1001 Albums Summary

Buckley was an excellent vocalist, but his taste in shapeless, melody-free, plinky-plonk hippy jazz to sing over has not aged well. Buzzin' Fly and Gypsy Woman are worthwhile.

There's some absolute bangers on here, particularly High Plains Drifter and Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun. But however inventive and adventurous the boys' sampling might be, hip-hop of this era has a tendency to sound rather "flat" to me, lacking the richer and more melodic basslines and samples that evolved later in the genre.

Never entirely understood the worship for this as some kind of ground-breaking new sound: nihilistic guitar rock has been around since the Velvet Underground. But that doesn't mean it's not a great album. It updates the sound and lyrics for the 90s generation, there's relatively little filler until late in the album (stay away from "stay away"), and the opening 1-2-3 salvo are all stone classics.

First album on this odyssey that is entirely new to me. It's also entirely forgettable. I mean it's fine, I have no particular objections, but no particular desire to ever hear it again. It's kind of prog-adjacent but far less interesting and saddled with that horrible tinny guitar effect that was popular with soft rock bands in the 80s.

Was only familiar with the singles from this record, and I was pleasently surprised by how good - better in some cases - the rest of the album is. It's a great balance of pop and rock sensibilities and the whole thing is worth a listen, although whether it's worth revisiting often is a different question as it's a bit lightweight.

Robbins has a glorious voice and his enthusiasm for the material is catching, but I'm sorry this just isn't for me. As enjoyable as the narratives are, I can't beyond the ballroom style melodies and hyper-American subject matter.

Blues songs can sound a bit samey, but that's of little consequence when the sound is as powerful as this. There's phenomenal energy in this performance which almost compels you to listen and get swept up alongside the crowd's evident and raucous delight.

It's a solid album which turns out to have a much better range than the initial metal ripoffs without the melodies. There's a couple of standout tracks, but it just doesn't excite me much, it's a very sludgey sound, lacking much in the way of hooks or riffs and the vocals set so far down in the mix as to be incomprehensible.

Doesn't get much more middle of the road than this: it's even a mid point between glam and metal, lacking the swagger of either. There's some solid guitar work though and, at their best, a hint of actual rock attitude: the last three tracks are the best. Passable background music, nothing more.

Even as a response to 9/11, the music and lyrics on this feel overly cheesy and sentimental. On some tracks, Springsteen has the oomph and gravitas to make them anthemic nevertheless. When he can't, the results are flat-out terrible, making this an album of extremes.

This is an example of where this delightful odyssey can fall down: I didn't like this much on the first spin. But snippets of it stayed with me, so I gave it another try and ended up really enjoying it. Although it's not quite as daring as it clearly thinks it is - it's riffing hard on The Beatles and some other hippy 60s artists - the orchestral arrangements are lush and the whole is delightfully invigorating and uplifting. There's a lot of whimsy, however, and some of the tracks do tip over into eye-rolling territory.

If I'm honest, REM are a singles band for me. There are a couple of great tracks on here but while the rest is fine, I could leave it. I recognise there's some interesting stuff going on, walking an experimental line without being weird or atonal, but it just doesn't grab me that hard.

Entirely new to me. Love the varied textures and tempos of this, so many different instruments and sounds bubbling underneath the guitars, and the way the mood swings effortlessly from misery to delight. It's a whole album listen: individual tracks just don't work as well. Not sure about the vocals.

All the considerable vocal talent on display here cannot compensate for the terrible material. Trite lyrics, shallow emoting and predictable melodies: everything that gives country music a bad name. Looking at the selection criteria for the 1001 list, I do not understand how this derivative garbage fulfils any of them to earn its place.

This feels a strange album to pick to represent British reggae. Steel Pulse are arguably a better band, and UB40, arguably, have better albums. But it's still a decent listen. The rhythm section kicks hard, although the lyrics are repetitive and the occasional bontempi keyboards are unwise: it feels more like a dub plate than a regular reggae album in some respects, especially with several instrumentals thrown in. For all the sultry pleasures, however, nothing really stands out from the crowd as particularly enjoyable.

One of the top reviews asks why U2 became such a hated band, and I think I know the answer: rarely has there been such a clear-cut example of a once-great band selling out, and this album is the moment it happened. In fact, I think you can pinpoint the very moment it happens: it's when the soulful trumpets kick in during Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of. Try to imagine soulful trumpets amongst the righteous angst of War, or the raw beauty of The Joshua Tree, and you'll get what I mean. There are flashes of the old fire in Beautiful Day and Elevation but that's about it. A sad day for rock music, and a weird inclusion on the list.

New to me. Yes, really. The fact this is the top selling album of all time says more to me about how bad people's taste was in the 80s that it does about this record. The cheap synths. The cringey lyrics. Most of the tracks can't even muster much in the way of a worthwhile groove, although the three big singles in the midde are admittedly an exception.

Very pleasant, lazy, tropical jazz sound. Laid back, varied and atmospheric. Fantastic background track to an afternoon in the sun with a cocktail, but not something I'd necessarily want to sit and listen to for an extended period. Especially the last few tracks, which take a bit of a nosedive.

The reviews writing this off as boring Britpop don't seem to have listened to the lyrics, which are full of politics, metaphor, and righteous fire. Sadly the same can't be said of the rather dull stadium-rock arrangements that accompany them. The album sounds at its best when the band forgo that style in favour of a harder sound, like Enola / Alone.

Side A of this is too chirpy and upbeat and harmonic for me to hate it completely despite the shallow, misogynistic, repetitive lyrics. Side B, however, has the same kind of material set to ballads and it's so unforgivably bad that it cancels out any kind of merit that album might otherwise muster.

This album's chief sin is filler: it's 18 tracks long and some of them feel very unnecessary. When you cut a bit of fat, however, there's plenty of absolute bangers left to enjoy, huge beats overdubbed with funky, jazzy samples and smart, emotive raps.

Was really gearing up to hate on this, but I just can't. It's too smooth and mellow and satisfying, and Green it too talented a vocalist (albeit also a piece of shit human being) to just bin it. Doesn't mean I have any desire to hear it again, however.

Great voice, singing an almost nauseatingly inoffensive album of cover versions.

Enjoyable proto-grunge that's a lot funkier, and a lot more fun, than much of the po-faced music it inspired. Some clear nods to the blues that sits at the root of its musical family tree, and a bit of Beefheart too, I think?

Sounds ahead of its time: I initially assumed this was a mid-80s album, not mid-70s, so I presume the effects and production on it were fairly pioneering and influential. The result is a very mixed bag, however: while there are a couple of standout tracks, particularly the dreamy closer Small Hours, far too much of it is inflated with that puffy self-importance that boring jazz assumes when it thinks it's being all cool and experimental.

It's amazing to think this passed as cutting edge in 1989, and there's no denying its influence on 90s metal. Not to say it's bad at all - it's a solid slab of heavy rock with a bit of a groovy edge in which no tracks really stand out as especially good or bad - just that adding a bit of slap bass to metal isn't really all that big of an imaginative leap. It's also kind of telling that the best track on the reissue is a Black Sabbath cover version.

I find punk a bit too slapdash and raw for my taste, but this is excellent: it's got the energy and attitude of punk together with some really great guitar licks and rhythms. I forget sometimes that the US garage rock that inspired punk is musically much more accomplished.

Big beats, big attitude and not much else. The pulsing rhythms initially sound really funky but the sparse, simple mixes lack variety and get repetitive by the end of each track. There's no denying the huge impact of this record but it's later followers put a sinister spin on the sampling that suits the subjects of the rap: however authentic, the violence and sexism on display here is not only unpleasant but jars badly with the cheery tone of the backing tracks.

It's pleasant enough, and the playing is obviously of virtuoso quality, but I'm afraid I found this largely rather dull. I don't know anything about modes or music theory and all I heard were a succession of instruments repeating scale themes, over a rhythm section that repeats scale themes. It's impressive this was largely improvised, but without anything that really challenges or excites, it's an empty excercise in showcasing musical skill for its own sake.

I loved this album as a teenager, so it's kind of hard to be objective, but it feels like it still holds up pretty well. The unlikely alliance of stadium rock and goth sensibilities results in a pleasing mix of absolute bangers and slower mood pieces and, despite a few cringey synth lines, there's relatively little filler here: the two "Flood" tracks are the weakest entries. A lot of it has to do with Eldritch's inscrutably intellectual lyrics and deadpan baritone delivery. Surprised this is on the list ahead of the slightly better, more cohesive, and arguably more influential First and Last and Always, but this was undoubtedly the more popular record.

This is one of those albums where understanding the context is important: it was recorded days before Cohen's death, and the lyrics and themes reflect that. Cohen was originally an author and he's always penned amongst the most poetic lyrics in popular music. While this is no exception, the accompanying sparse arrangements and gravelly spoken vocals don't do the material justice.

There are times when it's very hard to distinguish bold, experimental music from random, jarring noise. This is one such record and I think ... I think I'm just about erring on the side of bold and experimental. There's an interesting slew of different styles and concepts underneath the sludge here, but a substantial portion of the tracks don't feel worth returning to.

A lovely collection of folk-pop melodies, with lyrics that range from the hallucinatory to profound meditations on aging, spirituality and inter-generational conflict that still resonate all these decades after the record was released. While I'm not surprised to find this on the 1001 list, I do find it bizarre it's not alongside Teaser and the Firecat by the same artist.

Never heard this before, but I choogled it right on up into my choogler and found it delivered a very pleasing choogle.

I was anxious about rating this because of the whole separating the art from the artist thing. Turns out I needn't have worried as it's just a bad album. The Smiths worked in part because of the jarring counterpoint between Marr's cheerfully brilliant guitar riffs and Morrisey's miserable moaning: without Marr, it's just moaning. And in terms of Morrisey's later political persona it's already right here, singing how "we are the last truly British people you will ever know" directly before a song about the National Front, and asking us to believe that, really, it is condemning fascism, honest guv.

My heart goes out to the wonderfully talented Ella Fitzgerald for having to sing four entire discs of this absolute shite. I couldn't even make it through the first one. It's listenable enough as background music but the sheer scale of this collection works against it: I cannot concieve of why you'd want three plus hours of showtunes.

Punk as a genre has really grown on me since I was a teenager, but I remain suspicious of the Sex Pistols, who've always struck me as style over substance. The same three chords over and over, with childishly "shocking" lyrics over the top. But the raw energy of the record is compelling, it's clearly a political and musical landmark, and a few of the songs have some genuinely great guitar riffs.

I'm sorry Paul, but the saxophones were a terrible mistake. It's pleasant enough listening but, were it not for McCartney's name on the front, I'd have trouble distinguishing this from any other run of the mill 70's pop band.

This is a really great two-hander, with Young's haunting, perhaps overly-sentimental acoustic folk on one side, and some fantastic driving rock with a full band on the other. His vocals are an acquired taste, but the lyrics and arrangements are superb, impactful and influential.

The title track is an undeniable pop classic and still sounds fresh today. The rest of the record, not so much. It's mostly vapid filler although it's generally groovy, and occasional number rises above the tedium. Spanish Eyes, with its moving lyrics on a taboo subject, is probably the best of them.

I generally prefer acoustic Dylan over electric Dylan but this, where he's transitioning between the two, has him at the very height of his creative powers. It's an astonishing set, full of groovy blues, cryptic ballads, psychedelic comedy and forceful protests.

Didn't have high hopes for this but it's ... fine, actually? There's something about the earnest soulfulness and the bouncy tunes that put it a cut above most pre-60s records. It just sounds like a bunch of musicians having a good time: I can hear why and how this became so influential.

Dull, derivative, tuneless metal. Metal can be many things, but the most unforgivable sin is for it to be boring, which this mostly is. "Rooster" and "Would" offer some brief relief from the tedium late in the record.

Not something I'd revisit regularly, but this is a kind of jazz I can appreciate: comfortable and satisfying with a twinge of pleasant nostalgia. Vaughn's vocals are sublime and the warts and all nature of this live recording adds to the charm.

Self-conciously artsy pop like this is going to be divisive, but while it might be a bit too out-there for the top marks, it mostly works for me. It's refreshing to hear something so unusual, so obviously the product of a cohesive vision. And I don't really get the hate: sure, the lyrics are weird and the sudden shifts in time signatures can be jarring but the actual melodies that form the backbones of these songs are delightful: funky, stirring and punctuated by lush string arrangements.

A lovely, fascinating album, full of delightfully cryptic lyrics and varied textures. Bjork seems to have forgotten to add melodies which I understand is part of her objective but they're missed, nevertheless.

Cooper is a dreadful, sexist, lyricist and a weak singer but the music here is actually pretty great. The soft rock base veers off in all kinds of fun, unexpected, genre-bending directions with frequest flourishes of prog grandeur.

As a teen, when this came out, I never got on with the discordant guitars, shouty lyrics and weird themes. Nowadays, I find that all a very refreshing change from boring, identikit alt-rock, although this, their debut, is a still a bit too rough around the edges. Did not expect to learn that sample on Spooky's Gargantuan is taken from this record.

I would like to thank the 1001 albums generator for introducing me to a genuinely new experience: actively liking a soul album. It's a genre I've loathed my whole life, repelled by its inspid subject choices and flat rhythms. This is the opposite, a personal and political concept album that lays down some classic grooves beneath the swelling strings and soulful vocals.

An odd pick to represent QotSA over their better, later albums. But if you pick out the overly-repetitive filler there's some great stuff here, intensely thrumming rock and hallucinogenic lyrics powered by the driving beats.

The wikipedia page talks about the "mixture of genres and influences" and this sounds like it has *all* the genres and influences, thrown into a bag and pulled out at random on every bar. Occasionally, this works. More often, it's a mess, with amateurish recording and an unfortunate fondness for dull balladry, and one that goes on far too long.

This is a worthwhile album from a historical perspective. Given that it's from 1965, an era dominated by innocent rock n' roll and blues covers, parts of it are extraordinarily abrasive, setting a template for metal, punk ... possibly even the Velvet Underground. As a record in its own right, it's less compelling in the modern age. There are a few standout tracks but stylistically it's all over the place, and some of the material is pretty cringeworthy.

In turning to straight blues, The Doors forgot what made them interesting. The first four tracks rock pretty hard, and Peace Frog in particular has flashes of Morrison's sinister weirdness, but the remainder are fairly forgettable.

Delightfully angry punk, anchored firmly in its place and time, but sounds dated nowadays with the grating "singing" and limited repertoire of melodies. A few bangers toward the end of the album, particularly the Police & Thieves cover.

Possibly the most 3* album I've heard so far. Technically competent, eminently listenable 90s punk that's almost entirety devoid of personality or particular interest. It's fine, but really not something you need to hear before you pass from this world.

Had no idea this style of rap was still extant in 2005, like old fashioned hip-hop had evolved free of the ravaging influence of Gangsta. It's kind of refreshing, but the trouble is it's just ... not very interesting. A lot of the mixing is very repetitive, and doesn't even manage to build a particularly compelling groove. Q-tip's raps are better but without the foundation of great production they get lost too easily.

A few tracks tip dangerously close towards countrified schmaltz, but for the most part this is a compelling mix of soul-searching acoustics and righteously angry rock. Young is an outstanding lyricist and songwriter even if his vocals are an acquired taste. He's my biggest "discovery" of this tour so far.

This is my favourite Pixies best, substantially more melodic and slightly less freakish than their other efforts, while still retaining easily enough of their trademark weirdness in both music and lyrics to keep it fresh and interesting.

Maybe it's not aged well, but I can't hate this, it's just too funky and, occasionally, funny. There are a few genuine bangers here, in truth mixed up with a regrettable amount of filler, but bangers nevertheless. A thought for those asking, quite reasonably, why this solidly mediocre album is on the list: it may be representitive of a certain cool-comedy-crime cultural zeitgeist that was prominent in the mid-90s. It came from Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie and had fingerprints all over the film & TV of the era but this is perhaps the only real musical spin-off. Maybe that's why.

This is an awkward one to rate. There's a lot to enjoy here, the core of psychadelic rock goes voyaging through a wide variety of unexpected genre influences, and some of the improvisation is pretty spectacular. But, ultimately, can I imagine myself sitting down and *listening* to this, hardcore, for the full length of a double album? And the answer is no, not really.

Every track after 20 seconds: hell yeah! get down! Every track after 1 minute: it's kinda boring now, actually.

The late 80s wasn't the finest hour for rock music, and then this gem appears created, somehow, by a group of averagely talented musicians. But despite the technical limitations the songwriting and production soars, effortlessly blending bits of different decades, genres, and moods while still remaining definitively 80s and defintively Stone Roses.

There's a pleasingly intimate air to this, and some genuinely good tracks on side 2, but for the most part it feels like a might have been, a collection of unfocused musical ideas that needed more development and coherence. It's still better than most of McCartney's work with Wings. I'm glad I heard it though. I learned this was a landmark record that essentially heralded the breakup of the Beatles to the world, although Lennon had already jumped ship in private. In the tracks you can heard both McCartney transitioning from his Beatles work to a solo artist, and the transition between the styles of the late 60s and early 70s. So it's kind of an interesting listen, even if it's musically confused.

Really enjoyed the arrangements on this album, a spectacular, atmospheric kalaidescope of traditional folk melodies, medievalism, world music and madcap invention, including the kazoo. The intensely irritating vocals, however, spoil it, tunelessly delivering childish doggrel as though it's profound wisdom, and ignoring folk's long tradition of narrative songwriting.

The first few tracks of this are most middlest of the middle of the road soft rock, before it eventually evolves into something passably interesting. But aside from a few solid tracks in the middle, it never really gets anywhere and feels sprawling, incoherent and bland. There's a passable one-record album that could be culled from this double.

Sounds like Simon & Garfunkel without that duo's ear for a melody, or knack of engaging lyrics, or Art Garfunkel's vocal artistry. Tedious, vapid balladry that mostly sounds the same. Angry, because I was really excited for this and it's actually pretty terrible.

Chiming guitars shimmer over the polyrhythms in a pleasingly different paradigm from western rock. The kind of thing you just let wash over you during a morning's work or a summer afternoon.

Pleasingly odd fusion of rock, rave and disco but these disparate genres just don't gel properly in most of the tracks, failing to find much in the way of melody or rhythm after energetic openings and tailing off into repetition. The inispid vocals don't help.

TIL there are two Fairport albums on the 1001 list and not one by Steeleye Span, which I'm still sore about. But taking this on its merits it's still a very good slice of folk-rock, with nice little flourishes of jazz, even if a couple of the tunes are a bit corny or wishy-washy. A Sailor's Life is absolutely fantastic, one of the best new-to-me tunes on the list so far.

Holy God but I was NOT prepared for quite how hot these rats turned out to be.

It's a solid record, and an important record of 80s suffering, but for the most part the derivative rock and roll tunes don't do much for me, and clash with the album's lyrical tone.

Band writes one good song, somehow gets two entries on the 1001 list, and the good song isn't on this one. Tedious, cookie-cutter soft rock which is doubly unforgivable coming, as it does, from a time when tons of exciting stuff was happening in music, all of which seems to have passed the Eagles by. Train Leaves Here This Morning, in particular, is profoundly terrible.

Some fun wordplay and some funky beats but, for me, hip-hop lives and dies on the production and it's excessively flat and repetitive here.

Pretty cool slice of hip hop, enriched by some really nice production work that makes it feel like the tribe are rapping over live jazz, giving it plenty of great bass beats and plenty of variety.

I like plenty of prog and I get that, in some senses, it's the ultimate genre mashup. But I still feel there need to be guard rails of some sort: coherent themes, hooks or signatures. Yes disagree, and just throw a lot of random noodling into these songs at their whim. The result isn't bad, in fact technically the musicianship is pretty impressive: it's just rather incoherent and confusing.

This was popular in the scenes I was in back in the 90s but I somehow never got around to listening to it. Now, there are a lot of albums about teen angst in the US but the delight of Tigermilk is that it's a very British take on the subject, both lyrically and instrumentally. It's a bit saggy in the middle but the opening and closing sequences are a delight.

Veers so wildly between hard grunge ripoffs and terrible soft rock balladry that listening risks genre whiplash. Sadly, even when the music is worthwhile, it's still very derivative. I'm not even 100 albums in yet and, even as someone who enjoys mediocre white-boy alternative rock, I'm getting the sense there's far too much mediocre white-boy alternative rock for a "must listen" list.

I like a bit of power pop, especially when I'm running. Modern pop is surprisingly clever and self-aware, not to mention full of banging production. So I tried to be open minded about this but Christina Aguilera is none of those things. These tracks are flaccid, boring drones accompanied by witless, saccharin lyrics and neither hold any originality or interest. Putting out an entire double album of this weaksauce is borderline insulting.

I'm sorry, Cyndi. No matter how great a vocalist you are, and no matter how cleverly you put a feminist spin on cover versions, the 80s was just a bad time for pop and rock and the material does not age well. And I grew up in that decade, too. I feel cheated.

I've learned many interesting things from doing the 1001 albums list, one of which is that I like jazz less than I thought I did. But this is a definite improvement on Kind of Blue, sounding more like I feel jazz should: varied, interesting and unexpected while you appreciate the musicianship on display. But, like The Grateful Dead album I heard a couple of weeks back, can I really imagine myself sitting and actively listening to two 20-minute tracks of it? And the answer is still no, not really.

It's a peculiar feature of my music taste that I quite like bluegrass but I can't stand country and this album seems to straddle the two. But whatever its bluegrass qualities, I find it hard to get past the way that aside from the lyrics and the narratives, all the songs sound almost exactly the same.

I don't know why I don't like The Doors more given how profoundly influential they were on music that I love, but I don't. While a blues rock band at heart, their attempts at straight-up blues - like this record and Morrison Hotel - sound inspid compared to real bluesmen, or even The Stones, or Zeppelin. The Doors were at their best stepping up and being weird, as seen here on the title track and the famous Riders on the Storm: the rest is merely fine.

The Stripes' raw, stripped down sound feels like it ought to be a throwback yet seems remarkably fresh. But it's also a bit repetitive and very reliant on good hooks: most of the songs deliver but a few just grind on a little too much.

One of REMs best efforts, seamlessly introducing elements of jazz, worldbeat and folk into their developing alternative rock sound.

The blasting synths of Save the Life of my Child, and the talk samples of Voices of Old People are a mistake. But otherwise this delivers oodles of what we love Simon & Garfunkel for: Simon's perceptive lyrics, catchy acoustic hooks and Garfunkel's extraordinary voice.

For those dismissing this as "French NIN", be aware that The Young Gods predate NIN by several years, so it's more accurate to say that NIN were the "American Young Gods". That said, this is a difficult album to love. It's texturally interesting but also rather abrasive, and a lot of the tracks are quite repetitive - particularly the atrocious opener - putting your attention squarely on the lyrics, which are in French. I'm not one to put down world music just because it's not in English but in this instance the language barrier is a problem.

I appreciate that Dave Grohl was in Nirvana, but I still didn't expect this record to sound exactly like Nirvana, stripped of everything confrontational, personal, or interesting. Grohl's vocals even sound a bit like Kurt Cobain. Nor did I expect most of the songs to sound the same.

Opens with some of the blandest, most generic rock music you will ever be blursed to hear. As things progress, though, bubbles of genuine emotion rise to the surface through the goop, particularly on the singles.

There are some big tunes on here, and I thoroughly approve of the tone and subject matter, but I'm afraid Fiona seems a bit too fond of the dreaded boogie-woogie piano backing to give this my full enthusiasm.

I have enjoyed plenty of electronica and cannabis in my life, but there's a particular 90s style of unstructured, unmelodic, chill-out vibe based on weak drum patterns and random jazz samples that I find very tedious, and this is a prime example.

This is a pretty great slice of genre-hopping across prog, glam and synth rock that sounds about ten years ahead of its time. It's a bit of a shame that almost ten minutes of side 2 is taken up with one of its weakest tracks.

Was indifferent to the first Yes album on the list, but this is an improvement. Roundabout is a classic tune all of its own but pretty much all the longer tracks here are worthwhile, each successfully developing it's own musical themes. The short filler pieces are, however, a bizarre inclusion and I do not care for the reedy vocals at all.

It's become fashionable to hate on U2 because they're terrible, but amidst the loathing it's easy to forget that they were, briefly, brilliant and the proof is right here. The guitars shimmer, Bono emotes with earnest soulfulness and almost every song builds beautifully to a cathartic climax. It's very sad how far the band have fallen.

The oddest rap album I've ever heard, freely blending worldbeat and dance. It's impressively creative but the production and vocal work are just too flat, monotone, and repetitive - so, so repetitive! - to make it enjoyable.

The first two tracks of this are so tiresome and derivative that they made me reconsider whether Son of a Preacher Man was worse than I remembered. But it improves somewhat after that, with a bit of funk & Dusty's lovely voice allowing a few tracks to escape the turgid gravity of the big band backing.

I'd rather listen to a classic Simon & Garfunkel album than half the mediocre rock on this list. Yes I would. If I could. I surely would.

This isn't really my bag but I have to recognise talent when I hear it. Monae is not only a great vocalist but this is highly creative music that resists easy categorisation: it's kind of like "prog soul", freely genre bending to create a unique sound.

King is a phenomenal perfomer, particularly his vocals, but the heavy use of brass section spoiled this a bit for me. Blues just sounds better to me when it's rawer and carried by the guitar.

Best thing about this album is the 21 minute run time. Punk has always been angry and aggressive but it was lots of other things, too, but all that feels buried here as the rage is turned up to 11.

It's impressive that The Band's freewheeling signature sound still feels unique 60 years on. But it's an acquired taste: at times it's super satisfying and mellow, others it's just an overly sentimental mess.

The positive reviews of this record all talk about how smooth and easy it is which, if you think about it for a moment, is essentially highlighting how totally vacuous, derivative & undemanding this music is as though that's a good thing?

This has an enjoyable and unusual retro-futurist sound, but most of the tracks start well before settling into an overly repetitive groove with a lack of variation or melody

Cabaret music was terrible when it was fashionable: mindless paste completely without interest, fun or merit. Why, why, WHY would you attempt to resurrect it?

PJ is one of my all-time favourite artists, and this is my third-most listened to of all her records according to lastFM. But my top two are, unforgivably, not on the 1001 list, so this is getting 5* in their stead. Not that it's not worth it: Harvey has a Bowie-like ability to change her sound with every album while still being recognisably PJ Harvey. This is her take on classic rock and is perhaps her least "interesting" record but also her most melodic and soulful, crammed with great riffs and a powerful sense of yearning.

I have colossal respect for Dexter Holland, the Offspring's singer, for going back to academia decades after abandoning it for music, and doing a widely-cited PhD in molecular biology, which happens to be my field. What a dude. But that doesn't mean that he can sing. His voice rasps through this record like a cheesegrater. It's also painfully derivative stuff, that sounds more like 80s metal than 90s punk, except without the panache or sense of fun. But still ... what a dude.

I'm a big fan of TH later records but younger me dismissed these early albums as too weird & punky. Revisiting there's the definite sense of a band trying to find it's feet but it's also apparent to older me just how extraordinary inventive & quirky this was in the context of 1977, a weird, fascinating amalgam of pop, punk and worldbeat with unique lyrical concerns about the confusion of modern culture.

Pretty baffled by the hate for this. Wobble feels like he's sailing close to greatness here, freely picking elements of rock, worldbeat and reggae to create a recognisable signature sound. It's only really let down by his terrible vocals: he knows to talk rather than sing most of the time, but when he tries the dude can't hold a tune at all.

I've never got on with Costello's commitment to genre-hopping: while it showcases his versatility and musicality, it makes albums a confusing listen. But there's some great lyrical work here, bleakly highlighting a myriad of social ills.

I have to admire the audacity of Adams in blatantly ripping off two of the biggest names in 20th century music, Dylan & Springsteen, without an ounce of their talent. The first two tracks are bearable, after which this descends into a soup of the most awful countrified, soft-rock shmaltz imaginable. I'm 110 albums in and this is the worst I've heard so far, a soulless, cynical corporate cash in of the worst kind.

I was exactly the right age for this album when it came out, and I even live near Portishead and it was *everywhere*. Playing in every party, every bar, mentioned in every conversation. And it is a very good record with a totally unique sound, somehow hollow and lush all at once from the mix of sampling and live playing. But I could never quite get on board with the absolute adoration it inspired. Some of the tracks sound like they're just about to kick it up a gear and go hard, but then don't. Some of the tracks lean too hard on lounge jazz for inspiration. The remainder are, indeed, brilliant, but there's just a bit too much suspect material for top marks.

This is nice. All the positive reviews and the wiki article banging on about creative use of time signatures make me feel terribly ignorant, but I'm afraid I can't get beyond "this is nice". Maybe time to go learn some music theory.

Gangsta rap works best when it has an edge of threat or desperation to power it through, and between his mumbled delivery and pop production 50 Cent can't muster that. The pop beat stylings do, however, make this a fine party album for everyone to nod along to.

The creative force of this, a neo-soul adventure into psychedelia, and the positive, empowering messages it conveys have to be acknowledged. But it's just not a style of music for me, I'm afraid.

Alternating snatches of horror and heartbreak through which Waits' gravelly voice dances and capers like a madman. A few tracks are just too weird or too schmaltzy to sit nicely.

Starts off with a cool disco sound in which, if you listen hard, you can just about detect the early notes of house music. But the style becomes repetitive very quickly, especially the dull dives into R&B romance.

Icelandic alt rocker discovers the British rave scene and drops an all time great record. Just an endless pleasure, so full of infectious joy and weirdness, while still eminently danceable.

What an interesting record, a base of country overlaid by classical strings and even bits of synth pop. If you can get beyond the pretentious song titles, the lyrics are pretty interesting too. Sadly. Callahan's flat, talky vocal style is not and it really spoils proceedings.

Holmes knows how to get a good groove going, but he doesn't then seem to know what to do with it. Almost all these tracks start out with great promise but then develop no variety or themes and outstay their welcome.

It's pretty fun and deserves some kudos for inventing a genre but, at the same time, it's also pretty slapdash and one-dimensional. Not something I particularly feel the pull to revisit.

This is a long album & there are a few tracks here that showcase Cave at his worst: pretentious & overwrought. The remainder, however, are excellent, full of raw and storied lyrics and rampaging across a wide range of styles, moods & influences.

It's pleasant enough but, about 120 albums in, this is the closest we've come to actual elevator music so far.

This is the third Springsteen album I've heard in relatively short succession, and the weakest. Like all the rest of them, it's fine: I appreciate the lyrical themes but the classic rock n roll style doesn't do much for me.

Pierce is an addict. Give him a gospel choir and an orchestral section and he will, inevitably, go gloriously OTT. This is a truly epic piece of space rock that rivals some of the great prog albums of the 70s for variety and theme.

I let out an initial groan when I heard that archetypical 80's pop vibe until I realised this is a 70's record and thus impressively inventive in context. Especially given this is a pretty downbeat take on it. This lead me to go down a mental rabbit hole about influential bands which ended up with my thinking about The Velvet Underground immediately before the cover of All Tomorrow's Parties on this record - which I didn't know was there - started playing. Which was weird. Anyway, inventive or not, unfortunately for Japan that archetypical 80's pop vibe has not aged well.

I've not heard all of Beck's albums but of those I know this my least favourite. While inventive, it's neither wild nor wooly enough to really catch your interest, and sometimes feels crudely cobbled together from different genres in a way that leaves the seams showing.

It's refreshing to hear something other than rock and jazz, and the music is full of energy and accomplished musicality, but it's a bit too ballroom focussed and big band style for my tastes.

What a fascinating album. The strings and flute on many tracks sound terribly incongruous, especially with Nico's odd, flat vocals. Especially when you recall how her delivery seems to work on other records. And then you read wikipedia, and realise they were added in post-production, and that Nico was so upset by their addition that she cried. And *then* you come to It Was A Pleasure Then and Eulogy to Lenny Bruce which are preserved in their original, haunting, format where the guitars and the reverb creaks and groan beneat Nico's baroque stylings and you feel like crying yourself for what might have been.

Perfectly pleasant and entirely unremarkable folksy jangle-pop. Baffled by the comparisons with the Smiths. It's what the Smiths might sound like if Marr played unremarkable acoustic strumming, and Moz wrote unremarkable love song lyrics. As in, nothing like the Smiths at all.

Paul Simon already knew how to craft a song before he got turbocharged by African music. The result is delightful, even if it sometimes over-reaches it's genre borrowing and leaves the seams showing, an amalgam of funky, folksy tunes with emotive, analytical lyrics. I get that this album would be labelled as cultural appropriation nowadays. But I was a teenager in the 80s when this came out, and the routes to promote international artists simply didn't exist. Simon collaborating with them on a major album release from a western publisher was probably the best thing he could do to bring them to wider attention.

It's a fairly one dimensional album but my word is it one funky dimension.

I loved Metallica as a teen. I do not love them now. This is fine grunting away in the background, but it's pretty repetitive: by far the best bit are the impressive guitar solos which introduce some variety and actual melody into proceedings.

I used to work in a shop where Van Morrison was a regular customer, and he was legendarily obnoxious. Quite how such toxic POS ever put out such a beautiful album is beyond me. The arrangements, blending classical, folk and jazz remain unique, and while Morrison's vocal style leaves something to be desired, the narrative, poetic lyrics swing between tragic and joyfully uplifting. Sometimes this combo tips over into pretentiousness, but mostly it's a delight.

It's a pretty fun album, but most of the songs just establish a motif and just run with it on repeat until it feels very tired. Kind of surprised that my favourite tracks are not the famous singles.

Firehose seems an apt name for this band, as listening to them feels like being blasted by a neverending, chaotic, stream of random genre chops and changes. It's like an amateur band experimenting, trying to pin down a sound they want to explore, except with professional quality musicianship.

A couple of unwise excursions into balladry aside, this is pretty great. It's got the edge of grunge with a whole lot more melody and some nice bass sensibilities too.

Funky Stevie is pretty cool when he gets going, but the punctuations of balladry really don't work for me. I recognise a lot of the tracks here so I assume this is a big influential album but I'm too ignorant of soul music to really get the implications.

One of the most influential albums in the annals of rock music, essentially launching the whole of 80s and 90s alternative music from the ashes of punk.

I normally get hooked into hip-hop, or not, by the production but this is a fun exception. The music is pretty minimial and repetitive (I think it's live?) but almost every track manages to establish a good hook and run with it nevertheless. The rhymes atop flow smoothly so, while it doesn't really have standout tracks as such, the whole just works. Stylistically, it feels like it owes a debt to the RZA, and it's cool to see a rap album acknowledging a debt to reggae instead of soul.

So it's not a trailblazer, but early on this delivers some fine blues-based psychadelic rock before drifting off up its own backside for some of the later tracks.

I'm not sure which is more repetitive, the overlong, rip-off funk tracks or the pathetically creepy sexual lyrics, but I must admit a soft spot for Buckley's tuneful and curiously androgynous voice.

Lyrically this is pretty interesting but albums start with tunes, not lyrics, and this is cursed with some of the most anodyne pop-rock it's been my mistfortune to hear, powered by beats that wouldn't sound out of place on the cheapest of Bontempi organs.

Listenable enough, and deserves praise for its varied sound and epic scope, but it doesn't stir or fascinate the way that Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust do. It lacks much in the way of hooks and if Bowie's vocals on Wild Is the Wind are among the best of his career, that highlights his limitations as a vocalist.

Bands need to change in order to stay relevant, but here the Stripes seem to have jettisoned their foundational principle of simple music done well in favour of overly-experimental music done badly, although a few songs still slap.

Beautifully sung, and pleasantly smooth but it's also terribly shallow and repetitive. Something that chunter away in the background rather than break life's iron crust.

I respect the energy and some of the guitar licks but mostly this feels like having an amp turned up to 11 broken over your head by a screaming madman.

Shamefully, I have never heard most of these songs before. But on the other hand it's an absolute treat to hear many of them for the first time. The first half of this album is fantastic, I kept waiting for it to drop the ball and it just kept delivering banger after banger until we get to Don't Pass Me By and it seems to run out of energy, if not ideas. There are a couple of other great tracks in the back nine, but they're the exception. So this leaves me with a dilemma. There's absolutely a 5/5 record among these songs, so do I rate that, or do I rate the album as a whole? Given this is an "albums" list, I feel compelled to go with the latter and drop away star. It also suits my sense of contrariness. Now to go and read the history which sounds fascinating, and may explain why the boys didn't exercise the quality control which would have made agree it's the stone classic so many clearly feel it is.

I had assumed from the singles alone that OutKast were a funky but forgettable pop rap group. But it obviously isn't so: this record surfs a range of styles and collects a number of quality bangers alongside a decent amount of filler.

This is an impressively varied album, ranging all sorts of styles and genres, especially for 1971. Almost inevitably that equally leads to a range of quality but for the most part this is pretty fun listening at its best when it doesn't take itself too seriously. And there's a couple of really famous tracks on here that you probably didn't realise were Harry Nilsson (I didn't).

Technically competent - especially the singing - but tremendously boring despite having a fairly varied set of arrangements as country music goes. The tiresome, hand-wringing subject matter doesn't help.

Feels like the heir of 90s shoegaze in a good, eclectic way, experimenting and updating the genre for a modern audience. After a slightly shaky first few tracks the album hits its stride at the midpoint and plays out pretty handsomely from there.

Critics seem to have confused "the popularization of indie rock" with stadium rock, which this is. It's fine. A couple of the songs meet its bombastic ambitions, but most don't and come across as overwrought and pretentious.

Yellow Submarine is terrible, and the sentiments of Taxman are unconscionable, but most of the rest of the album is pretty great, a mix of traditional rock n roll and a degree of experimentalism that was astonishing for 1966.

Not content with having killed off indie rock and grunge by out-miserying and out-guitaring them both on The Bends, Radiohead then made this seamless, astonishing transition to electronic music. The themes of alienation and paranoia seep through uncomfortably in both music and lyrics. Just brilliant, and a definitive album of its era that still sounds great and resonant today.

My ears want to reject this cacophony wholeheartedly but my brain cannot. It's too brave, too interesting: I've never heard anything like this, jazz produced with the aesthetics and tempo of hardcore punk and it's better than it's inspirations.

I want to like Nick Drake. He's often recommended to me, and is clearly adjacent to lots of stuff I really love. And it's pretty good: you can hear the craft in the arrangements and the emotions in the lyrics. But ... he just never fully comes together for me. I think there's a degree of monotony, of flatness, in his delivery and style that I just can't quite get on board with.

There's a couple of great tracks on here, but they're somewhat lost in the gigantic sea of West's vastly overinflated ego. Nine-minute rap tracks indeed.

Less of a riot and more of an extended, drunken stupor with a bad hangover. Occasionally sparks into life with a funky bassline, but it's mostly a mess, a scattershot blend of styles and moods, none of which I really like very much, and from which no individual tracks stand out. It doesn't help that it's unnecessarily long.

A fantastic reminder of why I really hated rap music when it was new. Shallow, repetitive production, shouty raps, and trite rhymes make this an absolute slog to get through. It's amazing to think this would eventually lead to Kendrick Lamar, but then again you'd never imagine Buddy Holly would lead to prog rock.

It's a solid listen, but it's almost too smooth: an ongoing flow of gentle beats and fun wordplay in which nothing really stands out. And it lacks the wiggly grooves of their followup, The Low End Theory.

This has fallen out of my electronica rotation, but listening again reminds me of how punchy Moby's mix of blues samples and beats can be, even if it's not quite up to the titans of 90's dance music. Unfortunately while that energy pushes through the first half of the album, the lower-tempo back nine are far less interesting.

I loved this album as a teenager, but listening again as an adult all the rock out moments can't disguise it's puriele obsession with sex, death and power: the original cover art that shamelessly depicted a rape victim. And even when it does go hard, it sounds pretty derivative to the modern ear.

Cohen was as much a poet and author as he was a musical artist. Good job too as he was never much of a singer and his voice got worse as he aged. On this evidence, so did his arrangements and musicianship: this sounds like it was composed using the pre-programmed rhythms on a cheap high school keyboard.