1001 Albums Summary

All the components of success are in place — a pleasant voice, reverences to old Motown releases in sound, the lyrics are mostly about love... At the same time, the album owes a considerable share of its popularity to the people who made the sound here, Mark Ronson and Salaam Remy; the songs from the former, in my opinion, came out more interesting. The audience and critics rated the record extremely highly, and overall it's not bad, but I don't understand this degree of enthusiasm, maybe it's just not for me.

You can have different opinions about Back to Black, but at least it never gets boring; Frank is an hour long, and halfway through I was already tired of these repetitive homages to Sinatra. Another reason to consider that it was Ronson who made the second album a cult classic.

Definitely not The Doors' worst album, but for me, not their best either. Jim Morrison's blues obsession in his later years likely led to the band's shift in sound on this album; in my opinion, they shouldn't have done that; that's not what made The Doors great. Some songs are downright boring, and The Black Keys' take on "Crawling King Snake" is a better choice (old ones, don't hold it against me). However, the entire album is worth listening to, especially the last song, "Riders on the Storm." Simply magical. Ray Manzarek's keyboard solo, the sound of the waves... And Jim's strained vocals are very fitting here; he may have lived a sinful life, but he said goodbye beautifully.

I'll say right away that this is a mood-based record, and now, with the black-and-white palette outside, is the perfect time to listen to it. It's hardly depressing, but melancholic, yes. Let's just say any of the songs would be suitable for the title theme of a James Bond film. The entire album has a consistent tempo, the structure of each song is very similar, and surprisingly, it manages not to get boring. Occasionally, the jazz samples are diluted with sudden, but not at all unnecessary, hip-hop (or nu-metal, depending on your preference) DJ ​​scratches. On the last song, these scratches are replaced by a lingering guitar riff. Beth Gibbons's voice, although not the strongest, is the icing on this melancholy cake.

Typical pop music of its era. Jack Antonoff has cranked up the most generic production from ten years ago. If the song is slow, it's built on a kick drum that sounds like a pillow being hit, and a snare drum that sounds like a slap on the thigh. If the song is fast, you remember how fast pop songs sounded in 2015-2017, like you're attending an aerobics class. And Lorde herself, for me, has always been a one-hit wonder, and she'll probably remain so — this album has a couple of earworms, then she'll go off into some other realm.

Their second album was a springboard for them, and unlike the raw, punk-rock first, it emphasizes reggae (as reflected in the title). Sting, who hasn't yet fully developed his style, still vocally mimics Bob Marley, and the backbone of the music is, of course, Stewart Copland, whose energetic yet relaxed drums run like a skeleton throughout the record. It's a shame he's not quite as accomplished a songwriter, and the three fillers he contributed prevent me from giving the album the highest score.

It's impossible to pinpoint the approximate year of the album's release based on the cover alone — it could have been 80s new wavers, 2000s indie rockers, or today's Pitchfork regulars. The same could be said about the music — it's a playful, synth-heavy blend of funk and post-punk in its more positive form. Something similar could have been played by Talking Heads, The Smiths, Blossoms, or Parcels — the boundaries are quite thin. Perhaps this desire to please everyone at once backfired on the band, as they didn't last long. Nothing special, just a pleasant album that's good to listen to while doing something unobtrusive; sometimes that's more than enough.

The best thing about this album is its bright and unusual cover. The same can't be said for the music; it's simply uninteresting. No, for its time, everything sounds incredibly organic; I'm sure the recording process was like this: they went into the studio, got some joints, started jamming, eventually chose the best options, and off they went. That worked perfectly in California in the 1960s, but not anymore. The main thing is I don't like Janis Joplin's vocals (who went on to a solo career after this album, but for obvious reasons, not for long). It feels like she's in two states: either she's screaming her head off, or she's talking like Marge Simpson. It's a matter of taste. I understand why this album made the list, but I don't plan on listening to it again.

All I knew about Rod Stewart was that he had signature haircut, a plethora of flamboyant, bordering on tasteless, suits, and a couple of disco hits. It turned out Stewart wasn't so simple. Firstly, he launched his solo career while still being in the Faces, under two contracts. Secondly, on this album, almost entire band plays with him, yet it was released as a solo album. And thirdly, in keeping with the fine tradition of the 60s and 70s, two-thirds of the album consists of covers of songs by other, already established artists. There's the secret to his success! As for the sound, there's no hint of the disco that would follow a decade later — it's upbeat rock 'n' roll with an acoustic guitar and a bluesy edge. "Dylan-esque," I would have said, if the lyrics weren't mostly about past and current women. I don't really like Dylan, but this would offend him.

When I was young, I thought a midlife crisis came when you started listening with pleasure to the solo projects of Genesis members. Well, here it is, apparently. This is the first time I've listened to this album and Peter Gabriel's music in general properly; coincidentally, it's his most successful record. He'd been out of Genesis for ten years when it came out, so it's no surprise that almost nothing of the old, abstruse prog remains here. Instead, there's a wealth of varied percussion (primarily from southern countries), some funk motifs, a few ballads, and even a touch of ambient. In the end, it sounds as if the less pretentious U2 were combined with the more upbeat Tears for Fears, topped off with the soundtrack to The Lion King. A very good album, and it was a pleasure to begin my acquaintance with this artist's work.

This album is the quintessence of old country. Nothing superfluous, everything is as it should be: acoustic guitar, the occasional violin, stories about the homeland and a man (loved or no longer loved), told in a singsong voice by beautiful female voices. Genre-wise, this album wasn't even recorded by a supergroup, but a hypergroup. All the vocalists came from classic country backgrounds, but over time, they took different paths and became very famous along the way. They respected each other's music, which is why they decided to make a whole album together, paying tribute to their roots. It took them a long time, ten years with breaks, but they finally finished it. This album is not for everyone; it might seem boring towards the end, but for me, those vocal harmonies gave me a sense of calm.

I have a good feeling about the band, but I've never listened to this album. It was the right decision, and I won't listen to it again. Beastie Boys music generally has one purpose: to pump you up. This album fails. It's monotonous, repetitive, and feels like the guys are just yelling at you on the street for an hour. It sounds bad: the entire album, except for the vocals, is made up of samples, which is impressive, but it feels like the final recording was done on a tape recorder. I read the reviews, and they praise the lyrics. Probably deservedly so, if you're American, but from my perspective, it seems like some kind of pedantic rant with a bunch of obscure references. Who added this album to the list, and why? It doesn't even work as background music, and I don't understand who listens to it consciously. Very disappointed.

Before listening, I decided to read a short biography of Miles Davis; it's certainly impressive. He lived a relatively short life, but managed to play with a large number of renowned musicians and, most importantly, became the founder of several jazz styles. This record is a collection of his works from 1949-1950, which later became the foundation of the subgenre known as cool jazz (hence the album's title). The problem is that jazz gives you two options: either you're in the know, or it's completely out of your league. I'm going with the latter. The album is just over half an hour long, and it's all seemingly different, yet for me, it's all the same. It's not easy to listen to, and the slight feeling of being a bohemian in a 1950s American restaurant quickly becomes tiresome. Star for the fact that the author became a colossus of the genre during his lifetime and remains one to this day, and a star for the fact that, overall, this album can be pleasant background music for work, cooking dinner, or even dinner itself.

In the 1980s, disco music was considered (undeservedly) about as trashy as most songs of Billboard's top ten are today. The members of Daft Punk didn't think so, and based their first album largely on samples from the genre, as well as breakbeat, techno, indie rock—everything that was popular in the 1990s. The problem is, it doesn't sound like a coherent album. Initially, the duo just wanted to release a few songs, but they found they had enough material for a double LP, so they decided to strike while the iron was hot. That's probably why for every catchy song they slapped on two long, repetitive ones. It's not such a big deal, though — after all, for the band, it was a trial run, literally "homework." They would release their best album four years later, but the authors of this book, for some unknown reason, decided to ignore it. You shouldn't do that.

In my opinion, David Bowie is the most overrated artist in the history of rock music. He's a talented and interesting musician, but critics (including the authors of this book, who included a third of his entire discography) are of the opinion that you should idolize him, otherwise you're a trash and don't understand anything about music. But this album truly deserves to be added to the Bowie pantheon; it's his finest work. Everything works against the grain: there's nothing special here, the melodies are quite simple, and yet the overall mood is incredible — bright and energetic. The album seems conceptual, telling a unified story, but at the time the songs were written, it wasn't meant to be; they were simply arranged in the right order. It's still a great listen fifty years later, but when it came out, people must have been absolutely floored by it. A classic, in short, worth listening to and re-listening to.

They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but sometimes you should judge an album by its cover. This is the case. Completely unrelated, hastily stitched photographs on a sleeve, and the same goes for the music. Half an hour of sound, like a budding band rehearsing in a garage, with a bleating vocalist, an electric guitar strummed as if they'd never picked it up before, and two drum solos as separate tracks. This is probably how the Pixies would have played if everyone in the band had been on desomorphine. This album wasn't included in the first edition of the book. Who later decided that I should listen to this album before I die? What is this person's life like now, how are they doing?

Ministry is essentially a one-man band, led by Al Jourgensen. A fascinating man, he released his debut album, riding the wave of new wave and synth-pop popularity, but quickly realized he wasn't interested in this sugar-coated thing, changed labels amidst a scandal, and started doing something of his own. This album is the quintessence of "his own," more energetic and angry. Ministry may not have invented industrial, but I'm sure Trent Reznor, Rob Zombie, and Rammstein, who clearly ripped off the riff for "Du Hast" from the second track, have all heard this album many times. A good, rollercoaster-like release for fans of heavier music. If not for the somewhat monotonous and mediocre ending (two songs), it would easily have earned another star.

Imagine a new band releasing a debut album where the entire first half is filled with such blistering hits that you can't even catch a breath? You don't even have to imagine it; the album is right there. The second side isn't bad, but it certainly pales in comparison to the first. Nevertheless, its blend of post-punk, Britpop, neon synths, incredibly dense bass, and pleasant, if not particularly profound, lyrics made this album one of the pillars of 2000s indie rock. Its main and only flaw is how good it is; twenty years later, The Killers still haven't quite managed to overcome this, and later they completely retreated into American Springsteen-esque territory. However, some other bands haven't achieved even half the awesomeness of this single album in their entire careers, so there's no point in complaining.

As they said in the film "Crossroads," "Blues is when a good man feels bad because he's thinking about the woman he once loved." This album follows that thesis roughly halfway; the other half is full of upbeat, I'd even say downright danceable songs. B.B. King is a giant of the genre, no matter how you look at it, and here he shines. It doesn't matter that half the songs here aren't even his, they're so-called "blues standards." What matters is how he performs them for half an hour, practically without a break (remember, this is a recorded concert), how he improvises, and how the band understands these improvisations from the first note. The audience is wild in the background, which adds a bit more energy to the record. A classic of the genre, I can't say the album has stuck in my head, but it was a pleasure to listen to.

Surely everyone has heard the so-called "new wave of post-punk"? Yes, yes, be it the now-hyped Geese, a slightly toned-down Black Country, New Road, or, at worst, Sorry. Many people like it, but for me, it almost always comes off as pompous and pretentious. The most interesting thing is that a band I hadn't heard before, Pere Ubu, made similar music almost forty years ago. The same rather jagged guitars, the same abundance of unusual instruments and noises, the same declarations instead of singing. What's even more interesting is that I rather liked this album! They're certainly overdoing it with the experimentalism in places, but for the most part, it's decent post-punk, very unusual for its time. True, sometimes you still can't tell if it's the music playing in your headphones or a snowplow humming outside your window; however, that's par for the course for the genre.

Trent Reznor seems to have spent his entire life experimenting with sound, and while Pretty Hate Machine was dominated by synthesizers and Broken by aggressive guitar sounds, this album incorporates the best of both. It's almost an hour of industrial history from a furious lyrical protagonist who hates everything around him, and especially himself, ultimately ending his own life. The lyrics delve into those corners of the brain and soul that you'd rather not think about, and the music sometimes forces you to vent your anger with its thunderous sound, and sometimes simply frightens you; this is aided by periodic rustling, screams, creaks, and other seemingly otherworldly sounds. But there's nothing otherworldly here; this album was written by a living person, based on his feelings, and that fact sends a chill down your spine. I would strongly advise against listening to it in an unstable emotional state.

New wave, art rock, funk rock, post-punk, dance rock, afrofunk, worldbeat, psychedelic funk... "Is such a plethora of genres really necessary to desribe this album?" you might ask. Yes, and yes again! That's the magic of this work; its music is all of these things at once. African drums mix with funky bass, typical post-punk guitar lines are superimposed over danceable disco rhythms... Remove even one of these elements, and the entire album would crumble, but precisely because Talking Heads decided to combine the incompatible, it not only sounds coherent, but is considered by many to be their best work. I'll still deduct one point — despite the maximum energy of the first half, some songs could have been shortened a bit; it feels like you're stuck in an endless loop. And Brian Eno wouldn't be himself if he didn't shove some semi-ambient stuff at the end. Otherwise, I recommend it!

I listened to this album for the first time. I'd previously avoided it because, for some unknown reason, I thought it was elevator music. I know, I know — incredible ignorance. This is more suitable for a stroll through a dimly lit park at night, enjoying a sunset by the sea, a slow dance with your girlfriend, the backdrop to an old French film, or, ultimately, a theoretical moon safari. And I wouldn't mind a leisurely ride to the seventieth floor in a panoramic elevator to this album. French electronic music: minimalist and rich, psychedelic and soothing, vintage and futuristic all at once. If I could describe this album in one word, I'd say "elegant." An elegant album, not for everyday listening or for every mood.

You'd think a ship would sail as it's named, and an album with that name from a band with that name would be familiar to many. Had you heard anything about it before? Personally, I hadn't. But it turned out to be a positive rock record, clearly inspired by The Beatles and the entire British wave of the sixties. Indeed, had it been released five years earlier, it would have been received with a bang. It would have been equally well received had it been released ten years later, when R.E.M. and U2 were gaining momentum — it would have fit right in with them, too. In the early seventies, however, no one really wanted that kind of music, and the album's release went virtually unnoticed. It's a pleasant release, well-preserved to this day, well-recorded (I especially liked the acoustic parts). All the songs on it are good, but that's about it — none of them offer anything particularly groundbreaking.

For some reason, I've always confused this band with The War On Drugs, even though musically they have virtually no connection. Probably because I just find both bands boring. Here's their self-titled debut album, which journalists raved about — and there you have it, an 87 on Metacritic is no joke. It's less than forty minutes long, but those forty minutes felt like over an hour to me. Perhaps it's because all the songs follow the same pattern — acoustic guitar, bass drum, and drawn-out, church-like chants. The cover art also conveys this mood; listening to it makes you feel like a lumberjack living in the 16th century. Mumford & Sons, if they were dull, basically. It's probably a decent release, just not my thing.

Personally, I feel a sense of calm when listening to this record, primarily due to the combination of Ray Manzarek's psychedelic organ and Jim Morrison's hypnotic vocals. However, it was only after learning a few details about it that I discovered its true greatness. For example, the band never had a studio bassist; Manzarek played the bass part as a second line — a masterful feat. Furthermore, the album was recorded in just a few days, with most of the songs recorded in one take. And most importantly, the engineer's wisdom — he barely touched the final recording — made it sound as if the band were performing live. This is the main strength of this music, and I hadn't yet fully grasped the apparently metaphor-filled lyrics. The Doors' best album and, arguably, one of the best debut albums ever.

"All the instruments played on this album are acoustic" — that's the proudly stated phrase on the album cover. There's certainly something to brag about: in addition to the standard folk acoustic guitar and tambourine, there's also double bass, banjo, orchestral bells, bongos, and even an Indian sitar. Unusual instruments create unusual music, and in addition to the genre's classic motifs, collectively known as "medieval tavern," there's also something reminiscent of a mass, and a sense of improvisation, where each instrument seems to be playing its own part, yet the result is beautiful. An interesting album, somewhat ahead of its time.

While listening to this album, the question "Where do I know that voice from?" kept running through my head. I Googled the artist's name — and lo and behold, it's Chef from South Park! However, Chef would be thirty years away, but for now, let's consider the fact that this forty-five-minute record consists of only four songs. At that length, it might seem like prog rock, but no, it's soul, albeit a rather unusual one. Moreover, two songs on this album (that's half of it) are covers, which Hayes managed to stretch out two or three times longer, yet they never get boring or lose their appeal: this is beautiful, somewhat pompous music, perfect for a candlelit dinner. The record is almost sixty years old, but it doesn't feel that old at all; it's hard to believe it was recorded that long ago. I think that's one of the hallmarks of quality.

David Bowie died on January 10th, two days after the release of Blackstar. And I believe the fact that it's his swan song is the only reason it's even on this list. I can just imagine the editors thinking, "We've added eight Bowie albums to the book, so how can we not include the last one?" There's nothing wrong with that, but it's important to keep this in mind — personally, I found almost nothing I liked about Bowie here. The album is too experimental, even for him; the saxophone wafts through almost every song, and if you add some distortion to some of the tracks, you'd almost sound like Lightning Bolt. But what really gets you through the album is that you can hear Bowie's weight in his vocals, how he knows he doesn't have much time left in this world. I didn't really experience anything special while listening, but I can't give it a lower rating.

Unpopular opinion: this album may have been innovative when it was released, but it hasn't held up very well. Yes, perhaps thirty-five years ago the mix of reggae, hip-hop, and soul sounded novel; overall, it still sounds good, but, firstly, many bands have emerged who are making this kind of music just as good, and in some places even better, and secondly, sometimes the songs drag on unnecessarily. The album's cohesion also suffers, and Del Naja has never hidden the fact that they simply recorded demos in the studio and then simply brought in guest vocalists. Ultimately, the music becomes mere background music. It's a cult classic, but I don't find it appealing. Additional star for the rich bass lines, but overall it was a bit boring to listen to.

In the movie High Fidelity the main character puts on a (different) The Beta Band album in a record store and says, "I'm going to sell five copies." It's immediately obvious that the film is fictional — I doubt anyone in real life would buy the album after seeing something like that. Similar artists include Beck and The Flaming Lips; they're right on target: it's lo-fi electronica with occasional guitars, a bit monotonous in some ways. I don't know how else to describe this music, but I can say that after this album's release, the band was booked as opener for Radiohead tour, which might give some insight. A very uneven record. Sometimes it sounds pleasant, sometimes it's so dull that you want to turn it off. At first, I wanted to give it three stars, but then I remembered the book's title and thought, "Did I really need to listen to this album before I die? Naah..."

I have a positive attitude toward the Wu-Tang Clan and all its members and understand their contribution to the genre, but I'll admit without hesitation that I don't like most of hip-hop for a very simple reason. What's the most important thing in hip-hop? Lyrics, of course. For me, lyrics have always been secondary, and here, as not a native speaker, even knowing the language, it's really hard for me to evaluate the author's intent — I still don't understand a bunch of references, even though the lyrics were right there on my phone screen while I was listening. On the other hand, music as such is minimal in hip-hop: it's just background music, a sample taken and then looped throughout the song. If you don't focus on the lyrics, it gets boring very quickly. So, for hip-hop, I have one criterion: rocking / not rocking (there are exceptions, of course). Does this album rock? Well, it rocks, but it definitely won't rock for fifty minutes.

When I saw I was supposed to listen to this album today, I automatically thought, "Well, here's another Bowie album, added to the list simply because of the author's name; we've been there, we know." When an artist releases an album forty years after their peak, you don't expect much from them: they're supposed to be doing something to keep from becoming completely ossified. Well, that one is a completely different story! It features the glam that made Bowie famous, funk rock, and even slightly heavier alternative, all elegantly crafted, perfectly in keeping with the artist's style, his signature feel. Add to that the fact that this was Bowie's first album in ten years; I can imagine the shock of those who also thought it was just another record from the veteran, and the impression it had on the younger generation, who had barely heard of him before. A great comeback and a simply great album that still sounds very fresh. Pleasantly surprised!

Alternative country... The question immediately arises: "Alternative to what?" Well, probably to traditional country. "And what is the alternative?" It's a bit more complicated. It's well known that the main themes of classic country are homeland, love, family, work. Alternative country is about the same thing, but with a touch of negativity, depression... Emo-country, basically. This album could be called just that: emo-country. Songs in which Gillian Welch expresses her feelings in a slightly dark manner — love, longing for the past, admiration for Elvis. Nothing superfluous, just her pleasant voice and acoustic guitar — these are more like poems than songs. Boring? Perhaps, the fifteen-minute last song alone is worth it. Will I listen to this album again? Probably not. Did I like it? Yes, I did. If your soul is yearning for something calm and acoustic, give it a chance.

The album cover already hints at the kind of music we're in for — pretentiously but rather stylishly dressed, the moustachioed, hairy guys immediately suggest classic rock from the late 1960s. When you learn that the hairy guys are English, their sound is completely shaped in your head. In fact, the album isn't quite that simple. It begins with a decidedly un-British "southern" rock sound, then gradually transitions into psychedelia, all the while maintaining its acoustic core. This is where they stumbled, overcomplicating things. In some songs, you get the feeling that each member is trying to steal the show, trying to make their part the focal point; as a result, the ear doesn't know what to listen to. When you learn that half the songs were written by the guitarist and the other half by the keyboardist, the reasons for this discrepancy become clear. It's a decent record, a pleasure to listen to, but the musicians didn't realize their full potential.

When I saw the cover, I initially thought it was Khalid. He does look alike, especially from a distance, though his cheeks are a bit bigger. But the music turned out to be completely different — classic Southern soul with a sweeping tempo that makes you want to stroll down a sunny street, chest out, and an abundance of brass instruments. The lyrics are mostly about the opposite sex, in keeping with the genre's traditions. Returning to contemporary artists: while Khalid took Al Green's hair and left it at that, Justin Timberlake and Seal have clearly drawn heavily from his music. It's a pleasant album, but I can't give it more than three stars because the soul music is a bit monotonous and background for me. If you feel differently, you can give it an extra star or two.

From the very first song, you can tell that Flamin' Groovies loves old blues and The Rolling Stones, who adapted it for their time. Mick Jagger himself is said to have praised this album after hearing it, even saying it was more interesting than Sticky Fingers, released the same year. It really turned out well, blending blues-rock with a dirty garage sound, similar to that of The Stooges. Unfortunately, in the band's native California this kind of music proved unpopular, the singer left, and the band refocused on British power pop, but that's another story. Jagger's praise impressed the band so much that in the reissue of the album, which is now available on all streaming services, they added a whole second part of covers of rock 'n' roll classics. You can listen to that part, but it's not necessary.

I have no idea who Bill Callahan is, even though he's been in the industry for almost forty years, but on this album, at least, he reminded me of both Leonard Cohen and The National. The former has a "reading a poem to music" style, while the latter features rich arrangements featuring strings and keyboards. The mood of the songs is sometimes light, sometimes dark, and sometimes the lyrics are dissonant with the music; everything is in keeping with the genre's canons. It's a decent, laid-back album, but I won't be adding it to my library. Perhaps to truly resonate with this kind of music, you have to live in the American Midwest, although it was pleasant to listen to even with a snow globe outside.

"Santa-Barbara" by The Mamas & The Papas is certainly impressive. A quartet, two members of which are husband and wife, and the wife sleeps with the third member, who is in love with the fourth singer. Fleetwood Mac, if not envious, will certainly sigh with understanding. But all will be revealed only after the recording of this debut album, which is very good. Sunny, positive folk rock, sung by four different but perfectly complementary voices. The quintessential sound of the sixties, it's no surprise that Tarantino used one of the songs for his "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood." And, of course, the cover, the toilet on which horrified major US retailers who refused to stock the album. Band had to urgently cover it with an advertising sticker, and later they removed even the bathtub. And you say: "Arabs paint over women in albums"...

Looking back, it seems like every Blur album has always been a cult classic, but in the early '90s, few thought so. I'll go further, "thanks" to their first two albums, the band managed to make a tidy fortune and live practically hand-to-mouth for a while. Perhaps when you're angry and hungry and have nothing left to lose, things like "Parklife" are born. It's a genre-defining record, without exaggeration, that, while it didn't feature any fundamentally new moves, executed them in such an order and proportion that it gave birth to Britpop. There's a little bit of everything here — ballads, punk rock thrillers, electronic dance hits, and even some orchestral pieces, sometimes serious, sometimes silly. I once saw someone say that Blur was a band that planned to sound like The Kinks, but ended up sounding like The Jam. There is something to this.

Many respect Syd Barrett as the founder of Pink Floyd and one of the pioneers of psychedelic music in general. Even more are grateful that he left Pink Floyd soon afterward; this is understandable. Barrett spent almost two years making his first solo album, and not because it was technically complex — far from it. On the contrary, almost the entire album is built on the most sloppy acoustic guitar strumming and singing (if you can call it that) over it. Sometimes session musicians, completely clueless about how and what was supposed to be played, would overdub these parts. In the end, Syd's wildness scared off two producers, and Gilmour and Waters, who had worked with him in his previous band, had to be called in to finish the recording. All in all, it's certainly listenable, but it sounds like the ravings of a madman, which, by all appearances, is precisely what it is.

You can often tell an album by its cover. For example, what do we see here? A view from below of a roadside pole entangled in a multitude of wires. When a wire fails, they simply throw in a new one. Anyone who's been to Asia has witnessed this scene firsthand many times. But the thing is, in Asia itself, I quickly stop noticing these wires, even though these "nests" are practically everywhere — my eye gets numb and takes them for granted. That's the same with this album — its sound evokes the synthetic future of a sci-fi dystopia. The hip-hop here, like that pole, is woven with bits of post-rock and jazz, yet everything sounds uncluttered and even minimalist. It would be perfect as a soundtrack for, say, Mirror's Edge. It's surprising that this little-known record appeared in the first edition of the book and is still there. It's probably worth a listen.

In 1994 Blur invented Britpop, and a year later Oasis turned it into music for a completely different audience — let's say, the English working class. Blur struggled a bit more with their next album, but ultimately realized there was nothing to be gained from it and moved on. They arrived at the American indie sound. More precisely, they were introduced there by guitarist Graham Coxon, who had been listening to the music of Beck and Pavement. The label, journalists, and fans were shocked, but the album still took off. Blur proved that sometimes you need to change things up. At the same time, the band openly mocked Americans at times, and "Song 2," which became a major hit in the US, was intended as a parody of grunge. In this regard, Blur still hold their own: they recently openly stated that their Coachella show was completely off-the-charts, as it's the only festival where audience members film themselves on their phones, not the stage. Well, they aren't wrong.

Now, it would seem, a true legend! Who hasn't heard of Frank Sinatra? Everyone's mind immediately conjures up images of him in his signature trilby hat at the mention of his name. However, even here, things aren't so simple. Yes, this is a pleasant collection of upbeat love songs written by other songwriters and by then almost classics, performed by Sinatra's velvety voice, unmistakable. Arranger Nelson Riddle also did a superb job with the instrumental section. But just remember, if you've heard one song on this album, you've heard them all; even AC/DC would be outdone in terms of monotony. However, there's nothing wrong with that, and the record is perfect as a leisurely backdrop for dinner. Then you can smoothly go from dinner to dancing, if you have someone to join you.

Sampling is a delicate matter; make a single mistake and you'll have to hand over all the profits from your song to other guys. Richard Ashcroft, Vanilla Ice, and the late Juice Wrld will tell you that. If there's just one sample on an album, negotiating its use isn't a problem. But what if there are, say, nine hundred? Or even more than three thousand? That's exactly the number used on this record, according to its creators. Moreover, there are no new sounds here; it's all samples. A horse's neighing, some Indian melody, something Rasta-esque, dialogue from a movie... The description sounds like cacophony, but in reality, The Avalanches managed to make a truly amazing dance album. Cutting it all up in the right order and getting permission to use the sounds is an incredible amount of work. If you're too lazy to prepare a playlist for a party, feel free to just put this album on — everyone will appreciate it.

Thurston Moore and Michael Gira gave Devendra Banhart his start in big-time music. With such "godfathers," you'd expect everything here to sound, shall we say, noisy. In reality, this is a beautiful acoustic album. Short guitar sketches are close to both psychedelic America and the folksy England of the 1960s, and surprisingly, just as far removed. There's also a certain southern sound — Banhart lived in Venezuela until he was fourteen. And overall, he's something of a citizen of the world: not only did his parents name him on the advice of an Indian guru, but he also has the middle name Obi. Yes, after Obi-Wan Kenobi. With a biography like that, you can't write "flat" music. Critics have compared Devendra to early Marc Bolan. I agree with them on some aspects of the guitar sound, but his vocal style is very much an acquired taste — it sounds a bit like alt-J. Keep that in mind; you'll either love it or your ears will wilt.

Neil Young is one of those artists whose cult status on the west I don't understand at all. These days, he mostly grumbles about everything: Spotify (where he once managed to delete his entire discography), social media, Americans who voted incorrectly... Okay, old man yells at cloud, but what did he do in his youth, at his peak? He played pretty standard country-folk, which, while not bad musically, relies heavily on the lyrics, which dramatically raises the barrier to entry for me. The lyrics, by the way, are so full of negativity and melancholy that Neil Young himself later decided he'd overreacted and didn't allow the album to be released on CD until 2003. He wouldn't let it be released, and he pulled the music from streaming services... Grandpa, do you even want people to listen to your songs or not? As they used to say at university: "You're great, of course, but I wouldn't give you anything higher than a C."

Despite several Siouxsie and the Banshees songs in my favorites, I listened to this album for the first time — and it was a success. The entire record jumps between energetic punk rock and calmer post-punk, yet you're never free of tension throughout the songs. This dark atmosphere is primarily supported by the vocals and guitar. We'd later hear sharp, slightly jagged riffs in the works of Johnny Marr, Dave Navarro, and John Frusciante, but it was John McGeouch who first dabbled in them. Siouxsie Sioux's voice will be familiar to fans of Florence + the Machine. Siouxsie's image, however, is the complete opposite — it's exactly what every '80s alt-girl wanted to be, and Tim Burton clearly modeled Lydia from Beetlejuice on her. It's rare that a studio album can rival a greatest hits collection in terms of density. A very pleasant surprise and a record that is truly worth to hear before you die!

Johnny Cash loved performing in prisons, despite never having served time. Cash's most iconic performance is considered to be his concert at Folsom Prison, released a year earlier. He hadn't originally planned to record this show, but an English crew filming a documentary about prison life came to film it. The label accepted the bonus, and they were right – thanks to the San Quentin concert, Cash was nominated for three Grammys, one of which he won. The cover photo of the artist became one of his signature images, but this album gave us (and the owners of bootleg merch stands) an even more iconic shot, where Johnny clearly expresses his feelings about the cameramen (https://www.nme.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/SnapGalleries180311.jpg) blocking the prisoners' view of the stage. A fine record, one of the pillars of country music. But whether a list of essential albums really needs two Johnny Cash prison concerts is an open question.

An opinion that will incur the wrath of Pitchfork magazine readers and others alike: Radiohead as a band ended with OK Computer. Then Radiohead as an art object began, because, in my opinion, almost all of their subsequent work can be described with the phrase "experiments for the sake of experiments," and that began with this album. Guitars are minimal here (quite unexpectedly after the previous album), but there's an abundance of ambient, IDM, techno, and other "smart" electronica, sometimes bordering on white noise. Overall, the album can be roughly divided into two parts: music for a German club and music for floating. The faces of everyone who expected the band to cement their status as the new kings of intellectual rock here are beyond imagination. Many critics may consider Kid A practically the most important album of the 2000s, but I'd rather listen to The Bends several times over.

By now this site gave me the pleasure of listening to excellent debut albums by The Killers and The Doors, but the opening from Lynyrd Skynyrd is something else entirely. The record is steeped in the spirit of the American South, instantly making you want to listen to it while driving a muscle car with a Confederate flag flying out the window. It's hard to pick a single song; every single one is worth its weight in gold. The brisk opening with I Ain't the One, the keyboard solo in Tuesday's Gone, the lyrics in Simple Man... But the epochal Free Bird, with its four-minute guitar solo, is still unrivaled. The band's star would set as quickly as it had risen: four years later, a plane crash would take the lives of frontman Ronnie Van Zant, two other musicians and their manager, and leave the remaining members physically and emotionally scarred. Lynyrd Skynyrd is now the Ship of Theseus; none of the original lineup remains. However, the artists' decision is clear: these great songs must live on.

Is Peter Frampton's name familiar to many? If not, don't be embarrassed. There's a reason for that — his first four albums weren't exactly stellar, enjoying neither critical nor popular success. But then something magical happened: his live album, featuring the same songs performed, was released and hit the jackpot. Critics praised it, radio stations played it, and most importantly, it sold incredibly well and remains one of the most popular live albums in history. The artist has never been able to replicate this triumph. It remains a magic until you compare the studio and live versions of the songs head-to-head. The songs remain fairly average, but as flat and trivial as they sound on the recordings, they are just as energetic and expansive in concert (the sound of his signature talk-box helps in some places). This is where the stage truly became a place of power for the artist.

Fela Kuti is known as the father of Afrobeat, a genre that blends jazz, funk, and African folk rhythms. The genre is generally quite enjoyable, both for dancing and as a background track; this album is no exception, but the story behind its creation reads like an episode of "Parts Unknown". Kuti declared his own microstate in Nigeria, consisting of a commune and a recording studio. The government became agitated and told him to stop acting up. Kuti got angry and recorded this album, which consists of just two songs (a reissue is available online, adding two more). In my opinion, the lyrics are simple and rather toothless, but the government was overly receptive to this ragebait and sent the army to burn down the rebel's house. During the process, the soldiers beat the artist and threw his mother out of a window, killing her. Kuti responded by sending the coffin containing his mother's body to the then-president's residence. Basically, this scene (https://youtu.be/UajTvU3sjrY) from "The Boondocks" perfectly describes the whole situation.

If any of you were planning to get into progressive rock, Yes's Fragile is practically the perfect choice. This album is easy to listen to and not overly complicated. It sounds beautiful, if a bit heavy in places. However, if you start to analyze it in more detail, you realize that none of the parts are easy to play, and yet the musicians have managed to juxtapose them without degenerating into cacophony. Are there any downsides? Of course there are. Of the nine songs on the album, only four are full-length; the rest are short vignettes from each musician, a sort of "talent showcase". Here's a keyboardist arranging a piece from Brahms. Here's a short drum fill. Here's an acoustic guitar number with a medieval sound, and so on... They're all skilled guys, they've proven themselves, there's no denying it, but these performances could have been reserved for live performances only. What else can I say? ⬅️To Be Continued

This Neil Young is much closer to me than On the Beach, which I got here last time! The album is very unusual. Firstly, it's unclear whether it's a live album or a studio one — almost all the songs were recorded live (crowd noise was muted, but it still comes through in places), but the songs are new, previously unreleased. Secondly, it's clearly divided into two sides. Side one is just classic Neil Young, with his acoustic guitar and harmonica. This section is fine, but the album really kicks into high gear on side two, where Neil is joined by his band. There's such a noise here, and the guitars are loaded with so much distortion, that it immediately becomes clear why Nirvana and Pearl Jam admired Young. The decision to loop the album was also a brilliant move — the first and last songs are essentially the same, but the sound and verse order are changed. In general, Neil hasn’t gotten rusty by his twelfth album!

In the mid-1950s, French avant-garde artists developed a new movement called "musique concrète." "Concrete" here involves recording absolutely any sounds (from a creaking door to the sound of rain) and then sampling them (if such a term existed back then). Holger Czukay was inspired by this school when writing his first solo album. The cover likely shows him at work — in addition to natural sounds, he also used excerpts of dialogue from television and radio broadcasts. All of this was layered over some decent bass lines (Czukay played bass in the band Can) and spiced up with his quiet vocals. And overall, it's not all bad; the album could serve as a background. I was about to give it three stars until I listened to the last song, where all this variety of sounds began to merge into a cacophony. Even this could have been forgiven if the song hadn't been fifteen minutes long.

By the end of 1974, David Bowie had grown tired of the Ziggy Stardust image he'd created (knowing the artist's love of change, he held on for a long time), and then, during a US tour, a fortunate stop in Philadelphia, where soul music reigned supreme, came up. "This is what I'll make my next album like," the maestro decided. He did. My feelings after listening to it are mixed. I'm not really into soul music in general, and this one feels strange somehow; even Bowie himself called it "plastic." The Beatles cover here is perhaps one of the most disgusting I've heard. Half the album is practically filler (though that's often the case with Bowie). On the other hand, it's not bad as a backdrop to a party, and there are a couple of strong hits. And it turns out that a three is not enough, and a four is too much... But for the smart move to put the two best songs first and last, so that the album starts off strong and leaves a good aftertaste, I give it a higher mark!