Right at the start of my musical journey, a true masterpiece. Nina Simone was always an artist I should have known more about. This is powerful music with a political messagecand sadly, not much has changed: It's black, feminist, poetic, sublime. Particularly fascinating: ‘Lilac Wine’, 'Four Women', ‘Wild is the Wind’ and ‘Black Is the Colour of My True Love’s Hair’.
Zeitgeist. It was the era when science fiction was booming. The era when astronauts were working in multinational space stations. The future was just around the corner. I’ve known this album ever since it came out. In German. The English-language version still sounds strange, a bit off. Perhaps also because the strong accent makes it clear that the lyrics were never intended to be in English. But that doesn’t matter. Because with Kraftwerk, it’s the atmosphere, the concept, the idea – and the music, of course – that counts. The album is a masterpiece. Their most commercially successful one. And perhaps not even their very best. But great. Still visionary, almost 50 years after its release. And the future is still around the corner. For better of for worse.
‘Songhoy Blues’ – the band name made me fear the worst. Because anyone who knows me knows how little I can be bothered with 95% of the blues and blues-rock noodling out there. But fortunately, the album has very little to do with classic blues or blues-rock; instead, it is an excellent example of African ‘Desert Blues’ (according to Wikipedia), which is musically much more complex. Although, of course, you can’t understand a single word – the lyrics are apparently in Songhay, the language of northern Mali – the music is rhythmically structured and universally accessible. A good example of an album I probably would never have heard if it weren’t for the “1001 albums you must hear before you die” website.
The album offers pure electric blues performed by a superb band. And yet, at the same time, it contains everything I detest about blues: clichéd lyrics, predictable solos, rigid structures. The “Oohs” and “Yeahs” from the audience complete the stereotype. Yes, the album is certainly a role model for many blues (rock) musicians of later years. But I simply can’t relate to this 12-bar blues structure and the “my baby, she left me” lyrics at all. Because I’ve heard it all a thousand times before and it always comes across the same. If you're a Blues fan, this album is a full ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐, but for me, as a Blues skeptic it's barely a ⭐⭐ because I have to give some credit for musical excellence.
Whenever I listen to Beck – which is rare, I confess – I find myself thinking that I ought to listen to more of his music. Or that it just doesn’t move me. This album is certainly one of his best. Beautifully sad, a love child of the Velvet Underground’s debut and early Radiohead, slightly drunk, introvert and definitely depressive. And yes, I understand why he was (or is?) such an important figure during the decline of rock music, and I do like what I hear. But even this album doesn’t quite resonate with me. Maybe I'm getting too old for this kind of music. Or I just have enough of this music in my collection. Still, I’ll put it on my to-listen-again list.
Oh, I remember it well when this album came out. It made a huge impact. Tracy Chapman became world-famous overnight thanks to the Nelson Mandela 70th Birthday Tribute concert. The debut struck a chord with the spirit of the times: racism, social injustice, misogyny, the lack of prospects for the working class – all these were issues that played a major role in the politically charged 1980s. Add to that Tracy Chapman’s clever songwriting, her expressive voice and the – from today’s perspective – timeless production, which make the album a true singer-songwriter classic. Chapman was never able to replicate the commercial success of her debut, nor perhaps the extremely high artistic standard of this album. But she doesn’t need to, as this album already establishes her as one of the most significant female songwriters of the 1980s. It is shocking how relevant the lyrics still are. It’s as if 40 years haven’t passed…
This is certainly a Britpop classic, released at the height of the Britpop wave and the hype surrounding the ‘feud’ between Blur and Oasis. And yes, the album has a few catchy hits (‘Girls & Boys’, ‘Parklife’), but in the long run it’s too cocky, too superficial for my taste. I prefer Blur’s later albums, as they sound a bit more mature; I can’t really get into this one over the course of a whole album (and even less so with Oasis). Perhaps because I’ve never really warmed to the Britpop wave. Good, probably very good, but just average for me.
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the English underground music scene was highly politicised within the burgeoning indie scene. Suddenly, there was music from working-class neighbourhoods for working-class people, with a trendy sound. Ska was danceable and lyrically driven (far more so than disco) and reflected the reality of life for young people in the urban jungle. The Police borrowed this ‘white reggae’ (Regatta de Blanc) from bands like The Specials, whilst Madness were set to make this new ska sound even more popular.
When the album came out, I was too young to understand its significance. Back then, I saw The Specials as a slightly less fun version of Madness, though it was actually the other way round: The Specials were Madness’s bigger, more sensible older brother, musically more versatile and lyrically far more astute.
That was truly the most dreadful album I’ve had to listen to so far in this challenge. Marilyn Manson embodies everything I detest about 90s rock music: posing, senseless extreme volume, deliberate provocation and calculated shock tactics, all for the sake of causing a scandal. Musically, there’s nothing special behind all the screaming and those late-adolescent porn lyrics: Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osbourne and Alice Cooper did the shocking stuff better back in the 1970s, and Gary Numan’s ‘alien image’ was far more convincing and less ridiculous. Music for 90s kids who wanted to shock their parents. Nowadays, nobody talks about Manson anymore. And for good reason.
I keep this short. Otis is Soul music. Perfect phrasing, an expressive voice, pure feeling, not a single note out of place, plus a tight band, and every song is sung as if it came straight from the bottom of his soul. Otis even manages to breathe real soul into the Stones' rubbish ‘Satisfaction’. Soulful perfection.
Unlike what most music fans probably think, I find *Led Zeppelin II* to be the band’s most boring and weakest album. Too much blues, too much posing, too many swaggering guitar solos and “every inch of my love”. Yes, I know, that’s what many people love about rock ’n’ roll, but it’s also exactly what bores me out of my mind. Fortunately, the band has made far better albums. Highlights: Ramble on, Thank you.
They say it’s one of the best hip-hop albums of all time. OK, now it’s official. I just can’t get into hip-hop. A barrage of words over the same old beats, over a words, over beats, over words, over beats. I suppose it’s all very meaningful. But musically, it bores me to death. Not my cup of tea. Definitely not my cup of tea.
I’ve known this album for as long as I can remember. My older brother bought it shortly after it was released. Later, it became one of my first CDs, and I’ve followed its release history with interest, including various expansions, remasters and remixes. What concerts!
The ‘core album’ remains the classic, especially in this familiar mix (though the Steven Wilson remix is at least its equal, just not nearly as familiar). The album is regarded as one of the best live albums in rock history. When you listen to it, it immediately becomes clear why: the band is at the peak of its musical prowess, Blackmore and Lord use their rivalry to create incredibly virtuosic solo duels, Ian Gillan achieves things and produces sounds with his voice that hardly any other rock singer could imitate, whilst Glover and Paice provide a confident and powerful rhythmic foundation. The recording quality from Japanese venues in the 1970s was vastly superior to that of European or American stages, and the audience fires up the band with a mixture of Japanese reserve and frenetic ecstasy. The result is pure energy. Hard rock with progressive influences at the very highest level. An eternal classic and perhaps truly the objectively best live album of all time.
Michael Jackson at the height of his career. This album laid the foundations for the sound that would reach its commercial peak on *Thriller*. Yet unlike *Thriller*, *Off The Wall* is still deeply rooted in the sound of the 1970s. It marked the first time MJ had collaborated with Quincy Jones. The duo would go on to shape the sound of the 1980s and spin the hit machine ever faster. With a disastrous end. But the lightness of this quasi-debut by the new, grown-up Jacko would remain unrivalled.
If I ever needed a reminder of why I can’t stand country music, here’s the perfect example of everything I find annoying about it. Cheesy music, saccharine lyrics (I love my baby, I miss my baby, my baby has left me), sluggish tempos, sentimentality instead of poetry – or at least virtuosity.
"Psychocandy is the debut album by the Scottish rock band The Jesus and Mary Chain. It combines catchy (SIC!!) pop melodies with overdriven electric guitars and feedback-filled cacophony. The album is regarded as pioneering for the shoegaze genre." So says Wikipedia. I see. I do indeed hear a lot of feedback, along with bored (and boring) vocals and, overall, a band that would love to sound like the Velvet Underground. Except they were around 20 years earlier and had two brilliant songwriters. Music like on this album is the reason why I’m sceptical about ‘indie rock’. Boring noise for a boring generation (mine). Terrible. And I well aware that this is considered a true post rock classic.
Like most people, I only discovered Nick Drake long after his death. Through a TV advert. (Now that's a bit embarrassing.) After hearing him for the first time, I quickly got hold of Drake’s slim catalogue (back then there were only three albums; today there are a few more rarities compilations). Even more so than my idol Tim Buckley, Nick Drake was completely unknown during his lifetime. Perhaps his quiet, introverted music didn’t fit in with the turbulent times of the late 1960s and early 1970s? I don’t know. From today’s perspective, his music is breathtakingly beautiful, his lyrics are magical poetry: Timeless perfection.
Add to that his clean guitar playing and his melancholic voice. “Five Leaves Left” was his debut and remains perhaps his purest album; the second (“Bryter Layter”) was perhaps a little overloaded in terms of production; the third (“Pink Moon”) remained somehow a bit fragmentary. All three rank among the best singer-songwriter albums of all time. Nick Drake was the John Dowland of the 20th century.
This is probably the ultimate folk-rock album. Crosby, Stills, Nash (& Young)’s debut was already a massive success, but “Déjà Vu” surpasses it once again, at least in terms of sales and impact. With the addition of Neil Young and his rock-oriented guitar, the album became significantly more folkROCK than its predecessor, though the quartet managed to strike a balance between ballads, folk songs, protest songs and rock songs. The characteristic harmonies of the core trio (supplemented here and there by Neil Young’s falsetto) dominate the sound. A true classic of the genre and of rock history in general.
The first two Deep Purple albums featuring the Mark I line-up were far from bad. With their blend of psychedelic, progressive, and hard rock, they showcased the virtuosity of Blackmore and Lord, offering a highly distinctive sound right from the start.
The classic Mark II line-up — Ritchie Blackmore, Ian Gillan, Roger Glover, Jon Lord and Ian Paice — made its debut with "Concerto for Group and Orchestra" and once again expanded the band's sound, partly thanks to the charismatic Ian Gillan on vocals and partly because the band were now confident enough to leave the boundaries of the genre behind.
It is perhaps therefore not so surprising that the Mark II line-up's debut studio album, "Deep Purple in Rock", virtually defined and revolutionised the hard rock genre. From then on, this album (and the subsequent Mark II albums) became synonymous with hard rock.
At the same time, with their solo escapades, Blackmore and Lord took their musical rivalry to absurd heights, adding influences from classical music and progressive rock to ‘pure’ hard rock with their virtuosity. The result remains stunning: "Deep Purple in Rock" is a (pun intended) rock music classic set in rocks err stone.
Is this XTC’s secret best album? Their (almost) swan song, their ending on a high note? Yes, I know, there’s the masterpiece *Skylarking*, there are the fan favourites *English Settlement* and *Nonsuch*, but perhaps XTC were never closer to the Beatles – the brilliant, visionary, revolutionary Beatles – than on this album. *Apple Venus Volume 1* is an incredibly good album, fantastically produced and arranged.
I hadn’t heard the album before, and perhaps I was expecting something different. Something a bit louder. Noisier. No, the album isn’t loud. It’s more like quiet, minimalist indie pop. The call it dream pop. But the album is a bit monotonous. No, very monotonous. Individual tracks hardly stand out, and not much sticks in the mind. It’s not a bad album, but it just doesn’t work for me. If I want to listen to that sort of music, I’ll listen to the quiet songs by Velvet Underground. Perhaps I’m simply too old for dream pop.
What a load of rubbish: I had to stop the album mid-play, for the first time in the challenge. Wrong notes, out-of-tune chords, inconsistent timing on top of the already poor drumming: someone’s deliberately trying to sound wrong and ugly here, perhaps in some sort of belated punk attitude. A sound straight out of the rehearsal room, completely amateurish, but lacking in charm and originality. I’m too old for this kind of rubbish.
I’ve never really got into Abdullah Ibrahim’s jazz. I’m afraid “Water from an Ancient Well” isn’t going to change that. It’s all very well played, but overall Ibrahim’s playing (or that of his band) strikes me as too polished, too well-behaved, too clean. The solos, confined to strict blues patterns, are predictable. I’m missing that final spark. The last four tracks from “Tuang Guru” to "Sameeda" stand out a little. But, as I said, overall it’s too well-behaved for my taste. Not bad, but not my kind of jazz.
It is difficult to separate Leonard Cohen’s album "You Want It Darker" from his death, for the artist passed away almost as soon as it was released – an analogy to David Bowie’s "Blackstar". As with “Blackstar”, the album is a final, significant statement by a great artist at the end of his career (I shall ignore the posthumously released Cohen album “Thanks for the Dance” for now, as it was only completed after Cohen’s death). The album powerfully explores the themes of death, closure, turning to God, (final) love, and looking back. It contains some of Cohen’s finest songs from the last 40 years: the title track (featuring the wonderful Jewish chants of a cantor and choir), “Treaty” and “Travelling Light”. Cohen’s voice sounds like a soft hum, the music is often sparse, and the compositions frequently follow a plain blues pattern. Musically, as is so often the case with Cohen, it remains relatively simple. The album impresses with its lyrics and Cohen’s haunting delivery. A worthy last statement.
Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t really like CCR’s music. Too much blues, too much country, too much America, too much Dixieland romanticism for my taste. And yet I love Fogerty’s music. The sound seems to be deeply rooted in the South (even though Fogerty is from California); the music is heavy, mystical, sweaty, yet at the same time drawn straight from life. With their second album, ‘Bayou Country’, the band found their signature sound: ‘Born on the Bayou’ and ‘Proud Mary’ are the blueprint for future greatness. This is the good stuff.
Coolness factor: 100
With all the coolness associated with Isaac Hayes — the voice behind the Blaxploitation classic Shaft — it’s easy to forget that he was also a musical innovator. At a time when progressive rock bands in Britain were primarily embracing the long song format, he released Hot Buttered Soul, an album featuring only four tracks, two of which are well over 10 minutes long (the opener 'Walk on by' and the closer 'By the Time I Get to Phoenix'), one just under that length ('Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic', 9:10 minutes) and one at 'just' 5:10 minutes ('One Woman'). It should have been commercial suicide, even in the world of soul music. Instead of flopping, however, Hayes's first masterpiece expanded the genre and opened up new avenues for it in the coming decade. Ironically, it was this unusual album that made him a star of black music, and skilfully edited singles then ensured commercial success in the charts. A milestone from a giant of soul music.
To be perfectly honest, I find the album — and the band's entire sound — awful. 'Four chords that made a million' (if there are even four). There's not much more boring than American indie rock with a punk attitude — maybe British indie rock is a little worse, but only maybe. I thought Hüsker Dü were awful back then, even when all my friends were raving about them. And if it didn’t appeal to the ‘rebel’ in me back then, it certainly won’t now. Of course, I know that behind the band’s raucous sound there are two clever minds, and that the band had a lot to say through their lyrics, but for me, unfortunately, it's not much more than 70 minutes wasted. I just can't get the message.
I’ve never listened to a Hole album before. I probably heard the occasional song on MTV back when “Live Through This” was released, but it wasn’t music that interested me. I have no recollection of the music. Back then, in 1994, the album was the talk of the town and the subject of wild speculation. Kurt Cobain had taken his life a week before the release date, and suddenly an album by his widow appeared. I don’t wish to engage in speculation about Cobain’s alleged ghostwriting – a certain stylistic similarity is certainly unmistakable. But didn’t half the bands back then sound a bit like Nirvana? From today’s perspective, over 30 years after its release, the album certainly isn’t worth the hype, but it’s better than I feared. Admittedly, if we’re honest, Patti Smith had already been doing this sort of music much better 20 years earlier. A certain ‘polished edginess’ means the album doesn’t really strike me as authentic. But perhaps these are just Yoko Ono-style prejudices that I can’t shake off.
I really ought to like Joan Armatrading: she’s a talented songwriter and her blend of folk-rock, blues, a touch of jazz and pop is something I certainly appreciate. But for some reason, her albums just don’t do it for me. Her third, self-titled album from 1976 doesn’t change that either. That might be down to the overly tame production, which seems terribly dated today. It might be down to Armatrading’s vocals, which, whilst not unemotional, are always a bit restrained. I find her music plain and simple – boring. There are other singer-songwriters who really grab me more.
At first, I thought, "Ugh, just another one of those alternative rock albums that everyone loves, but all I hear is annoying noise." But Sonic Youth is different. Yes, this isn't highbrow poetry, but noise rock and art punk. And that’s precisely why it works, contrary to expectations: it's organized noise. It's not just distorted guitars and bleating; it's played artfully with constant compositional twists. It's progressive rock in noise guise. Furthermore, the sound quality of the album is excellent. When is this from? 1986? Was it released on an indie label? Wow. It sounds absolutely audiophile-grade and timeless. Organized noise. What a discovery! I need to explore Sonic Youth more.
It is impossible to talk about Nirvana’s Unplugged album without mentioning Kurt Cobain’s death. The album was recorded at Sony Music Studios in Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, on 18 November 1993. Less than six months later, on 8 April 1994, Cobain’s body was found. He had presumably shot himself in the head three days earlier. Six months after that, in November 1994, the album was finally released, although excerpts from the concert had already been broadcast on MTV's heavy rotation, including 'All Apologies' and the David Bowie cover 'The Man Who Sold the World'. Six of the 14 tracks are cover versions, whereas only one of their own hits, 'Come as You Are', was included in the setlist. Cobain and his band clearly did not want to follow the series' usual format, eschewing a 'best of' live set of acoustic versions in favour of obscure tracks from their catalogue and songs that had influenced them. The album also symbolises the turning point that came with Cobain’s death: grunge was dead, and its unwitting messiah had taken his own life. The movement that had sought to change so much in music and art imploded. The remnants were commercialised, and the focus soon shifted to entirely different genres.
Of course, you can hear the band’s musical limitations. The guitars are far from cleanly played (and are perhaps even a little out of tune), and Cobain’s vocals aren’t always in tune. But that was virtually part and parcel of Nirvana’s musical identity. It wasn't about perfection, but about immediacy, spontaneity and authenticity. Never before or since has anyone sounded so raw, unpolished and unrefined on an MTV Unplugged performance.
I would have loved to hear more from Cobain, one of the most talented songwriters of his generation. It would have been great to see him break away from grunge and develop musically. As it stands, 'MTV Unplugged in New York' is the only album on which he was able to present himself in a different context.
Phew! This album is boring. It might not be even truly bad, but it's really really dull. It's exactly the kind of monotonous rap with R&B samples from Ableton's default presets that you've heard in countless other productions. I really have no idea what’s so special about it, or why it made the 1001 Albums list. Surely there must be plenty of other rap and R&B recordings out there that sound less streamlined and generic?
This album marked the beginning of my love for R.E.M. I can’t remember whether it was on the radio or on MTV when I first heard “The One I Love”. But I liked it. Finally, a new band with a (back then) fresh sound that really grabbed me. I remained loyal to the band right up until they split up, even though my enthusiasm gradually cooled. At some point, they perhaps became too big for me, and all the albums after the excellent ‘Up’ left me cold (even before that, I’d struggled with ‘Monster’, which I considered a failure). Today I listen to it with more distance; even on this album, not all that glitters is gold. But the raw urgency of R.E.M.’s music and Stipe’s cryptic yet somehow hypnotic lyrics were good companions to me for a long time as I was growing up.
In the summer of 1980, Iron Maiden were the hottest thing around. Their debut album had just come out and they were touring Germany with Kiss. I was 13 and too young to go to the concert at the Cologne Sporthalle. But we played the debut record over and over again. It really was a new form of hard rock... ‘Heavy metal’ was a new term back then, and indeed this music was faster, more aggressive, “harder” than what had previously been considered ‘hard rock’. Added to that was the eerie aesthetic of the artwork.
Although I’m not really much of a fan of heavy metal, I do like the early Iron Maiden. I’m probably one of the few fans who lost interest in the band when singer Paul Di Anno left. Bruce Dickinson was certainly a stroke of luck for the band and fits better overall into the band’s musical concept, but I preferred Di Anno’s punk attitude – less cliché, more decadence.
The contrast between his “un-metal” vocals and the band’s fast riffs and bass lines remains unique.
Musically, the album isn’t quite on a par with their second album “Killers”, but that’s not down to the band’s performance, but rather the mediocre production. Nevertheless, you can’t help but be drawn in by the band’s raw energy. An album that set the tone in many respects for 1980s rock music.
OK, that was a surprise. I’d only heard the band’s name and was bracing myself for the usual alternative rock stuff. Screeching guitars, whiny singers, self-centred lyrics and no hook lines. But no, the album is catchy, easy on the ear – a sort of modernised cross between Blondie and Goldfrapp. Rock with pop appeal. I don’t think I’ll go and listen to the band’s entire discography just because I’m a fan now, but I’ll definitely be playing this album again. Despite the daft band name and the rubbish artwork.
Of the seven albums Steely Dan released between 1972 and 1980, six are perfect. Their debut was still somewhat uneven, but by the time of "Countdown to Ecstasy", Steely Dan had already arrived at their classic sound: a highly distinctive blend of rock, blues, jazz and adult pop. If I myself have paid slightly less attention to “Countdown to Ecstasy” than to the subsequent albums, it is because they were even more perfect [SIC!!], even more refined, even more finely honed, but that does not detract from the genius of songs like “Bodhisattvaha”, “The Boston Rag”, “My Old School” or “Show Biz Kids”. Perfectly composed and flawlessly executed musical dramas in five minutes. Timeless mastery that we may never see the likes of again.
I’m actually a fan of electronic music, but for some reason the progressive electro and techno of the 1990s never really grabbed me. For one thing, I prefer the warm analogue synth sounds of the 1970s and early 1980s; for another, I generally find techno too rhythm-driven and, at the same time, too monotonous. I feel much the same about this album: it’s all very artfully crafted, visionary and certainly groundbreaking for the genre, but the music just doesn’t do it for me. It doesn’t stick. It doesn’t trigger anything. Not my cup of tea.
Of all the Talking Heads albums, I’m least familiar with *More Songs About Buildings And Food*. I’ve never really warmed to it, nor have I ever actually owned a physical copy (I have all the others, apart from the odd one out, “True Stories”). It lacks the raw, wild energy of the debut, but it also falls short of the creative diversity of its follow-up, “Fear of Music”, let alone the genius of “Remain in Light” or “Speaking in Tongues”. Sure, Brian Eno did give the band a better sound here, but in terms of composition, Byrne only hints here and there at the great things to come. It’s still a good album, but not an outstanding one.
An hour of refined boredom, somewhere between jazz for elevators and Tango Nuevo clichés, with a touch of 1980s jazz-pop à la Matt Bianco – but the whole thing deadly dull. Even the cover versions of Frank Zappa’s “Chunga’s Revenge”, Gato Barbieri’s “Last Tango in Paris” and the inevitable Astor Piazzolla’s “Vuelvo al Sur” are of no use here. Muzak.
In the summer of 1983, ZZ Top's distinctive Texas boogie rock could be heard everywhere. A series of cool music videos for “Gimme All Your Lovin’” and “Sharp Dressed Man”, followed later by “Legs”, propelled the blues-rock group to become one of the world's most successful bands. In reality, however, it was three old dogs presenting their eighth album, which they had adapted to the contemporary new wave sound of the 1980s. Notably, Frank Beard’s drumming was largely replaced by a drum machine and the tempo was adjusted to the Hi-NRG standard of the time, around 125 bpm. The result was danceable blues-rock pop that, while accessible to the masses, had lost much of the original charm of their early albums. From today's perspective, the 'more modern' Hi-NRG sound seems significantly more dated than the timeless Texas blues sound of classic albums like "Tres Hombres" (1973) and "Fandango!" (1974). Undoubtedly, the album contains numerous catchy tunes and is a classic of the '80s. However, objectively speaking, it is not ZZ Top’s best album.
"Strangeways, Here We Come" is the fourth and final studio album by English rock band The Smiths. Thank God! Back in the '80s, everyone seemed to love them. Except me. I still can’t understand what people see in their whingeing, whining music with egomaniacal lyrics and uninspired guitar playing. Johnny Marr is an excellent guitarist, but with The Smiths, you rarely get to hear that.
The album would almost be bearable if it weren't for Mr Steven Patrick Morrissey droning on over everything. No, really — even almost forty years after its release, this band and this music mean nothing to me. There's plenty of excellent, sensitive music with poetic lyrics out there — you really don't need The Smiths.
When "Superunknown" came out, it was one of the few albums from that era that really caught my interest. I was particularly taken with the video (and the song) for 'Black Hole Sun'. Overall, I have fond memories of the album. Now, many years later, I've put the album on again and I'm a little disappointed. My initial fascination has waned somewhat. Musically speaking, Soundgarden were undoubtedly the best that the grunge scene had to offer and Chris Cornell was a fantastic singer. However, looking back after more than 30 years, I would say that it's just a good, solid alternative metal album with a slight grunge influence. But it's not my cup of tea (anymore). The single 'Black Hole Sun' really stands out, and the other singles 'Spoonman', 'My Wave' and 'Fell on Black Days' are further highlights.
I’ve never been a fan of Van Morrison. That’s partly because I’m not really into blues music, and partly because I saw Van Morrison live once – it was the most bored and arrogant performance I’ve ever seen. A real grump. I can’t really get to grips with his landmark album ‘Astral Weeks’, but ‘Moondance’, with its late-sixties charm and that peculiar blend of folk-rock, R&B, soul and a touch of country – largely free of classic blues schemes – has a lovely patina that’s easy to appreciate, even if you can’t stand Van the Man.
I only own one hip-hop album: Hypocrisy Is the Greatest Luxury by The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy. When it was released in 1992, the single 'Television, the Drug of the Nation' was played frequently on MTV. Michael Franti’s razor-sharp lyrics were a breath of fresh air in nineties pop music. Added to this were Rono Tse’s remarkably powerful beats and groovy bass lines. Finally, danceable pop music with political lyrics had returned. Above all, the whole album thrives on Franti’s intelligent, unsparing and alarmingly topical lyrics, which break away from the hip-hop mould.
Sadly, the band only released two albums, the second of which, Spare Ass Annie and Other Tales, set texts by William S. Burroughs to music. However, it was clear from the outset that the narrow musical framework of hip-hop was too restrictive for Michael Franti. Tracks like 'Music and Politics' break completely away from the hip-hop sound, drawing closer to the jazz and soul of Isaac Hayes — not least thanks to the fantastic guitar work of jazz musician Charlie Hunter, who was making his debut at the time. In a sense, this album anticipates the music of spoken-word performers like Kate Tempest.
In my last review of Nick Drake’s "Five Leaves Left", I concluded with the following lines: "All three [albums] rank among the best singer-songwriter albums of all time. Nick Drake was the John Dowland of the 20th century." I stand by that. Whether the sparse orchestration of “Pink Moon” was a result of Drake’s severe depression, which prevented him from working with more instruments, is purely speculative. Apart from his voice and guitar, only a single piano melody can be heard in the title track. In its sparse simplicity, "Pink Moon" is, in a sense, the essence of Drake’s music. At less than half an hour long, it is pure magic and poetry: a swan song that was never intended as such. Drake’s fame only grew much later, in the late 1990s, thanks to a promotional film featuring the title track.
In the raucous rock year of 1972, with its symphonic progressive rock, "Pink Moon" was simply too quiet to be heard above the noise of mellotrons, Rickenbacker basses, and Moog synthesizers. Nick Drake is a tragic hero. I would have liked him to live to see his success and relevance.
Who or what on earth is that? When I opened my '1001 Albums' app this morning, I came across an album called "Chore of Enchantment" by a band called Giant Sand that I’d never heard of. These things happen; I'm not all-knowing. OK, Wikipedia tells me that they’re an ‘alternative rock’ band. The mastermind behind the band is the American singer-songwriter, musician and producer Howe Gelb, who I’m at least familiar with by name. The album itself, however, isn’t worth mentioning. It's fairly laid-back alternative rock, similar to the Eels, but significantly more boring. It's not awful, but it's incredibly monotonous. The lyrics probably aren't bad, but I wish there was more going on musically. Not my cup of tea.
Until now, I knew little more about Thundercat than his name. That has now changed. His third studio album, "Drunk", is an excellent showcase of a highly engaging, eclectic style that blends elements of funk, jazz, soul, hip hop and R&B with psychedelic and progressive pop and rock. At times, it sounds as though Steely Dan and Todd Rundgren, Prince and Earth, Wind & Fire had been jamming together. The artistry of the album lies in the fact that no new elements have been invented here – how could they? – but rather existing elements have been artfully and harmoniously woven together, even though they seem to contradict one another. So it’s no surprise that the album’s guest list features such a diverse range of musicians as Kenny Loggins, Michael McDonald, Kendrick Lamar, Wiz Khalifa, Mac Miller, Pharrell Williams, Kamasi Washington and Louis Cole. I’m not sure if every track on this highly fragmented album is of the same quality or to my taste, but overall I really like this postmodern ‘jigsaw puzzle approach’.
There are quite a few people who consider The Cure’s “Pornography” to be the dark masterpiece of the 1980s, a high point in the discography of a great band. And then there are those like me, who have always considered The Cure to be grossly overrated and who couldn’t relate at all to the band’s dark, depressive and sometimes morbid style, even going so far as to regard it as a caricature. Let’s put it this way: “Pornography” is not a Cure album (unlike, for example, its successor “Japanese Whispers” or the later “Disintegration”) that can convert a Cure sceptic like me. All the preconceptions I have about The Cure are confirmed here: a contrived gloomy atmosphere, whiny vocals, depressive lyrics, mindless post-punk with the same old chord progressions and unimaginative arrangements. The album really isn’t for me.
Many of my friends are big Rush fans. Since we have similar musical tastes, I’ve always wondered why the band more or less passed me by without making much of an impression. This may be because I had hardly any exposure to Rush during my musical formative years, with one exception: the live album "Exit... Stage Left", which followed the album "Moving Pictures". At the time, I liked the record that a school friend played over and over again, but obviously not enough to make me want to explore the band further. And that’s pretty much how it’s stayed. Whenever a friend warmly recommends a particular track or album to me today, claiming it will “convert” me, I give it a listen. I find it quite all right, but it doesn’t really stick with me. Above all, it never triggers the urge to hear more of their music. It’s all very skilfully played and composed, of course, and the lyrics aren’t any sillier than those of, say, Yes (although, as an Italian, pseudo-Italo-Spanish titles like “La Villa Strangiato” (SIC!!!) look absolutely dreadful to me). I don’t even have any issues with Geddy Lee’s unusual voice either. I don’t know what it is I’m missing about the band. Perhaps it’s a bit too much of everything for me? Many Rush fans consider Moving Pictures to be the high point of their discography. As a self-confessed Prog aficionado, I find the album OK, but nothing more. Sorry, folks.
Sorry, but that’s not music; it’s the musical equivalent of Tourette's diarrhea, performed by a misogynistic, violence-glorifying thug with no musical talent. It feels like half the lyrics are just 'I, I, I, I, I', ''n-word, n-word, n-word, n-word', 'motherf*cker, motherf*cker, motherf*cker, motherf*cker', 'gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta' and 'bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch'. Compared to the other rap albums I’ve heard in this challenge so far (such as Gang Starr and The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy), this is the most simplistic and rambling verbal diarrhoea I’ve heard from an egomaniacal idiot.
Yesterday, I listened to 50 Cent’s debut album "Get Rich or Die Tryin'", arguably the low point of the 1001 Albums Challenge. Today, I moved on to a true rap classic: "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five. When the title track was released as a single, it was revolutionary because, yes, there had already been “Rapper’s Delight” by the Sugarhill Gang, but this was the real catalyst for rap music’s commercial breakthrough. The music was groovy and absolutely danceable, and the lyrics were critical, political and socially conscious. For a moment, it seemed as though rap was the ideal medium for criticising the dire state of political injustice in the world. But, as we all know, the music has since developed in a completely different direction. When I listen to the album "The Message" today, I’m struck by how inconsistent it is. On the one hand, there are critical, highly political tracks such as "The Message" and, in the Expanded Edition released much later, the non album single "New York, New York". On the other hand, the album contains a lot of filler tracks and the catchy electro track "Scorpio". There are a plenty of scratch and mixing and sampling sounds from Grandmaster Flash, as well as a somewhat bizarrely banal R&B tribute to Stevie Wonder. In short, the singles are the absolute highlights of the album; unfortunately, the rest is rather dated pop that bands like Kool & the Gang were doing better back then.
Grandmaster Flash and rapper Melle Mel are undoubtedly historically significant, but this album is neither consistent nor consistently convincing. A rating averaging between ★★☆☆☆ and ★★★★★ amounts to no more than ★★⯪☆☆.
By the time “Achtung Baby” came out in 1991, I had already turned my back on U2. While I loved “The Unforgettable Fire” and “The Joshua Tree,” “Rattle & Hum” had deeply disappointed me. And “Achtung Baby!” would turn my fondness for the band into antipathy. The hype surrounding the album was unbelievable. At the time, it was truly considered the most “avant-garde” thing you could sell in the mainstream. Listening to the album again 35 years later, you find neither anything particularly avant-garde in it (aside from a few studio gimmicks by Lanois and Eno), nor anything hateful. Since “The Unforgettable Fire,” U2 had been shifting more and more toward a very ‘American’ expansive sound, which was fully realized here for the first time. In short: this is mainstream at its broadest, featuring a few good tracks (“Mysterious Ways,” “The Fly,” ‘Acrobat’), many mediocre ones, and a few bad ones (“Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses”—hey hey sha la la, hey hey, sha la la).
Back then, U2 were the biggest rock band on the planet, and that fame certainly went to the band’s heads; above all, though, it makes it so difficult to properly categorize their music. Without all the media hype surrounding the band and the album, “Achtung Baby” (what a stupid album title that no English speaker can pronounce correctly) is just a rock album with the sound of its time, with some highs and lows but mostly “more of the same,” which has acquired a lot of patina over the years. The album wasn’t even “groundbreaking” for the band itself, whose hubris would spiral out of control after this album and culminate in gigantic tours.
Oh, what's this? I had no idea that Gary Burton and Astor Piazzolla had made an album together. It's a live recording from July 1986 at the Montreux Jazz Festival, which was released a year later. The album is made up of pieces by Astor Piazzolla, but "Vibraphonissimo" was written especially for Gary Burton. As the album title suggests, this is Piazzolla's typical Tango Nuevo. But with Gary Burton on vibraphone – with Pablo Ziegler on piano, Fernando Suárez Paz on violin, Hector Console on double bass and Horacio Malvicino on electric guitar – it sounds a lot less irritating than the 'original sound' of Tango Nuevo, which I just can't get into and which normally bores me to tears. But for those of us who weren't convinced by Tango Nuevo before, this album is probably going to feel a bit samey and even a bit tiring at times. Fans of the genre will definitely find something they like in Piazzolla's discography. So, my rating is based on what I personally like; fans should definitely check this out. It's a real milestone. I'm just not interested in it at all.
