Undoubtably influential, deeply weird. Someone had to keep the party going while Chuck D was yelling about politics and Eazy-E about slinging dope. Managing to bring the party while also making a concept album about a sci-fi digital sex drug is an accomplishment in itself.
The acid has hit. The lads from Liverpool have contemplated their mortality. John sneers, Paul sighs, Ringo grins, and George writes underrated bangers. A cornerstone of modern experimental music; it hits from all directions and never slows down. This must've blown some minds wide open back in '66.
This is one that seems to linger just outside the REM pantheon. Its highs are quite high (Orange Crush) but the rest is inconsistent. This could still be someone else's best album; that it's mid REM is a testament to REM.
This is where Muse finds the right balance between high-minded prog and arena-ready glam. The epics are epic, the rockers shred, and the quieter songs break things up a bit. Issues only arise when they try and dip into the deeper end of the pool. They want to be like Pink Floyd so badly they got Storm Thorgerson to do art for them, but they don't quite reach that level of insight or wordplay. No wonder Glenn Beck liked them.
The measure of a U2 album is how many detours it makes to some preachy, ponderous dreck. This is the best U2 album because it only makes a couple of those detours. There are a few songs that, while good, feel like they never fully kick into gear like the first 3 tracks do. Still, this is a very good set of songs led off by 3 absolute classics.
I listened to this album a lot when riding around with my Dad as a kid. That's why I wanted this listen-through to make me feel something, and all I felt was tired. Cliff's dead, they already indulged themselves to the max on the last album. Now it's time to get the guy that makes Motley Crue sound good and ride the angst wave into a new decade of arena tours. You can sell a lot of records without selling out. You can also sell a lot of records by selling out and that's what Metallica did.
Nothing paints you into a musical corner faster than being deemed a leader of a subgenre. Thrash metal sounds dated and cheesy as fuck in 2025, but there's no doubt Dave Mustaine is good at making it. There's even some goofy stuff about the environment and wizards in there to break up the usual Songs About War. This is good for what it is, even if it's not very culturally relevant now. It's not like the people the Bevises and Buttheads of the world grew into care about cultural relevance.
Midnight mass at a dark cathedral of love and longing. A definitive moment for goth music. Though grunge will make synths uncool for a while, when synthesizer music comes back it is rebuilt in the image of this album.
A product of needing to follow up on one of the biggest albums ever, while not being able to agree on anything, and also having access to a mountain of cocaine; Tusk sprawls, but only in 3 distinct directions. The three songwriters each submit a slate of songs that seem to have little influence from the rest of the band. Christine writes some delicate ballads, Lindsey writes some experimental stompers, and Stevie writes the hits. It's not exactly cohesive, and it's definitely a product of drug-fueled excess (no sober person has ever thought a double album was a good idea) but it still hits more than it misses. Thus is the strength of these songwriters even if Buckingham is starting to lose it.
The soundtrack to many a wasted afternoon, and the point at which power pop fully evolves into pop-punk as we know it. By mixing SoCal skate punk vibes with tight, ear-wormy songwriting, Green Day launched both themselves and a whole industry of mall punk wannabes. It's easy to make fun of now, but the way you make a new paradigm is by being undeniable, and Dookie is undeniable. The songs are tight, catchy, sharp, and there's so goddamn many of them. As cringe as those mall punk kids were, Billy Joe earned every single dollar he ever squeezed out of them right here.
As sure as day turns to night, young punks turn into old punks, and Paul Westerberg was just starting to turn from one to another on Let It Be. There's plenty of immaturity here; from the songs about boners and evil dentists, to the KISS cover, to the sheer audacity of borrowing a Beatles album title. Still, all of that becomes a welcome contrast to the more thoughtful songs with heavier themes about growing up, gender expression, and loneliness. The Replacements were a volatile band and Let It Be can seem like a mess at first listen; but the polish of their later records blunts their impact. The roughness and variety gives Let It Be a charm that Tim can't quite match. It's a perfect time capsule of being twenty something in the mid 80s and having ideas some might call "alternative". Despite spending years running away from the label, Paul Westerberg, at this moment, was truly the voice of a generation.
