A very solid and representative big band record from the late 1950s. The highlights are the arrangements: sharp, elegant, and driven by a steady groove that keeps everything tightly locked in. The orchestra sounds compact and precise, with strong riffs and an excellent sense of balance throughout. That said, the album feels quite uniform from start to finish. There are no major surprises or dramatic shifts in mood or style, which makes it consistently enjoyable but ultimately limits its impact, leaving it a bit dull. Well suited for a light study session.
Listened to the 1994 Roulette Jazz CD catalog number "7243 8 28635 2 6". Solid master overall.
6/10 While I enjoyed it, it’s not an album I’d actively choose to revisit in full.
The Dark Side of the Moon is not merely an album, it is an experience, a meticulously constructed journey through the anxieties, contradictions, and quiet terrors of the human condition. This is not the first time I listen to it, and that fact only reinforces its greatness. Even after multiple listens, it refuses to fade into familiarity. Instead, it deepens. Every return reveals new emotional textures, subtle details, and lyrical resonances that feel as relevant today as they did in 1973.
What makes this album extraordinary is its cohesion. The lyrics explore time, mortality, greed, madness, and alienation with a clarity that is both intimate and universal. Musically, it is flawless in its restraint: nothing is excessive, nothing is accidental. The production is pristine, yet never cold. Synths breathe, guitars ache, and the rhythm section moves with a hypnotic patience that pulls the listener forward whether they intend to follow or not.
Even the simplest interludes, heartbeat pulses, cash registers, snippets of human speech, carry weight. They are not filler; they are connective tissue. These moments give the album its cinematic flow and emotional continuity, proving that depth does not require complexity, only intention. Few albums can make silence, space, and repetition feel this profound. At times, the music doesn’t just sound good, it sends chills down your spine.
Criticism of The Dark Side of the Moon often says more about the listener than the record. Those who dismiss it as boring or overrated usually approach it with the attention span of a goldfish scrolling TikTok at 2x speed. This is not an album designed for passive consumption or shuffled playlists. It demands focus. It asks to be heard from beginning to end, as a complete conceptual work.
Judging The Dark Side of the Moon as a loose collection of individual songs misses the point entirely. If taken apart and evaluated track by track, it might lose some of its magic, but that’s like judging a film by watching random scenes out of order. Its true power lies in its continuity, in how each piece feeds into the next. As a unified whole, it is greater than the sum of its parts.
In the landscape of modern music history, The Dark Side of the Moon stands as one of the finest albums ever created. Not because it tries to impress, but because it understands exactly what it wants to say, and says it with haunting precision.
I listened to the "MFQR 1-017" Ultra High Quality Record pressing release by MFSL, and in my opinion it is a marvel, quite possibly the best master and pressing of this album.
9.5/10
My first listen to Who’s Next left me oddly cold. I understood its reputation, but it didn’t immediately feel like the untouchable classic it’s often described as. On a second listen, however, the album revealed itself more clearly, not as a flawless masterpiece, but as a record with very high peaks and noticeable structural issues.
The opening is almost unfairly strong. “Baba O’Riley” isn’t just a great song; it’s a statement. The iconic synth loop, the slow emotional build, and the explosive release make it one of the most powerful album openers in rock history (shoutout to all the House M.D. fans who can’t hear it without thinking of that final scene). The problem is that this level of impact sets expectations the album struggles to maintain.
For the next four tracks, Who’s Next enters a stretch that is perfectly competent but largely unremarkable. The songs are well-played, well-produced, and structurally sound, yet they lack distinctive hooks or moments that truly stick. They function more as solid filler than essential statements, which is especially disappointing given how strong the album begins. Nothing here is actively bad, but very little demands to be remembered.
This exposes the album’s main weakness: pacing. Who’s Next often relies on sheer power and texture rather than consistently strong songwriting. When the band is inspired, the results are massive and emotionally direct. When they aren’t, the record coasts on volume, attitude, and reputation. The midsection, in particular, tends to blur together, creating a sense of imbalance between legendary highs and merely decent album cuts.
For this listen, I played the Steve Hoffman CD master (MCAD-37217), and it deserves specific praise. It’s an excellent mastering job, easily one of the best masters I’ve heard. The dynamics are intact, the instrumental layers are clearly separated, and the album breathes in a way that modern remasters often flatten. The clarity and depth of this version significantly enhance the experience, even when the material itself isn’t at its strongest.
In the end, Who’s Next did grow on me. Out of its nine tracks, five genuinely worked for me, while four landed firmly in “meh” territory. And since an album has to be judged as a whole, I can’t justify giving it more than an 8/10 (and even that feels quite generous given its inconsistency).
With the Beatles is a classic example of the band’s early, slightly naïve approach to love songs. The album leans heavily into simple romantic themes, which can feel a bit corny at times, but it suits the youthful energy the Beatles were projecting at this stage of their career.
One of the record’s strengths lies in its cover songs. The Beatles deliver solid and well-executed versions of non-original tracks, showing their tight musicianship and obvious influences, even if these songs don’t always feel essential to their legacy.
The album is short and efficiently put together, making it an easy and light listen from start to finish. It flows well and never overstays its welcome. However, this also contributes to one of its weaknesses: With the Beatles isn’t particularly memorable as a whole. While it’s enjoyable in the moment, few tracks truly linger after it ends.
I listened to the master from the Beatles in Mono edition (5099963379716). It’s a good-quality master that respects the original recordings, although it’s obvious that the material comes from early 1960s sessions—the age of the recordings is clearly noticeable in the sound.
That said, songs like “All My Loving” and “Money (That’s What I Want)” stand out as highlights, offering more energy and personality than the rest of the tracklist.
7/10
I went into Achtung Baby knowing it’s supposed to be that U2 album. You know, the bold reinvention, the artistic leap, the one critics keep bringing up like it personally changed their lives. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it to the end.
Not because it’s bad, nothing here is offensively awful, but because it’s painfully, relentlessly uniform. Track after track blends into a grey musical smoothie. The songs just… exist. They pass by politely, shake your hand, and leave absolutely no memory behind.
The obvious exception is “One”, which is genuinely great and fully deserves its legendary status. It’s emotional, well-written, and actually feels alive. Sadly, once that song ends, the album goes right back to sounding like Bono is singing from inside a fog machine.
Production-wise, the whole thing has a very lo-fi, murky feel that becomes tiring fast. It’s not raw in a cool way, it’s more like listening through a slightly broken speaker. I listened to the original 1991 CD (314-510 347-2), and the master itself is fine but completely unremarkable; because the sound is already so lo-fi, it barely feels any different from today’s ultra-compressed streaming or modern CD versions. I wouldn’t even put this on as background music while studying, because I’d either get bored or slowly fall asleep on my notes.
So yeah, I can’t fail it. There’s nothing terrible here, no musical crimes committed. But there’s also nothing that makes me want to come back, either. Competent, historic, and deeply unexciting.
5/10
Not bad enough to hate. Not good enough to finish.
…And Justice for All is one of Metallica’s most complex and demanding records, and also one of its most divisive. Musically, it’s a relentlessly dynamic album that rarely settles into comfortable patterns. The constant shifts in tempo, harmony, and rhythm keep the listener on edge, giving the record a progressive edge that rewards close attention. Tracks often evolve rather than repeat, which prevents the album from ever feeling stagnant or predictable.
That said, this ambition can also work against it. The arrangements are dense and occasionally overlong, and the famously dry, bass-light mix can make the album feel cold and fatiguing over extended listens. While this stark sound reinforces the album’s sense of tension and paranoia, it also strips some tracks of warmth and low-end impact.
I listened to the MFSL SuperVinyl master, which does a commendable job of extracting clarity and detail from the original mix. Instrument separation is improved and the overall presentation feels more controlled, though it can’t fully overcome the fundamental production choices.
Overall, …And Justice for All is an intellectually engaging album that rewards patience and repeated listens, even if it lacks the emotional immediacy of Metallica’s earlier work.
8/10
Let’s be honest: this album is a turd. A straight-up musical bs. The music is bad, the production is worse, and everything sounds like it was recorded while someone was actively stepping on a dying seagull hooked up to a cheap keyboard. Nothing here is tight, clean, or pleasant. It screeches, it wobbles, it actively assaults your ears.
And yet… it’s funny as hell.
This is music with the same energy as making a terrible decision on a night out purely for the story. You don’t like it, you know it’s wrong, but you do it anyway because it’ll be hilarious in retrospect. That’s The B-52’s. It’s not good, it’s just committed. Fully, shamelessly committed to being annoying.
“Rock Lobster” is the perfect example. It’s stupid, it’s unbearable, it’s catchy in the most cursed way possible. It sounds like a joke that goes on way too long, but that’s the joke. This whole album feels like shitpost music decades before shitposting existed: loud, dumb, ugly, and weirdly unforgettable.
So no, this album isn’t good. The production sucks, the songs are ridiculous, and listening to it sober feels like a mistake. But it is entertaining, in the same way bad ideas often are. You don’t respect it, you don’t recommend it, but you laugh, and sometimes that’s enough.
5/10
R O C K L O B S T E R
Note to my future self:
listen to this while absolutely obliterated
When I read that Zombie was recorded in Nigeria by a label called Coconut Records, I knew it would be either total BS or an absolute banger. Thankfully, it’s much closer to the latter.
On a recording level, it’s solid: raw, warm, and full of atmosphere. The groove is there, the horns bite, and everything sounds alive. Conceptually, it’s peak, funny, and fearless, turning the military into brainless “zombies” with brutal elegance.
Where it falls short is execution. Not in intention, but in skill. Parts feel loose in a way that isn’t fully intentional, and the band never quite shows the technical sharpness needed to elevate the idea. The groove holds, but the playing doesn’t always convince.
Still, the message, the vibe, and Fela’s presence do most of the heavy lifting. Flawed, a bit rough around the edges, but overall very enjoyable.
7/10.
Ten is a powerful and emotionally driven debut that helped define early ’90s rock. Eddie Vedder’s voice is the album’s emotional anchor, especially on tracks like “Alive,” “Black,” and “Jeremy,” which still hit hard years later.
I listened to the original CD release, and while the songwriting and performances remain strong, the mastering leaves something to be desired. The album lacks dynamic range, and the dense, compressed sound can make the epic moments feel flatter than they should. Musically effective rather than groundbreaking, Ten sometimes leans too heavily into polish and grandeur.
Still, its emotional weight and iconic songs secure its status as a classic.
8/10
Doolittle is one of those albums that I respect more than I genuinely enjoy. It’s not exactly my cup of tea, but I completely understand why it’s become such a sacred text in alternative rock history. The record lives in that constant tension between catchy, almost pop-leaning melodies and moments that feel like being shouted at by a deranged preacher. Sometimes it flows; other times it just yells, and very deliberately so.
Lyrically, it’s mostly grim, uncomfortable, and borderline grotesque. But that’s clearly the point. The songs seem to revel in unease, surreal violence, and general weirdness, and the ugliness is part of the charm. Doolittle doesn’t try to seduce you on first listen; it sort of pushes you away. This is very much an acquired taste kind of album: the first time through, you’re unlikely to fall in love, but slowly it starts to grow in you. One day you realize you know half the tracklist by heart, and not long after that, it’s somehow ended up in your collection.
I listened to the MFSL SACD 2033 version, which is a solid master with good dynamic range, though that quality isn’t always obvious, since the album’s whole aesthetic leans toward a raw, abrasive, scratchy sound. Polishing it too much would probably miss the point anyway. This is music that’s meant to feel slightly uncomfortable, like it’s always on the verge of falling apart.
All things considered, I admire Doolittle more than I love it. It’s influential, distinctive, and undeniably effective at what it sets out to do, but it still doesn’t fully click with me.
6.5/10 (as of today, first hearing ever)
Spiderland is the biggest piece of dogshit I’ve ever listened to, and I say that with full awareness that actual effort went into it. Someone had to think these ideas. Someone had to rehearse them. Someone had to record, mix, master, and at no point did anyone say, “Maybe this doesn’t need to exist.” For that alone, I can't grade it a 0/10.
Musically, this album sounds like a band actively trying to remove pleasure from rock music. The guitars creep around like they’re afraid of being noticed, the bass sulks, and the drums show up only to remind you that time is passing and you are not enjoying it. The vocals are half-spoken, half-muttered, as if the singer is embarrassed to be heard but insists on talking anyway.
Nothing resolves. Nothing satisfies. Every song feels like it’s building toward something and then decides not to, out of spite. It’s tense, awkward, and emotionally cold, like being trapped in a conversation with someone who insists this is “about the atmosphere.”
And yet, here’s the annoying part, I didn’t completely hate the experience. Not because it’s good, but because it’s committed. Spiderland believes in its own misery with absolute sincerity. It’s not accidental garbage; it’s carefully constructed, intentional discomfort. You can hear the thought, the labor, the decisions, even if all those decisions led directly to boredom and irritation.
So no, this is not a masterpiece. It’s not genius. It’s not even enjoyable. But it is the result of people working hard to make something this unwelcoming, and I respect the effort more than the outcome.
3/10.
I won’t recommend it.
I won’t defend it.
But I acknowledge that someone suffered to make me suffer, and I respect that.
Sweetheart of the Rodeo is an album I approached with some distance, mainly because country is not a genre I’m particularly drawn to. Still, taken on its own terms, it’s an album I generally enjoyed.
The record is quite homogeneous in sound and mood, maintaining a consistent style throughout. This could risk becoming monotonous, but its short length works in its favor. At just a minutes over half an hour, it never overstays its welcome and remains an easy, focused listen.
However, there isn’t much here that truly stands out. None of the tracks left a strong impression on me, and while the songwriting and performances are solid, the album feels more cohesive than memorable.
From a technical perspective, it’s very well done. I listened to the original 1968 vinyl pressing (CS 9670), and both the recording and mastering are of high quality, with a clear, warm sound that holds up very well.
Overall, Sweetheart of the Rodeo is a competent and well-produced album that I respect more than I connect with. A solid listen, even if it didn’t leave a lasting mark.
I probably would not come back to it tbh.
6/10
Iron Maiden’s self-titled debut is a confident and gritty introduction that presents the band in its most raw and street-level incarnation. The album doesn’t aim for grand ambition or stylistic diversity; instead, it focuses on establishing a clear identity built around sharp, no-nonsense riffs, a punk-inflected sense of urgency, and an aggressive attitude that sets it apart from many of its contemporaries. From the very beginning, there’s a feeling of momentum and hunger, as if the band is more concerned with making an impact than refining every idea to perfection.
In terms of songwriting, the record is a mixed but consistently solid package. There are several genuinely strong tracks that immediately stand out and hint at the melodic instincts and power that Iron Maiden would later develop in greater depth. Alongside these, some songs feel more “workmanlike” or transitional, serving the album’s flow rather than demanding attention on their own. That said, none of the material feels weak or poorly executed. The main limitation is a certain uniformity in tone: while the songs are clearly distinguishable, they often operate within the same sonic and emotional space, which can make the album feel less varied than later releases.
Where the album truly excels is in its sound. The original master and vinyl pressing (EMC 3330) are outstanding, delivering a warm, punchy and dynamic listening experience that perfectly suits the raw nature of the performances. The production enhances the album’s rough edge without muddying the instruments, allowing the energy of the band to come through naturally. While Iron Maiden may not be as ambitious, epic, or diverse as the band’s future classics, it remains a strong and enjoyable debut, one that has aged surprisingly well and stands as a compelling first chapter in their discography.
7.5/10
Kenza is the exact soundtrack that starts playing the second you step into a questionable phone shop or climb into a Pakistani uncle’s taxi at 2 a.m. that hypnotic, ultra-polished, zero-personality oriental raï-pop that’s been scientifically engineered to make you scroll TikTok faster while smelling shawarma.
It’s basically like if George Michael from the 90s had been born African, kept the mustache for life, and decided to drop raï bangers instead of soul-pop ballads. Same seductive driver pose next to the car, same “I’ve seen things” vibe, just swap the London minicab for a tuktuk and some oriental synths.
However, production is clean, mix is good and master is crisp. That I can appreciate (at least it doesn’t sound like it was recorded inside a washing machine).
2/10
The New Tango by Astor Piazzolla is a striking and refreshing experience, especially for a listener who may not be accustomed to tango or its modern interpretations. From the very first moments, the music feels bold and unconventional, breaking away from traditional expectations and opening the door to something far more exploratory.
What makes this album particularly compelling is how Piazzolla blends the emotional intensity of tango with elements of jazz and classical music. The result is a sound that feels both raw and sophisticated, familiar yet constantly surprising. There is a strong sense of tension and movement throughout the pieces, which keeps the listener engaged even when the structures feel unfamiliar.
Although this is not a style I usually gravitate toward, I found The New Tango to be very, very interesting. Its originality and expressive depth demand attention, and by the end, it becomes clear why Piazzolla’s work is considered so influential. This is not just tango, it is a reinvention of the genre, and a rewarding listen for anyone willing to step outside their musical comfort zone.
8/10
Lady Soul is an absolute banger, the kind of album that grabs you by the shoulders and makes it physically impossible to sit still. At just around 30 minutes, it feels almost unfairly short, especially when it works so well as a workday companion that turns your office chair into a dance floor. By the time it ends, you’re left thinking, That was it? Already?
Aretha Franklin’s voice is the undeniable centerpiece here, and it’s nothing short of incredible. She sounds powerful, confident, and completely at home, effortlessly switching between grit and elegance. Every note feels intentional, every phrase drenched in soul. Even decades later, her presence is magnetic.
That said, while the album is very enjoyable, it’s also quite homogeneous. The songs share a similar vibe and palette, but thankfully it never becomes tiring. Each track manages to carve out its own little pocket of personality, small shifts in mood, groove, or attitude that keep things engaging even if the overall sound remains consistent.
The age of the record does show. It’s well recorded for its time, but you can still hear the years in the production, which slightly dulls the impact compared to more modern recordings. More importantly, despite how much fun it is, Lady Soul doesn’t quite feel like an album that transmits something deeper or lasting. It’s a great time, a joyous listen, but not one that leaves a strong emotional or conceptual mark once it’s over.
For all that, it’s hard not to enjoy yourself while it’s playing. Just don’t expect it to linger long after the final note.
7.5/10
A historically significant live album whose reputation rests more on musicianship than on emotional or conceptual depth. The Allman Brothers Band display outstanding ensemble chemistry, with fluid twin-guitar interplay and a rhythm section capable of sustaining long, disciplined improvisations. The performances feel confident and natural, capturing the band at a clear creative high.
However, much of the album plays more like the kind of experience you’d get at a jazz-bar–style live show than a carefully shaped album production. The extended jams work well in the room, feeding off atmosphere and immediacy, but on record they can feel meandering and interchangeable. That said, because it functions more as a live document than as a fully realized album, and because it becomes long and homogeneous over time:
5.5/10
Fred Neil is one of those albums that sounds great while somehow doing very little with that greatness. The production is warm, the grooves are loose and inviting, and Neil’s voice has that gravelly, late-night wisdom that makes you lean in. On a purely sonic level, it’s pleasant, sometimes even seductive. You can imagine this record playing in a smoky room where everyone pretends they’re listening very carefully.
But then you actually listen. And wait. And keep waiting. The songs drift, circle the block, and never quite park. What should feel hypnotic ends up feeling half-finished, like a jam session that forgot to become a song. There’s atmosphere for days, but ideas are on a strict ration. It’s not bad because it’s ugly; it’s bad because it’s boring in slow motion. Dogshit? Harsh, but let’s say conceptually dogshit, executed with a very nice guitar tone.
In the end, Fred Neil is a record you respect more than you enjoy. It sounds good, it feels authentic, and it absolutely refuses to reward your attention. Five out of ten: pleasant on the ears, empty in the soul, music that lounges confidently while accomplishing almost nothing.
5/10
Screamadelica is one of those albums whose reputation almost precedes the listening experience. It sits at a strange crossroads between rock, acid house, dub, and gospel-tinged psychedelia, and even decades later it still feels oddly alien if you’re not used to that blend. That said, the album is undeniably interesting, even when it doesn’t fully click.
Overall, I enjoyed it more than I expected. It’s a weird record, often drifting rather than driving, more concerned with atmosphere and texture than with traditional songcraft. Tracks like “Loaded” or “Come Together” feel less like songs and more like environments you step into. That quality makes the album surprisingly effective as background music for light work: immersive, steady, and unobtrusive without being dull. However, that same strength is also its weakness. It rarely demands attention in a way that makes me want to actively choose it for pure listening pleasure.
One area where the album clearly falls short is the mastering, at least in the version I’ve heard. I wasn’t able to get hold of a MOV vinyl pressing or a well-regarded CD edition, so I listened to the Tidal master, which is supposedly the same as the 20th anniversary CD. Unfortunately, it’s fairly underwhelming. The sound is fatiguing, with limited dynamic range, and the mix often feels compressed in a way that blunts the album’s hypnotic potential. Given how much this record relies on space, groove, and gradual build-ups, a more dynamic master could have elevated the experience significantly.
In the end, Screamadelica earns respect more than affection. It’s a solid and sometimes fascinating listen, especially in the right context, but not something I’d reach for on my own just for enjoyment. Historically important, stylistically bold, and occasionally captivating, but personally distant.
6/10
Going into 1999 as a first exposure to Prince is tricky, and honestly, I get the disappointment. Prince’s reputation is massive, innovator, virtuoso, genre-bender, and that weight of expectation works against this album if you’re coming in fresh. Rather than feeling revelatory, 1999 can feel bloated, repetitive, and weirdly exhausting.
The album is packed with ideas, but very few of them fully land. There are decent tracks scattered throughout, yet none that truly justify the legendary status Prince is often given. A lot of the material leans heavily on early-80s synths and drum machines, which today sound dated rather than charming. Instead of timeless funk or pop brilliance, much of the record feels locked into its era, and not in a flattering way.
One of the biggest issues is length. At over 70 minutes, 1999 overstays its welcome badly. Songs drag on without developing enough to justify their runtime, and what might have worked as a tighter, punchier album ends up feeling indulgent. Prince’s confidence as a creator is obvious, but here it crosses into excess. You start wanting the album to end long before it actually does.
Lyrically and thematically, the record flirts with provocation and hedonism, but rarely says anything compelling enough to sustain interest. There’s attitude, sure, but not much emotional or musical payoff. For a first-time listener, it’s hard to connect with the material beyond surface-level curiosity.
Not great, no terrible (enough no fail it):
5/10
Mama’s Gun works best when it’s minding its own business in the background, playing quietly while you wash dishes or stare into the void. At low volume, it behaves: warm, inoffensive, like music that apologizes for existing. The moment you turn it up or decide to actually listen, the album immediately starts making bad decisions.
The production is the main culprit here. Everything sounds aggressively compressed, like the entire mix was put in a hydraulic press and told to “feel the groove.” There’s basically no dynamic range—just vibes, then louder vibes. And the bass? Completely unhinged. The low end is so exaggerated it stops being musical and becomes a physical event. My fucking subwoofer started jumping around the room like it was trying to escape the mix and apply for witness protection.
Vocally, Badu is doing her thing: smooth, expressive, clearly in control, but she’s trapped inside this dense sonic soup. Her voice keeps trying to float to the surface, only to get dragged back down by the bass and compression like it owes them money. Any sense of intimacy gets lost somewhere between “thick” and “why does this sound like it’s being played through a pillow?”
The arrangements suggest groove, nuance, and intention, but the sound treatment flattens everything into the same mushy plane. It’s less “organic and warm” and more “sonically overcooked".
In the end, Mama’s Gun is perfectly serviceable as low-volume background music, the kind that exists but doesn’t ask questions. As a focused listening experience, though, it’s sabotaged by overcompression and a bass response that should probably be registered as domestic violence. The ideas are there. The mix said “nah".
5/10
My first hearing of this album and this band, it feels like emotional archaeology: delicate, important, and miserable to experience in real time. The songs are beautiful in a “please don’t make me feel this much on a weekday” way. Everything drifts, nothing lands, and the sadness is so tasteful it almost asks for applause. I respect it deeply. I am also bored and stressed.
The master is bad, and not in a charming way. Even the Master Omnivore Test Pressing sounds like listening to a chamber orchestra through a half-open car window on the highway. The highs scrape, the mids are oddly hollow, and the lows feel like a rumor. Instruments coexist but do not acknowledge each other, like coworkers who only communicate via passive-aggressive emails.
In the end, it’s a shit album with a legendary status that sounds like it’s actively resisting being played. An album you’re supposed to love, preserved in audio conditions that feel legally questionable.
5/10
(song writing is not even half-bad, tho)
Sheer Heart Attack is a good, energetic album that captures Queen at their most aggressive and playful. It’s loud, colorful, and unapologetically over the top, blending hard rock punch with theatrical flair. Not everything is perfectly balanced, but the attitude and momentum carry it far.
The highs are undeniable. Songs like “Brighton Rock” and “Stone Cold Crazy” are fast, sharp, and powerful, with Brian May’s guitars cutting through the mix and Roger Taylor driving everything forward with real force. “Killer Queen” stands out for its elegance and confidence, showing the band’s flair for style and drama without losing bite. On vinyl, especially a WLP CSM pressing, the album sounds fantastic: thick guitars, clear separation, and a raw energy that really comes alive.
Still, the album isn’t flawless. A few tracks feel more like experiments than fully developed ideas. They’re not bad, just less memorable, and they slightly disrupt the flow. This unevenness keeps Sheer Heart Attack from being a top-tier Queen album, even if it never becomes boring.
Overall, Sheer Heart Attack is classic, potent Queen: bold, noisy, and full of character. Some songs hit hard, others barely leave a mark, but as a whole it’s an exciting listen, especially on vinyl.
7.5/10
Let's Stay Together works mainly because of Al Green himself. His voice is smooth, controlled, and emotionally convincing, carrying the song almost effortlessly. The groove is relaxed and pleasant, and the production feels warm without being distracting.
The problem is that the song doesn’t go much further than that. The melody circles the same ideas without developing, and the lyrics are extremely straightforward—romantic, yes, but also predictable. Once the mood is set, there’s little reason to stay fully engaged, especially on repeat listens.
It’s enjoyable and easy on the ears, but it plays things too safe. Strong vocals and atmosphere keep it afloat, while the lack of depth and musical risk hold it back.
6/10
Listening to Rum Sodomy & The Lash feels like being trapped in a pub where the floor is sticky, the accordion is legally intoxicated, and every song is determined to shout sea shanties directly into your soul whether you consent or not.
The vocals sound like he’s wrestling while talking loudly through a megaphone submerged in whiskey. Charming? Heh. Pleasant? Only if your idea of pleasure includes tinnitus and the smell of regret. The band barrels forward with such enthusiasm that subtlety is left face-down in a puddle outside the pub.
I wouldn't notice if you played just one song in loop bc they all sound the same. Altough, it has some "character". But so does a raccoon with a drum kit, it doesn’t mean I want to hear it for forty minutes. By the end, you don’t feel moved; you feel like you survived a 1700's pirate raid.
2/10
Beyond the first shock, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back reveals itself as a chaotic but fascinating experience. The beats hit hard, the bass feels alive, and everything sounds sharp and crispy, almost like the album is yelling at you on purpose. As a first-time hip hop listener, it can feel like trying to read subtitles while running a marathon. Still, even when you don’t fully catch the lyrics, the energy and attitude come through loud and clear. It’s demanding, a bit overwhelming, but never boring.
7/10
At Folsom Prison is a raw, iconic live album that captures Johnny Cash at his most direct and uncompromising. While the overall musical style can feel a bit repetitive across the tracklist, the songs themselves are consistently strong and carry a distinctive charm that keeps the listening experience engaging. The real centerpiece, though, is Cash’s voice, deep, authoritative, and emotionally loaded, which commands the room and gives every song a sense of gravity and authenticity.
Listening to the SACD version elevates the album even further. The soundstage is remarkably immersive, making it feel as if the concert is happening right in your living room. Audience reactions, ambience, and Cash’s presence are rendered with impressive realism, reinforcing the live energy that defines the album. Despite its stylistic uniformity, At Folsom Prison remains a powerful and enjoyable record, especially when experienced in a high-quality format.
7.5/10
Fetch the Bolt Cutters feels less like a carefully produced studio album and more like an experimental diary accidentally uploaded to streaming services. On first listen, the production can genuinely sound like something stitched together in GarageBand with stock samples, odd percussion, and deliberately rough textures. The moment you discover that, yes, it was largely made with GarageBand, the reaction is half disbelief, half “ah… that explains everything.”
To be fair, Fiona Apple clearly has a strong and expressive voice, and there are flashes of interesting ideas scattered throughout the album. Unfortunately, those ideas rarely come together into a coherent musical ensemble. Instead, the arrangements often feel chaotic and undercooked, as if musical structure was intentionally abandoned halfway through. At times it sounds less like bold minimalism and more like a five-year-old enthusiastically mashing an iPad keyboard after stealing it from their parent.
The album’s rawness and DIY ethos will surely appeal to listeners who value artistic intent over listenability, but for others it can be an exhausting experience. In short: some talent, questionable execution, and a record that feels far more interesting to talk about than to actually sit through.
Shut uuuuuuup. Is so shit.
The World Is a Ghetto by War is an album whose reputation slightly outweighs the actual listening experience. The band’s musicianship and their blend of funk, Latin, and jazz are undeniable, and when they keep things focused, most notably on “The Cisco Kid”, the album really works. In those moments, the grooves are tight, the hooks are clear, and the performances feel purposeful rather than indulgent.
The problem is the album’s lack of restraint. It frequently drifts into overlong jam sessions, stretching simple ideas far past their impact and draining the momentum established at the start. Even the title track, despite its strong atmosphere and concept, loses force through repetition and extended solos. For me, it’s a record full of strong ideas and talent that needed firmer editing, making it a solid but ultimately unspectacular listen.
6/10
This album sounds like Michael Kiwanuka recorded it inside a warm blanket while nodding slowly and saying “yeah… this grooves.” And honestly? He’s not wrong.
KIWANUKA is very lo-fi, like “someone spilled coffee on the mix and decided it was a vibe.” Everything is dusty, soft, and kind of blurry. Sometimes it feels intentional and deep. Other times it feels like the album is afraid of being loud or doing too much. Wake up bro, turn the lights on.
BUT. The groove? Yeah, the groove is doing WORK. Basslines are walking confidently, drums are locked in, and even when the songs kind of melt into each other, your head is still bobbing like “ok fine, I’m still here.” It’s perfect background music for staring at the ceiling and thinking you’re the main character.
There are really good ideas all over this thing. You can hear moments where the songs could absolutely take off… and then they just kinda don’t. It’s like edging but for music. The vibes are there, the soul is there, but the album refuses to fully commit to going hard.
End result: respectable, groovy, tasteful, slightly sleepy. An album you nod at and say “yeah this is good” instead of screaming “THIS IS INSANE.”
6.5/10
There’s an undeniable swagger to the Pretenders' debut album, mostly thanks to Chrissie Hynde’s effortlessly cool vocal delivery and the band's tight, new wave-meets-punk energy. After sitting down with it, I can clearly see why it's considered a staple of its era, even if it isn't an absolutely flawless ride from front to back. For this listen, I spun a 1st UK pressing on vinyl, and I have to say, it is absolutely fantastic. Both the pressing quality and the mastering are top-notch, providing a warmth, detail, and dynamic punch that completely elevates the entire listening experience.
The album is packed with some genuinely great tracks. Songs like "Brass in Pocket" and "Kid" are absolute standouts, catchy, sharp, and totally timeless. "Precious" sets an incredible tone right out of the gate with its raw, biting attitude, while the guitar work from James Honeyman-Scott gives the whole record a fantastic, jangly edge. The highs on this project are incredibly high, showcasing a band that clearly knew exactly what their sound was from day one.
That being said, the reason it doesn't quite reach that perfect masterpiece status for me is that the momentum isn't always sustained perfectly. A few of the deeper cuts tend to fade a bit into the background compared to the sheer, undeniable hooks of the main singles. It's not bad filler by any means, but it does make the pacing feel a little uneven at times.
Overall, it's a remarkably strong debut. Even with a few slight lulls, the highlights are just too good to ignore. I will definitely be coming back to this album in the future to revisit those killer tracks and soak in that signature attitude.
7.5/10
Felt Mountain feels like the opening credits to a James Bond film, sleek, icy, cinematic, and wrapped in an air of retro-futurist glamour. That comparison isn’t a criticism in itself; in fact, it’s one of the album’s strongest initial hooks. The lush strings, whispery vocals, and shadowy electronic arrangements create an immediately seductive atmosphere.
The problem is consistency to a fault. Nearly every track leans into the same spy-noir aesthetic, and while the mood is impeccably crafted, it rarely evolves. What begins as elegant and mysterious gradually becomes predictable. The album prioritizes texture and ambience over dynamic songwriting, which can leave the listener admiring the surface rather than feeling deeply engaged.
Alison Goldfrapp’s voice is undeniably striking, cool, controlled, and otherworldly, but it’s often used more as another instrument than as a narrative force. Tracks blur together, reinforcing the album’s cohesion but also limiting its emotional range. There are moments of beauty and sophistication throughout, yet few surprises.
In the end, Felt Mountain is stylish and confident, but a bit too comfortable in its own aesthetic. It’s an album that knows exactly what it wants to be, and refuses to be anything else.
6/10
