extreme flat and same-y // tempo range is narrow, guitar tones sound the same // first four tracks blend into each other COMPLETELY // j casablancas’ vocals are nasal, whiny, grating- affect never changes, no diversity of pitch // lyrics are extremely thin, repetitive, hold almost no substance- attitude is quite juvenile // “last nite” fails to stand out, gets lost in homogeneity // despite the lo-fi production there’s no expression // trapped in the early 00s, but not in a flattering way // one long, mildly annoying loop
overall very pleasant, warm, and cohesive // strong old folk / americana feel, especially in vocal harmonies // simpler emotionally and structurally than some earlier folk traditions, though a bit more complex than something like the kossoy sisters, for example // clear roots-revival intention rather than reinvention // songwriting leans heavily on pastoral imagery and familiar progressions // beauty comes from texture and harmony more than risk or surprise // occasionally feels too reverent // careful preservation instead of exploration // i enjoy it, but wish it pushed further or introduced a clearer new idea // contemporary folk done well, just not particularly adventurous
BEAUTIFUL ETERNAL ARETHA
immediately gripping // playful, angular, and full of personality // melodies feel off-kilter but inevitable, like ur limping towards the sunset on a hot summer night // classic without feeling stiff // sense of humor aaaallll over the record, especially in the phrasing and timing, delicious // feels foundational but also weird in a way that still feels fun and new // i now understand why so many musicians orbit monk // truly everybody wants to be A CAT
this album FUCKS, relentlessly // pure anxious propulsion, music from your nervous system // physically awkward in the best way, like your limbs dont know where to go // paranoid, twitchy, tightly wound but never in the same way // rhythm dynamics feel alive and unstable, always pushing // i zimbra as an opener is feral and delicious, perfect opener // life during wartime is all adrenaline and dread, no wasted motions or e-motions // air floats strangely, unsettling without being aggressive // paper is my spiritual anthem, obsessive and affirming // art-rock at peak tension- smart, weird, and fully bodied // sounds like thinking too fast
it’s fine. madonna has stronger, sharper records // fun, a little sexy, clearly built for movement, dancing // very of its time, but in a way i enjoy rather than resent // production leans into club pop without fully committing to risk, but! vocoder production is good and enjoyable // music title track is a great opener, immediate and confident // runaway lover is underrated, playful and loose // what it feels like for a girl is doing something most mainstream pop girlies today wish they were brave enough to attempt; vulnerable, political, restrained; kind of a softer courtney love energy // paradise might be my fav // gone would have been a perfect closer; reflective, melancholy, genuinely earned // then american pie happens ): the original song is sacred, it is a cultural artifact, it is already complete; covering it adds nothing, reveals nothing, improves nothing
it flattens the album’s emotional landing and feels wildly unnecessary
ending the record there feels like drinking a beer and waking up with a headache // overall enjoyable, occasionally great, but not essential madonna
HISTORICAL MEGALITH of an album // not just defining for ebm / hardcore, but for the exact psychic weather of the mid-90s:
soundtrack to post-rave comedown- optimism curdling into paranoia
berlin wall aftermath, bosnia, rwanda, end of peace-and-unity rhetoric
underground dance scenes splintering fast, no shared center anymore
jungle going mainstream, four-to-the-floor mutating into harder, uglier forms
drugs darker, weed heavier, “dark” and “darkside” becoming everyday language
shift from party bravado to gothic intensity across music culture (cypress hill —> wu-tang)
this album is precision-tooled for that moment // total divestment of cool or subtlety, all teeth and nerve endings // hardcore tempos, breakbeats, distortion, everything on the surface // disaffection expressed as a collective uugghh rather than theory or politics // their law isn’t nuanced, but it doesn’t need to be // start the dance (no good) shows how close the mainstream and underground already were // paranoia as rhythm, anger as propulsion // no skips, every track hits // poison and one love are core texts // pure gritted-teeth energy, which informs my personal visual language to this day
i get it, i truly do, i just dont like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
foundational, quietly seismic record // initially underappreciated and misunderstood, some critics didn’t even recognize it as jazz; for example, winthrop sergeant called it “charming and exciting” // this is cool jazz at its finest, purest // arrangements feel architectural yet weightless // to ke it gives an impressionistic atmosphere: airy, light, softly luminous // attention to tone and blend is meticulous and nothing is overstated // restrained, but beautiful use of space as power // feels like a study in aural poetry rather than virtuoso display // despite being historically transformative it does it beautifully without ever sounding self-important
very pretty sounds, hazy // the guitar tones are great // at times feels a bit cheesy, but overall very very enjoyable // feels like a long lazy summer heatwave day // has a big band feel in some of the backing tracks which i very much enjoy
opens strong, grimy and surprisingly funky // cool-heavy riffs, tight grooves, immediate energy // first stretch feels loose and dangerous in a good way // starts to blur midway through though, same tones and tempos recycling // the back half of the record drags, loses the bite it promised at the start // honestly, the half-hour runtime is a mercy // solid moments, but not consistently gripping or interesting // def didnt convert me into an aerosmith fan // not their strongest record, more of a stamina test than revelation
classic, longtime favorite of mine
long time personal fave, 5 stars, no hesitation // explosive, global, and completely self possessed and self-feeding // feels borderless, stitched from everywhere and nowhere // abrasive and catchy // political without sacrificing hooks // obviously paper planes is iconic but its not even the whole story // constant movement, constant invention // endless feedback loop of the best kind
solid and very charming // concise, melodic, and endlessly listenable // big fan of holly’s hiccup style phrasing, its playful and instantly recognizable // nice contrast between his regular voice and falsetto, keeps things very lively // guitars are chunky, bright, high-strung, rooted in blues progressions as is often the case for the time // tight song structures, no excess // obviously foundational for rock’s early shape // i personally gravitate more toward the black originators of the sound, where the blues grit runs deeper but, still, holly’s melodic instinct and vocal quirks make this undeniably iconic
chaotic, satirical, deliberately abrasive // feels like a prank pulled on the entire 1960s at once // razor-sharp cultural parody // collaged, fragmented, jumps between styles without warning // sounds like someone slicing up pop culture and taping it back together wrong on purpose // historically bold, gleefully disrespectful // deeply personal nostalgia factor for me as my mom had the cd and i loved staring at the cover. oh, and my immigrant grandmother played it for me constantly thinking it was children’s music, which is an objectively criminal misunderstanding but also subjectively formative; probably rewired my brain chemistry in early childhood, grateful for the accidental exposure. explains a lot about me now
warm, playful, has a feel of childlike adventurousness // i like that the house and jazz influences give it a soft, almost hazy club glow // beautiful voice-work as is expected of björk // feels intimate even at its most danceable // exploratory without being overwhelming // iconic for a reason, even if she would go on to outdo it
i didn’t really get this one, it didn’t move me //was more like light shove // i expected to love it, landed just short // i decide to believe its earnest, but a bit calculated in its intimacy // just enough, not too artificial// leans toward that proto boom-clap-stomp sensibility before it even had a name, while blues and folk feel like last minute guests // writing has some strong moments, but overall record feels too narrow for me
one of my favorite eras of the stones, loose but apocalyptic // this one feels especially personal as i discovered it when my mom was deployed for the second time, four years after 9/11. she was gone for a long while, and this one kept me company, one of those tapes i played to death that summer // musically: ragged, blues-drenched, end-of-the-60s exhaustion baked into it // gimme shelter is pure stormfront energy // you can’t always get what you want feels communal but lonely at the same time // country, gospel, and blues all bleeding into each other // sounds like a party only youre having while the world tilts // to me its tied to heat, absence, and learning how to sit with quiet // not just a classic rock record, but a time capsule of that summer
GOAT ON WAX // bratty, loud, historically seismic // juvenile but self-aware // sounds like three kids who just realized they can bend culture for fun // all-time favorite, energetic, never apologizes, never slows down // because the beastie boys have gone awol is my forever out-of-office message
oh miss loretta, how i owe you my life <3
warm, expansive, and somehow immersive // this one made me slow down, which i appreciate
mhmm mhmm, yeah
finally, some good fucking food
moved me, slightly
hadnt listened to this in YEARS, so nice to revisit it // raw thunderclap debut, NWOBHM manifesto // paul di’anne’s raspy, punky vocals are everything // galloping basslines + dual guitars = relentless momentum // opener snarls; title track gallops; phantom of the opera ambitious and epic // riffs are jagged, energy is unpolished, production is thin but very much alive // slower tracks (remember tomorrow, strange world) offer a fleeting breath, but occasionally plodding // chaotic, unrefined, and brimming with menace // this is THE blueprint
funkyyyy // like a snack you randomly pick up without ever having it before, but end up liking
<333
goat album, goat band // absolute lightning in a bottle // back to back killer
delectable, succulent meal
honestly, idk what other people were on about, this is great. nice little jam
ooh, oh yeah. delicious bass on this one
felt like one looong commercial jingle
de-li-cious
nostalgia factor, but not enough to stick for me
bruce springsteen to begin with always devastates me, but darkness on the edge of town has me on the floor!!! palms bruised!!!! knocking on the earth like it owes me an explanation!!!
this is not a record to mee, do you understand that this is my own personal religion
bruce springsteen does not comfort you here, he strips you for parts and hands you your soul back piece by piece while you struggle to carry all of yourself while your heart lies PANTING
every song feels like it’s been dragged through gravel and yet! they persist!
nothing is shining, all of it is grinding its teeth and pulsing and marching because all of your sins, unpaid, are coming due
and bruce, this impossible man, is out here singing like if he stops for even a second the whole world caves in
i am not okay listening to this
i am pacing
i am clenching my jaw
i am staring at the ceiling
adam raised a cain is inheritance as a curse you can’t return, i will accept no other reading of the song
factory is barely a song, if you get it, you get it
racing in the street… i have to sit down. i actually have to sit down. it empties me out and leaves the shell of my physical being ringing
and the promised land???
how DARE he make hope sound like that???
and then the title track arrives like a final verdict, and you have been sentenced to a life forever changed
there is no redemption for anyone, no soft landing
just a man standing at the edge of everything, choosing to face the dark instead of pretending it isn’t there
and i am on the floor again
fists, chest, whatever will make a sound loud enough to match what this album is doing to me
because this man, this ridiculous man from new jersey, gets it
he gets the anger
he gets the wanting
he gets the way you keep going even when nothing in you believes it will matter
anyways, i love springsteen in a way that feels embarrassing and necessary at the same time
this album is not here to save you
another one with deep nostalgia for me, reminds me of my grandma or mom making tostones in the summer with all the kitchen windows and back door open ):
