Firstly, you can choose to separate the art from the artist or you can choose not to. That’s your choice. I’ll review the album. Not the person. Once you get past the ‘legendary’ name, the music can stand alone and, on its rockabilly roots and caustic attack, it is very strong. The problem with the album is its lack of continuity and Lewis’ stylistic inflexibility when the material requires it. He performs full of energy and passion, which comes out as an explosion, not with control or in measured doses. This is what makes him so great at ehat he does. But it is all that he does. His style is rightfully fierce and historic on “Great Balls of Fire” and “Good Golly, Miss Mollly”. But on a track like, “Your Cheating Heart”, the delivery is terribly misfit to the sentiment of the lyrics and Lewis’ poor attempt at a honeyed tone is abandoned before long. His vocal style is not a good fit for any sort of reflective material or anything approaching a ballad. I mean, why take the sports car to the supermarket? Finally, as an album, this doesn’t work. You feel “in the room” but this is just a guy playing his (and others) hits well, but without any sense of cohesion or reason that these songs should be together. To say this is one of the 1000 best albums is to bow to tradition without really hearing it for what it is. One Line Twitter Review: Your least favorite power punk bands’ favorite rapper.

In the top 3 air guitar albums of all time. Try to listen to it without pretending you can play like Eddie… it’s impossible.

Addiction is bad - it makes you desperate, destructive, leads to an untimely death and robs you of your remarkable potential. Somewhere along the path of ruin, it left this remarkable collection of soulful songs.

Back in the day, me and Tahgs used to go to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet in the Bristol Center Mall. This album is like that buffet - ridiculous quantities of intense, powerful nuggets that are all really delicious even if they basically taste the same. Everything is hardened and crispy, and covered with spicy sauce that will kill you if you have too much in one sitting. You feel amazing when you’re in there, even though you know you shouldn’t really be here … you don’t belong here - you’re far too delicate and don’t really have the fortitude for what is being done to your body. You’re way too soft to exist in this world for more than a short time. As you get deeper and deeper into the album … err… buffet, it all starts to taste the same and you know you’ve had enough, but you’ve paid the entrance fee and you can’t quit now, so you stick with it. Thank God that you do, because dessert is the best part … the last few tracks bring it all together, like that delicious soft serve machine at the make-your-own sundae bar in the back corner. The Buffet in the Bristol Center Mall is long gone, but Wu-Tang is forever. Protect Ya Neck and check you cholesterol.

Anyone who says they love this album is lying. It was made to be hated. It’s noise rock, anti-music, built to be destroyed. It’s music about people on drugs searching for more drugs and Lou Reed and I … we don’t do the same drugs. I’ll never be high enough to get this album. But I like bananas, so there you go.

Didn’t like it then - don’t like it now. Give me a “neighborhood concert” in Central Park over this every day of the week.

The quintessential 70s rock album, ubiquitous and eternal. Was there ever a more appropriately named band and album? Boston … we’re loud and in your face but you know there are better versions out there. This is rock music and it’s good … but as much as it wants to shred, it doesn’t. The songs are ephemeral and sound like what might happen if the Doobie Brothers were on cocaine instead of weed. The tunes are familiar and I know my way around these grooves because I owned a radio for the last 30 years, but it doesn’t leave a memory or any desire to hear more. I mean, how many songs can you name from any other Boston album? Did they even make another one (wait, they made 5 more… wtf?) That said, I look forward to the next time I’ll enjoy one of these songs, probably while waiting for my order at Five Guys or picking up some antifreeze at Auto Zone.

I hope this is the right place to submit an IT ticket? Anyway, love this whole 1001 album generator thing and everything has been going great until today. My “album” was something called “every good boy deserves fudge” by a band called Mudhoney. At first, I was suspicious, given the artwork looks like it was done by a middle schooler, but I gave it a listen. As suspected, it appears like these crafty kids have hacked into your system, and uploaded a recording of one of their garage band rehearsals, replacing your real album. You can tell from the very beginning when you hear them warming up. All of the songs are screamed over instruments that have just been learned, based on the basic notes and melodies that repeat over and over. For a minute, I thought it might be post-punk music, but nope, it’s clearly pre-teens. But, good news! They may not have been fully successful in their hack, because it looks like one song from the real album, into the drink, is still there. They missed that one but I think they got all the rest. Please take a look and reset the servers or whatever you have to do. Just send a reply when everything is up and running again. Hope this info helps. Keep up the great work. Looking forward to tomorrow’s album. Thanks!

I spent a lot of time with the early U2 albums when I was younger. War shows the promise of greatness that the band would later find but also clear evidence of their greatest faults: the inability to know when to enough is enough and their undeniable love of themselves in the music. On tracks like Sunday, New Years, Two Hearts and 40, you hear the evocative lyrics supported by powerful yet simple compositions, a formula they would perfect on The Joshua Tree and Rattle and Hum (both significantly better and more successful albums). But you also hear the indulgent, unedited bullshit that plagued Zooropa and Atomic Bomb all over songs like Red Light and The Refugee (which I swear must be a Bow Wow Wow song). Some of this bravado can be written off to 1983, but these guys were aficionados of the style and carried it far into their future. Stick with the singles on this one.

Frampton comes alive … Dutch Point falls asleep. Muffy, wake me when this noisy yacht rock docks in Cos Cob harbor….

Do we have albums like this because everyone was on drugs in the 60s … or was everyone on drugs in the 60s because we have albums like this? I’m pretty sure if you play “Sold to the Highest Bidder” backwards, it will open a direct portal to hell.

It’s folksy, with some interesting rock-tinged tracks sprinkled amid the less successful dirges and art songs. Ultimately a miss, but with much more listenable moments than I expected. Matty Groves slaps!

The compositions and instrumentals are amazing. But these guys can’t write lyrics or sing. They are band geeks who never got past that. Care to disagree? “East St. Louis Toodle-Oo”. Now, shut the fuck up. Hey Steely Dan, me and Geddy Lee, Thomas Dolby, Ben Folds and the guys from Weezer are gonna steal a case of Miller Lites from Cumberland Farms and go to the football game later. Wanna skip band practice and come? Nah, I didn’t think so.

This is way too much and all at once. What exactly was stripped… other than her cover photo? They say a true artist knows what to leave out … well, not the case here. The majority of the album is vocal cacophony and over-mixing, although the slower songs are more enjoyable. And there’s just no excuse for 20 tracks at all. Ever. Like in the whole career. Looks like she needed that producer she fired on this one, after all. But, good news, she is beautiful no matter what I say because my words can’t bring her down.

I hope this sounds better in German…

This is typical 90s indie rock that doesn’t really go anywhere. Highlights like Bittersweet, Sonnet and The Drugs Don’t Work show the best tendencies of the band’s sound, but this album drones on and on and never really hits the level of those tracks again. This album would be better if it was 25 minutes shorter and the band had never listened to a Beatles album, as it seems they are trying to re-create a dreamy, ethereal quality reminiscent of the Liverpudlians’ best work. But all of their music is, ultimately, derivative of something, whether directly or stylistically and, therefore, forgettable.

Harris’ powerful voice is the feature of this album: hauntingly melodic or remarkably intense. It’s an epic vocal display, one that rightly lead to a legendary career. The actual material, almost exclusively covers of country standards, is where my appreciation ends. The straightforward nature of traditional country music, the lack of lyrical nuance and the ceaseless use of repetition that hallmarks the style betray the subtleties and variety that Harris is capable of and should be delivering. Personally, I wish she had leaned much more into her folk tendencies on this album and less into the country styles that she did. But I’m just an anonymous guy with enough free time to review 1001 albums for fun, so wtf do I know?

An important album stylistically, though admittedly not his best. Arriving between the peak of the punk movement of the 70s and New Wave that is about to burgeon in the 80s, Armed Forces presages the trends and sounds that would dominate the next decade. Costello seemlessly moves from style to style, hitting the early alternative notes of Green Shirt, the pop-rock ballad of Big Boys and the hard rock style of Goon Squad with ease. His voice is not the most tuneful or melodic you’ve ever heard, but the delivery is so filled conviction and passion, it works. And he writes great songs, lyrically and musically, even if both are a bit quirky. He doesn’t sound like anyone or anything else out there and that is what makes him so iconic. There are better albums that show the depth of his work and more growth and maturity, but this early stuff is still a pretty engaging listen.

A near-perfect Latin Jazz album. Drop off Holiday and Tururato and you’ve got a winner on every track. Incredible musicianship throughout. And I hate jazz.

Rob: Hey man, let’s put this album in the book. Tony: Another Elvis Costello album? C’mon mate. That makes 5 now. Have you ever even listened to this one? Rob: No, but the publisher says we will never sell a book called 278 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die! So we need a thousand. Just put it in and quit bitchin’. Tony: Why a thousand? Why not 500? Rob: More albums means more pages and more pages means we can charge more money. Stop arguing or we’ll never finish this list. This will take forever if we think about every album we put on it. Just add that Elvis record. Tony: Ok, but what if someone actually listens to it? Won’t they know we just put it on the list to reach a thousand? Rob: You’re a full-on wanker, then, huh? Are you daft? Who the hell would ever listen to all these albums? We’re writing a book, Tony, a book. You read books, Tony, you don’t listen to them. Tony: Yeah, I guess you’re right. Rob: Plus, they don’t read the book before they buy it. By the time they read this, we’ll already have their money. Tony: Yeah, you’re right, mate. I’ll put all those Nico albums back on the list then. Rob: Plus, if anybody asks, we can say it had Pump it Up on it. That’s a great song. People will believe that. Tony: Yeah, I guess, and I sort of liked Radio, Radio, too … and maybe even I Don’t Want to Go Back to Chelsea. Rob: Whatever, brov, we just need to reach a thousand. So put this on the list and keep thinking… what comes after Costello? Tony: Um … Counting Crows. Rob: Nope, no one would believe that one! [They laugh as the lights fade]

This is the soundtrack to the perfect unreleased 1980s movie. It has both kinds of 80s movie songs: 1) the kind that plays in the background while the girl, a social misfit who would be cute if she styled her hair differently, who had her heart broken cries alone in her room and 2) the kind that plays in the background while the bad boy drives around in his car after breaking something, like a window or a guy’s arm or that misfit girl’s heart. There’s also some bonus tracks for when the bad boy drops into a bar to drink his troubles away and a shitty band is playing some indecipherable song in the background included at the end of the album. God, this would be a great 80s movie. Too bad it’s just a terrible album.

A good blues album that turned into rockabilly. Elvis’ vocal tone is super weird on lots of these covered (read as stolen) songs. Nice to hear some simplicity in the phrasing and styles before he gets high on his own supply. As a person, Elvis sucks. But I try to review the album not the artist.