Heard it. I first listened to this in it's entity when I was working at a gas station in Fargo, North Dakota. My coworker alternated between this record and Morphine!
A mood.
It’s a classic for a reason.
The ultimate rainy day album. This feels like such a bridge between hard bop and swing of the 40s and early 50s and what was to come in the world of jazz in just a few short years. Miles was always Miles ahead.
Despite being ubiquitous throughout my childhood and teens age years, the only U2 album I’ve ever listened to all the way through was Rattle and Hum. But this album? Aside from the singles (well, some of them anyway), it’s straight trash.
Smooth. Sounds impeccable. Musicianship is superb. Regardless, they’re just not my thing. Not a bad listen, though.
I’ve always danced around an appreciation for Bruce. The 80s pastiche and studio sounds always kept me at arm’s length. Growing up in a grunge world, all that saxophone and gloss just sounded awful. But the message and the heart behind his music came through loud and clear. It’s hard not to appreciate a guy who worked his way to the top. I never listened to this when it came out. Enjoying it well enough.
This is so far beyond my usual sphere of listening, but goddamn if it isn't amazing. The complex rhythms and effusive joy are infectious.
A journey. I heard so many echoes of elements from bands I love, like Wilco, LCD Soundsystem, and many others. The back half of the album would’ve lost me (and still almost did) had I not been listening while on a bike ride. The groove put me in a great state for just turning my brain off and giving in to the moment.
Dire Straits is one of those bands that I’ve always been able to appreciate as very talented and accomplished musicians, especially Mark Knopfler. Their songs, specifically the ones on this album, all sound great and out of time, especially for the year it was released. Still, it kinda floats above me as a listener. I can reach out and touch it, but can’t pull it close. That detachment keeps me from fully immersing myself.
I’ve finally listened to one of those albums with the scary (but very fuckin’ cool) ghoul on the cover! Hell yeah!!
I get it. The promise of this band pitted against the tragic death of lead singer Ian Curtis has elevated their albums to pillars of gothic and post-punk scenes. The songs are sparse, haunting, filled with dread and unease. On a rainier, gloomier day this might be perfect.
A whole mood.
Unlistenable after 1999
Stunningly modern for a record released 46 years ago. Hynde was way ahead of her time.
I was a college radio DJ when this album was released. We played the hell out of 'Why Does it Always Rain on Me.' Elements of this record sound reminiscent of later Scottish bands like Frightened Rabbit and We Were Promised Jetpacks, but with a softer, more Brit-pop adjacent sound.
I had never heard this album. I'd heard OF it, of course. From the time I was old enough to have any pop culture awareness, it was thrown in my face as the pinnacle of live rock excess. The suburban cul de sac of wah pedals and extended guitar solos. So hearing it for the first time was revelatory. I can barely tell you what any of the songs were about, or what their individual titles are. But the sound quality, the performance, the showmanship - it's all there to be appreciated.
Oh lord, it’s my early teens coming back to haunt me! This album was so ubiquitous in the mid-90s that even a grunge-addled rural kid like me couldn’t avoid it. And guess what? It still, as the kids say, slaps.
Baroque indie pop was always such a fraught genre. For every masterpiece, there were ten insufferably self-important, navel-gaving, interminable slog-fests. For me, Grizzly Bear always fit into that latter category. I didn’t get the hype. I still don’t. Two Weeks still shimmers with that late-2000s gleam. You can almost hear the first year of the Obama Presidency in its notes. Before ‘stomp clap hey’ became the crossover sound that soundtracked a thousand credit card and automobile commercials, we had this clogging the airwaves.
Everything else aside, I miss Bon Scott.
I get the allure of Iggy Pop. The iconoclasm of his whole 'thing' is almost uniformly revered amongst groups of certain musical tastes. Iggy shirtless on stage is everywhere. Musically, though, I never really got onboard. There are gems there. But his music always felt more tied to a time and place that I was not a party to.