1001 Albums Summary

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 One of those weird averaging scores representative of neither extreme. Conceptually, poetically, lyrically damn near a 5—incredibly profound and moving stuff. This, if anything, is what will bring me back to You Want It Darker. Musically, instrumentally, it amounts to a stale 3, perhaps even a 2 sans vocals—there's nothing wrong with sparseness, per se, and Cohen's incredible, gruff voice and piano is often enough to carry the emotions, but after five songs or so, it sort of overstayed its welcome. This makes me feel like a shallow zoomer, maybe even one who's ontologically evil, especially given how much a thematically similar album like Blackstar means to me, hypocritically. This is a lyrical treasure, but musically falls flat, and I'm guessing Cohen hits harder with those oriented more towards the former. Me, I'm a feeler—the sound that words can't contain means more to me. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑, maybe even 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 from a more objective standpoint This album is such a blast—one of those sort of sonic variety feasts like People's Instinctive Travels, Paul's Boutique, or Midnite Vultures. Some real emotional breadth (and depth) too. Very funny, very sad, very sad and funny. My lack of a fifth star is only because—besides "So Fresh, So Clean" and "Mrs. Jackson," because I'm basic—very few songs, like, magically clicked/stood out from the symphony for me, even though they all had their own character. Maybe this was a mood thing, so the score may improve on another listen. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Feels so unserious to write serious Funkadelic thoughts when I could just say "fried ice cream is a reality" but my tbh serious thoughts are that this is great—real, real great—and the only thing holding it back is that some jams genuinely feel too diffuse to sustain the groove nation. I prob just need another enema idk 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑, maybe less if not for the Unfunky UFO Feels crazy to rate this low after getting funked so funktastically in my earhole, but having loved "Unfunky UFO" and "Give Up The Funk" for my whole life, I'm almost a little disappointed by the inferior funkometer readings on most of the other tracks. Most of these grooves were sparser, slower, almost as if the tempo was about 10 bpm behind, and I wonder if it's the sort of thing that hits better when you're stoned? Sober, it's not nearly so hypnotic. But I cannot be clear enough that under no circumstances will I be giving up the funk. No three star rating could wash my goats Parliament 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑, rounded down to decrease nuance Another evil rating from me because, though the groove is in my heart and always has been, I was once again a little let down by the expectations set by the famous title track. The production is literally boiling over with joy and layered like a De La song on "Groove is in the Heart," and while there's plenty of hints to be had across the rest of the album, it's really just 90s dance loops—"Good Beat" isn't false advertising when it's the second song, but after forty minutes, the beat starts to feel a little less good. Like Parliament, maybe this hits better at the clerb and not overstimulated on the smelly RTD with a kid yankin ya hair. Nothing can bring down my deee-lite for "Groove Is In The Heart" itself but it shall remain a matchless paragon. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 duh 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌑🌑🌑 (an uneven distribution of 1-4 star songs skewed by skeevy thievery) This score comes down to the context. I come from a Blur family, but I'm not so Jingoistic than I can't enter this with an open mind, and for the first five or so songs, I was having a good time—I'm not sure what's so special about Oasis, since I heard nothing other bands around this time weren't really doing, but they do that thing well and I was enjoying it. Once I got to Super Sonic, the Weezer-y, nineties, whiny guy schtick got to be a little bit insufferable, and I could tell even beneath the rock I live under that MTV rode some of these into the sunset. Even that, though, felt dubiously smarmy when certain harmonies hit, and I'll admit it—I sorta got it in glimmering moments of "Slide Away" and "Live Forever" (or was it "Up in the Sky"?). To me, in isolation, this is Oasis: cloying pop at worst, fiery rock at best. But here's the hitch: Oasis cannot exist in isolation. Ambushed by the opening riff of "Bang a Gong" retitled mega-hit "Cigarettes and Alcohol," I already felt territorial (and don't tell me it's because there's a limited amount of chords in rock and everyone's ripping everyone else off—there's coincidence, there's influence, and there's this, which anyone who's not a bad actor can plainly see), but this was before I read the lawsuit that ensued from "Shakermaker's" plagiarism, which made me feel like a chump for enjoying that song. I can—and not even that begrudgingly—forgive "Shakermaker" because it's clearly tongue-in-cheek parody, but knowing in retrospect that Noel and Liam Gallagher both thought they were the next John Lennon really limits my capacity for grace. Regardless of how hard they rock, or even how competently they can create a decent rock hook, knowing that these pompous blowhards got away with not only their plagiarism but their delusion of grandeur (still lauded by knowing music critics today) stacks me against this album. Two stars because of some fun performances and occasional bursts of talent, no more stars because they didn't create more originality with said talent. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 I've never heard a Kinks song I didn't like, but on an album without the drive of some of my favorite kinks hits and much topographical difference between songs, this album felt a little flat for me. Pretty much the definition of 3 stars in my book, which sounds meaner than I mean it. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up for emotional impact) Opinions: how strange. As usual, I made the mistake of browsing global reviews for american dream before even viewing the album, which somehow manage to offend me even for albums I've never heard. Case in point: I really enjoy a few LCD soundsystem songs, but haven't heard a full album, and almost skipped this one were it not for the reviews' comparisons to Brian Eno, Talking Heads, and David Bowie (all of whom did it better, and therefore no one else can ever touch post-punk again). While I have a feeling it's sort of a mistake to have listened to their last album first, this, to me, reaffirmed that I'm an alien whose fundamental, emotional makeup must be different to consensus humanity, because I really resonated with whatever's going on here. Derivative or not, James Murphy's one uptight motherfucker and I'll stand for that flag—it adds a particularity to his rhythms that itches the meticulous instinct in me. Very precise, but not at the cost of the emotionality whatsoever. Certainly, that could be subject to change—there's actually a melancholy that always struck me about LCD Soundsystem, ever since I was a little kid, and it's something that I feel furtive approaching—it's not always something I want to immerse myself in given its glum droopiness. I'm gonna give this a four because a few songs really hit a spot for me, but compared with Remain in Light and Low (the other two fours at this point), it might fall just short—I'll have to listen again and see. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 I know nothing about him, but my latent, genetic snobbery instinctively turned its nose up at the name "Van Morrison." Upon listening, I was kind of blown away by how spellbound I was from track 3 on. I feel a little sheepish about it because of how overtly cheesy his borderline scatting free-styling is, but the orchestration was so atmospheric and gorgeous. No one song really stood out, which kind of just makes the album a folk-jazz slurry. However, I know I'm pretty susceptible to saccharine sixties sounds on a first listen and I regret any interest later, so I have a feeling this score will drop. I'm a weird voice enjoyer, so the fact that I already find his vocals a little grating means things are bound to fall off between me and Astral Weeks eventually. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 OH NOOOOO, OH PLEASE GOD HELP ME!!!!! When I was an angsty thirteen year old and Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, and Wolfmother were my lifeblood, I thought this album—even that first song—was just okay, a little slow for my liking. Why then, have I kept waking up with little licks of "N.I.B," "The Wizard," "Wicked World," and "Behind the Wall of Sleep" stuck in my head for nearly the next thirteen years of my life? A fantastic album, especially considering the historical context. My rating would be higher, but I had to hold myself back and admit this album does meander quite a bit, squiggling over into Iommi spaghetti or else devolving into sort of yawning, atmospheric sections without much resolution. For as strong of a debut as this is, they wouldn't be the Black Sabbath everyone pretends to know and love without Paranoid first. But still—incredible start. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Huge Julian Cope fan, slightly less huge Echo and the Bunnymen fan, blossoming Smiths fan, and I already liked "Sleeping Gas," but even with all that stacked in its favor I felt wary going into "Kilimanjaro." No matter how many great bands coalesced after the balkanization of The Teardrop Explodes, I just had a feeling it'd be too early for any of their individual strengths to have shown through. Okay, that said, I did enjoy this a little more than I expected, though I think it plateaus pretty hard after the first few songs and eventually disintegrates. Tacking on the EP starting with "Reward" at the end of the official release definitely doesn't help. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down because I don't see myself listening often) People are so rude dude! So many of the global reviews are passing this by blasé or downplaying its accomplishment as "amateur" and "teenage" as if it didn't erupt near-fully realized from the brain of a nineteen-year-old boy. Have any of them birthed an unfiltered, unique vision like this? Every human has one swimming somewhere beneath the surface, that I'm sure of, but so few know to treat them like a newborn baby. Okay, maybe a rough-and-tumble toddler with superpowers like being impervious to rocks or snooty commentary. Even still—I get so offended sometimes for music I don't even like because someone saw into another person's soul and said they didn't like the look of it. Huh! My reviews are based on my own resonance with something, and unless said something is obviously corporate lab-grown crap or imitation meat (or unless it really, really hurts somebody), I try to keep my ratings fair. But I don't need to explain myself, because I'm the only one who sees these anyway besides Emily (hi Emily) so it's really just ramblings. And not even about Tubular Bells! Maybe it's because I don't listen to a lot of prog rock, but for 1973 (even if it was post-Pink Floyd), this composition has such startling range. Really hypnotic and mature at times, other times crass and abrasive, and the transitions between these swings are often decently smooth. I'll have to listen again sometime to be sure, but honestly, I'd play this to get into a creative state of mind, do homework, write, or even just to enjoy the atmosphere. The growling section might challenge that, but honestly, after the way everyone described it, you'd think they'd never heard any metal—pearl-clutching, honestly. I mean, what do these people listen to?! 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑, maybe even 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 (rounded up for emotional impact) For as much as I love TV on the Radio, I haven't listened to a full album of theirs save for their latest, Seeds, so this is as good a place to start as any. Incredible sound on this one, but it would've ranked higher if there were more individual standout songs, I think. "Staring at the Sun" could be a top 100 song for me, and is most certainly in my top 1001 songs, so it's a lot of pressure, but few songs felt like something I'd listen to separately, if that makes sense. Still a really fascinating atmosphere (I miss the moodiness of early TVOTR) and I will be listening again. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑, though may well have been a 🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 if I was in a worse mood So I only knew of Patti Smith, as it turns out, from a song title I will not be writing out here, but luckily I had forgotten long enough to leave my impression of Horses untarnished. One thing with Punk that seems to hold true even as far back as this proto-punk is that it can sound a little flat without a lot of drive and a properly monotone yell, and at its worst, I think Horses is that. Not at its worst, interestingly, are the nine-minute, fervent, spoken-word that I suspect have incited many an eye roll since the seventies. I, to my own surprise, kind of dug them—they're the kind of thing I think I was socialized to dislike but have really come around to now that I've fully embraced my own pretentiousness. The first and last songs are the only ones I can see myself coming back to frequently, but that's more than I was expecting from this album—really fun and exciting. This Patti Smith gal is really something, hope she doesn't have any controversial takes on race in her future! 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑, rounded up for repeat enjoyment For someone who's always yakkin about British music, I've heard shamefully little pulp, and wouldn't have given Richard Hawley a second glance were it not for the connection. For an album global reviewers called "the most British thing ever," though, I'm a bit disappointed—this was, like, the most American British thing ever. I was pleasantly surprised by this Roy Orbison / Chris Isaak sound, though it skewed a bit too Sinatra for me at times. I'm not sure I'd listen to the whole thing through again (though it was very peaceful), but there are at least three standouts for me, which is big. Big stuff happening across the pond. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌗🌑🌑🌑 (rounded up because it isn't, like, evil) I'm not gonna remember it exactly, but there's a Brian Eno quote I often think about that says, essentially, that the qualities of songs we're nostalgic for, or that we feel the strongest connection to, are when the music is straining against the technology of the time. Grainy record static, compressed MP3s, etc—these things come to define a sound because (and this is my extrapolation) the feeling is struggling to reach through the imperfect materiality of the medium. After seeing some mediocre reviews, I was ready to go to bat for this album—one which I normally might've skipped. What a surprise that I come to find my opinion is actually significantly lower than global consensus, which sucks because John Lee Hooker is legendary and because this is such a kickass album cover. That said, this music isn't really John Lee Hooker, is it? This is a collaboration album, and by my estimation, there are way too many cooks in the kitchen, and also, most of them aren't even cooks and they're just cracking eggs because they've seen cooks do that before. The majority of this album is certified middle-aged barfly band material, and I'm fairly certain it's because this blues ain't straining. Much as it must have been futuristic for Hooker, the production is painfully eighties, and clean electric guitar and tepid percussion belong nowhere near the blues—one might even argue electricity belongs nowhere near the blues, but I'd say it just doesn't work without distortion. It isn't my interpretation of Eno's quote that music isn't worthwhile if it's not innovating, nor do I even feel Hooker isn't innovating on The Healer—for him, I bet that's exactly what these collaborations were for. However, here's where something went wrong: either this chance to collaborate with a blues legend meant collaborators toned *down* their younger innovative urges, or, on the other end of the spectrum, they perceived the cleanliness of their era's production as an improvement on the dirtiness of blues. I'm not sure which went wrong, exactly, but this feels like a fundamental misunderstanding of the genre they're working with. Even his three solo tracks that close this album seem to misunderstand this, if I can go so far as to say John Lee Hooker momentarily misunderstood the blues (and secure my cell in Hell)—though they're much closer to the feeling than any of that Santana crap, they lose some of their power in such a relaxed, soft, sonic setting. The blues is rugged, mournful, feral—it can't be caged, but apparently, it can be domesticated. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 right now, may descend to a 🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 depending on my mood and repeat listens So I knew it was a terrible idea to start with Leonard Cohen's last album/magnum opus as per this list, but I'm glad to have still given his first album a chance. Since my wretched vice is looking at global reviews before seeing what I think for myself, I always end up with some standoffish opinion based on the loudest consensus, and Songs of Leonard Cohen is no exception. Oddly enough, my hesitation is because of a five-star review, and once again, guilt for not really "getting" what's so emotional for people. I've had this working theory going into these albums that thinking-oriented people enjoy lyric-oriented and sparser music (ranging from folk to rap) because there's generally a logical (even if artful) articulation of the feeling being conveyed, whereas feeling-oriented people enjoy musically-oriented, uh, music because sound is a pre-rational expression of feeling that cuts past the ego. Granted, there's more to it—I feel like technically impressive musical acrobatics also tend to be enjoyed by more thinking folks—but I've been pretty assured by this claim until I saw a five-star review of Songs of Leonard Cohen saying the opposite. Essentially, their deal is that because lots of non-english speakers get Leonard Cohen, you have to feel him first, and so more feeling-oriented people like him. Well, coming from the feeling camp, now I'm a poser, because I'm not totally overwhelmed by the connection. Clearly, it's more complicated than I thought. That's not to say I didn't like Songs of Leonard Cohen (duh)—both musically and lyrically, this was a really interesting experience. Like most folk music I know, there'll be notes of weirdness that I wish they'd crank up like 25% more—as it currently is, the subtlety only allows for twinges of off-kilter emotions, which isn't really enough to bathe in. That said, I bet this would've been spellbinding to see live, and maybe that's the component I'm missing. Even so, there were lines that I'd ooh and ah at, consider sending to a friend or pinning on the fridge, and the sparseness of the music largely benefited the atmosphere it was aiming for. Essentially, this is a textbook 4 as per my scale—technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally. However, considering I've only rated 4s so far, that's about the best I could expect anyone to do, so go gettem, Leo. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 This is one of those ratings that's an average—there's some two moments and some four moments, and I have to settle somewhere in between. I only knew (and loved) the song "A Pagan Place" from The Waterboys so this piqued my curiosity, but I left with mixed feelings. On the one hand, something triggered a cheesiness reaction in me, and I felt like I wasn't supposed to enjoy the parts I was enjoying because of the twang, the lyrics, or the unabashed scatting. I mean, as good as that jam was, does it really eclipse sort of Van Morrison-ing the entirety of "Blackbird" in the middle of it? On the other hand, yea, that jam really was good, as was much of the rock fiddling for many of these songs—the spirit was high and, as I feel like I say too much in these things, I bet it'd be easy to get swept up dancing to these songs live. Things really began to get grating around "And a Bang on the Ear," which I was relieved was coming to an end lyrically about five minutes in until I realized we were barely halfway through. By the end of the album, I had four songs saved and more conflict than I'd expected, so I listened to "A Pagan Place" again and realized that this is what was missing from Fisherman's Blues: the reverence, the joy, that elevated the already excellent instrumentation. Without it, this seems like great music to enjoy live but, for me, not to revisit. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 I'd heard four songs off of the album before I listened to this one, three of which I'd say are the album's best, so odds seemed stacked slightly against Strangeways for exceeding my expectations. How did they do it? Those Smiths kept up their momentum until the last three songs or so, and even "I Won't Share You"—the fourth I'd heard—will I'm sure hit just right when the right time hits. The only reason this isn't higher is because nothing is like, transcendentally good (although "Unhappy Birthday" comes close), otherwise this would be an easy 5. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Not the easiest 4 of my life only because I so wanted to give this a 5. If they could've kept up the momentum of the first half this wouldn't been perfect, but as much as I love "Lava" or "There's a Moon in the Sky Called the Moon" or even that cover of "Downtown" everyone seems to hate, it wears a little thin after a bit. Still a monumental altar of weirdness and I love them so much H.I. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded up because I know I'm being too cautious, but truly, I wish I could give this an actual 2.5 exactly) Love Tom Waits's voice, the jazz instrumentation is really smooth, and the atmosphere, overall, is great, but I'm having some reservations about this one. It should bug me how much of a performance he's putting on—like, I know all music is performance, but I hate when someone is trying to be someone else so hard. Except—and I'm not sure about this, especially given the length of this album—I don't find it all that grating. It's almost, like, sooo overdone that it becomes like a cartoon character. The dimwitted goon laugh, the lisp, the ashtray, the slurred murmuring... it was just so rich that it sort of became enjoyable. True, some cracks started showing in the inconsistent humor and more inconsistent accent, but I guess my disbelief was sufficiently suspended. Still, there's some discomfort in the fact that he's obviously doing some kind of blaccent? And even more discomfort in the fact that I'm less bugged by this and more bugged by the runtime. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up for the first four songs—four fives) I'm in a weird, in-between space with R.E.M.—I don't like them, exactly, after years of feeling endlessly peeved hearing them captive in my parents' car, but I'm almost defensive of them because of their familiarity. Maybe I just got Stockholmed again, but I've really come around to a lot of their music, and, to their credit, most of the songs of theirs I've always liked are on this album. Actually, the first four songs are classics of my childhood that I really treasure. Hearing them back to back, I was almost convinced this album had all-timer momentum, but unfortunately, the rest was pretty middling. Maybe I'll come around to it the way I've come around to the rest of R.E.M., but for those first songs alone, this gets 3.5. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 I come from a Blur family, like I might've mentioned impartially in my Oasis review, so this comparatively mediocre rating surprised me—as was, again, the bands' chilling similarities. Both really put the "pop" in Britpop more than I'd naïvely expected (I know, but considering Damon Albarn's later innovations with Gorillaz and Blur's later innovations with albums like 13 or Think Tank), and both really take a little too much from their predecessors (though Blur's Bowie thievery on "Girls and Boys"—hey, didn't LCD Soundsystem also yoink from that one? And St. Vincent?—feels miles more forgivable than "Cigarettes and Alcohol" because at least these Boys and Girls did something different). I'd even say they were thematically similar, though I'm not sure if Blur yoinked that from Oasis, Britpop on Britpop violence style. Ultimately, this one comes out on top because it's already so much more creative and adventurous than I'd expect from a pop record, even if it pales in comparison to what Blur would later do. I found the pop-ness of Parklife to be a little much at times (maybe it was just my mood), but even today I couldn't deny they were having fun. I still downloaded the whole thing—not sure if I'll listen again many times, but I will at least once. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 When I discovered Nilsson Schmilsson a few years ago, it was because I kept finding cool and seemingly unrelated-sounding songs all from the same album. This, by the way, includes the infamous "Lime in the Coconut" song, which is, annoying as it is, also maybe the best song on the album, and certainly the bravest, and I will defend (almost) everything about it—a genuinely eerie and wild and funny song. Once I'd found three or so that I loved, I knew it was time for me to listen to the album. Unfortunately—with the DISTINCT exception of "Jump into the Fire"—most everything else didn't quite have the same sauce as the three I'd heard previously. Quite similarly to REM's Green, I think I have so much fondness for the now-four songs off of Nilsson Schmilsson that it radiates outwards to the album as a whole, even though I'm uncertain if I'll ever listen to the album as a whole again. I wouldn't write it off, but for all of Nilsson's delightful weirdness, he's just as much El Cornballer, making the popular Beatles comparisons weak to me. Still great, though. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Really interesting and fun—not to mention referenced so many times by artists I love that it felt instantly familiar—but not something I see myself returning to. As dynamic as the musicianship is, the music itself doesn't feel all that dynamic to me. If I were to return to it, I'd check out 4, 5, or 2, though—maybe I just wasn't in the right mood for them. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down based on average of every song) I all-caps LOVE "Criminal" and "Shadowboxer"—o such drama! extended jams! et cetera!—so I was really excited to dive into this album, but unfortunately, it seems I heard the best tracks first (many such cases). Fiona Apple has an incredible persona, her lyrics are raw, and this singer-songwriter piano style was the perfect place to wring that rawness out of. I really think that energy could've carried this album all the way through, but (even with great lyrics) I think the momentum died down by the end. This rating may bump significantly if I let it sink in, though, because "Sleep to Dream," "Pale September," and "Carrion" were all musically interesting enough that I'd revisit them, and "Sullen Girl" and "The Child is Gone" felt very emotionally compelling enough that I might as well listen to them again, too, and that's the whole album, I guess. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded down because #beatmickjaggertodeath) I wouldn't say I'm a Rolling Stones defender but when they hit it, they hit it, and I think that'll be harder to deny on some of the later albums of this list. That said, "Under My Thumb?" "Stupid Girl?" Even if they're supposed to be tongue in cheek... are they funny? Deeply rapey aura radiating off of these second-rate Kinks. Actually, I think this could've been on par with the star higher Kinks album we just heard, as it would suffer from the same "good but forgettable" feeling were it not for, you know, the rapeyness. If I were a truely moral and good person, any rapeyness would result in a reduction to, uh, zero stars, but unfortunately, perverts are allowed to write good music. Cis man opinion out 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 (rounded up because come on) I was not expecting this to be my first five stars—like, at all—but I'll qualify it by saying this five stars is different from any I've anticipated. I am not a live album guy, but this feels like the difference between judging a painting and a photo, or music vs. a documentary about music. The fact that the album is live IS why it's so good, and the energy between Johnny and his audience takes a great set and makes it an experience, which sounds like ChatGPT but it's just true. I was like, "why I am moved by this Christian stuff," but it's because Christianity only hits when there's persecution it's resisting, and that's what makes this so great, you know? I think if this had caught me in a worse mood, I would've felt Cash's prison references were heavy-handed pandering (especially considering he'd never been to jail) and that turning "Folsom Prison Blues" into like a cheerful theme song sours the whole thing, but in whatever bout of sentimentality I'm in the midst of, it felt sincere and sincerely moving. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Once again dumbfounded by how much this album upset everyone listening. From the reviews you'd think this was ten hours of chainsaw revving, orgasms, and chewing noises interspersed with dissonant choral harmonies. With the exception, I gotta admit, of "Thriller!" (which did not earn its exclamation point) and "Blow Daddy-O," this wasn't really all that avant-garde. Squirrelly, maybe, but really only like 20% more than, say, Television (which I think is the missing soundalike to balance out everyone's Talking Heads take). Much as I feel that reactionary urge, I'm not gonna give it five stars or anything to balance everybody out—I thought it was cool, fun, and inventive, but it's not something I think I'd revisit. There were three or so songs I liked where their groove cut through the dissonance, and there were also songs I actively disliked because it felt like they were trying too hard to be obnoxious (whatever that drunken sailor business was). Absolutely worthwhile inclusion, and not something to get anyone's feathers ruffled over. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 (should be a star higher given historical context but could go half a star lower on enjoyment) Sacrilegiously, this is fine. Elvis has a great voice, inspired some of the best musicians of all time, and, uh, was tactically deployed by record labels to make "black music" palatable, which is why he has soooo many covers. That's obviously bad, but I'm not trying to make a statement with my rating or anything—maybe I'm not woke enough, but that doesn't seem like something I want to pin on Elvis himself. Whoever chose these songs to cover had palatability in mind, though, because they're all pretty bland, man. I feel like the Elvis I like has a bit more of a blues edge to it—at the very least a crunch or a different key. There just doesn't seem to be much going on with this one, you know? 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded down for exhaustion) Went out on a limb with this one and was kind of disappointed about it. I normally love this type of music, which might be why I'm so harsh on it, but this feels like it's sort of the flattest version of 60s hard rock. Though the sounds are similar, this and Hendrix are night and day, right? And sure, maybe it's evil to compare Hendrix to this, but I mean... I don't know... Sabbath? Love? I don't know man. The vocals were fun and the guitars were fun but boy did nothing come of them. Ran me down by the end of it and put me in a bad mood. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Really fun, may deserve a half-star more, but I can't see myself revisiting a ton of these songs (though I think I'd come back to more than I've decided now). I'd only heard "Love Spreads" from Severance as well as "I Wanna Be Adored" and "Fool's Gold" from this album but I think "Love Spreads" in particular gave me a false impression of how rockin' Stone Roses would be because I'm always disappointed they're not rockin' like that. Still, I could come to appreciate how nineties psychedelic this is. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 (though could easily be 🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 were I not feeling so magnanimous) Where do I know Pretenders from?? I swear I know at least one of their songs, but their sound is so generically early eighties that I can't place them. This cheesy, clean production on punk is one marked step towards its commercialization, but I'm kind of a sucker for this. The frontwoman is doing a B-52s, dare I say a Frank-n-furter, with her delivery, and even though she's not exactly possessed by the Rocky Horror spirit I can't say it wasn't fun. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded down, but with the potential to be rounded up if I were in a different mood). This is a very similar situation to Deee-Lite—I loved the most popular (and, I think, objectively best) song on the album, "Praise You," but found the rest of the offerings to be a lot more repetitive and less detailed than the single in question. This felt a little better than Deee-Lite and I have a feeling if I wasn't so tired I'd really enjoy it, but I'm having trouble convincing myself to go back and listen again. It seems like the sort of thing I'd have to already be in a dance trance to get. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Having already heard "London Calling," "Rudie Can't Fail," and "Train in Vain (Stand By Me)," I was expecting between a 3 and a 3.5. Dead on, for once, because every other song sounds pretty much the same. That's sort of harsh, but I really wanted to like this more given how extensive its influences are and how extensive its influence on music going forward would be. They have so much potential, and I guess I was expecting to hear more of it expressed—I think my favorite songs were all the ones that stood out a bit, but none really beat "Train In Vain" for me. I hate the posturing of Punk, so all the reviews that are calling the Clash a "boy band" or "nepo babies" aren't people I exactly want to side with, but also... I mean, they're not that far off, especially considering how close to early brit-pop this seems. Still a fun listen, just a bit overlong for something so samey. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Much like with Pere Ubu, how could this possibly be one of the lowest ranked albums of THOUSANDS? Sheryl Crow is higher than this?? I don't mean to be one of those dudes, but genuinely, you can't handle a little dissonance?! This was pretty fun, although as usual, I think 47 minutes at this level of noise with little variance is pushing it. That said, every song has its own character and I enjoyed that. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded up because I was still feeling it) So many aspects of this feel like something I like, something I should like—hell, they even sound like a lot of bands I do like—but I can't nail down what the difference really is, or even what the soundalikes are. Somehow there was energy and not feeling, which killed any momentum for me despite some decently driving guitars. Was bobbing my head to a lot of it but I didn't feel the need to save any. Very cusp. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Once again helplessly screaming into the void at internet normoids who think this is just noise. THIS is just noise? And this is, I would say, pretty objective incredulity, because a lot of the jazzy riffing happens over a really consistent foundation. Like, the rhythm is fairly clear, is it not? No wonder The Birthday Party and Pere Ubu are unlistenable to some people. I have never felt the need to use sensitive derogatorily before this, but man... My expectations were set so transcendentally high for A Love Supreme that I knew I'd be let down somehow. I even tried to temper my expectations—I knew I'd have to when I read the review of the guy saying he went in skeptically but was crying halfway through Psalm—it's just that as such a feeling person, I want to deeply feel what others feel and be a part of all that feeling, you know? Anyways, I was worried it wasn't gonna click during Parts 1 & 2, but things really kicked into high gear in 3 & 4, which is when I knew this needed a second listen. Granted, I'm not sure it felt like God was in my ears or anything (although everything will pale in comparison if that's your standard), but I'm hoping by my second or third listen I'll really catch the feeling. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded up because I enjoyed some parts, but I truly wish I did not have to round at all) Was mighty pleased with myself when I walked into the kitchen and said "this sounds like Faces" while Emily was playing this. Much like Faces, this album has some really rockin' songs if I do say so myself but also has its fair share of uneventful, even somewhat nose-wrinkling, songs. They all have a distinct character, and I can't fault them for that, but this goes a little too twang for me without the seedy counterbalance of a song like "Stay With Me." 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded up because I liked her voice) What am I missing here? I chose to listen to this one because I'd heard "Son of a Preacher Man" before (and, unwittingly, the Mel Tormé cover of "Windmills of your Mind"), but it turns out that was sort of the one "big" song on an otherwise silky, lush record. Neither of those things are bad, though I found them to be a bit played out by the end. This isn't the first time I've really wanted to like this era of Soul, but it just feels a bit too cheesy for me after a while—the luster wears off so fast because, I think, it's one-dimensional, but I'm sure they'd have my head for that. Like I said, Dusty Springfield herself has a great persona, and the strings are too nice overall for me to rate this as anything below 2.5 stars, but it just didn't do a lot for me. Considering how much this album seems to mean for so many people, I wish it did more. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up because come on) DEVOBRIANENO!! I have been anticipating this album since we started this list (although two months isn't all that long compared to the, like, three thousand years we have until we finish the list), and judging from how balls-to-the-wall Satisfaction, Mongoloid, and Gut Feeling are, I was expecting this to be a solid four. Unfortunately, this one's yet another where I'd heard all of my favorite songs first, though not nearly as severe a case as, say, Clash's London Calling, most recent- and egregious-ly. This one was a lot of fun and scratches the uptightness itch I have for most post-punk stuff. Between Devo and Talking Heads, a lot of my faves owe a lot of their fame to this period (Oingo Boingo? They Might Be Giants? XTC? The Feelies?). Maybe it's not the most technically inventive, but that's never what makes an album great. The way they destroy "Gut Feeling" and then coalesce again is THE. SHIT. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 (rounded up for the cohesive whole) GOD DAYUM!!!! Nighthawks at the Diner can kiss my ass! So glad I gave Tom Waits another chance, because Bone Machine is just incredible. I don't know what makes this click more than, say, my middling reaction to Pere Ubu (though the fact that I keep mentioning them is worth something), but the totally bizarre parts of this album still coalesce into a zero-miss lineup. I tried to like this a lot less than I did, but I was giddier with each new track. Delightfully creepy, miraculously dissonant, and surprisingly emotional in its highs and lows for a piss-drunk ghoul repeatedly slamming the silverware drawer. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Okay Miss Demeanor! Apple Music's description for this album begins with a quote from the Missus herself about how she's not making music for the year 1997; she's making music for the year 2000. Presciently, artistic foresight spanning three years hence is actually an apt descriptor for this album's sound. Okay, so it's dated, but I'll be damned if it's not kind of fun. Certainly, its low tempo keeps it from being, I don't know, hype? But I don't know if it's setting out to be that—for something performing such a distinct stereotype, it's surprisingly comfortable in its corniness. Something about the acknowledgements even made me a little emotional. I don't know, it's not something I want to revisit, but there were a couple of songs in there I'm going to revisit anyways because I thought they were begrudgingly fun (it was a stretch of about four before the Jamaican accent hit). The top review on this site for Supa Dupa Fly says Missy deserves her spot on this list, but not for this album, since she has better work and this seems to be a more historical inclusion. I'm not sure what the metrics intended for inclusion on this list were, exactly, but I think this reviewer is dead-on: for all its historical importance, it's also gotta be, like, a real powerhouse album to have been truly defining, right? 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down because whatever) Much like Bone Machine, I kind of wish I'd found this album in high school, although only this one would've aged worse. I think this has a real nice wry, whiny teenage feeling to it that I can imagine really resonating with for several of these songs, although I think I'd get sick of them after many, many repeat plays. I already knew (and loved) "Cut Your Hair" and enjoyed "Stop Breathin'" a lot, but I can see myself listening to the entire album again and liking it more, which I plan to. Who knows—maybe I'll even edit this rating to be higher. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down because of the overall effect) Something else by the Kinks, and so soon after the last thing by the kinks—what difference is there, really? Well, in fairness, I knew more songs off of this one—"Waterloo Sunset," "David Watts," and "Death of a Clown" are all saved, though they're amongst my least favorite Kinks songs in my library. That being said, I definitely enjoyed them this time around, maybe simply due to the fact that they were familiar faces in an unexpected setting. I also really enjoyed a few other songs on this album, though none powerfully so. Overall, though, this one was mellower than I like my kinks—certainly the them at the most "hum dee dum" / "hi-ho" British I've ever heard them, and while I'm not opposed to that as a whole, it doesn't amount to much looking back. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 I was really, really trying to not rate this five stars and almost succeeded. I gotta say, for as many five-star songs as there are, there's a lot that technically rock but that I wish I clicked with more. Turns out, I just needed to listen to it again, but louder. "Third Stone From the Sun" is a prime example btw. Only Jimi can make shredding electric sound poetic and gentle. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (begrudgingly rounded down because of the mood it left me with). This album is truly a 2.5, and rating it any higher or lower feels like a lie to me. Every song has different character, but it all sort of sounds like the precursor to a very annoying kind of pop-rap that dominated the last decade. I'd be like, "boy, this sounds like Pharrell Williams, and not in a good way." What do you know, he's featured! Cee Lo is a great singer and a less than great rapper. It's earnest (the kid was so sweet) and also it's performative (selling soul was so... not sweet). It's corny (good, like that Parliament bit) and corny (bad, like... the entire overall album). I was having fun but I was also groaning internally. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down for lack of replay potential) Better than my bigoted Coldplay heart set me up for. The percussion bordered on earlyish Radiohead-esque, and I felt like this had an earlyish U2 feeling even. It got a little too ballady by the end but I enjoyed it. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down very, very, very tentatively because it sorta blended together) Having heard a lot about Hejira and assumed a lot about Joni Mitchell, I was worried this was either going to be so cheesy it triggers my lactose diarrhea reaction or, maybe less viscerally, so good it makes me reconsider my biases. I think it was neither, but still not bad. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to it on a plane for the first time, because what I got from it was mainly the music, when it's the vocals and lyrics that are, I think, the real selling point. Unfortunately, the only lyrics I heard were "you are russia I am america we're in a cold war we need peace talks." What's that Taylor swift lyric? "You rode in on a horse / I was the horse"? 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up because I can see several of these songs growing on me) Obviously I'd heard Message in a Bottle, but was surprised at how consistent the rest of the album was. Really uptempo, really distinct voice, really enthusiastic and complex instrumentation. There were some reggae parts I was like, huh, I don't know if I can get into this, but Emily so kindly pointed out the title is "White Reggae" and then that cleared it up. Will definitely relisten—if this is this good, I'm so excited to see what Synchronicity's got. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Chanced it with this one because of so many comparisons to bands I love (XTC, Sparks) and bands I'm ambivalent towards (Queen, Cheap Trick, ELO) and while I see the resemblance, I'm not sure it clicked as I'd like it to. I wanted to defend these guys wholeheartedly for their scatterbrained creativity, but I can sort of tell where the annoyance bit comes in for one reason or another. One of those things I struggle to quantify, even more so when I realize they're likely responsible for both the nerdier eclectic bands I like (They Might Be Giants, Of Montreal) and the nerdier eclectic bands I absolutely do not under any circumstances endorse (Tally Hall, Weezer). Saved many songs nonetheless! 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (+0.5 for technical achievement, but rounded down for personal enjoyment) When I saw how low Underwater Moonlight by the Softboys was rated, I thought to myself, well, maybe it's time to nuke the world. Luckily, my access to the football has been delayed long enough for me to self-reflect and right my wrongs. I think, in a timeline where I was baptized in R&B rather than College Rock, I'd feel about The Poet there the way I do about Underwater Moonlight here. Undeniably, this is a tight album, front to back—every song has its own character but not without sacrificing its overall identity, it doesn't lose momentum until the last few songs (and even then, there was plenty I enjoyed about the last one), every song is probably a soul gem, it's funny, it's danceable, it's emotional, Bobby's got pipes... on and on. I think, were I another person, it'd be criminal to rank this lower than a four. All that said, in this timeline, I just didn't click with it, and I struggle with that given how objectively good it is. I don't know... something about this eighties style is just kind of cheesy to me, which is hypocritical, considering how much dated music I like (see Underwater Moonlight). More and more, I just have to accept that my music taste does not reflect objective goodness, and some things just aren't for me. That's not to say I don't really respect this one, or even that I liked none of what it had to offer—"Stand Up" was fantastic, and I'd listen to "Just my Imagination" and the last song again, for sure. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded down my rating because they dumbed down these lyrics for the lowest common denominator) Okay. Alright. I gave this one a shot because Adele was really important to Emily growing up and, for someone who lives under a rock, I have very few—if any—conceptions as to what Adele should sound like. For perspective, my first exposure to the song "Hello" was a Westboro Baptist Church parody (don't ask), and I only recognized "Send My Love (To Your New Lover)" from, y'know, "Semaluhtounuyulohowwah." Really, I was a pretty clean slate. Musically, I've got to say, there's plenty to like here. Everyone's already given Adele her flowers as a vocalist (though, and I'm not even saying this to be some kind of asshole, I feel like she's at times too controlled to really feel raw, right? Still impressive belting on a lot of these, but it didn't rip me open, I guess), but for as overproduced as this album is, some of the melodies are pretty fun. I genuinely enjoyed “I Miss You,” and I loved the sort of warped, fuzzy production on the background harmonies of that one, "Water under the bridge," and "River Lea." Actually, I have mixed feelings about "River Lea" in particular—it's super, uh, this era of pop with sort of an overproduced funk hook but, much as I tried not to, I kind of got into it. It reminds me of newer Hozier a bit, which I hope carries as much good as it does bad. That said—and with my sincerest apologies to little Emily—some of these lyrics are, to me, just awful. I started writing down the ones that made me groan so I could add them here but, and I feel cruel saying this, there was just too many to make it practical. When I was a kid and would write lyrics or poetry, I'd often throw in filler words to clunkily fill the meter, but listening back, I was always disappointed you could tell. Here are some that sound like that: “When the night keeps you from sleeping” “I should probably tell you now before it’s way too late / that I never meant to hurt you or to lie straight to your face” “Life was a party to be thrown / but that was a million years ago” “When the world seems so cruel / and your heart makes you feel like a fool” Lyrical fluff abound! Sometimes, there's also these passages that have a similar not-quite-human feeling, like they're grasping for a metaphor. This is also very evil of me, but if these lines were released today, I'd say they sounded like AI: “If you’re not the one for me / then how come I can bring you to your knees?” “I wish I could live a little more / look up at the sky and not the floor” There are a few that feel like they're trying to tap into a feeling that hasn't been felt, but look, who am I to judge? I don't know, something like this felt like it was grasping at straws: “When I walk around all of the streets / where I grew up and found my feet / they can’t look me in the eye / it’s like they’re scared of me” Finally, the simplicity of these words lulled me into feeling (correctly) like I could just predict which rhyme came next. But then there were rhymes that were so bad they looped back around to being unpredictable? Like, take this one: “Have I ever asked for much? / The only thing that I want is your ___” what’s it gonna be? Touch? NO! "Love"??? Huh?? Look, I really regret how mean all of this comes off, but truly, where the lyrics are a 1, I genuinely feel like the music alone would've been a 3. Sorry, Emily.

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 A truck totaled my car while I was listening to this, specifically "if I am," and I still don't remember any of it. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that my head hit the steering wheel very hard. I knew My Bloody Valentine from some Loveless songs and a couple of EP bits—I think I only remember "Slow," "You Made Me Realize," and "Only Shallow" off the top of my head, which are all great and also all kind of abrasive in a way that's tough for me to get into if it isn't hooky. I think specifically My Bloody Valentine's barrier to entry, for me, is the haziness of their ambience, but once I settle into it I end up really liking it. There were a lot of songs on this album that have potential for me to warm up to but as it stands right now there aren't many I love yet. I think I wanted to like this one more than I did, too, which may impact the rating. All in all, still solid, but not my fave. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 I have very little to say about this one for some reason. I think it’s very competent club music and I love the dour sass of those boys but, unlike with some of their “Actually” songs (the classics), none of these really stood out to me. It doesn’t feel very scientific why, because I bet I could be persuaded to like some of these, but 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down for re-listen value) Another one that makes me hang my head and say "I'm 25, what am I doing with my life?" Incredible that this came out of a 20 year old, but in sort of a different way than, say, Kate Bush's "The Kick Inside" because it's like, shit, he's been through it. In light of that it feels evil to give this any lower than a 4, especially with the poetry on display, but it really does excel more at the poetry than the music. The beats aren't bad—I enjoyed every song—but there are very few I'd come back and listen to because the music itself went in one ear and out the other. One Love with Q-Tip was my favorite, or maybe hit me the hardest. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 I had big expectations for this one going into it—I knew at least "Debaser," "Wave of Mutilation," "Here Comes Your Man," and "Monkey Gone to Heaven" going in, though a couple more sounded familiar—but it did not disappoint. I knew it would be good, but I think there's a part of me that feels almost afraid of the Pixies because of their manic emotionality. "Wave of Mutilation" is one of several Pixies songs that makes me feel a little, no pun intended, debased emotionally—I feel, in the distance, a sort of trembling, confused crying that I'm afraid will come within infectious distance if I listen to more of their stuff. Like "Where is My Mind???" it's beautiful and also a little unpredictable and I think that's what sets me on edge. Fortunately, this was way more fun than it was challenging. Really consistent sound while still being creative, and it's that sound that basically defined the 90s and countless bands I love. I think the only reason this isn't a 5 is that it sort of peters out towards the end—though the songs are still fun, they're not as memorable to me. Will be listening again though. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌑🌑🌑 My Dad raised me a metal snob, often shielding me from dangerous Nu-identifying deviants and general buttrockery, so the sheltered bigot in me shivered at the name Pantera, though I knew not why. Having read some of the more colorful reviews of this album, I was delighted to discover Phil Anselmo's prolific history raging agnostically towards the machine, and had my expectations low purely because he seems to be a perpetually immature guy. I could've gone as high as a three on some of these early songs—sort of clean and flat in the way a lot of thrash metal ends up sounding to me, but very headbangable, and toward the better end of the spectrum of songs my Tae-Kwon-Do instructor would blast during burpees. They're definitely doing kind of a Motörhead thing sometimes, a Metallica thing other times, and a little too Oasis-ly doing Judas Priest toward the end there. Was put off by the bully-aggro "Walk" and "F*****g Hostile," but was delighted to recognize the opening riff of "This Love" from Dexter meme edits, I think—it's a shame they really do it to death with three re-introductions. Where this one ultimately lost me was in the enlightened centrist eye-rolls of "Rise" and "No Good (Attack the Radical)," which are about the least metal thing possible. I can easily forgive the accidental racism of an immature contrarian (not because it's okay, but because it's so meaningless), but I can't forgive rap-metal, which rears its ugly head here, which was the final nail in the coffin. Still, I can't deny the headbangability, which is perhaps the last thing preventing me from giving this a flat-out 1. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Okay, sorry, I've heard and dismissed "Strange Brew" and "Sunshine of Your Love" at many a dad jam—I don't know how to articulate this, exactly, but a lot of 60s rockers like Cream, The Who, or even, dare I say, The Doors are missing a certain... I don't know... dare I say whimsy? Dare I say feminine influence? That I think someone like, dare I say, Jimi Hendrix really is able to capture. Not everyone needs to be flouncing flower children or anything, but it's just a little swirl of whimsy that needs to be whisked in there (yes, I know Jim Morrison is that swirl, but for some reason it doesn't always take). This theory is very much undercooked and I think it needs just a twinge more time in the oven, but whatever it is, Cream just has a characteristic flatness to it that I find in a lot of classic rock. THAT SAID: "Strange Brew" and "Sunshine of Your Love" were, unexpectedly, the second-place highlights of this one by a long shot. They're really solid, and I'd listen to them more were they not so overplayed. I found the rest of the album to be fun but sort of forgettable, with the vast exception of the last song. Now THAT'S what I'm talking about! THAT'S the kind of british I want! 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 I want to like Sonic Youth more than I do, I gotta say. Kim Gordon is the coolest and I love a lot of, admittedly, the more popular Sonic Youth songs, but this was just a little too squirrelly for me—not too squirrelly to enjoy, mind you, just too squirrelly for me to want to repeat listen, since I couldn't really hook onto any rhythms. If I'm gonna come back to this one, I really enjoyed "Hot Wire My Heart" and "Cotton Crown." 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 This one was fun to bop along to, but, fundamentally, it was never more than pop. I'm not sure why I expected more, which may have set back my enjoyment, but I really thought I'd enjoy New Order more than I did—where's the "Blue Monday" energy? Is their best stuff in an earlier album? Am I a poser? 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 DUKE ELLING TRON I had already heard this album in its entirety, unbeknownst to me, because Emily owns the CD. Much like with Johnny Cash, I think this is a killer live set that captures the energy of the room really well, which spikes my rating a hair higher than it would've been on its own. Though I think I'd have been inclined to say this sort of blended together if I'd just listened once, several of the little motifs and riffs were memorable and resurfaced as soon as I heard them. No matter how good this is, though, one thing even a great live performance couldn't save was the length. Short of actually being there and absorbed in the participation mystique, the two-hour runtime is a little overlong (though, shockingly, not too egregiously). Where I think this should've been "enough" to finish was when the second set started playing in the middle of the second disc and several songs repeated. I'll let a lot go, but not that. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded down :/ because it got old :/ sorry) Rod, you're killin' me baby bro. Much like Gasoline Alley, I feel like there was a lot to like here—I'm just biased from his Faces work, but this feels like it could be (and often is, in fairness) killer southern rock (from, you know, not the south). However, I think there's a worrisome imbalance in the twang to edge ratio. Plenty of twang on this one, and Rod's voice delivers it well, but by god, there is no edge, and in its dread vacuum an asphyxiating earnestness blooms. Maybe the fact that that's bad makes me an asshole and, worse, a hypocrite, because I think there's nothing wrong with earnestness, but something about it just feels borderline eye-roll-y. Ultimately, it doesn't kill the album for me, which is why it feels evil to give this two stars—it's a high two, mind you, but not high enough to round up into three territory, not today. I was too annoyed for that, sometimes. Oh well. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up because of uncut, shameless bias—there are some five star songs on here and I need to give them their due) TORTURE ME BACK AT YOUR LAIYURUH Okay. I love some Iron Maiden, but I had not heard this album—just the title track, "Running Free," and, of course, "Phantom of the Opera." While I know that historically, this was a feat because it gained a cult following in the midst of Punk supplanting metal, spawned all kinds of thrash bands, and created Eddie, I still thought it was an odd inclusion—if there were to be any maiden album on here, I'd expect it to be Number of the Beast (which I'm thankful to have found looking ahead). Okay, with that all aside, I thought this somewhat justified its inclusion. I was really rocking with "Prowler" and even the pensive melodrama of "Remember Tomorrow"—very proggy—but I definitely think Side A is far stronger. Wasn't really sure "Charlotte the Harlot" needed to be there in particular. Also, I know it's unfair to compare Paul Di'anno with Bruce Dickinson, and I think he's the perfect singer for the "Iron Maiden" song, but he reeeaally loves ending words "-ayuh" and the first few times it's like "fuck yea" but then you realize how much it's happening and it sort of brings all of his charisma down. Whatever. Could've been a four for me with just the first side and "Iron Maiden" itself, many of which are five star songs for me, but the second half holds me back. Also, much as I love "Phantom of the Opera".... it doesn't quite hold its own weight. We're not ready for "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" yet. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down because of the monotony of hearing all of these in order, though they're all at least functional songs separately) I love "Anarchy in the UK" and "EMI" but I wasn't expecting much from this record—nothing against the Sex Pistols, per se, but I just had a feeling their songs would all sort of sound the same. I knew vaguely that the band had sort of tragically and comically imploded because they were all so deeply punk to the core, and in that sense, I respect their contradictory and ubiquitous disgust for the universe, but I just wasn't sure it would translate into a great album through and through. Largely, I ended up being right, but I did walk away still endeared to how, as Emily and I agreed, almost noxiously teenage it all was. Their spirit is punk in its purest form, and god love 'em for that. Also, Johnny Rotten's got his scratching r-rolling schtick, but I love it. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down because of the general effect... elaborating below) I have expected big things, of some sort, from The Next Day since 2013—even before I really knew what Bowie was all about. I remember the day "Where Are We Now?" released, vaguely—we watched the eerie music video of Bowie-doll's wistful singing over the dusty clutter of memories past on the family ipad at the dining room table, maybe before school or maybe after getting home. Then, I'd only really heard Bowie intermittently throughout my childhood—I liked "Quicksand" and, much later, "Changes," but I guess I didn't think he was all that much of a weirdo because those songs sounded so normal to me. At twelve, this perception was unchanged by "Where are we Now" and "Valentine's Day," the only other single I remember from that album. I love both of these, but the first, paired with the eerie album cover, really set me up to assume this album was a somber, reflective piece on rock star days past. When I was trying to give Emily context after 1001albumsgenerator.com decided to throw us David Bowie's second-to-last album as his second record, I hastily explained that The Next Day is looking backward while Blackstar is looking forward, and I don't think that's entirely true. Blackstar has plenty of remorse and affirmation for Bowie's past, but I think in mythologizing his journey as a collective and turning this whole towards certain death does sort of create something new, in a way. Even without having heard the whole album, I had some inkling that "The Next" Day was the step prior to this in that it looks back, but doesn't use this as a foundation for or a leg up towards something new. Having listened, I'm disappointed to say that's pretty much exactly the case here, but without the sense, really, that it's an old man looking back on his younger work. Instead—and I hate to say this about my GOAT Bowie—but it really felt dated, to me. The Next Day didn't sound like someone who reinvents himself with changing music; it actually sounded like many of his contemporaries who stay the same through the decades until they like hollow copies of their old self. Okay, that's harsh, and not entirely true. To me, this felt borderline phoned-in, but I can't deny that I was still dancing along to most of these songs. Every track had something interesting going on that, if brought to the forefront with more bold production, could've made for a really interesting song. However, everything felt a little too clean, which is why it feels like so many artists of this era that don't let their music grow with them—sounds that were once revolutionary, sounds that actively pushed outward production technology, don't keep pushing, and sound all too comfortable in decades-later settings. "Where Are We Now" and "Valentine's Day" are far and away the best songs on this album, easily five stars on their own, because of their unique perspective and emotionality—wistfulness and edge, respectively. There are several other tracks I'd like to return to, undeniably, but I'm worried I wouldn't feel that urge strongly enough to see it through if this weren't Bowie. This all sounds like less than a three, but it's Bowie, so I'm attached. Oh well. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up because of Synchronicity I & II, solely enough to carry the album) Sometimes this list makes me feel like an alien. General consensus lists this firmly as an ass album—“the police make music for people who don’t like music,” at worst, and at best, some forgettable, self-absorbed noodling saved only by the second side, which one reviewer compares to a Beatles album in that every song has its own character. Both the first and last sentiments are criticisms and compliments that I’ve lobbed at other albums myself, so it’s not like I think they’re unreasonable—far be it from me, also, to say Sting isn’t a self-absorbed noodler (I do not feel called to white knight him today. Not now, my gorgeous fedora and katana. Stay sharp in brim and blade to fight another day). Even so, I’m genuinely baffled how I landed so opposed to consensus (which, ironically, also results in a middling rating from me). The Police makes music for people who don’t like music?? Someone should’ve let me know. Synchronicit(ies) is/are forgettable? Did we listen to the same songs? “I” is hypnotic, borderline sublime, and channels the subject matter with such sweeping, rushing emotion that it couldn’t have been constructed intellectually—this was something the Police felt first, were entranced by, and they’re transferring it to me, spiritus mundi. Its a crystalline, mountaintop waterfall, accelerating with every subsequent listen. I feel it stronger now that I’ve started reading Jung like Sting clearly did, but I’ve felt this song for much longer than I’ve known what a “synchronicity” is. “II” is goosebumps-inducing—it would be a wry portrait on its own, maybe forgettable even if relatable, were it not for the synchronicity aspect—the “many miles away” verses are, and I’m not kidding, some of my favorite lyrics ever. It’s not that they’re word-by-word genius, but they capture something so evocative with such simplicity, and that’s masterful to me. It’s a shame, then, that songs like “Walking in Your Footsteps” don’t capture the same mystical quality, or even, I don’t know, some more intentional humor—maybe I’m biased because I love the concept, but I see the vision, and as a kid listening to this in the back of the car on the way to school, I wanted it to be better. Even then, I got some secondhand embarrassment from rhyming “you were God’s favorite creature” with “but you didn’t have a feature” (what does that even mean??) only to find out it’s “but you didn’t have a future,” which is bad in a completely different way (not to mention, glaringly, that dinosaurs were already extinct fifty million years ago. Who wrote this, Rodrick Heffley?). Even so, I think it has far more character than anything on the second side besides, I’ll admit, that one voyeur song on the second side. I’m not sure where anyone got “Beatles” from—it’s truly such blank, sanitized pop to me, at least musically, and nothing jumps out to me. How did these end up chart toppers, but neither Synchronicity did?? How does anyone hear the music in “Tea in the Sahara” or “King of Pain” and think it’s more fun than “Mother,” which—because I guess I’m destined to hear Pere Ubu in everything now—is barely more abrasive than any other punk, but that people act like is audio ripped from a snuff film? “Miss Gradenko” may not be some remarkable display of sublimity, but I’d much rather hang out with her than any of her second story neighbors. What are we doing? What’s going on? It really does make me so sad, sometimes, that something I feel so deeply—to the point where I sound pretentious talking about it (imagine that)—is just garbage to some people. I really want to make it objective somehow, like it’s one of us or the other that’s the problem, just to validate my feelings, or justify having a strong defensive reaction, but what else is there to say? Giancarlo Esposito “We are not the same” dot jpeg 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up because I have a feeling my feelings will also round up) I didn’t realize how excited I’d be to see Pink Flag on this list. “Ex-Lion Tamer,” “1 2 X U,” and, like, twice as much “Three Girl Rhumba” are perhaps perfect punk songs, all five stars for me. When I think of why, I think it’s the ability to strain punk’s screamy bitterness through uptight sensibilities, but I’m not sure that totally captures it. Secretly, maybe, I have a love-hate relationship with uptightness in art—I think I’m always onboard for it, but then I listen to an album like Pink Flag all the way through, and I think the choppiness starts to feel like an auditory washboard after twenty-one 1-3 minute songs ricocheting around. I don’t know, I think maybe when the uptightness elevates the emotions, like in the three aforementioned songs, that’s the secret sauce—otherwise, a lot of these start to sound a bit samey to me, though not nearly as badly as many other albums on this list. That’s not to say there isn’t an emotional energy to this—contrary to many reviews (another case where people have no taste in vocals), this guy’s always had one of my favorite crunchy voices, almost crunchier than the guitars. That’s also not to say I didn’t find any more I was into—“Strange,” “106 Beats,” “Pink Flag,” and “Lowdown” really did pique my interest, though none hit like the other three, and that’s relatively few out of twenty-one little ditties. Somehow, then, this one’s getting the same score as Sex Pistols, even though I think ultimately think this one is better… maybe? Better creatively, at least, and even energetically, but I don’t know, the spirit of bollocks rages stronger in the Sex Pistols, and that’s what Wire sometimes seems to struggle with. Maybe Never Mind the Bollocks was more fun to listen to, but Pink Flag’s best songs easily exceed “Anarchy in the UK” or “EMI.” 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Fuck it, four stars—almost five, Duran Duran, you cheeky creatures. Rio is of my blood, but it took me years to accept that. My mom has always been a Duran Duran superman, so almost every song has an element of secondhand nostalgia for me, though they didn’t my whole life. I used to wrinkle my nose at songs like “Hungry Like the Wolf” and “Rio” as a refined eight- or nine-year-old connoisseur because I’d somehow already absorbed, osmotically, a discernment for commercial pop. This distaste probably had nothing to do with the DVD music videos my mom used to sit down and watch with my sister, which made me feel—especially during the panting bridge of “Hungry Like the Wolf”—like, umm, maybe I wasn’t old enough to be watching. Of course, I never hated these songs (if only for their familiarity), but I think it took spooky Duran Duran (representing even here—I see you, “The Chauffeur”) to ease me into cheesy Duran Duran. Of course, now that I’ve been brought into the light, I’ve realized this album is kind of on fire—approaching masterclass-tier, though the second side is somewhat weaker (don’t look at them, “The Chauffeur,” look at me. I would never talk about you like that. You’re not like them, you’re different). These all, to me, sound like manufactured chart-toppers, and in that sense they’re dated, but they are still crafted so intricately and performed so energetically that they’re really hard to deny—plus, there’s still glimmers of that early Duran Duran weird in there. I’ll always prefer the weirdness of songs from Seven and the Ragged Tiger or Duran Duran (the album), but if this one is as good as it is, I can’t wait to hear what those others have to offer. Even so, it’s clear why this one ended up on the list, with just how many classics it contains. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Man, I hate not getting an album from one of my favorite bands. Such odd choices to fit on this list—I can understand "Blue Lines" from a historical perspective, but really? "Protection" when "Mezzanine" is right there? And how did "Blue Lines" not only make it into this top 1000ish, but into Apple Music's Top 100? Listening today, I liked it more than the first time I heard it, but I just couldn't see what was so special about it. The atmosphere is so sparse compared to Massive Attack's later, layered work, and while the lyrics were clever and fun and all that, it just didn't feel like a cut above anything else they'd done. Maybe I need a listen #3? 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down for sparseness, but had the potential to be rounded up for quality) Unlike much of my musical bigotry, I didn’t inherit my parents’ Simon & Garfunkel skepticism—it came to me entirely separately, although thankfully in a much milder strain. I would always wonder why my mom rolled her eyes at Paul Simon (although, probably, the solo namedrop probably explains exactly why) when I heard songs like “The Sounds of Silence” or “A Hazy Shade of Winter,” but after listening to both of those songs separately a good amount, I came to realize they had burnt out fast. Simon & Garfunkel songs, for me, wear thin quite quickly, but I can’t even justify why, and that’s the worst part! Bigotry needs receipts! Is it that they’re insincere? Too sincere? They don’t read as either to me. Their instrumentation is a little dated sometimes, but I don’t hold that against people usually. They become irritating in a similar way Harry Nilsson becomes irritating, feeling-wise, but they don’t really have his cheese. More study is needed. As for Bookends, I gave this one a shot because I already knew “A Hazy Shade of Winter” and “America” (and, I guess, Mrs. Robinson, which I think I already found to be overplayed before I could even really give it a chance), but I ended up feeling pretty similarly about it. I was blursed with seeing the reviews beforehand and learning that a) Bookends is a concept album and b) Bookends is really bad at being a concept album. I don’t know if I’d evaluate it that harshly, but it definitely feels phoned in in that department, especially since a bunch of random singles are on the second side. I almost feel like it could’ve worked better if they were interspersed throughout and the topic was something touched upon intermittently. Of course, “America” makes me misty, as did “Old Friends,” though musically, I’m not sure it’s something I’d come back to on its own. Also, fuck everyone who said fuck “Voices of Old People.” Would you be happy if the spectrum of human expression was hydraulic pressed into a 2x2 cube of four-chord, three-minute ditty that got stolen and performed more arrogantly by Oasis? Fucking guy. Anyways, yea, lyrically great, but musically a little sparse for me, which is emphasized by the overall disorganization of the album. Even so, I ended up saving “Save the Life of My Child,” “Fakin’ it,” and “At the Zoo,” which constitutes about half the album, and my rule typically is that if I save half the album, I might as well save the whole album. Maybe a reevaluation is incoming. Finally, but such an outstanding misstep that it’s my most important takeaway: most of the animals in “At the Zoo” are grossly mischaracterized, but not ALL of the animals, so it’s not like it’s supposed to be subversive, so what the fuck was the point? Like, Zebras really are reactionaries, but “Monkeys Stand for Honesty?” “The elephants are kindly / but they’re dumb?” Have either of these idiots even been to the zoo? 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded up because hey, I was vibing) I had no knowledge whatsoever of The Shamen (Shamen like shaman? Shamen like shame-men?) and went in with absolutely no expectations other than, as many reviews said, “gay bar” music. Well, I don’t think it was gay enough. Was sort of vibing with “Move any Mountain” until the halfassed rap started, which was the case for many of these. I think this had many endearing qualities, i.e. being deeply indebted to Depeche Mode, earnestly corny new millennium ahh lyrics, and dare I say a touch of 60s Brian Wilson-ness in the harmonies on “Omega Amigo,” which I might even revisit alongside “Evil is Even,” “Lightspan” and “Make it Mine.” That sounds like a lot of these songs were likable for a 2.5, but I dunno man, it just got to be violently repetitive after a while—not something I was down with for an hour. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded up because I have conflictingly defensive feelings towards it) I know precisely one thing about Elbow, and it’s that I LOVE “Forget Myself.” The percussion’s really clacky and high, the hook is really solid rock but also opens up into this expansive vista of sound at the end, and man, I really do love this guy’s voice—his accent and rasp really complement each other, especially when he harmonizes with himself and the rasp goes lower. And those lyrics—I can’t even describe how snappy and sharp they are, competently alliterative but also, like, cuttingly sarcastic at times, so just look at this: “They're pacing Piccadilly in packs again / And moaning for the mercy of a never come rain / The sun's had enough and the simmering sky / Has the heave and the hue of a woman on fire / Shop shutters rattle down and I'm cutting the crowd / All scented and descending from the satellite towns / The neon is graffiti singing make a new start / So I look for a plot where I can bury my broken heart […] The man on the door has a head like Mars / Like a baby born to the doors of the bars / And surrounded by steam with his folded arms / He's got that urban genie thing going on / He's so mercifully free of the pressures of grace / Saint Peter in satin he's like Buddha with mace” And that’s excluding the “are you falling in love every second song” stanza, too! Like… fuck, man, that’s fantastic. “Forget Myself” is just such a perfect rock song, and it gave me the impression that Elbow was sort of your cut-above but unpretentious rock band—not aiming to break any ground, but really solid at what they do, and fun to see. I like a lot of these types of bands even though I wouldn’t land them on this list—that’s not to say that their music isn’t really tight or even life-changing, but they aren’t historically revolutionary, which seems to be the (not always achieved) goal of 1001 albums. In a way, almost respect this type of band more for just doing their thing—like, it almost feels like they’ve unlocked the unfettered and directionless creativity of being a child, and they’re making what they want to make, what they’re good at making, and that’s so great. But, um, bad news: Elbow is not that band, not at least on The Seldom Seen Kid. This, to me, seems like it’s trying to be a sweeping, artistic annunciation that quakes the foundations of music—trying, anyway—and though I don’t hate it, I felt myself struggling to like it, too. Of course, lyrically, the guy’s got chops, which are apparent from the first song: “I sat you down and told you how / The truest love that's ever found / Is for oneself / You pulled apart my theory / With a weary and disinterested sigh / So yes I guess I'm asking you / To back a horse that's good for glue / And nothing else.” That felt kind of clever in a way I enjoyed. “I’ve been working on a cocktail called “Grounds for Divorce”—that’s a good one! Same with the very concept of “The Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver”—that’s the kind of pretentious that still tickles me. Like, alright, you’re trying out literary insight for size, I see you. I can’t even say it feels insincere, which is what bugs me the most about all this—it’s definitely a romantic and pensive record, but in a way I wasn’t super into. A few of the “epic” moments, i.e. the end of “Crane Driver,” did give me, like, the memory of goosebumps, but not much really landed with me. This kind of stuff drives me crazy, because by all measures, I should like it, and I recognize that it’s talented, so I feel bad when I don’t have a favorable reaction. What’s going on? Am I the problem? For as much as I was just glazing the lyrics, the music itself is typically where I connect the most, so you’d think examining that might reveal some answers, but this just makes it more confusing. From the first song, I thought the Apple Music review comparing Elbow to Coldplay crossed with Pink Floyd was way more apt than the numerous Radiohead jabs in the global reviews—like, I just assumed it was one of those things where people have only heard a little bit of OK Computer and just take generalized swings from there—but uh, once I got to “The Bones of You” I realized the wisdom of the masses was spot on this time. Yea, never mind, that’s Radiohead alright, and I don’t… hate it? In fact, there’s a lot here that I even think I like—they’re doing a decent impression in “The Bones of You,” and “Mirrorball” has a really interesting… I don’t know… I want to say syncopation even though I don’t even remotely know what that means. Much as I wanted to save both, though, I felt like neither did enough for me by the end. Of course, these are by far the most Radiohead tracks on the album, which otherwise seems like a tour of well-tread, late-2000s millennial genres. Like, “Grounds for Divorce”—not the stomp clap!! The second it started, I audibly bruh’d, which is not something I make a habit of doing. And to think someone called this song a “shredder” in their review—huh?? They must’ve been raised on the Disney channel, because this is a deeply tame and corporate rock rhythm. Guiltily, I’ll always have a little bit of an inclination to nod my head to this kind of music—admittedly, the swagger is sort of absorbent, and I do really like the thickness of the bass on this one, but it wears thin quickly—within the span of that AJR-ass song, in fact. Similarly, there’s sort of a halfassed cabaret feeling to “The Fix” that feels namelessly associated with this era of pop (maybe “Viva la Vida?” But I never remember which bad song that is, the name floats over three half-remembered tunes from middle school). It’s very sneaky, with some creepy “aah-aah-aahs”, but also not the most authentic. Perhaps the most transparent offender, though, is the almost-closer “One Day Like This,” which is trying to do a “Hey Jude” fade out that’s lab grown for an arena, and again, I’ll admit, it…. sooort of works? I wouldn’t say I was swept away by it—more softly splashed—but I can tell there’s emotion here, and I can see why someone would feel a catharsis after hearing this, which is why I feel bad for not getting it. This, I think, is always my problem: if I can logically see every reason to like something, and those reasons align with my own values, I have a really hard time justifying why something’s not for me—doesn’t that imply, then, that my taste is fickle and changeable and not an objective monolith of taste? I keep coming back to this, but never finding a way to reconcile with it. So, again, here we are: an averaged three stars because there are just as many parts of this that could deduct not-quite-a-star as there are parts that could add not-quite-a-star. I’d like to think this is one I won’t revisit so it’s a clean separation, but I was too interested in bits of “Some Riot,” “The Fix,” “Mirrorball,” and “The Bones of You” to just move on entirely. Then again, though, revisiting them right now is gonna feel like homework, and I’m sure to just delete them from my library anyway. What’s got me hung up is that I get the sense that I’d give it another few chances if I liked Elbow more. If they had, like, two other solid albums before this, I can imagine listening to it a couple times to see if I “got” it. I’m not sure I would if it were a Radiohead album, but even then, maybe. Humblingly, a very subjective album. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕 What can I say concisely about Yankee Hotel Foxtrot? If I wrote the album review I’ve always wanted to hear, it’d be twice as long as any on this website and half as tolerable—maybe just about as biased, maybe more, but at least I’ll admit that. With many of my personal 5 star albums that happen to be on this list, I feel a little guilty giving them a perfect score because I’ve had the benefit of listening to them many times and warming up to their true potential. That might be true of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot for me more than any other album, yet I don’t think I’d have given it lower than a 4.5 on my first listen. When people ask “what’s your favorite album?” I’m always iffy about picking a favorite, but I realized today that deliberation is probably over second place—this one is undoubtedly first. I’m obsessed with justifying my reviews, but for me, there’s no doing that with this one. I grew up with Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—recording for it began around when I was born (def intentional on Tweedy’s part), my dad has been listening to it all my life. I remember him playing a live recording from a Jeff Tweedy solo show of “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” while dropping me off at kindergarten. I don’t know why I was glum that day—you know, between all the things to be depressed about when you’re six and have everything taken care of for you—but I remember going into the classroom and finding a hidden spot between two perpendicular shelves that you could only get to by crawling under a computer desk and singing “I am an American aquarium drinker / I assassin down the avenue” to myself all sadly. I had no idea what that meant then. I actually still don’t really now, but what can I say? I’ve always felt it. So many lyrics on YHF have been formative for me—even though it’s taken me almost my whole life to warm up fully to “War on War” (I used to think it was a super normie song with normie sounds as a kid—imagine that), but I remember my Dad explaining the concept of “you have to learn how to die / if you wanna, wanna be alive” to me while driving into our neighborhood and it really settling in as something profound to my eight-year-old self. Most of the lyrics, though, are things I haven’t bothered to really listen to until my twenties—feeling them passively was plenty enough. This album fucking unzips me, man, even when I don’t know why. I can’t tell you how many times I cried to “Ashes of American Flags” before I processed that he says “All my lies are always wishes / I know I would die if I could come back new”—and still, that’s the exact thing I was feeling as a teenager then and still do now. So many things gut me here, dude—“I shake like a toothache / when I hear myself sing” on the same song just a few lines later, and the cutting juxtaposition (and relatability) of “Cheer up, honey I hope you can / there is something wrong with me / my mind is filled with silvery stars” in “Radio Cure.” I remember my Dad, in high school, trying to tell me “Jesus, etc.” was a happy song when I said the line “You were right about the stars / each one is a setting sun” killed me, because, I guess, it reverts to the uplifting “our love is all we have / our love is all of God’s money / everyone is a burning sun.” I don’t know, though, man—the strings are still trembly, and it’s the really touching type of comfort that can only come from trying to nullify a real, deep sadness. That’s not to say there isn’t happiness, exuberance even, here. “Heavy Metal Drummer” and “I’m the Man Who Loves You” are both pump-your-fists incredible, especially the latter live with Nels Cline shredding at the end—maybe it’s hard to tell from the recording, but it’s like clinically epidermis-melting. “Kamera” and “Pot Kettle Black” are both pretty chill songs that I’ve come to appreciate with time—even though “Kamera”’s still, to me, one of the weakest songs on here (though by no means “weak” on any other album), “Pot Kettle” has become a favorite of mine—I remember skiing with my Dad at sixteen or so, having just listened to the full album for the first time, and feeling very free with the song stuck in my head. Deceptively sweeping. More than anything, though, what slams me and washes over me like a wall is the obliterating soundscape of this album. I hate to give Jay Bennett credit, but god damn, this would’ve never sounded the same without him. I know it’s not for everybody (and I can even sort of understand why), but Wilco does cacophony like nobody else doing it—just total, rhythmic annihilation that miraculously snaps back into place. Songs like “I am Trying to Break Your Heart” or “Poor Places” are the definition of organized chaos, and something about the immensity of those soundscapes—the depth and detail of those emotions—makes me feel alive like nothing else does, gives me an instant and overwhelming reverence for the depth of human expression. This album could probably make me join a cult. Okay, maybe not quite that, but it certainly reminds me of spirituality when something like “Poor Places” blasts over me. One of my more embarrassing little secrets from Middle School, actually, is that I put “Poor Places” on a school dance request list. Gotta start those indie heads early, right? No, but actually, I imagined that the gradual, climactic pace of this song would be a perfect slow dance song (huh??) to ask my crush to dance to. Actually, I think the freakout at the end on loudspeakers might’ve sent everyone home crying, and not in the same way I end up crying at the end of “Poor Places”—more like, “MAKE IT STOP! THE SKY IS FALLING!” I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, but also, I really do—there’s nothing quite like the cathartic intensity of that song, which I think spans such a truly mythic scope. That’s not a word I use lightly, either—if I heard the godhead tomorrow, I think it’d sound like “Poor Places” But that’s enough hyperbole from me. It kind of hurts to know I won’t be able to express how special this music is to me without sounding mega pretentious, or else, maybe worse, overhyping anyone’s expectations for this album. I don’t know Jeff Tweedy, but I’ve seen his onstage snark enough times to know he’d probably respond to this like, “uh, woah dude.” But, you know. Insightfuller. Objectively, I can still say it’s a near-perfect album—masterfully produced, spanning a full spectrum of emotions, lyrically sharp and really well paced. I can see why this might be a three for some people, even if I think that’s really lower than is fair—four is the fairest I’ll go, even if it’s not transcendent to you. Maybe feeling soul-seen, even as a kindergartener, by Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, means I was destined to be a pretentious fuckwit, or maybe just, as the top review for this album says, “boring” (the cardinal sin of music! Holy fuck, why didn’t anybody in Wilco check to see if this prestigious reviewer was bored?!). Maybe there is, as I (honest-to-god, drama-aside) have often felt, “something wrong with me.” Many times, I’m really concerned with reconciling my opinion with consensus reality, but for something so close to my soul, all I can say is I can’t help who I am. “Everyone is a burning sun.” Okay, off to submit my review. Hope I don’t get Pantera tomorrow. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded down not because it deserves a two, but because it doesn’t deserve a three... to me) Um. Okay, so. I’ll admit, I’m prone to defending albums people shit on, because everyone’s so stick-in-ass puritanical about even slightly weird music on here for some reason. Also, I think I’ve always liked what Frank Zappa stands for, or what I thought he stood for from a distance, and I’ve wanted to get into his stuff for a while now. The way people talk about him, you’d think he’s some kind of last bastion of artistic expression, sardonic defender of the weirdo, but I really think he’s got just as much of a brand of his own. This was, like… fine, but nowhere near as funny as the titles advertised. These, easily, are the funniest part of the album, and their numbers are not strong: “What’s the ugliest part of your body” was the only one that got a mild chuckle out of me (again, just the title), and while “Who Needs the Peace Corps?” isn’t exactly breaking contrarian ground, it promised a strong start that I didn’t feel delivered (this seems to be the case for other recommended albums by Apple Music—Weasels Ripped my Flesh and Uncle Meat are both top-tier titles given little credit, likely, by their contents). I’ve heard a few Zappa songs before—“Dancing Fool” is the only one I remember—but they seem to follow a formula where he says “I’m a _________ and I __________ around, totally oblivious to my idiocy” and that’s the epic takedown. It just seems vaguely nasty and cynical, but I think I’d be able to hang with that if it wasn’t also so played out. Like most comedy music, I think structure and rhyme scheme are the enemy of clever subversion here—instead, there are sort of predictable, eye-roll rhymes that signpost incoming jokes from a mile away instead of maximizing that space to make, you know, more jokes. It’s like when someone has to sneeze and they have this really long wind-up and then they don’t even really sneeze at the end. I don’t know, this isn’t my issue with the Mothers of Invention so much as it is the genre at large, which, to their credit, they seem to have created. I also think there’s not exactly a vacuum of creativity here, although it’s not what I’d call groundbreaking, either (maybe I just need some perspective?). Certainly, I liked a lot of the squirrelly noise they included intermittently—I enjoyed the whispers and monotone deliveries of certain jokes more than I did most of the sung ones—but it never really coalesced into anything interesting, so it was mostly just disorienting. Maybe that was the point, but to be honest, there’s very little ambiguity about the artistic intentions of this album, and when it has points to make, there’s no “maybe” about it. I’m not saying this was unpleasant or anything, nor was it really bad—not sure why everyone’s acting so offended and upset by it since nothing really flagrant was said. Maybe I should be more upset by mediocrity, but it wasn’t bland in a commercial way, just kind of tepid execution. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌑🌑🌑 Emily has been disapproving of me skipping around here and there when I feel like my life is too precious to spend listening to certain albums since this skews our statistics, so when I saw (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? was today’s album, I decided it was about time I logged my first one star. It seems I am the fool today, because amidst the noxious audacity radiating off of the Gallaghers, I’d forgotten Oasis isn’t exactly ass. They’re just… fine. All of their baseless proclamations of being the next Beatles must really ruffle my feathers, but most of their tactlessness exists outside of the music itself—even their constant theft that everyone seems to just brush off doesn’t negate that they’re good performers. Certainly, Morning Glory? isn’t free of this kind of copycat behavior; no one’s getting fooled into thinking Gallagher minds are behind “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” but after some research, it seems like this is just the most obvious of many Beatles, um, homages. Compared to “Cigarettes and Alcohol,” these occasional sprinkled chords are harmless, and I’d even treat them like easter eggs (seemingly Oasis’s intention) were the Gallaghers not constantly waxing lyrical about their creative genius. Everyone’s a thief, and even they seemingly admit this, but it doesn’t seem to have instilled any humility in them. Are they aware they’re stealing and overcompensating? Are they even that self-aware? To their credit, they seem to have managed some iconic melodies of their own, which succeed with me to varying degrees. I have to say, I feel like Oasis pop-rock annoys me less when it’s not trying to be “raw” and “edgy” like everyone says they are. “Hello” was far more eye-rolling than “Roll With It” or “She’s Electric” because those are unapologetic, unpretentious ‘60s throwbacks, still doing someone else’s thing but somehow less performatively. Most of these songs are neither, though, instead being primarily inoffensive clap-along rock arena ballads, many of which I don’t really mind. While “Champagne Supernova” was an insufferable, seven-minute fuck-you to cap off fifty inane minutes, I’ll admit to nodding my head along to “Some Might Say,” even if the lyrics were mega ass. I also enjoyed the riff on “Morning Glory,” which is nothing new but it’s well utilized here, especially when it kind of shatters in the noisy section—fun detail. The infamous “Wonderwall” doesn’t annoy me nearly as much as I remembered it did, but I think I wouldn’t be able to stand it if I were subjected to nineties levels of airplay, or just one of those fabled parties where a guy whips out his acoustic guitar and says “Here’s….” It does make me wonder if my favorite songs would survive being popular. On one hand, I think I can tell if a song’s emotion can persist when I overplay it, but that’s not the same as being an inescapable cultural phenomenon and hollowed out by shallow trendiness. Then again, I’m not really sure “Wonderwall” has much to hollow out in the first place, you know? It’s can see it being one of those songs you bop your head along to, but not a craze that swept nations. Honestly, I’m really just struggling in general with how high the rating for this album is on the global reviews, but it does make me feel so much better about the crowd I’m always disagreeing with. I guess it’s just one of those values things—to think I almost felt ashamed for loving Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Bone Machine, Blackstar, or anything Björk, when those are clearly creative and visionary proclamations of authenticity (and that’s what makes them, like, really fun). Those traits are also what I value in the other highest rated albums on this site—looking at you, Abbey Road—making these visionary peers far closer to “being the next Beatles” than anything Oasis claims. Yet as much as other people like “Abbey Road” to the same degree I do, I think we still aren’t seeing eye to eye. After this, it’s clear I’m not in it for the same things as a lot of people are, which is a little disheartening, but that’s fine. I know how that sounds, but I think I’m okay with that now, actually. Something something “Your boos mean nothing, I’ve seen what makes you cheer.” Except that’s a Rick and Morty quote, so I really just invalidated my whole argument here, didn’t I? 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 (rounded up because, I mean…. come on) This is crazy talk for a dude with a Bowie tattoo, but I’ve always been a bit resistant to Ziggy Stardust et al., and I can’t exactly describe why. It’s not like this album isn’t loaded with stone cold classics—“Five Years,” “Moonage Daydream,” “Starman,” “Lady Stardust,” “Ziggy Stardust,” “Suffragette City,” “Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide”… what an onslaught, an unstoppable roster. Since I hadn’t listened to the album in full since high school, my now-matured (but still relatively atrophied, mind you) frontal lobe could appreciate that even the weaker entries are standalone bangers—“Soul Love” and “It Ain’t Easy” really earned my respect this go-around. I think, more than likely, my dismissal of Ziggy Stardust comes down to reopening the wounds associated with it. As I’ve mentioned in many Bowie reviews before, though I’d been hearing him my whole life, I never really listened until after Blackstar and his passing. Ziggy Stardust was on constant replay at the end of the school year that 2016, channeling a lot of the angst of my first breakup into bigger, angstier, existential things. Perhaps my most vivid memory of Ziggy Stardust comes from later down the line, when “Lady Stardust” came on my shuffle while I was driving to volunteering after having just put my childhood dog down—what an ethereal juxtaposition of feelings. Even without all that baggage, songs like “Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide” and “Five Years” easily bring me to my knees. I don’t know how anyone can be unmoved by Bowie’s raw wailing at the end of “Five Years”—lately, it feels like an American anthem, but it’s always felt like an outpouring from a place where that apocalypse was actually happening. Clearly, he’s channeling the depth of the dream that inspired it. Sure, all that hippy-dippy bullshit aside, “Suffragette City” and “Moonage Daydream” really, really rock, and in completely different ways, to boot. Yet where would this album be without its tenderness—its luscious, trembling, reverent strings that somehow do little to impact the grunge of this album? I had to scroll to find a one-star review of the album, but it essentially says Sgt. Pepper ruined a decade of albums thereafter because of the maximalist overproduction that muddies songs like these, but I couldn’t disagree more. Ziggy Stardust thrives on this contrast, which in somehow compacts into a cohesive, unmistakable signature: seedy, angsty, bombastic, and vulnerable all at once, and did I mention summer sodium-vapor aglow? Muggy and hot like a city summer night. “Hang Onto Yourself,” to me, might be the only weak link, but “Ziggy Stardust” does an effortless recovery. This album is unstoppable. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌑🌑🌑 Emily’s Dad has gone on record as saying there was no good music in the nineties, which I find funny because he has also gone on record as saying a Smashing Pumpkins album is one of his favorites of all time. I’ve always been a nineties defender, seeing as a non-negligible percentage of my music taste came about around then, but after having listened to all of this Stone Roses, R.E.M., Oasis, Verve, Elbow, and Coldplay on this list, I’m beginning to understand what he meant, especially when it comes to the consequences of mainstream nineties on the next decade of music. It’s a sound that I think, based on its constituents, should be a unilaterally good thing—certainly the harsh rasp of Grunge but also lots of jammy, psychedelic-revival soundscapes—yet the end result is really bland and background-blending (wild, considering how neither of these ancestors were ever regarded as particularly palatable). I’ve seen a lot of comparisons—both here and with the later Coldplay and Elbow—to Radiohead, and even though both of the latter were probably influenced by the former, they couldn’t be coming from more disparate places. Radiohead uses both its sharp edges and its psychedelic experimentation to constantly push the boundaries that their last project settled, constantly blossoming into both familiar and uncharted emotion. With British rock descendants Elbow and Coldplay, I get the sense that though they’re doing similar percussion or whatever, the resemblance to me is skin-deep—somehow they’re taking innovation and puttering in circles with it. Okay, sorry, none of this so far has been explicitly about A Northern Soul, but I’ve been describing my experience with it this whole time. I always feel like people are overly mean to one-hit wonders—like, go ahead, YOU write “Bittersweet Symphony,” or anything half as iconic—so I was really ready to find something else interesting from Verve. I was into the opener “A New Decade,” but found myself almost instantly bored after that, which I really hate to say—I’m prone to defending the lambasted albums on this list that everyone is really nasty about in the global reviews, but much as their sentiments could’ve been expressed more nicely, they were kind of dead on this go around. With the exception of a psychedelic spike near the middle that perked my ears up until I noticed it was, indeed, labeled “Brainstorm Interlude” (everyone just loves to get interesting when it’s on a short, skippable instrumental), the album really did just sound the same all the way through, meaning most everything that stood out to me was a nitpick. Like, I have a linguistic question for Emily: is there a word for words people only use because they’re easy rhymes they hear in songs? Like, I feel like the occurrence of “obscene” is far lower in real life than it is in halfassed lyrics. And can we give “Ocean” and “Commotion” a rest, maybe? I want to say that’s about all I noticed, but I’ll admit there were a few interesting sounds here or there—I really enjoyed a lot of the atmosphere in “Stormy Clouds” even if the melody did nothing for me, and there were a couple of moments on “Life’s an Ocean” that made me go “hmm” or “okay”—but this wasn’t really enough to bump my rating any higher. Whereas What’s The Story, Morning Glory? got a two from an average of really irritating bits and just-better-than-okay bits, this gets a two more solidly because it truly is “Okay, No Desire to Revisit” incarnate. Nothing irritating for more than a moment, but also nothing interesting for just as long. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded down because no riff can erase slave rape fantasies, which should be the stipulation on a half-a-star review but unfortunately this album also has “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” and “Wild Horses,” so I guess it’s time for me to look like an ass) Is art’s “goodness” dependent on its morality? Uncomfortably, I’m not sure I think they necessarily correlate, although the thrall of aesthesis can only go so far before yucky subject matter icks out listeners. TL;DR: sometimes I feel guilty for liking problematic songs, but sometimes, a song is problematic enough on its own that the melody don’t really matter, do it? Case in point: I’ve been excited to listen to Sticky Fingers for a while now solely because “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” fucking rocks, and really that’s all. Today, I was so curious to start “Brown Sugar” because of how the reviews either tiptoed trepidatiously around it or relished in its triggering content, though nobody seemed to write it off completely. How could it be so bad but so good? Even the wikipedia page for the song seems quite coy about the subject matter, as the controversy only appears as an afterthought lower down the page, with the last sentence of its paragraph referencing taboos like “cunnilingus, interracial sex, and [beat] slavery.” HUH?? But again, I thought, surely this can’t be that bad—probably some classically immature Jagger licking his lips at tastelessly kinky Race play, likely in a metaphor that only sounded clever in the studio. Cut to the opening line: “Gold Coast slave ship bound for cotton fields—“ HUH???? So, okay, let’s talk about “Brown Sugar,” because it really is that bad, but the reviews want me to ask, “but is it really?” Well, I’m gonna have to answer with a question via my woketron 3000 covid vaccine implant, which is screaming “is this not a rape fantasy? Of a slave??” And like, the answer to that is obviously yes, but the internet seems in denial of that. In my ensuing research bender, I was fascinated to find rich discourse on the multiple metaphorical layers supposedly sitting atop what’s lyrically a soggy paper foundation. Genius Lyrics, of “Brown Sugar,” claims “There are several different ways to interpret this song. The most straightforward is a meditation on white male on black female sex and how power has influenced it. Alternatively it could be more generally about interracial sex or black sex. Finally, as meta-fiction: Mick Jagger plunders the musical history of black people from slave rhythms, to spirituals, to blues, to honky tonk. And further is willing to proudly crow about how tempting and good they are.” This is a scrumptious take for me because it comes not four sentences after a quote about how Mick Jagger wrote the lyrics on a notepad in forty-five seconds before recording. Look, I don’t want to underestimate anybody’s genius, but this is clearly a fucked-up raceplay song from the perspective of the slaver, right? Maybe my 45-second skim wasn’t quite on par with Jagger’s intelligence, but to me, this isn’t exactly dripping with textual evidence of commentary of any sort—something something “Satire requires clarity of intent” (By the way, this is a footnote-worthy digression, but some sources say the song was inspired by Jagger’s short-lived tryst with Claudia Lennear—the same person Bowie wrote “Lady Grinning Soul” about, which is truly night and day with this one—but there’s also another woman, Marsha Hunt, who claims it’s about her, and it’s like… do we really want to fight over this? Interestingly, it seems Lennear did write a song about Jagger, too, called “Not At All,” which she has said was "to inform Mick Jagger of his dispensability,” which feels like both a classier clapback and also somehow the objective winner). But yea, it’s not like “controversial lyrics” or “not for the thin-skinned,” it’s just a rapey slave fantasy—duh. While spiraling down a Stones reddit thread where everyone seemed in denial about this song, I found the situation pretty succinctly summarized:“This isn't exactly Tipper Gore reading into the vaguaries of hair rock lyricism, it's the words.” This isn’t even really veiled in tipsy innuendo, that’s just what he says. For anyone else that might be a career ender, but has anyone ever asked Mick Jagger to be an upstanding pillar of ethical sexuality? Isn’t his grotesque horniness exactly the grit that cakes this bluesy music? If that’s the case, does that make me disgusting for liking it, at least in the abstract? Part of me thinks the Stones would sound just as crunchy and greasy without him, and I’d even say his voice would still have that iconic gruffness if he was using different words. Then again, I’m doing a lot of defending for a riff we haven’t even really discussed yet—one that better be some kind of platinum galactic chakra enema if anyone’s willing to die by “Brown Sugar,” right? Well, um, after listening, it’s like… fine? Okay, not even trying to be hipster about it, it’s decent even, but brother, come on—that’s what all this fuss was about? I’d say the same for “Bitch,” by the way—it’s not really worth the effort of defending, to me. I mean, is there any level of shreddage that could eclipse blatant misogyny and racism? Umm… obviously, no, but I think I want a lawyer. Still, if there were such a riff, it wouldn’t be here—not sure why this is one of the big hitters. Oh, yea, and Sticky Fingers—was that any good? Well, setting aside that stunner of a first track, I was ready to regrettably give this one a four, or maybe more—“Sway,” “Wild Horses,” and “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” just about blasted my balls off. What a lineup. Unfortunately, the first side, in my mind, is much stronger than the second, which very quickly begins to meander into predictable and downtempo territory. I liked “Dead Flowers,” sort of, but I think that’s just because of The Big Lebowski, but that’s the only other standout to me. It’s not like everything else is bad (although I didn’t pay enough attention to the lyrics of the rest to really say that with confidence), but it’s just pretty fine Stones fair. I can’t wish for Mick Jagger to not be an evil ass freak, but I can wish for Keith Richards to go as hard as side one on every song, and unfortunately, he didn’t do much for me in that department. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Huh. This was, like, really good. Though I often make a habit of responding to global reviews in my own reviews, don’t think for a second I’m the type of person to use my review to compensate for anyone else’s—I’m too selfishly attached to my own opinions. Just as much as I’m not gonna lob a 1 at Sticky Fingers just because Mick Jagger’s a turboperv, I’m not gonna give this one a 5 just to stick it to this site’s lobotomized review committee. To be frank, I think there’s some weird vibes on both sides of today’s discussion (even if one side has their heart in the right place), and I think neither is really engaging with Djam Leelii the way it deserves. It’s pretty easy to write off the numbnut chuds saying this is here to fill a diversity quota when a) even removed from any “leftist agenda,” one would just statistically expect music from around the globe in a list compiling the most historically significant selection of albums, b) the point of engaging with such a list is to expand one’s horizons, and c) when the Beatles, Bowie, the Stones, Elvis Costello, Nick Cave, Radiohead, and many more have 6+ albums on the list, shouldn’t we all be begging for more diversity? Is this not the same crowd who thinks they’re in hell because they have to sit through like five Tom Waits albums? While well meaning, the white knighting this album is receiving in response is also a bit off-putting to me—there’s a bit of condescension to the glut of “I’ll never listen to this again, but isn’t it just swell?” reviews. I suppose it’s a more welcoming attitude to begin with than the hater brigade, but I’m detecting a certain “I would’ve voted for Obama a third time” scent here that sort of politely stymies real discussion of the music. Like, it seems you’re still a little weirded out by the foreignness if you’re talking with this distance, no? I’m not nonwhite enough to be policing this sort of thing, and I’m certainly not senegalese to interact with this from a decolonial perspective, but my thought was if Brian Eno loves it, I’m probably gonna love it too. Whatever I think, I’m gonna rate it how I want to rate it. I sort of had to ease my way into this one. Admittedly, even as a weird voice enjoyer, I didn’t love Baaba Maal’s at first, but his cracked, high strains kept bleeding emotion and it didn’t take long to win me over. I went through a similar trajectory with the guitar work, which at first felt like diaphanous background tracks (which I am seemingly more receptive too than most of this site’s most popular reviewers, though I have my limits), but the cyclical rhythms jumped beyond hypnotic into identifiable characters of their own. A lot of people describe this album as sort of an atmospherically flattening experience, but I actually found there to be a decent diversity of sounds here. Some I wasn’t as fond of definitely had an island feeling, and Emily was spot on when she said songs like “Ko Wone Mayo” could’ve been Eagles intros, to my immense dismay. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising, but there’s often a Bluesy furrow to these songs that maintains its sharpness despite their focus on subdued cyclicality (which I just know is what hooked Eno). Musically, I was able to pick up on a lot, but who knows what I’m missing lyrically—Emily was actually the MVP for a Djam Leelii listen because she caught when Maal switched from Senegalese to French in “Ko Wone Mayo.” Even if there’s stuff I’ll never understand without a Senegalese prerequisite, Djam Leelii seems easily worth another listen. At first, I was surprised to find myself downloading one song, then another; then, I felt confident this would be one of those 3.5s where there are chunks of good songs—“Muudo Hormo,” “Salminanam,” and “Maacina Toro” was one, and "Sehilam,” “Kettojee,” and “Ko Wone Mayo” was shaping up to be another—but the chunks kept expanding until they were no longer the outliers. I don’t know if I’ll end up keeping every track here, but I will most certainly be listening again, because there was some really good stuff in here. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Apologies to Emily bc I think I’m gonna hate this one, and the Phil Collins comparisons did little to comfort me. For once, I knew nothing about John Martyn going into this, though, like I said, some of his company seemed worrisomely cheesy to me. Thankfully, my takeaways, for the most part, range from neutral to favorable. Martyn’s got a super fun rasp, and his instrumentation is diverse and varied, even if it is a little dated. There’s some very of its time guitar that conjures Gabriel and Bush as well as Collins, but it’s balanced by the psychedelic atmosphere of this, which stays strong throughout. I always say diversity is our strength, but the diversity here is where I start to feel a little weakened. To Martyn’s credit, this album is nothing if not distinct—it’s got influences all across the board, and only some were bound to land with me (although one might argue I’d be on board for all of it if he was good enough…. just sayin’). Certainly, there was a bit much of the long, low crooning type of drama for me from the outset, though it wasn’t necessarily a barrier to entry for me when these songs get funkier. “Dealer” was kind of what I imagine “yoinky sploinky” means, bouncing around in a corny, proggy way (or maybe that’s just the white funk bass I’m discovering a distaste for). Speaking of which, God forbid a Scottish boy get a little Bossa Nova on “Certain Surprise.” To my immense surprise, Emily made a Cameron Winter comparison that had me thinking “pfff, no way” for the majority of the album, but lo and behold, “Certain Surprise” was actually a dead ringer (is Bossa Nova what Cameron was going for??). Unfortunately, I also feel like Jack Johnson and Ray Lamontagne have an odd lineage with songs like “Big Muff” (goofy ahh title), especially the latter’s more psychedelic ventures. Strangely, I think these African-inspired beats can just as much be traced back to Talking Heads. A timeline is beginning to assemble itself in my head: I wonder if this evolved out of the Peter Gabriel/Talking Heads Eno eras that explored a lot of that African percussion, then became diluted the further it got from Eno. Luckily for Martyn, this is a pretty early iteration, so it’s not thaaat much less successfully. “Dancing” sort of an interesting summary of the album: the rhythm is super corny but the background has a psychedelic cyclic quality that I really enjoy. These are exactly the qualities that have me so mixed on this album. I feel like I should hate it, but I honestly would listen to this again—I almost downloaded “Small Hours” because of the suddenly emotionally cutting soundscape, and if it had developed beyond its atmospheric scope, it would’ve been an easy keeper. Overall, 3 stars is a very self conscious and cautious rating—maybe we’ll see revisions to this in the future. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 While fiyerflieser gleeemn ‼️‼️ Apologies to Emily because I think she’s gonna love this one. No shade to Count Basie, but I’m seeing a lot of reviews saying “back when we danced to REAL music”—I didn’t know that type of person was able to access the internet still. Too their credit, this is incredibly danceable stuff, and earns an extra half star solely because I think this would light my hair on fire live. That said, I’m rounding down because this isn’t live, and the lulls really show. For as frenetic and fun as “The Kid from Red Bank,” “Double-O,” and “Whirly bird” are, there’s a lot of smooth and slow music that (while certainly necessary on the dance floor) coalesce into easy-listening fifties malaise for me. Basically, a lot of slow songs are all sort of “bwa bwa bwaaaaaah bwum” with some bass plucking and “ts tt tt tss tt tt” drums and sort of smoky piano—very samey very quickly. Look, I know how that sounds, but rest assured, I know this type of music—our high school orchestra would tour state competitions with the jazz band, and I was constantly hearing their sets and their competitors. I know how much fun this stuff is, I know a wide sampling of what it sounds like (even if the players aren’t always this talented), and I feel educated enough to say, unfortunately, a lot of big band stuff just doesn’t do it for me. Like so much of the fifties, it’s got a really sanitized quality to it that’s very “American Dream” coded without the shadow that casts. For as ballsy as the atomic bomb on the cover probably was, nothing on here (to my knowledge) really warrants that subversive of a statement—also, none of it is nearly that explosive. Okay, all this sounds pretty harsh, but with all that said, it’s still a 3.5—this is super fun! I just feel like, for as tight as it is, I need to explain myself for why that score isn’t higher. That, and explain myself for Emily, certified City Park Jazz lover. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Maybe I’m wrong for expecting bigger things from Booker T., but this was very solidly a three. That’s not a bad thing, really, but given how tight the title track was—so instantly ubiquitous that I couldn’t even place where I’d first heard it without even knowing its name—I guess I just wanted a little more bluesy-jazzy, you know, oomph. These covers were all fine—nice, even—but I really think this lineup feels way more suited for instrumentals. This sixties organ is, to me, a really iffy substitute for vocals—something about such a churning, bubbly sound having such abrupt cutoffs prevents it from ever really lingering on a note, which is the main draw for a lot of the vocal harmonies it’s attempting to imitate. Still, I’m not too insufferable to have fun. In reality, I’m actually very fun, relaxed, and easygoing. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Apologies to Emily because I KNOW she’s gonna love this one. And yea, though I know my mom won’t go near Joni Mitchell, I wanted to love this one too. I’ve come to really trust Emily’s taste, even if we like a lot of different stuff—if she was this excited about Blue, then I hoped I could love it too. I tried, I really did, but with her sparse and predictable instrumentation and lyrics that live up little to the reputation she’s amassed, I can’t say I’ve been convinced to Stan Joni. Notably, I didn’t mention her voice there, which I think is also supposed to be the stuff of legend. That’s because I’m really not sure about it. There was a point, in this album, where I felt just-below-middling about those vocals, which are full of lilting, sixties flourishes—round o’s and frail, trembling belts (she says “go” like “goh”?). I was especially irked with her skibidi-bop vibrato thing—part of me is like, girl, nothing about this song warrants all that. I’m not sure I can justify that kind of free-form flow state during that regular-ass piano stuff, but I can’t say it feels performative, either, which would be my point against it—without that, I’m no better for adoring Kate Bush (and a major hypocrite, at that). So that I could maintain my virtuous perch atop the moral high ground, I tried to really consider what makes this tick, and to Joni’s credit, I realized she builds out her melodies in a really interesting way. These aren’t really straightforward crescendos, even though it’s clearly signposted where those vocals are going—instead, it’s a clambering ascent, taking a zigzagging path like she’s softly bouldering. While this did make a couple of scattered rhythms click, I’ll admit this didn’t win me over emotionally. The classics, in particular, were where I expected this stuff to get really juicy—lyrically or musically—but they did little for me, either. “California” was one of my least favorites, and though the Apple Music review for Blue glazes the lyrics of “My Old Man” to no end, there really wasn’t anything extraordinary to me about saying when her partner’s gone the frying pan feels too big—like, it’s a neat detail and I like it, but I’m struggling to find the inimitable monumentality in it. What I will say earns that reverence was “A Case of You,” whose respect from me was hard-won after that corny title (which I thought was supposed to be a case as in illness, but is actually a case as in Wine, but guess what? That’s still corny). Those lyrics were had me arrested similarly to Leonard Cohen, but with a distinct literary flavor—though I should’ve been locked in from the opening lines, I was hooked after “oh I am a lonely painter / and I live in a box of paints / I’m frightened by the devil / and I’m drawn to those that ain’t afraid.” Still, that “Jingle bells”-ass song—rippin’ off like an Oasis Christmas—was about where I finally accepted that I resented having to give this a full listen, even if it did end interestingly. Ultimately, I walked away liking just “All I Want” and “Carey,” though I still detected notes of something interesting beneath the cheese of “River” and “A Case of You.” I will be listening to all four again because I’m not giving up on Joni, hence the three stars—this was more good than bad, certainly better than proficient, and I was only a little bit irritable by the end of the album. 1: Bad | 2: Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded up because surely I could come to like this, or perhaps because I refuse to let go of Sly and the Family Stone’s intrinsic perfection) Alright, fine, I’ll be the poser this time—this is nothing like “Stand!” and I oughta booze up and riot about it. Look, I’m usually the one defending departure albums, stylistic shakeups, tonal shifts and the like, because often they bring imagination and experimentation with them. I also am always down for sinister sounds, obviously, which Apple Music’s review promised I was in for. Knowing this was a supposedly more bitter, cynical Sly and his Family Stone this go-around, I knew it wasn’t going to be as happy as the songs I knew and love, but I was still expecting to have fun, is that makes sense, or have funk—you know, get into a groove, feel playful even if the mood was lower. So, yea, my middling feelings aren’t because “There’s a Riot Goin’ On” got a little bit more serious with its subject matter—they’re because it doesn’t even feel like a Riot Goin’ On! If anything, these vague grooves feel more like a poorly organized demonstration where it’s too hot and everyone’s just milling in the park—not even standing in the roads, man! More generously, I’d describe this one as really loose and kind of easier listening than the title suggests—not all that dark, musically, at least not in a way I’m receiving. Maybe “Runnin’ Away” had a nice balance of the sort of melancholy-peppy sound that like that I suppose the Apple Music description was alluding to, but if that’s the case, “sinister” was a poor choice of words. Honestly, this is more like that thirteen-minute sex song on “Stand!” that doesn’t really funk hard enough to earn its title, and there are many cases here where I can say the same: “Brave & Strong” and “Spaced Cowboy” are kind of interesting or even fun, but not very becoming of the title. I also perked up hearing the “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf)” motif appearing on “Thank You for Talkin’ To Me, Africa,” but the contrast between this version and the actual song really illustrates exactly why I’m not vibing with this one. I can imagine myself eventually becoming accustomed to and being able to identify most of these mellow grooves, but I’m not sure the overall impression of the album would draw me back enough to do that. Maybe if this was any other middling soul album I wouldn’t find this so meh, but knowing this is Sly and the Family Stone is what sort of shocks me. They all have such strong vocals, but everything is murmured here. They all have such explosive passion, but everything is sort of exhausted here. Maybe I missed something in the lyrics—I know someone just gonna roll their eyes when they get to this part, but uh, I was on a plane when I listened to this and wasn’t getting all of the words—but come on, man, should the music not also speak? I’m certain the exhaustion is supposed to reflect a political mood, but even that isn’t embodied, which is what I’ve come to expect from Sly. Man! What a bummer. Such strong vocals usually but most everything is sort of murmured here 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 (rounded down because I was bored to “tears of rage” aha no but really) I kind of love this album cover, but its blotchy, childlike style had me expecting, foolishly, something janglier. I was onboard for Sparklehorse or Tall Dwarfs when this was more like Spanklehorse and Y’all Dwarfs? This type of music is real hit or miss for me. Though this is my first time hearing about it; Music from Big Pink was a familiar listen in that I’ve experienced its gradual letdown many times before. After liking a lot of isolated late sixties-early seventies rock songs (probably from Wes Anderson or Quentin Tarantin🤢 movies)—the kind with straining male harmonies, nearly whiny but clearly bearded, and guitar that rides the line between banjo twang and chugging crunch—I sought out a lot of full albums from these artists thinking I’d just struck gold. I’d listen to the album and start off really digging it, only to quickly realize I was straining to make myself enjoy it. By the end I’d have sworn off hippies like I was Reagan himself, but it always wore off in time for me to trick myself into another album (this has been happening as recently as Vincebus Eruptum from this very list). I’m still admitting to myself that I don’t like the sixties as much as I thought—I really hate to say this, but there’s a reason I’d only heard the greats before this. Case in point: I got excited seeing that this bizarre album cover came from ‘68, and dove in hoping for the best. A more relatable comparison than that, perhaps, is another familiar experience: opening bands. I’m an opener hater as much as the next guy, but I don’t want to hate them—the gig’s gotta suck, so when one starts strong enough to shake me from impatience, I always root for them. 9 times out of 10, my faith is not rewarded—each song might start strong enough, with a hook and memorable personality, but that little burst of novelty quickly fizzles once it sets in that this is all there is—maybe their inexperienced sound crew mixes all their instruments into a homogenous sludge or maybe the song isn’t any more than its opening notes, but something just doesn’t carry the performance. This is, to me, pretty similar to how The Band felt to me. Perhaps that’s because this album, from what I gather, was pretty much just a recorded jam sesh, but I’d defend the vision there—sometimes there’s a magic to the first take that can’t be recaptured. Then again, I sure don’t feel like I’m listening to that magic happen here—it’s far too downtempo and samey to me. With that attitude, they’re never gone overcome their twang, although that’s not a drawback for everyone. Maybe if it was an hour longer they’d have hit their stride, but this felt an awful lot like a warm-up to me. That’s not to say there weren’t highlights. Though I’m not sure I’d listen again, I thought “To kingdom come,” “Long Black Veil,” and “Chest Fever” were fun enough. In light of all of this sameness, I appreciate what “This Wheel’s on Fire” was trying to be but its clunkiness didn’t strike me as endearing or artful—it just struck me as clunky. I can see getting that cheesy organ stuck in my head, but that don’t mean I have to like it. 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 (rounded up because like dude) Okay, so, obviously, Paranoid is a five-star album, and I’ve known that since middle school. The hits are as perfect as ever: on every re-listen, “War Pigs” still give me chills from its he doleful opening sirens to Satan’s spreading wings, and sneering riff opening “Hand of Doom” remains masterfully, gleefully creepy. Every time I listen, though, I find something new to like: “Jack the Stripper / Fairies Wear Boots” has always been an underrated favorite of mine (and not just because of that title), and I will never forget being blessed by Sabbath on their farewell tour with a rendition of “Rat Salad” so good, I can pinpoint it as the exact moment I realized drum solos rule. This go-around, I came to appreciate “Planet Caravan,” which is both so dated and somehow still unique in its essence—even though there’s a lot that’s approximately like it, nothing quiet captures that specific, ethereal atmosphere. I want to say there’s no denying Paranoid’s near-perfection but, as with all of these things, there’s a little bit of denying it. Even I’m not often in the mood for Paranoid; the title track, “Iron Man,” and “Electric Funeral,” undeniable classics as they may be, have even so been flattened by their classic status, and they rock in a way that’s become a bit bland for me at my most stuck-up pickiest. When I think of Paranoid criticism that sticks, two things come to mind (though with time only one will remain). The first comes from Jeff Tweedy’s substack, where he recorded a really wonderfully foreboding acoustic cover of “War Pigs” the week Ozzy died. Tweedy there remembers how he used to scoff a bit at the clunkiness of Black Sabbath’s lyrics, and even in middle school, I couldn’t deny that either—rhyming “masses” with “masses” in the opening lines always felt a little, I don’t know, stupid to me, and their habit of awkwardly stretching phrases to fit a rhythm didn’t really help. Sometimes, Paranoid even feels like that musically—even songs as sublime as “Hand of Doom” are subject to abrupt tempo changes that bring the song to a complete halt, and I can’t imagine this achieves the intended effect. But, in their defense, Tweedy says that—and I’m paraphrasing—you don’t critique someone’s eloquence when they’re shouting “fire!” Thinking of that always makes me misty; behind all their cackling, satanic wrath, these were angry kids, and they were angry because they were scared, and they were scared because the evil they are so often accused of glorifying had turned their world upside down. It’s just raw, man, but fantastically so—not the same sort of raw that leaves me ragged and defenseless, but the concussive, wild rawness of fireworks or surviving a brush with the unknown. This brings me to the second critique I keep thinking of, and certainly the less tenable of the two: a two-star review on this site that I found both thoughtful and condescending comparing Sabbath’s songs to kebabs. Rock, so they say, is a simple cut-and-paste template and, to their credit, they think Sabbath maximizes its potential, stacking as much cheese and meat on as they can. But apparently, within these limited confines, it fails to express the rip-roarin’ groove of, say, James Brown. I guess I can’t hold it against this person if they simply don’t get it—I’m no better for not getting Joni Mitchell, if that’s the case, feeling zero resonance though her soul is oozing out of each piece. Then again, I don’t get how you couldn’t get Paranoid, couldn’t feel moved by it. I’ll admit it: I’ve always found a slight flatness (maybe just intonation-wise) in the way most Black Sabbath sounds, like it could go higher, deeper, angrier—despite what a shock it must’ve been in its day, part of me will always concede that it sounds old. Yet I think this is essential to the rough, rusty, roadburn of it—the industrial, crumbling backdrop, compressed as if broadcast across the gales of an irradiated wasteland of time. I saw another review I loved that said these songs could’ve been chanted in the Stone Age, and that’s why they overcome the flattening aspects of their production. Paranoid is not molten, it’s tough—it’s an attack, it’s a blast, each song as driving as the last, but that heat comes from the clashing metal therein. 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Superbiased towards Supergrass because my Dad was binging their discography right around the time I was born so I feel like a bit of their essence was infused into my soul, though clearly not enough, because I wish I was half as amped up as this twice as often. Even though I’ve (consciously) listened to only one Supergrass album in full, I’ve pretty much already listened to I Should Coco collage-style—over the years, I’ve sporadically saved nine of thirteen tracks. Really, this just felt like a greatest hits montage for me, and that’s alright—“greatest” is the operative word. My defining adjective for Supergrass would be “delight.” If I were afforded two words, it would be “unbridled delight;” if I were afforded three, it would be “this shit rips.” In high school, I never really related to other kids’ music tastes, and I don’t mean that to be some kind of quirklord, I just really felt like my music was so remote from everyone else’s and I was afraid to be judged when sharing it. When I finally started making people playlists, Supergrass was always on there—“Mansize Rooster” was a mainstay—because I assumed everyone had to like Supergrass; I assumed it was impossible to not like Supergrass. Their fun (delight) is infectious—how can you not want to thrash to some of these songs? An album like this is just pop-rock mastery—military-grade hooky, monty-python playful, and, speaking of which, sledgehammer-over-the-head British. Obviously, every song is just bursting with energy, but even an album like that risks flattening into samey-ness, which this album admittedly does on songs like “Caught by the Fuzz,” “Lenny,” or “She’s so Loose” (in my opinion). What really takes this album to the next level is its hyperactive imagination—the band takes its more psychedelic turns and tempo changes into stride so snappily that it feels like they couldn’t be contained, and that they’re holding back that spazzy child in slower songs like “Time” or “Time Goes On” (and it does) towards the end. I guess that’d be the squeaky-high harmonies, pitched-up “Strange Ones,” and Gaz Coombes’s cartoonish vocals talking—“Strange Ones” is delightfully distressing, and it’s exactly the shot in the arm that makes this album so great. Check out the bonus tracks, too—predictably delightful covers of “Just Dropped in (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)” and Hendrix’s “Stone Free” played at—perhaps this his heretical to say—the speed it was meant to be played. 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 Alright, cute that this shows up today, but come on—it’s tough to rank this one any honest way the day after she died, having just seen the miles-long scroll of her good deeds unfurled. I don’t know much about Dolly Parton but what I do know is that she’s an untouchable treasure or some such—a font of love and tough feminine might who put just about every low-income kid through school. Even without it being in the immediate aftershock of her death, given humanity’s enormous debt to Dolly Parton, I’m sure there’s no day when this rating would’ve been easy. Mostly, given how little tolerance I have for both artificially saccharine country, I was just afraid I’d have to dislike Dolly Parton’s work in secret. Good news, though: this one kinda slaps. Sure, I found what I expected to dislike in the music: all the standard chords, key changes, and “happy” keys were here, none of which I can explain my disdain for but which nonetheless seem to be go-to components of mass-appeal babyfood music. I’m even going to toe over the line here and say I wasn’t always a fan of Dolly’s objectively powerful voice, especially when she switches her vibrato up to “Smoothie Grate.” But wait before you grab your pitchforks, because despite all of that, this was far from grating for me—for how samey the music might seem, I thought Coat of Many Colors lived up to its title by delivering a truckload of tones and ideas in a consistent, short, and snappy listen. The heart and soul of this, of course, is Dolly Parton’s own presence. For as harsh as that description of Dolly’s voice was, I think it should come with the caveat that she’s, like, a songbird incarnate. Her quivery vibrato is so dynamic even if it’s not always my style, somehow delicate and clear without losing its forcefulness. What’s great to me, though, is that her charisma carries this through even when she’s practically talking—that little chuckle on “Travelin’ Man?” Come on. Like I mentioned, many of these harmonies also aren’t particularly my style, but I’ll admit they still gave me chills, particularly on “My Blue Tears.” Because I’m always trying to justify why my music taste is objectively correct to the grand cosmic arbiter of all music, our lord and savior Jesus Christ, I did find myself trying to work for me what wasn’t landing (sonically) about the title track, “Coat of Many Colors,” but was working with “Travelin’ Man.” At first I thought it was because the latter has a little bit of edge to it—that taboo and goofy country twist—but I think it’s more complicated than that. A lot of songs here, like “Early Morning Breeze” or “Here I Am,” were also unabashedly happy like “Coat of Many Colors,” but they didn’t feel as syrupy, and I got really into them as a byproduct. This thought is still in progress, but I’m wondering if it’s less about edge and more about palpable passion, drive—ballads generally don’t land as successfully with me, and I’m wondering if that’s the key factor here. Whatever I think, what is actually objective is the fact that Coat of Many Colors is a tight album that packs in quite a collection of characters without sacrificing its singular identity. This diversity is most apparent lyrically: I was pleasantly surprised that there’s just as much spirituality as the usual tales of two-timing country lovers (and I’m sure “The Mystery of the Mystery” is hitting hard for a lot of Dolly fans out there). It’s really astute, in a way, that she can flit between winking taboo tales, the drama of poverty, and the eternal mysteries of the soul and staying down to earth the entire time (couldn’t be me). While the music definitely blends together more, especially towards the middle, there were quite a few glimmers of individuality there, too—the slide guitar was fun on “If I Lose my Mind,” and “Early Morning Breeze” was really funky out of nowhere! Overall, it’s a relief to like this one. It’s cheesy but sweet and hokey but earnest and I thought it had an undimmable joyousness to it. And gosh, it feels weird to use all of these swirling, wordy phrases about an album, a person, that’s just so much more sensical, to-the-point. The world needs more unflagging earnestness, and Dolly’s bringing more than I am, that’s for sure. I would easily revisit “Early Morning Breeze,” “Here I Am,” and “My Blue Tears,” “A Better Place to Live.” 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Aw, come on, how am I supposed to rank this one fairly either? Stand! is another one of those albums I’ve heard practically every song from already—all the best ones, anyway—so the experience of listening to it is less regarding the entire thing as a whole as it is just waiting for the ones I like to come on. And there’s a lot to like, I’ll tell ya that—“Stand!,” “Sing a Simple Song,” “Everyday People,” “Sing a Simple Song,” and, indeed, “Don’t Call Me N****r, Whitey” (despite all of the “erm… so… THAT song was really something” hand-wringing. Like, get it together, man, that’s like the least controversial racial song from this era—would love to know if these people are the same ones who defended the Rolling Stones’s “Brown Sugar”)… what an unbeatable lineup. Like, Sly electrocuted Funkenstein’s Monster to life here, and really, few things come close to being as good as this for me. That said, maybe it’s the legendary context, but “I Want to Take You Higher” and “Somebody’s Watching You” just didn’t quite reach five-star heights for me, and “Sex Machine” just did not justify its fourteen minute runtime, which, criminally, is neither too remarkably short nor too remarkably long to make any jokes about. And like, man, I can hang with a double-digit sex jam—I was, maybe regrettably, locked the fuck in for the entirety of George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex” before that album has even come up on our list—but I just couldn’t get into the groove of this one as much. Still, I reckon four stars is actually a pretty conservative score for this one, and for once I’ll regret going too low. 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 (narrowly) In my Emo phase? No, in my Eno phase bro. Love him so much, and I’ve been excited for this album to crop up. Though Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy still, so far, reigns supreme as my favorite pre-ambient Eno solo album (stipulation city), as far as individual songs go, “King’s Lead Hat” could be among my favorite solo Eno bops alongside “Needle in the Camel’s Eye,” “Baby’s On Fire,” and “Third Uncle.” Having only heard that song and the goofier, Bowie/Talking Heads-esque “No One Receiving” off of Before and After Science, I assumed these two songs were sort of opposite ends of the album’s spectrum, which I guess set me up to expect much more of a rocker. Turns out, these are both towards the higher end of the rockin’ spectrum, with “King’s Lead Hat” being far and away the jangliest this album gets. That’s fine, I guess—this is, after all, approaching his ambient era—but I do sort of mourn the idea of this album I had in my head. In reality, it’s a much more atmospheric, contemplative sound, though not without its hints of pop—I can’t help but wonder if one of my faves, Jim Noir, was emulating Before and After Science after hearing the mellower, rolling “Here He Comes” and “Spider and I.” Maybe I was just in the wrong mood for this sort of album—it doesn’t hit on a hot, stressed, and tired day like I’d like it to—but I can tell it’s good because my list of liked songs kept getting longer even though my general impression seemed unimpressed. “Backwater,” “Kurt’s Rejoinder,” “Energy Fools the Magician” (fantastic title btw), and “Julie With...” all stuck with me, and ”By the River” made a big impact on me despite being so slow. Today, this is dwindling above a 3.5, but I’m guessing subsequent listens will make this a bit higher. 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌑🌑 Okay, whatever, Eels. I remember hearing “Novocaine for the Soul” and “Beautiful Freak” around the same time—in high school—and loving them because I was just old enough to be emo and just young enough to lack discernment. I still stand by these songs, especially the first—I even wrote a short story that sucked called “Before I Sputter Out” ripped from its lyrics—but on almost every listen since my first, I’ve been really on the fence about a lot of aspects. I think I remember hearing that the frontman was, like, REALLY going through it, so I’m not leveling poser allegations against him, but there’s a certain put-on-ness about many aspects of “Novocaine for the Soul,” and, by proxy, the entire album, that I suspect is a transitional form between nineties grunge-y soft rock and the lab-grown whine of emo pop punk. His voice has always ridden the line for me—it just barely works, but I think it sounds purposefully strained in a way that makes me feel resistant to taking it seriously. There are a lot of musical cues here too that I’ve learned to raise an eyebrow at. I wouldn’t have known it in high school, but the drum-loop-over-grainy-strings-samples in so many of these songs read to me as sort of a disingenuous attempt at signposting something is indie these days, though I wonder if Eels started this trend. There’s a hint of “twisted nursery rhyme” cadence in several of these songs, once again chiefly “Novocaine,” and it’s something I think I was way more into in High School before I realized it’s kind of baby’s first subversion and almost always ends up corny. It’s a bummer, but I even feel that way about the entire “Beautiful Freak” motif in the album—a tough defeat, since it’s a concept I resonate really deeply with but that seems to be so easily commodified and clichéd. Even on this album, “Beautiful Freak” makes its unsubtle but sweet statement, and then is soon followed by “Beloved Monster”—huh?! Did we just look in the thesaurus? The titles really do reek of this sadboy wordbank: “Novocaine for the Soul,” “Rags to Rags,” “Beautiful Freak,” “My Beloved Monster,” “Mental,” “Your Lucky Day in Hell,” and “Manchild” all feel like cookie-cutter poetry from the antisocial, reject, outcast stereotype of the last few decades. I can only hope, once again, that Eels predates this and these were genuine statements before they became tragically flat. Then again, flat or not, there was a time in my life when this vocabulary felt heartfelt and honest, and maybe that’s the sort of mindset I need to return to when listening to Eels. All this harshness aside, I found myself liking the album in general through this critical haze. I think “Beloved Monster” (even if redundant), “Mental,” and “ 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Sometimes, I feel like all this list does for me is confirm my biases: gives me either albums I’ve had on my list because I already know I’m going to like them, or shows me albums I haven’t heard of and, after listening, know why I haven’t heard of them. I’ve had a fair few at this point that I did enjoy, but these typically haven’t stayed in the rotation all that long for me. One of the few exceptions to that was Remain in Light, which was essentially my first exposure to Talking Heads outside of the classics. While I still like that one best, Fear of Music is now a close second, which is weird because my star rating is .5 higher than what I gave Remain in Light. That’s because I’ve been so lazy that I didn’t rate Fear of Music until I’d already listened to it three times, and I’m so glad I did. I always hate to admit this, but this one took me three listens to get, and that’s not a chance I afford most albums, which makes me worry I’m missing out on stuff I arbitrarily skip over. In my defense, I knew I liked this one, but it all just sort of blended together the first two times I listened—a whole lotta angular, obtuse rhythms and David Byrne kind of strain-babbling “HUBABABABA! HUBABABABA! UAH! UAH!”—delightfully inimitable, obviously, but mostly diffuse across eleven interchangeable songs. I liked “I Zimbra,” “Cities,” and I guess “Heaven,” but none of the rest felt like they had distinguishable character, though it bothered me for quite some time that I couldn’t articulate why. Actually, maybe it was the botheredness that made me keep coming back to this album, and it’s a good thing I did, because something magically clicked on the third listen—not only did I start to recognize every melody, but they all felt identifiable and distinguishable as characters. All of the ones I felt samey on suddenly transformered (like the robot, clicking and whirring) into really enjoyable grooves. This didn’t even bring down the highs, either—“Heaven” suddenly became this soaring, soaked-in-pathos song like Bowie’s “Heroes.” What was I thinking?? Where has Talking Heads been all my life? 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 (rounded up to a four because come on) FUCK ALL REVIEWS IN THE WORLD!! Jeez, I didn’t know Soundgarden was a pressure point for me. I don’t know what touched a nerve with all of these “Nickelback would like this” and “straight man music” comments, which aren’t exactly bullshit. Certainly, Superunknown is littered with nineties hallmarks, from its super fuzz crunch guitar, to its “dugga dugga” rhythms, to that type of bridge where the song quiets down and the singer has like a radio-style vocal filter as the song chugs louder and louder (looking at you, “Spoonman”—not so epic after the first time). I think I’m going to sound like a cannibal who says he’s not as bad as the other cannibals because he only eats old people or something, but to hell with it—I think Soundgarden is a cut above their contemporaries, and as nineties as they are, they’re really nothing like “Nickelback,” fuck you very much. Maybe it’s because Chris Cornell is such a powerhouse, but I think that’s not all—for all of the latent pop progressions infused in manufactured grunge and nu-metal types, I think Soundgarden makes more mature music that’s just juicier than their peers. This is gonna be hypocritical in a second, but I’d even say they’ve got decent range—my dad always says he doesn’t think Soundgarden is grunge as much as they are metal, and I might even be more in that camp than he is. Soundgarden is great, man. But is Superunknown? I don’t know if I’d say great, exactly, though it is solid. I haven’t listen to a single Soundgarden album in full, but I was surprised to find I already had six songs downloaded: “My Wave,” “Superunknown,” “Head Down,” “Black Hole Sun, “Spoonman,” AND “The Day I Tried to Live.” On any reasonable record, that’d be, at most, half the tracks, but this closer to a third of sixteen-song Superunknown. Aside from “The Day I Tried to Live,” the entire second side was fresh to me. I suppose that could’ve been a good sign—if I liked that many songs, maybe I was in for ten more gems—but I had a feeling this one would wear down some of its best attributes, and unfortunately, I wasn’t off the mark. Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t a ton of five-star songs here—everyone seems to agree that “Black Hole Sun” and “Spoonman” are the only notable tracks, which is proof that wisdom of the masses is a logical fallacy to me because they’re disregarding “Let Me Drown,” “Head Down,” “The Day I Tried to Live,” which I think are all as good as (or objectively better than) the hits. I’m also partial to “My Wave” despite its almost pop riff, and the title track “Superunknown” is rapidly rising in the ranks. Regarding the hits themselves, it’s strange that they’re the most well-liked because I think they’re some of the most (relatively) dated stuff on here. I wish I liked “Black Hole Sun” as much as I did in middle school when I’d never heard it a billion times on the Sirius nineties channel and didn’t know the signs of nineties psychedelic revival, which never hits like the sixties stuff. Even then, I can’t deny the harmonies on the “won’t you come” section and the descending riff that closes that out—it’s pretty great stuff. As for the actual black hole of the record, that mysterious second half, I unfortunately think this is another one of those woeful cases where I’d already heard the best stuff beforehand. It’s admittedly pretty samey after sixteen songs, which is a flatness I find pervades a lot of hard rock and metal albums—it’s tough to keep the momentum up when the loudness grinds you down, and I think poorly deployed thrashing and screaming really starts to become white noise after a certain point. Of course, that’s compounded here because there *isn’t* a lot of thrashing and screaming, and it’s pretty midtempo despite its production. This results in songs like “Like Suicide,” which unfortunately comes the closest to the Nickelback comparisons (although still miles ahead, mind you) with its nineties ballad sound. I wanted to like standouts like “4th of July” and “Half” because they mix it up a bit, but neither really hit me. So, unfortunately, I’ve gotta concede that this isn’t an incredible album, although it’s earned itself the round-up to compensate for the fact that I’m taking the songs I already knew for granted. I’m sure if I heard this all at once for the first time, I’d be pretty blown away by the overall effect, which I’m sure would outshine the weaker spots. 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑 Finally. The Enchanting Wizard of Rhythm. People don’t seem to like the overstimulated, explosive, “Where’s Waldo”esque sampling on this one? Really? THIS IS 90’S BECK BITCH! we everything but the kitchen sink in this motherfucker better take your sensitive ass back to Colors… Okay, but really, I know this is a classic, but I wouldn’t go to bat as much for Odelay as much as I would for, say, Midnite Vultures—controversial, maybe, I don’t really know, but where that album is able to channel its scatterbrained sonic mania into a scathingly sarcastic and ceaseless album, Odelay really does feel like a reanimated scrapyard monster stumbling drunkenly about with spare, rusted-out pieces clattering out of its rickety skeleton. I don’t mean that as a bad thing, per se, but sometimes it really does exceed my squirreliness metric with its whining tones and abrasive shrieks, but by god, at least he’s having fun. Beck’s musical imagination in this era felt like accidentally setting off the whole fireworks show at once, and joining forces with the Dust Brothers in a flow state reminiscent of their best work with Beastie Boys, he created a fantastic album like a playground built over a live minefield. It really does turn on a dime like that in so many myriad ways, but probably the most exciting is genre—you can tell they really geeked out collecting samples and influences to collage. For as much as its rough production occasionally makes my ears bleed, it’s also so easy to rock with—I mean, most of it is pretty chill if you can get past the occasional shrill. And what a motherfucking lineup—“Devil’s Haircut,” “The New Pollution,” “Lord Only Knows,” “Sissyneck,” “Deadweight….” and that’s not even a comprehensive list of the ones I like, that’s just off the top of my head. And don’t think I forgot “Hotwax”—did I mention Beck is really fucking funny? 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 (rounded up, though I’m holding myself back with both hands around my feet and two feet wedged in the doorframe—and why?) Man, Led Zeppelin fucking rocks. Why do I always forget? When I got excited that III was today’s album, Emily told me she never really thought of Led Zeppelin as a band that I liked, which I thought was crazy until I remembered how often I take extended breaks from the band. When’s the last time I listened to a Led Zeppelin song? Probably “In the Light” from Physical Graffiti, but only because my Dad recommended it. Before that? I’d wager “Hey, Hey, What Can I Do?” probably five, six months ago because I put it on a playlist for someone. Beyond that, they just don’t come up for me all that much, and I’m guessing it’s because—clench up, this is heretical—I think IV is waaayy overplayed. Trust me, I listened to it just as much as anyone else and then some more in Middle School, and I think I just really burnt out on it. Even so, I think Led Zeppelin lands relatively high in my completely futile band ranking—there’s bands that are my untouchable absolute favorites, then there’s bands that pop up into the favorites tier but return for a time, and if Led Zeppelin isn’t in that category, I’d say they’re just below, and that’s because my nerve endings are just so fried from how much Led Zeppelin I listened to as a middle schooler. I’ve only listened to the first four in full, so I can’t say for sure, but my pained controversial take is that III is my tentative favorite. IV might objectively be the best, what with how impossibly stacked its lineup is, but when it comes to a cohesive whole, III ekes out on vibes alone. Yea, “Immigrant Song” is on this one, but ironically, it’s one of the songs I come back to the least (maybe I never need to with the amount of airplay it gets, but I genuinely do like it—it just isn’t my favorite)—maybe this is just a tragic consequence of its incessant needledroppage, but to be honest, I think it’s the only song that doesn’t sound like it belongs on this album. I think that’s because this album has such a distinct sound, even amongst Led Zeppelin’s stuff, and what a sound it is. The best description I have for it is “electric frolic,” although given the recent tumblrization of that word, I’d hesitate to stand by a description that could neuter III. In reality, there’s something really difficult for me to capture, exactly, about why I like this style so much—it’s kind of how I wanted Black Sabbath’s Sabotage to sound when I’d only just heard “Symptom of the Universe” and “Hole in the Sky” (see “Out on the Tiles”), but it’s still distinctly its own—a very sun-stained yellow-green strain. Maybe it comes from such dark, downtuned, and thumping guitars playing (mostly) rough-around-the-edges romping music. The result is oddly very crisp and alpine to me, although if this was flipped—like, if someone asked me to describe what mountain music would be—this would be the last thing I’d think of. Though I have a distinct association with listening to this in early Spring of 2021, just thawing from covid anhedonia, here’s sort of a “summers past” essence to it—specifically, saturated, mountain summers with film grain spring to mind, though not entirely idyllic. Rather than tipping too hippy-dippy, I think there’s a great gradient between chugging electric (“Celebration Day”), chugging acoustic (“Bron-Y-Aur Stomp”), brooding acoustic (“Friends”), and brooding electric (“Since I’ve Been Loving You”). And yea, for as happy as this album makes me, that brooding gets HEAVY. I somehow managed to avoid hearing “Since I’ve Been Loving You” for most of my life, but when I first heard it, it instantly dethroned “When the Levee Breaks” as my favorite bluesy Zeppelin song—for as blackened crunchy as “Levee” is, “Since I’ve Been Loving You” has all of these almost operatic swells that don’t lose an inch of their stylistic grit in the process. Most of the time, though, even the blues have a dare-I-say playful and occasionally psychedelic flavor (“Hats off to (Roy) Harper”) that might ultimately be why I love this one so much. I’m going to listen to it two more times—it’s been long enough, right? 1: Bad | 2: Below Okay, No Desire to Revisit | 3: Good, Conditionally (OR Inconsistent Mix of Qualities) | 4: Great (OR Technically amazing but missing the sauce emotionally) | 5: Amazing