1001 Albums Summary

An agreeable enough time. Pub rock not of the leaden variety, but this is unlikely to be one that I'd be itching to return to. A tad rudimentary for me by current standards, and perhaps a bit too carefree and joyful sonically for my largely grubby tastes, although one where I can understand the appeal it would have harboured.

Billed as a "rock opera", I hadn't sat down with this album for a number of years prior to this morning, and it's been a welcome nostalgia trip back towards my preteen and teen days. A bit of an overblown concept tying the album together perhaps, but the songs here are undeniable. I'm still of the opinion that this would only have stood to benefit if "Wake Me Up When September Ends" rounded off the album, but numbers such as the title track and "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" have quite rightly earned their status as some of Green Day's most recognisable and widely renowned tracks.

I've quite enjoyed this album as my first exposure to any of the band's material. Its production is a big stand out for me - it boasts definition and provides a rock solid platform for the entrancing, spacious soundscapes which are aplenty here. This is very much a late 90's album in terms of its character and sound, but it translates well into the modern landscape too, with clear nods to shoegaze and hints of garage rock observable alongside the bendy, warpy psych-rock which takes the primary precedence. It's not all drifty here, however, with several tracks unafraid to dial up the energy a bit - notably "Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth" and "Cool as Kim Deal". Very keen to dig further into their catalogue going off this evidence.

An enjoyable experience from an artist I've never really checked out in any capacity. This very much has proto-progressive rock tendencies without being clearly identifiable as such, falling into a strange stylistic category of psychedelic pop rock which is that bit more challenging and unconventional than you'd expect. The songs take on a bittersweet, high-key yet bordering on melancholic approach, which is always a welcome juxtaposition. My main criticisms of the album would be that the production is somewhat suspect in patches - the vocals can become a bit scratchy/overbearing in the mix, and it does hit a bit of an impasse in its mid-section - "Student Demonstration Time" is a minor dud with these production issues becoming quite glaring.

This was an absolute joy, and of the albums I've dived into so far, probably the one I'm most likely to want to put on again immediately after the fact. Wonderful folk-soul relatively simple in its arrangements, but this is a shining beacon of strident positivity and wholesomeness. Love the funky bass lines and mischievous piano populated throughout the album, and Joan Armatrading commands such a presence vocally with a real swagger and pomp. There is also bountiful variety in simplicity here as to consistently retain my attention. Can't think of any significant criticisms for this one, it's gone onto my vinyl wishlist.

I am somewhat familiar with Beck, having heard Odelay once or twice (though I can't recall much from it). Everything else he's attested to is new to me, though. I liked a reasonable portion of this - mostly for the trippy/psych pockets it explores, and appreciated the experimentation throughout. The production, to its credit, has aged well, too, allowing the dreamy elements of the album to envelop the listener. However, it really did feel lengthy and like a struggle to get through in one sitting. I'm also unmoved by the vocals, which serve a purpose but don't really capture my imagination. I found my attention drifting a bit towards the middle, and couldn't immediately recall what I'd just heard prior, but "Hell Yes" reeled me back in again as a vastly different hip hop track with a classic 90s feel to it.

Not quite The Chemical Brothers' strongest offering, but a mightily impressive debut album wherein the group didn't wait around to firmly cast their imprint into the UK electronic music scene, and many acts have since borrowed its nuances, ensuring that it retains a significant legacy befitting of this list. Of their discography, this album does perhaps sound the most applicable to the mid 90s era, with a somewhat dated sheen to it, although not one which compromised my enjoyment whilst revisiting today.

Ahh, the banana album. I'd actually fairly recently revisited this prior to today's undertaking, so it has remained fresh in my mind. Fearless, unsettling, and weird yet strangely accessible in some respects, it would have been a travesty if this hadn't been an entry of the 1001. This was years ahead of its time, and it still sounds just as vital approaching 60 years later. Nico's contributions to the album only elevate the sense of eeriness and detachment evident throughout, still provoking debate to this day, although for my money they are just as crucial a component of its makeup as any of the unorthodox-of-the-time instrumentation. My Dad was a huge proponent of this album, released during his birth year of 1967, and it was one of the first records he ever purchased alongside the likes of Pink Floyd and Kraftwerk.

Van Halen are one of those bands where I'm familiar with their big singles, but I've never dived into their catalogue to any degree of depth, or had much of an urge to. Well, it would seem as though I've been missing out on such a fun time. In your face, arse-shakingly catchy, serotonin-soaked bangers aren't at a premium here, and whilst the second track "Eruption" could have proved to be a pretentious venture mere minutes into the album's running time if it wasn't as good as it actually is - fortunately, the solo-ing is absurdly good. Very much enjoyed this, and will be back again.

This is a serene, soulful jazz-fusion album, easy on the ears however lacking in the crazy, off-beat twists and turns which define my favourite albums and artists of the genre. It's also pretty damn long at 76 minutes in length, which I'm not entirely sure is fully warranted given what is explored (or not) across its running time. I can sometimes vibe with this sort of stuff, but I wasn't particularly in the mood for over an hour of it today, and I didn't last the course.

An album I'm already quite familiar with, and a listen which brought out all the emotions in me as Japan were one of my Dad's favourite bands. He essentially modelled himself on David Sylvian as a teenager, beyond just the looks. As far as the music goes, this was a notable stylistic shift for Japan in that the album pivots almost entirely away from the glam-post-punk type of sound which defined their earlier era, in favour of a more experimental art-synth pop direction. Japan were often associated with the new wave scene in terms of their aesthetics, broader appeal and links with other acts of the time, although that label doesn't do them anywhere near enough justice, particularly as you approach their last couple of albums. This is a surreal experience with a kind of nocturnal vibe hanging over it, although I'm somewhat surprised to see it in the 1001 over Gentlemen Take Polaroids or Tin Drum, if I'm honest.

It took a little while for this one to fully register with me, and even now, I have to be in a very specific mood to gravitate towards Funeral over other records in my collection (the first 1001 entry I've had which I own on vinyl, as of writing). However, when such an opportunity comes around, this is a sobering listening experience, conceptually focussed on themes of death and the loss of childhood innocence as a result (thanks Wikipedia, I'm not feeling particularly free-thinking this morning). The album encompasses a wide range of emotions which ensue from the grieving process - denial, resentment, acceptance and a sense of emptiness after the fact. Sonically, there is ample variety on offer and there are bountiful layers of depth to unpack - an indie rock album at its core, but with some artsy, chamber-esque nuances accentuating it. Win Butler's swooning, at times warbly vocals initially proved an obstacle in which I had to navigate, but I've since grown to appreciate them as a fine accompaniment to the album, oozing with believability.

I didn't hate this as much as I expected to, but even at only 27 minutes long, it felt like an eternity to get through. I'd like to think my musical palette is fairly diverse, however I have very little time for this type of "bandit country" music. I'm sure this was an important album in some way, shape or form as to find itself on this list (or am I?), but it's just too rudimentary by today's standards.

Not shite, but not really my go-to thing. Pleasant enough sonically but requires a specific mood. It goes a bit reggae at points, which amounted to the more interesting and uplifting aspects of the album. Thumbs in the middle from me, might re-evaluate down the line.

As soon as you hear the noodling, transcendent bass work on the opening track "Roundabout", you know you're in for a treat, and the quality never dips from therein for me. Quite rightly regarded as a classic, essential prog rock album, Yes would go one better on the following Close to the Edge for my money, but that's not to discredit how vital an album this is. Fragile is absolutely beaming with joy, with each member effortlessly gliding away on their respective instruments and relentlessly leaving you on your toes as to what might follow, courtesy of the freakishly executed erratic rhythms and mind-bending song structures throughout. I couldn't omit the brilliance of the flamenco guitar on "Mood for a Day" either, though, tugging at the heartstrings before the album concludes with an absolute whopper in "Heart of the Sunrise". I don't have this on vinyl, and that seriously needs to change.

I've never been a fan of Red Hot Chili Peppers at all, and an incomplete listen to this has done precious little to alter my opinion. I just find them really grating in both a musical and vocal sense, and Anthony Kiedis being a bit of a knob is well-documented by now, so nope, onto this week's new releases I go. Sorry, not sorry.

It's fine I guess, but there's just not enough of a USP on offer here for it to come anywhere close to justifying its place in the list. This is a decent enough blues album which relies heavily on many of the tropes associated with the genre, but it did get my feet tapping on occasion. Equally, however, there is some absolute tripe on here too, primarily in the form of "Rocking Chair" and everything that follows. Apparently, one mumbling, weary acoustic-led dirge of a track wasn't enough of a downer to end proceedings on, so instead we ended up with three of them for our sins. This album supposedly culminated in John Lee Hooker's peak chart success following a fallow 17-year period throughout his mid-career, but all I can ask is "why?".

Several tracks here were already familiar to me, however I'm less confident on whether I've actually sat through this album in one piece before, so this was effectively a new listen for me. An unhinged, constantly volatile and challenging experience, primarily rooted in blues rock however unafraid to dip its toes into garage and psychedelic territories. The end result is as impressive as it is disorientating, and at no point did I tire of this album as you simply can't tell what might be lying in wait for you next. Ultimately, however, it's an album that I'm unlikely to return to regularly. It's also fair to say that this is a relatively palatable effort two-years removed to Trout Mask Replica, another 1001 feature which I'm looking forward to revisiting and attempting to piece together.

This is alright, though I can't see it being something I'd be itching to come straight back to. Accentuated by some playful little bass lines and some uplifting jangling leads, there is also a sense of melancholy hanging over it via the themes conveyed throughout. However, much like with a couple of other albums I've listened to so far, this is perhaps a tad rudimentary to leave a significant impression on me. Possibly also not helped by a feeling of blues fatigue washing over me. [upgraded to 4⭐ on a subsequent revisit]

Going in, I was expecting this to be an entirely new one on me, as I didn't so much as recognise the band name or artwork. However, the opening track "Miss Judy's Farm" rang some bells in my brain due to being played at home over the years, and from there on in I had a fun time with this boogie rocker. A welcome and endearing injection of fun and positivity, I think this suffers ever so slightly when it aims for that "moving ballad" approach on a track such as "Debris". However, the keyboard work from Ian McLagan is unrelentingly radiant throughout the album, and whilst this isn't mind-bending stuff, I feel that this album is an example of making modesty and looseness count. Arse shaking riffage, coupled with Rod Stewart's raspy, charismatic vocal offering, gives the album a real hazy 1970s whisky bar quality to it.

Well, this is quite something, for better or for worse. I'm personally gunning for the "better" side of the equation. Imagine the likes of The Cure or Echo and the Bunnymen taking acid and deciding to throw the entire kitchen sink at it, with the majority of it sticking and the remainder at least posing thoughtful questions. This is a disorientating, suffocating listen at over 70 minutes in length, very intermittently affording some breathing respite when it dials things back a bit. However, this generally seeks to leave no crevice untouched, crafting panic-inducing walls of artsy, experimental new wave / post punk mayhem. Lush yet haunting in terms of its sound, the obvious touch points for the vocals would be Robert Smith, David Bowie and Bryan Ferry in that they have an operatic, sometimes over the top quality to them, draped in vulnerability. The sound and production quality is very of its time, however with enough dynamism in the latter to allow individual elements to come to the fore when the songs demand as such. The second half of the album generally felt a lot more optimistic in scope than the first, disregarding the instrumental bop of an opener in "Arrogance Gave Him Up" which offers no indication as to what follows. This absolutely demands more than just a single listen, and I will definitely be going back to try and unpack this to a greater extent. I feel like this could grow into something that I would hold in exceptionally high regard. For now though, this absolutely something you should hear before you die, even if just to satisfy a curious itch.

I'm m not in the slightest bit familiar with Joni Mitchell, however this album has got me very keen to explore further. Hejira in some ways acts as a fine juxtaposition to yesterday's listening via The Associates - this is one where the low-key sonic approach, on the surface of it, has provided a welcome change of pace. Whilst there aren't walls of sound to unpack here, what I did find impressive and most engaging about Hejira is the variety / complexity to the crooning melodies and instrumental patterns here, providing this album with a level of depth which isn't immediately apparent at first glance. There are undoubtedly jazzy qualities underlining this album, which I suppose you would broadly consider a "soft rock" or singer-songwriter effort. After wrapping up my listening, I noticed that a certain Jaco Pastorius features on the album as a bassist, who I'm also unfamiliar with but am aware is held in very high regard. Joni Mitchell's voice is wonderful, and unusually for a first listen on my part, I also caught onto a level of poetic, abstract beauty in the lyricism throughout. This is definitely high up on my list to revisit.

A very good album.

A peculiar case, this one, as the only Talk Talk album to feature in the 1001. I'd certainly consider Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock to be the superior and more realised efforts within their canon, although substantially less accessible. This album, however, does remain a hugely important piece of the puzzle, as a bridge between the band's self-derided synth pop beginnings to the experimental, proto-post rock direction of later albums. It more than deserves a place in the 1001, although it begs the question as to why either of the aforementioned two didn't make the grade, for their continued influence far beyond their original release schedules. The Colour of Spring, notably, largely does away with synthesizers, going for a much more organic sound which carves out its own space to an exponentially greater extent, and which exudes a much more staunch level of ambition and integrity. Frontman Mark Hollis, as far as I'm concerned, was a musical genius, with the variety and unpredictability apparent on this album (and much more so subsequent releases) accredited to the formation of post rock. His voice is truly captivating and magnificent, however the music speaks just as much throughout the pockets of sparseness it drifts into as it does during its more dense passages. Dark, brooding, hugely resonant atmospheres, disguised by optimistic keys and chords, are in ample supply here, with the incorporation of tambourine and the variophone on a track such as "April 5th" adding chilling layers of depth. This is one of those albums you could talk about all day. Excellent, nigh-on-perfect stuff, though again I'm perplexed as to why this is the only Talk Talk album to feature in the book.

These are a band which I have just never "got" at all. The drawling, theatrical style embodied by Nick Cave is just not for me, and although this is a more palatable, sanded down version of such stylings, a fresh listen hasn't really done it any favours. I remain impressed by Nick Cave's ability to craft out intriguing lyrical narratives, but I could do without the music.

I often see/hear Queen being spoken of as a "singles band", and even described as "overrated" in some corners of the internet. Whilst I tend to agree with the former statement to a certain extent, the high points that they've put their name to are ridiculously good. Whilst A Night At the Opera is the more grandiose, no-holds-barred defining statement in Queen's canon, Sheer Heart Attack is a more measured, yet broadly fun time. Are there a few lesser tracks on the album? Of course - I don't think there's much worth fussing about from "Stone Cold Crazy" onwards, which sets an incredibly high bar to surpass, but the highlights across the first half are truly delicious, namely "Brighton Rock", "Killer Queen", "Flick of the Wrist" and "Now I'm Here".

This is a marked improvement over Henry's Dream. On the whole, it just felt much more sonically engaging to me, and actually had some compelling energy contained within it. Even the more reserved tracks didn't feel quite as plodding or morose, and Cave isn't doing so much of his signature wailing either. However, at 82 minutes in length, it's a thumbs in the middle for me as far as its replayability stakes are concerned. I wouldn't be averse, but equally I'm not chomping at the bit to hear more.

I gave this a spin last night as a pertinent tribute to our newly departed musical legend. I feel that there's little else to say about the quality and enduring influence of this album that others haven't, or won't, come to mention in their reviews. This is one of those albums that I perhaps only listen to a couple of times a year, much like with the other "golden run" Sabbath albums, however its impact remains unabating whenever I decide to drop the needle onto this one. My journey into Black Sabbath came reasonably late, after my love for all things heavy metal had already developed over a number of years before I finally gave their catalogue the time it deserved, but that did nothing to lessen how vital their music felt to me despite my pre-exposure to more extreme subgenres. Absolutely essential. RIP Ozzy 🤘🖤

A gaping hole which I've recently filled in my record collection, as I've ushered in attempts to diversify the genres that I listen to at home, beyond primarily metal. Electronic music has been an area of heightened focus for me as of late, with this album from Jean-Michel Jarre widely considered to be an important piece of the puzzle towards the future development of ambient, electronica, sound collage, space rock, synth pop and new wave music. Essentially, imagine the synthesizer work that you would hear floating throughout a 70s prog rock album becoming the main emphasis of the music, as opposed to an additional layer of depth supporting the virtuosic guitar playing of the genre, which is entirely absent here. Dreamy and existential, yet accessible through a strong grasp on melodicism throughout, the album has reportedly been used for music therapy and to support mothers throughout the natal process in the years following its release. It has a transportive, instinctual level of heft to it, which is difficult to replicate with such sparse resources as those contained here. That this was Jarre's first studio release proper is most impressive. It was assembled in a makeshift home studio with large parts of the album being written on a barely functioning mellotron, and it would initially struggle to see release through its rejection by several prominent record labels of the time. However, its legacy today provides for a success story in that whilst you may not be aware of Jarre directly, you will absolutely be aware of artists who have sought after his template.

Is Björk one of the weirdest and most experimental artists to ever occupy the mainstream? Yes, and I love her all the more for it. Her "second" debut is a slightly peculiar inclusion in the 1001, however, especially in favour of POST or Homogenic, which I would argue are the superior albums, and have aged a lot better than this one. Nonetheless, this album did provide a very measurable impact on release, launching Björk into the public eye, and that is likely what has resulted in its inclusion here. Debut has an otherworldly and alien, although somewhat dated feel to it, with the opening track "Human Behaviour" nailing that detached vibe both sonically and lyrically. "Venus as a Boy" would be my other highlight for its ethereal, almost trip-hop like qualities. From there, it's definitely arguable that the first half of the album contains its more interesting numbers, with the latter half settling into some relatively conventional house music of the time. I wouldn't quite describe this album as "testing the waters", but a greater ambition and consistency would be realised on the following POST. Still, a very enjoyable time revisiting this.

One that suffered from being in the wrong environs at the time of my original review - a subsequent revisit, after almost exactly 3 months to the letter, has unlocked its majesty to me. A specific headspace is needed to appreciate this to its fullest extent, but what a stunner of a record. Less of the typical Cave-drawling on this one and a greater emphasis on tender beauty.

This began grating on me from the word go. Other than country, this type of 60's twaddle is second in my personal pecking order of music which I'd be demanding financial compensation to ever be subjected to. Needless to say, I passed up the opportunity to continue listening at around the halfway point. Life is too fucking short. Plus, after conducting some brief research, I learned of the disturbing lore associated with the members of this band, which makes the album cover all the more uncomfortable to look at.

I bought this CD on a whim during a recent charity shop hunt, so 3 Feet High is very much a new "previously heard" for me. I generally struggle a lot with hip hop - the lyrical themes often don't feel relatable to me, and the lack of sonic variety and dynamism across lengthy albums can very quickly become tiresome for me. My personal exceptions tend to occupy the more experimental or industrial spheres of the genre - Billy Woods, Clipping., Dälek, Danny Brown, Death Grips, DJ Shadow, Injury Reserve, JPEGMAFIA, MF Doom et al. I am also partial to some earlier "boom bap" in intermittent, infrequent doses. This album, whilst of a different era and template to the aforementioned artists, takes my interest in that it similarly provides for an unorthodox experience. Its playful nature, combined with its psychedelic tendencies, the strong production for its time, the conscious themes explored and its adept utilisation of sampling, puts it in a league above the fairly limited pool of comparison points that I can draw upon. Does this sound attributable to its era? Yes, very much so, but I can align with the argument that 3 Feet High forms essential listening within the genre. Is it something that I'd come back to with any sense of regularity, however? Perhaps not, I only tend to put on a hip hop album once a month or so, but this would definitely fit within that rotation.

I recently gave this band about half of the "Discog in a Day" treatment whilst on my travels, with practically zero prior knowledge of them. Super Furry Animals didn't really land for me at that point, needing a hell of a lot more time and some less chaotic listening conditions to properly digest, however I probably would've had this album down as the most immediately accessible of those that I'd given a go (Fuzzy Logic through to Phantom Power). Revisiting this one, with a fresh pair of ears, has done it the world of good. It's absolutely beaming with warm, gorgeous textures, does whatever the hell it wants and has plenty to unpack with repeat listens. I'd be highly inclined to come back to this.

I will say that I didn't hate this anywhere near as much as I expected to. It's an easygoing listen, with a handful of decent offerings and a jubilant cheer pulsing throughout, but on the whole, this one became tiresome quickly for me. I found my attention ebbing and flowing between the busier, more "rock" oriented passages and the relatively non-descript folk ones. After about 5 tracks, I thought I was on for the home stretch, only to realise that there were nine left to go. "49 Bye-Byes" is the final track proper, which is an appropriate note to wrap things up on, but the Spotify version of the album adds four superfluous, dirging acoustic tracks into the mix.

A solid release from an undoubtedly classic, integral band within the timeline of hardcore punk. However, despite this being Minor Threat's longest effort, clocking in at 21 minutes, I've seen Out of Step being described as an EP far more often than I have as an album, and therefore it is a somewhat debatable inclusion in a list of 1001 Albums. I'd also argue, if you're going to acknowledge Minor Threat in this list, that the debut S/T EP was more of a landmark statement and of greater importance to the development of hardcore, as to render it essential listening. Out of Step takes the band's sound into a more measured, less seething direction, hinting towards the later post-hardcore of Fugazi in patches. However, is it quite as enduring as the debut EP? I'm not so sure.

A band I've always been aware of, but up until now my familiarity with their music never extended beyond "Sweet Home Alabama" (which is an absolute bop, albeit has been overplayed into the ground). What the hell have I been playing at? This is really good. Irritatingly, I couldn't find a version of this on Spotify without the silly demo tracks tacked on at the end, but the album itself breezed by and immediately felt homely to me. That Lynyrd Skynyrd sounded this assured and fully realised on their debut is mightily impressive, and a clear blueprint exists here for the formation of the southern rock subgenre. Definitely a fully warranted inclusion in the 1001.

The next step of my journey exploring Joni Mitchell, and after the sample size of a singular listen to both albums, I think I'd have this over Hejira as the one I'd be more likely to reach for at the moment. Whilst I very much enjoyed the latter as well, this one felt a bit more accessible and optimistic in tone, with the folk and pop elements of her sound taking greater urgency. There are still hints of the jazzy direction which would be amplified on Hejira, particularly channeled through the bass arrangements, but whilst the latter gave off the vibe of an album that you'd chuck on as an accompaniment to a cozy winter evening indoors, this is the Yang to Hejira's Yin as one more suited for a stroll in the summer. Consider me a newly enlightened fan.

Taking in the first track, I was lulled into a false sense of security that this would perhaps be a lovely, pioneering ambient / world music album. However, my hopes were quickly shunted by how disparate and haphazard each of these tracks are when stacked up next to each other. RateYourMusic lists subgenres of: New Wave, Southern African Music, Turntablism, Hip Hop, Merengue, Tribal Ambient, Electro, Country Pop, Plunderphonics, Afrobeat, Soukous, Marabi, and Mbaqanga. All of these go some way to describing the overall experience, and I can at least see how it would have been influential towards the plunderphonics subgenre through its unrelenting mishmashing of collated samples and juxtaposing sounds. However, one can't shake the feeling that it all feels a bit appropriated and plagiarised from other cultures in a calculated way, perhaps with the intention of manufacturing success by McLaren in being seen as this "revolutionary artist". A cynical business ploy rather than an artistic statement from the heart, in true McLaren fashion. It's of course an extremely fluid album in terms of the territories it explores, but in execution, much of it sounds incredibly dated and a bit pretentious. Without immediately recognising them, I had heard (and couldn't stand) the tracks "Double Dutch" and "Buffalo Gals" prior to diving into this album, with other tracks ranging from "interesting, but really?" to "this is just shite". "Punk It Up" and "Soweto" sound like ideas that even Sandinista-era The Clash would have left on the cutting room floor, and others such as "Jive My Baby" and "Duck for the Oyster" just got on my nerves. [RATING REVISION: 1 star to 2 star. McLaren is still undoubtedly a cunt, and his grubbiness does give me the ick when listening to this, but purely on its own merits I was being unduly harsh on reflection]

It became clear to me around a third of the way through this one that I was fighting a lost cause, and the remaining 20 minutes or so felt like an eternity. It's clearly a respectable enough bandit country album with more nuance to it than I expected, but for my tastes, that's like giving a bad pizza takeout props for at least not leaving you toilet bound throughout the night.

I think this may be the most contemporary album I've received up until now, but you'd be hard pressed to believe that when listening to it. This really hasn't aged well at all, and honestly I found the bulk of it absolutely insufferable. MGMT attempt to mask what is a fairly rudimentary of the time indie album with a heaping of disorientating electronica warpage, going for a psychedelic vibe, but it ultimately culminates in an unconvincing and grating listen in the main. I was of course familiar with a couple of the singles ("Electric Feel" and "Kids", the latter of which in particular was unavoidable for a time in the 2000s to early 10s), and both are admittedly catchy, but they come nowhere close to compensating for much of the dross on offer either side of them. "Of Moons, Birds and Monsters" is also passable in that it is afforded more breathing room than the other unfocused tracks, and it offers a more tasteful ratio between the 'tronica and the indie, but it's hardly anything exemplary. Overrated, overstated, overwrought and overindulgent. This is the sort of album, for those of this era, that your mate from secondary school / college who tried acid at a party once, and thought he was the dog's bollocks, would probably have had screeching out of his Sony Ericsson push up phone.

It's Aerosmith, you know exactly what you're going to get. I've always found them a bit overrated though if I'm being honest, and this album is a fairly middling effort from them. Nothing wrong with it really - I don't mind a bit of cock rock once every so often, but there's not enough right with it either to even vaguely justify its inclusion in the 1001.

Props for being the first truly international album I've received up until now (which seems to be something of a rarity in the 1001 list). However, despite enjoying bits and pieces of this to a certain extent, it is miles away from being something I'd ever revisit, and at 48 minutes is a big ask to get through. A "música popular brasileira" album, which essentially expands upon the samba-canção and bossa nova genres by adding in funk and soul elements (you knew that already, right?), there is a surprising amount of diversity and complexity between tracks on this album. Some lean much more into jazz than others, however I found the transitions between stylings a bit jarring at times, mainly towards the album's mid section before it settles into a funk/soul template towards its tail end. The vocals here are lovely and I presume express some profound lyrics, however the language barrier meant I wasn't able to form a connection with them. Two stars is perhaps a bit harsh - it's really not that bad, just not for me.

Now we're talking again. What a find this has been. From the entrancing 10 minute psychy, proggy epic which ushers in proceedings, to the bouncy, soul-infused funky bops which follow and never really degrade much in quality from there on in, this comes in at a tight 36 minutes and it breezed by for me. "Back In Our Minds" is perhaps the one track here which didn't immediately blow me away, but it was still a pleasure to listen to nonetheless. This is absolutely the type of funk I can get behind rather than the self important, overwrought exploits of later bands which I've never warmed to. At its core, it just wants to rock out and have a great time, and that really shines through in the compositions. That solo (you know the one I'm on about) in that title track is truly mind-bending. Onto the vinyl wishlist this goes, and I will be investigating these further.

Orbital have two entries in the 1001 - this album and the immediately preceding, much heralded Orbital 2 (Brown Album). If it were me compiling the 1001, I'd have personally made a stronger case for the following In Sides to feature over this one. However, Snivilisation is still a very enjoyable and thoroughly interesting ambient techno sprawler at 75 minutes in length, although it is a much less digestible and accessible release owing to its stronger sense of eclecticism and complexity. It tends to be the somewhat overshadowed middle child, perhaps also not helped by being released in 1994, which was a particularly strong year for electronic music. You had Aphex Twin / Caustic Window, Autechre, The Future Sound of London, Global Communication, Massive Attack, Oval, Portishead, The Prodigy, Underworld et al. releasing some of their very best material that year, the majority of those leaning into friendlier takes on ambient, IDM, techno, trip hop and other stylings which were making waves at the time. You could leave me on a desert island with nothing to listen to but a curation of 1994 electronic albums for a month, this included, and I'd be quite content with that, although this one would probably be one of the last from that crop that I'd be actively reaching for. I've found myself slipping into an electro-rabbit hole over these last few months, making some amazing discoveries along the way, although Orbital are an act I've always been familiar with and have had an appreciation of, owing to my Dad's tastes.

My Beatles knowledge is patchy at best - I believe I've only ever listened to the "1" compilation album, so I know of their obvious hits via that. This one didn't blow me away. It's a reasonable enough listen, but it offers little explanation towards the revered, global mega-entity that they would go on to become, and I would suggest that it is by no means essential. It's one that you'd put on to gain a greater understanding of the band's early trajectory, but there's little in the way of replay value for me here as it just felt a bit too simplistic.

Nothing about The Smashing Pumpkins has ever been for me. The garishness, the whiny nonsense and self importance of it all leaves me feeling nauseous at the best of times. Minus the vocals, I can get with a few tracks here in an instrumental sense, but two hours of this was an experience that never bears repeating.

The album cover reminds me of a Pampers advert. That's just about the only constructive slant I can put towards this. Just light-years away from being anything I'd ever choose to listen to, although the international aspect is again appreciated.

Hahahaha hahahaha! Nope. Get in the bin you freak. Annual leave request from this monolithic undertaking has been put in.

The title track is iconic - of course everyone knows it (even if they can't immediately recall its name - I couldn't for the longest time). As for the rest of the album though, I imagine discussions in the studio went something along these lines: "Alright, we've got one banger we can market this with. How about we fill the rest of the album with dull as dishwater, lift music-esque covers of rock and roll songs? We can make a killing doing that because who cares? People will lap it up as long as we've got one decent song." "The kids aren't that stupid though, right? Surely we've got a bit more in our locker to make this stand test of time?" "Hmmm fair point. Suppose we could tweak "Green Onions" slightly, slow it down a bit and call it "Mo' Onions" so it sounds like we tried. Then we'll call it a day and lull everyone into submission by just doing whatever the fuck else on the other nine tracks. You with me?" "Yeah I'm down, what about the artwork though?" "On the off chance that any divvies out there will think they've popped into Morrisons instead, we'll make it look like a supermarket advertising hoarding." "Genius! Some random bloke in 40 years will put this on a shrine and deem it worthy of everyone's time".

The brand new Skoda Octavia from just £26,740, various payment plans available. Terms and conditions apply… …wait, you're telling me I haven't just spent an hour indulging myself into a barrage of car adverts that someone with a deep seated self-hatred assembled into a YouTube playlist? Does anyone seriously care about these soulless hacks? This is the definition of “live, laugh, love” blues rock for people whose greatest sense of danger and excitement in their life was mixing cider and beer on a night out once. Music for people who don't like music. Thoroughly depressing stuff.

Very apt album title here which echoes my thoughts on it. It's an inoffensive enough, but wholly unremarkable and attributable to its time moody pop rock / singer songwriter album. She has a good, pleasant voice, and to its credit, in a lyrical sense, this avoids being as sappy as I was worried it could have been. Ultimately though, and maybe I'm just being a miserable bastard of late, but I can't fathom any existence or parallel universe which would necessitate this album's inclusion. At least I've broken away from the one-star rut (briefly? Who knows).

I didn't expect to get much out of this at all, but I'm pleased to say that I did. Some people just have an aura, and Aretha Franklin sure as hell does. Really enjoyed the playful bass licks throughout this, and it turns out I wasn't entirely unfamiliar with Aretha Franklin as I did recognise a handful of tracks, without knowing of the artist. An empowering and passionate, yet quite intimate listening experience. I'll be exploring further.

I'm only familiar with Machine Head from Deep Purple, which I do happen to own on vinyl. On balance, though, I might prefer this one after just one listen. Despite being released earlier than the aforementioned Machine Head, this album feels more ambitious, experimental, and has a very observable progressive rock thread running throughout. "Child in Time" in particular has blown me away as a sprawling centre-piece of the album, but there isn't a dud to be had either side of it. I would say that I can see this being less immediate for many, despite still containing an abundance of top tier hazy, fuzzy riffage, but it's more closely aligned to my tastes and as such has clicked in a big way from the off. Deep Purple absolutely deserve to be in the conversation alongside Black Sabbath in terms of shaping the genre of heavy metal as we know it today.

It's clearly a high quality example of something I wouldn't ever actively reach for, and at 72 minutes, staying the course was a bit of a test, but there is a palpable tension and dark atmosphere flowing throughout this. One of my first points of reference was the earlier works of Tom Waits before he (presumably) underwent a frontal lobotomy. There is some lovely instrumentation here, and Bob Dylan captures quite the presence with his raspy, nicotine-ravaged voice. Perhaps a good one for a gloomy winter evening with some mulled wine.

An album I initially rated 1/5 - for the longest time, I couldn't stand it, mainly because of bad past associations and experiences that songs from it had soundtracked. Damon Albarn's voice and mockney-isms also require a fair bit of getting accustomed to, which I had initially dismissed as being entirely silly. All of a sudden, a year or so later, I felt it necessary to reappraise my lowest rated albums, and this suddenly clicked into place for me, particularly when I paid closer attention to the lyrics. There is a notable drop off towards the second half of the album, which does prevent me from awarding it any higher than a 3.

This was actually quite the surprise and very enjoyable, despite my fears when I took note of this being a mixture of studio and live tracks. The end result is a well-assembled package which sailed by pleasantly in my ears. The stripped back, gentle acoustics combined with infrequent, reflective bursts of harmonica really do provide for some heartstring-tugging moments throughout, with the album coming out of its cave and taking on more optimistic, hard rock tones as it advances. Wikipedia describes Rust Never Sleeps as "proto-grunge", but I'm not sure I'm getting much of that from it (thankfully) - rather, it feels like a precursor to the exploits of bands such as Built to Spill, Dinosaur Jr, Pavement, Sebadoh et al. The opening track has a veil of darkness shrouded over it in a way quite unlike anything else on the album, probably taking the cake as my highlight. I was also pleasantly surprised by Neil Young as a vocalist - for whatever reason, I was expecting some gravelly, two-pack-a-day smoker groaning, but he has a smoother vocal style much more aligned with vocalists of the 90-00s alt/indie persuasion. Would I put this on again? If the circumstances called for something of this ilk, then yeah, I'd probably reach for it.

This is a decently catchy album, although I do feel it is one that benefited greatly from arriving at just the right time and place to make the impact that it did. If this had been released a few years later, would it have been as widely celebrated as it was in 2001, where you had nu metal circling the drain, mall emo in its relative infancy etc? Debatable. Nonetheless, this does a grand job of combining scrappy garage rock energy with hooks, optimistic tones and melodies. It's well-documented that The Strokes could barely play their instruments at this early juncture of their career, giving Is This It an endearing charm which I think made it relatable to a lot of people. I was just about weaning off nappies in 2001, so I don't have the same degree of attachment to this as I'm sure others here will, but I did enjoy giving this another spin after a little while away.

The album title was an immediate red flag, and it unfortunately proved to be accurate as far as describing the overall experience. Having the album's supposed centerpiece "Layla" as Track 13, after over an hour of tedious, self important twaddle for the most part, is trolling to a sickening degree. It's seriously lacking in the quality control department, and ultimately comes off as pretentious above its station. Could very easily have been a 4 or 5 track EP at most. I'll stick with Blind Faith and what I know of from Cream, thanks.

This album is like a trifecta of some really good, some OK and some pretty rough tracks, and it always leaves you second guessing as to which sweet you're about to pick out from the jar. An ambitious, career defining statement or overindulgent and lacking in quality control? The answer probably lies somewhere in the middle, as does my rating. I'd be quite content for this to have at least half an hour shaved off from it, and I'm unlikely to ever take in the full experience again, but it is an album you should hear before you die, as, well, it's The Beatles.

The first track started out promisingly through carving out a wonderful atmosphere for itself, however it very quickly began to feel a bit laborious and drawn out (a common thread throughout the rest of the album, despite the relatively modest track lengths). The piano arrangements and rumbling bass work are the MVPs here, but something about the vocal style didn't quite do it for me, and the album plods on at a very pedestrian pace which didn't satisfy what I was after today. Nothing egregious here, but I can't see this forming a part of my regular rotation.

There are actually some highly catchy bangers on this, annoyingly so as 1) I was expecting to hate it and 2) I can't really sing along to them without sounding like I've tried funnelling too much food into my trap, as I don't know the slightest bit of Portuguese. However, there are also some very dated moments on here when it decides to sneak some synth work in. I suppose if I'm ever looking for a fix of some funky Nando's background music, this is where I'd be gravitating towards after the sample size of two albums I've heard, but how often will that itch present itself?

I was excited to receive and dive into this one as I'm a sucker for 90s British electronic music, and somehow hadn't ever given this album a crack despite knowing of the artist, however I'm coming away feeling a bit nonplussed by it. A strange type of jazzy, early drum and bass, it generally takes on a low key approach which probably lends itself better to being on as background music whilst reading / working. It's not quite chill out music, but equally, not really strident enough to be gym music. Some of the tracks are interesting in terms of their progressions, layering and structure, but there wasn't a lot here which really left a significant impression on me, and the nearly 80 minute running time is difficult to justify. Annoyingly, the last two tracks were unavailable on Spotify, so I had to conclude my listening via YouTube.

I was actually familiar with several of the tracks on here (I live in Norfolk so of course I would be), and the opener is actually a banger (maybe I've just had it bashed into my head so much that I'm experiencing a live case of Stockholm syndrome), but a fair bit of the rest of it... isn't actually that bad for a country album? There is some absolute tripe on this for sure - If I Could Only Take a Flamethrower to the track of a similar title, I gladly would, and "Bottle Let Me Down" has a face that not even a mother could love, but "Boulder to Birmingham", "Before Believing" and "For No One" are lovely acoustic, folky ballads, "Sleepless Nights" at worst could just be considered a bit inoffensive, and "Coat of Many Colors" is just a Dolly Parton cover so I suppose it's hard to butcher that. The final few tracks are... bloody awful. It's comically bizarre how as soon as the backing band starts warming up again, Harris sets out to pierce your eardrums, but she sounds great during the album's pared back moments, and half a decent album isn't bad for this sort of thing.

The second Queen album I've had the pleasure of listening to as part of this challenge. For my money, this is perhaps a bit more consistent all the way through than Sheer Heart Attack, but the highs aren't quite as high. It's worth noting that both albums were released in the same year, and they were only one removed from A Night at the Opera, which is pretty mental to think about. The theatrical, triumphant bombast that everyone knows Queen for is present here nonetheless, particularly within the latter half of the album, although not to as potent an extent, which I actually think suits Queen II down to the ground. Are there as many jaw dropping moments on this one? No, but it still absolutely rocks the hell out, and it offers a more than viable alternative for when I'm fancying a bit of Queen, but perhaps want something a bit lower key from them.

As far as Nico's material goes, I feel that she struck gold with her contributions towards The Velvet Underground's debut, however her solo work hasn't ever clicked with me in quite the same way as that album has. On the rare occasions that I feel up for the challenge, The Marble Index is the album of hers that I'm most likely to reach for. Chelsea Girl is quite low down in the pile for me as I just find it a bit empty, drawling and boring. It's very easy to tire of her vocals when there isn't much going on around them to distract you from them, or much variety in her approach, and unfortunately that's the case here. It's a "weird", but very surface level "weird" album that kind of becomes musical mush before too long.

An absolute worldie, no question or much elaboration needed here. How do you follow up two stone cold classics (released in the same year as each other)? By creating something arguably even better the following year. For my money, this is their apex and essential listening in every sense of the phrase.

Coldplay are a band that receive a lot of stick, and I'd entirely agree that their later material is amongst the most beige, insipid, soul-destroying stuff out there. Music for people who don't like music and "Karens" essentially. However, and I'm acutely aware that this might get me crucified, I actually quite like this album (and only this album), particularly the first half of it. Some of the textures, arrangements and harmonies on A Rush of Blood are wonderful, and whilst it is perhaps a bit cynical in some ways and a direct consequence of what Radiohead were doing, it holds up pretty well in 2025 unlike much of the other "post britpop" stuff which was loitering around at the time. There is an emotional depth to A Rush of Blood which still endures today, and Chris Martin's vocal performance / lyricism here doesn't stray too far into over-earnestness for me, although I get how it might for others. "Clocks" was one of the first songs I learned how to play on the keyboard at school, and I'm not afraid to admit that it's a cracking tune. I could do without a handful of tracks on this - some of the second half is a bit dull, but not enough to taint the rest of the experience too much for me.

Haha, I actually gave this album a listen earlier last week. A fresh go with it again this morning has done it no harm at all. This is how you do synth-pop down to the letter, in my humble opinion. Neil Tennant has a really distinctive voice which goes hand in hand perfectly with the ethereal and ingraining, yet ominous textures on offer here, and his wry lyrical approach ensures that their music cuts deeper beyond just the sonic aspect. It's quite a dark and wistful album underneath the layers of deceptively welcoming and delicate instrumentation, with themes of loss, abusive relationships and existential contemplation underlining it. There are through lines to what would become trip hop on several tracks, not least "My October Symphony", concluding on THAT violin note which is proper heart in mouth stuff. This is the perfect album to chuck on between the changing of the seasons as days begin to grow shorter, temperatures recede and realisations of the impending gloom and humdrum dawn upon you. Maybe I'm a few weeks early to the "party", but I'm already in the zone for it and dusting off my invitation. I haven't got any Pet Shop Boys on vinyl, but I'm on a mission to rectify that in the near future. They don't have any bad albums across this era of their career, but Behaviour might just be their best, marking a distinctive shift with their canon which would define their future direction.

Actually nowhere near as bad as I was expecting, and quite enjoyable for considerable periods, although equally it did become a bit too much in patches. I was unconvinced with the vocals at first - throughout the album I was flip flopping between "Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up mate" and "actually this guy can carry a melody fairly well", but he fits within the spacey, diffuse, drowned in reverb template that The Verve exercise here. The running time is a bit unnecessary for me - 45-50 minutes max would have done just fine, but I made it all the way through which has to count for something. There was enough on offer here to warrant a revisit down the line, though I'm perhaps not in any great hurry for it.

I understand why this is here, and I do feel enriched by having heard it, but it just felt like too much of a relic from a bygone era for me to actively seek it out again. This is the kind of music my Mum would've been listening to at home courtesy of her parents growing up, so naturally she has an appreciation of it, and I wouldn't mind getting up and wiggling my arse to this after a few beverages if someone was to put it on.

This is like royalty free background music that YouTube would suggest to you instead after you've had a copyright strike on one of your videos, except the vocalist is kinda cool and charismatic. These are a desert blues/afro-rock band from Bamako, Mali, with an interesting and rather distressing backstory which overshadows the fairly average music on offer. Props to them for navigating those circumstances, using this album as a cathartic release and as a huge middle finger to forms of oppression essentially, but the end result isn't really for me.

This is proper good. Really, it is! I've never taken much of a plunge into CCR despite the constant banging on about them from my fellow pub-goers, and on this evidence I 100% get the love for them. Jubilant, swinging rock and roll at its foundations, there is also a healthy and very tasteful country influence weaved into the fabric here, not dominating the sound but accentuating it very well. A deceptively simple album on the surface of it, but there were some interesting variations and subtle switch ups in time signatures and song structures to keep each track fresh in direct succession from one another. It chugs along brilliantly whilst avoiding becoming too formulaic, and the playing here is really tight. Interesting to note that the album's title derives from the meticulous rehearsal sessions which were conducted in drummer Doug Clifford (Cosmo)'s warehouse, though this doesn't pervade into the music too much for me as to detract from the intimate nature of it. Another one to whack onto the wishlist, honestly there is very little, if any fault I can pick with this one.

The opening track set the tone pretty effectively - overlong and grating as fuck, going for a schizophrenic, orchestral type vibe but ultimately sounding like someone talking into a fan over a pound shop rendition of wildlife documentary background music. Did it get any better from there? No, not really, much of what I successfully managed to endure was some of the most turgid drivel I've ever had the displeasure of listening to, even if amusingly so in places. The vocalist actually sounded half decent on a track such as "Marley Purt Drive" when attempting to sing properly, though not to enough of an extent to carry the song towards being anything remotely inspiring. With such inventive lyricism on the following track "Edison" as "Oh, how, look at us now, we've still got a lot to learn but it's someone else's turn", it does at least point to a self-awareness within the band, but a lack of willingness to apply any of their (rightfully observed) criticisms towards their own product. "Suddenly" gives off the vibe of a politician trying to write a love song, "Whisper Whisper" is similarly frigid and a bit skin-crawling to listen to, and "Lamplight" was the point in the album where I began contemplating which of my recent actions warranted receiving this awful mess as today's listening experience. Maybe karma is real after all. "Sound of Love" might just be the worst lyrical offender here with lines such as "I need a life to go my way, so every night I pray. Just give me someone for my life. I feel a clown, people try to play me down, and there's one thing I never found. The sound of love. See the old man walk the lane, see him walk along in pain. It makes me cry to see them smile", "buoyed" by the most annoying, belting vocal approach delivering them. "OK, that's 10 tracks I've miraculously endured, surely it's almost over right?" Nope... SEVEN more to go. Fuck this shit, I'm out. Give me a Kanye x Anthony Kiedis collaboration over this nonsense any day of the week.

It's just a classic, benchmark album for post punk innit? One of those albums so ubiquitous that it's hard to really provide a unique slant on it, but the quality is unrelentingly good with this one. Cavernous and murky, yet relatable and within arm's reach at the same time, Joy Division captured something truly special here which would define a movement.

Considering that it's country rock, which in most circumstances I would gladly pay to see being mass-excavated into a landfill plot, this was actually... just as shite as I was expecting for the most part. I will acknowledge that the opener "Christine's Tune" is genuinely a rare, rollicking banger of a tune for the genre, "My Uncle" also had a bit of energy to it and "Juanita" is a passable enough ballad, but much of the rest descended into that wet, skin-crawling mid-paced slop which we apparently didn't have enough of in this list. Give me up-tempo bonky bonk over some lad doing his best sheep impression whilst giving a guitar a manicure any day of the week. Arguably even worse than the above however, we're "treated" to a spoken word organ track with someone occasionally rattling a cymbal in the background as the album's closer. Who in their right mind would've signed off on that? These jokers apparently.

Step aside Malcolm McLaren, this is how you make a plunderphonics album borrowing from various cultures, without it coming off as a cynical attempt. None of this should work in tandem - but it does, and that's the entire point of the genre, rather than just mindlessly mishmashing samples and themes together until you end up with a gigantic ball of ruined Play-Doh. We get a wonderful array of samples, not least the religious chants / sermons and tribal percussion, re-contextualised into electronic soundscapes and underlined by David Byrne's customary angular playing. It's an unpredictable headfuck of an album - can you dance along to it? Not really. Is it passive listening? No. Is it laden with earworms? Also no. But it satisfies the "I like weird things" receptors in my brain and makes for a strangely spiritual, exhilarating experience. I am perhaps slightly more likely to gravitate towards Brian Eno's ambient works than this one, but it more than has a place in my library, and will be getting a purchase if I can find a decent quality copy of it. Brian Eno even had the decency, unlike a certain someone, to remove the track "Qu'Ran" from the album's original tracklisting as it was deemed to be in bad taste by the Islamic Council of Great Britain. Listening to the track today (which is available on YouTube and on certain physical versions) - I wouldn't say it's any more culturally invasive than the rest of the album's religious sampling, containing sacred readings sung by a Muslim cleric, but it shows that Brian Eno wasn't fuelled by self-interest and had a high measure of respect for the corners of the world that he sought from.

Slint’s music took its sweet time to register with me, but nowadays this is one of my go-to albums when I'm feeling down in the dumps. Considered as early purveyors of post rock, Slint’s approach to songwriting differs somewhat to the “crescendo-core” style which would become the dominant force of post rock in the 00s and beyond, whilst also providing a clear blueprint for what was to come. Slint (and others such as June of 44 and Tortoise) walked with the idea of building from quieter, shimmery passages into agonistic releases of tension so that the likes of Explosions in the Sky and Mogwai could run, however Slint’s music has a distinctly more angular, volatile and abrasive nature to it as opposed to the largely linear, grandiose and hopeful approach of later acts. Their climaxes are shorter lived and significantly less easy on the ear, best showcased on “Don, Aman”, “Washer” and “Good Morning Captain”, with throes of optimism very much at a premium throughout Spiderland. The overriding mood is one of disharmony, alienation, longing and existential dread, particularly as you advance into the second half of the album where an air of resignation begins to set in, following a comparatively raucous first half. Brian McMahan’s vocals are often spoken or even whispered, but also share a commonality with the exploits of earlier emo and post hardcore frontmen of the time when he goes for that wailing, desperate louder style. His lyrics come from a place of loneliness, but also of social anxiety, his narrative writing laying bare his struggles of tussling between the two conflicting predicaments. The sum total of Spiderland makes for an uncomfortable, yet strangely sentimental listen for me, and one which I have really gravitated towards in recent years.

I haven't really got anything witty to say about this one. It's brilliant in patches (the opener in particular is a generational statement, maybe even an all-timer), but much of the album from therein ranges from being decent to decidedly average - it hits a real lull towards the middle, and I never need to hear "Oh Yoko" again. It's John Lennon so of course it was going to find its way into this list, I'm not averse to it being on here but the multitude of other Beatles related selections does call into question how many albums truly are vital listening.

This was the definition of "meh". Absolutely nothing offensive about it whatsoever, but there was nothing that stuck in my mind about it at all, and at 62 minutes in length, it's about 20 longer than it needed to be. Really disappointing to go from Rust Never Sleeps to this.

Thanking the 1001 Algo for today's exercise in musical education being a mere 27 minutes at least. Another band which my Mum grew up hearing at home; I'm familiar with a few of these tracks through her playing them over the years, and the album was a pleasant enough listen. Ultimately it's just not really my thing though, despite understanding, to a degree, why it's on here.

I've got next to no background with Elvis, and unfortunately this one hasn't left a great impression on me. His vocal style was the main obstacle towards me getting much out of it at all. In an instrumental sense, there's some nice, warm bass work here, and it's clearly an impassioned, personal album from a lyrical perspective, but I just can't do 50 minutes of it.

I've heard this one enough times at work through one of my former colleagues incessantly playing the CD (that I bought for them as a birthday present 😬😬), to know there's absolutely nothing for me here. Time is precious, and I don't need any "not like the other girls!!!" shite in my life.

I'm very much conflicted with this one. When the album settles into less assuming, contemplative pockets ("The Beat", "Hand in Hand", and a couple of other points within its second third), it ventures closer towards being within my wheelhouse, but I can only describe measurable portions of this album as "bad American sitcom theme tune music". It captures an angsty, rebellious mood of sorts, but channeled through a sticky-sweet sonic template with a nasty aftertaste. It's a kind of over-exerted new wave album which crosses the threshold in which I'm willing to tolerate in large parts. Vocally, Costello is not my cup of coffee at all here, whereas I can't remember this being a significant issue that I took with My Aim is True (though, it is an album that I already have barely any recollections of, so I'd have to revisit it to compare fairly). I guess I understand his energetic, kind of sarcastic appeal, and can hear the influence sought from later alt-rock vocalists, but I'm not keen on a great many of them either. Crop me out of your film, ta mate.

You can imagine the sense of dread which set onto me after receiving this album, as hip hop is largely not my thing. Overuse of N-bombs, muthafuckaz, drug/gangland themes, too lengthy and lacking in variety are all criticisms you could level towards this one as well. However, there are actually some very enjoyable funky, groovy beats and dirty bass to be had here if you're able to dissociate from what he's rapping about, and he has a very tidy flow/delivery. It's got that "smoked out" type of vibe going on. I'm really not qualified to go into much more depth on this sort of stuff, and I'm highly unlikely to consciously return to this, but I'd imagine there's far worse out there.

Classic Green Day, striking the perfect sweet spot between their rougher around the edges beginnings and exceedingly polished post-Warning offerings. My introduction to the band was American Idiot, but something about this album felt (and still feels) a lot more genuine to me. It's a seamlessly bound package with such an infectious charm to it - a couple of minor weak points in the second half prevent me from giving this the 5⭐ treatment, but it's pretty damn close.

Pretty tedious, one-paced stuff for the most part. I get that's entirely the point given the musical style concerned, but some fleeting flickers of variety and vigour on occasion would have been nice. Instead I'm lying in bed very much tempted to drift back off again. He has a unique voice at least, and this probably isn't all that bad for what it is. But it's not for me. That's all I've got.

Have I just stumbled upon the quintessential pop-soul album? It's not a genre I have much experience with at all, but there's surely not much else out there to rival this in quality. One of those albums where everything hangs together impeccably, despite some absolutely bonkers ideas regularly cropping up out of left field, and such a wealth of diversity from track to track. Stevie Wonder's voice is fantastic, and through his lyrics he explores themes of striving for world peace, the trials and tribulations of living in the US as a person of colour during the Civil Rights era, and throughout there's a perfectly balanced blend of gratitude for life, but also an anger towards the pool of injustices and challenges it brings. It reconciles the chaos and upheaval of inner-city life into such a wonderful sonic experience. Getting to hear stuff like this for the first time is precisely why I signed up for this monolithic undertaking.

Could have, and should have been an email. I'm convinced that this album only exists as some elaborate sadomasochistic social experiment. Anyone claiming to enjoy it has been commissioned for their opinion, or held hostage. Needless to say, I didn't indulge in its 3 hour running time.

This is actually not too shabby. I was half expecting some run of the mill "lads causing havoc in Tesco, great banter innit" album, but this is much more psychedelic and nuanced than that. There is some genuinely decent 70s throwback style riffage here, combined with the off-kilter energy of British indie and almost sea-shanty like glockenspiel. The problem for me is that it doesn't breach the threshold between "decent" and "great" often enough to be an experience that I'd actively seek out again. It's consistently very listenable, interesting at points even, but it doesn't really get me off my seat.

Just completely unlistenable for me unfortunately. Like auditory battery acid.

This is something that the original list needs more of. It's angular, artsy, nervously off-kilter and intelligent, yet modest and personable in its execution. It gives off the constant impression of only being seconds away from impending collapse, but it never quite does fall in on itself. Lyrically, this is an exhilarating showpiece of the politically charged, progressive themes attributable to punk music, whilst Mike Watt contributes a more unorthodox method of writing through his abstract "spiels". Minutemen were considerably ahead of their time, and their importance to post-hardcore as one of its progenitors cannot be understated. It has as much in common with Talking Heads, Wire, even Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa as it does with the likes of Descendents, Black Flag etc al. Their run was cut agonisingly short owing to D. Boon's tragic passing, a proper case of "what if" despite already making a seismic impression.

I have (and quite enjoy) Back to Black, but had never taken it upon myself to listen to Amy Winehouse's debut album, so I was kind of looking forward to doing so. Unfortunately, this is nowhere near as good or sonically developed as its successor, and she rubs me the wrong way vocally for large parts of what I managed to get through. I work on the basis of "if I couldn't finish it, it's getting a one star" which is perhaps slightly harsh on this one, but sorry Amy, this just isn't it.

This was rather quirky and interesting for significant portions of its running time. Equally, however, it disappears up its own backside a touch too much for my liking. It's a bit like a symphonic The Beatles crossed with Dead Can Dance and maybe even some Steven Wilson - if that sounds pretentious to you, then you're right, it absolutely is. I'd happily re-evaluate this one down the line, not sure if it's essential enough to warrant a spot on the list however.

Progressive R&B, funk rock, neo-soul, art rock and rap rock with Lenny Kravitz and the geezers from Good Charlotte featuring on tracks? I don't think an impressionable 11 year old me would've found that even remotely appealing, let alone now. It's decidedly average at all of those styles at best, and insufferable at its worst. They clearly had no one in their ear telling them "no", and somehow even managed to swindle a contract with Virgin Records. It beggars belief.

I've quite enjoyed this. It's a very tight punk/new wave album without too many bells and whistles, but sometimes a relatively straightforward rocker is just what you need. The album opens up a bit more in its final third with tracks such as "Private Life" and "Lovers of Today"; the latter in particular exercises a great use of build in creeping up from quiet into loud passages, and was a very welcome segway towards the end. I'm impressed by how consistent a package this is for a debut, and I could very well end up buying it.

Reggae is one of those genres that I'd rarely ever sit down and listen to of my own volition, but I can recognise a high quality example of the genre when I hear it. "Catch a Fire" falls into that category - following the warm bass throughout is akin to having your brain massaged, and the lyricism dealing with themes of political injustice towards minorities / abject poverty provides a chilling juxtaposition to the generally sonically uplifting music. I probably need to spend some more time with Bob Marley, and I know that he has at least one more album in the list, so one way or another I will get around to doing so.

I've never been particularly hot on Echo and the Bunnymen, whose music I've always felt was decent, if a bit unspectacular and lacking in memorability from the snippets I've heard. I've had a slightly better time with this one, which errs more on the psychedelic and experimental side akin to The Associates. Although, where they seemed to throw everything at it, this felt a bit more measured and restrained. There still aren't many individual moments here which really leap out at me, but as a whole it felt a bit more energetic and purposeful. It's got potential to be a grower, although when I'd actively choose to put this on again is an issue that hangs in the balance.

A bona fide classic album. Alongside the likes of The Fall, Gang of Four, Wire et al. this band were a cornerstone of the weird, off-kilter post punk style which would inspire countless later acts. This is their best work and an album which sounds head and shoulders above the vast majority of anything else which was doing the rounds at the time, in terms of its production values and innovation.

A stunner. Its hypnotic, dream-like qualities instill calmness in my mind regardless of what mood I'm in prior. It's relatively basic compositionally compared to his subsequent works - "Shh / Peaceful" is essentially one chord locking in a groove, but the trumpet and electric piano/organ work somehow opens up an entire universe within a track. Not a half bad collection of musicians who performed on this one either - Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Chick Corea, John McLaughlin. Simply untouchable.

This was actually quite decent for a style of rock that's never really connected with me. It's a jangly, and even a bit glam in places, indie album. The production is full-bodied for its time, with the more than audible bass guitar acting as a nice touch throughout. Lyrically, whilst there is plenty of self-pitying going on here as is commonplace for the style, this felt a bit more intelligent, quirky and less on the over-earnest side. I didn't want to set the vocalist on fire either, which is often a chief complaint for me within this sphere. I wouldn't object at all if someone were to put this on.

Wow, er... OK. This was quite something. Imagine if the members from Genesis were to all undergo frontal lobotomies and were given the task of assembling something which vaguely resembles their own music using FL Studio preset tools and tracks from the free trial version, whilst recruiting newly-divorced and in denial Gary from the local Woolpack Inn to employ his drunken stupor falsetto wailing from one Thursday karaoke night across an entire album, and you have a vague idea of what's going on here. All under the pseudonym of "Robert Wyatt" for the purpose of creating further intrigue. Does that sound like absolute shite to you? It probably is, but my "dropped on my head as a baby" brain is somehow ironically fascinated by it. Amazingly, I've only really scratched the surface. From the opening track "Sea Song", Rock Bottom heads off into arguably even more absurd directions, with some very unsettling, deliberately incohesive bass guitar, saxophone and keyboard playing culminating in a disturbingly beautiful avant garde mess of an album. It doesn't make sense, but I like things that don't make sense. We're even treated to a guest appearance from Gary's Scottish fishmonger mate Donald on the final track, sensing the opportunity to write himself into the history books in the library of "what the fuck". This is the sort of stuff that I signed up to this challenge for, not Elvis Costello and his unending encyclopedia of collated milquetoast sounds.

Another good album from an artist that I'm kicking myself for never having properly explored prior. This one is perhaps a bit more laid back and subtle than Lady Soul, but depending on my mood, there's equal chance I'd run with this one over the latter. The bass guitar work of Tommy Cogbill and Aretha's piano playing are nothing short of great. Also, I've already said this on my last Aretha review, but what a voice.

One of my finer discoveries so far this year. I found this in my local antique shop the other month and couldn't pass up the opportunity to add it into my collection. I wish I could teleport myself onto that album cover and hit the highway with these luscious beats soundtracking the ride. Hypnotic, groovy, trippy and ominous soundscapes perfect to just lose yourself in, but there's also a flippant, dirty swagger to be had on a couple of tracks, especially *that one* concerning having "the kind of night that I read about". There's little not to like for me here.

It's a style of hip hop, vocal delivery and overall attitude that does precious little for me. I tried; really, I did, but I couldn't make it all the way through. Genuinely think I'd rather listen to any of the country albums I've had so far. Some of the beats were half decent at least, even if a bit unvaried, and I recognise this is most likely a "me" issue with the genre as a whole just not resonating with me.

A smooth, pleasantly inoffensive enough soul album which became very boring very quickly. Anita Baker has a fairly accomplished voice, but never uses it in a vaguely captivating way. If The Black Keys were car advert rock, this is car advert soul.

I'm aware this is going to be controversial, but I found this really boring and one note for large parts. Lyrically it's excellent, but sonically it failed to capture my imagination.

I very rarely ever listen to live albums, but this is awesome and among the best that I've heard. The first two performances of "Highway Star" and "Child in Time" are the obvious highlights - Ian Gillan's vocal capabilities never cease to amaze me, and the drum solo in "The Mule" breaks the set up spectacularly, but there aren't any duds to be had here at all.

I only made it through a few tracks, but they were some of the most self-indulgent yet simultaneously vapid pop/R&B shite out there. Like months out of date packets of "builders breakfast" crisps which just taste like ready salted and are more air than actual crisps. This was supposedly the fastest selling album on the iTunes Store following its release until, you guessed it, Adele snatched the record a couple of years later. All I can say is that people are idiots.

Wow, this was a wild ride. It's a wonderful melting pot of groovy tribal funk, warm bassy jazz, afro-soul and even hints of reggae as well, with the heritage of War's members shining through really tastefully and genuinely. A couple of tracks err on the lengthier side, but they earn their running time through being consistently interesting and engaging. Amazing discovery which has made its way onto my purchase list.

A very conflicting listen given developments in recent years. Listening now, it all smacks of shock for shock's sake and "look at me, I'm a freak, can't you see I am" posturing. When MM gets out of the way and lets the music do more of the talking, this does go hard at points, with Trent Reznor's contributions doing the heavy lifting in making the songs compelling. As far as industrial metal goes, though, there are ample examples of it being done better and to a less infringing degree elsewhere.

Some competent enough early punk, although with the sort of grotty, over the top lyricism that I've got very little time for. Yeah, it probably was influential in some way, but it's a listening experience which doesn't lend itself well to 2025. Two stars for having a bit of energy to it, I guess.

This is all over the place as far as my enjoyment levels are concerned. The omnipresent hits do a lot of the heavy lifting, particularly "Knowing Me, Knowing You" which is genuinely a top quality tune, though the other major events have overplayed themselves into such territories that I'd quite happily never have to hear them again. The deeper cuts are very much a mixed bag, the more up-tempo tracks faring better than the wet balladeering type ones, though none pop out at me as missed opportunities for further stardom.

I wouldn't call myself a fan of Oasis (or the subculture that surrounds them as an entity) by any means, and Liam Gallagher's whining does cut through me somewhat, however I can recognise that this has got some cracking tunes on it. It's the only album of theirs I've ever got on with, as it feels that bit more scrappy (in relative terms) with a stronger emphasis towards shoegaze and that swirling style of riffage, which became lost to some degree on the follow up. It's not something I'd ever actively seek out, but over a few beverages in a beer garden in the summer, you could do a lot worse.

This is amongst the upper echelons of Bowie's back catalogue IMO. It captures a delicate balance between his artsy side and his more accessible, radiant rocking side. The bass-lines throughout are incredible, with an invitingly funky feel to them, whilst on the flip side there is a constant tension laid bare across all facets of the album, owing to Bowie's physical and mental state at the time of its recording. The man was quite literally wasting away but smashed out a banging album purely on adrenaline (and the white stuff).

This is only my second ever listen to what I'm aware is widely regarded as a classic album. I can see why - it's chock full of tasty riffs and has a very dark, moody atmosphere reverberating throughout it. Particularly of interest to me are the songs which take on an almost Middle Eastern feel, such as "Head Down", and the more expansive offerings where the tension and misery shine through the strongest. Vocals are often a bone of contention for me within grunge/hard rock, but Chris Cornell finds himself in that ideal sweet-spot of not being too yarling or overbearing for me, and his lyrics tell profound stories of dealing with depression, isolation, substance abuse and other unrest. Easy to see how this would have struck a chord with the vast audience in which it did. The length is an issue which slightly detracts from the replayability factor for me, though it is a dynamic enough experience to warrant the majority of its stay.

This was a bit like if you were to put The Distillers through some dull, vacuous mainstream pop rock filter. There's even a track on here called "Dull Life" to not-so-subtly qualify that. It constantly plays out as though it's desperately begging to be let off its leash, but the air-conditioned, corporate production and its tendency to segway into half-baked, "delicate" slop just as it promises to build up a head of steam, ensures that it all remains a bit tepid and flat. The Spotify version has FOUR acoustic bonus tracks tacked on at the end, which is where I cut my losses.

Prior to today, I couldn't tell you a single thing about Kiss or name you a single member other than Gene Simmons, who has been known to cause a stir on occasion with some off-handed comments. After listening to this, I couldn't tell you a single thing about it either, other than that it's some serviceable enough hard rock, but ultimately a bit throwaway.

Decent when it cuts straight to the point and lets loose, but it's somewhat dull across appreciable portions and a bit gratuitous on occasion. It felt way longer than 46 minutes. Two stars seems slightly harsh, but I'm not overly convinced it deserves three either.

This was mildly amusing to begin with, but the longer it went on, the deeper my stomach plunged into a pit of existential dread. Musically it's a passable enough fusion of disco, funk and pub rock, if a bit shallow, but this geezer might be the most irritating vocalist I've been subjected to as part of this challenge. That's no mean feat when the likes of Anthony Kiedis, Billy Corgan, Damon Albarn, Emmylou Harris, Elvis Presley and the sheep-human mutant from The Flying Burrito Brothers have been served up at various points. We get it guvna, you're desperate for sex. It's like a pub joke gone way too far.

This man is, quite simply, a revelation. It takes a special kind of talent to notch up a performance of this calibre on an entirely improvisational basis, at the dead of night and with a last minute substituted, hastily tuned and adjusted baby grand piano. It's those imperfections and limitations with the instrument heard, combined with Keith Jarrett's boundless creativity, that firmly imprint this recording into the history books. An emotionally poignant and immensely passionate showing, not just through the breathtaking playing in and of itself, but also through the interspersed vocal ticks and welps of enthusiasm from Keith Jarrett that give the recording a deep-seated interpersonal feel. I wish I could have been there.

A decent enough listen, with the first half of the album conceptually focusing on chartering the various phases of life from childhood to old age. It sounds considerably ahead of its time for 1968 in terms of its production values, and I appreciated the "louder" moments where the bass guitar rose to greater prominence in the mix, accompanied on occasion by some orchestral elements. The problem is, I'm really not sure if I'd ever actively revisit as it requires being in such a sombre, despondent headspace to allow it to properly envelop you, whilst also being a low-key affair sonically.

I don't really rate The Who aside from a few isolated offerings, or indeed this album. It's just a bunch of scrappy, incohesive nonsense with someone whining and groaning over the top of it, whilst sounding like it was recorded with a Sony Ericsson sent back in time. Maybe there's a deeper meaning at play here, but I don't care to try and make any sense of it.

It's not my go to Pink Floyd, or even anywhere near my favourite records of theirs, but it's still got some landmark tracks ("Another Brick in the Wall Pt.2", "Mother", and of course, "Comfortably Numb"), and it really does offer up quite the positively disorientating experience. Quite markedly different from the psychedelic, atmospheric nature of their earlier works, it's a difficult, suffocating listen in some respects, but the pay-off is bountiful.

Whenever I've tried with R.E.M. in the past, Automatic For The People aside, I've never been that impressed. I just find them mildly boring at best, and quite irritating in some instances. This one began promisingly, but the style of vocals quickly wore thin, and there wasn't an awful amount of variety between tracks aside from a couple of standouts ("Finest Worksong", "Welcome to the Occupation" and "Lightnin' Hopkins"). I know these guys receive a lot of love, but I just don't understand it personally.

When this is at its unhinged best, or at its most tender, it really is great and worthy of its place in Bowie's catalogue. This felt like something of a "full circle" album calling back to Bowie's 1970s stylings, whilst sounding contemporary and fresh. Most impressive is how he was able to capture the sprawling, expansive feel of an album such as Station to Station within much more condensed track lengths, knitting them together into a collective piece that truly takes you on a journey. There were a couple of lesser events across its running time which didn't leave as significant of an impression, but they formed the minority of what is broadly a strong album.

It's a well-executed rendition of a musical style that I generally can't stand whatsoever. His vocals got on my nerves a fair bit, and it's all a bit saccharine for me. The nice, warm bass was a positive feature throughout.

A pure manifestation of early punk, of course it deserves to be on here. It's a record that I rarely ever seek out as it's maybe that little bit too pure compared to the sort of punk I typically like (UK anarcho wave, crust and hardcore mostly), but it always promises a good time and offers a firm reminder of just how important/influential it really was.

If the powers that be were compiling a "1001 Lift Music Albums You Have To Manage Not To Fall Asleep Through Before You Die" challenge, then this would make a prime candidate for inclusion. Unfortunately, it's wormed its way into the wrong list and I'd have failed at the first attempt.

This is absolutely mad and unique for its time. Although it's an early industrial album sonically, I'd also regard it as punk in the sense of it having that DIY "fuck you, we'll convey our message however we want" attitude. And boy, did they. Who else was making anything as abrasive and unnerving as this with power tools, metal plates and other shit they found in the local scrap heap, whilst tying it together into something which oddly flows together seamlessly against the odds? You perhaps had Cabaret Voltaire, Clock DVA, SPK and Test Dept occupying similar spaces in terms of releasing overwhelming, challenging music with unconventional instruments, although Kollaps took the idea to a whole different level. Einstürzende Neubauten went on to do even better things IMO, but Kollaps deserves to be acknowledged here nonetheless. I've got Halber Mensch, Hans der Lüge and Silence is Sexy in my collection, any of which would have also been more than justified inclusions in this list by taking the experimentation apparent here into different, but equally thrilling directions. Kollaps is, however, on my wishlist.

Overblown, nauseating 1980s toss for the most part, plainly trying so hard to be weird yet it somehow manages to be utterly vacuous for much of its running time. A few interesting ideas - a broken clock is right a couple of times a day, I guess, but I've no inclination to revisit the complete package whatsoever.

I adore Brian Eno and the mystique / unpredictability associated with his works. This is one of the weirder records he's put his name to, with a disorientating, off-kilter thread accentuating what you could otherwise describe as a relatively conventional experience by his standards, in terms of the songs generally following defined structures and possessing 70s pop-like sensibilities. It feels like a refinement of the first phase of his career into a creative apex, with his subsequent shift towards ambient music hinting that he also felt as such. The bass guitar is up to all kinds of wizardry throughout, the piano playing is completely deranged at points, and the distorted vocals / anxiety-inducing synth work entwined with some juxtaposing optimistic tones ensures that Before and After Science lives in my head rent free.

Absolutely top notch beats and soundscapes, with some tastefully incorporated influences from world and African music to enhance the experience. One of my favourite electronic albums from the 90s, of which there are many excellent ones. The top review for Leftism on the site describes it as "background music from a PS2 racing game" - I perhaps wouldn't necessarily disagree, but for me that's a huge part of the appeal and charm of this album. I listen to this and feel like I've been transported to another era where life was a lot simpler and people were generally a lot happier.

I guess I just "Don't Believe the Hype" as I found this totally unlistenable. Way too obnoxious and in your face with no pockets of breathing room, riddled with irritating noises and the beats were fairly rudimentary/unvaried. I appreciate that the lyricism could be seen as cutting edge for the time, but it's all delivered in such an unpalatable way for my tastes.

A very specific mood is required for this one, but in the perhaps ~5% of cases where the stars align for me, this album works a treat. It gives off the feeling of being engineered for a light plod at dusk, or to be listened to over some mulled wine in a tiny, creaky, tucked away bar that few ever seem to visit. A warm, but also strangely distant listening experience in some ways.

OK, it's not on streaming. No problem, I'll dust off the old YouTube. 64 minutes long? Hmmm, pushing it perhaps but let's see what this is all about then... ...what we have is a house album that sounds every bit its age. Apparently these lads were pioneers of pop sampling in the 1980s and one of the earliest EDM acts that gained popularity in the UK, but I've never so much as heard of them. Has anyone? Well, at least I've found something that my Mum might like...

Somewhat against the odds, this was winning me over to begin with. Yes, the first few tracks are a type of warbly indie that in most circumstances I'd turn my nose up at, but there was enough weirdness, detachment and a trippy, psychedelic feel to them, combined with some compelling songwriting to ensure that they weren't just pretentious, aimless rubbish. The longer the album went on, however, it disappeared further up its own arse in such a frustrating way, largely becoming background music until a brief second wind towards its latter third. There's just about enough going on here for the remote possibility that I'd revisit at some stage, but I'm not entirely sure when I'd take it upon myself to.

I'm largely a novice when it comes to Talking Heads - I like, and own Remain in Light on vinyl but have never dived any deeper than that. On my first listen to this one, I think I prefer it over the latter. A consistently weird and angular, yet strangely inviting album in some respects. The funky, rhythmic bass is to die for, there is a paranoia hanging over it that keeps me intrigued and on edge at all times, and the well-pronounced production allows the songs to come to life. I've just ordered it on vinyl and can't wait to explore further.

Getting an album called "Younger Than Yesterday" on my birthday :laughing: Anyway, this was just a bit "eh", although, fortunately, it does come in at a very respectable sub-30 minutes. It's a jubilant folk/country rock album that manages to remain on the right side of my personal threshold, without captivating me to any great extent. It features an alumni from earlier in my challenge in Hugh Masekela, who does contribute a couple of nice tricks to the experience, but it's not one I can see myself wanting to repeat in future.

My general apathy towards hip hop is well documented (I don't mind some experimental hip hop in the vein of Death Grips, JPEGMAFIA, clipping. etc.) but I've always found this to be far more interesting and dynamic than much of what I've been exposed to in the genre. There's some actual atmosphere and textural depth to the music - equally, when the album opts for an abrasive approach, it doesn't feel forced or tryhard. The beats are wide-ranging and fresh, and the lyricism is genuinely creative and intelligent. It's been an infrequent revisit for me since my initial discovery, but as a result, it never loses its sheen.

A sobering and highly challenging, yet rewarding listening experience. I tend to default to Transformer when I'm looking for my fix of Lou Reed, but this is another fantastic listen and one which has fallen at the perfect time with the changing of the seasons. The depth and breadth of the songwriting and instrumentation here is truly a delight; piano, mellotron, bass trombone, trumpet, sax, acoustics - they all converge into such an enthralling palette. A rock opera conceptually focused on an array of tragic themes, it expands upon the story of an ailing couple first explored in Lou Reed's track "Berlin" from his self-titled debut. It's perhaps one of the most despondent albums I've ever heard.

A rather baffling selection when it comes to Fiona Apple. When the Pawn... is generally viewed as her magnum opus, which I'd be strongly inclined to agree with, but it's nowhere to be found in the 1001 list, with her debut prevailing here instead. That said, Tidal is still an enjoyable listen, however unlike with When the Pawn... I do find my attention wavering at various points as the album advances. This is nowhere near as dextrous or as confident as its successor, but the strong points are very strong indeed. She has a wonderful voice, acting as the vehicle for some very introspective and sentimental lyricism, and the piano arrangements are often delicate, bordering on melancholic, but the album is at its apex when all of its atmospheric elements combine into something grander, louder and generally more memorable.

I wasn't expecting this at all, but I've got to say, it's excellent. An intriguing fusion of 90s euro-trance, trip hop and downtempo; it's clearly ushering in influences from the likes of Massive Attack, Portishead, Culture Beat, Goldie, Björk, Ace of Base etc. but it somehow manages to blend all of them into something unique and thoroughly engaging. One of my all time favourite bands in The Gathering released "How to Measure a Planet" during the same year, where despite the album's generally more prog rock-oriented leanings, Ray of Light surely must have been on their radar to inspire their shift in direction towards similar forms of electronic which are showcased here. There is a mystical, even spiritual thread running through a fair portion of the album, most pronounced in a track such as "Shanti / Ashtangi", with drips and drabs of Middle Eastern instrumentation on a track such as "Skin". The album also has a very personal feel to it, with themes ranging from the birth of Madonna's daughter and of struggles such as heartbreak, but delivered in a more sophisticated manner than your typical pop fare. I can't believe that a Madonna album has been one of my favourite discoveries along this process so far, but here we are. It's going to be purchased.

It is an improvement on Odessa, but let's be honest, just about anything that isn't Odessa is an improvement on Odessa. This felt a bit like a college band attempting their best renditions of The Beatles, David Bowie and Pink Floyd in one fell swoop, whilst remaining blissfully unaware of the fact that their vocalist just cannot fucking sing or pen a decent harmony. It's only 47 minutes long but it felt like double the length, and then some. A load of saccharine, cheesy, pretentious nonsense for the most part.

FF(S). Does anyone really give the slightest shit about these in 2025 beyond "Take Me Out"? The streaming numbers paint a picture, but even that track can be attributed as fairly dated, throwaway "lads out on a bender" guff. An album that can't have too many complaints about being removed from newer editions of the book. Soulless shite.

A very strong debut - in many ways, this is a good encapsulation of what a debut should be. A bit raw and rough around the edges, but with enough confidence to come flying out of the blocks. Dry does a sterling job of combining accessibility and catchiness with attitude, intelligence, some vulnerability and an off-kilter, anxious energy to much of the playing. It's able to remain consistently interesting from track to track due to ample variations in structure, mood and quietness/loudness. It's been on my purchase list for some time, and I will be addressing that sooner rather than later.

This might be the sliding doors moment where I finally understand what all the fuss is about with Echo and the Bunnymen. Whenever I've tried in the past, including one of their other albums I've had so far during this process, I've always found them competent enough, but the music would wash over me. Turns out I'd just been listening to the wrong Bunnymen for where my tastes are at - this grabbed me from the word go, and never let go. Nice, rich bass-lines, a great drum sound, it occasionally goes for that angular style of playing akin to Wire, Magazine et al (most notably so on "Happy Death Men") but it also has a gothy, detached coldness to it. Definitely something of a revelatory listen, it's gone onto the purchase list.

The opener "Chivalry" houses what is surely one of the worst vocal performances I've ever heard, with absolutely no exaggeration on my part. I'm undecided whether it's a deliberate work of genius or just a load of obnoxious wailing. In fact, that sentiment can be applied to the album as a whole in a sonic regard, although it improves markedly from there on. This is an utterly bizarre and consistently thrilling punk/alt-country album - I was dreading it based on the brief Wiki description, but alas my fears were misplaced. Imagine The Damned undergoing frontal lobotomies and chucking some steely Americana guitar / harmonica into the mix, and you aren't a million miles off. Why the fuck do I like this when I generally hate anything vaguely resembling country with a burning passion? Perhaps I'll never be able to understand.

This is the only R.E.M. record that's ever done much for me. It felt like their songwriting craft took a massive leap forwards at this stage, away from the jangly indie nonsense and middling alt-rock of their earlier works into something much more memorable and engaging. It combines moroseness and self-reflection with energy, vigour and rich, yet relatively simplistic soundscapes.

I've never been a megafan of Motörhead; I'm of the opinion that they'd make for a great "best of" compilation, but I never tend to gravitate towards any of their records. They know what they're good at, and they do it well but the lack of deviations in style can become a bit fatiguing after a while. This, as a live album, delivers on the mission statement in that many of the classics are represented, and it benefits from a gritty, unpolished sound to give the songs an added edge. The standard version is fairly tight at 43 minutes - there is an extended version but I'm quite content to give that a pass for the moment. As for whether I'd revisit? Possibly, but I'm not in any great hurry.

Too long, overblown, a bit pompous, a bit tedious and a bit directionless. There are some cool instrumental licks interspersed here and there, and the concept surrounding the album is interesting at the very least, but the album never seems to have any idea of where it actually wants to go and I had to research/read into the concept whilst listening to make any sense of it. As soon as the album begins to build up a head of steam following a central idea, it falls into a perpetual loop of wanking itself into a coma - rinse and repeat.

It's David Bowie, so of course I like it. Whilst Aladdin Sane perhaps isn't as daring a body of work as the preceding Ziggy Stardust, also not quite scaling the same heights, it still strikes a sumptuous balance between catchiness, hooks, tasty grooves and glitzy energy; and Bowie's trademark sprawling, anxious insanity. In many ways, this is an effective distillment of his sound into a relatively accessible package, perfect for when I'm looking for something a bit more straightforward from Bowie whilst not compromising on the quirkiness and character of his previous works.

I have previously heard, and very much enjoy the follow up "Hats" so I was rather excited and hopeful going into this one. I'm kicking myself for never having explored The Blue Nile to any further extent. This is a wonderful synth-pop type album, but far quirkier and a lot more dextrous than your typical fare. The level of care taken to the atmospheric haunts throughout is nothing short of spectacular, supported by frequent bouts of eclectic instrumentation such as the xylophone, flute and unorthodox forms of percussion. The synth work is very In a Silent Way-like in some respects, also reminiscent of some 70s Berlin school electronic. The bass playing, tone and sound ooze class - they culminate in an ethereal, yet rather funky experience all told. The piano arrangements in "Easter Parade" invoke such a sombre, affecting mood, serving as a welcome break within the album akin to something that Mark Hollis would dabble with during his solo career. Another record that ranks amongst my favourite discoveries along this process so far. A 2.86 overall site rating is fucking criminal.

Mostly very inane, and lacking in excitement or memorability. Like a bunch of random jamming put to tape and then stitched together in post-prod. It's surely only in the 1001 to fulfil contractual obligations because it's Damon Albarn and his pals mucking about.

I've never really given Pixies much of a look in as I've always (rightly or wrongly) associated them with a school of grunge that generally just doesn't do a lot for me. I've got Doolittle on vinyl as I found it in a sale box during one of my record shop crawls in London, bought purely on the reputation of the band and incessantly being told I needed to check them out. Think I've played it once and never gone back to it. Anyway, Surfer Rosa is a bit of a curious case on first listen. Instrumentally it's far more chaotic, angular and neurotic than the type of bands I'd have lumped them in with previously, which I think will afford it a revisit down the line. Vocally, I'm not as enamored with that American shrieking/wailing approach, even if it does serve the music effectively, and the rather thin, buzzy production doesn't leave many pockets of space to clutch onto.

As close to a perfect rock album as you could possibly want. Simply magnificent - brooding, reflective, catchy, varied and it flows spectacularly well. I need more Radiohead on vinyl and this is a glaring priority to address.

A really strange one, this. It's deceptively minimalist in terms of the limited pool of instrumentation being showcased, but it manages to make less count by looping passages on top of one another in a very psychedelic fashion, with some reverb-heavy, slightly melodramatic 70s-like vocals and influences from trip hop / electronica adding to the dreamy, kind of smoky vibe going on. It's very clever, but the question is whether it's a bit too clever for its own good at times as to feel inviting enough for a relisten. It worked fairly well today as a lazy morning in bed type of album.

A fun, and fairly unorthodox 80s pop offering for the time in terms of the songs not relying as closely on vocal hooks. The funky bass, saxophone and optimistic tones employed throughout are a delight; they're nothing overly sophisticated or virtuosic, but in this case they don't need to be to capture my interest. This is maybe a record where I'd struggle to single out one particular track or two as my favourites, but there aren't any notable dips throughout. This was close to getting four stars from me - it's not quite purchase material, though.

This was some nice enough background music, but it didn't really satisfy what I was after today. Maybe my IQ just isn't high enough to appreciate the genius on offer here.

Not a fan of this at all. In fact, I can feel the first knockings of a migraine brewing after attempting to endure around half an hour of it. She has a hugely irritating voice, the "grandiosity" and overdone theatrics of the album annoyed me from the word go, there are practically no opportunities for breathing room throughout what I managed - sonically it just goes on and on like a hyperactive cartoon child having just paid a visit to the sweet shop, and the attempt at incorporating influences from various genres felt haphazard at best. If you need me, I'll be hunched in the corner decompressing to "Ambient Birds Vol. 37"

I'm no expert on African Blues (I literally only have other stylistically similar 1001 offerings as reference points); this felt like a good quality example of something that's so far out of my wheelhouse, it might as well be on another planet. I didn't afford this its near-hour long running time, but I can't in good conscience give it a 💩/5 as per my usual "DNF" process.

This is at its best when it opts for a more light-hearted, straight rock and roll type of vibe - Stewart really does have that slightly gravelly, alcohol/nicotine weathered voice to match up perfectly with the music. Every Picture... comes flying out of the traps with the sort of swagger and grit I've also come to expect from Faces. The various shifts towards folk rock from the album's midsection onwards, in the vein of Simon & Garfunkel, were slightly off-putting; not due to any gripes with the quality, but the jarring comedown-like manner in which they were introduced. It really disrupts the momentum built during the album's early exchanges.

I have dallied with Sonic Youth in the past, and actually happen to own one of their records in "Goo" as another bargain purchase made off the back of the endless praise I'd heard for it/the band. I've never found a huge amount to grasp onto with Sonic Youth on previous attempts, and somehow glossed over this album which appears to be held in some of the highest esteem within their catalogue. Whilst I did enjoy large spells of Daydream Nation on my first listen, appreciating the manner in which they married angularity with relative accessibility compared to some of their other entries, it is a touch too long and my engagement did ebb and flow at varying points. Again, there's never really a focal point within the music that screams out at you and demands your attention; rather, this felt like a "sum of its parts" type of record meant to be taken in as a sprawling, curious experience. There's definitely enough going on here to warrant a revisit, but I'm not sure it's a record that I'd ever come to love or be itching to purchase in future.

Perfect lazy Saturday morning music with a healthy dose of gloom attached to it. Nick Drake's despondent crooning, fused with mystical, emotionally poignant folk instrumentation, haunting string arrangements and the immersive production of the album owing to its recording whilst Drake was surrounded by a "semicircle of instruments" in a multilevel studio, all culminates in a great listen. This is getting purchased, and I will be exploring further.

There's not a great deal wrong with this - it's a reasonable listen, and comes in it a decent half hour in length, but equally there's little that has me hankering for a return. It's perhaps a bit too rudimentary in its rock and roll stylings to leave me with much to chew onto, and doesn't give off the feel of an essential listen.

Similarly to the last The Verve album I've had; this was a lot better than I was expecting, even if it is a bit overblown in phases and an exhausting listen in one sitting without being in the right mindset. The songs on "Urban Hymns" generally felt more dextrous, textured, varied and accomplished than "A Northern Soul", earning this an extra star over its predecessor, and it's the psychedelic nuances on offer here compared to some of their Britpop compatriots that make The Verve a more compelling case for a revisit (and perhaps a purchase in future).

Disposable it is indeed. Tedious, unaffecting, "man shouts at cloud" nonsense. I couldn't care less if the lyrics are forward thinking or socially conscious, the music does literally nothing for me.

Thoroughly depressing stuff really. It possesses all the edge of those wooden spoons that come with mini tubs of ice cream at service stations, and all the danger of the lint I just scraped out from my belly button. If this album was a meal deal, it would be a plain ham sandwich, bag of ready salted crisps and a bottle of water. If it was a car, it would be a Vauxhall Astra. If it was a football commentator, it would be Michael Owen. If it was a TV show, it would be Deal or No Deal. If it was a town in the UK, it would be Grantham. If it was a video game, it would be Euro Truck Simulator. If it was a book, it would be a phone directory. If it was a past-time, it would be staring at your guinea pig predicting when it will yawn. No offence intended to any enjoyers of those things, or inhabitants of Grantham.

When this popped up, my preconceptions were that it would be a relatively unsophisticated hard rock album in the vein of something like AC/DC. I'm happy to have been proven wrong on that front, even if I'm not currently of the view that all of the ideas executed here are a resounding success. This album takes you on a journey through jazz rock, blues rock, prog, cabaret, and it even becomes somewhat theatrical at various stages, though few of the ideas ever seem to be fully embraced or locked into, resulting in a curious but fairly disorientating experience (maybe that was the intention). Alice Cooper's vocal style teeters on the threshold of becoming overbearing for me at points as well - not a huge issue in the grand scheme of things, though. This is an album that merits further exploration, and one that probably requires a degree of perseverance.

All in all, an enjoyable time was had here. I wasn't sold on the vocals to begin with, which very much sit in a higher register and have an airy, breathy quality to them on occasion, but I was able to come around to them quite quickly. The instrumentation here is compelling enough - funky, groovy playing interlaced with tinges of soul. It's very much a "vibe" of a sound. The album probably does peak early throughout its first half, but the drop off in the second isn't a seismic one. This was on the precipice of getting four stars - but perhaps just not quite memorable enough to justify a purchase.

This largely felt like second rate Britpop; a subgenre that I already don't hold the greatest level of affection for. The vocals are a clear attempt at aping Liam Gallagher / Richard Ashcroft and really began to grate before too long. Instrumentally, it threatens to become mildly interesting when it plumps for that swirling, loosely psychedelic style of riffage, however whilst sounding like it's being played in your next door neighbour's bedroom. "One to Another" was the only real standout, vaguely encroaching into stoner rock territories.

Whilst this isn't my favourite of Brian Eno's works, it's still a hugely important album in the shaping of a genre, and a wonderful listen. The piano arrangements are deeply affecting, invoking such a sombre and reflective mood, whilst the modular synths embody a cathartic release of agonistic tension. The final track "2/2" gives off a more optimistic impression, not just longing for what could have been, but also what might be. Fantastic album and one which works a treat for me regardless of the headspace I'm in.

Whenever I've tried this album in the past, I've been left intrigued but rather disoriented by the experience on each occasion. There's a metric ton of stuff going on here; some of it works well for me, but some of it continues to leave me puzzled. The hip hop elements grow in palatability, quality and creativity as the album advances, but the opening sequence of tracks is rough on the ears and a bit of an ordeal to plough through. The hardcore punk elements feel a bit tacked on and unnecessary for me, but the tinges of funk and has jazz throughout the album work spectacularly well on occasion, particularly on "Futterman's Rule" and when interlaced with tracks that are primarily hip hop in style, ensuring there's at least something I can latch onto. It's a difficult album to navigate and stomach in one sitting - I probably will return down the line to see if I can eke more out of it, but I'm doubtful it will ever fully win me over.

This is a great album. How it manages to sound so otherworldly and alien, yet inviting to the ears is an incredible feat. It's a consistently gripping experience owing to the sheer variety of moods, soundscapes and influences being brought to the table. From the radiant opener "Movin' On Up", to the frosty "Inner Flight" and the introspective "Damaged" reflecting on withdrawing from a past relationship, there's hardly a dull moment. I wasn't around when this album would have been making waves, but I can absolutely imagine how this would have been such a fresh proposition when it arrived. It still holds up pretty damn well now, too.

Perfect. Just perfect. If you were to have asked me at the start of this process what I thought the best album on the entire list was, based on those I would've been familiar with at that time, Violator would have been a firm contender if not the album I'd have suggested. That could well remain the case after I'm finished in two and a half years time. A masterful marriage of darkness, wistfulness and charm.

This is one of the most joyous 40 minute experiences you'll ever have in music. The perfect balancing act of technicality, quirkiness and catchiness. Going to let my 5 star rating speak for itself here as I'm running on fumes today, and don't have much to splurge out onto my screen. Somehow I don't have this on vinyl, but that's going to be rectified immediately.

Whilst Amnesiac is often viewed as a lesser sibling to Kid A given it comprises tracks that were deemed unessential/unfitting a year prior, it's an incredible album in its own right nonetheless, arguably encroaching into even more experimental territories than its predecessor. A dense, glacially tinged experience, the feelings of detachment and isolation within Kid A are more than potent here as well, but it's an album I've been consistently fascinated by and drawn to despite its self-contained, unwelcoming nature. It sounds like it's from another universe entirely, as though we shouldn't have access to it but somehow do. I vividly remember hearing "Pulk / Pull Revolving Doors" for the first time several years back - the experience was akin to having my soul airlifted into the cosmos.

A white man saying "negro" and the hard "N" isn't a great look, but when you dig into the context of the album's concept being a satirist's take on the racist underbelly of the American south, it becomes slightly more excusable. A kind of singer-songwriter piano rock album infused with string arrangements, musically it's a pleasant enough, and well-layered listen, if a bit unremarkable. Not something I'd ever reach for again, but I didn't hate it.

A very 90s sounding album, but not in a bad way as such. The fusion of acid jazz, baggy and hip hop culminates in a fun time and a listen that flies by fairly quickly, relative to the album's running time. I can imagine a world where some of these tunes would've nestled their way into nightclubs, though there weren't many moments or individual offerings which made themselves truly known above the rest.

Great production quality, especially for 1973, but this brand of funk/soul was a little too busy for me. The vocal approach began to grate quickly, and the music offers up little breathing room or much in the way of dynamics within songs.

On first glance, I thought the title said "Introducing the Hairline" and I now refuse to unsee it. Anyway, I was familiar with a handful of tracks here, not least the opener "If You All Get to Heaven" and "I'll Never Turn My Back On You", but the rest of this was new to me. It's very 80s stylistically and in terms of its production values; chock full of snazzy, funky bass lines and quirky brass instrumentation, and it has that "futurist" vibe of the time largely owing to the synth work, which does date it somewhat, but not to any significantly detrimental effect for me. The vocals sit on just the right side of my threshold when it comes to soul - a nice light mezzo register, and not too show off-y as D'Arby seems to have a firm handle on what his capabilities are. His vocals don't dominate proceedings, allowing the instrumentation to shine alongside them. Comparing this to yesterday's offering 3+3, this also felt far more varied in terms of its approach to songwriting - between spacious pop balladeering and more up-tempo cuts, the album avoids blending into one homogenous blob unlike the latter. I do wonder when I'd sit down and actively reach for this again, but it's an enjoyable listen.

High Violet has been in my collection for a couple of years - I bought it whilst on my travels on a complete whim, as similarly to the Pixies record, The National were a band I'd seen being praised widely and that had been recommended to me incessantly by friends and pub-goers alike. When I got home from my staycation, I gave it a spin and ultimately was left wishing I'd asked the cashier for a receipt. I thought it was moribund and one of the most thoroughly dull albums I'd ever heard, so it sat on my shelves collecting dust until fairly recently. From what I can remember, I'd had a bit of a crap day and wanted to see if an album that I'd dismissed as being too morose for me would reveal itself further whilst I was in a more compatible headspace. In some ways, it did provide a suitable soundtrack for my woes, but I still wouldn't be able to reel off too many discernible, standout features about it. Vocally, Matt Berninger has that somewhat "apathetic" style which doesn't allow his vocal passages or lyrics to really endear themselves to me. The music very much follows a similar vein - the album kind of just floats around and fills a hole whilst it's on, without being particularly memorable. High Violet will most likely be joining my clearout pile and collecting copious amounts of dust again for the foreseeable future.

Bah, humbug. I did get through the whole thing at least, so go me. I'm now off to drown myself in black metal.

Some of the beats/backdrops on this are actually pretty good and mood-evoking - there's more than a hint of soul throughout the album. Bin off the vocals/lyrics and you'd have something that I might chuck on as background music. As it stands, though, this is just absolutely not my thing.

Anything Can or Can-adjacent is guaranteed to land with me. This Holger Czukay solo effort is no exception, but on first inspection, it's a somewhat different type of weird and wonderful to the exploits of Can. A boundlessly creative in its utilisation of sampling and layering, I can absolutely see how this would have been groundbreaking for the time. I was toying with giving it five stars, but it's perhaps not quite on the same level as "Future Days" or "Tago Mago".

Pretty rubbish for the most part, with only fleeting flickers of vigour and weirdness vaguely retaining my interest throughout a mind numbingly tepid experience otherwise. In a world where we have approximately all bar one or two Beatles records and another John Lennon solo effort in the 1001, this is a wholly superfluous inclusion and a waste of valuable space / resources.

I think it's safe to assume on my part, on my second Beastie Boys 1001 listen, that I'm just not really a fan of what they do and likely never will be. This was way too confrontational and "in your face" for me vocally for large spells, and whilst the rap-rock fusion and lyricism occasionally yielded some compelling ideas and cool links/through lines to other artists in mainstream rock culture, it didn't provide enough reward to offset the fatiguing nature of the listening experience.

The music itself isn't too bad, but those vocals... JFC.

Very pleasant, listenable, classy and another one of those albums from well before my era that I'm pleased to have heard, despite it not being "my thing". It absolutely merits its inclusion here, but I'm highly unlikely to ever reach for it again.

Another agreeable enough listen, but one that leaves next to no lasting impression. A slightly jazzy soft rock type of album, there were occasional bouts of instrumentation that did pique my interest, owing to the crystal clear production allowing them to pop. Otherwise, I'm struggling to note down much else.

Yet another perfectly enjoyable album whilst it was on, but another one that I can't see myself being in any hurry to put on again. The cool, funky, varied guitar licks and the ever-important, defiantly optimistic social commentary really should dictate otherwise, so this is perhaps just a case of not being in the right mood for it to fully envelop me today. [that day came just over a month later on 23rd February. A mate encouraged me to relisten and it worked a lot better for me in a different headspace. Duly upgraded to 4 stars.]

Not viewed particularly favourably on the 1001 site - and to a certain extent, I can understand why, as the production job and synth work date it a hell of a lot, and it's very typically quirky and corny for the early 80s period. One of the top reviews remarks that it's a "cut-rate Peter Gabriel knock off" album, and in some ways I wouldn't disagree. However, I'm a fan of Peter Gabriel and have an inexplicable soft spot for cheesy 80s rock, so I largely enjoyed this, even if I wouldn't actively plump for it over the latter. It's perhaps not quite purchase material, but not far off.

When I say that I generally can't stand hip hop, this album is one of several exceptions for me. It's dynamic, packed with rich textures, genuinely dangerous, cultured, thought provoking and impactful. It does err somewhat on the lengthy side, but virtually all of its length is warranted due to the variety from track to track, and the attention to songwriting craft paid throughout. I don't reach for this very often, but when I do, it's a firm reminder that even my least enjoyed genres can, and do have their bright spots.

To begin with, this was trending towards being a half decent and fairly palatable hip hop album with some interesting lyrical concepts, but it just went on far too long, and the stylistic samey-ness of it all meant that it blurred into my peripheral listening quickly. Not terrible for what it is, but evidently not my thing.

I don't remember the last The Byrds album that I was dealt being as dreary or as listless as this one. There's practically no variation from track to track, each of them occupying a similarly dull jangly rock space and seemingly on a sequential mission to outdo themselves in the dullness stakes. The title track in particular is an abomination. A proper mood killer.

A discovery I made only last year in 2025, the time that I've spent with it since has only allowed it to reveal itself further to me. A wonderfully reflective, Hebrew-adorned swansong album wherein Cohen's weathered, raspy and barely above a whisper vocals tell profound stories centred on his life, imminent death and romance, entwined with gorgeous, emotionally rich orchestral / bass heavy soundscapes. That the geezer was literally crumbling away in his living room whilst recording this only adds to the desolate feel that "You Want It Darker" exudes. 100% deserves to be on this list, and then some.

Some great momentum gathering again as I close in on the 200 milestone. This is one of my favourite electronic albums of all time, and quite simply a game changer for the era. The opener "Juanita: Kiteless: To Dream Of Love" is up there as one of the best songs I've ever heard, particularly so with the remastered version where a greater clarity is afforded to it. A mesmerising journey from start to finish across 16 minutes, it runs with the burgeoning progressive house sound of the early to mid 90s, and evolves it into something which transcends time and oozes class. A masterful exercise of controlled repetition and subtle, layered transitions. The rest of the album isn't too shabby, either, venturing into all manner of territories henceforth. Ethereal, atmospheric drum and bass? You've got that on the following "Banstyle / Sappy's Curry". Minimalist, yet simultaneously ground shudderingly bassy techno? "Confusion The Waitress" has you covered. Dizzying acid trance in the vein of Spicelab / Juno Reactor whilst amplifying it to new heights? There's "Rowla". An early example of hardstyle breakbeat being fused with atmo-trance? "Pearl's Girl". A more chilled out, downtempo, vocal led track to offer some respite and reflection towards the album's conclusion? Yep, you've got that as well with "Stagger". Suffice to say, I think any fan of electronic music simply HAS to have this record in their collection.

This is a great way to spend half an hour or so. Precisely my brand of southern / blues rock - hip shaking riffage and catchy vocal inflections which brought Clutch to mind, with a real confidence and swagger to it along with a tangible thread of experience and nous. You could say that many of the tracks here follow a similar template, but there was enough variety through the smaller details to ensure that each of them had their own distinctive character. Onto the wishlist this goes.

I knew the track "We Swim" quite well due to it being on one of the FIFA games back in the day (13 or 14, can't remember which). The rest of this album was new to me, though it felt like something I'd already heard hundreds of times before as it gives off TV advert vibes. A vaguely catchy in patches, but chiefly uninteresting retro-futurist synth pop album, it's sorely lacking in humanity - the whole thing just sounds so manufactured, whilst the lyrics largely comprise that "I'm not like the other girls!!" slop which I've no time for.

This was an album that I came to fairly late when getting into Metallica, and it's perhaps resultantly one that I don't have as much enthusiasm for compared to others in their catalogue. I'm loathe to be one of those "tHeY WeNt rAdIo MeTaL" types - there are undoubtedly some great moments on here amongst the more mid-tempo, groovy floor fillers, but there is a fair amount of fat you have to hack away at to get to the juicy innards, and I'm consistently left wanting for the breakneck speed and unpredictability of their earlier works. When the album does opt to pick up the pace somewhat, the attempts to do so feel somewhat misguided, lacking and/or forced, and much of the rest drones on a bit too much for my liking in a homogenous fashion.

Another one that I've had in my collection for ages after picking it up in a bargain bin sale, but that I've never bothered with. This record is a definite improvement on the debut, generally being easier to stomach vocally and it has a stronger sense of songwriting nous. The big hits/obvious highlights here do the heavy lifting. However, I can't help but find the overall experience still somewhat fatiguing - particularly as the back half went on, I was eyeing up putting something else on. This could end up joining the clearout pile as I'm not sure when I'd elect to put it on again.

This is a worldie. Talk about albums that evoke such unique moods, doing so in ways which would've felt groundbreaking at the time - Dummy is absolutely one of those. Atmospheric, smokey, sexual soundscapes, entwined with Beth Gibbons' heavenly vocals, a gentle low-end, wobbly bass that ebbs, flows and pulsates, and a sort of James Bond-vibe running through the album; Dummy sounds like it's from another dimension, yet it somehow retains more than a thread of relatability and humanity through Gibbons' soulful, but often anguished vocal expressions, with lyrical themes ranging from social isolation, navigating difficulties in relationships, separation/loss and the resulting insecurities that those issues bring. The whole album feels like an agonistic release and a cry for warmth, affection and and connection. Is this the ultimate "lazy day in bed" album to make love to? It's certainly up there.

I only very recently gave this a first play, where I immediately enjoyed it but recognised the potential for it to be unlocked further. I'm glad that it's swung its way back around in my direction today, as that's exactly what has happened. This is a deceptively smooth listen, sonically vibrant and mellow whilst making complexity accessible - it's acoustic folk rock packed with cheer, encroaching into psychedelia on occasion courtesy of the positively disorientating brass instrumentation, whilst also being accentuated by some wonderful orchestral bouts. The lyrical themes, of what I was able to hone in on, seemed to paint a juxtaposing, darker picture, fantastically at odds with the music. In terms of its production values, Forever Changes is crystal clear and has aged fantastically well, with the bass guitar in particular really being given license to roam and shine. This is definitely a purchase for me.

I should be all over a slab of Norwegian punk / hard rock which surely acted as a key influence towards the likes of Kvelertak; however, whilst I'm acutely aware of the unserious vibe they were going for here, this just felt a bit too silly. Really daft, corny lyrics, over the top glam-esque flavourings, excessive swearing which blunts its impact and the production on this just sounds like absolute arse. If I want arse sounding production, I'll cut the middle man out and just listen to black metal.

The basis of this recording is brilliant - how many people out there can say that they've put on a live performance in a prison and put it to tape? Then you have a pungent sense of wit and humour wafting through the album courtesy of Cash's lyricism and his patter with the audience, providing for a consistent positive throughout. The arrangements here are simplistic, but raw and engaging, with a veil of darkness and irony shrouding them despite the minimalist instrumentation. Despite that, there were a couple of great individual moments here as well which bucked the trend - not least the wicked drum fills on "Orange Blossom Special" and the duet on "Jackson". I was worried at first that many of these tracks would blur into one and comprise a similar template, but there was just enough variation throughout the album to retain my interest. I've never really sat down with any of Johnny Cash's material before, but maybe I should.

It's Rush, so of course I enjoyed giving this a whirl, even if it isn't among my favourites within their canon. There's just the right blend of goofiness, technicality and catchiness going on here, and for me this marks the first Rush record where they really began to spread their wings and serve up an indication towards the greatness that would follow with their following four uninterrupted classics in A Farewell to Kings through to Moving Pictures. The 20 minute, no holds barred opener "2112 (etc)" is an all-timer, but it's perhaps the only offering here that scales the truly heady heights that Rush would later become known for consistently reaching.

About half of this album was unavailable on Spotify, but I did manage to find a complete YouTube playlist from a user called "1001 Albums Journey" who must have encountered the same issue 8 years ago. Anyway, another one to file under "appreciate having heard it but have no desire to revisit". Sounds like exactly the sort of thing you'd hear in a smoke-filled dive bar.

I actually quite enjoyed this one; whether that's because I've had an aneurysm in my sleep, or if A Tribe Called Quest are genuinely a high quality example of hip hop, I should probably get myself checked out just in case. It felt far less one-note and monotonous than much of the hip hop that I've dunked on so far - it's far more "vibey" and moody owing to its atmospheric depth, more varied and palatable vocally with an accomplished flow to the lyrics being delivered, and it takes less of an "in your face" approach where you can almost tune out from the vocals if you so choose. When I did find myself focusing on the lyrics, there wasn't too much cause for concern in that department either, with some interesting, abstract concepts being explored. I'll be chucking this into my "hip hop that I don't mind" playlist, which doesn't get too many runouts, but serves as an occasional reminder that it's probably not the genre in and of itself that I take issue with - rather, the execution in many cases.

Another CCR record, and of course it's another cracker. Do these guys ever miss?

A prime candidate to lend further credence to the argument that more than two or three selections per artist are unnecessary. Hejira, Court and Spark and Blue are plenty enough representation for Joni Mitchell, where this album offers little that the other three don't, despite being a broadly enjoyable listen. Meanwhile, we have barely any extreme metal artists represented aside from one first wave black metal band in Venom, Sepultura and Napalm Death, a criminal lack of classical music, only a surface level assessment of industrial and noise rock, a very anglo-centric view of punk and a disproportionate amount of newer albums from 2010 onwards that largely lean into similar genres.

Just mildly boring for the most part, without being offensive. The vaguely uptempo stuff sounds like the sort of music you'd hear in a hotel lounge, whilst the rest is as though you're watching TV and the next advert unhurriedly pans to a clip of a Yorkshire pudding being doused in only the finest juices, whilst a soft voice caresses "this is not just food, this is M&S food". In fact, I'm sure I have heard one of these tracks on an advert from 15 or so years ago (I'd like to say). *turns to Google for pointers* FINISH DIAMOND STANDARD!

Sigur Rós might be some people's idea of boring, but for me, they're as close to perfect as you can possibly get when it comes to producing weighty, dextrous and impactful post rock. Their ability to invoke such a broad palette of eminently relatable moods through all aspects of their craft and with such a wealth of instrumentation is matched by precious few in the genre; Agætis Byrjun radiating warmth and grasping you into its embrace, whilst it often ebbs into colder, detached and more contemplative passages within the same songs. This, combined with the fascinating degree of flexibility in their songwriting approaches from track to track in terms of them generally following linear structures, but doing so in different sequences to one another to keep proceedings consistently interesting and fresh, and the mystical, yet simultaneously human element that underlines their "Hopelandic" vocal expressions, all culminates in a truly wonderful listening experience. Absolutely no doubt in my mind, this is a five star album.

I actually kind of enjoyed around half of this album - mainly the tracks that clearly sounded as though they were from later recording sessions, weren't as muffled in terms of their production and had some zip to them. Presley's rendition of "Tutti Frutti" is probably the pick of the bunch. There is, however, some absolute cack on here as well, where the tracks meander along lifelessly and the vocals grate on my eardrums (I'm looking at "I Love You Because", "I'll Never Let You Go (Little Darling" and "Blue Moon"). All in all, probably a two star as I can't imagine myself revisiting.

Not bad at all really, but not my kind of thing. Ray Charles does have a great voice and a clearly accomplished grasp of the instruments at his disposal, but with these big band jazz types of albums, I never really feel the urge to revisit.

I thought this was utter shite on my first listen - the sort of drivel perpetuated by individuals with their heads permanently wedged up their own arses. Second listen was a bit better, where some of the humourous, distinctly British quips and playful guitar licks on here were able to come to the surface, but the vocals are difficult to stomach for appreciable portions of this album, and some numbers did still feel quite self-indulgent and aimless.

I was only familiar with the track "Birdland" prior to today's undertaking, which I very much enjoy, but I've never got round to checking this album out. I'm glad that opportunity has come around today, as this is such a radiant, joyful experience all the way through. An album such as this doesn't need vocals to ingrain its catchy sensibilities into you - everything from the electric piano, synthesisers, bass, saxophone, conga drums and even the hand clapping, are transcendent and each possess their own unique abilities to worm their way into your ears. You're consistently left intrigued as to the direction of travel, whilst the songs remain anchored to a central idea and don't ever exude any self-indulgence as can be an issue with some jazz fusion. Everything on here feels vital and like it has a purpose. I'll be purchasing this.

The first track was great, capturing my attention to a greater extent than anything else I've ever heard from Prince. However, the immediate downturn that followed was a sharp one, and a firm reminder of why I absolutely cannot stand Prince. There was literally nothing else half-decent on Disc 1, which is all I managed to get through.

Brutally boring, and the vocals are just not for me. This is the third Elvis Costello album I've had so far, and absolutely nothing about any of them appeals to me in the slightest. I might just default to giving the other 74 albums he has in the 1001 two stars each, as I really cannot be arsed to put myself through any more of his music.

I chuckled at the disparity between how the album cover bigs this up, versus what you actually get. An unsuspecting person might expect a comedic, ironic take on hip hop, but what we have here instead is a listenable, but fairly tame indie album that largely stays in the same lane. In fairness, there wasn't much to actively dislike here, but equally there wasn't much of anything memorable going on across 73 minutes. It's all very pleasant, inoffensive and easily digestible, but perhaps a bit joyless and over-earnest so that it eventually dissipates into background noise.

In customary The Who fashion, this is rather pretentious (not least the silly "radio jingles", introductions/intermissions and laughable attempts at being abstract in a lyrical sense), and at times very grating. However, I did prefer the greater lean into psychedelia that can be observed on this album, and the songs generally seemed more cohesive, with clear structures and comprehensible ideas. I'm still baffled as to their popularity and the esteem in which they are held, but this one won't be joining the shit pile as it wasn't without merit.

A classic, foundational album in heavy metal history. Venom are considered pioneers of black metal by, well, coining the term, and they inspired its future direction by combining the speed and tenacity of Motorhead with the darkness and grottiness of anarcho punk / the UK82 scene, and the satanic lyrical themes of early heavy metal. The likes of Crass, Discharge and Rudimentary Peni loom large here, particularly so on a number such as "Buried Alive" where the track opens up with that disenfranchised, slower, tension-invoking playing, or towards the conclusion of "At War With Satan". It's during those more choatic moments where I feel that the album truly shines, but it's a consistently engaging experience nonetheless. Varg supposedly hates Venom, but most rationally-minded people hate him as well. Now time for a rant / monologue about the scarce representation of metal in the 1001. It's a real shame and a terrible undersight. This is a great start and a more than worthy inclusion, but you'd surely have to acknowledge Bathory and Celtic Frost / Hellhammer as well, as far as first wave black metal is concerned. Then there's no second wave black metal in the list whatsoever - the style that most people would envisage when the genre is mentioned. I'd have at least an album apiece from Emperor, Immortal and Darkthrone to cover the bare essentials, and you probably would have to give Mayhem / Varg their dues in some way despite the rampant controversy and dickheadery. I'll be writing a letter to Mr. Robert Dimery when time allows.

I actually kind of enjoyed this, and wasn't expecting a more atmospheric, jazz-leaning pop country album from Willie Nelson. There's practically zero trace of the outlaw/bandit stylings which set my teeth on edge, in favour of some genuinely lovely, delicate soundscapes. I'm not sure I recognise any of the original versions of these covers, so I might have to seek them out to know if they've been dealt ample justice here, but my unlearned assumption would be that they have.

This started out great, with Tom Waits' sardonic humour shining through and serving as the key draw of the songs, where the instrumentation acted as more of a base to keep things subtly ticking along. Before too long, however, it really did start becoming samey and fatiguing, and it's 73 minutes in length so it's an experience I'm unlikely to want to repeat. There are far better and more engaging Tom Waits albums out there, as I've come to establish through my own exploration.

I've got a confession to make - the only QOTSA album I've ever heard (and own) is Songs For The Deaf. Why I've never explored them further is a source of great mystery to me - I'd always been meaning to, and this album proves that they had "it" from the start. In fact, I might actually prefer the more wandering, desert-ish feel of this album, without it sacrificing too much in the way of hooks and catchy guitar exploits. It's a much more immersive experience than I'd have had QOTSA down for, where their own identity can clearly be observed in the first instance through a characteristic style of playing and guitar tone. Undoubtedly purchase quality, and this has been the kick up the arse that I've needed to launch a solo discog effort.

Tedious, unaffecting rubbish. Imagine if Radiohead went a bit more theatrical, whilst simultaneously stripping away everything from their sound which makes them compelling and shifting their lyrical focus towards teeny boppy nonsense, and you'd have something which closely resembles this. Seriously, who is this for? People going through a mid life crisis?

My Mum very rarely ever objects to any music that I put on (she even tolerates endless gurgling and swathes of double kick without too much resistance, bless her soul), but today I've learned that this The Police record is a step too far to ever be played at home as she can't stand Gordon Sumner (Sting)'s vocals. Her intense disliking of The Police caught me off guard somewhat, as I didn't think this was too bad - at points pretty good, even, via the heavy hitters such as "Message In A Bottle" and "Bring On The Night" with those sumptuous bass lines and slight quirkiness to the playing. Lyrically, it's a bit silly and somewhat suspect by today's standards across significant patches (the "my fine young son has turned out gay" line in "On Any Other Day", in particular, raised an eyebrow) which probably stands in the way of this being a potential purchase for me. Some of the reggae-influenced tracks also felt a tad half-baked with ideas above their station to my ears, but they didn't derail the experience to too great an extent.

Musically, this was a competent enough, but unaffecting baroque pop album. Some nice piano exploits, but overall this was a bit too delicate and polished with little that really broke the mould or solemnity at any point, and it was fairly generic / predictable with regards its cycling between quiet and loud passages. Vocally it was absolutely awful - imagine the geezer from Sleep Token if he was somehow even more over-dramatised, self-important and joyless in his approach to vibrato wailing.

Perhaps I'm just not in the right mood this morning, but this album largely washed over me. I can't recall anything that made itself known within it - a playful riff, a memorable vocal inflection or a thoughtful piece of lyricism. It just did its thing and then it was done. Bland.

This was a struggle, mainly due to the vocals on a number of tracks, but also due to my limited interest in what manifested as a fairly generic album compositionally across appreciable portions. I nearly turned the album off after track two as the vocals were that bad, but fortunately they were more palatable from there on in. Frustratingly, there were some cool guitar exploits dispersed here and there, however these never felt capitalised on to any meaningful degree to truly elevate the songs. Even as a non-fan of The White Stripes or Jack White, surely there were better albums to choose from within their respective canons.

Definitions from Oxford Languages · Learn more joyless /ˈdʒɔɪlɪs/ adjective not giving or feeling any pleasure or satisfaction; grim or dismal. "she had to face the thought of a joyless future" "mate, that 1001 album I listened to this morning was such a joyless affair" Synonyms: unhappy, sad, depressing, miserable

I kind of enjoyed this, and appreciated taking in something different to the assortment of mid-to-crap rock albums that I've been dealt with over the last week or so. A South African acapella album, the harmonies here are lucent, impassioned and catchy, even if the language barrier gets in the way. The voices layer on top of one another in a compelling way, giving the songs a degree of depth which belies its lack of instrumentation. I'm not sure how quickly I'll return to this, but I will at some stage.

The 1001 list needs more albums like this. Albums which truly make you contemplate what the fuck you've just heard. This is somewhere between synth-punk, noise rock, krautrock and avant garde, and I love it all the more for it. It's equal parts fascinating, nauseating, claustrophobic and disorientating, owing to the throbbing, repetitious percussion, looped, distorted electronic garnishes, off-centre synth pieces, the cavernous effects on Alan Vega's disenfranchised, panicked vocals, and its stern refusal to occupy mainstream conventions. This is a perfect 10 in my world. It's clear to see how it influenced so much "weird music" that I enjoy.

I wish Damon Albarn would just shut the fuck up and let someone else on the mic, as this album was actually fairly interesting, psychedelic and artsy beyond the first handful of numbers, but it's mired by his vocal style which gives me the shivers. Invariably, it does descend into "trying to be too clever for its own good" territory, but I quite liked the track "Death of a Party", and everyone knows the woo hoo song for being on car adverts and the like.

A better time was had with this one compared to "Arthur", and the songs on here are actually quite catchy, both in terms of the melodies and the zany, quintessentially British lyricism accompanying them. This did start wearing a touch thin after its first third, but there wasn't anything too objectionable going on to speak of, and the final few tracks were a notable uptick away from a drawling style which had begun to set in. Even if it's not my usual bag, I did find enough to appreciate here for the chance I might revisit down the line.

I found this really dull, almost lift music-esque in the main. Way too peripheral with little to anchor the songs or to solicit your attention, aside from the odd funky/groovy guitar lick here and there. The songs with vocals were mildly more engaging, but in the same way as giving plain tofu a slight modicum of flavour by grinding a bit of salt over it.

A cast-iron classic. A much more "straightforward" offering than the proggy grandeur which can be observed on "In Rock", but the kaleidoscopic riffs on here are undeniable, and the vocal harmonies are ever-ingraining. The b-side of this album is about as strong as any you'll come across, anywhere in music.

The pretentious, Pitchfork reading millennial musos got this one right at least. This is awesome. A disorientating, yet playful experience designed for a trip on acid or shrooms, yet still fun and intriguing to delve into in a sober state. You've got all sorts of layers of swirling, warpy electronics and echoing vocals duking it out with one another because why not, but the songs remain anchored to catchy pop sensibilities, follow logical structures and exude a very human warmth, ensuring it isn't just an alien lab experiment gone wrong. The production on this one is immense as well, providing the ideal, vivid platform for these songs to wrap themselves snugly around the surface of your eardrums. It reminds me in many ways of Yo La Tengo's more experimental tendencies, LCD Soundsystem, The Flaming Lips and Brian Wilson crossed with IDM/space ambient. No surprise that Sonic Boom would later take an interest in these guys, sounding out Panda Bear for a collaboration. It's gone onto the purchase list. Sorry, not sorry.

I rather enjoyed, and was pleasantly surprised by this. It's an accessible take on moody, atmospheric alt-rock fused with elements of country and folk, where the latter two don't encroach too heavily into the experience; positively accentuating the songs which generally place a greater emphasis towards the vocals. The album began to feel more expansive in the second half, and specifically from "Stars n' Stripes" onwards, where the back end of such a track felt like it had a greater amount of room to breathe, and where the instrumentation took the reins with a slight sleaze and drifting style to it. The first half, whilst good, occupied a similar space from to track, although not in an unengaging way. Grant Lee Buffalo, in a vocal sense, has a slight grunge/alt twang to him which brought several other 90s contemporaries to mind - a bit of a softer voice than the likes of Layne Staley, but operating in a comparable ballpark with the emotive quality to his vocals. Michael Stipe or Neil Young might be closer points of reference. I can imagine this album pairing well with a beer over a summer sunset. I might actually make a purchase and explore further.

10/10. Proper transformative stuff. This was one of the first records my Dad ever bought (he sold all of his collection before I was born, sadly), spawning his love for electronic music which passed down to me. Even now, approaching 50 years after the fact, this album sounds incredibly fresh and like it's from another dimension entirely. Yet, it's packed to the brim with catchy, minimalistic, trance-inducing robotic motifs, licks and rhythms which have never left my conscious throughout the time I've been familiar with it. It's a go to album for me when I'm looking for something soothing and palate-cleansing. I think this should be in everyone's collection.

After a dour run of albums last week, to quote the kids - "we're so back". No notes needed. One of those albums where you just hit play, raise your fist in defiance and start bopping your head.

I'd only heard this for the first time towards the back end of last year, and had been meaning to circle back around to it at some stage to form a more developed opinion on it, so I appreciate the algorithm fast-tracking that process today. Anyway, this album sits in a strange position of "not quite something I'd be jumping to purchase, but enjoyable enough that I wouldn't mind happening upon it again". It ebbs and flows in terms of retaining my interest (it does meander a bit too much for my liking on occasion), but there are undoubtedly some compelling offerings on here when the pace and energy are amplified. Barrett Martin's array of instrumentation, which includes the conga, tabla, djembe, cello and harmonium, does add some interesting nuances to the album. Overall, however, I think I prefer Mark Lanegan's solo material and perhaps "Sweet Oblivion" as well, where the moodiness translates into a stronger sense of memorability. A strong 3/5.

On first listen, I can absolutely recognise how important a document this would have been for informing the ska-punk genre. The incisive, rebellious, matter of fact lyricism, which fully lends itself to punk attitudes, really does appeal to me. It's anger and a bubbling desire for systemic and social change delivered intelligently and insightfully, through a working class British lens. Precisely my preferred take on the genre. I'm not generally a fan of ska, particularly the American strain of it where it's far too in your face and overbearing, but I found it tastefully interwoven into this album, allowing the lyricism to take the primary precedence. It adds textural depth to the songs, making rebellion playful without veering into silliness. Good stuff, it's gone onto my wishlist.

Continuing the Prince album trend of opening with a banger, before rapidly becoming irksome, although I made it deeper through this than I envisaged I might have when the album popped up earlier this morning. 70 minutes of his bombast and wankiness is just way too much to bear repeating though.

What a tour-de-force of an album. I love absolutely everything about it. Bowie's expressive and impactful storytelling is probably at its apex here; not just through his razor-sharp, emotionally dextrous lyrics, but also through the sumptuous melodies he concocts, and the dazzling array of instrumentation which combines into such grand, genuinely moving soundscapes. I hadn't listened to Ziggy Stardust for a fair while before this morning, and it really did solicit something in me this go around. Five stars, absolutely no question.

This is an epic album, and one which utilises Phil Spector's "wall of sound" recording style to spellbinding effect. Its immersive orchestral flourishes, entwined with Scott's instantly recognisable, powerful baritone and his poetic, vivid lyricism, all combine to provide a rock solid platform for his early career arc. My introduction to Scott Walker was through his far more experimental, unhinged material such as "The Drift" and "Bish Bosch", which I do hold in the highest esteem within his catalogue, but this is a far easier album to digest as a "casual listen", if such a listening headspace can be deemed compatible with Scott Walker's work.

This was a decent, enjoyable enough listen. The obvious draw is Carole King's soulful, immaculate vocal performance throughout the album, however at varying points it did feel as though her voice was doing the heavy lifting to carry the songs through to the end. The arrangements here are very pleasant, and some of the more reflective balladeering songs manage to conjure up a spectacular mood, but overall the album is perhaps a bit too uncomplicated to truly ignite my interest. Love the cat on the cover, though.

I really am surprised by just how much I enjoyed this. An afrobeat album where the vocals/lyrics largely take a backseat, however they weren't particularly needed as the songs were able to lock into some mesmerising grooves, and the warm, jazzy instrumentation was able to paint vivid pictures for itself. When there are vocals throughout "Zombie", they feel purposeful and carry weight, particularly when you factor in the socio-political context informing the album. I was having a brief read on Wikipedia, which yielded some rather interesting yet tragic accompanying information, intensifying the cause for this to be an album to hear before you die due to the historical fallout that it caused.

I bought this whilst on my travels in Vienna last summer, knowing that it was a feature of the 1001 and an album which had been sitting on my wishlist for some time. They Were Wrong... has received an absolute mauling on the 1001 Generator site, manifesting as one of the lowest rated albums, but I'm here to bat for it today as I really like it and feel that the wider criticism has been undue, seemingly on the basis of it being a more challenging listen than the usual indie / classic rock stuff which is lapped up on a regular basis. This is a thoroughly intriguing blend of dance punk, noise rock and experimental music. Some of the thumping, scatty percussion on here is a joy to track, whilst the album gives off an unsettling, kind of mechanical vibe. It regularly segues from wafting, tribal krautrock-esque passages into deliberately obtuse, slightly off-kilter rock rhythms infused with feedback and wildly miscalculated tones, which set out with the intention of overwhelming your senses. It's always a step or two away from being truly danceable when the synths and percussion come to the forefront; gurning, shrieking and rattling away into a cacophony of the best kind of "WTF". Frontman Angus Andrew exercises a similar unhingedness, where his duties align less with "singing", and more so with panicked yelping, off-key bellowing, or barely more melodious than spoken word vocals to elevate the album's uneasiness.

Rather disappointed that I don't like this, after gauging the fairly positive reception for this album. The rumbling bass work, which sits prominently in the album's mix, was a nice flourish, and the songs themselves are easy enough to get on board with, but the deal-breaker was the vocals, which I absolutely cannot stand. The sort of whiny American nonsense which makes me want to flip a table.

A wildly inconsistent album, but the highs are very good indeed despite being overplayed to death, and form summer playlist staples. You could probably lose most of the back end of Hot Fuss, and "Smile Like You Mean It" and "All These Things I've Done" are just a bit shite innit? But the album does radiate a sense of nostalgia for less complicated, more carefree times. Despite being an American band, The Killers have always had a bit of a British "lad culture" whiff about them to engender appeal over on these shores. It's not ostensibly British, but compatible enough through its "cheekiness" and slightly mopey lyrical expressions. It was all downhill from here though, judging from the limited Killers material that I've been exposed to otherwise.

Yes.

This is my type of punk. Brimming with attitude, catchy but not over-exaggerated, intelligent but not overstated, and quintessentially British in its cynicism. Instrumentally, it's more than just four chords and the truth as well, with songs often stretching to breaking point as the album advances, in a manner that the likes of Subhumans would later inherit. I've got a couple of Buzzcocks releases in my collection, however this one eludes me. That won't remain the case for much longer.

I was dreading this based on the "singer-songwriter" moniker; on first exposure, my chief complaint probably would centre on how the album perhaps isn't quite interesting enough to warrant its near-hour running time, but it wasn't an unenjoyable listen at all, and it left me somewhat pleasantly surprised. Morissette employs a volatile vocal approach, where her little voice cracks, forceful croons and notable range add a fair measure of character to proceedings. She commands the requisite presence on an album such as this, where the instrumentation exists almost entirely as a backdrop for her performance, although the "backdrop" wasn't without its merits, despite very much confining Jagged Little Pill to its era with regards to stylistic features. All in all, a pretty decent listen. I found it preferable to many of the other albums I've rated three stars, though it probably sits just outside of my "purchase window".

I knew the opener/title track as it's been used in various meme clips over the years. That's about as good as things got. The rest kind of just festered in my ears without leaving much of an impression. Do people really still "get it on" to this shit in the year 2026?

The title track was OK (the only one I was already familiar with), though you kind of get the point before too long. He mentions driving his Chevy to the levee precisely 7 times. Much of the rest was a fucking dirge. Insomnia-curing piano/folk rock.

I rather enjoyed this as a gentle, breezy album to laze around to in my hostel bed after last night's fun. Quite similar to Booker T. & the MGs compositionally and in sound; where the Hammond organ exudes warmth, whilst the drumming here is a joy to wrap your head around, propelling these tracks into interesting directions. Back At The Chicken Shack felt a lot more engaging to me, however, owing to its utilisation of the saxophone in an almost "vocal-like" fashion, where every note tells a story.

Kill it with fire

This is one of those albums which is never going to fully reveal itself to you on a singular listen, requiring time and patience, however the one listen will have to suffice for now as I'm craving some metal in my ears. That said, this is absolutely bonkers and ceremoniously diverse, with plenty of overlap with other psychedelia artists which feature highly in my estimations, whilst feeling unique to itself in how it apportions progressive pop sensibilities, orchestral arrangements, rock opera-scale ambitions and contemporary means of production, whilst still heavily invoking the 60s in terms of its "no holds barred" approach and broadly optimistic tones. However, it even channels late-career experimental Scott Walker towards its back end on a track such as "Mrs O'Leary's Cow", completely flipping the vibe of the album on its head when you'd least expect it. I'm fairly certain I have heard Smile before as it's saved in my Spotify library from several years back, when I was working through a list of the "most challenging albums to listen to" list on AOTY/Sputnik/similar, but it was more or less a fresh listen this go around. It will be joining my physical shelves, incredible stuff.

I'm a long time fan of these guys, and of their unique blend of punk rock, industrial and noise rock. An abrasive, yet cheeky and playful listening experience, Steve Albini's larger than life persona really does come to the fore in his playing, with "Atomizer" breezing and buzzing along wonderfully for just short of 40 minutes. It has the ramshackle energy of what would become early post-hardcore, whilst the industrial elements contrast by magnetising the album back towards more defeatist sentiments. A to-and-fro that consistently provides the goods. The production captures a perfect balance between distortion and affording the instrumentation space to make itself intelligible, with the intentional lo-fi quality to it preserving the soundscapes conjured up here into today's landscape, where we are seeing more of a DIY resurgence in punk. Inexplicably, I haven't got this in my collection despite owning the similarly brilliant Songs About Fucking, but it's floating about on Discogs relatively cheaply, so I might have to indulge.

Just a tame, insignificant acoustic country album that has absolutely no business being on the list. Plus he's supposedly a cunt, and as someone who shares his first name, I'm giving this a one star accordingly as a show of solidarity for all of the other Ryans out there ensuring this process alongside me.

'Tis a bit long and pompous innit? There are some decent offerings on here, which are enjoyable when experienced in isolation, but a double album of bombast and self-serious, overblown theatrics is perhaps a bit too much to bear in one sitting.

The "R&B/hip hop soul girl group" description had me recoiling when this first popped up. I actually didn't hate it anywhere near as much as I expected to, but there's little here which appeals to me or that felt like it's endured the test of time to warrant sustained inclusion. This would have sounded slick for the time, I'm sure, but stylistically it's very dated and very safe.

This wasn't hideous; in actuality, it was quite listenable, although rather one-paced, one-note and a bit dreary. I was anticipating some yodelling bonky bonk racket, but this is more "atmospheric" country - the sonic equivalent of a gentle stroll at dusk, with some western instrumentation sprinkled in. The issue is that variety is very much at a premium here, so it quickly disappeared into the periphery.

Instrumentally, it's some great, colourful, energetic punk that should absolutely be my thing. It's a shame then that, vocally, these guys have never been my thing. The guy just can't really sing and drives me up the wall.

I bought this a little while ago on a mate's insistence, having never heard it for myself. I gave it a single spin and liked it, but I've not returned until today, which is a shame as this is a very good listen indeed. It provides a seductive, well-balanced fusion of noisy industrial power pop, alt rock and psychedelia, benefitting from some excellent production where layers of instrumentation combine and distort into one another fantastically well. It's also an emotionally dextrous effort, where the overarching mood is one of darkness, but the way in which it is revealed to the listener varies from outright vulnerability to a slight arrogance and edginess that is substantiated.

Lovely stuff. I'm not the most well-versed in jazz, but I know what I like from the genre when I hear it. Not sure when I'd actively reach for this as dedicated listening, but it fit the bill spectacularly well this morning as a soundtrack for getting ready for the day.

My thought process whilst listening to this fluctuated between "this actually isn't half bad, probably the best Blur album I've had so far" and "shut the fuck up Damon Albarn" approximately 30 times. It's way too long (not helped by the drawling "Oily Water" or disastrous "Miss America" tanking proceedings towards the second third of the album), and it tries to be psuedo-intellectual whilst ultimately coming off as a bit daft. Very Kinks-esque updated for the 90s, but I'm not the biggest Kinks fan, so go figure!

This sure was an album. It began and ended. There was music split across several tracks. There were vocals, drums, maybe even guitars. One of the albums ever made.

Fucking dreadful. There's a strong case for this being the worst album I've had so far. Horrible, horrible dreary shite with absolutely no redeeming features. Only managed five tracks.

Well what a whole lot of nothing this is. It's like an auditory boiled rice and tofu sandwich. Music you'd hear while you're waiting to have your root canal done. Fuck this shit, I'm putting the new Neurosis album on again

Fuck this shit, I'm putting the new Neurosis album on again

I'm kind of speechless after having heard this. It's the sonic equivalent of being chased by a stampede of hundreds of baby elephants - absolutely relentlessly chaotic, and I really did like it. Slightly gutted to find that it isn't on streaming, but it was worth ploughing through several adverts for.

This is nowhere near as strong of an album as "Behaviour" or "Introspective"; whilst it houses several of the group's set-list mainstays, such as "It's A Sin", "What Have I Done To Deserve This" and "Heart", I can't help but feel that several of the deeper cuts occupy that status for a reason, failing to leave as significant of an impression without being poor as such. Nonetheless, I'm more forgiving of Pet Shop Boys than others seem to be, and I will return to this for the hits. Objectively it's probably a strong 3 stars, but I'll give it the benefit of the doubt as I am a fan, and my overall average score has taken a serious beating of late, between being dealt some utter dross and feeling that a re-appraisal was necessary for other previous albums that I was a touch too lenient to.

Well this is pretty damn good, innit? I've never consciously heard a note of Hendrix's music, so taking in this album has truly been an awakening for me. I can't begin to imagine how mind-blowing an experience this would have facilitated when it first dropped in 1968. Sure, it's a bit of a sprawler, but at no point did "Electric Ladyland" become tiresome to me as your man Jimi just unleashes sick guitar exploits, one after the other, for over an hour. People speak of Hendrix as one of the all-time revolutionary purveyors of the instrument, and yeah, I can't really argue with that on this evidence. I'll be buying this.

This starts out far stronger than what I remember of the other Rolling Stones album I've had in "Sticky Fingers" (which, admittedly, isn't a lot) - the energy levels are amplified from the word go via the opener "Paint it Black", which is far more closely indebted to actual HOOKS and catchy guitar passages rather than just wafting about aimlessly. This optimism didn't last long, however, as by the fourth track or so, the album just dissipated into horrible, repetitive white noise for me. The dodgy misogynistic lyrics don't help either. One good track does not an album make (or whichever spin you want to put on the phrase).

Yet another one to file under "appreciate having heard it, and it's decent, but it's obviously not my era or vibe". It makes for a smooth 25 minutes without leaving a particularly noteworthy impression.

Listen without prejudice is exactly what I did. I still didn't like it. Wet, tedious, presumptuous bullshit in the main. I did get a laugh out of the fact that "Listen Without Prejudice Vol. 2" wasn't ever officially released because of contractual disputes with the record label.

Had a great time with this one. It's a lot more upbeat than I would have expected from a Paul Simon album, and there was an impressive array of instrumentation from the African contributors on here that varied from track to track, giving different phases of the album their own identity. Simon's gentle tenor has a slightly nasal quality to it, although not of the irritating or twee variety, and he's able to pen some strong melodies which I can foresee sticking with me on subsequent listens. Graceland also very much benefits from a crystal clear production job for the time, achieved without sanitising the source material. Onto the buy list this goes!

Decent funky instrumentation with occasional bouts of brass and piano adding some welcome flavour. Vocally, however, I can't contend with this. "Africano" was, by far, the standout as it's just an instrumental bop.

I'm of course familiar with some of ELO's breakout hits, and both of my parents were/are fans of the band, so I had high hopes going into this. They were more than surpassed. This is precisely my kind of grand, larger than life prog pop; it's epic without falling susceptible to cheesiness, it's not virtuosic / overly show-off like (which I'm not against by any means if it's substantiated), it's cheerful at every turn, the vocal/instrumental harmonies are sumptuous, the orchestral arrangements are colossal, and more or less every song here feels like a vital piece of the jigsaw. My only minuscule criticism is that there is a slight drop off towards the end of the first disc ("Believe Me Now" and "Steppin' Out" are somewhat limp compared to the banger run of tracks that precede them), but "Standin' In The Rain" onwards is a hell of a second wind. You could also argue that this very much sounds of its era, but there's nothing wrong with that in my eyes as it forms the core of Out of the Blue's character. An absolutely stunning album. The next one I'll be purchasing.

This takes a couple of tracks to properly get going, but once it does, it's enjoyable although not on the same level as Screamadelica or XTRMNTR for me. It definitely sounds "bigger budget" and, consequently, more immersive than Screamadelica. There is some interesting layering going on and a diverse pool of world instrumentation to be heard, but the songs are occasionally guilty of wafting around a touch too much with little to anchor them. Nonetheless, there's nothing on here that I found to be dislikeable as such. A light 4.

I'm sure I've heard the intro track on TV over the years, it might have been on something like MasterChef. As for the rest of the album, I'm convinced that Robert Dimery gave up after the first edition of the book and just started plumping for albums which had made some random, ostentatious indie YouTuber's year-end lists as how the fuck is this something you need to hear before you die? It's vapid, corporate, air-conditioned nothingness. About as exciting as receiving a tax bill in the post.

Choosing this for a 1001 Albums list, over the abundance of more exciting electronic albums released during the 90s, is like having the budget for Hawaii and the Maldives to be among your potential honeymoon destinations but instead opting for a bedsit in Peterborough. This well and truly puts the "down" in "downtempo". Justice can, and must be served in the new edition of the book scheduled for release later this year...

This might be one of the coolest albums ever made. It's as hard as nails. The auditory equivalent of being trampled on by an army of shredded, life-size goblins. To some, it may represent something of an endurance test, but its chaotic energy, generated by a mere two musicians, is precisely why it appeals to me. Brian Gibson’s bass functions as much more than the sum of its parts - put through a litany of pedals and custom effects, it genuinely sounds like an earthquake unfolding, whilst his style doesn't eschew catchiness. Refer to the central riff on “Dracula Mountain” as cast-iron proof. Brian Chippendale is a force of nature on the kit. His performance is a blur of hyper-kinetic fills and relentless velocity, without sacrificing any "groove". His garbled, frantic vocals add to the feeling that you’re listening to a transmission from a red-blooded riot. This is arguably not even the best Lightning Bolt album, but it's still a five in my view and the sort of weird shit that the list needs more of.

Some of the beats were decent, and a couple of vocal harmonies were pleasant on the ears, but as usual with these sorts of albums, the lyrics and rapping can get in the bin. It was a struggle of immense proportions to get through what I managed of it.

I reviewed this album a little while back with some nerds I met over the internet, who I often partake in artist deep dives with. Here's what I had to say then, which still applies on this listen: Contrary to what seems to be the general feeling towards Stillness, I quite dig the more chilled out, expansive, densely layered vibe of that album, which went into some interesting places through its blending of different styles. This one channels a decent amount of those successes into a tighter, more direct and aggressive approach, closer in scope to the debut structurally whilst still showcasing some of the musical development of previous. However, I'm struggling with the lyricism to a greater extent than before, and am really not a fan of Simz’ rapping style for large parts of this one. Thematically it's further outside of my wheelhouse than ever, and I'm not sure I recall as many “N-bombs” rearing their head on the last two. Vocally I still wouldn't necessarily agree with the idea that anything about her performance feels inauthentic, but it did feel as though she was trying to get too much in at points and she is clearly more keen to be the centre-piece here. The aggressive style is kinda lost on me, whereas I think the more subtle approach offered up occasionally, and more frequently on Stillness, proves that Simz can still be an incisive presence without going for the jugular. "Wounds” and the closing couple of tracks “Sherbet Sunset” and “Flowers” ft. Michael Kiwanuka would probably be my highlights. More of that soulful approach of the latter two in particular could've swayed this further into my palate.

90 minutes of nasal vocals, boring, drawling songs and frequent bouts of eardrum-piercing harmonica? Seriously, fuck off. Petition to ban the instrument starts now.

Not an unenjoyable Byrds album at all, which caught me by surprise as neither of the other two I've heard have made a positive impression on me. The improved production values, generally brighter songwriting and greater emphasis towards psychedelia, particularly as you approach the back end of the album, all contribute towards a more engaging listening experience for me. The arrangements here largely felt more free-form, textured, and, crucially, catchier, with a perceptible country twang to the instrumentation that, thankfully, doesn't seep through into the vocals. I was feeling a strong 3 star rating at first, but there is a chance, at the right price, that I'd buy this, so I'm going to round it up.

I do have to be in the mood to live with some of the hypersexual lyrics and the horny vocals (see "Pencil Skirt" in particular for a track I'm often inclined to skip). However, this is otherwise a full-throttle five stars for me, which might not have been the case a year or so ago until I had experienced something of a Britpop awakening. It's packed with sumptuous, glam-inspired sing-along refrains, catchy melodies, ecstatic soundscapes disguising disenfranchisement, and insightful social commentary. Impressively, although it does capture a moment in time and very much invites feelings of nostalgia for said time, I think it has aged very well as the distinct Britishness of it, and the universality of some of the lyrical themes, attitudes and sentiments relating to the class system in the UK transcend generations. It remains a very intimate listening experience, and relatable to the "working bloke who feels a touch out of place in society" mindset.

It's one of the lowest rated albums on the site, so of course it's a) something I have in my collection and b) something I really like! From the moment that "Sweat Loaf" (a play on the closely named Black Sabbath track, and not the only track which meddles with Sabbathian playing) kicks in, you know that you're in for a wild ride. It exercises some wonderfully manic, discordant playing, off-piste tones, desultory structures and absurd lyricism, however it knows precisely when to lock into more conventional sensibilities and grooves in what feels like a partially sarcastic, yet well-considered manner. It's very much an album that you'd struggle to put into a specific box, where a consistent sense of irony, humour and surrealism are its aces up its sleeve. Elements of noise rock, experimental rock, psych rock, post punk, sludge metal and sampled tape music are all plain to hear, and they coagulate into a habitually thrilling package.

I was dreading this based on the title, however it actually proved to be an eminently listenable country album. Aside from the fairly cookie cutter lyricism for the genre, which holds no resonance for me whatsoever, and the twangy vocal style, musically it was palatable and bright enough with nothing too objectionable going on to speak of. What is that foot doing on the cover though 🤢.

One of the most frustrating albums I can think of. Frequent moments of brilliance, nuggets of great songwriting and fantastic layering overshadowed by Liam Gallagher's often awful whining, which is of the variety that makes committing arson seem appealing. I'm still going to have to score this 4/5 for the core instrumentation and the melodies in and of themselves, despite them desperately crying out for a more capable vocalist.

Er, what is a compilation album doing on here? And a compilation album put together after a grand total of, checks notes... TWO Hives albums had been released. Either of Veni Vidi Vicious or Tyrannosaurus Hives would have made for reasonable enough inclusions. This is taking the piss and wasting a space in the book, as fun as a couple of the songs are.

The musical equivalent of a sleep paralysis demon. Horrific, warbly folk crossed with vocal jazz. Every song sounds more or less exactly the same, drags on for an eternity, meanders around in a never-ending loop that goes nowhere and possesses all the joy of a crusty abscess. Should have been titled "Depression: The Album".

"Mezzanine" is generally the Massive Attack album I'm most likely to gravitate towards (and represents one of several absolutely criminal omissions from the list). However, this is still a scarily good debut and more than deserving of its place. Widely regarded as the first "true" trip hop album, for me its qualities and the soundscapes it conjures up truly come alive at night. A trawl through suburban streets, a late drive or something to decompress to after a long day - this has you covered through its sensual, thumping, reverberating bass-heavy sound entwined with otherworldly, poignant soul and dub elements. It's an enthralling experience from front to back, which can function superbly either as central or background listening. Massive Attack have long been on my live bucket list - hopefully I'll get the opportunity some time.

Pointless writing much about this one as I don't really have any unique insights to give. It's all been said before. There's a reason why it's considered a classic - because it's bloody good!

Yet another album to add to the "whole lot of nothing brigade" which is gaining new members at an unenviable rate! One of those albums which, you can tell, thinks it's smarter than its peers, but ultimately lacks any kind of sauce. Painfully middle of the road at best, a bit crap at its worst, I gave up halfway through as that provided more than enough of a sample size.

Despite the absolute fiasco that is trying to deduce which version of this album is the correct version, the fact that I listened to the wrong version, that this shouldn't even be eligible for the list because it's a compilation album, the fact that it's an LTJ Bukem album only by name as he owns the record label featuring the actual artists who contribute to nine of the ten tracks on the wrong version, and sixteen of the twenty tracks on the correct version, and chose to release the compilation under his own moniker, and that I was almost duped into listening to the wrong version of the album thrice over because of the two continuous mixes at the end on Spotify, what did I actually think of the wrong version of Logical Progression? ... it's a pretty solid drum & bass / jungle album, and something I genuinely would revisit. As a neurodivergent, I often default to this sort of music when I'm experiencing sensory overload or burnout as it does good things to my brain. This did good things to my brain. It also measures up quite well production-wise in comparison to several other similar albums I've had so far, and there was plenty enough variety from track to track for it to remain interesting; often an issue with these sorts of albums, especially when they typically err on the lengthy side. I'm going to assume that the correct version of the album provides a similar experience to what I listened to this morning, so I'm rating it four stars.

No thank you!

Woop, 300 albums down! And I've got a good one to mark the occasion. This is precisely my brand of punk - minimalist, yet playful instrumentation, slightly erratic, bass-centric, sneery without veering into theatrical levels of anger, and, of course, it has that relatable working class British DIY attitude to it. The production is crystal clear for the time without dulling any of the album's charm, and each crevice of Crossing The Red Sea is packed with catchy refrains and a dependable vigour. This very much sounds like punk for the "thinking person", without wanting to come across as too pretentious, and the lyrics occupy more of an observational, self-deprecating and claustrophobic canvas. "Gary Gilmore's Eyes" in particular is a real highlight in how it taps into unconventional writing territory - it's not every day that you listen to a song exploring the perspective of a patient receiving a double eye transplant from an executed murderer. This is pretty much all killer for me.

Yeah, this was pretty good. Morose as all hell to begin with, but it does pick up significantly towards its mid-section, so it's not uniform in terms of mood in the way I thought it might have been. The chemistry between Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel is abundantly clear throughout, and the way that their vocals entwine with one another really does lend the album a hypnotic quality and a level of sophistication that I wasn't expecting. I would need to be in a specific headspace to reach for it again, but not an unenjoyable way of spending 28 minutes as I got ready this morning.

No notes. 5/5.

As we all know, Eric Clapton is a bit of a knob, but regardless this is undoubtedly purchase quality for me. Fantastic bass-prominent, distorted psych rock meets blues, whilst packing a real bite; coming in at merely 33 minutes, this album contains a multitude of Cream's finest successes, not least the one-two hip-wiggling blast of "Strange Brew" and "Sunshine Of Your Love", before taking a more expansive approach on numbers such as "Dance The Night Away", "Blue Condition" and "We're Going Wrong". Ginger Baker, Jack Bruce and Clapton exert a stunning degree of mutual understanding with one another, where multiple focused listens will reveal fascinating complexities to the arrangements here. It's a great showpiece, in particular, for Baker's effortlessly versatile drumming.

No. Just no. Boring, samey songs and a voice like nails down a blackboard.

An album (and band) that played a crucial role in getting me "properly" into music and laying the foundations for my current tastes. I first heard this when I was 9, in 2008, through my Dad having and playing the CD, and whilst he would often play his music at home (mostly electronic, prog, new wave and 90s rock), Black Holes and Revelations is one of the first albums I heard that truly made sense to me and demanded my attention. This was more or less the first time that any music of his resembling prog "clicked" with me; courtesy of its bombastic soundscapes, ambitious structures and modernised, yet stylistically 70s-esque modular synth workouts, whilst prioritising huge refrains and ensuring catchy, accessible songwriting for my unprimed ears. It eventually completely contextualised the likes of Genesis, King Crimson, Gentle Giant, Yes et al. for me, leading me down a rabbit hole of "weird" prog whilst also spurring me onto anthemic stadium rock. Before long, I was a Muse megafan with several of their other albums illegally torrented onto my new MP3 player I asked for that Christmas, but this one has easily had the most airtime from me over the years.

Masterpiece.

Not an unenjoyable listen at all, but an uneven one. It captures a raw, proto-garage rock type energy whilst combining it with the in-situ experimentation which was common for psychedelic albums of the time. The oscillating guitar swell of the opener "I Had Too Much To Dream" provides an instant highlight, and the production on here is genuinely excellent, channeling a fairly "dark" vibe through its heavy reverb, tremolo and distorted, fuzzy guitar sound. The vocals also often have a vitriolic quality to them, especially on "Get Me To The World On Time" which is another banger. The momentum doesn't remain a constant throughout the album, however - the back end becomes a bit forgettable as the album drifts further into baroque territory, and it doesn't always feel entirely stylistically aligned from track to track.

Essentially a Broadway musical put to a hard rock template, and that's where the problems begin for me. It's maximalist, and "sounds" the part, but what initially feels ambitious and fantasy villain-esque on the surface ultimately comes off as a little too melodramatic, kitschy and indulgent for its own good. The title track in particular doesn't really use its length to evolve musically, rather repeating the same "peaks" which could have easily amounted to around 4 minutes. By the time you've reached the album's mid-section, you've been inundated with screeching guitars and crashing piano to the point of fatigue and parody.

Very much enjoyed this, having only previously been familiar with Alex Turner's most recognised work as the frontman of Arctic Monkeys, and having never touched base with Miles Kane. This doesn't entirely lose the urban, gritty aesthetic that marked Arctic Monkeys's earlier material, instead channelling aspects of it into something of a galloping spaghetti western meets grandiose 60s baroque pop sound, in the vein of early Scott Walker and Ennio Morricone. Whilst it does lean heavily into its influences, the orchestral arrangements here elevate the songs into sweeping, dramatic soundtracks, whilst retaining a degree of wit and British cynicism that prevents them from becoming too over earnest. The tight running time of 35 minutes is a huge positive as well, with the album concluding just as you feel that the well could have begun to run dry. Definitely one I'd purchase.

The first couple of tracks on here were decent, and I was able to appreciate the more expansive, fuzzed out production which made itself well-known on occasion. The album often feels like it's pulling in different directions, contributing to the disorientating psychedelic-meets-soul sound. However, a significant portion of the rest either grated or blurred into royalty-free YouTube background music, and I mean that disrespectfully. Ultimately it's not really my bag.

A cool juxtaposition to the live music I'm about to hear all day at Incineration Fest. When the Bristol trip hop scene comes up in conversation, most people are likely to default to Tricky's alumni in Massive Attack, or Portishead as the most important purveyors of the sound, but I think this possesses equal merit and significance. It's a densely populated, kind of claustrophobic masterclass which transcends time in providing an individualistic experience within the movement. This differs to the likes of "Dummy" or "Blue Lines" as the production exudes a murkier feel, amplifying aspects of the urban sprawl that can be observed in early trip hop into something more sinister and shadowy, whilst uniquely apportioning the dub and soul elements explored by their peers. The vocal interplay is fantastic, with Martina Topley-Bird's ethereal, dreamy style contrasting with Tricky's raspy, anxious, frequently bordering on a whisper voice. It lends the album an arcane, kind of androgynous feel that works a real treat.

Perfectly fine while it was on, not a poor album by any means but it gave off a very delible impression across most of its duration, aside from a couple of numbers such as the opener "Love the One You're With" and "Old Times Good Times".

An iconic album, no doubt, but one that can err a touch on the structurally repetitive side, and it occasionally trudges along at a bit too much of a laborious pace for me. The production is excellent - achieving a kind of high definition swampy sound that lends the album a gritty, back-alley feel. Musically, it's at its strongest when the simple, yet effective boogie stylings and riffage rule the roost, most pronounced on tracks such as "Get It On", which remains a banger, and the closer "Rip Off". "Cosmic Dancer" offers an early break of vulnerability, making less in the lyrical department count. However, the album does feel a bit stagnant and sleepy as it reaches its mid-section and conclusion, with other upticks in energy largely indebted to a similar formula. Great for a certain mood and there's undoubtedly a good handful of tracks here which would do a fine job of soundtracking a vintage party. I'll revisit for those.

I can't remember exactly how I first became aware of The Avalanches, but what I do remember is that I'd never heard anything quite like them at the time, and that I found their mishmashing of assorted vinyl samples invariably fascinating. It's an album that very much rewards dedicated headphone listening, and it's a gift that continues giving each time I revisit it. Since I Left You takes on a narrative form across its running time, where each of the songs feel like immovable and irreplaceable pieces of the arc, whilst transitioning between one another subtly to give the illusion that they're still contained within the same scenery. It's not all atmosphere-driven, however, as there is no shortage of ingraining motifs to be found here, not least the wacky storytelling of "Frontier Psychiatrist" and the pulsating vigour of "Electricity". By all accounts, this album should feel like a cold, academic experiment, but somehow it constitutes an incredibly fluid listening experience vested with emotion. There is a warmth to the arrangements here that completely belies any haphazardness you might expect from the collation of disparate samples, though it is a warmth that is caveated by a cloak of melancholic longing and spiritual emptiness enveloping the songs. It's kind of like a wave of depression hitting you mid-summer, and I'm not positively sure that any other album out there encroaches into such a mood in quite the same way and with the same degree of skill. In short - I bloody love this album!

Not sure I fully understand the shade that's been thrown these guys' way. It's a perfectly polite and listenable electronica album - maybe a touch unremarkable and the sort of music you'd hear on the old Sky TV Guide menu screen, but hardly a poor offering. The vocals are genuinely lovely, anchoring the instrumentation well. It's not a particularly upbeat electronica album which I guess does relegate it to a fairly narrow niche in terms of when I'd put it on again, and it is very attributable to its time production wise through the programmed drums and synth textures, but I don't much mind that. Apparently this isn't the only album they have in the 1001 list, which seems a tad excessive.

This has received a bit of a kicking on the generator site; in typical fashion, it's somewhat avant-garde and something that I rather like. Jazz-inflected acoustic psych-folk with a real intricacy and technical prowess to the arrangements, whilst managing remain evocative. Plus, any album that incorporates a sitar is bound to perform well for me. Several tracks, not least "Light Flight" are a fascinating exercise in alternating between odd-metered time signatures, whilst the vocals throughout the album have a ghastly, outsider-like charm to them; instilling feelings of anxiety as they soar over the earthy instrumentation. The heartbeat of the warm, woody bass guitar really does provide for a wonderful contrast. I thoroughly enjoyed all of this and would absolutely buy it. I'm really not saying that to be contrarian.

I managed three songs. Three too many.

Whatever the bloody hell this is, I'm still not entirely sure, but what I am sure of is that I love it! A hilarious, brilliant, ironic, witty, disorientating and utterly fearless listen from the moment you hit play, it's sensory overload by just about every conceivable metric, but hell, give me something like this any day of the week over the 200th variation on the same country/folk album that supposedly warrants listening to before I drop dead. It plays out as a huge middle finger towards the perceived performative rebellion and cynicism of successful acts of the time, and a brutal dismantling of the ethos of the 1960s counterculture. Despite the ongoing "noise"; frequent disruptions of telephone conversations, whispering and random orchestral snippets underline the whole thing - the musicianship remains watertight throughout. The album is an elaborate piss-take, but a seamlessly executed one. The odd time signatures and complex arrangements provide ample evidence of the band outclassing most of the industry, whilst actively mocking it - winning the game of music composition, surely?

Can I really afford to be buying more vinyl at the moment? No. Have I just ordered this anyway? You bet I have...

Started off OK with a pleasant rock and roll swing to it, but the vocals and strange production choices quickly began to grate. My Mum's a fan of a couple of Sam Cooke's hits, so there were a few tracks which rang a bell for me, although if I ever wanted to hear them again I'd seek out the studio versions.

A band that I have dabbled with in the past, and one that I was too quick to write off as the sort of noisy, pretentious "too cool to care" rock that wasn't much for me. I don't know precisely what's changed in the intervening period of a couple of years (I have gained a much greater fondness of slacker rock/slowcore, the former of which this very much leans into), but this landed really well for me today - so much so that I'd very much consider making a purchase. It's an entirely unstable affair in that you never know whether it's going to swell into gargantuan, anthemic alt-rock territory, or collapse in on itself under the weight of its own distortion and fuzz pedals. It's a clever and tonally detached experience, whilst there is also a frantic foundation bubbling underneath to simultaneously reel the songs back towards the emotional fore. J Mascis is very much an anti-hero figurehead of the band, where his laconic vocal approach couldn't be any more at odds, at times, with some of the volcanic riffage he conjures up. It makes for an enjoyable contrast.

Never have I wished more that an album from this challenge was purely instrumental. Some of the dirty, nihilistic dance beats are genuinely excellent, and it's an incredibly sonically dense affair which should, in theory, appeal massively to me. But I just cannot abide by the vocals.

A much noisier, and probably much more immediately challenging listen than the debut, but I love it all the more for it! It sounds like a riot unfolding in a cellar with the doors bolted shut, and the speaker volume knobs turned up to the max and snapped off. Largely gone are the "pop" aesthetics of the debut, instead being replaced by an avant-garde, proto-punk assault, owing to its heavy utilisation of distortion as layers of atonal cacophony and a show of rejection. The title track nestles with a nauseating, pounding rhythmic sprint, whilst the bookend "Sister Ray" is the album's centerpiece, and a masterclass in controlled chaos, as a 17 minute improvised jam. The organ and guitars are constantly duking it out with one another to be the dominant force whilst a hypnotic drum beat underlines all of it. Easy to see how it would have inspired forms of noise rock and even industrial music.

I really enjoyed the other Stevie Wonder album I've had so far in Innervisions, but for whatever reason I found this one much harder to stomach. Whether that's because I'm just not in the right mood for it at the moment, or whether the songs are just drawling and overdramatic in comparison, I'm not really in any rush to decipher where the truth lies.

I wasn't depressed enough to truly appreciate this today, but in the right circumstances I think it could flourish for me. It's quite uniform and unvaried in terms of pacing, though I get that's entirely the point, and none of what I heard was unenjoyable.

Painfully middle of the road. Little wrong with it, but little of any excitement occurring here.

Quite simply a phenomenal record, and one that I first explored on the recommendation of a fellow pub-goer. I hadn't ever heard anything quite like it at the time, and even now it kind of feels like it occupies its own space entirely. It's a hypnotic medley of Afro-Cuban rhythms, blistering blues rock and jazz fusion fluidity, all of which are integrated seamlessly and spectacularly. The soundscapes conjured up on here are explorative, but always simultaneously feel grounded in an earthy sense of urban grit. The interplay between Michael Shrieve’s jazz-nuanced drumming, Jose Areas' timbales and Michael Carabello’s congas creates a dense, polyrhythmic heartbeat that really does propel the entire thing, whilst you then, of course, have Carlos Santana's instantly recognisable, endearingly warm tone and style of playing. Full marks from me!

Pleased to say that I very much enjoyed this, overcoming some slight trepidation over whether the vocals and airy production would prove to be too much for me throughout an entire album. They both took a moment or two to get used to, but actually ended up complementing the music fantastically well. Speaking of the music, much of it is absolutely monstrous; fusing heavy metal vigour, funk grooves, artsy psychedelia and tribal rhythms. The enterprising bass lines form a crucial component of Nothing's Shocking's makeup, whilst Dave Navarro's leads bridge the gap between classic arena rock and the dark, textured, effects-heavy atmospheres of post-punk. The drumming also very much takes my fancy, in terms of its jazz-like fluidity translating superbly into a swinging heavy rock performance. "Summertime Rolls" is a minor, somewhat dirging blot on the experience, but it is fortunately immediately followed by an uptick back towards earlier successes. Everything else on here is more or less all killer, so full marks and onto the purchase list this goes!

I get how this was seen as the blueprint for future developments in garage rock, but this is just not my bag at all. Sounds like absolute arse and all of the songs are variations on the same theme.

Absolutely banging album - a career defining moment and probably Maiden's most iconic material. No shortage of highlights on this one - not least the title track, "Run to the Hills" and "Hallowed Be Thy Name". Deserves no less than five stars!

This was all a bit too pristine and unaffecting for me. Very little I can recall about it following the one (and only) listen I'll be giving it.

Thought this was pretty decent - it sounds very **Elton John**, **Carpenters**, **Pink Floyd** and mid-to-latter day **Anathema**-esque in its piano-driven melancholy across large spells, and I've few complaints with that. Analogue synthesisers, swelling string arrangements and delicate flute playing gives the album a 70s feel, although updated with a modern production sheen. It's a constant, compelling fusion of pitch-black cynicism and raw trauma delivered in a witty, deadpan fashion under a warm, opulent veil, and although it does suffer from some slight pacing issues, fortunately it does have a knack of eventually switching things up when listening fatigue begins to set in.

The Flaming Lips are a band I've waxed lyrical about for a number of years, with this album finally earning the band the major breakthrough in which they had been hinting at pulling off, and had richly deserved on the strength of their prior discography. One may expect this album to be a sonically uplifting affair owing to the exuberant, colourful artwork and almost cartoonish title, however there couldn't be any greater discrepancy between what you see versus what you get. Drenched in the neo-psychedelic soundscapes which were progressively being harnessed to growing effect throughout the band's earlier catalogue, this album owes itself to melancholic sentiments whilst posing existentialist theories on mortality and the tangible impact that we, as individuals, have on the wider world, loosely serving as a concept album of sorts centring on the album’s primary protagonist Yoshimi (inspired by Yoshimi P-We of Boredoms, who also performs on the album). Showcasing an impressive breadth of diversity between sombre, less assuming passages, into cathartic releases of anguish, this album resonates just as strongly with me now as when I first heard.

Nope.

Old Sky TV Guide menu music again, but whilst Everything But The Girl at least had some lovely vocals providing an extra layer of depth, this fully drifted into peripheral listening and never really threatened to truly grab my attention. Not bad by any means, but wholly unremarkable.

Sanitised, soulless shite! The exact same "deep" ballad repeated ad-nauseam for however long I managed, all specifically engineered for soundtracking teenage girls' TikTok reels. A sad, sad waste of a space in the book and of my time.

I tried. Really, I did. But by track four I just couldn't continue. Not for me in a million years.

"Seven Nation Army" is, of course, a banger. The rest of this was largely meandering and uninteresting.

Started out promisingly enough with some jagged, chaotic energy to the playing for the first couple of tracks, however I quickly lost interest in what followed and it's far too long.

Some interesting ideas, plenty of sprawling psychedelic, artsy experimentation and enough variety to be found on here. However, at nearly 80 minutes, this is a very self-indulgent affair that I'd struggle to see myself returning to by choice, and not all of the experimentation is a resounding success.

Not quite my go-to Radiohead album (that's either OK Computer or Kid A for me), but still a phenomenal listening experience!

A classic as far as I'm concerned. A hugely important album with regards getting me into punk/punk adjacent music, owing to its ramshackle, chaotic instrumentation and sneering, John Lydon-esque energy; where the quintessentially British self-deprecating wit underlining the whole thing really did (and does) appeal to me. You were one of the cool kids if you liked these lads in high school.

A strange one, this, as it incorporates many ideas and styles which should, in theory, appeal to me. Definite Radiohead vibes in both the instrumentation and vocals, and there were aspects throughout that you could draw a through line to post rock or math rock with. The execution to me just felt off and a bit laboured, however. Almost like every song had to build and drone towards some grand conclusion whilst "really hitting you in the feels, man" along the way. And by that, I mean that I felt nothing but mild irritation.

A fine display of the sheer, audacious brilliance of Leonard Cohen. Trading his guitar for a Casio keyboard, cheap synths and drum machines into his 50s was a drastic pivot that could have screamed "mid-life crisis" territory, had it not been executed to as stunning a degree as it was on here. It shouldn't have worked, but it somehow does. I'm Your Man is the sound of a man completely reinventing himself to mirror the absurdity of the 80s in a clever, self-aware manner, and that wry self-awareness is reflected in the album's artwork. The friction between Cohen's sophisticated, world-weary lyricism, the unabashedly corny yet cold production, and glossy female backing vocals from his long-time collaborator Jennifer Warnes paves the way for a truly enduring experience.

I mean, other than the rampant misogyny, excessive depictions of violence, pervasive homophobia, its trivialisation of real world tragedies, dated pop-culture bashing, jarring use of skits, inconsistent quality of guest features, repetitive lyrical musings, its hypocritical "satire" defence of the lyrics supposedly being written by a cartoon character despite the album bearing his own moniker, its shirking of any accountability, sonically repetitive production, glorification of heavy drug use, depictions of incest and causing outrage for outrage's sake, this was a fantastic listen!

Not something I'm likely to return to, but I appreciate having heard it. The list is lacking Asian representation so this is a welcome addition, and it was enjoyable enough while it was on.

A reasonable enough listen, but not one I can see myself returning to. Not sure we needed as many Byrds or Byrds-related albums as the 1001 suggests you HAVE to listen to.

Thought this was a bit better than the other The Band album on the list, but not to enough of an extent that I'd revisit. One of the top reviews describes this as music for old people to day-drink to in a park, which is a fair assessment to my ears.

Good, consistently solid rock that breezes by. Fun times all round.

The non-air conditioned production on this one made a massive difference to my listening experience. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs sound like an actual band on here rather than some LinkedIn ted talk, the instrumentation packs a punch and the songs feel much more purposeful and emotionally dextrous, often veering slightly off course from the standard verse-chorus-verse formula to inject some noisy tension. Yeah, I'd return to this.

Dave Mustaine really can't sing can he? But who cares, this absolutely slaps. Peace Sells is exactly what I want in my thrash metal – the raw, snarling aggression, breakneck tempos and anti-establishment sneer of hardcore punk entwined with relentlessly complex musicianship, where Mustaine and Chris Poland trade intense, intricate riffs. You really can decipher Poland's background in jazz fusion through the way his solos bend around Mustaine's shredding, which really does elevate this all the more for me. The rhythm section is phenomenal as well, completely disregarding the typical thump of traditional metal drumming with frantic, shifting time signatures and creative cymbal work, whilst some truly filthy bass lines anchor the carnage. This deserves more regular playtime on my deck, for sure.

David Bowie doing David Bowie things, i.e. whatever he wants. Spoiler alert: this is another absolute cracker in his catalogue!

NEU! and CAN, as cliché as it sounds, were the two bands entirely responsible for getting me into Krautrock and psychedelic German music, and this album is right amongst the top of the pile for me within their respective canons. In my eyes, it marks a definitive line in the sand between the experimentation which was bountiful in the early 70s, and the much sharper and more aggressive tones which punctuated the latter half of the decade going into the 1980s. You can hear the friction bubbling within the band on NEU! 75, where Michael Rother and Klaus Dinger pull into entirely different directions from one another, evidenced by the album being split right down the middle rather than seeking any form of compromise. Amazingly, however, it somehow works in tandem, and the sonic territories explored here simultaneously set a blueprint for both post-punk and synth-pop. The first side is an absolute masterclass in atmospheric, keyboard driven minimalism, diverging from the aggressive propulsion and repetition of the band's earlier work; exactly the sort of music you'd want to soundtrack a night drive or stroll. Meanwhile, the second side is much more combative, sneery and raw, almost like a release of pent-up frustration from Klaus Dinger, who transitions to lead guitar and vocal duties following the restraint of the first. The dual-drumming of his brother Thomas and Hans Lampe on the final two tracks, "E-Musik" and "After Eight", in particular is truly something to behold. Basically I fucking love this band. The debut should have been on the list as well.

This felt like it was trying so desperately to be off-centre and quirky, but in actuality it was all just mildly boring and non-committal. Unremarkable slacker-ish indie disguised under a veil of meaningless sound effects.

This was all a bit "whatever", much like how I have always tended to view U2 generally. Nothing much wrong with the songs here, which in the main are perfectly functional and have a propulsive, driving energy to them, but I couldn't really recall a hook, riff or other feature that got under my skin at any point. "Drowning Man" was a notable low point with those horrible wailing vocals. I struggle to understand the fervour for this band.

I wasn't entirely sure on what to expect from this heading in, but to say I'm blown away would be an understatement. Never knew that I needed some cinematic, sweeping psychedelic soul in my life, but here we are! Stylistically this sounds like it's been unearthed from the 70s, but it has a modern urgency and clarity to anchor it into the present. There's ample depth on offer here, thanks to a vocal performance carrying a ton of conviction and some stunning "wall of sound" production, where layers of distortion and orchestral grandeur demand your focus. The pacing is excellent as well, with the album giving off a continuous feel whilst remaining consistently interesting through its frequent shifts in tempo and mood. The rhythm foundation here is fantastic; warm, cozy bass lines and some heavy, breakbeat style drums and congas that inspire a compelling push and pull. The fuzzed out guitar tones slicing through the album's mix remind me of Jimi Hendrix's signature style in many ways as well, vicious and weighty but never too overpowering. I fully intend to make a purchase and dedicate more time to this. Genuinely a revelatory discovery in and amongst the dross you have to wade through on the regular!

More bang average, self-important indie that I'll never spend another second of my life thinking about again.

The Germans are bloody good at making music, aren't they? CAN and NEU! in the same week is a very welcome trajectory. My recent listening has fully pivoted towards psychedelic, experimental and electronic stuff, so both albums popping up has been all the more timely. This, for me, is another album where I'm lamenting being unable to award 6/5 stars. Future Days, even 53 years after the fact, sounds extraterrestrial and entirely unique, thanks in large part to its masterful production where the reverb makes the instruments sound as though they're being played underwater or in a rainforest. It bridges the gap between CAN's renowned rhythmic pulse and the pioneering ambient work that would follow in its wake, marking an evolution in the band's sound where Ege Bamyasi was known for its sharp bass work and metronomic drumming, whilst Future Days places more of an emphasis towards Irmin Schmidt's keyboards and Michael Karoli's guitar. The motorik grooves are still there, but they are at their most refined and least jagged. Damo Suzuki's lyrics are muttered and hummed, designed to float through the mix and act more as depth and as another ambient instrument. I absolutely adore every track on here, but my favourite would probably be the 20 minute closer "Bel Air". It's a sprawling number taking up the entirety of Side 2 on vinyl, constantly building and dissolving throughout its running time from driving Krautrock to pastoral, orchestral ambient swells which hint towards later developments in post rock. It's a visionary statement of a track. CAN are incapable of doing any wrong in my eyes. This might just be my favourite album of theirs, although it's a close call.

I've always been in the "I appreciate what The Smiths do, but I don't love them" camp, and this album felt somewhat weak compared to others of theirs I've heard. Great lyricism from Morrissey as per, but I rarely latch onto music purely for the lyricism. Sonically, whilst decent enough, this failed to grab me really, and at times the vocals actually felt like more of a hindrance and mild source of irritation.

This gets properly fucked up at points, and it's those bouts of off-kilter experimentation which caught my intrigue and have me keen to revisit. Although a glam rock album at its core, it also brings an inventive fusion of avant-electronics, art school camp and 50s rock and roll, in a manner which surely was unique to it at the time. Brian Eno's blueprint is all over this, thanks to the bizarre, abrasive textures and unpredictable noises he concocts with his synthesisers, whilst Bryan Ferry's quivering vocals add a further layer of unease to proceedings. The album does occasionally feel somewhat disjointed, which is perhaps to be expected from a debut album, but I can absolutely buy into the argument that this is an essential listen.

This strain of jazz is always something I'm more likely to respect than actively enjoy. It was chaotic enough to hold my attention for a listen, but I was very much struggling with it towards the end.

I think the album cover sets the scene fantastically well for what you can expect from this – it sounds exactly like the sort of thing you'd chuck on to take a moment of reflection during a summer's evening along the coast after a long day at work. The tight, punchy mix serves to benefit the album, allowing its dense instrumentation of layered synths, driving strings, crisp snare hits, intricate bass lines and interlocking guitars to breathe and pop out at you. It's a loud sounding record, but one that is dynamic in its range and execution, where there is plentiful variety in how its tracks build towards towering conclusions beyond sheer volume and distortion. Although, slightly to its detriment, there are moments when the album tries to channel a more vigorous and visceral energy, which feel like a slight mismatch for the "kind" sonic template on offer. Lyrically, the album very much does what it says on the tin – detailing Win Butler's youthful urges to break free from his suburban surroundings, and his later realisations and regret of not embracing them and living in the moment. Although not quite comparable to my own experiences, it does feel somewhat relatable to my past grumbles over having lived in the relative arse end of nowhere for most of my life, but eventually coming to appreciate and even love my surroundings. The album's length is what holds me back from awarding full marks, where a bit of self-containment, particularly within its mid-section, could have served to strengthen its impact and make it more readily replayable. Nonetheless, by and large it is a triumph.

KI've been meaning to explore The Cult to a greater extent for a while, so the algorithm has thrown me a timely excuse to do just that. I think this is bloody awesome. It kicks major arse and never relents in quality or hip-shaking propulsiveness at any stage. Going on the buy list!

An album that I've tried before but which ultimately wasn't for me at all. I lost interest quickly this time around as well, it felt like it was trying to be too clever at points but in a thoroughly dull way. Couldn't connect with it at all.

I can take or leave Motorhead – whilst I recognise their status as a classic band in the speed metal/heavy metal pantheon, I feel they are a singles band at best and I don't really like Lemmy's vocals. Revisiting this album has done little to alter my opinion, as I feel the second half is a marked drop-off in quality from the highlights of the first. The vocals quickly began to grate and tracks began feeling like lesser imitations of a similar formula.

This worked far better for me on this occasion than on past attempts. The vocals, although still not my absolute favourite, didn't grate anywhere near as much this time round, and musically this is excellent – a stark contrast from the cold, mechanised dread of The Idiot, instead delivering some supercharged rock and roll for the most part. Whilst David Bowie's watermark is palpable here, the swagger of Lust for Life is largely attributable to Iggy's energetic presence, a kinetic rhythm section that borders on Motown-esque at points, and some loose, jagged guitar playing which works fantastically well. The only minor blot for me on this listen was "Turn Blue", which did err slightly on the self indulgent side.

Napalm Death absolutely deserve to be on the list in some capacity, and this is undoubtedly a highly important album in forming the bedrock for Grindcore and other extreme metal genres, but I can't help but think they went on to release far better material than this once they honed their melodic craft and incorporated more of a death metal influence into their sound. Side 1 of Scum is an absolute cracker, upping the extremity of anarcho-punk to new heights with tracks such as "Instinct of Survival" and "Siege of Power", but the production, inexperience in songwriting and lack of dynamic range on the second side lets the package down somewhat. You can very much tell that it was recorded in two separate sessions with two entirely different remits. Personally, I'd swap this out for any of Harmony Corruption, Utopia Banished, Enemy of the Music Business or even their most recent album Throes of Joy in the Jaws of Defeatism, but it's still an album I'd revisit and that I enjoy.

Not too bad musically, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that this album might house one of the most annoying vocal performances I've ever heard. Couldn't get through more than a couple of songs of his nasal whining. I've only got two more Costello albums left and I don't plan on wasting any of my time with either of them.

I can't really fault the quality of songwriting on here, which is consistently vibrant and impassioned, but reggae is considerably out of my wheelhouse and seldom a genre of music I'd ever actively listen to.

Solid enough, if a bit commercialised grunge in places, which feels at odds with the DIY aesthetic that it originally curated. Don't hate it but it's never going to set my world alight.

Another one to file under "big band jazz albums that I can appreciate but can't see myself ever loving". That said, this was a nice, pleasant listen, I'd have no qualms if it were to soundtrack certain activities as background music 😉.

This is perhaps one of my greatest examples of an album revealing itself more and more to me on each revisit – so much so that I've recently purchased it. It was probably only in 2022 or so that I gave it my first ever listen. It wasn't love at first sight for me – initially I struggled with its sleazy, uneven production and its eschewing of shorter, more accessible song structures, but it always felt like there was something for me hidden beneath the surface challenge. I'd now go as far as to say that Suede might be my favourite band amongst those associated with the Britpop scene, and nowadays this is an album that flows by smoothly whilst offering an extraordinary amount of depth and emotional push and pull. The Bowie comparisons / influence here is more than palpable, and I think becoming more acquainted with his back catalogue only served to benefit this on subsequent listens. I would agree that, stylistically and thematically, they don't really fit the more optimistic template that I tend to associate with the Britpop movement, with Suede more so linked by time period and origin. I think its murkiness is precisely what endears it more to me. It's a grand, ambitious statement, and for me it absolutely has the minerals to back itself up.

I don't feel like I need to elaborate too much on this one. It's regarded as a classic for a reason, courtesy of its thrilling sonic architecture and polyrhythmic genius, although I often see opinions along the lines of the second half being a drop off from the first because of its comparative experimentation and inaccessibility. However, for me, that's when Remain in Light is at its most interesting and volatile.

Has this stripped me of the will to go about the rest of my day today? Yes, yes it has. It's just the most cynical R&B chart slop you could ever imagine. Completely hollow, distant and manufactured for a wide-eyed pre-teen demographic. She can sing, but everything about her presence and lyrical writing on this album feels engineered to make the mega bucks rain cause it was what the kids wanted innit!

More like Jack Takes the Piss. Absolutely bloody awful.

I was somewhat nervous heading into this, thinking I'd be greeted with a fairly standard wanky 80s album, but this was far more volatile, unhinged and fractured than I could have ever hoped for. Structurally, this felt disjointed in the sense of each member seemingly wanting to pull into different directions from one another – there were some interesting diversions and complexities to the songwriting, even if the album itself is largely indebted to pop-rock sensibilities. Tonally and sonically, it also felt rather angular and off-beat in some aspects, with a dark psychological undercurrent to it. Therefore, I can see myself returning to try and further unpack the intrigue, and perhaps even purchasing this.

It's all been said before innit? Comfortably my favourite Nirvana album

More cynical, characterless cash-grabbing crap with next to no memorable qualities or redeeming features.

It's not terrible, but the twangy instrumentation/vocals and fairly unsophisticated nature to proceedings aren't much my thing.

This was very different to prior Springsteen I've heard and far less saccharine on the whole than I was expecting, showing that Springsteen has multiple strings to his bow. There were aspects of this that I was able to appreciate, such as the piano playing on multiple songs and the tight, warm bass guitar radiating through the album. However, stylistically, it kind of felt like an inferior Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds in some ways, the vocals frequently became tiresome for me and I just struggle to relate to the very Americanised lyricism.

I've never really understood how this album lives up to the towering mythos and adulation often associated with it – I've always found it to be one of EatB's weaker albums, despite occasional moments of greatness though numbers such as "The Killing Moon" and "Nocturnal Me". It hits a real lull otherwise, where the grandiose production starts feeling like a crutch to mask meandering, melodramatic hook-sparse songwriting lacking in energy.

There are two types of prog for me; that which truly takes you on an emotional rollercoaster of a journey with proper care paid to songwriting craft, and that which just widdles around without much rhyme or reason because it can. This is the latter in my view and, resultantly, it's nothing special, despite the obvious talent and proficiency.

My second Nirvana album within a week, and again there's not much point in waffling about this one as it's so ubiquitous at this point. It's an iconic, classic album that soundtracked my chaotic teenage years whilst I was figuring out my sense of identity, although it's perhaps not the flawless masterpiece it's frequently cracked out to be. I'm not massively keen on "Polly" or "Drain You", but the strength of the other 10 tracks ensures it receives a 9/10 and five stars from me.

Inoffensive but wholly unremarkable rock. Whilst I have listened to this before, I couldn't recall a single detail about it on this listen, and I'm struggling again on this attempt immediately after the fact.

An interesting take on country-punk to begin with, but this quickly lost momentum and began to grate in a vocal sense. Not for me.

This might be the most offensively boring album I've ever heard, or it is at the very least right up there. Completely hollow, pathetic, vapid, weak shite without a single shred of charm, conviction, danger, individuality or anything otherwise remotely engaging about it. A bona-fide contractual obligation of an album. Genuinely don't think I could have been dealt anything worse for my soul after last night's England disappointment – in some perverse, sadistic way, it kind of accentuates that feeling of yet more hopes and dreams swirling down the plughole as entirely soul-destroying stuff. It's put me in a horrible mood.

Sorry, but I'm not bothering with a single second of a 2hr 14m running time from an artist that I already know I don't like, and have already awarded a one star rating to prior, courtesy of their other entry in the book.

Bland, but passable enough country rock in an instrumental sense, although with a typically awful vocal performance for the genre akin to a sheep undergoing an exorcism. Not amongst the absolute worst things I've had to contend with on here, but still pretty rubbish.

Instrumentally, this isn't too bad at all – it's actually quite emotional and evocative on tracks where the piano takes a greater hold of the songwriting, and I like the rough-around-the-edges sound which allows some of the riffs to slice through effectively. I just can't get past the horrible whiny, off-key vocals on a great number of tracks, or indeed the use of harmonica.