I knew 3 songs. Loved the variety. "Do It Again" was hypnotic. "Kings" surprised me with its prog feel. "Midnite Cruiser" leaned jazz rock. "Brooklyn" reminded me of early Eagles. "Fire in the Hole" made me think of JY from Styx. Favorite new song: "Change of the Guard." Would absolutely buy on vinyl.
When Disintegration was released in 1989, I was fresh out of Navy boot camp and attending A School. At the time, my musical tastes leaned heavily toward hard rock, hair metal, and R&B, so The Cure was never really on my radar. Aside from "Lovesong," I was essentially hearing this album for the first time.
One of the first things that struck me was how patient it is. Several songs begin with long instrumental introductions that don't feel like filler. They reminded me of the overture to a Broadway show, setting the mood before the story begins. It quickly became clear that this wasn't just a collection of songs. It was an album meant to be experienced from beginning to end.
The first half really drew me in. "Pictures of You" was my favorite discovery. At more than seven minutes long, it somehow felt like half that. "Fascination Street" was another standout, with an energy that reminded me at times of U2's expansive sound. Hearing "Lovesong" in the context of the album also gave me a greater appreciation for why it became such a hit.
The second half didn't connect with me as strongly. "The Same Deep Water as You" and "Homesick" never quite grabbed my attention, although I did enjoy "Untitled" as a closing track. Overall, I found the first half more memorable than the second.
Even though I landed on a 3/5, I'm very glad I listened to Disintegration. I can understand why it's considered one of the greatest albums of all time, even if it didn't become a personal favorite. More importantly, it reminded me why I'm doing this project. Listening to an album from start to finish reveals things you simply don't notice when you only hear the singles. That's an experience I'm looking forward to repeating 999 more times.
I was already familiar with Regatta de Blanc. I've listened to all of The Police's albums before, with Synchronicity always being "my" Police album. What made this experience different was listening with complete intention.
"Message in a Bottle" has long been my favorite Police song, so the album already had a head start. Beyond that, I came away with a much deeper appreciation for how naturally The Police blended punk, new wave, reggae, and rock into a sound that was unmistakably their own. The reggae influence ebbs and flows throughout the album without ever taking over. It's an ingredient, not the whole recipe.
I also appreciated how cohesive the band sounded at this stage of their career. Every member contributes something essential, and it was fun hearing Stewart Copeland step out from behind the drums to sing lead on a couple of tracks. The chemistry between the three musicians was undeniable.
I found myself enjoying several deep cuts just as much as the singles, especially "Deathwish," "It's Alright for You," "On Any Other Day," and "No Time This Time." There were a couple of songs that didn't stand out as much, but they didn't take away from the overall experience.
This project is already teaching me that there's a big difference between hearing an album and truly listening to one. I'd played Regatta de Blanc before. This was the first time I really listened.
I couldn't have asked for better timing. Just days after the Newport Jazz Festival wrapped up, my random album was Ellington at Newport, recorded at the very same festival 70 years earlier. Living just 10 to 15 minutes from Newport made the experience even more special.
I listened to the complete concert, and I'm glad I did. This wasn't just a collection of songs. It felt like being transported back to the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival. From the introductions and audience reactions to Duke Ellington enthusiastically encouraging his musicians, I felt completely immersed in the performance.
The defining moment came during "Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue." I had no idea it was one of the most famous live performances in jazz history. I was taking notes when, about two minutes into the song, I suddenly stopped. Something had changed. I looked at my player just to see what I was hearing, and I literally got chills. The audience wasn't applauding because Ellington was famous. They were reacting to an incredible performance unfolding right before them. By the end, they were shouting, "More! More!" It rivaled the energy of any rock concert I've ever heard.
On a personal note, hearing "Sophisticated Lady" was especially meaningful because it was my grandmother's favorite song.
This became my first five-star album of the project. I expected to appreciate it as an important piece of music history. Instead, I experienced one of the greatest live performances I've ever heard.
I came into this album expecting not to like it because I've never been a big Neil Young fan. His voice has always been the biggest hurdle for me, and that didn't change. However, I was surprised by how much I appreciated his songwriting. More than once I found myself thinking, "This would be an incredible song if someone else were singing it."
As the album progressed, it slowly won me over. The lyrics were thoughtful, the harmonies were beautiful, and several songs really stood out. My favorite discovery was "When You Dance I Can Really Love," followed closely by "I Believe in You," "Birds," and "Only Love Can Break Your Heart." "Southern Man" was also a powerful listen, especially hearing it in its original context.
This album started as what I thought would be a 2-star experience, but the strength of the songwriting gradually raised it to a solid 3 stars. I finished with a much greater appreciation for Neil Young as a songwriter than I had before, even if I still don't connect with his distinctive vocal style.
I grew up hearing many of these songs on classic rock radio, so I thought I knew Who's Next. Listening to the album from beginning to end proved otherwise.
The hits are every bit as legendary as I remembered, but the biggest surprise was how strong the deeper cuts are. Songs like "Love Ain't for Keeping," "My Wife," and especially "The Song Is Over" stood alongside the classics rather than simply filling space between them.
What impressed me most was that there wasn't a weak link on the entire album. It opens with one of the greatest opening tracks in rock history, "Baba O'Riley," and closes with one of the greatest closers ever recorded, "Won't Get Fooled Again." The fact that both are on the same album is almost unfair.
Even after hearing several of these songs for decades, listening with fresh ears gave me a whole new appreciation for why Who's Next is considered one of the greatest rock albums ever made.
I remember when Violator came out in 1990 while I was stationed in the San Francisco Bay Area during my Navy days. Everyone at my favorite record store seemed excited about it, but I was more into hair metal and R&B at the time, so I never listened to the full album.
Thirty-six years later, I'm glad I finally did.
I'd always liked "Personal Jesus" and "Enjoy the Silence," but I really enjoyed discovering "World in My Eyes," "Sweetest Perfection," "Halo," and "Policy of Truth."
The production is excellent, and every song feels thoughtfully crafted. There aren't any weak tracks, and the album maintains a remarkably consistent quality from beginning to end. I was never bored, but I also never had that moment where I thought, "Wow, this is incredible."
It's a very solid album that I can appreciate more now than I probably would have back in 1990. While it didn't completely win me over, I understand why so many people consider it Depeche Mode's masterpiece.
Nothing on the album completely blew me away at first, but every song was at least good, and I kept hearing sounds that reminded me of music from different eras. At times I heard the Beatles and Pink Floyd, while some of the heavier blues-rock moments reminded me of Led Zeppelin. Other songs sounded surprisingly close to rock that would emerge in the ’80s and ’90s.
“Buick Mackane” was the first real banger for me and my favorite discovery. “Telegram Sam” was another highlight, with a guitar sound that immediately reminded me of “Bang a Gong (Get It On).”
Overall, I liked the album more for what I heard in its influence than for the individual songs themselves. For something released in 1972, parts of The Slider sounded remarkably ahead of their time. I may not want it in my vinyl collection, but after listening to it, I completely understand why it belongs on the 1,001 Albums list.
★★★½
Favorite Discovery: “Buick Mackane”
Vinyl Verdict: No
Well that's 39 minutes of my life I'll never get back
I already knew several songs from this album, including “Drive,” “Everybody Hurts,” “Man on the Moon,” and “Nightswimming.” I especially enjoyed hearing “Drive” again since I don't hear it very often anymore.
A few of the slower songs, particularly “Try Not to Breathe” and “Sweetness Follows,” reminded me of the '70s singer-songwriter sound of artists like Harry Chapin. I also appreciated how much the sound changed throughout the album. Even when a song wasn't really grabbing me, the album never felt repetitive.
My favorite new discovery was “Ignoreland.” It picked up the pace and had more of the energetic R.E.M. sound I enjoy. “Star Me Kitten” was also interesting and different.
Overall, this was a good album, but not one I feel the need to own.
I went into Infected knowing very little about The The, and this was an interesting discovery.
The album is dark and politically charged, and I was surprised by how relevant songs like “Heartland” and “Angels of Deception” still feel nearly 40 years later. This definitely isn't an album to listen to when you want to escape reality for a while.
Musically, I enjoyed it. There’s a funky element running throughout the album that I wasn't expecting, and there really wasn't a song I disliked. “Infected” was a strong opener, and “The Mercy Beat” was an equally strong closer with a beat I loved.
I was sitting at three stars for most of the album, but the opening and closing tracks bumped it up to 3½. I enjoyed discovering The The and would listen to them again, but I wouldn't buy this one on vinyl.
⭐ 3½ stars
This was a fantastic album from beginning to end. I’ve always loved outlaw country, and Waylon Jennings reminded me why. He has an incredible voice, and the storytelling throughout this album is exactly what I love about great country music.
From the title track and traditional country sound of “Old Five and Dimers (Like Me)” to the storytelling of “Ain’t No God in Mexico,” the country-rock edge of “Black Rose,” and the beautiful closing song “We Had It All,” every track delivered.
There wasn’t one song that completely blew my mind, but there also wasn’t a single song I didn’t enjoy. Sometimes five stars comes from one or two incredible highs. This one earns five stars by being consistently great from beginning to end.
★★★★★
I guess I’m officially a Pink Floyd fan now! I loved how layered and atmospheric this album was. Even the longer songs never felt like they were going nowhere. “Welcome to the Machine” and “Have a Cigar” had some great things to say about the music industry, and learning the story of Syd Barrett gave “Wish You Were Here” even more meaning. Five stars and an easy vinyl buy!
It’s hard to believe this album came out in 1969. From the opening of “Ramblin’ Rose,” MC5 sounded a good eight to ten years ahead of their time. When “Kick Out the Jams” kicked in, I could immediately hear the sound that bands like the Ramones would later run with.
The raw live recording is a huge part of the appeal. These guys sound loud, dirty, aggressive, and completely unpolished, and I mean all of that as a compliment. The downside is that several of the songs started running together for me. They all rocked, but there wasn’t enough distinction between them. “Motor City Is Burning” was a welcome change with its bluesier sound, and “Starship” was a cool way to close things out.
At around 40 minutes, the album ended at exactly the right time. Any longer and I probably would have started checking out. I enjoyed every song, but I don’t see myself regularly sitting down to play the entire album again.
Still, this was a great discovery and one of those albums where I immediately understood why it belongs on the 1,001 list.
I went into Autobahn with a terrible attitude. Another electronic album? And the opening track is 22 minutes long? No thanks.
Then something unexpected happened: I changed the way I was listening.
This isn't an album to sample for singles. It's an experience, a complete work of art. Once I stopped waiting for conventional songs and listened to it as a soundscape, it came alive. The title track felt like driving through changing terrains. Later, the album took me somewhere eerie, then into what sounded like a dark cavern with dripping water, before the final track emerged into what I imagined as a beautiful spring morning.
Listening to Autobahn reminded me of looking at an abstract painting and finding your own meaning in it. And for something released in 1974, it's remarkable how clearly you can hear the future of electronic music and synth-heavy pop taking shape.
I immediately listened to the whole thing again. Eighteen minutes into that 22-minute opening track, I couldn't believe how quickly the time had passed.
I started out thinking I was waiting in line for the ride.
Turns out I was already on it.
Early on, I thought Brothers was heading toward three stars. “Everlasting Light” reminded me of The White Stripes, I liked “Next Girl,” and even “Tighten Up,” a song I used to change the station on, worked better in the context of the album.
Then everything started blending together.
At one point I realized I'd forgotten I was even listening to the album. Then it happened again. For an album so heavily influenced by blues and soul, I felt surprisingly little soul coming through. The songs weren't bad. They just weren't making me feel anything.
“Sinister Kid” briefly woke me up with its backing vocals, and ironically, the slower closing track, “These Days,” ended up being my favorite because it finally sounded different from everything that came before it.
I understand why Brothers stood out in 2010, when so much mainstream music was moving toward glossy electronic production. I can appreciate its place in that moment without particularly wanting to hear it again.
Yesterday, Kraftwerk held my attention for a 22-minute song. Today, The Black Keys couldn't consistently hold it for three or four minutes.
This one's just not the one for me.
I didn't need to listen to this before I die.
Not for me. “Human Cannonball” briefly gave me hope. It actually resembled a song, and for a few minutes I thought the album might dig itself out of the one-star hole. It didn't.
I’m definitely more of an East Coast rap guy, but I really enjoyed this one at first. The production is fantastic, and hearing the beginnings of the Death Row era and the sound that would define so much West Coast hip-hop was fascinating.
Some of the lyrics definitely haven’t aged well, but I can appreciate the album as an somebody who hasn't lived that life, and as a snapshot of its time.
“Lil’ Ghetto Boy” was another standout. Hearing Donny Hathaway’s voice from twenty years earlier addressing issues that were still relevant in 1992 was powerful. Sadly, more than thirty years later, much of it is still relevant today.
My biggest problem was the length. I was loving the album early on and thinking four stars, but eventually the similar sound and subject matter started wearing me down. By “Rat-Tat-Tat-Tat,” I could feel myself checking out.
Historically important, brilliantly produced, and absolutely worth hearing. I just think it could have been a tighter album.
I went into this knowing absolutely nothing about The Magnetic Fields, and there was a lot here that I liked. The different vocalists, constant shifts in style, and surprisingly short songs kept things interesting. “Sweet-Lovin’ Man” was probably my favorite, and I especially enjoyed how the album could jump from folk and country influences to experimental sounds and ’60s-style pop without warning.
But 69 songs is still 69 songs.
Even breaking it up into multiple listening sessions, I eventually hit a wall. The problem wasn't that the songs were bad. Most were actually pretty good. There was simply too much of it, and eventually I stopped wanting to hear more and just wanted to move on to the next album.
I appreciate the ambition and variety far more than I enjoyed the experience of listening to the entire thing. Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing.
The timing of this one was almost unbelievable. The day after Dolly Parton passed away, the generator gave me Coat of Many Colors. It was also album #20 for me and, somehow, the first female-led album I've received.
What immediately stood out was Dolly's storytelling.
I already knew the title track, but listening to it in the context of the entire album made me appreciate it even more. Her family may have been poor financially, but that coat made from scraps was priceless to her because of the love her mother put into it. There's an abundance mindset at the heart of that story: being rich isn't always about money.
That storytelling continues throughout the album. Even when the music wasn't grabbing me, I wanted to hear where the stories were going.
Musically, that's probably my biggest criticism. Several of the songs have a very similar traditional country sound, and parts of the album started to blend together for me. “The Way I See You” and especially “Here I Am” brought some welcome musical depth later in the album and became highlights.
Then came the closing track, “A Better Place to Live.”
Written more than 50 years ago, its message about compassion, understanding, and making the world a better place feels like something people still desperately need to hear today. And listening to it the day after Dolly's death gave it another layer. Compassion and generosity weren't simply things she sang about. They became part of what she was known for throughout her life.
At only 25 years old, Dolly already seemed to understand exactly what mattered to her.
This wasn't my introduction to Dolly. I already knew “Coat of Many Colors,” and back in the Navy I worked with a guy who played her greatest hits all the time. But I'd never actually sat down and listened to one of her albums from beginning to end.
Decades later, the random generator finally gave me one.
The day after she died.
I couldn't have picked a more fitting album if I'd chosen it myself.
Vinyl Verdict: BUY. 🧥❤️
When this album came out, I hated grunge. I had just gotten out of the Navy and was a full-time college student, and grunge felt like the music that was pushing the stuff I loved out of the way. More than 30 years later, I've developed an appreciation for it, and strangely enough, that early-'90s sound has become nostalgic for me. It takes me right back to my college years.
And there's a lot I like about Alice in Chains. The guitar work is great, Layne Staley has a distinctive voice, and the harmonies are probably my favorite part of their sound. “Them Bones” sounded familiar and immediately grabbed me, “Dam That River” rocked, and “Rooster,” which I remembered well from the time, was easily my favorite.
But somewhere in the middle of Dirt, I started zoning out. I completely missed “Junkhead,” and by the title track, everything was beginning to blend together. The dark, heavy sound works for me in individual songs, but over nearly an hour there wasn't enough variation to keep me engaged. “Angry Chair” woke me back up toward the end, and “Would?” was a good closer that seemed to pack all of Alice in Chains' signature elements into one song.
The funny thing is that I could complain that too many of these songs sound alike, yet I'll happily listen to an AC/DC album where nobody has ever accused the band of reinventing themselves between tracks. Maybe the difference is that those albums tend to get in, rock, and get out.
I came away appreciating Alice in Chains much more than I would have in 1992. There are several songs here I'd gladly listen to again. I just don't need almost an hour of Dirt at once.
Vinyl verdict: No buy.
This one was a struggle from the opening track. “Krautrock” didn’t sound like rock to me at all. It sounded like I was standing in NYC listening to traffic, except at least in NYC you get some swearing and screaming to break things up.
“The Sad Skinhead” was slightly better, although my immediate reaction was that it sounded like a mashup of reggae and “Monster Mash.” “Jennifer” finally resembled an actual song, but by then the bar was buried underground.
I have nothing against experimental music when it takes me somewhere. I loved Kraftwerk’s Autobahn. This just didn’t connect with me at all, and the rest of the album was more of the same.
This was a waste of my time.
This was a solid, enjoyable album that never really threatened to become anything more or less than three stars for me.
The first couple of songs caught my attention with a sound that reminded me of ’60s folk, and I especially enjoyed the album whenever it leaned into its Mexican and Southwestern influences. “Across the Wire” was a highlight for that reason.
There’s certainly plenty of variety here. Folk, indie rock, Mexican influences, jazz, and several short instrumentals all make appearances, so it never falls into the trap of every song sounding the same. Some of the instrumentals worked better for me than others, though, and there were stretches where the album became more background music than something I was actively listening to.
In fact, this feels like the perfect album to put on while you’re having dinner. It’s pleasant, interesting enough, and unlikely to interrupt the conversation.
The funniest moment came near the end when I actually started dozing off during a song called “No Doze.” Sometimes the review writes itself.
I enjoyed Feast of Wire, but nothing here made me feel like I needed to own it. A perfectly respectable listen that lands right down the middle for me.
I grew up with Metallica, and this, Master of Puppets, and the Black Album have always been my favorites. So there was definitely some nostalgia and bias going into this one. But what surprised me was how differently I heard ...And Justice for All now.
As a teenager, I was mostly headbanging to the music. Now I'm paying much more attention to what Metallica was actually saying. Songs like “Blackened,” the title track, and “Eye of the Beholder” tackle environmental destruction, corruption, justice, freedom, and people in power. More than 35 years later, a lot of those messages are still frustratingly relevant.
And the anger in the music makes sense. These aren't angry songs just for the sake of being loud and heavy. The anger is part of the message.
I can also admit that familiarity plays a role here. If I were hearing Metallica for the first time, I might complain that some of these songs sound too similar. But I know this music, and I still love the guitar work, especially moments like the solo in “The Frayed Ends of Sanity.”
“One” remains the highlight for me and one of Metallica's greatest songs.
The biggest takeaway from revisiting this album is how differently its messages hit me now. I understood as a teenager that Metallica had something to say. But after decades of lived experience, I understand and feel that anger on another level, especially because so many of the issues they were writing about in 1988 are still with us. The album hasn't changed. I have, while unfortunately, some of the world hasn't changed nearly enough.
This might be the easiest five stars I've given so far.
Hotel California is the first album I've gotten in this project that I already own a physical copy of, so there wasn't much mystery about where this was going. I've been listening to these songs for years, and the album is every bit as great as I remembered.
Obviously, the title track is a classic, and "Life in the Fast Lane" has always been one of my favorite Eagles songs. But "The Last Resort" might be the song that puts this album over the top for me. It's long been one of my favorite Eagles songs, period. The storytelling, the build, and the message about greed, expansion, and what we destroy in the name of progress still hit just as hard today.
That's probably what impressed me most listening to the album again from beginning to end. Familiarity didn't hurt it at all. There were no surprises or discoveries needed to convince me. I knew these songs, I knew I loved them, and hearing the whole album again only reinforced why.
Sometimes an album earns five stars by completely surprising me. This one earned five stars by reminding me that I was right about it all along.
This one came with a heavy dose of nostalgia for me. I already knew several songs, including “Hard Times,” “Rock Box,” “Jam-Master Jay,” “Sucker M.C.’s,” and “It’s Like That,” and I still enjoyed all of them.
Musically, a lot of the album does have the same stripped-down sound throughout. Run and DMC trade lines back and forth over relatively simple beats, and if I were hearing this style for the first time today, I might think some of it sounded repetitive. But nostalgia definitely works in its favor. More importantly, this is a lyric-focused album, and that's where the variety comes from. One song might be Run and DMC talking about themselves and where they came from, while another tackles social issues and everyday struggles.
“Sucker M.C.’s” particularly stood out because they move away from constantly alternating lines and give us more of their individual backgrounds. “Rock Box” is the biggest musical change of pace, bringing electric guitar into the mix and hinting at the rock/rap combination Run-D.M.C. would become famous for.
And I still love “Jam-Master Jay.” Knowing that Jam Master Jay wasn't even featured on the front cover of the album makes hearing Run and DMC devote an entire song to him even more meaningful. RIP Jam Master Jay.
This album is unmistakably from another era of hip-hop, but that's part of what I enjoyed about it. It's simple, direct, lyric-driven, and doesn't overstay its welcome. For me, this wasn't just an important album historically. It was a really fun trip back to the early days of hip-hop.
This album landed pretty much in the middle for me. The first couple of songs were fine, including the familiar “Pyramid Song,” but nothing really grabbed me. Early on, I thought this would make good background music in a coffee house, and that feeling stuck with me through most of the album.
When Radiohead got more experimental, I could appreciate what they were trying to do without necessarily enjoying it. “Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors” was interesting but definitely not my thing, and “Like Spinning Plates” sounded like somebody was playing the record backwards. I get the creativity behind it. I just don't need to listen to it again.
“I Might Be Wrong” was my favorite discovery, especially because of the guitar, and I didn't mind “Knives Out.” The vocals on “Morning Bell/Amnesiac,” on the other hand, annoyed me for some reason.
The biggest surprise came at the very end with “Life in a Glasshouse.” I loved the New Orleans feel of the horns and thought it was a cool way to finish the album.
Overall, I appreciate the experimentation and musicianship more than I actually enjoyed the album. Nothing here was terrible, but there also wasn't enough that made me want to come back for another listen. Good coffee-house background music, but not something I need in my collection.
Going into this one, I wondered how much decades of overplay would affect my opinion. I already knew most of the big songs, and Lynyrd is one of those bands I've heard not only on classic rock radio countless times, but from local cover bands over the years. "Gimme Three Steps" in particular has been played to death for me.
The guitar work is easily my favorite part of the album. Even when a song wasn't doing much for me, I usually found something to appreciate in the playing. "Things Goin' On" was new to me and had a cool honky-tonk feel that changed things up a little, while "Mississippi Kid" didn't work for me at all. "Poison Whiskey" was another one where I enjoyed the music more than the song itself.
I've also moved away from Southern rock over the years, and I think that affected this listen. There's nothing necessarily wrong with songs like "Tuesday's Gone" or "Gimme Three Steps." I've just heard them enough that they don't have much impact on me anymore.
Then came "Free Bird."
Funny enough, after spending some time away from it, I really enjoyed hearing it again. The slow build into that incredible guitar-driven second half reminded me why the song became such a monster in the first place. Despite being one of the most overplayed classic rock songs ever, it was easily my favorite song on the album.
I can absolutely understand why this album is considered a classic, and the musicianship deserves the praise. But as an album I'd personally want to return to regularly, it lands closer to the middle for me.
This may be the biggest surprise of the project so far.
Going in, I knew Terence Trent D'Arby mostly from “Wishing Well” and “Sign Your Name.” I always liked “Wishing Well” more, but in 1987 I was much more interested in Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, and Whitesnake. I never gave the rest of this album a chance.
I had no idea what I was missing.
From the opening track, “If You All Get to Heaven,” I was hooked. Sananda Maitreya's voice sounds almost effortless, and the album moves through soul, R&B, funk, pop, and rock without ever feeling all over the place. “Dance Little Sister” is incredibly funky, “Let's Go Forward” is beautiful, and the rhythms on “Rain” reminded me of Paul Simon's Graceland.
Then came “As Yet Untitled,” an a cappella track that is absolutely haunting. By that point, I realized I couldn't even pick a favorite discovery. There were basically two categories: the two songs I already knew and everything else.
Most importantly, there isn't a weak or skippable track here. Every song brings something different, yet his voice ties the whole album together. The album never lost momentum because I genuinely wanted to hear what he was going to do next.
This project is at its best when it introduces me to something completely unexpected. In this case, it reintroduced me to an artist I thought I knew and made me realize I barely knew him at all. Now I'm looking forward to exploring Sananda Maitreya's extensive catalog and hearing where his music went from here.
An easy five stars and an easy buy. This one is going into the collection.
I can appreciate why this album is considered ahead of its time. Some of the electronic sounds are remarkable for 1968, and if I didn't know the year, I could easily imagine a modern band making something like this while deliberately going for a late-'60s psychedelic vibe.
But experimental doesn't automatically mean good. The Beatles were incredibly experimental too, but usually remembered that there was supposed to be a song underneath all the experimentation.
That's where this album was split for me. The first half was about a 2-star experience. I respected what they were doing more than I actually enjoyed it. Then something happened in the second half: they started leaning more into psychedelic rock and pop with recognizable song structures, and suddenly I was enjoying myself. “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” “Coming Down,” “Where Is Yesterday,” and “The American Way of Love” all worked much better for me.
If the entire album had been like that second half, this would have been an easy 3 stars.
Instead, it's a fascinating album that I appreciate historically more than I enjoy musically. Still, it finished much stronger than it started.
I went into Debut knowing almost nothing about Björk beyond the infamous swan dress, and the beginning of this album completely surprised me. “Human Behaviour” grabbed me immediately, and that voice! She can go from delicate to absolutely belting out a note in an instant.
I also loved how the early songs jumped between styles while Björk’s voice somehow fit every one of them. The house/dance rhythms especially worked for me, with “Crying” and “Big Time Sensuality” bringing back memories of that early-’90s C+C Music Factory/CeCe Peniston sound.
Unfortunately, the second half couldn't maintain that momentum. “One Day,” “Aeroplane,” and “Come to Me” started losing me. By “Aeroplane,” my listening notes basically became: MAYDAY! MAYDAY! SWAN AIR IS LOSING ALTITUDE! 🦢✈️
“Violently Happy” brought the rhythm back and briefly rescued things, but then “The Anchor Song” sounded like elementary school students learning to play their instruments.
So this was a strange one: a glorious beginning, a rough second half, and a 3-star album overall. But I came away with something more important than the rating. I discovered that I really like Björk’s voice and definitely want to hear more of her music.
This was a really solid album from beginning to end. The lyrics are relentlessly dark and sometimes difficult, especially knowing the struggles Richey Edwards was going through at the time, but musically I enjoyed every song. There wasn't a dud on the album.
What surprised me most was how much I could hear sounds that would become prominent later. At different points I heard punk, emo, alternative rock, and even hints of the pop-punk sound I loved in the early 2000s. The changing tempos and styles kept the album from ever lulling me, and James Dean Bradfield's voice was a big plus throughout.
"Archives of Pain" was probably my favorite discovery, with "P.C.P." right there with it. "P.C.P." was a great way to end the album, with a slightly rawer sound that even gave me flashes of very early Queen. I also really enjoyed "This Is Yesterday," which reminded me of a smoother version of the Smashing Pumpkins' "1979."
I wasn't completely blown away by any one song, but I liked everything I heard. With no duds, plenty of musical variety, and a sound that often seemed ahead of its time, The Holy Bible was a very worthwhile discovery.
I went into this already very familiar with “American Idiot,” “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” and “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” and all three still sound great more than 20 years later. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard the full album before, but it never really stuck with me. It definitely did this time.
There isn’t a weak song here. I love the music, the storytelling, and the message, which still feels remarkably relevant today. The album plays almost like a Broadway show, with “Jesus of Suburbia” introducing the main character and the story continuing through the rest of the record. Even the nine-minute songs never feel long because they move through different sections and musical ideas.
The deeper I got into the album, the harder it became to pick a favorite discovery because I loved them all. “Are We the Waiting,” “St. Jimmy,” “Extraordinary Girl,” “Letterbomb,” “Homecoming”...every song brings something to the story while keeping the album moving.
Twenty-two years later, this one absolutely holds up. No duds, no filler, and definitely one I want in my vinyl collection.
Tigermilk was an album I appreciated more than I loved. The songs are pleasant, melodic, and easy to listen to, but after the first few tracks, the similar vocal delivery started making everything blend together for me.
There were enough changes to keep things interesting. “You’re Just a Baby” stood out, “Electronic Renaissance” offered a welcome change of sound, and “I Don’t Love Anyone” picked up the pace toward the end. Still, I kept coming back to the same thought: I’d probably enjoy these songs more sprinkled throughout a mixed playlist than listening to the entire album at once.
Good coffee shop music. I’d happily listen if it were playing, but I’m probably not choosing it myself.
Prince has been part of my musical DNA for most of my life. In fact, “Little Red Corvette” was the very first music video I ever saw on MTV. Years later, when I launched my first podcast, Return to the ’80s, our second episode was supposed to cover Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Prince died the week we were recording, so we changed plans and dedicated the episode to him instead.
I never owned 1999, although I’m pretty sure I’ve listened to the entire album before. The opening stretch was extremely familiar. “1999,” “Little Red Corvette,” and “Delirious” are part of my DNA, and I already knew “Let’s Pretend We’re Married” too.
“D.M.S.R.” is a great funky track. Despite its length, it never bothered me because the groove needs room to breathe. “Automatic,” on the other hand, felt longer than it needed to be.
The middle of the album didn’t knock my socks off, but it picked back up toward the end. “Free” was really good, and “Lady Cab Driver” reminded me of the funkier sound of Prince’s earlier albums. The remaining tracks were good, but nothing that pushed the album into another gear for me.
There’s a lot to like here, and the highs are extremely high. But as a complete album, I don’t love it nearly as much as the Prince album that followed it, Purple Rain. That one is an easy five stars for me, and I already own it on vinyl.
Favorite Familiar: Little Red Corvette
Favorite Discovery: Free
Vinyl Verdict: NO BUY
