I adore this album. The pacing, the sly lyrics, Lou Reed’s unmistakable voice…it’s all so perfectly crafted. My mom had this in her record collection when I was a kid, nestled along side her Led Zeppelin, and Pink Floyd albums. Sometimes she’d put Transformer on, crank the volume, and clean the house while dancing from room to room belting out the lyrics to ‘Walk on the Wild Side’. The lyrics, I thought were playful and a little mischievous but I didn’t quite grasp the meanings. But I love this memory of my mama singing through the house. I remember feeling sad when she later got deeply religi and all the rock records disappeared. Thank god (ironically) Lou Reed was never far from my own collection. My forever favorite? Satellite of Love.

A real moment of heat and rhythm. I’ve taken my share of salsa classes and this is the sound for the dance floor.

Them streets are rough, no doubt … all seems like a grind. So yeah, where is Cloud Nine?

I wanna smoke cigarettes and read Leonard Cohen poetry please

Rio is like stepping into a time capsule of neon, champagne, and windblown silk on a yacht. Unmistakable flair—glamorous, decadent, and bold. The ‘80s, captured in full technicolor glory.

Loud, raw, rebellious—this album throws a Brit punk anti-everything punch right to the eardrums. And like how perfect is the name Sid Vicious!!!

A pretty incredible intimate debut album full of ache and emotional depth … I remember how beautifully captivating Chris Martin’s voice was when this first hit.

The Brazilian feels indeed. I honestly didn’t know of this music or ever listened to it… unless it was playing at Cafe Brazil in LA…that place was so delicious, god I hope it’s still there.

I’ve liked a few Janelle Monáe tracks off Dirty Computer, but this was my first time listening to her debut album—and honestly, it didn’t quite land for me. She’s incredibly talented and theatrical, with a strong visual style. I can appreciate the creativity conceptually, but I just didn’t connect with the music on this one as much.

Guilty once again of not being super familiar with this album…now I get it. The Cure’s originality and range really hit me here. It’s eerie, feverish, almost hallucinatory in the best way. A spooky and immersive fever dream. I’d definitely listen again. “A Forest” is a standout.

This one leans into a kind of whimsical silliness—like a collection of quirky little sing-song character stories. It’s not an album I’d reach for instinctively, but some of these tracks definitely float around in the cultural ether. I remember hearing a few growing up or catching them in the general zeitgeist. Not quite my usual vibe, but I get the charm, sort of.

I came to Deerhunter a bit late, without any early associations, but this album has a number of tracks that stuck with me. It dives into themes like nostalgia, identity, purpose, spirituality, even death in a way that feels both intimate and universal. There’s a bittersweet, almost upbeat melancholy throughout that feels honest, not forced. Desire Lines a favorite. Helicopter stands out with layered instruments, and the final track, He Would Have Laughed, haunts me a bit.

As a Beach Boys-adjacent album, this album caught me off guard—I even wondered for a minute if it was made for kids (Vega-Tables). It’s different… psychedelic, a bit manic—like I’ve been dosed and can’t tell if it’s about to be a great trip or a total spiral. Thankfully, Good Vibrations is there to anchor the high. My favorite moment, though? “Eggs and grits and lickety split”… absolutely stealing that line for daily use.

Hot Rats is a surreal ride—a psychedelic rock-and-roll circus shaped by a wide range of influences. You can hear traces of rock, blues, jazz, classical, even beat vibes…all filtered through Zappa’s unmistakable avant-garde lens. What’s most striking is how purely he leans into artistic freedom. Unfiltered, fearless, and entirely nonconformist. A subtle genius, really. Cheers to doing it all his own way.

So this is not an album I’d reach for but admit I get the appeal. It’s built on a good blend of country, folk, and blues and ol’ Bonnie shares some relatable emotions for sure. Her voice is beautiful - steady and soulful and there is something powerful about the fact that she hit her stride in middle age singing about life’s unexpected turns: love, longing, and heartbreak…all the usual suspects, but with a grace that makes them hit deeper. “Have A Heart” does bring back a weirdly specific memory of it playing in the background at a local pizza arcade in the mid-90’s, and again at one of my mom’s friend’s houses. I’d probably sing along without knowing totally what the lyrics meant but now, I’m pretty sure some woman was blasting that track because her man was being a total POS. It tracks. I also kind of dig the "Road's My Middle Name" and hope I hear it someday while I'm on a road.

An unreal legend, and a badass album. This is one of the most unique and groundbreaking psychedelic rock records, probably, like… forever. Not only has it been influential - it sort of set the foundation, a sonic blueprint that shaped so much that followed. Listening to Hendrix feels like he dropped out of the sky from another planet, channeling some celestial, astral force through his guitar and voice. There’s an otherworldly quality…he was sent here just to leave his mark on music and culture - a supernatural force. I never really thought about what the word superstar truly meant—but yeah, Hendrix was that 100%.

I like this album overall—definitely had a few tracks like “Rebellion” on repeat back when it came out. The lyrics are strong and capture that early 2000s feeling of emotional shift, like in Garden State—grappling with loss, change, and a fading sense of innocence. I don’t listen to a ton of indie rock these days, but the nostalgia it delivers is undeniable.

Ummm, this album cover! Cute AF. I’m not a modern country fan AT ALL but can dabble in the oldies…and if we cut down on some of the heavy-handed holy vibes do I kind of find myself vibing with, “I am a Pilgrim”…a little bit?Are the instruments blessing us just a little? I dunno…I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I see another dimension where it’s me, wearing a cowgirl romper, boots with sparkly stars, and a wide-brim hat, spinning slowly around on a red vinyl barstool in a tumbleweed bar drinking a Shirley Temple while “You Ain’t Going Nowhere” and “You Don’t Miss Your Water” plays on the dusty old jute box. And I’m happy for her….

Well, wasn’t that cute. But no thank you.

I used to listen to a fair amount of this genre, so revisiting feels a bit surreal. The repetition doesn’t hit the same for me now and I don’t connect with it like I once did. Still, I remember how fresh and exciting it felt at the time, and it’s clear how much it influenced what came after. “One Too Many Mornings” still stands out and holds up beautifully. And “Life Is Sweet” delivers with that gritty, dirty beat that gives it real texture.

Stepping into one of Bowie’s theatrical worlds is always a welcome escape. The album opens with a strong rock pulse, and from there, his vocals and the instrumentation carry a steady, immersive energy—confident, stylish, and unmistakably his.

I don’t know man, that’s a lot of trash and too much guitar for me.

Honestly, kind of a little escape for me, especially, on a Monday in America in June 2025. Has some definite haut de gamme vibes: dude is serving some engaging poussa and poussez energy…on repeat ….on multiple tracks (I throughly thought he was saying pussy over and over). His voice is pretty cool, kind of that raspy “I woke up like this” kind of way. While this is would not be my go-to, it was enjoyable…one-off sort of listen for me. One gripe is the long track lengths; they started to blur together with similar beats and phrases. Did I accidentally press the repeat button? No, I had not. That said, the sound is bright and explosive and rooted in something original and authentic, which I believe is where Talking Heads found some of their magic (looking at you, “Help Me Somebody”).

I’m on board with ‘Baba O’Riley,’ but I don’t think I’m a full-on The Who fan beyond that.

A sweet and quietly powerful debut. I hadn’t known about this unique charmer before. There’s a simplicity to his style—so understated it might be easy to overlook—but that’s part of the charm. It feels perfectly imperfect, much like the songs and the subject themselves. Minimal and honest, the album delivers lyrics that are deeply human—full of vulnerability, humor, and simply shared truths. There’s something affecting in how he weaves together brokenness and wit, all in a folky, country-tinged package. I was surprised by how much I connected to music I wouldn’t typically gravitate toward. John Prine has a way of pulling you in with his lyrics. Some lines that stood out: • “Your light is the sweetest thing.” • “Your flag decal won’t get you into heaven anymore.” • “Beauty and silence both run deep.” • “…dreaming just comes natural… like the love hidden deep in your heart.” It would have been a treasure to witness him live—there’s an intimacy in his songs that must have felt even more special in person.

I missed this one the first time around—and it’s fine. It has its own sound: choppy, messy, full of guitar acrobatics—l noisy showman with chaotic flair vibes. I tend to lean more toward classic blues, and this felt too fractured for my taste (for a blues explosion). However, I kind of felt some Velvet Underground meets Stones influence on “Rocketship”…which was probably my favorite track. And ‘Sticky’ was kind of weird in a good way. But overall, I probably won’t revisit this album anytime soon.

Little Simz is a force—her debut was sharp, fearless, and undeniably stylish. Her lyrics are polished and tight, but still full of soul. She brings clarity and poise to every bar, saying it exactly how it is: raw, real, and human. She’s in her feels, and you feel it too. There’s a sovereign style to her delivery—confident, unbothered, and uniquely her own. She really killed it.

A blend of eclectic sounds and unmistakable Moby sampling—this album feels like an audio journey of 1999…. Even when the lyrics veer toward repetition, there’s something unexpected and captivating layered in. “Porcelain” remains beautiful, even if it was overplayed at the time—it’s a pleasure to revisit now and then. And “Southside”? That track was practically very group anthem - definite moment in time. I think the instrumental tracks still hold up like,“The Sky Is Broken” is a standout—achingly beautiful.

Ah yes, the late ’90s musical time machine continues its tour—and I’m apparently still onboard. Fatboy Slim was peak dance-floor fuel back in the day. I actually drove from Portland to Seattle with friends to see him live, which felt very important at the time (and still kinda does). His stage presence was electric—like your favorite house party DJ who accidentally became famous. Also, he didn’t wear shoes during his set, which felt rebellious and approachable. Listening to this album now feels like opening a box of old sparkly toys from your childhood—there’s instant joy, a little “aww,” and a brief existential crisis about how time…... It’s all good though. This album was perfect for what it was when it was: a glitter bomb of funky beats, squiggly sounds, and dance-floor memories.

Hmm, that’s a lot to take on for casual listening. It seems humorous almost but I’m not sure that’s the intended goal. Very theatrical sonic production but personally, I don’t know how to connect with this emotionally or sonically. Am I glad I listened, I mean, sure?…but to quote the title track “… we’re all glad it’s over.”

This lands with full-on, coke-fueled, long-haired-loner rock energy. It's gritty - I always found BS a little absurd—but that's part of the charm. The lyrics do hold up surprisingly well; “Changes” in particular flooded me with the emotion (maybe it was the PMS). But also, listening made me smile - it took me back—summer break at my friend Liz’s house, smoking weed and spinning her mom’s old Sabbath records. We’d belt out the songs in our grungiest deep-metal-dude voices, collapsing in laughter on piles of laundry. Liz was a total chaos queen—one of the messiest people I’ve ever known. Black Sabbath was fitting.

A real DeezzzNutzzz manifesto.

I enjoyed this album—it’s a bit on the long side, but it holds enough variety to stay engaging. Had a few standout tracks I’d happily keep in regular rotation. Overall it gave me a playful and welcome escape from the reality of modern life.

Tim Buckley’s Goodbye and Hello is delicate and expressive - he leans into a poetic, spoken-word style that feels intimate and expansive. However, at times, it was a bit like wandering through a psychedelic renaissance fair: flowers, feathers, leather pouches, and caravan dreamscapes. There’s a youthfulness to his writing—profound and tender maybe beyond his years and its heartbreaking knowing how short his life was. I hadn’t realized Beth Orton had covered him until the lyric “You can’t swim my waters if I can’t walk your land” surfaced—such a gorgeous and sorrowful line. That sentiment lingers.

I knew nothing going in on this listen. While it is not something I personally would listen to, he has undeniable talent - his craftsmanship, emotional range, and sonic choices are clearly intentional and refined.

Dusty Springfield’s voice is some velvet soul wrapped in mod magic. I felt like I’d been whisked back to ’64…captures so much of that generation - eyeliner, emotion, and a heart wide open vibe sung in her polished soulful pop way. A forever legend - she shared some bangers that still shimmer today.

Elliott Smith one of the og alternative indie artists known for that whispery vocal style was easy enough to listen to and certainly had undeniable instrumental talent. He captured a very PDX 90’s melancholy mood, which is when and where I first heard him. But overall this album didn’t entirely connect for me - commercially, maybe it was more dialed in but I had enjoyed the more intimate content and style of some of earlier work. Still, a few tracks instantly transport me back to my 19 year old self riding through SW PDX in my friend’s orange VW bus, en route to the river, watching the landscape blur past the window. I can still see my reflection and those words etched on the side mirror: “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.”

You can tell these guys were really enjoying themselves back in the day. Take Five is exactly what comes to mind when I think of jazz—and for what it is, it’s pretty much perfect. I don’t usually reach for this kind of music, but I get the appeal: the contrasting sounds, unexpected rhythms, and that signature contra beat. The way it blends these elements into a cohesive, wordless narrative is impressive. It captures a lyrical experience without a single word. This kind of jazz always feels like a cinematic stroll through Central Park - smooth, stylish, and full of character.

This album carries immense emotional weight. Each track delivering a sense of unease; heartbreaking lyrics paired with intentional instrumentation that sinks under your skin. The despair is pretty palpable, almost suffocating, yet there’s a haunting beauty in its sorrow and the sound is just so perfect. Raw and unforgettable, Closer feels like a devastating and timeless farewell.

Van Morrison reminds me a bit of a male version of Jodi Michelle - talk-singing with a slightly whiny edge to the voice. His sound is steeped in blues, folk, soul, all wrapped in a distinct 1970’s bohemian renaissance faire aesthetic …feathers, whistles, bells, flutes, leather satchels, moccasins, long hair and dreamcatchers. It’s definitely transportive. I usually like a lot of instrumentation and layered sounds, but the polyphony felt a little much for me. That said, the more I listened, the more it did grow on me, (a little), and I can understand his impact and the stylistic niche he carved out. I don’t know that I’ll be listening to this particular album again, but there is something that can quietly pull you in.

There is a part of me that has flicker of nostalgia for loud, screamy, slightly obnoxious punk sounds. And this album sort of took me back to that feeling of walking into a shitty grange haul, garage rock blaring, with sweaty smelly boys flailing around. And for that reason I kind of get it. Would I listen to this now on the regular? Probably not. But I can see how, at that time, it may have captured a certain kind of messy youthful energy worthy of exploring…

This was definitely an album I had on heavy rotation in the late ’90s. Total time capsule. I’m pretty sure our friend Sam had THE car in our group - his beloved Honda Accord - and he was obsessed with Smashing Pumpkins, so naturally it was always playing on every drive we took. It’s wild to think back on that era. I remember feeling so restless, so unsatisfied—convinced that adulthood would somehow make everything click into place. But looking back now, even with all that teen angst and dramatic gloom, life was… kind of perfectly imperfect. We all worked at pizza joints, lived with our best friends, had lazy river days, scraped together money for party weekends, and let music soundtrack it all…especially the kind that spoke directly to the chaotic, yearning pulse of it all. I think if there was a door to go back and do it again, I would maybe just walk through.

I’ve always had a deep love for shoegaze - there’s something about being wrapped in that dreamy, moody swirl of sound that just feels cozy. It’s like a sonic smoothie: effortless, a little hazy, yet still rich and lush. This genre really shaped so much of my early musical taste and this album was one that likely made an impact both on me and much of what I came to love. Wild to think how one distinct style can ripple out and influence an entire universe of sound.

From the very first listen, I found myself craving a cigarette. Second listen I nearly stopped to buy some… I don’t smoke. So yeah, this album hit a nerve…an edgy, unsettled feeling in my gut that few records manage to stir. Leonard has that rare power to evoke a visceral reaction, pulling me into places so raw and truthful it’s almost unnerving - yet intoxicating, leaving me a bit breathless. I would have loved to listen to this under a full moon, though instead I played it a second time through on my cloudy drive to the sea. It was no less moving the second time through. His voice, so haunting, wraps around every lyric; the opening of the album feels like a doorway into another world where he is communing with God and the ending arrives too soon…still it lingers, unsettled, and leaves you carrying the feels long after the last note fades.

This has a varied stylistic approach which I can appreciate - some lended a little too much of that ‘easy listening rock’ territory for me but the strength of the lyrics and the clarity of the overall sound make up for it. There’s a clear creative vision behind it, and the instrumental style - rooted in that classic English rock sensibility I’ve always been drawn to - really shines through. After a few listens, it definitely started to grow on me and will likely keep a few tracks in rotation.

OutKast takes me back—their sound brought such a bright, feel-good energy to the genre, creating out a totally unique lane of their own. You can hear the joy, wild creativity and authenticity in every track. I always got the sense they were having an absolute blast making this music… and honestly, they seemed like they’d be a riot to hang out with.

Well well well, isn’t this just the peak of Boomer energy - full on dad jeans, a cold one, and the glory days of no seat belts - whats the worst that can happen? Ugh, this music - that’s what can happen.

Nah, not my jam. Too wispy for me.

Utterly one-of-a-kind and never to be repeated. The Cramps’ origin story is as outrageous as the music itself, and Songs the Lord Taught Us delivers it all—raw punkabilly bite, sultry graveyard swagger, and spooky, unholy rock energy. Yes. Full stop. Also, fun fact: the first time a guy went down on me, he was wearing a Cramps tee. True story.

I adore this album. The pacing, the sly lyrics, Lou Reed’s unmistakable voice…it’s all so perfectly crafted. My mom had this in her record collection when I was a kid, nestled along side her Led Zeppelin, and Pink Floyd albums. Sometimes she’d put Transformer on, crank the volume, and clean the house while dancing from room to room belting out the lyrics to ‘Walk on the Wild Side’. The lyrics, I thought were playful and a little mischievous but I didn’t quite grasp the meanings. But I love this memory of my mama singing through the house. I remember feeling sad when she later got deeply religi and all the rock records disappeared. Thank god (ironically) Lou Reed was never far from my own collection. My forever favorite? Satellite of Love.

Slayed? has its moments - some I dig, some carried on a bit long but maybe I listed to the ‘extended version?’ - however, there’s no denying it’s pure: that early, gritty rock ’n’ roll. The sound drips with glam rock bravado: long-haired guys, shirts off, strutting a quirky, almost femme edge; loud, scratchy vocals; and a brazen dose of sex appeal. It’s classic rock with irreverence baked in (intentionally misspelling songs etc) the kind of thing that clearly lit the fuse for plenty who came after. There’s a lot to appreciate here—a sweaty, stomping, no-apologies kind of rock listen that’s solid from start to finish.

While Automatic for the People was major in its reach and hugely influential during the genre’s heyday - especially in my own mid-90s “alt phase” - R.E.M. always felt like the adult in the room. There was this one older guy in high school who wore more billowing garments - often leaving his button up unbuttoned - and always danced in the in the rain without wearing shoes. He loved R.E.M. I, however, connected more with the energy of grunge / angst / punk acts at the time. Not that I dismissed it, but rather I’d never really ‘listened’ from start to finish, and after doing so, I did catch a few melodies looping in my head days later - a sign of its staying power. At times, the monotone melodic lean made me drift, but tracks like Sweetness Follows and the sly vocal delivery of Star Me Kitten are really beautiful. Everybody Hurts … who doesn’t get moved by that? And Man on the Moon may have been overplayed, but it’s still a classic.

I don’t want to ‘do that again’

There truly is no band like Radiohead. While I haven’t seen them live, I did catch Thom Yorke solo—and it felt less like a concert and more like stepping into a living sound experiment, equal parts performance and consciousness-bending art. His work stretches into raw, tense, sometimes uncomfortable spaces, but always with an honesty and intensity that cuts deep. This album isn’t one I return to often, yet listening through it twice this time I was struck by its haunting layers. It’s the kind of record that unsettles as much as it moves you—an album that challenges even as it resonates.

Well well well. We’ve arrived at Def Leppard. Truly, I. Never. Listened. To. This. Before. I mean, I’ve heard the music of course - out there floating around in the [hands waving about] cultural air - but did I ever LISTEN to this? No. And wow….what a 1983 ‘wild and free’ ride! Like burning house of pure ‘American Rock & Roll 1983’ energy. Strike a match and watch it go…what is the worst that can happen? Answer: A LOT of BIG HAIR STAGE PRESENCE, and BIG 80’s EMOTIONALLY EXPRESSIVE DUDE ENERGY! I will likely never listen to this again just because it is not at all my calling, or dharma as you say. But credit where it’s due - they absolutely did what they came here to do. As an artistic expression if their own, they nailed it…really crossed the finish line on their aesthetic of big hair, big riffs, and stage struts. Maybe I was a decade late. It just isn’t my vibe.

There’s some real psych-rock swirliness happening here, but it’s layered onto that a kind of back-country barroom grit which actually works if you’re into that vibe. I hadn’t realized how short Cream’s run as a band was, especially considering how massive their impact became. That alone is pretty impressive. The music feels like a lighter dose of something—not full-on mind-bending, but hazy, immersive, and very much of its era. It’s easy to hear how much of what came after was influenced by this style. A few tracks will definitely stick with me, though I did find myself wishing for a touch more rawness. What really works is the guitar style, the layered sound, that push-pull between tension and flow, and of course the smooth vocals melding it all together.

This is only the second Hendrix album I’ve stepped into on this 1001 journey, and yet again it feels like entering another dimension. His music is an atmosphere, a kaleidoscope of color that pours straight from the guitar - you almost see him painting the air with sound. There’s a dreamlike quality to it, but also a precision and clarity that makes every note feel alive. Each of the songs carry his boldness, but also an intimacy, as though the music is flowing directly from Hendrix’s soul. Bold as Love feels like his whole ethos…fearless, fluid, and deeply human. Standouts for me were You Got Me Floatin’, the delicate dreamscape of One Rainy Wish, and of course the kaleidoscopic sweep of Bold as Love. He certainly forms a trip that feels both cosmic and personal.

What I’ve realized on this 1001 journey is that music can’t be taken in passively. Some albums demand more than a background listen—they ask you to return, to sit a bit, and to absorb the subtleties that don’t land the first time around. That was the case with Queen of Denmark. On my initial listen, I didn’t get it. The pacing grated on me, and the lyrics felt distant. But giving it a second pass, I began to notice the unexpected pairings at play: a kind of melancholy wrapped in brightness, sorrow laced with wit. It’s not an album I’ll likely reach for again, but I’m glad I circled back—it revealed more than I expected once I gave it the space to.

Listening to this feels like stepping into a simpler time - when love could be expressed with wide-open sweetness. There’s a kind of Jack-and-Jane innocence running through the album, a youthful sincerity that’s charming even when it edges into the saccharine. At times it can feel a little over the top, but the heart behind it is undeniable. And it’s kind of cute, that little thing called love - and it’s captured freely here. Standouts for me were Sueno, Groovin’, You Better Run, and It’s Love. It’s the sort of album that begs to be played on a road trip, bringing its carefree mood along for the ride.

Ray Charles: a national treasure. I didn’t know how to interpret the name of this album at first, but while listening I began to understand it a little more….the modern take on country-western mixed with lounge vibes, and even some bluesy gospel influences for extra flavor. I’ve heard his classics, the ones we all know and love but this was my first run through this entire album, or two rather. And it was a fun swing. His emotional ballads are heartbreaking and you really want him to come out ok but that’s the hook and it’s a relatable one. He comes across as such a singular force in his delivery - it is clear why he is counted among the greats. The melding of his raw, edgy, slightly gritty voice in with the smooth, melodic instrumentals is intoxicating…makes one feel more romantic just by listening. He is smooth, polished, and a true romantic. He’ll always hold a beloved space in our collective hearts.

So smooth and sensual. I can appreciate the mass appeal, even if soul and R&B were never my go-to listening—they’ve always leaned a bit too “easy” for my taste. That said, Stevie is a phenomenon, fully deserving of his place in music history. This album also reminded me of my friend Karlene - I lived with her for a summer in Marina Del Rey. She’d blast Stevie at full volume while cooking up a big Italian feast—singing into a sauce-covered spoon as if it were a microphone. She’s a classic, with a deep love for R&B, and I probably absorbed much of this album alongside her.

A very artful and creative expression of life’s simplicities: mundane yet profound. The references through much of the album center around the New York and the stories feel like they could have inspired the Humans of New York project. The music serenades the soul through visual stories of the human journey. From the joyous innocence and playfulness of youth, to the spring of life, on through changing of leaves, and finally the quiet winter - the beauty remains present at each stage. Simon certainly had a way of weaving a colorful tapestries of story, creating collective experience both honest and deeply connected. I thought about my grandparents during two tracks and felt a bit emotional. I have to admit, at age 19, I had a major crush on Garfunkel. Sure, he was more the ‘looks’ of the two and not the songwriter but I dunno … the beatnik turtleneck and curly hair were totally my jam.

A Tribe Called Quest was on heavy rotation in my late 90’s house party scene in PDX. Their music always brought a bit of a brightness…good vibes, and I admired their unapologetic approach and spoken-word style, which stood in contrast to a lot of the other hip hop dominating the time. I remember being both shocked and encouraged when they tackled taboo subjects like date rape and abortion - topics that my generation (and others) were quietly navigating. For me, Tribe bridged a gap as entertainment as much as music for human connection. They offered a [me] perspective that felt real when so much of rap’s ‘lifestyle’ image felt distant and didn’t always land. They carried a confidence, style and clever turns of phrase that I always found charming. Along side De La Soul, they were among the favorites that truly informed my ‘hip hop’ tastes.

The Beatles…well, what can I really add that hasn’t already been said? They’re easily one of the most important bands of all time - and personally, I adore them. As for how this particular album stacks up to their others, I’m not sure yet. Maybe this will be the motivate me to listen through their discography in order, to really follow the full Beatles journey. What always strikes me is how much of their music I can sing along to without even trying. I rarely remember lyrics unprompted, yet with the Beatles, the words are there in my brain. I don’t listen to them all the time, but the songs are simply there—in the ether, everywhere, all the time, rent free but I don’t mind. Listening to this reminded me of the movie Yesterday, where a man wakes up after a major injury to find no one else remembers the Beatles. He starts playing their songs, and the world is instantly there for it. Honestly, it feels believable - like across any dimension, the Beatles would still be a hit. My own first real introduction to the Beatles came when I was 13, on what turned out to be my last outing with a church group. My mom sent me - probably hoping it would curb my rebellious streak - and I ended up traveling with the Pathfinders to La Paz, Mexico. On the very first bus ride out of Paradise, CA, someone handed me a Beatles tape for my Walkman. I listened to it on repeat all the way down the coast, onto the ferry to the peninsula, and again all the way home. It was Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band - and I loved it.

Who doesn’t love a long intro full of industrial distortion, anchored by a good dose of tambourine? This is a uniquely artful offering - atmospheric, trippy, surreal, even a bit dada-esque. Noise layered upon noise, and then more noise layered in. Yet, its held together in a pretty compelling way. I was not familiar with Faust before this but enjoyed it overall - particularly, the intro Krautrock, Lauft…Heisst… , and Piano Piece on disk two.

PJ Harvy delivers a pretty timeless album - her style of weaving incredible lyrical prose with unmistakable vocals is solidly achieved here. The album is poetic…an exploration of history, war, and national identity. Tracks that stood out for me: “The Glorious Land” strangely upbeat and almost celebratory sharply contrasts the unsettling lyrics. “All and Everyone” is hauntingly beautiful, carrying the weight of war while also feeling deeply personal. “On Battleship Hill” carries an old-world folk tone, opening gently and with a surprising brightness. Yet the lyrics are stark and brutal. Then, the piano rises and transforms the sound into something pretty transcendent - I got chills both times I listened to this. Overall, this album is edging with sorrow and Harvey manages to transform the subject matter into something profoundly moving.