I didn't expect to hate this. While KOL has never done much for me, and I really don't like "Sex on Fire" song, I don't have hostility toward them. At least I didn't until today! I couldn't wait for this to end. They're clearly good at what they do, but what they do is not my thing.

This is pretty great, not that I'll pretend it's something I'll put on regularly. But it's surprisingly melodic and easy for my brain to follow.

Does anything else need to be said about the Beatles?

I don't think I've ever listened to this album. When these guys blew up, I was at the peak of my punk stridency, and Oasis' rockstar bullshit was anathema to me (and I didn't think their songs backed up their egos). I also was also on Team Blur during the completely-invented-by-the-British-media rivalry between Blur and Oasis. I've softened since; I listened to the 20th anniversary edition of (What's the Story) Morning Glory a bunch of times when it came out, though I haven't gone back to it. All that said, this album still gets a shrug from me. The songs are too long for what they are—"Live Forever" would be so much better if they chopped a minute off—and the lyrics have no shortage of clichés. It's totally fine mid-'90s Britpop. I don't say this often, but 1994 me was on the right track.

To paraphrase what I wrote about the Revolver, what more can be said about Rumours?

To paraphrase The Onion: Humanity still producing new arts as though Metallica’s ‘...And Just for All’ doesn’t already exist

I've often wondered if I missed the boat on this band. Maybe not!

Well, it's easier to listen to than anything else with "Ono" in its name.

These dudes were huge among the cool indie set back in the ‘90s, but never really hooked me. Like the other album of theirs I own, this is fun but not something I seek out.

Whoa, first time I've listened to a song on my own that popped up later on the day's album selection. (My daughter played "Deceptacon" in the car in the morning.) I like Le Tigre a lot, but this album's hit or miss. Among the cred-conscious, this will be a controversial take, but I think their major-label album (This Island) is better.

I bought this on CD 20+ years ago, listened to it once, found it boring, and haven't touched it since. Now I think it kinda rules?

I think my affection for "Money for Nothing" and "Walk of Life" is due more to their ubiquity during my childhood than really LIKING those songs, because I found this album to be a SLOG. The songs are needlessly long—"Why Worry?" into "Ride Across the River" is just brutal—with production that makes no mystery of when it was made. That's doesn't have to be a bad thing, but it didn't help this, either.

I respect Bonnie Raitt as an artist, but this does nothing for me.

This started slow for me but hooked me (?) with the shattering loss at is center. I remember this album coming out and hearing about its inspiration, but it's even more brutal than I expected. Songs like "Ghosteen Speaks," "Ghosteen," and "Hollywood" are almost unbearably sad, particularly "Ghosteen Speaks." The first songs, which reference Jesus and Mary, etc., felt laborious, but the rest cuts like a goddamn dagger.

This could be about five songs shorter & a whole lot stronger. The best songs are great ("Connection," "Stutter," "Never Here") but there's plenty of forgettable stuff on here. And they only wrote "Connection" by shamelessly ripping off Wire's "Three Girl Rhumba," then having to pay that band for doing so. FUN STORY: I bought this in the summer of 1995 at Best Buy with Sponge's Rotting Piñata. When the clerk looked at my ID (I must've paid by check?), she goes, "You used to be so cute. What happened?" Then proceeded to talk to me about Jesus.

I typically hit my limit with the Smiths (or, specifically, Morrissey) pretty quickly, but I pretty much enjoyed this from start to finish. While Moz is an icon, he's one who seems intent on tarnishing his legacy as much as possible. At least Johnny Marr has only burnished his legacy with interesting projects and music, and the guitar sound he created in this band set the template for so many who followed.

Growing up in the punk scene, I always thought these guys were buffoons. (The "Breaking the Law" video didn't help.) I'm less judgmental these days, and this album is fun, though probably not something I'd return to much.

Let me know when Rock for Light is the choice of the day.

Man, why have I spent literal decades thinking the Stone Roses weren't my thing? Especially because I love bands like Ride, the Charlatans, etc.? This album is great.

This is very pleasant. The bluesier stuff didn't land for me, but there's a lot to like on here—especially the opening track, "Sunflower." I need to dig into Weller's discography.

A lot of groundbreaking albums can sound a little flat when you go back to them decades later. This is a foundational text in my beloved punk rock, though I always respected the Ramones more than I actually liked them. "Blitzkrieg Bop" is an undeniable classic, and "Judy is a Punk" is awesome, though I can more or less skip the rest of this album and stick to the hits.

As iconic as this album is (particularly the cover), I remember it dragging. I still think it drags a bit, but it's essential listening (and cohesive if nothing else). "Disorder" is probably my favorite, though "She's Lost Control" and "Shadowplay" are among their greats.

I'd forgotten just how much this falls off a cliff, but what struck me most this time around was how old-fashioned it sounds—not in 2025, but even in 1988. Songs like "Something Like That" sound like straight-up crew party rap from the '70s. (Compare this to what the Bomb Squad was doing on Public Enemy's It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, released two months earlier.) Then there's whatever "Something 2 Dance 2" is, and they smartly bury it at the end of the album. "Straight Outta Compton" is an unimpeachable classic, and "Fuck Tha Police" is right up there too, but you can stop listening after "Gangsta Gangsta" (or, if you're feeling generous, skip ahead to "Express Yourself," then stop).

Me in 1991: "Can't wait for the RHCP show!" Me in 2025: "JFC this album won't end." These guys have been at it a million years and are good at what they do (well, Kiedis is debatable), but what they do grates on my nerves. "Give It Away" doesn't bother me as much as the rest, so that's something, I guess.

This was an instant sensation when it came out in 2005, and I always appreciated its artistic ambition. (Stevens planned to give EVERY state the album treatment.) I've only returned to a handful of songs over the years, though, probably because the album's a little twee. "Chicago" is chief among them, not just because it's my home, but also because it's the best song. This album is such a big swing, and I appreciate it more as a cohesive artistic work now than I did back in 2005.

This is the kind of dopey—literally and figuratively—hard rock my punk forefathers rebelled against in the '70s. You could call it clichéd, except this album helped establish those clichés! All that said, I've got no beef with this. It gets wanky and deeply silly ("Space Truckin'"), but the classics on here have endured for a reason.

Bob Dylan's an icon who's adored by millions of people and has influenced generations of musicians. I'm not among either group. I appreciate what he's done and where this album stands in music history, but it does nothing for me.

I like big band music quite a bit, though I have to be in the mood for it. (I used to whip out my four-disc Glenn Miller Orchestra collection during stressful times at my first job.) The more staid tracks on here ("Tea for Two," "Take the 'A' Train") are fine, but I loved the ones where the band is really hot, baby, hot ("Diminuendo in Blue," "Skin Deep"—that drum solo, dios mio—"Tulip or Turnip"). This is a formidable performance by an icon and a neat time capsule.

I'm starting to realize I should've been listening to Sabbath a lot more all these years.

I think I like this a bit more than Strangeways. Enjoyable from start to finish. But I find it perplexing that Johnny Marr found Kirsty MacColl's original backup harmonies so "weird" that he instead pitched up Morrissey's own vocals for something that sound distractingly weird. Have some respect for the woman behind "Fairytale of New York," dude.

I was surprised by how much I liked this. Although it gets a little same-y as it progresses, there's plenty to enjoy here.

Just like with the Sugar Cubes, I appreciate Björk for than I actually like her music. She's a singular artist across the board—her voice, her art, her personality, all of it. There's no mistaking her. It's just not my thing on an album level. I'll pop "Big Time Sensuality" on a playlist & be good. (That said, I started listening to 1995's Post after this one finished.)

This is first time I've listened to an album a second time because it seemed like it should be my thing. While James Dean Bradfield's vocals aren't my favorite—maybe because they're in a higher register?—there's so much to like here. The second listen confirmed that I liked this, particularly the stretch that starts with "Australia" and goes through the end of the album. This was a lovely surprise. I'm now following Manic Street Preachers on Spotify, just a year before they celebrate their 40th anniversary. Better late than never.

This is the classic reaction album, zagging where Rumours zigged. I like the subdued mood, but some songs sound incomplete or unfinished. (Double albums are dangerous.) The ones that feel fully fleshed out—like "Sisters of the Moon"—are pretty great, though.

I always like being introduced to noteworthy artists I've never heard of, even when their music is far from my thing. And Shleep is most definitely not for me. I found it relentlessly laborious, though it picked up at the end with "Blues in Bob Minor" and the ambient closer "The Whole Point of No Return." I actually kinda liked (or at least disliked less) a track from another album Spotify started playing after this one, so maybe I can find some Robert Wyatt stuff that's closer to my thing.

Well, it was worth giving this another try, even though the verdict hasn't changed: not my thing. "Gloria: In Excelsis Deo" is great, though it's partly a cover. Shout out to my younger self, who bought the two-disco deluxe version of Horses, listened to it once, then never played it again.

Revisiting this for the first time in, like, 15 years made one thing crystal clear: Big Boi's side is much stronger than Andre 3000's. It's kind of crazy that it takes the latter 3 tracks to really get going, and even then it's in no hurry. "Hey Ya!" sticks out for being a concise, focused pop song, because the Love Below is otherwise meandering and loooong (21 tracks?!). Speakerboxxx has lots of bangers and its own share of artistic flourishes, whereas the Love Below basically has "Hey Ya!" That was a nuclear bomb of a song, so maybe it all balances out?

Chrissie Hynde has never done much for me, though I recognize the Pretenders' place in rock history (and Hynde's role in the early punk scene in the UK). That said, I liked this more than I expected, probably because it's much closer to punk and post-punk her later stuff. While the songs blend together after a while for me, it was nice to be introduced to songs other than "Brass in Pocket" that I may return to in the future. ("Mystery Achievement" is great.)

Norah Jones is clearly very talented and good at what she does, but what she does has no effect on me. Well, that's not true. I find it tedious. To my brain, this album sounds like different versions of the same song repeated over and over. It's not a bad song—I liked "Nightengale" most—but it's not my thing.

I haven't listened to this in a while, but it's as charming as ever.

I find Radiohead's music to be pretty bloodless, especially post-Kid A/Amnesiac. OK Computer is where they started veering in that direction, but it feels more human to me. I've never been much of a fan, and the hype that followed this album (and the lead up to Kid A) was a turnoff. That said, there's a reason OK Computer is such a landmark, and I found it more enjoyable this time around.

Funny enough, I listened to this a couple months ago on my own volition, and I've been meaning to watch the new docuseries about Billy Joel. Although I loathe "Piano Man"—thankfully not on this album—I'm not reflexively anti-Joel. "Only the Good Die Young" is great, I like "Movin' Out," and "Just the Way You Are" may be sentimental, but it works. That summarizes Billy Joel in general. There's always a good amount of cheese, but he makes it work for the most part.

There are nearly 1,100 albums on this list, so why do we need to cram so many Smiths ones in so early? This one is fine. And the song "Meat is Murder" offers a glimpse into the insufferable prig Moz became.

This is pretty great. I've never had anything against Jimi Hendrix—I got the greatest hits from BMG a million years ago, for what that's worth—but I really appreciated the deeper cuts and other songs I haven't heard a million times.

The title track is still great, and the rest of this is...fine. It feels much longer than an hour.

Aside from the synthy "Save the Life of My Child" and the spoken-word interlude of "Voices of Old People," this is pretty much what I expected. Which means it's not my thing. "Mrs. Robinson" is of course a classic, but I wish there were more like "Save the Life of My Child."

I audibly groaned when this popped up. With the standard caveat that Sinatra's an icon yada yada, this does very little for me. I was just relieved that it's only 45 minutes.

To damn this with faint praise, I liked it more than Brothers in Arms. It's still not my jam, and Mark Knopfler's playing just isn't my thing. That's not to take away from his incredible talent, though, and there's a reason "Sultans of Swing" has 1.5 BILLION plays. I'm glad this is out there.

I always appreciate being introduced to artists I know literally nothing about, even when it turns out not to be my thing. This is perfectly pleasant but also pretty forgettable.

The smooth sounds of Sade are pleasant enough, but time has damned it to the kind of light, jazzy music that soundtracks any number of public spaces. Put "Smooth Operator" on a playlist, and you're good to go.

It's been a minute since I've listened to this, but revisiting it confirmed my memory of it being...fine. It's bookended by two undeniable classics, with "Baba O'Riley" remaining the Who's high point (even with being massively overplayed). And "Bargain" is solid. But the rest isn't nearly on the same level.

I've never listened to this album, but I've heard it. So many of these songs are part of rock's DNA that they're almost impossible to have missed. I spent my adolescence and early adulthood deeply hostile to Led Zeppelin as the embodiment of clichéd cock-rock. I'm mostly indifferent toward them these days, but I liked this more than I expected. It's not something I'll likely revisit, though, and I never need to hear "Stairway to Heaven" again.

I know nothing of this band, but their Wikipedia page is an entertaining read. I liked more of this than I expected ("Street Worm" especially), but I wouldn't say it's my thing.

Did my brain think Panda Bear when it saw the cover? Yes. Was I dreading an album full of Animal Collective-style bleepy-bloopy bullshit? Yes. Was I relieved that this was Grizzly Bear instead? Yes. Did I enjoy it? Not particularly. This album was huge with some of my co-workers when it came out, but its charms were lost on me. Not much has changed since. "Two Weeks" is fine, and there are other moments here and there. Hey, at least it's not Panda Bear!

This is fine. I probably prefer IV, in part because Physical Graffiti seems to go on and on and on. This has moments, but LZ just isn't my thing.

The more I've explored the Stones' catalogue, the more I've realized I'm fine with the hits. Obviously "Sympathy for the Devil" is one of the most iconic rock songs of all time, and "Street Fighting Man" is one of their great songs. The rest are good to hear, but won't bring me back. Well, maybe "Stray Cat Blues" to marvel at how problematic it is.

Kudos to CCR for being prolific enough to put out three albums in 1969, but maybe this one doesn't belong on the list? The iconic "Proud Mary" notwithstanding, there are two overlong slogs here ("Graveyard Train," "Keep on Chooglin'") and an inessential cover of "Good Golly Miss Molly." I'll take "Born on the Bayou" and "Proud Mary" and skip the rest. (And arguably Ike & Tina own "Proud Mary.")

Way back in HS, a friend told me I should check out the Young Gods, and now I know why. My adolescent self was neck-deep in Ministry, Skinny Puppy, Nine Inch Nails, and the like, and this would've been right up his alley (except for the vocals). I still like that stuff though, and this definitely perked up my ears a few times (except for the vocals).

Legit question: Would I like this band if Anthony Kiedis weren't in it? Because musically there's stuff on here I appreciate, and these dudes are obviously all excellent players. Then there's Kiedis. Oh well. I liked "Otherside" for the most part! That's something, right?

I only really know Pills 'N' Thrills And Bellyaches, so it's nice to dig into Happy Mondays more. I liked this, even though it all starts to sound the same after a while. And I will take this opportunity to once again quote 24 Hour Party People: Tony Wilson: You know, I think that Shaun Ryder is on a par with W.B. Yeats as a poet. Yvette: Really? Tony Wilson: Absolutely. Totally. Yvette: Well, that is amazing, considering everyone else thinks he's a fucking idiot.

This was my most anticipated album of 1990. I loved It Takes a Nation of Millions of to Hold Us Back and had been playing "Fight the Power" on a loop from the Do the Right Thing soundtrack. "Fight the Power" is one of the greatest songs of all time, "Welcome to the Terrordome" slays, and there's plenty of good stuff on here ("Brothers Gonna Work It Out," "Burn Hollywood Burn," Who Stole the Soul?" etc.). There's also a good amount of filler, and luckily my young self didn't understand the sickening homophobia of "Meet the G That Killed Me." Chuck & Flav should've known better, and that song is a stain on this album. Otherwise it's awesome.

I'd forgotten how many hits were on this album. That run from "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" through "All Through the Night" is amazing—the rest of the album can't help but pale in comparison, though "Money Changes Everything" is pretty great.

Psst..hey, budding music cognoscente. You're fine with the Velvet Underground's greatest hits. They'll pluck "Pale Blue Eyes" and "Beginning to See the Light" from this album, which works. If what we'll very loosely call "hits" hook you, then take a deep dive into the albums. You may also discover, like I did long ago, that a little Lou Reed goes a long way.

The Spinal Tap-esque album cover lets you know what's in store: '70s hard rock that's supremely dopey (again, literally and figuratively) but totally fun. Parts of this album play like a caricature of bloated '70s rock, only this is the BASIS of said caricatures. As much as I appreciate my punk-rock forefathers revolting against this kind of thing, I also appreciate the dumb fun.

Man, 12 songs, 28 minutes, and seismic. I've never listened to this before, but two things struck me: 1) how many songs I didn't know, and 2) how unpolished the album is. The songs sound so different based on their recording session, you can't hear each instrument clearly, etc. I believe it was all recorded live in the room, which I love. There's nothing left to say about Elvis, but it's fascinating to listen to this debut and hear where it all started.

My most anticipated album of 1989. I was a massive Cure fan, so I couldn't wait for this to come out. While I loved it, I found it to be a bit of a slog toward the end. I still think it's overlong, but it's also full of some of their best work.

Aside from "Forever For Her (Is Over For Me)," this is a steady descent after "Blue Orchid." You can hear the White Stripes pushing the boundaries of their sound, but none of that lands quite like when they stick to what they do best.

I used to listen to this album a lot the way Miles Davis intended: as background music while I studied in college. Listening to it while working almost 30 years later probably isn't any better. But I remember this well, even though it blends together in my pedestrian brain. Obviously it's a landmark album, and it has a one of best titles of all time.

Some people have a genetic predisposition that makes cilantro taste like soap to them. I think I have a genetic predisposition that makes Dylan's music sound terrible to me. As part of my due diligence as a music fan & critic, I bought Blonde on Blonde on CD 20+ years ago. I listened to it once and never played it again, and now I remember why: I kind of hate it. While I respect Dylan's place in the pantheon of popular music, I was checking how much time was left by track three. (Answer: too long.)

I haven't listened to this in a while, and when I do, I always think I should revisit it more often. Obviously there's a LOT going on here, and I appreciate its sprawling, overdriven ambition. I should've gone to see these guys when I had the chance.

The Band is another group whose achievements and place in history I respect, even if I'm not terribly interested in listening to their music. I know "The Weight," of course, but I'd probably change the station if it came on the radio. That goes double for "I Shall Be Released." Otherwise this is...fine.

I was just thinking I need to go through the Gorillaz discography, so this is well timed. This is fun, if slight—which I guess has always been the point of Gorillaz.

While I never had anything against the Black Keys (other than Patrick Carney coming off like kind of a dick sometimes), I never had any interest in listening to them, either. This is better than I expected, though I wonder how much of that is my affinity for the source material. "Never Gonna Give You Up" could've been a Stax song in the '60s, for instance. But this is enjoyable regardless, even if it's not something I'm likely to seek out.

As 15-year-old white Catholic middle-class kid, I discovered Legend. Thus began a short, intense, and deeply embarrassing Bob Marley phase. How embarrassing? I named my first car Bob Marley. "That's not so bad," you say. That's because I haven't mentioned the rastacap I wore on a regular basis. Or my hoodie with "yeah mon"-esque messaging that was undoubtedly inadvertently racist. It is my personal mission to destroy all evidence of this period of my life, which includes eliminating any friends who remember it. While I listened to Legend a million times—"Buffalo Soldier" still rules—I never dove into Marley's catalogue. I'm thankful not to hear the overplayed hits on this (save "No Woman No Cry"), but this felt repetitious. I liked "Lively Up Yourself" and "Them Belly Full," but much of this receded into the background for me. Sorry for letting you down, 15-year-old Kyle. I'm rounding up in your honor.

I reflexively bought the fancy version of this album when it came out, then probably listened to it once or twice, before selling it to Amoeba before I moved. That said, this is a step up from the bloodless, distant Hail to the Thief. In Rainbows isn't hooky per se, but it has more moments that at least qualify as grabby or adjacent to grabby. With Radiohead, that's about all you can ask for.

This is a gloomy listen, and it sounds like the making of it was fraught to say the least. I missed this one during my peak Cure-listening years, so I appreciated the history lesson, even if it's not something I'd put on for funsies.

Willie Nelson is a justly revered icon, and I appreciate his desire to revisit the songs he loved when he was young. This is pleasant, but I disagree that I needed to hear his take on 10 standards before I die.

"1999" and "Little Red Corvette" are among the greatest songs of all time, and "Delirious" is fun, but this album steadily, precipitously drops from there. It drags, but at least it's never boring. It also has enough WTF elements (the sexy moaning in "Lady Cab Driver," the weird police-radio talk of masturbation in "All the Critics Love U in New York") to keep you guessing.

This is a seismic album in my life. I forget how I came across Public Enemy as an adolescent, but this was their most recent release at the time. To hear everything they talk about on this album (and the liner notes, which I read cover to cover) as a 12- or 13-year-old middle-class white kid from Texas? It blew my goddamn mind. It was provocative, kinda scary, and thrilling, and I can still hear why when I revisit it. "Louder Than a Bomb" remains my favorite, and this album has so much good stuff on it (and a relatively light amount of filler). In short, this rules. What DIDN'T rule was seeing them perform this album in full at the Pitchfork Music Festival in 2008. Chuck and Flav rapped over full backing tracks—with vocals. Flav wasn't even there for the first song, but his vocal track was. After he finally showed up, he was booed when he plugged his supremely awful sitcom. Years later I would go onto work with the guy who created it, and he too was supremely awful.

This may be the first album on here where I'd never heard of the artist or any of the songs. You could've showed me the cover and told me it was from A Mighty Wind, and I would've believed you. These guys weren't a folk band, though, and what they were is harder to pin down. Which I appreciate, even if I found this more interesting/perplexing than "good."

I've never been a Neil Young fan, but I liked this album. After reading the Wikipedia about it, maybe I prefer the stripped-down, less produced version of Young this album captures. And normally I wouldn't be psyched for a nine-minute album closer, but "Ambulance Blues" is great. It's a new day, y'all.

I had it in my head that Louis Prima was a crooner, and I was happy to be wrong. While I recognized several of these songs, listening to all of them together left me thinking a couple things: 1) Louis Prima probably knew how to have a good time, and 2) he could hang with the big-band dudes and crooners, but this music feels looser and more personality-forward. I can totally see this killing in early Vegas. I bet he was a fun, boozy hang back in the day.

I wasn't expecting Dinosaur Jr. vibes on a Neil Young & Crazy Horse album, but I'm into it. This was all new to me except for "Over and Over," which I knew because Blake Babies used to cover it. I like loud, ragged Neil Young, even as this album kind of peters out as it progresses.

I wondered if Venom were on the PMRC's radar back in the day, and sure enough, they were among the original Filthy 15. But shockingly, not for "Teacher's Pet." I mean, this is tailor-made for a conservative freakout. Goat head and pentagram on the cover, numerous references to Satan, the occult, and virgin sacrifice, etc. Forty years later, it's all deeply silly, but the music still slays.

This could easily be half as long and be a front-to-back classic. But even at a bloated 20 tracks, there are enough bangers on here to make this one of the Beasties' best and an iconic album of the era. (And I appreciate the instrumentals more now than I did in 1994.) FUN FACT: They recorded this, and I think all of their '90s output, at a studio like five minutes from our place in LA. G-Son Studios, represent.

This is brainless party music, best enjoyed while rolling on ecstasy at a rave in 1995. It's a time capsule of mainstream electronic music 30 years ago, and I still like some of the beats and production.

Beck has never done much for me, but this was a pleasing enough way to spend an hour. All of the songs have that pastiche that Beck has made his signature, and I liked opener "E-Pro" the best. None of it feels especially deep or substantive, but I don't think that's the point, either.

I remember when this came out well. I was in fifth grade, and "Fight for Your Right" was massive. And I, even at that tender age, thought it sucked. It wouldn't be till Check Your Head that I came around on the Beasties. Nearly 40 years later, I still kinda hate this album. I can take "Paul Revere" and some other moments here and there, but as far as I'm concerned, the Beasties don't exist pre-Paul's Boutique.

I know very little about Badly Drawn Boy, but somewhere around when this album came out, it was imprinted on me that he was "the British Elliott Smith," and that has stuck in my mind in the decades since. Listening to this album, I can see it (especially "Say It Again"). This sticks around a little too long, but it's solid.

I listened to the Minor Threat discography roughly a million times in high school and had MINOR THREAT—written in Liquid Paper—on my backpack. The harDCore scene massively influenced me, much much more than the early punk of the '70s. It's unsurprising that music made by very young adults—not much older than I was when they made these songs—spoke to me so much, especially as a punk rocker who felt very much out of step with his classmates. These days, the stridency of Minor Threat is a lot, but I appreciate where they came from. Fugazi would have a more profound affect on me, but Minor Threat remains foundational.

I believe it's illegal to dislike Dolly Parton—and why would you anyway? Like her, this is so charming, but that's not all it is. She has the pipes, and this all comes from a real place. She's a national treasure for a reason.

I feel like this is that last Arcade Fire album that I really liked. I appreciate the mixed nostalgia for growing up in the burbs, and I suppose knowing the area of suburban Houston where Win Butler grew up helps too. (That cover photo might as well have been my house, though I was in the city, baby.) I liked this quite a bit when it came out, and revisiting it reminded me of lots of songs I liked, particularly the Régine-led ones. While Arcade Fire are a lot less exciting these days, this is a reminder of how formidable they can be.

Like most of the world, my introduction to UB40 came in the late '80s with their cover of Neil Diamond's "Red Red Wine." It wasn't until much later that I learned UB40 did something other than cover songs, and it wasn't until today that I actually listened to any of them. I love the socio-political themes here, which must've caused consternation in the UK at the time. But musically the album settles into a groove and basically stays there for an hour. It doesn't take long to get tedious, though I appreciated their take on "Strange Fruit."

Dinosaur Jr's cover of "Just Like Heaven" was one of the first songs of theirs I heard, and it didn't do much for me. I didn't get hooked til Green Mind (which was post-Lou Barlow), and even then my fandom was pretty limited. You're Living All Over Me may be considered a classic nearly 40 years later, but I probably fall more in line what Wikipedia describes as "critical indifference and low sales" to its release.

I'd never heard of this self-described "clit-rock" group, but I always like hearing bands that are huge elsewhere but not well known in the U.S. That's a little surprising to me, because Skunk Anansie would fit in well among various American/Canadian hard-rock acts doing the second-tier festival circuit. You know, the ones with other bands I don't like. While I found some parts of this interesting—and I always like seeing non-white dude-bros in this space—I was ready for Post-Orgasmic Chill (the album, not the phenomenon) to be over before it was.

I haven't listened to this front to back in years, but it was in my heavy rotation from about December 1991 and through 1992, until the overexposure burned me out on Pearl Jam. Revisiting it now, the hits still hit, and it fades toward the end as much as I remember (though I like "Release" more now). This may not get as much credit as Nevermind, but it was seismic all the same.

Over decades of listening to music, one thing I have definitively learned is that electric blues and blues rock are not my thing. As a child of the '80s, I only knew ZZ Top from the Eliminator era, and it wasn't until much later that I understood how far back they went (and that they're the ones who did that "how-how-how" song). Turns out I much prefer the stuff I saw on MTV, but the live version of "La Grange" is solid.

I barely know anything about Fela Kuti, so I know nothing about Fema Kuti. And I know almost nothing about afrobeat. So I'm basically a blank canvas. Once I settled into the songs, I enjoyed this much more than I expected. It's not necessarily something I'll put on, but I found plenty to like on here.

I know nothing of John Martyn, so this was an enjoyable surprise. "Dealer" had me expecting British yacht rock—and it's not NOT that—but that's a lazy descriptor. I'm not sure how to classify this, which seems to be a common thing for Martyn's music. I wouldn't have expected to like this, much less save a couple tracks on playlists, but here we are. I'm gonna check out some of his other stuff too.

1985's Love is a foundational text in the Kyle Ryan Alternative Awakening, but for whatever reason, I never really heard Electric. I was super psyched when Sonic Temple came out, even though it sounded so different. Electric would've eased the transition between Love and Sonic Temple for me. I prefer the gothier Love vs. the RAWK of Electric, Sonic Temple, and what followed, but I still like this. Ian Astbury has a great voice, though he's never had much to say lyrically, and Billy Duffy is one of the guitar greats. I would deduct a star for the inessential cover of "Born to Be Wild," but I'm not that petty.

I haven't listened to this in ages and had forgotten about all the songs I like on it. The video for "Dig for Fire"/"Allison" was a staple of 120 Minutes back when I watched religiously. "Velouria" is a classic. "Is She Weird," "The Happening," and "Stormy Weather" are fun. There's nothing on here I dislike.

This project keeps sending me Led Zeppelin albums and the same thing keeps happening: I don't like them. I thought their debut could have a better shot, because maybe it was rawer and the band hadn't yet gone fully up their own asses, but nope! There's still stuff on here I actively hate, like when they get slow and bluesy ("I Can't Quit You Baby," for instance). I liked the more rocking parts of "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You," but I still find Led Zeppelin insufferable. No thanks.

This was a big deal when it came out, and I remember many of my co-workers championing it. (We ranked it #12 on our year-end list.) It wasn't my thing then, and that hasn't changed. It's perfectly pleasant and impressively accomplished for a debut (especially one written by someone who was barely in their 20s), but this style of music just doesn't grab me.

X-Ray Spex is one of those early punk bands I missed for whatever reason. (Maybe the sax put me off?) That's a shame, because this should be Required Listening for all budding punk rockers. Maybe I have my history wrong, but this feels like a dispatch from the early, wider-open days of punk before orthodoxy took hold. It's a shame X-Ray Spex didn't stick around longer, but it's also kind of perfect that they didn't.