Some bright spots, but with the passing of the years feels a little mawkish in places. There are clearly lots of talented session musos playing on this, and I think that’s half of my problem; I can visualise the wrap-around shades, cowboy boots and general schtick.
Meh. It’s famous and all that, but bloody hell it’s flabby in places. That said, the title track is quite tight.
It seems unbelievable that I’ve never listened to this before. Things that I didn’t like: the faux old man persona, the harmonica. Things that surprised me: I didn’t expect it to be as direct, personal and irreverent lyrically. In some ways it feels quite contemporary. I probably won’t rush to listen again, but I’ve broken my Dylan bias at least
I put this album on. It played. It finished. I did some admin, but at no point did it offer anything to explain why it’s on this list. Yes, some lovely harmonies at points, and a very capable bunch of musicians, but, and this is the thing, it feels manufactured, and that there’s no heart to it. The production doesn’t feel coherent from one song to the next, and lacks a sense of authenticity which follows through to the lyrics which are frequently cliched, or worse, insincere. It doesn’t feel like the product of a band who honed their skills gigging and building a sound. It doesn’t sound like the debut of a band trying to prove themselves, more it sounds like the debut of a band who were into shifting units more than expressing their art.
So it’s not a case of “I hate the fucking Eagles, man” because there’s really nothing to hate. There’s nothing to give a fuck about. And that’s worse.
One of the great benefits of doing this is when you get to hear an album you’re aware of but have never had a good excuse to listen to.
So, Keith Jarrett. I expected something more austere, po-faced, clever but charmless. But this, dear reader, is none of those things. Excuse my French, but it’s an absolute fucking joy. Jarrett’s incredible talent is in evidence throughout but as a means of bringing his imagined melodies to us, not for musical show boating. Beautiful, thrilling music
What an odious pile of shit. Bloated, pretentious, self-satisfied. Cloth-eared production, needlessly fussy drumming, hysterically bad lyrics. Jesus, this is awful and precisely why 14 year old boys should be allowed to get this stuff out of their systems in private.
I find it hard to review this record objectively, because for several weeks in 1994, it was my world and listening to it again now, I’m 21 again, making music with friends and exploring a whole new world of music that this album referenced.
I was first aware of Portishead through James Lavelle’s Straight No Chaser columns, and their name (misspelled as “Portashed”) appeared on a Mo Wax advert in the same magazine. The beats scene that Lavelle, Gilles Peterson and others were leading was opening our minds up to other genres, shaping a UK sound that was informed by hip hop’s spirit but was relentlessly tracking down new sounds from anywhere we could find them. “Dummy” is probably one of the great expressions of that scene and era, along with DJ Shadow’s “Endtroducing” and the relentless experimentation coming from Goldie’s Metalheadz label.
So, why is it great and why should you care? For me, it’s one of the most gloriously realised albums of that period; they brought a fully-formed world with them. Beth Gibbons’ vocal delivery sweeps across such a range of personas and emotions without ever feeling like a novelty or that she’s showing off. The production is clearly informed by what was happening in NY hip hop at that time without ever being derivative, and the musical arrangements make gold from only very few elements. The tempos might be lower, but there’s no sense of this being a “mellow” (I hate that term) record; tracks like “Strangers" and "Wandering Star" move urgently forward, whilst “Pedestal” makes great use of pitched down beats and samples (an approach that was relentlessly copied by others) to create a disorienting, almost threatening mood.
Although “Dummy" spawned a legion of dinner party trip-hop copycats who missed the original’s sense of grand drama, there are many more who took inspiration its cinematic vision; so whilst we might have to suffer Morcheeba, it’s tempered by Radiohead’s “Climbing up the Walls” and wonderful artists like Flying Lotus.
In my opinion, it’s a wonderful record, one of the best of the 1990s, and certainly deserves to be considered amongst the greatest debut albums of any genre. I hope you love it too.
I’m not quite sure what to make of this one. I have a soft spot for Robert Wyatt - he’s never knowingly ordinary. However, this album mostly washed over me; A Last Straw and Little Red Riding Hood Hit The Road were the most memorable moments, bringing jazz influence to bear and some experimental touches, and I couldn’t wait for “Little Red Robin Hood Hit the Road” to end, but other than that it was quirky but ultimately fairly unremarkable.
Great rhythm section, ear catching lyrics but it’s too long, and if you’re not a big fan of Elvis Costello’s voice, it does start to drag after 30 mins
On the face of it this should be right up my street. Hip hop was a massive part of my teenage/early 20s soundtrack, coinciding with the golden age of the late 80s to early 90s. On first listen, this feels contemporaneous with that era, and with the Roots & Mos Def’s late 90s evolution of that sound. And that’s how it goes as it starts off with; some great flows, familiar-but-not-familiar beats and samples, and a renaissance of b-boyism. So far so good, but after a few tracks something feels off. It’s not bad, but it feels like it’s all a bit too studied. It’s something I can’t shake as the album plays through, and then it dawns on me; the problem is that it’s just too cleverly done. There’s a layer of grit and grime missing from the beats. The rhymes are expertly done, but rely too much on throwbacks to a bygone era, and it begins to feel one-dimensional. It’s not bad and it’s certainly not cynical, but it does feel a little too parochial and reluctant to innovate which is reflected in the way it feels way too long despite only coming in at 56 minutes.
I didn’t expect to be as touched by this album as I was. A delightful record
This was the first Radiohead album I “got” and it’s been a firm favourite ever since. It’s still a thrilling release by a band who were just getting into their stride with bold steps.
I came to Kid A from 15 years of listening pretty exclusively to hip hop, house, techno, drum n bass and latterly exploring more avant garde electronics, and rock really didn’t figure much in my reckoning. A good friend recommended this to me not long after its release, commenting on the influence a lot of the music I loved had had on it.
However, I think it’s too reductive to describe Kid A as Thom Yorke trying to be Autechre; unlike the indie dance merchants of the early 90s whose protestations that there’d always been a dance element to their music, here you can hear the influence of numerous strands of electronic music being woven in, rather than being mindlessly aped. To me, Kid A is of a similar spirit to Björk’s stellar releases of the 90s, and to the Happy Mondays and the Falls’ channeling of Can’s funky psychedelic spirit.
Musically it’s fine - well recorded, right - but lyrically and vocally, that’s just some minstrelry.
The horniness & bluesman persona is risible, particularly when you remember he’s called Tim.
I thought I might like this a bit more but Blur can’t write albums. And it has to be said, they wear their influences very much on their sleeve to a point that it sounds more a collection of tributes than songs
Listening to this I really can’t understand why 90s R ‘n B is looked back at with such nostalgia. She’s got an incredible voice, yes, but the songs are just so anaemic. “Fly Away” is the only one I didn’t have to fight the urge to skip, and I’m going to have a look to see if there are any dance floor remixes of it around.
Good god, this is unjustifiably pleased with itself. Plodding, flabby dad-rock &, excuse my French, fucking dreadful lyrics. Positives: he can sing.
Really not my cup of tea, but I can see its appeal
Definitely more a collection of 12-inch tracks rather than an album. Starts with great purpose, but after a few tracks the template starts to feel a bit tired and the last few tracks feel out of place.
There are some subtle touches in there that I wouldn’t have associated with the Chems, and some of the sample choices show more musical depth than many of the big beat merchants of the time. It’s definitely of its time, and not a classic by any means.
My god, it just keeps going on and on. Every track ruined by his irritating nasal white boy rapping. You do not need to hear this before you die.
Fun anger. It sounded less dated than I thought it might, and a lot of it still holds up well.
I’m coming to the conclusion that this period of rock music is the opposite of what I’m looking for. There’s something so corny and naff and generally “musical theatre" about the lyrics and vocal performances that I can’t get past, and it’s a shame as there are some great musical moments in there.
The band are clearly incredibly talented and versatile, but I think that’s the problem for me; I think I prefer to hear musicians stretching themselves to incorporate other styles, getting it wrong and making something interesting on the way. In the case of this album, they veer between different styles and influences but lacking real passion. E.g. “Mr Skin” is a competent attempt at a rock/soul fusion but feels like it’s the work of a group of session musicians who can seamlessly shift to produce a facsimile to fit the brief of the day.
So, I’ll be honest, I’ve never really bothered to explore the Velvet Underground’s work before. On the face of it, this is a major oversight - some of my favourite artists (Can, Eno, Kraftwerk and others) cite them as a major inspiration - but the odd bits I’ve heard never encouraged me to dive in further. Thankfully, working through this list has changed that.
So, White Light/White Heat. Reading the reviews of this before getting into it, I was expecting this to be a more challenging listen than it was, which isn’t me trying to claim some hipster points, more that the influence of the Velvets on a lot of music I love means this feels a little more accessible than if I was coming to it fresh; its influence on Can’s early work with Malcolm Mooney is in evidence, particularly "The Gift”. It’s not an album I can imagine I’d listen to over and over again, but it’s absolutely one I’d recommend, and one I’m glad I finally checked out.
I’ve had this album for a good 30 or so years, and for whatever reason it’s not one I reach for when I want to listen to something from beginning to end. That’s been my loss, because hearing now in full reveals what an absolute masterpiece it is; an insanely talented set of musicians, great songs beautifully arranged, and Oh, that voice. Effortless yet controlled, expressive but subtle. The album is 35 minutes of beautiful, lush, ambitious and thought provoking magic.
As with many albums on this list, go for the original release and ignore the 50th anniversary version unless you’ve got a real need to hear every possible version of What’s Going On recorded.
(I want to point out here that there have been many subsequent singers compared to Marvin Gaye, but you need to hear him here at his absolute peak to understand he’s beyond compare)
Just great. Proper national treasure stuff.
Some charming moments, but it’s not staggeringly memorable. It sounds great though; it’s got some of that natural warmth I love in the some of the best recorded Brazilian music of the 60s and 70s
I have tried and tried but I just can’t find anything to love. It has moments and it’s beautifully recorded, but doesn’t set my pulse racing.
Papa horny, Michael.
I’m very “meh” on this one. The good bits are good, the bad poetry is really bad (“Ride the snake to the lake, the West is the best”), and I suppose it proves how influential this album was that some of the really corny bits sound like the soundtrack to a Swinging London party in an Ealing comedy.
Punk was enormously important for music, especially in the UK, but I’ve got to admit this just bored me after a while. As a snapshot of a moment, it works, but it quickly loses its novelty and charm and doesn’t stand up as a great album.
I can’t work out why I haven’t heard this album before; all of its contemporaries (“Brothers in Arms”, “Graceland”, “Hounds of Love”) were never far from the family car's cassette deck, but never this.
The singles still hold up well, “Sledgehammer” particularly is a great piece of art-rock adjacent, impeccably crafted pop. Even the slightly self-indulgent moments work. Good fun and one I might well listen to again.
Quite enjoyable trip down memory lane. It’s a little short on ideas, but not without charm
This was an interesting one. I’d missed the hype on BoC first time around and had them in my “I’ll give it a go later” list.
The first half of the album is quite melancholic, and if I’m being critical, it’s a little one dimensional; ambient analogue washes wobble in, beats start and stop, but it sounds a little detached. But it starts to pick up and by the time we reach “Roygbiv”, there’s a tangible character and drive at last which it sustains skilfully through to the end. One I can see myself returning to, for certain
It’s fine, I guess, just a bit samey after a few tracks
What I like about Skepta is the slight tongue in cheek approach he has lyrically - little throwaway references to British culture, like kid’s TV, cling film and a Ribena - whilst still demonstrably a serious grime artist. I didn’t like all of it, but the good bits (the singles particularly) are very good indeed
Nope. I have tried to approach everything on this list with an open mind, but something about this type of music just rubs me up the wrong way. Maybe it's the vocal stylings. Maybe it’s the banjos. Maybe it’s the turgid pace. I don’t know but I really do think one could live a full life without having to listen to this.
This just got on my nerves. Shouting does not equal soul.
I’m going to have to say it; the shouted backing vocals on “Just Go Away” sound like they’re from Fraggle Rock.
Otherwise, iconic album. Debbie Harry’s vocals are exceptional throughout. Musically strong set overall and it contributes to my view that that period in New York must have been one of the most musically fertile of all time.
Right, need to find a criticism. The typeface used on the cover (ITC Zapf Chancery) looks terrible now.
This is a magnificent album. Starting out with Running Up That Hill, it never once settles for the ordinary; Kate Bush resists the temptations offered by the digital technology of the time to throw everything into each track, and instead builds an incredible sound world that supports some absolutely world beating songs. The thing is, many of the sounds and elements are so familiar as to become cliche, but they’re brought together with such warmth, creating an utterly idiosyncratic soundscape.
Even “Jig of Life”, which is the sort of diddly-diddly thing that’d send me over the edge has enough interesting musical twists and turns to make it work.
It’s a wonderful album.
This is a funny one. It’s a good solid album; musically very rich and sonically interesting, but I’m not sure why it’s on the list (this is a sentence I seem to be writing far too often). Beck is a bit of an unknown quantity to me; I don’t know anything about him as a person, and I don’t get the sense of a particular persona from this.
It’s not a classic, or one that recommend or stand up for in an argument, but it is rather affable. Ultimately, I like this album but I’m not sure why.
Overblown flute is like nails down a blackboard to me. Earnest prog is not up my street at all. The occasional moment seemed alright but overall just not my cup of tea
I was a bit of a contrarian prick when this record came out and didn’t deem it worthy of a second listen. I was completely wrong and I’m glad this got generated for me to give a second chance.
