This was my introduction to grunge. Memories of head thrashing to frequent plays of Smells Like Teen Spirit on MTV. Moody, offbeat lyrics set to solid guitar riffs and the pounding rhythm of drums and bass. Kurt Cobain captured the mood of my generation, angry at society.
First time I've listened to Kendrick Lamar. Once I got through the profanity, I got that he was telling a story, laying some strong lyrics over a smooth and funky beat. This album points to the deterioration of race relations that were occurring at the time and also called to mind Public Enemy with its history lessons. It was also a chronicle of Kendrick Lamar's personal journey, overcoming his surroundings and the new temptations accompanying his success and rise to fame.
OK, I get it. He's hyper-depressed and all in his head. The album cover tells the story, as concerned friends look through the haze at him as he fades from existence. Very heavy and challenging. Very different from their pop tunes like Friday I'm in Love or Like Heaven. I guess 'The Cure' was to put all of this melancholy in a record, freeing him to pursue joy on the other side. Thematically (not musically), it reminds me of The Wall, except that that tells a story, whereas this is just a funereal slog, start to finish.
Maybe the launch of pop-punk? Guitars and Billy Joe's vocals suggest punk, but bass makes it fun and very listenable. Familiar tunes that received heavy airplay, but they don't grow old. Each track short and formulaic, as though intended as a single.
Memories of my freshman year of college. Didn't understand the lyrics or appeal then, and 38 years later, the lyrics are mostly as nonsensical now. It's like what I remember college radio being like then, random words and sounds, though the music is more listenable than that was. Too ironic, too cool for me, but some memorable, singalong tunes.
A bizarre soundscape that starts you off wondering what you're listening to and how much longer till it's over, but it pulls you in and leaves you wondering where it went when it's over.
Not for me. Discordant cacophony, mumbled lyrics and no sense of purpose. Experiments with synthesizers, but it's hard to know if they achieved their result because the hypothesis is unguessable.
Like a smoky Brazilian lounge, with a cool cat in a fedora on the sax.
First time listening to a reggae album. Easy, lilting music belies harsh message about slavery, oppression and a longing for Africa. Sparse, repetitive lyrics made most songs like chants.
Familiar music of my youth. Album full of singles with catchy rhythms, guitar, keyboards and Ric Ocasek's distinctive vocals.
How did I miss this?! It came out my final semester of college, and it sounds like something I would have loved to listen to in a college bar. But, with how tight the drums are, they were too good to have played in the places I would have gone. I really liked this!
Smooth, melodic, easy to listen to. Surprised to hear beach music sounds in some tracks.
This was a big waste of my time. No connection, no purpose.
Once I get past the raspy voice, I understand the depth of emotion in the lyrics. The Ballad of Lucy Jordan is good, and the profane rage of the betrayed lover in the final track gives an energy that breaks from the introspection that precedes.
Too long by half, but some good songs toward the end of the second disk that showcase her musical talent and not just power and stretching of vowels. The first disk starts out with an almost gospel sound and moves through stories of love, heartbreak and even overcoming abuse. Through it all, Christina briefly lays out the lyrics then showboats and growls over backup singers repeating the chorus. Side B opens weirdly, with some throwback, raunchy burlesque stuff. Put the final three songs with some from Side A, and that could have been a good album on its own.
Less energy, more bluesy than earlier Doors albums. Only one song, Roadhouse Blues, that I recognized. OK, I guess.
An album I once owned. Still solid. Great debut and maybe still their best. Slash's guitar phenomenal and Axl's vocals still fresh and distinctive.
Lots of rebellion and frustration with convention. The music isn't really my thing, but I can see how it would energize disaffected youth.
Some pop, some disco, some filler to round out an album with timeless hits like One Way or Another and Heart of Glass. This was the first time I'd ever seen the lyrics for Heart of Glass, which I've never understood. Cryptic lyrics in some other songs.
I had very little exposure to the Smiths and found them moody and whiny, so this album by their lead singer totally shattered my expectations. It's actually very listenable and solid throughout. Surprises like this make me glad for this service!
I had to go to YouTube to hear this, and I'm glad I did. He was earnest and commanding, even though his singing wasn't great. The spoken word stuff was on point.
Not an easy listen for the most part. Heart Shaped Box (that's about my...Courtney Love is rumored to have said) and All Apologies are familiar, but the rest feels like a noisy rebuke of Nevermind and the accompanying fame that tortured Kurt Cobain. Rape Me, with its Smells Like Teen Spirit Hooks, underlines the point.
I was expecting pop nostalgia, but this was more. I heard influences of girl groups as well as a soulfulness of an Adele precursor--without the vocal range, of course, but packing some power--and she put her own twist on lighter tunes. Very heartfelt.
This was solid. Mysticism and a search for meaning translated through a slide guitar. Everybody knows My Sweet Lord, but What Is Life and the title track are also very good. I know it's a double album, but it got really long, especially with the last four tracks, which are just instrumental jam sessions.
Springsteen was a hit machine with this album, which addressed the struggles of the working man and social and economic decay.
Some familiar tunes, some not, but the unmistakable Clapton guitar makes this timeless.
Even though I skipped quickly to the end of tracks that I felt were going nowhere, I regret that I will never get that time back.
An easy listen, although I didn't understand the lyrics. Very soothing.
I've never considered myself a fan of EDM, but this is pretty good. The layering of sounds and the placement and repetition of soundbites put some meat on those electronic bones.
This was a pleasant surprise, as I had listened to Music from Big Pink before and was only familiar with Up on Cripple Creek from this album, leading me to believe it would be a twangy slog. Instead, I found excellent storytelling and nice, varied sounds.
Might have meant something to someone familiar with Blaxploitation, but not for me.
Sharp lyrics, distinctive voice. Good listen. Alison is the standout track, and it's interesting to learn that it's not a love song as much as a song of pity and regret for unrequited love.
Upbeat tunes with dark humor and morbid lyrics. Interesting.
Not my thing. Sunday morning jazz brunch material in spots, folksy but not memorable in others. This group had one hit, and it wasn't on this album.
Blister in the Sun has long been a favorite, but it's interesting how this album tells a story of teen desire, angst and fear of rejection that is so relatable, looking back.
Neil Young is not really my thing, but I appreciated the guitar and general instrumentation of Crazy Horse, and I respected Young's earnest and earthy lyrics. Cinnamon Girl is the only song I recognized, and it's really the only memorable track among the seven.
I had often heard of but never heard Liz Phair. Her voice isn't perfect but it is a perfect fit for her lyrics, raw and powerful. I listened to this one three times, trying to get the feeling and meaning, and it was worthwhile.
Smooth and easy to listen to, though the songs got long toward the end.
I feel almost unqualified to rate a legend, knowing what great things she had coming. I heard elements of mountain music, gospel and the steel guitar that makes it classic country, with the storytelling that makes it classic Dolly, but nothing stands out as much as the title track.
No thanks for the aural assault. Punk voices and twangy guitars with some weird attempt at melody. If these guys helped bridge punk and alternative, then it's a case of the legacy outpacing the reality.
Generally, I like Steely Dan, but this one's kinda meh. Reelin' in the Years and Do It Again (and maybe Dirty Work) rightfully receive most of the airplay on classic rock stations, because the others just don't hit.
Unique sound. Bluesy hip hop, free-flowing funny lyrics or spoken words that seem to tumble out of G.Love's mouth. Funky bass. Hollow sound like sitting in on a jam session. Authentic day-in-the-life Philly references.
Stevie is a musical genius! Smooth, funky, catchy, fun and easy to listen to, with relevant, timely (and timeless) lyrics.
Not my thing, but I heard elements of classic country. Maybe even Hank Williams. I also had a sense of everyman hardships, a la Springsteen or John Mellencamp. Not a lot of range, though, musically or lyrically.
Don't see the appeal. Logorrhea for lyrics, subpar singing, mystery meat music. The few tunes I found catchy got sidetracked by at least one of these things.
Quirky but listenable. Strange fascination with death later in the album. Still, good structure to the songs.
Unique. Interesting wordplay, reminding me of Beastie Boys and Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, with brash delivery and biting commentary, also with NYC references of the day.
I owned this album, so it was very familiar to me. I was into Public Enemy at the time, fresh out of college, and shared the anger of my generation at how screwed up the world had become, so I certainly understood the anger that permeated most of Ice-T’s tracks, even if I had little understanding of the gang violence and drug culture of South Central and Compton (NWA and Ice Cube were also hitting it big at the time). I shared Ice-T’s frustration with the powers-that-be and, like him, wanted nothing to do with the emerging Gulf War. The lyrics are profane, but the samples and tunes are solid.
No denying that Seattle sound, somewhere between garage rock and grunge. Some songs sound Nirvana-esque, with mumbled and shouted lyrics over distorted guitars and feedback. Let It Slide and Good Enough are favorites, early in the album, but some of the others don't hit.
This is one of my favorite rock albums of all time, and I'm thankful for 1984—the album and the biggest year in my musical upbringing—which introduced me to Van Halen. I wasn't old enough, or musically mature enough, to appreciate the first Van Halen album, which was given to me but stowed away in my dresser for years. I surely missed out on the genius of Eddie Van Halen and wild-man antics of David Lee Roth, but I'm glad to make up for lost time every time I listen, and this is one I'll listen to over and over.
Distinctive. Songs we all know. Voice and delivery the same throughout. Poetic lyrics.
Timeless, fun and solid. AC/DC seldom disappoints.
Heavy airplay on classic rock stations, but it's decent music. Memorable songs that aren't quite annoying enough to be called earworms. Short album, at only 34 minutes total, but it packs a punch.
That was weird. Heavy subject matter expressed through airy, distant vocals that are incongruous with the music. But then, I came to understand that it was intentional. The album is an artsy lament about the horrors of World War I in the trenches of Gallipoli and a cry against English pride and nationalism and the tendency to romanticize war in the aftermath of victory. It's not an easy listen.
This one tried to throw me off musically and lyrically. Either one, taken by itself, makes no sense, and though they complement each other, there's no synergy—they don't produce something better. Experimental for experimentation's sake. Noise.
After the bizarre first half of a very long title track to kick off the album, I didn't have high hopes. The theme changed over the course, but the cryptic lyrics puzzled me. Very much about mortality, which makes sense since Bowie was near the end of his life. The saxophone was nice, and there were many musical layers, but this was a difficult listen. The last track, "I Can't Give Everything Away," speaks to the mystery of the album. If Bowie had played in the NFL, it would have been interesting to dissect his brain for something akin to CTE, because I just don't get what made him tick.
Soundtrack to a Renaissance Faire? Why is this on the list?
This is a weird dude, but it's clear that that's his intention. I don't think he takes himself too seriously, and his songs are like a carnival sideshow or a silly kind of shock (necromancy, really?), although some of the music is decent. No More Mr. Nice Guy is a keeper. 2.5 stars seem about right.
I’m continually amazed at how this list keeps revealing corners of music I’ve never explored. Solo, improvisational piano—especially in a cavernous concert hall—is entirely new territory for me. With jazz, I’ve always wondered: how do they know when a piece is finished? In a band, each instrument tosses out ideas that others catch, expand, and return. Here, it’s one man alone, following the pathways of his own imagination.
Keith Jarrett moves, within the same track, between passages that are cool and meditative and others that are tense and unsettled. What fascinates me most is that even his devoted audience seems to share my uncertainty—hesitant bursts of applause break out before full ovations, as if no one is entirely sure when a section ends.
I can’t say I was swept away; for me, this was more of an endurance test than a revelation. But I can appreciate the artistry, the risk, and the sheer audacity of letting a performance unfold without a net.
Upbeat, bouncy, classic disco.
This is classic Springsteen — an album about loss, redemption, reconciliation, faith and the search for meaning. Without context, it can feel a heavy and uneven, with only a few standout tracks like the title song and My City of Ruins. But once you consider when it was released—in the shadow of 9/11—it takes on a whole new weight. It becomes cathartic, a reflection of the national mood and a testament to resilience. It may not be packed with hits, but it’s an important work, exactly what we needed at the time. I mourn the tragedy that inspired it, but I long for the sense of common humanity and rising above that we experienced then as a nation.
The long intro of the opening track made me think this was going to be a straightforward EDM album, so it was surprising to hear those pulsing electronic sounds paired with an off-key, almost vulnerable voice. The repetition in later tracks—both musically and lyrically—feels excessive, but Someone Great and All My Friends point toward something deeper: a sense of loss and longing for times and people gone. Sound of Silver builds on that emotion—cowbell and all—while the closing track, New York, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down, starts as satire and ends as a moving search for belonging and meaning.
Very smooth and easy to listen to. Surprised she never pursued a solo career. Soulful and literate, mixing sounds and rhythms effortlessly.
I was reminded of how I listened to this song on repeat in my dorm room my freshman year of college. Though I haven't listened too often since, I'm struck by how good it remains. Big sound, singable lyrics that have reawakened the earworms.
Cover songs in Willie's unique style. Ok.
So much repetition—sampled vocals spin in endless loops like mantras while the techno beats are more for the dance floor rather than for listening depth. Most tracks slip into monotony, and I confess that I had to stop halfway through several. If Things Were Perfect is a rare highlight, with steady bass and reflective lyrics (I don't like the cold, either). By the closing tracks, though, the album’s energy has largely evaporated.
Reggae mixed with other genres. Listenable on a drive.
I found this easy to listen to while working. It was propulsive without being repulsive, so it kept me going through the workday.
This is not an easy listen. She seems to be trying to sing poorly, widely varying her pitch in odd places, slurring words. When I could understand the lyrics, they didn't make sense. Much of the album is spoken word over background music, and it all seems like a dark, twisted poetry slam. I suppose that was her intent, to rebel against standards of music.
I saw Siouxsie and the Banshees at the first Lollapalooza, but back then the only track I really knew was Kiss Them for Me, thanks to MTV overplay. Listening to Juju now, Spellbound hits hard right out of the gate—sharp, urgent, and totally magnetic. After that, though, the album loses steam. The songs start to blur together, carried by the same floaty vocals and increasingly bizarre lyrics. Shrunken heads? Voodoo? The atmosphere is cool at first, but eventually the weirdness feels more like a gimmick than a groove. Juju starts strong but doesn’t stick the landing.
You can hear elements of Pink Floyd, Yes, David Bowie, and even flashes of Rush and Led Zeppelin throughout this album. Given its release date, it’s easy to imagine that King Crimson helped shape each of them in some way. The sound feels both familiar and foundational—like a blueprint that later giants built upon.
This album is over the top and bursting with energy, blending an eclectic mix of sounds with lyrics that must have felt genuinely avant-garde in the early 2000s. Most people will point to the “Comfortably Numb” cover—while I appreciate the creativity, I love the original too much to enjoy this version fully. What really caught me off guard, though, was “Return to Oz,” which feels like it could have fit right into The Dark Side of the Moon with its haunting tone and layered production.
I enjoyed the opening track and found several others catchy, though some songs seem designed more for shock value (“Tits on the Radio,” “Filthy/Gorgeous”). Maybe I’m just too straight to completely get it, but it's equal parts bold and campy. Worth a listen.
Quirky, sometimes silly, but unmistakably original, Cyndi Lauper presents herself—visually and vocally—like a living cartoon, yet her gift for melody is impossible to dismiss. The synth-pop sound and neon look were tailor-made for the dawn of MTV, and her elastic voice, complete with yelps and Brooklyn/Joisey inflections, gives everything from bubblegum pop to tender ballads a distinctive edge. She’s so charismatic, in fact, that she transforms an outright ode to masturbation into a sly, radio-friendly hit.
Sheer Heart Attack plays like a high-energy, guitar-driven rock opera. “Brighton Rock” explodes out of the gate, “Killer Queen” is rightfully legendary, and the album barely pauses for breath in between. There are no real throwaways here—Queen is firing on all cylinders. Honestly, it could have ended perfectly with “Dear Friends,” which feels like a natural curtain-closer. It even would’ve echoed the album cover: the band sprawled out, sweaty, exhausted and triumphant after the performance of a lifetime.
Who was the audience for this album? I can appreciate improvisation and eclecticism, but this was throwing instruments at a wall and seeing what would stick. Hopeful elements, but they were snippets that never went anywhere.
This may be great for fans of its scene, but it’s definitely not my cup of tea. The whole album evokes a dim, strobe-lit European dance floor packed with zoned-out bodies moving in slow, hypnotic waves. It’s all atmosphere and repetition, but nothing that sticks with me or feels memorable.
This was a fascinating listen that I will certainly be returning to. The song structures are solid and create a huge sound that seems best suited for a large arena. The songs are infectious, and it's easy to get lost in the rhythm—I often found my head involuntarily bobbing and foot tapping. Musically and lyrically, the album channel the grandiose scope of U2 and the critical commentary of Springsteen. Strong 4, for sure.
Now I know that there was truly messy, chaotic music at the dawn of the ’70s. Fun House is guttural and unfiltered, full of shrieks, screams, muttered incantations, and riffs that loop until they feel hypnotic. I can hear shades of the Doors, though Iggy Pop is less a singer than a force of nature—rawer, looser, and far less concerned with control than Morrison ever was. The songs aren’t really structured as much as unleashed.
I can imagine this being performed in some grimy, sweaty club where the air is thick and the walls feel like they might collapse. “Down on the Street” starts out with a tight, driving groove, but Iggy’s first scream blows the doors off and lets the chaos spill out. From there, the album grows wilder and more unhinged, and by the time it reaches “L.A. Blues,” it’s dissolved into pure noise—less a song than a primal scream session.
This hits different. Nobody compares to the Queen of Soul.
This album keeps it real, channeling raw emotion and the grind of daily life. Springsteen paints the working man’s fight to hang on—pushing through disappointment, reaching for small moments of joy. It feels like the characters are waking up to the seriousness of adulthood but choosing to persevere, even when the world feels stacked against them. The music is stripped down but powerful, perfectly matching Springsteen’s gritty voice.
My son introduced me to Linkin Park, and now I see what the hype was all about. I loved this!
This was smooth and easy to listen, perfect complement to my workday. The bossa nova rhythm is very catchy.
After the propulsive blast of “Immigrant Song,” Led Zeppelin III reveals a very different band from their first two albums. The blues influence is still strong—right through the unusual closing track—but it’s joined by a newfound embrace of acoustic, folk, and country sounds. Page and Bonham each shine on their respective showcases, while banjo, mandolin and steel guitar broaden the group’s range. The result is an album that expands Zeppelin’s scope beyond hard rock and paves the way for the masterpiece of Led Zeppelin IV.
CrazySexyCool established TLC as the preeminent female R&B group of the ’90s—and arguably one of the greatest of all time. “Creep” and “Waterfalls” retain their power and relevance three decades later, while nearly every track gives space for each member’s distinct personality to emerge. Alongside Salt-N-Pepa and En Vogue, TLC helped bring female R&B fully into the mainstream, reshaping expectations of what women in popular music could sing about and how they could say it, seamlessly blending social awareness with sensuality.
Classic Beatles sound, maybe not the most hit-laden.
Bizarre. It got a little tiring listening to the pouty whining. I saw that each song had an explicit warning, but heard relatively little profanity. Were the labels affixed because of openly gay longing and lust? Anyway, not my favorite.
