distant past seems to be the time and place Laibach fits best. These days, I'm actively trying to escape all the fascist discourse in our daily lives; so I certainly am not trying to invite that aesthetic into the art I look at or listen to as well. Then again, perhaps we all need to get used to this. *I always heard the lyric "Gebt mir ein Leitbild" as "GIVE ME A LIGHT BEER" and it made me laugh every time. If anything, I'm grateful for this listening session to remind me of a dumb joke I hadn't remembered in decades.

Cocaine is so fucking annoying. Anyone who's ever been cornered at a party between the hours of 12 and 3AM by someone totally lit up on the stuff knows what I'm talking about. That said, this is the one exception I'll make. This record is arguably the best thing that 4 bandmates doing heart-stopping quantities of the devil's dandruff ever produced (... and Fleetwood Mac's Rumours is the absolute fucking worst). I said what I said. Tommi Iommi has always had such a penchant for writing riffs just soaked with foreboding heaviness. Imagine having the terrifying and dark reputation for making some of the most anti-establishment occult rock and roll ever recorded to date and then what? Oh, yeah, go and break everyone's hearts from out of nowhere by writing and recording the incredible "Changes." It's a tall order to make a 70s hesher cry into his 5th can of Strohs but they did it. The rhythm section showed up every damn day to WORK. Osbourne's vocal melodies are sometimes repetitive and follow the guitar rhythms rather than have their own cadence, but when he breaks out of it, some real genius phrasing emerges. Well played, boys. Nearly every song on this album is great, if not incredible. "Supernaut" sounds as fresh, energetic, and vital in 2025 as ever. I wish it didn't fade out though, ugh. I listen to Sabbath pretty regularly, but usually as single selected tracks within playlists. It's another thing entirely to immerse oneself in the record front to back and get taken for a ride the way the band intended it. I would have changed the track order and probably nixed "FX", myself, but it is what it is. I blame the cocaine for this record being almost, but not quite, perfect.

I was a huge fan of gangsta rap originator Eazy E when I was a kid. The themes and stories put forth by these rappers seemed like cautionary tales, journal entries, and descriptions of autobiographical trauma. But that's also a pretty generous reading. It was also misogynistic, violent, and deeply anti-social. And it was 100% designed to shock in that way. I dunno how it didn't leave more of a negative impact on me when I was 12, but so it goes. What started as a gritty, raw, and anti-social genre with 80s gangsta rap by the 90s had also become a commercialized cash cow. There was lots of stacks to be made off music about murder and pimping. Despite Dre's pedigree as a genuine originator of the genre, this shit—at least lyrically—felt problematic to me back then, and remains problematic to me now. My issue with it is this: aside from finding a lot of themes explored in gangsta rap as repellant in all its violence and misogyny; it was also broadly received by a lot of the fandom as a thing to laud and aspire toward. ThIs resulted in an entire generation of kids who wanted to live that urban struggle experience sometimes more than vicariously. Realness politics abounded. Aside from fans who wanted to live the G life for real, it also spawned an entire generation of poser "studio gangster" performers and poser fuckhead fans, who glorified the thug life resulting from redlined urban destitution, senseless criminal violence, sexism, and murder as somehow cool. I had to sell a lot of these posers cassettes and CDs of this stuff working at Tower Records in Sacramento in the 90s. And they were annoying as hell. (This whole critique also applies to Scandinavian black metal and goregrind dorks). Anyhow, if I step back and just relax, yes, at the end of the day it was all entertainment. Not to be taken all that seriously. I don't need to feel like I've suddenly turned into my parents about all this. But I also lived in a place and time that was so heavily influenced by the aggressive machismo and the thug-life wannabe idolatry in gangsta rap that I found myself walking into dangerous situations pretty regularly in public spaces without any provocation. I was chased, saw friends get beat, and had friends actually die. I don't blame the art for this, necessarily, but rather the way it was interpreted and glorified and cosplayed by the idiot fandom. So, The Chronic....Undeniably an important record and cultural artifact. Lots of bangers throughout. The production slaps and some of the bars are quite impressive. For me, however, it's all too loaded and I can't look away form the negativity and toxicity this all seems to celebrate. And Dre made millions off it. If you give it a deep listen the music is compelling, yes, but the lyrics are incredibly off-putting. Despite being a classic it's really aged like milk. PS: I dunno if this was one of the first records with a lot of skits, but I know this: skits on hip-hop records were an exceedingly tiresome trend that I absolutely hated from the first one. So dumb. You weren't Rudy Ray Moore, so i dunno why you even tried.

For this era and genre I'm more an Animals kinda fella. What can I say? I just like it a little more raw and a little darker. The Kinks stuff is all very cheerful and hence a lot of the songs usually end up sounding kinda juvenile and silly to me. Jaunty, even. I probably need to lighten up. Sorry, Ray. I'm sure when this record dropped it was an exciting time and I am willing to bet cash money that The Kinks were a riot to see live in their heyday. Today, a few of these tracks seem like good options to include on a mixtape for a friend for when they drive around in the summertime in their Chevy Impala. Standouts include "Party Line"; a fun and kinda goofy throwaway novelty track at best, but still worthwhile. The more psychedelic tracks on this album tend to be stronger. "Rainy Day In June" is solid, aside from the overwrought sound effects. "Fancy" is great, though it does end too soon. It would have benefitted from vamping it out for like 8 minutes for full-on psychedelic effect. And of course "Sunny Afternoon" has that inherent staying power that the more popular hits The Kinks wrote are totally known for. Totally inoffensive and listenable, but aside from "Sunny Afternoon" not particularly memorable either.

Tim Buckley's voice—especially when he goes all alto/soprano—does nothing but irritate me, but he is inarguably a tremendously gifted songwriter. I must ask: what tf was it with sound effects in songs released in the 1960s? Opening with bombs exploding is a statement, sure, but it also kinda cheapens the track by a lot and sounds like someone rattling aluminum siding more than anything. "Pleasant Street" has a real sense of urgency in it that I can hear probably had an influence on the The Mars Volta. I'm curious about all the Renaissance influences abounding in this release, (as well as many others from the 60s). With all the sex and drugs and rock 'n roll happening then, it seems strange that the harpsichord, (an instrument that evokes images of aristocratic formality, still ruffle collars, and huge bustle skirts if ever there was one), would be soundtracking all this transgressive psychedelic hippie social behavior. I guess SoCal Ren Faire was in full swing by '67 so I'll blame that for this nonsense. This record is at its most impactful when it's leaning more heavily into experimental psych territory, but overall I just can't get into Buckley's voice and vocal phrasing. No option for a middling 2 1/2 stars, so I'll give it a 3 since he went on to write the masterpiece "Song to the Siren", (but I can't stand his voice on that one either, it's more about giving Liz Fraser a opportunity to elevate it for all humankind for me).

I lived in the Fairfax during a lot of the Odd Future hype. And in some part, it transformed the neighborhood in irrevocable and kinda bad ways, (including running out decades-old businesses because the leases got so damn high on account of the trendiness brought in part by that hype). So I hold the output that came from all that desolation of the Fairfax I loved for two decades against really bright light. I mean, if it means that because of some label hype and new fad storefronts I can't enjoy the best Sicilian slice in LA at Damiano's anymore it better be worth it. RIP Mr. Pizza. So yeah, you got me: I'm a little jaded. I first head Frank Ocean on Jay-Z and Fuckhead's "No Church in the Wild" and I was really impressed by the verses he sang on that piece: the phrasing and especially the lyrics were provocative, heretical, and pretty punk rock. That said, this was made for someone, but it was not me. It was likely 100% eaten up by some of those kids wearing $95 t-shirts posting weird pix up on Tumblr and skateboarding up the street from where I lived though. There are a couple standout tracks, and I can definitely appreciate breaking with the conventions inherent in popular R&B here. It's coloring outside the lines and that part of it is great. However, being it's not my preferred genre at all, I was never gonna really like this. Or at least put it into any kind of regular rotation. However, it did last the exact time—to the second—it took me to edge, blow, and mow the front lawn, so I'm grateful no other free time was taken up with the assignment. Even still, I would almost say I could have died without hearing this, but I did genuinely enjoy the lyric "If it brings me to my knees, It's a bad religion" as much as the aforementioned verses on "No Church In The Wild." "Crack Rock" hit me as kinda funny, even though it's not probably supposed to. PS perhaps I'm being pedantic, but although "Pyramids" was pretty fun lyricplay and sounds like a certified club banger, it's super misinformed to equate the image of a dark-skinned African queen with a Macedonian/Greek descendent of Ptolemy who was probably her darkest when her olive ass got a sunburn. (Okay, not pedantic - no apologies, I was an anthropology major in college. Deal with it Frank. [And get your facts straight]).

There's a quality to the production of 60s rock 'n roll, and especially r&b and soul, that has this thick, slightly hollow, bassy sound that's like a warm blanket. It's the audio equivalent of looking at a black and white photo that places it in—and of—a time and place that I really connect with. It's transportative. Dusty has a really powerful and yet understated vocal quality that transcends the simplistic and reductive association with vanilla soul. The core of soul music is in the vocal expression, and she's got it all the way to her bones. You can tell she's feeling it, and that's really what matters, isn't it? This is soul music through and through, even if she's a white girl from the UK. Some of the compositions are a little sing-songy, and there are perhaps one or two too many cover versions, but what are you gonna do? They just did this a lot back then. I gotta say Lesley Gore's "You Don't Own Me" belongs with its originator; Dusty didn't bring enough to it to really justify a cover. However, she really adds an urgency and honesty to the Bacharach penned "Anyone Who Had a Heart" that might surpass the original. And of course "Wishin' and Hopin'" is a certified classic. I mean the little "yeeeeah" she delivers at the beginning of Ray Charles' "Don't You Know" is absolutely sample-worthy. Essential.

Despite my college girlfriend being pretty into Elliot Smith, I never much listened to him. What I did hear kinda irked me due to constant overuse of this annoying chorus effect on his vocals. Nevertheless, I'm familiar with his work and impact just being a music fan who often drove by the Sound Solutions mural featured on the cover of this record regularly as a resident of LA. In a city that adopted him (and he it), he is broadly considered a music scene legend and regarded as a genius; evidenced in the aforementioned wall mural that has become a (semi) permanent tribute to him. I have at times wondered: would he still be so heralded had he not died so young? So this is probably the second or third time I've sit down to give this guy a listen all the way through a record, and not just hearing  "Say Yes" in a coffee shop, or else some echo in a memory of my days at university hearing his Kill Rock Stars stuff on my girlfriend's stereo in the other room. When this record picks up the pace, it really has a somewhat understated propulsive energy to it. Nevertheless, this record also often sounds so haunted. I can hear the ripple effect this must have had on chamber pop work made by artists like Sufjan Stevens. It pushes and pulls with tremendous extremes, swinging from the sunny joy of "LA" to the anachronistic and jaunty "In The Lost And Found" and then veers right into Pet Sounds territory with "Stupidity Tries." "Better Be Quiet Now" might as well be the non-diagetic music cue from an early 00s indie rom-com no one has ever seen. Closing out with "Bye" could be what you hear in the Overlook Hotel while talking with ghosts. Standouts: "Junk Bond Trader", "Everything Means Nothing To Me", "Can't Make A Sound." These are all super solid pieces that made it onto an annual faves list I keep. I guess better late than never. A lot of folks talk about Smith's music being super sad. I'm not hearing it in this record. That might be because the sad music I like is probably utterly devastating compared to the subtlety inherent in these recordings. And, after giving this a dedicated listen, I must say I think all that heralding was very well-earned. 

I tend to go for more daring, moody, and less commercial mid-century jazz stylings like Mingus and Coleman. I gotta say this hits though, even if it did eventually age into elevator music or Starbucks playlist muzak at some point. At the very least, given the huge chart success of Time Out in 1959, this record gave a wider listenership an opportunity to delve deeper and perhaps get into some more challenging jazz. I wanna hope that Time Out served as a gateway album that hepped the kids into more challenging stuff released the same year like Ah Um and The Shape of Jazz To Come. But even if they didn't explore further, I'm still encouraged that audiences of popular music were vibing with odd time signatures and syncopated instrumentals at all. Either way, this is a totally easy and decent listen. A totally classic, unlabored, and pretty worthwhile way to decorate 40 something minutes of your waking hours. Maybe even a chance to access some of the mood my grandfather probably got into with this after a glass of scotch and a long day.

Joy Division has been showing throughout my life since I was about 12. From the first time I saw the cool goth/punk kid at my junior high wearing the iconic shirt with pulsar CP 1919 on it, to my best friend putting "Isolation" on a mixtape for me a few years later, to learning how to play "Shadowplay" on the guitar well into my 40s. In all that time, Unknown Pleasures has always been my favorite Joy Division album. It has a rawness and an edge that I utterly connect with. Closer, by contrast, comes across as a much more polished and aesthetically sophisticated collection of songs demonstrating a development and growth that would serve as a model to inspire hundreds of other bands to follow. From "Passover," laying down a mood of morose desolation, to the cold, complex angularity of "Colony", the production and musical quality of the whole record created a template that countless imitators would use as their defining aesthetic. The structures, rhythms, and melodic figures also foreshadow what would come with New Order, especially the way some of the note clusters on "A Means To An End" show up in "Ceremony" later on. This is a haunted record, not just because it was their last. It is at once a journal of the psychological fractures and despair evidenced in the words Curtis sings, and a eulogy to the potential these four boys from Manchester could have reached in the future had Curtis survived his self-destruction. Each note the band plays here carves out a gloomy and morose epitaph in cold marble. It's a great listen, but also a very hard one, once we know the whole story. What else could we expect, however, from a band that named themselves after the title given to a group of concentration camp women that were routinely raped by soldiers of the Third Reich?

1960s flute and violin macrame Renaissance Faire folk doesn't really do it for me, and this record is pretty full of it. That said, I'm more a fan of the raw, garage rock work of Them. I think Morrison's voice is more suited for howling over some fuzzed out guitars than literally anything else, (and that is a stretch itself since I find his vocals pretty grating). I worked at Tower Records when his 23rd record came out, "Days Like This." It was on the in-store play and I found it irritating as fuck having to listen to almost daily over the PA. Torture. This was never gonna land for me. This is the first record in the list I actively skipped though a couple songs. If zero stars were a thing....

I think there is a magic when you get certain people together to play music. The Pixies are evidence of this. There is a gestalt quality to the ingredients of Francis/Deal/Santiago/Lovering that I don't think really happens in any other configuration. I've mostly disregarded Frank Black's solo work. I remember seeing a video for "Hold Onto Your Ego" on 120 Minutes in the 90s and being pretty underwhelmed. Chalk it up to a boring first impression. I have listened to enough of his solo work since to gain an a more complete impression, but then again, nothing I've heard has really left that impression or felt iconic enough to stick. That said, Black Francis is clearly an extremely integral part of the Pixies. Listening to this you can really hear how much he shapes the Pixies sound. But this is a Frank Black record and it's supposed to be distinct: I get it.  This album is fun, but it would benefit from some trimming. A lot of these songs feel super short and half-complete, and others are clearly b-sides. I think it could be so much punchier if it were a little shorter.  Highlights: "Thalassocracy", "Calistan", and "Two Reelers" (which feels like two different songs). Perhaps everyone knows "Headache" as the big single, but it doesn't really hit me the same way. I do love how he pronounces "Los Angeles" with a hard g in the bridge on "Olé Mulholland" the way my grandfather used to. Like a lot of the alternative rock from the 90s, I hear a lot of Lou Reed influence going on here in the vocal phrasings. Overall, this sounds so much like an artifact of its 1994 time and place, especially "Freedom Rock", which I immediately put on my 90s Alt Parking Lot playlist.

I have a funny history with running into Billy Corgan. First I was at a Lycia show somewhere in SF in like 1996 where he was standing next to me, I overheard him jerkily slagging off the band as "a Cocteau Twins rip-off". A couple years later, staying the dorms at UCLA over the summer for a tutoring job I had, he brushed by me in the lobby of Hedrick Hall while they were there filming the video for "Perfect." Then, almost two decades later, when my starfucker girlfriend at the time called him over to our table at Swingers on Beverly to talk to him about their mutual friend and muse Mosh and a brief conversation ensued. Our paths have intersected more often than any other stranger I am aware of; and we've still never ourselves had a conversation. And that is probably for the best because any person who describes himself as a "free-market libertarian capitalist" seems utterly insufferable.  But, if I couldn't separate the art from the artist I wouldn't like anything. That said, I was really never a huge fan of Smashing Pumpkins in their heyday. It largely had to do with Billy Corgan's nasal, whiny vocals. The man cannot sing. He sounds like Eric Cartman 90% of the time. It's still a baffling aesthetic choice to me even now. I think I heard the breathy "Today" and thought it was alright. I did like the sadboy ballad "Disarm" when it came out, (probably coz of that girl at school I had a secret crush on - you know how it goes). Sometime soon after in the mid 90s, however, I saw them play "Cherub Rock" one night on SNL and despite my annoyance at his high-pitched squeak-singing, my interest was nevertheless piqued based on the energy of the music on its own. I started paying attention. I've since come to tolerate the Corgan Caterwaul because most of the band's music and songwriting is solid enough to compensate. (I also feel this way about Placebo). I worked at the flagship Tower Records store when this album dropped, like so many others on this list,  and I remember it feeling like an event. I bought the singles box set The Aeroplane Flies High for this release because it was a such a cool package and concept. There were a fuckton of decent b-sides, outtakes, and cover versions on that release as well that made it quite worthwhile. That said, I don't think I've ever done a proper sitdown with this whole record.  I must say, the sheer volume of songs on this record (and the singles b-sides, my god) represent a totally overwhelming and impressive amount of creative output. I would expect in that situation to discover a lot of filler and throwaway stuff, but I can't really. Of course the singles are the bangers here—and there are a lot on this record. "Tonight, Tonight" feels like the walkup cue when you're winning some major award or getting married, with the ascending strings and propulsive drum crescendos. "Zero," in all of its godless depression fuck-you energy is arguably The Gen X/Millennial Theme Song for the 90s. "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" as a hopeless sibling to "Zero" and continues on in this same vein. "Thirty-Three" sings of hope through a diaphanous haze of swirling psychedelia. The melting popsicle sweetness of "1979" evokes a compelling near-anemoia for the carefree feral summers of a youth some of us remember and others have only dreamed of.  Aside from the singles, there is a lot of sameness in the sound and structure of many of the tracks on this record, which I guess is fine since those tracks either rock or are sweet ballads. Flood's and Alan Moulder's production on this really comes front and center. It feels cohesive and chunky, bassy, and big. It brings together the more disparate sounding tracks to feel a part of the whole. Other standout tracks include: "Muzzle", "Bodies", "We Only Come Out At Night". As a total concept and presentation, the flow of song to song is really impressively considered and shines as an example of a time when an album is released that is clearly intended to be experienced start to finish and not chopped up into bits on shuffle. Mellon Collie feels so much like the time in which it was made. It is incredibly ambitious, and succeeds pretty admirably. It's a rare thing to not have something this big fall short of its promise but even the filler doesn't really sound like filler. I have to admit this is quite a special record, if not primarily due to nostalgic associations at this point in the game. But fuck it, I'll take it.

Iconic and singular. From when I heard the first strums of "Off Your Face" from the Glider EP, on a mixtape made for me by my best friend in high school, I was hooked on MBV—and most of the shoegaze genre in general—for the rest of my life. This band had no aesthetic predecessors, so the idiosyncratic, unpredictable, and flat-out messy way they made their music in large part accounts for its uniqueness. I've read Shields has a reputation for being unbelievably difficult to work with due to his perfectionism and methods. When I consider that the man is practically inventing an entire genre of music, however, I'll say it could be justified (maybe). I know, the "price of genius" narratives are yawn-inducing for sure, but tell me they don't apply here. Maybe I'm wrong, but the legacy of this collection of songs does speak for itself. Also, I don't have to like a person to like their art. "Only Shallow" is an absolute avalanche of a way to open an album. What a statement. A couple of of the tracks here feel like sketches more than songs, but it's alright coz this is another example of a record best listened front to back as an immersive experience. "When You Sleep" and "I Only Said" are modern classics. The delicious crunchy noise of "Sometimes" reminds me of the time I never actually laid in bed watching the smoke rise to the ceiling while smoking cigarettes laying next to a girl I liked at a party in college. Overall, this record swirls and it pulses. "Soon" is a perfect closer and a total anthem that befits its time and yet also feels fresh today. That goes for most of the tracks on this collection. I'm disappointed I've never gotten to see this band play live, but from what I've heard it might be for the better lest my tinnitus become full-blown deafness on account of the legendarily insane decibel levels at their shows. Loveless almost bankrupted their label, gave the same label executives anxiety attacks for years, and was not particularly commercially successful. But was it all worth it? I mean, nobody died, so... sure.

You are correct, Leonard, I do want it darker. That because I deeply appreciate when an artist just really leans into their aesthetic. And Cohen has always sung from and about the shadows. On his final living release, here we have it all stripped pretty bare, the gravel of his voice laying the foundation for the path he leads us on. The notes a flickering candle that lights our way forward. Cohen's songs are both prayers and confessions. He often sings of faith, but in this way that feels at once grounded and human, and also rather gritty and soiled. I've also heard this approach in a few other of my favorite artists, notably Johnny Cash, Nick Cave, Tom Waits, and Low. Several of the tracks on this release also drip with a captivating, murky noir so reminiscent of radio legend Joe Frank. This record is gorgeous and it is captivating. Appropriate that Cohen would collaborate with a choir on this release. These songs are holy. Every track on this thing is essential. There is not a minute wasted. What a stunning way to close out a career and say goodbye.

My introduction to The The was via "Slow Emotion Replay" hit single on alternative radio in the 90s, featuring those iconic Johnny Marr guitar lines. Then, the girl who popped my cherry put "Sodium Light Baby" on a mixtape for me sometime shortly thereafter. I've never been a huge fan, but Dusk was a solid record and has played a bit of a role in my life's story. They have one of the most meta band names ever, and for that they get mucho respect. I can hear the collaborations here, especially some of the JG Thirlwell rhythms and synth lines. There are some decent highlights. "This Is The Day" is a classic 80s track that surprises with its use of accordion and harmonica (the latter becoming a go-to motif used in subsequent hits as well). "Uncertain Smile" another iconic track of the era gives a sort of cabaret synth-pop vibe reminiscent of Marc Almond's stuff. It's theatrical and dramatic. Matt seems to consistently explore themes of not knowing himself, and perhaps these offerings are efforts to work that out. "Perfect", aside from the accordion, sounds like a lost New Order track. Speaking of, I imagine this is a record folks who were cool enough to dig just a little deeper beyond dancing to "Blue Monday" or "Everything Counts" in some disco in 1983 were probably hep to. Personally, I would probably have been listening to Kill 'Em All by Metallica if I hadn't been 8 years old.

True story: I worked at Tower Records with an artist actually named Chuck Berry. His silhouette looked like Basquiat and he was a really cool cat. One time he told me a story about how he hooked up with his next-door neighbor. Sometime later, he came to work one day with two black eyes. I asked what happened and he said he didn't know. He just woke up on his stoop outside his apartment with a bad headache and double shiners. Best he could surmise, his neighbor brained him with a frying pan the night before when he was drunkenly trying to find his keys to the front door. He thinks she might have been angry because he was kinda ghosting her after the hookup, and this was her revenge. Years later, at a party, I was shooting video and interviewing everyone at a house party. I saw Chuck and asked him how he was doing and he said that the coming year was gonna be "all about Chuckonia... like Stankonia, but FOR ME." Chuck was a total original, and so is this record.

My dad and his wife live in a Jimmy Buffet-themed retirement community in Florida called Margaritaville. Dire Straights sounds like the band playing in the poolside bar/lounge in Maragaritaville every Thursday at happy hour. There is not enough reefer or beer on planet Earth to convince me that this record isn't boring as hell. Nope.

If I'm listening to college rock from the 80s, I'm listening to the Replacements and early Pulp. Otherwise, I feel like there was a rash of stuff like this pouring out the UK in the early and mid 80s that to me is just utterly forgettable. There are moments here that remind me of The Jazz Butcher, who I am also not too fond of. There's not one thing unpalatable nor annoying going on here, but I did feel anxious to just get it over with so I could move on to something a little more compelling. The whole thing just feels kinda soulless and unsalted. Perhaps the most interesting thing going on here might just be that he's British. I could have totally died without ever hearing this record. Oh, and speaking of dying if I'm listening to anything labeled "Sophisti-pop" it's coz I'm tied to a chair and being tortured and I need you to call the fucking cops.

There are originators, and there are translators. The Cramps are both. They took their obsessions with oldies rock 'n' roll, soul, blues, rockabilly, and garage rock, horror/monster movies, grindhouse culture, and mid-century Americana and shot them through a shattered prism of modern punk, goth, bdsm, retro-camp, and late 70s/early 80s urban culture; making something entirely their own. Produced by the legendary Alex Chilton, this debut record is a subculture classic. The title itself ridicules the Christo-fascist moral majority that was gaining ground in American society when it was released. They were here to freak out the normals and wanted you to fucking know it. Every track is a good time and is just dripping with reverbed atmosphere. The fuzzed out guitars mixed with that hollowbody jangle laid over absolutely primitive drum rhythms and no basslines is rock 'n' roll at its most bare and depraved. It's a hot rod stripped down to only the parts that will keep it running. Here the Cramps tell you where they are coming from: it's simple and it's raw and it sounds like trouble. And it's trouble I never mind getting into: The Cramps are one of those bands I can put on at any time and it's the right time.  There is only one Cramps. Most of the so-called psychobilly bands that followed suit are utterly uninspiring (Deadbolt being a lone exception). The Cramps themselves rejected being associated with the emergent genre anyhow, which is about as punk as it gets. Perhaps because The Cramps' cult aesthetic wasn't a put-on; it was their whole lifestyle. There is a sense of authenticity they carry through all their work that although theatrical and campy, also feels at once genuine and lived-in. I was lucky enough to see The Cramps live on New Years' Eve in Hollywood once and they were magnificent. Completely feral. The beating heart of the group has always been the union of Lux Interior and Ivy Rorschach. I once put in a dating profile bio: "If the love isn't like Lux and Ivy I don't want it." That not only goes for how much they loved and fit each other, but also how much ardor they had for their inspirations. They dug through the grimy, overlooked, and cast-off pieces of mid-century American weirdo culture and shone a luminous blacklight on them. As custodians, curators, and translators of these ephemeral pieces of forgotten and ignored culture, The Cramps are national treasures.