Another band I feel like I know well, even though I really only know the hits. Sitting with the full record puts them in clearer focus — and yep, it’s folk and mostly Dylan covers everywhere. But The Byrds made them shimmer. Roger McGuinn’s jangly 12-string Rickenbacker is legendary — bright, chirpy, and now synonymous with this thing called folk rock that The Byrds helped popularise. There’s a sweetness to the sound, but a quiet confidence underneath. These weren’t just Dylan acolytes in matching jackets — they were the first truly effective American band to challenge the British Invasion on the charts. The Beatles might’ve kicked the door down, but The Byrds walked through with shades on. And the influence? Actually insane. You can trace a straight line from here to everyone like The Turtles, Simon & Garfunkel, the Smiths, The Stone Roses, Big Star, R.E.M., Tom Petty, Wilco… even early Jayhawks. The ripple effect is everywhere. Verdict: Very very excellent (not *quite* essential — I’ve lived most of my life without hearing it) For fans of: Dylan covers, The Beatles, Big Star, harmonies on highways and post-acid clarity

Had never heard before. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Excellent and thoroughly enjoyable. Contains a certain quirk in places, that breaks up what otherwise could become a dull overall listen. Quite serious in others. A sea shanty popped up third. The approach of the album made me think of someone like Harry Nilsson, except with little more theatrics and/or Americana storytelling.

A classic. Have loved this one for a long time.

Pretty good. I thought it would be better, given its status as a classic. The title track is obviously iconic, the others are kinda wallpaper.

No words. The best album ever!

Not for me, personally. I can hear it’s solid, well written and executed. I’m not a fan of fiddles or weird alt-country by former punks, but here we are.

Look, I get it. It’s a classic. The musicianship is nuts — Navarro in particular is off his rocker in the best way. But Perry’s vocals never quite hit for me; too much theatre, not enough nuance. Still, this album oozes sweaty, chaotic, late-‘80s LA energy. It’s a mood — just not always mine. Feels like the official soundtrack for American dudes who quote Fight Club and still call it “my truth.”

This is the very definition of “classic” — not just because it’s old and revered, but because it still kicks like thunder. Every track is iconic in its own way, from the blues swagger of ‘Black Dog’ to the god-tier apocalypse of ‘When the Levee Breaks’. Even ‘Stairway’ — overplayed as it is — still towers. This isn’t just a band at their peak, it’s rock itself crystallising into legend.

I’ll be honest — I went into this expecting “Come On Eileen” cosplay and came out feeling attacked by brass. I’d written Dexys off as one-hit wonders, but this debut? It’s an entirely different beast: loud, frantic, and wildly committed to being very horny (musically). Kevin Rowland delivers every line like he’s either being exorcised or urgently trying to clear his throat. Spotify doesn't even know the lyrics — probably because no one’s ever managed to decipher them. Did this influence The Mighty Mighty Bosstones? Feels spiritually adjacent. But for me? Bit much. Way too much horn, not enough harmony.

Never heard this one before, and honestly? Loved it. It’s twitchy, atmospheric, and full of that irresistible gothic drama — all smoke, shadow, and slow panic. The production is murky as hell (like the band set up a studio in a crawlspace), but it works. It’s cold and stylish and just weird enough to stay interesting. A gloomy little gem that connects the dots between Ian Curtis and every black-clad post-punk band that followed.

Have never liked her — but maybe I’m beginning to start. Weird thing, taste. Björk’s always been a bit much for me — too squeaky, too kooky, too… Icelandic goblin queen. But Debut caught me off guard. It’s gentle, glitchy, and not nearly as impenetrable as I remembered. Tracks like ‘Human Behaviour’ and ‘Venus as a Boy’ have a curious charm, like someone whispering riddles through a lava lamp. I’m not all in yet, but I’m peeking through the curtain — and it’s starting to make sense.

Another one that’s not for me, in fact bu the time it got to ‘Naked Man’ (track 9), it started to properly irritate me.

God, this is good. Damon was in his “between things” era — Blur on pause, Gorillaz riding high — but The Good, The Bad & The Queen doesn’t feel like a side project. It feels like a mood. Floating, reflective, faintly haunted. A little punk, a little dubby, a little London ghost story. Backed by an actual supergroup and produced by Danger Mouse, it could’ve been a Gorillaz record… but it isn’t. It’s something slower, sadder, and deeper. Quietly brilliant.

This is blues at its absolute best. Raw, alive, and smooth as fuck. Live at the Regal captures B.B. King in full command — not just of his band, but of the entire damn room. It’s the kind of record that makes you understand why Clapton, Mayer, and Knopfler all bowed at his feet. Lucille sings, the crowd roars, and you’re right there in the thick of it. Not a wasted note can be heard here.

This was a surprise. Pelican West is pure escapist joy — all complex bass, nimble guitars, and brass flourishes that scream “hey, we really love black music, okay?” It’s got that unmistakable ‘80s vocal tone — all breathy earnestness from guys who probably owned at least two pairs of boat shoes. The songwriting’s surprisingly clever, and for a debut (and only) album, it holds up. They were never going to be sexy or dangerous, but that was kind of the point. Just a warm, funky breeze from the friendliest corner of the yacht.

xx still hits like a stolen glance across a dark nightclub. Hefty bass, bare arrangements, and that uncanny intimacy between Romy and Oliver — vocal chemistry that transcends orientation and turns vulnerability into tension. Jamie xx would go on to be the MVP, but this debut is lightning in a soft-spoken bottle. Minimalist and magnetic, it’s aged like smoke and good perfume — barely there, but unforgettable. As essential as the day it arrived.

It’s hard to revisit this one without all the baggage, but damn… The College Dropout is hands down one of the greatest debut albums of all time. ‘Jesus Walks’ alone is a revelation — bold, spiritual, revolutionary. And then there’s ‘All Falls Down’, ‘Through The Wire’, ‘Spaceship’ — classics, front to back. The songs are there, the features are there, his ego’s already there, but it’s fuelled by hunger — not yet warped by fame or delusion. There’s humility in the delivery, even when he’s flexing. It’s self-aware, soulful, and sonically rich. Whatever came later, this album still stands. A stand-up classic that changed hip hop, and I hope Ye listens a bit closer to this stuff again.

I’m not across Everly Brothers’ records, only familiar with the hits — and might I say, damn fond of them. They say no one can harmonise as well as siblings, and Don and Phil just might be the strongest arguement of that. This one’s smooth as satin and sharp as a blade. Every track is drenched in that unmistakable sibling blend — tight, angelic, and slightly haunted. The songwriting’s clean, the production pristine, and yet there’s something just beneath the surface: longing, ache, restraint. It’s easy to write them off as pre-Beatles bubblegum, but there’s real craft here. A date worth keeping.

Confession : as a kid, Billy Corgan’s nasally whine and messiah complex sent me running. Adult me? Eating my hat. The guy was hurting, and Siamese Dream is a howl through the static — suicidal depression and all. Butch Vig’s fingerprints are all over it (Nevermind says hi), and Jimmy Chamberlin’s drumming? Like a jazz-trained war machine on a heroin timer. Songs! Songs! Songs! ‘Today’ is the sunniest song about feeling like ending it all you’ll ever hear, ‘Disarm’ is a gut-punch wrapped in strings, and ‘Mayonaise’? 🤌🏻 This album is guitars on guitars on guitars — shimmering, suffocating, sweet and searing all at once. “The next Nirvana,” they said. Nah. This was its own monster: ornate, ambitious, and still capable of levelling you 30 years later.

Those who know me, know I often lead with my adoration of Prince, so this one is a bit of a lol. But seriously — Purple Rain is perfect. No skips. It’s funky, it’s horny, it’s hip, and it’s still utterly mind-blowing 40 years later. The only artist ever to hold the #1 album, song and movie simultaneously? Prince. And this album is why. Songs! ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ kicks the doors off the hinges, ‘When Doves Cry’ still sounds like nothing else on earth, and the title track? It’s a stadium-sized hymn that will outlive us all. And everything in between, is perfectly placed and flawlessly executed. This isn’t just a record, it’s a cultural phenomenon.

The sound of a new Miles Davis being born — very, very quietly. Miles goes electric. Causes controversy. Eventually hailed a masterpiece. All true. This isn’t jazz to tap your foot to — it’s jazz to lose yourself inside of. In a Silent Way ebbs and flows and the host himself invites you in, sits you down to indulge his world. Long, hypnotic movements. Trumpet lines barely there — more like a signal from somewhere far off. Electric piano, ambient textures, and the birth of something new. It floats, it breathes, it waits. This is a turning point in jazz and a gentle revolution.

🗯 Beyond essential, if possible — transformational. Well, here’s a no-brainer. I’ve had a few during this project, but this one truly changed how I hear music. OK Computer shifted the culture and rewired listeners. Dystopian and human, intimate and alien, it predicted the anxiety of the digital age while sounding completely untethered to it. It felt like a line in the sand the first time I heard it — a clear before and after. It took the guts of alternative rock, fed them through a broken modem, and somehow emerged with something symphonic. It’s cold and intimate, mechanical and emotional — like a robot mourning its own circuitry. ‘Airbag’ opens like a car crash in slow motion. ‘Paranoid Android’ is a prog-rock masterclass for the disillusioned. ‘Let Down’ Is still one of the most devastating songs ever written about modern life. It predicted culture. That mix of isolation, overload, and quiet collapse? 1997 could’ve easily missed it, but we got it and, maybe we didn’t deserve it at the time, but we caught up and it remains one of the finest ever!

Another band I feel like I know well, even though I really only know the hits. Sitting with the full record puts them in clearer focus — and yep, it’s folk and mostly Dylan covers everywhere. But The Byrds made them shimmer. Roger McGuinn’s jangly 12-string Rickenbacker is legendary — bright, chirpy, and now synonymous with this thing called folk rock that The Byrds helped popularise. There’s a sweetness to the sound, but a quiet confidence underneath. These weren’t just Dylan acolytes in matching jackets — they were the first truly effective American band to challenge the British Invasion on the charts. The Beatles might’ve kicked the door down, but The Byrds walked through with shades on. And the influence? Actually insane. You can trace a straight line from here to everyone like The Turtles, Simon & Garfunkel, the Smiths, The Stone Roses, Big Star, R.E.M., Tom Petty, Wilco… even early Jayhawks. The ripple effect is everywhere. Verdict: Very very excellent (not *quite* essential — I’ve lived most of my life without hearing it) For fans of: Dylan covers, The Beatles, Big Star, harmonies on highways and post-acid clarity

🗯 Starts on the porch, ends in the garage — both sides glorious. I’ve seen this around heaps, but was never excited by Young so didn’t bother. Joke’s on me! Side A is acoustic and intimate, Neil in storyteller mode with the kind of songs that feel timeless. Side B? He straps in with Crazy Horse and basically sketches the blueprint for grunge a decade early. ‘Powderfinger’ is a scorcher and one of his finest ever — and the namesake for the Aussie band — while ‘My My, Hey Hey (Out Of The Blue)’ drops that immortal line: “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.” Here’s the kicker — most of it was recorded live on tour, but with the crowd noise stripped out, making it feel like a studio album with an untamed edge. I enjoyed this way more than I expected — raw, fearless, and bloody excellent from start to finish. Proof that Neil could be delicate and devastating in the same breath. This album fucking slaps!!

🗯 Still an absolute blinder. 19 years on and it hasn’t lost a drop of its pint-splattered brilliance. It’s sonic crack. This album meant something to me at the time — still does. One of the finest of that mid-aughts wave. They seemed to arrive fully formed, all energy and elbows, like they’d been waiting their whole lives for this exact moment. The drums are ferocious — up there with Matt Tong on Silent Alarm — and the guitars punch with purpose. And then there’s Alex Turner: barely 20 and already dropping lines like he’s seen the whole world through a taxi window at 3am. It’s lad culture dressed in poetry, small-town stories with stadium-sized charisma. And songs, well, it’s an embarrassment of riches. It was the fastest-selling debut in UK history — and somehow, it’s even better than we gave it credit for.

🎵 Day 27 / Belle & Sebastian – Tigermilk (1996) 🗯 A cult favourite, but this one didn’t hit me where it counts. I know it’s a lauded debut, but for me Tigermilk felt like little more than sonic wallpaper. Pleasant, nice, well-written, inoffensive — all the things Belle & Sebastian do well — but here, nothing really stands out to my ears. I like Belle & Sebastian a lot (I’ve got a few of their albums on vinyl), but this one pales next to what they’d go on to do later. It’s the shy first step — delicate and diary-like — but missing the sparkle, wit or standout songwriting that would come to define them. Respect it? Yes. Return to it? I’m not rushing to. Verdict: Good, not essential For fans of: The Smiths, Camera Obscura, art school crushes and soft-spoken sadness on a Sunday

🗯 Teenage angst, industrial polish, and hooks for days — you couldn’t escape it, and honestly, why would you want to? Hybrid Theory was everywhere. Blaring from cars, in bedrooms, in burned CD stacks with “DO NOT TOUCH” scribbled in black Sharpie. And while nu-metal hasn’t aged gracefully, this debut still slaps harder than it probably should. Chester Bennington and Mike Shinoda’s one-two vocal punch was lightning in a bottle — anguish and aggression trading off with clinical precision. The production is clean and cutting, with distorted guitars rubbing up against icy electronics. It’s like Rage Against the Machine if they spent more time with Pro Tools and their journals. It’s easy to write off music like this as adolescent fury, but there’s real catharsis here — and melodies that never quit. For a lot of us, this was a first brush with heavy. And it stuck.

🗯 Not Britpop — but the Big Bang that made it possible. One of the great debut albums! The Stone Roses’ debut is a perfect album. The songwriting’s off the chain, the guitars are delightfully jangly, the musicality is gorgeous. It precursed Britpop entirely — Oasis, Blur, Pulp all owe them a debt, and they’ve been honest about it. But this is its own beast: psychedelic swagger, Madchester groove, and a singer who could make arrogance sound like gospel. Songs! Songs! Songs!: ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ (slow-burn swagger), ‘She Bangs the Drums’ (pure dopamine), ‘Waterfall’ (that riff!), ‘Made of Stone’ (swagger + shimmer), ‘I Am the Resurrection’ (god-tier closer — one of my all-time favourite songs, full stop). Verdict: Essential For fans of: The La’s, Happy Mondays, Primal Scream, and feeling like you’ve just discovered the centre of the universe in a sweaty club.

What a Can co-founder sounds like with a synth, a stack of VHS tapes, and no curfew! Holger Czukay — bassist, sonic tinkerer, and founding member of Can — spent months channel-surfing and taping whatever caught his ear. The result is Movies: a collage of layered synths, rubbery basslines, African drums, and media snippets woven into something equal parts funky, surreal, and strangely cinematic. It’s more “art installation” than “needle-drop party starter” — I’m not sure how often I’d spin it if I owned it on vinyl, but as a first listen it’s fascinating. You can hear the restless curiosity, the playfulness, the thrill of finding unexpected beauty in the static between stations. Verdict: Excellent (as an experience) For fans of: Can, Brian Eno, Talking Heads, crate-digging for TV soundbites you don’t yet understand.

🗯 Before they were, well, legends, Jack and Meg were just two people in red, white, and black making the coolest garage rock around. White Blood Cells is the moment The White Stripes broke out of Detroit and directly into the world’s bloodstream. It’s raw but confident, brimming with scrappy hooks, stomping riffs, and that unpolished charm that made them feel dangerous and inviting at the same time. ‘Fell in Love with a Girl’ is a shot of pure adrenaline, ‘Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground’ a perfect opener, and ‘We’re Going to Be Friends’ a rare moment of gentleness amid the fuzz. ‘Hotel Yorba’, ‘I Smell A Rat’ — it all plays like an early greatest hits. The magic here is in its simplicity — Jack’s guitar and Meg’s drumming, nothing more, nothing less. It’s proof you don’t need much to sound massive, just chemistry and conviction. Was astonishing then, remains astonishing now! Verdict: Essential For fans of: The Strokes, The Black Keys, garage rock revival, and strict colour codes.

🗯 If rock ’n’ roll has a Big Bang, this is one of the loudest. A lot of people owe Little Richard a lot — Otis Redding, James Brown, Etta James, Richard Berry, Big Al Downing, Thurston Harris — and that’s before you even get to the ones who re-recorded these very songs: The Beatles, Elvis, Buddy Holly, The Everly Brothers, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, John Fogerty, Mitch Ryder, the Rolling Stones. The very definition of immeasurable influence (seriously, read his Wiki). This debut was billed as “six of Little Richard’s hits and six brand new songs of hit calibre,” and they weren’t lying. You’ve got ‘Tutti Frutti,’ ‘Long Tall Sally,’ ‘Slippin’ and Slidin’,’ ‘Rip It Up,’ ‘Jenny, Jenny,’ plus R&B Best-Sellers like ‘Ready Teddy,’ ‘She’s Got It,’ and ‘Miss Ann.’ I don’t always gravitate to the old-school rock ’n’ roll sound, but when I do, I love it — and this is pure Saturday-night energy. Takes me right back to being a kid, dancing with Mum to the Jukebox Saturday Night playlist on local radio. 🗯 If rock ’n’ roll has a Big Bang, this is one of the loudest. A lot of people owe Little Richard a lot — Otis Redding, James Brown, Etta James, Richard Berry, Big Al Downing, Thurston Harris — and that’s before you even get to the ones who re-recorded these very songs: The Beatles, Elvis, Buddy Holly, The Everly Brothers, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, John Fogerty, Mitch Ryder, the Rolling Stones. The very definition of immeasurable influence (seriously, read his Wiki). This debut was billed as “six of Little Richard’s hits and six brand new songs of hit calibre,” and they weren’t lying. You’ve got ‘Tutti Frutti,’ ‘Long Tall Sally,’ ‘Slippin’ and Slidin’,’ ‘Rip It Up,’ ‘Jenny, Jenny,’ plus R&B Best-Sellers like ‘Ready Teddy,’ ‘She’s Got It,’ and ‘Miss Ann.’ I don’t always gravitate to the old-school rock ’n’ roll sound, but when I do, I love it — and this is pure Saturday-night energy. Takes me right back to being a kid, dancing with Mum to the Jukebox Saturday Night playlist on local radio. Experiencing the emergence of Little Richard in 1957 must’ve been like getting hit by a bolt of lightning in the dark. He’s everything that time wasn’t, and the next time would be. The album’s chaotic, joyful, and still has the power to blow the roof off. Verdict: Essential (in context) For fans of: Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, and the roots of rock in its purest, wildest form Experiencing the emergence of Little Richard in 1957 must’ve been like getting hit by a bolt of lightning in the dark. He’s everything that time wasn’t, and the next time would be. The album’s chaotic, joyful, and still has the power to blow the roof off. Verdict: Essential (in context) For fans of: Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, and the roots of rock in its purest, wildest form

🎵 Day 32 / Kelela – Take Me Apart (2017) 🗯 Unsure why this is on the “must hear before you die” list, it’s sonic wallpaper for H&M and the like. I can see why this was lauded in 2017 — sleek, futuristic R&B production that felt fresh at the time. But time moves fast, and now it just drifts by without much grip. It isn’t bad but it slides by in a haze, all style and little that sticks. Verdict: Not essential For fans of: FKA twigs (on a coffee break), Solange’s A Seat at the Table but with the edges sanded off

🎵 Day 33 / Digital Underground – Sex Packets (1990) 🗯 Old-school funk, absurdist skits, and a dash of social satire — Sex Packets is a trip. Literally. This was the crew that discovered 2Pac, but here the spotlight belongs to Shock G and his alter ego Humpty Hump. “The Humpty Dance” was the breakout hit, a party anthem that’s still instantly recognisable — though not everyone got the joke. Shock G copped flak for leaning into Humpty’s cartoonish voice and fake nose, with some critics dismissing it as a gimmick. But the humour was intentional, a way of satirising hip hop personas while still dropping serious grooves. The album blends Parliament-Funkadelic-style bass lines with Golden Age hip hop playfulness. Live drums pop up alongside drum machines, giving the beats a looseness you don’t always hear from that era. The concept — a fictional pill that simulates sex — is absurd in the best way, with storytelling that swerves from sly to surreal. Innovative for its day, and still a blast now. Funky, freaky, and full of personality — Sex Packets is proof that hip hop can be weird and still hit hard. Verdict: Essential (for funk-rap history, fearless concept work, and pure weird joy) For fans of: Parliament, De La Soul, early 2Pac, and not taking yourself too seriously.

🎵 Day 34 / Elvis Costello & The Attractions – Armed Forces (1979) 🗯 New wave with post-punk edges, sharpened into something shinier — Armed Forces was Costello’s most commercial-leaning record to date. You can hear the ambition in every tightly-wound verse, every hook polished to a dangerous edge. He sounds hungry, like a man chasing the big time without letting go of his bite. The songs are consistently strong, even if the outright “hits” aren’t everywhere — though it does contain “Oliver’s Army,” a melody so breezy it could play in a shopping mall without anyone noticing it’s about imperialism. The Attractions are in lethal form here, blending wiry guitars with wiry nerves, organs buzzing in the corners like fluorescent lights about to pop. There’s a precision to the playing that makes even the jauntiest moments feel tense. It’s music that wants to charm you, but it’s still watching you and your every move. Verdict: Excellent (ambitious and lean — not quite a gateway album, but close) For fans of: The Jam, Graham Parker, Joe Jackson, sharp suits with sharper tongues

🎵 Day 36 / Beck – Odelay (1996) 🗯 Beck was never supposed to be more than the ‘Loser’ guy. Instead, his outing with The Dust Brothers blew that and the whole idea of genre in general to pieces. Already a huge fan of this record, it’s a junkyard carnival — hip hop loops, dusty folk, fuzzed-out garage riffs, mariachi horns, and whatever else he felt like throwing in. And somehow, it works. Songs like ‘Where It’s At’, ‘Devils Haircut’, and ‘The New Pollution’ are stitched together from samples and scraps, but they swagger like fully-formed anthems. It’s messy, absurd, and deeply, deeply cool. When someone asks, “How do I get into Beck!” I tell them to listen to this and ‘Sea Change’. One moment you’re in a thrift-store rap, the next you’re knee-deep in psychedelic blues. Credit to the Dust Brothers (also behind Paul’s Boutique) for turning Beck’s eccentric vision into a landmark of 90s postmodern pop. This isn’t just eclecticism for its own sake — it’s a snapshot of a decade drunk on possibility. Still feels refreshing almost 30 years later. Play it loud! Verdict: Essential For fans of: Beastie Boys, Pavement, Blur, sampledelia at its peak

🎵 Day 36 / Ray Charles – Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music (1962) 🗯 In 1962, Ray Charles pulled off something unthinkable. He shifted from rhythm & blues into the sacred white space of country & western — and in the process, cracked it wide open for everyone. Think Beyoncé in the early 60s: uniting audiences, rewriting expectations, and sounding effortless. The record itself? Less cowboy boots, more big-band swing — lush arrangements, strings, brass, gospel-inflected backing vocals. It might not sound all that “country” to modern ears, but it’s all covers delivered with such conviction that they become Ray’s. ‘I Can’t Stop Loving You’ alone is a towering crossover moment — R&B phrasing set against syrupy Nashville strings, turned into a #1 hit. It’s not just a record, it’s a cultural earthquake. Proof that country and soul — black and white, uptown and downhome — could not only coexist but thrive together. Verdict: Essential For fans of: Sam Cooke, Patsy Cline, Solomon Burke, the bridges Beyoncé and Lil Nas X would later build.

🎵 Day 37 / Blood, Sweat & Tears – Blood, Sweat & Tears (1968) 🗯 Look, I get it — the chops are good, the horn arrangements are airtight, and for some listeners this is going to feel like stepping into a jazz-rock cathedral. But to me? It’s like getting trapped in the extended soundtrack to an old cowboy film that never ends. All hats, horses, and brass flourishes. That’s not to say it isn’t impressive. These guys could play well compared to most bands of the era, and the fusion of jazz, pop, and rock here was groundbreaking. ‘Spinning Wheel’ and ‘You’ve Made Me So Very Happy’ were big hits for a reason. But personally, it’s a record I admire more than enjoy. Verdict: Not my jam For fans of: Chicago, Steely Dan, horn sections with something to prove

🗯 Already one of my all-time favourites, but hearing it in the context of this project only deepens it. If Abbey Road was George peeking out from Lennon/McCartney’s shadow, All Things Must Pass is him stepping fully into the light — sprawling, spiritual, and absolutely overflowing with songs that prove he’d been underestimated for far too long. It’s a presence. I often think I can feel his energy here, and it projects the same onto me: calmness, openness, connectedness. For an album produced by Phil Spector and featuring moments of his trademark “wall of sound” and being so monumental in scope, it somehow remains deeply intimate, almost spiritual. It just gets better with time. ‘My Sweet Lord’ glows with devotion, ‘What Is Life’ races with pure joy, ‘Isn’t It a Pity’ aches with resigned beauty, and the title track feels like universal truth set to melody. Deep cuts shine just as brightly: the intimacy of ‘I’d Have You Anytime,’ the wall of sound on ‘Wah-Wah,’ the weary wisdom of ‘Beware of Darkness,’ and the quiet resignation of ‘Run of the Mill.’ Even the sprawling Apple Jam disc, indulgent as it may seem, feels like George celebrating his newfound freedom in his own way. This isn’t just the best Beatles solo album, it is George fully realised — a moment where his quiet grace became towering greatness. It’s also one of the greatest testaments to what music can be: a transmission of spirit, something that steadies you, lifts you, and stays with you long after the needle lifts. Verdict: Essential — the finest solo Beatles statement For fans of: The Beatles (post-breakup), Bob Dylan, Leon Russell, cosmic introspection set to melody

🗯 The Cramps warped rock ’n’ roll into something gloriously trashy, sleazy, and undead. Their debut is a supernatural jukebox coughing up B-movie grease and garage-punk grit. It’s kitsch, it’s camp, it’s controlled chaos. ‘I Was a Teenage Werewolf’ and ‘Garbageman’ are the school disco/car drive at night bangers you need, while Lux Interior howls like Elvis trapped in a horror flick. Poison Ivy’s guitar twang drips with menace and humour in equal measure. It’s novelty, sure — but novelty turned into art by sheer conviction and attitude. The whole intoxicating novelty wears a bit over the course of a whole album, but that might just my poor kitsch tolerance levels. Verdict: Essential (if only to remind yourself that rock can still be fun, filthy, and feral) For fans of: The Stooges, The B-52’s at their weirdest, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, horror movie matinees and John Waters’ VHS shelf

🗯 Salsa’s biggest-selling record ever — essential for certain dance floors, less so for my turntable. There’s no denying the influence here: a landmark in Latin music, packed with brass firepower, stories that balance politics and poetry, and enough rhythm to keep a salsa class spinning all night. But for me, as much as I can admire it and I really did enjoy the play through today, I’d probably never reach for it again outside of this context. Still, Siembra is the sound of a movement — and that’s what makes it unskippable in a project like this. Verdict: Essential (for salsa heads, not for me) For fans of: Héctor Lavoe, Celia Cruz, Buena Vista Social Club, socially conscious Latin grooves

🗯 From annoying the shit outta me to reluctant props. Growing up and especially as a DJ in party bars and clubs for 20 years, I couldn’t care less about Adam & The Ants if I tried, and always avoided playing them. There were always better campy videos and pantomime posturing that needed airtime, theirs just grated. But revisiting this? I’ve got to admit: ‘Dog Eat Dog’ slaps, and ‘Antmusic’ is undeniable when it comes to hooks. I still feel like it’s all very transparent, but there is something clever happening here — a novelty sheen masking some real chops in arrangement and vision. It’s glam remnants dressed up in new wave threads, stitched together with post-punk grit and a bit of straight rock’n’roll strut. Not much sounds like it, and it turns out Adam knew what he was doing after all: marrying kitsch commercialism with a strange kind of credibility. In 2025, I hear it differently. Verdict: Better than I ever thought I’d say For fans of: Bow Wow Wow, Roxy Music, Siouxsie & the Banshees

The culmination of one of the greatest stretches of albums in rock history: Beggars Banquet → Let It Bleed → Sticky Fingers → Exile on Main St.. No band has ever sounded more badass, more decadent, or more dangerously untouchable. Exile isn’t just a Stones record — it’s one of the greatest rock ’n’ roll albums of all time. Recorded while the band were dodging England’s tax laws, holed up in a villa in France, it’s the stuff of folklore (seriously, Google it — debauchery, decadence, and genius all in one smoky basement). The sound is raw, swampy, and sprawling — gospel, blues, country, and straight-up rock stitched together into a glorious mess. It’s chaotic, imperfect, and that’s exactly why it’s perfect. Tracks like Rocks Off, Rip This Joint, Sweet Virginia, and Happy feel like the Stones at their most alive, stumbling but electric. And then there’s Tumbling Dice — on some days, my favourite Stones song of all. Loose, groovy, transcendent. Verdict: Essential (peak Stones, peak rock ’n’ roll) For fans of: Faces, The Band, Black Crowes, blues-soaked basement jams

🗯 It’s exactly what the title suggests — lush, witty, and romantic, but maybe a little too polite for me to return to. The production is mint: strings sweep, arrangements sparkle, and Neil Hannon’s croon has a theatrical charm that carries the whole record. It’s clever and beautifully made, but on my listen nothing really hooked deep enough to demand a return visit. Not bad, not unlistenable — just a pleasant listen that passes without leaving much of a dent. Verdict: Fine but not essential For fans of: Pulp, Scott Walker, chamber pop with a wink and a tuxedo

🎵 Album #45 / Frank Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim – Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim (1967) 🗯 When Ol’ Blue Eyes met the father of bossa nova, the result was pure elegance — a whisper of jazz, a sway of samba, and a whole lot of restraint. Sinatra reins in the bravado, phrasing with a smoothness that perfectly complements Jobim’s nylon-string guitar, brushed percussion, and subtle orchestration. It’s still Sinatra, clear and commanding, but softened at the edges to let the bossa nova breeze carry the mood. The Girl from Ipanema seduces without trying, Dindi feels like a candlelit slow dance, and Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars is exactly what the title promises. The whole record glows with late-night warmth — gentle, romantic, and timelessly classy. For me? It’s not fireworks or drama, but a record of pure atmosphere. Music to set a room, a mood, or a moment. Verdict: Essential (romance, cocktails, after-dark) For fans of: João Gilberto, Astrud Gilberto, Stan Getz, mood-setting bossa nova

🗯 Still a stone cold killet album, even if ‘Mr Brightside’ has hit self-parody status from sheer overexposure. I actually met and chatted with the band in a café in Hollywood just as this album was breaking. At the time, I’d only heard ‘Somebody Told Me’ (still a banger) — which I was regularly spinning in my DJ sets — so it was a kick to meet them before the rocket really launched. The singles here remain undeniable: Somebody Told Me, All These Things That I’ve Done, Smile Like You Mean It, and yes, Mr Brightside — the sort of debut run most bands would sell their souls for. I never fully indulged The Killers beyond this debut — the blatant Springsteen mimicry of their second album put me off — but I’ve always dipped back into the singles when they’ve tickled my fancy. Hot Fuss, though, remains a sharp reminder of when they sounded lean, neon-lit, and ready to take on the world. When dancing to guitars reigned again for a bit — what a glorious time!! Verdict: Essential (a modern classic for catching lightning in a bottle) For fans of: Interpol, certain Bowie cues, Franz Ferdinand, Brandon Flowers’ eyeliner

🎵 Album #48 / Megadeth – Rust in Peace (1990) 🗯 A shredder’s dream — musicianship so ridiculous it borders on inhuman. I haven’t listened to this since I was a kid bashing away on drums, desperately trying to keep up. No chance. The playing on here is next-level: Dave Mustaine’s riffs, Marty Friedman’s solos, Nick Menza’s machine-precise drumming — it’s all fucking insane. Spinning it in the car reminded me how much this stuff thrives at volume. It’s thrash at its most technical and ambitious, a full-on showcase of what metal could do when you pushed speed, precision, and complexity to the limit. Is it essential? Depends who you ask. It’s very of its time — pure early-90s thrash aesthetics — but it still has diehards who worship it for good reason. For me, I just enjoyed the hell out of it. Verdict: Killer (whether or not it’s “essential,” it’s undeniable) For fans of: Metallica, Slayer, Testament, playing way beyond your grade on guitar

🎵 Album #49 / Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt & Emmylou Harris – Trio (1987) 🗯 Country’s Avengers? A female Highwaymen? But instead of capes and hectic testosterone, it’s cowboy boots, hair bigger than Texas, and harmonies that could part clouds. I didn’t even know this existed before now, but wow. Three icons at the peak of their powers, trading verses and locking into harmonies so tight you’d think they were born singing together. Dolly twangs like sunlight, Emmylou keeps it grounded, Linda soars like she’s got a jetpack hidden in her throat. The material leans traditional — gospel, bluegrass, and rootsy ballads — but in their hands, even the oldest standards feel timeless. To Know Him Is To Love Him shimmers, Those Memories of You aches, Wildflowers beams pure meadow joy. It’s not just a “supergroup” — it’s three giants having fun, and somehow making it sound effortless. Passing this one onto Mum! Verdict: Excellent (a harmony masterclass with extra hairspray) For fans of: Patsy Cline, Alison Krauss, Dolly wigs, voices that sound like home

🎵 Album #50 / The Streets – A Grand Don’t Come for Free 🗯 A concept album about a missing £1,000 shouldn’t work this well — but Mike Skinner turned it into a captivating story that plays like a film. Skinner’s gift here isn’t just in the beats or the hooks (though Dry Your Eyes, Fit But You Know It, and Blinded by the Lights are all killer singles). It’s the way he narrates — half-rap, half-conversation — like you’re sat next to him in a pub while he unspools the drama. Lost money, lost love, heartbreak, and the tiny victories of everyday life. It’s proof he could write a screenplay if he wanted — the detail, pacing, and character work are that sharp. And as much as it’s rooted in early-2000s UK life, it still hits with honesty and humour now. Verdict: Excellent (storytelling that still slaps) For fans of: Dizzee Rascal, Arctic Monkeys’ kitchen-sink realism, spoken-word diaries with a beat

🎵 Album #51 / Willie Nelson – Red Headed Stranger (1975) 🗯 Two concept albums in two days — yesterday’s was a screenplay, today’s is a ghost story. Where Mike Skinner packed A Grand Don’t Come for Free with chatter and detail, Willie strips everything back to the bone. Red Headed Stranger is as sparse as country ever got: voice, guitar, piano, the occasional brush of drums. Columbia thought it sounded like a demo — turns out it became one of the greatest outlaw country statements ever pressed. The story’s bleak — a preacher-gunslinger wandering after killing his wife and her lover — but the delivery is haunting in its understatement. Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain is the obvious classic, and the rest feels like parables told at closing time, half-whispered over an empty glass. Verdict: Respectable (a classic in country lore, but not essential for me personally) For fans of: Townes Van Zandt, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, storytelling with all the edges showing

🎵 Album #52 / The Smiths – Meat Is Murder (1985) 🗯 Yeah… dunno. I like The Smiths, but this one doesn’t do it for me — never has. For all of Morrissey’s wit, this feels more like passive-aggressive moaning set to Johnny Marr’s jangly but strangely flat backdrops. It’s not unlistenable — far from it — but compared to the sharper edges of their debut or the brilliance of The Queen Is Dead, Meat Is Murder just comes off a bit toneless and uninteresting. Sure, That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore lands, and How Soon Is Now? is a classic (though technically tacked on later in some versions). But as a whole, it doesn’t bite the way it should. Verdict: Meh / Not for me (I love The Smiths, but not this one) For fans of: The Cure at their moodiest, Echo & The Bunnymen, Morrissey in martyr mode

🗯 Before Led Zeppelin there was Truth — and if you think Jimmy Page wasn’t taking notes, you’re kidding yourself. Fresh out of the Yardbirds, Jeff Beck assembled a young Rod Stewart, Ronnie Wood, and a rhythm section ready to burn, then dropped one of the heaviest, most swaggering records of ’68. The blueprint for British hard rock is right here — blues stretched, electrified, and snarling. The overlaps with early Zep are almost comical: You Shook Me and Shapes of Things are practically dry runs for what Page and Plant would do months later. Rod’s unpolished howl foreshadows Robert Plant’s banshee wail, and Beck’s filthy, restless tone could go toe-to-toe with anyone. It’s raw, imperfect, and very much of its time — but the DNA is undeniable. Without Truth, Led Zeppelin don’t sound the way they do. Full stop. Verdict: Respect the Hustle (the missing link between the Yardbirds and Zeppelin, a record hiding in plain sight) For fans of: Led Zeppelin, The Yardbirds, Cream, Rod Stewart before the satin jackets

🗯 Not a Britpop album — but somehow still the best Britpop album. This was the Radiohead record I picked for my own record club, and it still feels like a leap from “that Creep band” into something with depth, ambition, and bruised beauty. It also, unfortunately, created Coldplay and Muse — proof that even brilliant things can leave messy legacies. But while their imitators turned into stadium schmaltz and prog cosplay, The Bends itself remains a wonder. The singles are bulletproof: High and Dry, Fake Plastic Trees, Just, Street Spirit (Fade Out). Those songs alone could’ve carried most bands for a career. Instead, this record caught Radiohead on the up and out of the Britpop lane even as they accidentally perfected it. It’s the record where Nigel Godrich enters the story, the record that changed Thom Yorke’s vocal after seeing Jeff Buckley and finishing Fake Plastic Trees, Jonny Greenwood flexed and owned, and a generation of soft lads took notes and reinterpreted it badly. Verdict: Essential (it spawned Coldplay and Muse, but somehow stayed amazing while they didn’t) For fans of: Jeff Buckley, Britpop kids with bigger dreams, Coldplay before they discovered confetti cannons

🗯 Prog largely leaves me cold — to my ears, it often feels like personality-free middle-aged men playing Dungeons & Dragons with their guitars and box of tissues close by. Not really my vibe. 🙄 Aqualung is the band’s most famous record, and I get why. It is impressive. Ian Anderson’s flute flourishes, the shifts between delicate folk and thundering riffs, the ambition to make rock more “serious” — it’s all here. The title track has bite, Cross-Eyed Mary struts, and Locomotive Breath is undeniably iconic. But the further it sprawls, the more I feel the “prog problem”: the virtuosity and concept outweigh the emotional pull. I respect it, and I know why it’s canon, but it’s not something I’m rushing back to spin. Verdict: Respectable (important, but not for me) For fans of: King Crimson, Yes, middle-aged men in capes rolling dice to riffs. ✊🏻💦

🗯 Sometimes selling out means levelling up. And who cares when it’s a monster like this? After a decade of thrash dominance, Metallica stripped things back, slowed things down, and made an album designed to conquer arenas — and it worked. Enter Sandman, Sad But True, The Unforgiven, Wherever I May Roam, Nothing Else Matters — these are songs so woven into the fabric of rock radio that even people who don’t know Metallica know Metallica. That’s an achievement! It’s divisive for diehards: too polished, too mainstream, too much Bob Rock gloss. But in hindsight, it’s the record that made them the biggest metal band on earth. The riffs are still heavy, the grooves punishing, and James Hetfield’s bark had never sounded bigger. Driving with this cranked still feels dangerous in the best way. Love it or loathe it, The Black Album is the moment Metallica bent metal to their will and dragged the genre into the mainstream. For this guy, it meant a little dude behind big drums trying to master these songs, thinking Lars was the consummate drummer. That was then….. 🤣 Verdict: Essential (not just for metal, but for rock as a whole) For fans of: Megadeth, Pantera, Guns N’ Roses, shouting “YEAH!” in a Hetfield growl

🗯 Cracked sunshine, innocence gone — but still gorgeous. This isn’t the same Beach Boys of Surfin’ Safari or even Pet Sounds. By 1971, the counterculture had burned bright and begun to collapse, and so had Brian Wilson. Surf’s Up feels like the wreckage and the beauty intertwined — lush harmonies, but with an unmistakable melancholy running through them. Tracks like ’Til I Die and A Day in the Life of a Tree ache with existential weight, while the title track (rescued from the abandoned Smile sessions) is nothing short of breathtaking, a hymn to lost utopias. Even the lighter cuts (Disney Girls, Long Promised Road) carry a wistfulness that makes the whole album feel haunted. It’s a late-era triumph, proof that The Beach Boys could still conjure magic while standing in the shadows of what they’d already done. Verdict: Excellent (a bruised beauty, less iconic than Pet Sounds but still deeply moving) For fans of: Brian Wilson, Smile-era fragments, melancholy wrapped in perfect harmony