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