An early fascination brought to my attention from my drunk uncle when I was very young - absolutely timeless record! Dangerously beautiful. Plus I got a big boy crush on Jim Morrison, just like everyone else. ⭐⭐⭐⭐
The counter-melodies! In intricate guitarwork! Feels like a calm, rainy day. Doesn't burst... IT SETTLES. At first I was like, "GIVE ME SIMON & GARFUNKLE", but I could get into this! Will circle back
POWERFUL. Samples and chaos collide, bound together by indomitable groove. Lotta depth, lotta fun!
This vibe is growing on me but need more time to pick apart!
Effortless cool. It’s loose, funny, sinister, and confident in that early ’90s way. The restraint feels like power. Not just a West Coast classic - this is swagger permanently etched into fucking AMERICA.
Extremely weird, loose and somehow cocky all at once. Catchy hooks paired with ecclectic influences and plenty of groove. Production gives it a bit of a rind, feels like a cigarette smoke-filled arcade!
Upbeat synth dance rock for sad bois? It's tight, it's bright, got some great hooks while feeling a little detached and emotionally bruised - I think I dig it! 3/5 that could grow into a 4. "Grower not a shower", if you will
Gentle and smooth, underpinned by a dash of heartbreak, and I enjoy the minimalist approach. On paper I feel like I should love this record, but falls just short. I think I have a new soundtrack for bedroom sexy time tho
A god damn swampy, bluesy jam-fest start-to-finish, with zero fat to trim. Fogerty's voice is unmistakably distinct and perfectly flawed, carried by band attuned to functioning as an air-tight singular unit, while avoiding that "manufactured in a studio" sheen. Their sound is rich with gritty character and texture that makes me want to get to choppin' down those weeds in the timber
Vulnerability caped in bravado - my specific lane 😂 Unfiltered and unhinged, this record is a full-body experience with bite. Messy, loud and ALIVE in a way that captures my spirit and reminds me I can handle the intensity.
The kid from school who was first to have a Tamagotchi's white collar dad ROCKS COCK to these guys. There are some nice dynamics and tenderness here that appeal, but it never quite gets "real" enough. Too tidy. Too composed. Like the judgy girl in high school that doesn't participate in anything but has some real big opinions. I'd water my garden to this.
What a wild, jazzy, rockin’ tornado of diversity and sweaty good times! From unhinged Blues Brothers energy and solemn, romantic croons, to improvisational-feeling explosions of funky chaos, this is a hell of a fun ride. The horns don’t just sit on top - they run the show, swaggering and shining like the engine of the whole band. Classic sound I’ll always have time for!
Quite the vibe. Sexy groove, warm and steady, like you just walked into the middle of a jam and decided to hang and get a buzz goin'. I’m pretty uninitiated with jazz-adjacent stuff, so I connected more with the rhythm than anything much deeper. Didn’t move me emotionally - but as pleasant background jamz? Sure! I could also see myself getting emersed in this world and turning into a douchey weirdo TBH
Feels like it captured a whole moment in time - and I could see how it would have a ripple-effect through ska and beyond. I'm a sucker for genre-blending, and the brass hits like catnip, especially when paired with a cocktail of cheeky mischief and righteous indignation. A few stretches get a bit "dink-and-dunky" for me and start to ruminate instead of drive, but overall its a sound and vibe I enjoy. Lots of swagger and a good party, but nothing that lights my brain up
It's been a few years since I sat down with this one. First thing that hits is how intimate everything feels. The instrumentation creates a very layered and textured atmosphere, shifted around the space by low-end pressure and fidgety, disrupting rhythms. Yorke functions more as an instrument than the source of energy, always part of the arrangement, not sitting on top of it. A cinematic record I need to make more time in the rotation for.
Love spotting direct influences of artists I already love. TV on the Radio definitely mined this data! So far? An absolute delight to my ears. Every damn instrument in the studio is pulled into the mix and given the chance to lead. Triumphant, playful, solemn, downright silly - every song is a costume change. In my heart of hearts, I believe this one will reward repeated listening, unearthing fun little nuance along the way and really tuning into the emotion of his vocals.
OHHH I DUNNO MAN - I’m only vaguely fluent in jazz, so this one still feels like it has a bit of a velvet-rope barrier to entry. BUT when this baby locks into a groove, it’s genuinely gorgeous and I’m happily along for the ride. Then it gets a little elaborate and widdly - like it’s showing off in a cardigan (eyebrowz) and I’m reminded my heart still lives in land of aggressive guitars.
A great record to sit alone at a table in a dark room, drink whiskey, and have a good cry.
21 holds up because it’s built like a complete record, not just a stack of singles. The arrangements are sharp, Adele’s voice is effortless, and the album’s flow - from bright to bleak - lands every time. I want to dock one star because there are no shredding electric guitars, but I can't.
When does the country part start? Listen...LISTEN. Ray Charles is incredible. Timeless voice drenched in character and experience - truly a feast for my ear holes. And some of these tracks are indisputable classics - elegance of a bygone ear... BUT it just doesn't strike me. I'd take this record on loop for eternity vs being punished by public airwaves, but just atmosphere tunes for this guy.
Kickin' down the studio door and screaming "LET'S GET NUTS", this one helluva frantic ride. Sprinting, crashing, pivoting on a dime: beautiful for a second, then bursting into flame, but still plenty of hooks that linger, and space provided to catch your breath. The guitars are sharp and restless, vocals aren't my favorite style - but compliment the chaos quite well. Exciting from start to finish!
The goo might be medicated, but the vibes are all-natural, baby! "Barely 13, fresh to the scene, drinkin' more wine than anyone's seen" is actually Ann's working title for her autobiography, no correlation. Gypsy blood mixed with Hendrix-sounding guitars and an assortment of wind and strings make for a wonderful rock atmosphere. On paper - this should click with me, but sooths more than excites. A great soundtrack to getting high and concocting a low-stakes heist the back of a conversion van!
It feels like a heartfelt mixtape of rock and pop history, filtered through one very very confident voice. Moving very fluidly through moods and eras - tender, theatrical, playful, downright heavy - but still feels like one cohesive record. I'm makin' more time for ol' Rufus. Fun fact: with a name like Rufus Wainwright - I definitely thought this chap was going to be from the 60s era.
Fragile is undeniably beautiful, full of rich instrumentation and those soaring, sky-high vocals feel god damned transcendent. I appreciate the ambition and the progressive spirit, but a lot of it drifts into vibing and fiddling around - great as a background listen, less so if I’m looking to be fully locked in or emotionally grabbed.
The Ramones’ self-titled is a fun little reminder of how far punk has come -and how little it’s actually changed. It’s stripped down to the bone. Just dudes exercising demons in the studio, no frills, no filler, no bullshit. That nonstop, driving energy and those buzzing guitars still hit something primal, even 40–50 years later. It’s not trying to be smart or polished - it just is, and that’s kind of the whole point.
Ann says I can't use ChatGPT for help anymore so let's rip: I wasn't directly familiar with the Queen's work prior to today, aside from what I've absorbed through the ether. Surprisingly, still pops off 30+ years later! Anything rhythm and groove-centric appeals to this guy - but merge funky soul with NYC hip hop and baby, my ass is jigglin'. Strong, bold, confident - without being overtly aggro or doing an impression of the masculinity on display at the time. Great record!
What can I say about this record that hasn't already been said about the log ride at Adventureland? Twists and turns of intelligent and complex rock-n-roll fury! It's hit has been dulled by my decades of death metal, but still tickles my gibblies and appreciate its influence on band I love today!
Went in fully expecting theatrical space odyssey art pop, fully adorned in glitter and panache - but VERY surprised by the crunchy and gritty rock I was met with that, frankly, rips! Watch ya fingers, some dangerous guitar shredding embedded here. The vocals are real AF - not performing...expressing! A few of the tracks I knew but had no idea were Bowie, which makes me feel like terrible fraud who should be tarred and feathered in a Wal-Mark parking lot. Elton, Iggy, and even a little Sabbath weight in spots. Production is just "okay", but the vibe is SIKK. I want to get hammered at a pub and scream, "IT AIN'T EEEEASSSYYYY"
I first listened to this record as a 16-year-old white farm kid living in Iowa. Needless to say, I was slapped in the face with 12 inches of street life. But man, what a ride! From raw & real to straight up silly and romantic (in a dude sorta way), this record is as infectious as the herps without the embarrassing dinner date where you have to explain everything. The funk, the flow, the aggression, the mischief: all with an apparent appreciation for music of the culture and an innovative approach to telling their story. Lyrics like, "sweating all the bitches in the biker shorts," left this young man pondering, "maybe we're all not so different after all?"
My timing colliding with this one might have put Herbert in a tough spot. I was in the mood for fun/joy — got elevator music in its place! Don't get me wrong, there's some rhythm and groove here that appeals, diverging a bit from jazz's improvisational and solo-first approach, but I'm not gonna just pretend to sound smart: this was a wank-fest for me. WHERE'S THE BEEF?
At some point in this woman's youth, someone needed to tell her, "no". Unfortunately for all of us, this pivotal moment did not take place, and this horrifying tragedy is the result. I need someone to explain to me who the audience is for this.
A record that embodies everything I was looking for a in girl at 20 years old: completely unhinged, plenty of eyeliner, bit of a smoker's cough and emotionally unavailable - brim with the kind of charisma that makes bad decisions feel REAL nice. Some surprising diversity in the mix, brewing up an interesting and satiating stew of grunge hard rock/metal and youthful angst that seems to truly give no fucks. I recommend wearing a condom.
I was a fan already prior to the release of this one - "Your Touch" was one of the first songs I learned to play on guitar, but this one in particular HIT. Maybe a bit long-in-the-tooth, but sweet merciful baby Jesus, "Brothers" is chock-full of sassy, bluesy rock-n-roll nastiness that makes this reporter grateful he's not wearing sweatpants.
It's gonna be a "no" for me dawg. Don't get me wrong, some beautiful stuff, rich with vibrant percussion and emotional depth, going down here - it just doesn't illicit a damn thing from my mind + spirit. Good restaurant music. I could hold a decent conversation about cruise lines to this.
Just a LOVELY little assortment of sorbets here! Gentle sentimentality that damn near lifts me to the heavens, blended with moments of exuberant play, and two scoops of inner anguish exercised through swanky grooves and electric guitars. Not the vibe I typically reach for, but I find something intriguing about it... maybe I'm just gassy.
I suspect that if my sex drive flatlined, my investment portfolio was just a bit more diversified, and I garaged a new Corvette I strictly drive 10 mph below the speed limit on weekends, I would love this. Until that happens, I'll turn to the Beatles... and a t-bone.
Music for the Masses is my shit on paper: industrialized robot pop, expensive gloom, synths humming like a sexy appliance, I don't even mind the sad boi vibez. Reality? It just washes over me. Nothing really pops. Nothing sticks. And repeated listens unearth no mysteries. It's polished, very moody, very "come stand in this dimly lit fog and despair" but the songs never really sink their claws in. I don't hate it, which honestly makes it worse. I just sit there thinking "yeah...yeah" while the album quietly slips out the back door. Great wallpaper for a depressive European nightclub. Stinks like vomit and cigarette butts.
I sincerely apologize to you, Mr. Michael Stipe. You're probably a very intelligent and interesting dude with a lot of friends, a neat collection of figurines and caring heart, but as Tom Segura once said, your voice makes me soft and I'm tryin' to stay hard out here. The music itself is thoroughly engaging; all the best elements of rock with high level of maturity and craftsmanship... BUT I'm gonna need an instrumental cut of the record.
Get out the defibrillators in you plan to endure 44 minutes of this castrated Americana! It's not a BAD record, per se - just aggressively domesticated comfort. Some decent grooves here and there, but they simply refuse to be naughty and I'm in the mood to be disciplined. Bet these guys could write a rippin' 80's sitcom theme song! You can practically HEAR the freeze-frame family hug at the end.
This is one of the records that started it all for me! How the path led to blackened thrash metal and powerviolence? I dunno bro, but I'm grateful for four dudes in tube socks locking themselves in a room to accidentally invent "horny haunted-mansion funk metal". Best part? It STILL jamz. Filthy, soulful, chaotic and, at times, downright stupid... but somehow still feels like the coolest shirt in your closet you refuse to retire. Makes me feel SEXY
Despite being a life-long metalhead and STRONG thrash advocate, Anthrax simply never clicked with me. I like the slightly punk-leaning tendencies, and when those guitars open up the throttle, riffs purr like a kitten, but the vocal delivery of Joey Belladonna always put me off. I typically try to avoid letting the sound of the vocalist overly influence my experience as that tends to fade with repeated listens, but 'twas a hang-up. Now that I've sat with it a minute, shit's still a bit cornball, but I appreciate the snarl and how he rhythmically compliments the riffage. Push come to shove, I'm reaching for an Exodus record, but I got room for this!
Aptly titled, this spacey little number is truly a calm and soothing voyage into the vastness of your subconscious - or the roadmap to one fuggin' vibrant drug trip. Dealer's choice, but either way the destination is obscured, and the air is potent with incense. Typically records like these, exploring space rather than conquering it, can lose my interest, and it's true that some tracks dance on the precipice of doing just that, but for this guy? As soon as the moment feels road worn, your course is gently adjusted, aiming you towards another moment of relief. Overall, the sound is a bit bland, but perhaps that's by design. The intent and execution line up here. Enjoyable experience!
Stepping into this plodding and pompous affair was NOT the fun-time happy dance shindig I was expecting. Extravagantly grand, highly ambitious and often quite beautiful, it intrigues me that there's more to the GEEZ than what I had perceived, but this just ain't it. Despite its efforts, it plays to me like a tired Beatles cover band that spends hours at the bar after sets explaining that, "while the Beatles provided our foundation and footing, we aspire to a more artistic exploration of the space". You smile, you sip your beverage, and you desperately scan the room for your friend to bail you out. Skilled and talented, no doubt, but pairs well with a sleep mask.
Struttin' downtown Metropolis in my BluBlockers, leather jacket, acid washed jeans with the elastic waistband, and an immaculately clean pair of Reebok pumps - THIS is the record pumpin' in my Walkman. Not my lane at all - but beautifully crafted! There's a simple elegance here making it apparent a lot of time and care was put into shaping the songs. It takes you on a careful journey through a full range of emotion, but only as a guide, leaving room to get weird in the depths of your mind. I think a year ago I would have dismissed this as boring, but now I see depth and something worth circling back to!
What a bombastic and perfectly over-the-top rock-n-roll romance opera! I was exposed to this record as a kid, Mombo karaokeing the silly fuck out of it while hosting family dance parties in the living room. At the time, I thought it was goofy shit for the olds, but guess who came around? Exciting, energetic, and drenched in sweat: this baby has enough hammering piano, whaling sax and shredding guitars to elevate gym shorts. Maybe a page or two torn from Elton's book, but who cares? This chunk of tunes is so rich with frenzied passion, you don't even mind the spit hitting your face. Spanning the complete gamut with the metal-as-fuck "All Revved Up" to the gloriously beautiful ballad, "Two Out of Three", Meat Loaf served a timeless joy ride of rockin' sex fuel, hot-n-ready.
This record sounds like a bunch of bun-wearing granola bros flexin' for the lady folk. Laid-back, cool, a dash on the cocky side, but a little manufactured. The real problem: the album is hot and it knows it. The guitars sound great, the songs drift along in a really satisfying way, and the whole thing just feels like a mood I want to explore. As a first listen, I was a little thrown by how aggressively they enjoyed their own farts, but hell, the aurora is quite intoxicating, at least for a good chill session.
Disco needed more lovelorn emo drama and eyeliner! The Lexicon of Love feels like it SHOULD be ridiculous, yet lands with such poise and precision that resisting it begins to feel straight silly. Sleek, synthetic, theatrical, and a dash smug, but OH SO absurdly catchy that the smugness becomes part of the pleasure. The vocal delivery is a huge part of why it works here. The personality in his voice makes all the romantic scheming and smug sexual wordplay feel like cheeky fun rather than nonconsensual assault. Pop tunes for celebrating Maury's announcement that you are, indeed, NOT the father.
Fisherman’s Blues has grit, heart, and enough ragged charm and musical personality to honk your metaphorical horn...or at least at first. Unfortunately, the record never manages to get passed tickling the genies, slowly revealing itself to be an exhaustive trip to nowhere. It’s the sound of very talented musicians having a great time...ignoring the concept of editing. Decent soundtrack to getting day-hammered and passing out in the sun on the patio of your favorite local drinking establishment!
I came to punk by way of the blasphemer: metal. So OBVIOUSLY my opinion is null and void, but hell, I think I would have been better served uninitiated. NOT the punk knife fight I was expecting. I actually spun this a couple times a decade ago, but clearly I've smoked myself into a thick lavender haze, cuz I don't remember SHIT. For a band with their reputation, there's a surprising amount of polish, range, and musical sophistication here. Instead of beer bottles full of piss shattering across my face, I got reggae, rockabilly, pop, and a band flexing how versatile they are. DECENT.
I didn’t know much of Lauper aside from the hits, but for some reason, I had this unyielding faith that good times would materialize if I gave the record a little patience. I think I was right? The record won me over in a way I wasn’t expecting and is more than just a delivery system for the obvious singles. The real kick was hearing how much character Lauper brings to everything else - she sounds mischievous, wounded, ecstatic, theatrical, and completely herself, often packed into one song. It's loud-and-proud with 80s sheen, but if you can get past that? It's a lively and oddly touching lil diddy.
Hey, wanna start Marxist corporate funk band blending dance rhythms and bleak, intellectual punk? Throw in some 80s synth, and baby you got a stew goin'! I don't love this... but I don't hate it? How about "I admire it"? It's clever, stylish, and distinct, but also as emotionally withholding Lucille Bluth. (That's two Arrested Development references if you're counting). Not a chunk of music that invites you in, more spreads the cheeks and lifts the sack, but a decent view!
Physical Graffiti ain't my favorite Zeppelin record, but it's fuggin' ZEPP BRO. I'm a huge fan, and their influence on a lot of the modern hardcore and metal I'm into is impossible to miss. Such an ambitious, absorbing jam - sprawling in a way that could've easily collapsed under its own weight, devolving into a sweaty wank festival. Bouncing between styles without losing power or identity, it's an enthralling listen. Big and confident, with the chops to push beyond what a rock record was supposed to be. Even now, it hits me as ahead of its time. ALL HAIL!
