This album is so sleek—so vibey—that it almost makes me tolerate French people as a concept. While listening to it, I googled if it inspired Radiohead’s Kid A, which should tell you how much I enjoyed it. (Ironically, Air was actually inspired by OK Computer.) It turns out that this is just from a genre Kid A draws from, called “downtempo.” And it turns out that I love downtempo.
Moon Safari is a ridiculously perfect album title: shiny and futuristic—exploratory and a little wild. While its influences are definitely worn on its sleeve, it doesn’t matter because the songs are fantastically composed, and generous heapings of fresh ideas are mixed in. Listening to it feels like being in a movie, which makes sense as Air went on to score a ton of movies. I would also recommend checking out the two music videos that went along with this album. The one for “Sexy Boy” is hilarious and surprisingly good social commentary, and the one for “All I Need” (haha, more Radiohead) is just really sweet.
If you’re ever preparing for a job interview and want to feel more confidently professional, listen to this album. If you’re ever in a doctor’s office on acid, listen to this album. If you’re studying and need good background music, listen to this album. If you’re Ben Stiller and want good music for the Severance soundtrack, listen to this album, and tell everyone I recommended it to you because I’m awesome.
Do you have any idea what it’s like, having nobody who knows? You’re walking down the street, plastering a smile on your face, waving to your boring neighbors, watching identical whitewashed houses pass by you in a blur. And you think to yourself, with great sorrow, "not one of these people knows I’m listening to 'The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill.'"
Hell, I doubt they even know that the walrus was Paul…
This is probably the Beatles album from their peak years that I listen to the least; it’s ridiculously long, and there’s a lot of clunkers. Most of it is just sonic noodling. That said, it’s sonic noodling from John, Paul, George, and Ringo. It’s like watching Van Gogh finger paint.
The length of it also adds to the general spirit of experimentation and eclecticness—the plain white album cover a blank slate from which their evolving sound could flourish without being pigeonholed. I mean, what is one to do after more or less inventing the concept album, except to take a hard left and release what is essentially the exact opposite? It reminds me of how Ian MacKaye pioneered both hardcore and post-hardcore; you have to break your own rules as an artist to evolve.
That said, outside of the collage-like, eclectic album format, there are just some truly amazing songs. “Back in The USSR” is a personal favorite of mine, with its hilarious political satire. “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” is, despite being the “Shiny Happy People” of the 60s, a super fun pop tune with a great melody. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is one of the most beautiful songs the Beatles ever wrote. “Happiness Is A Warm Gun” is amazingly multi-faceted and has some fantastic vocals. “Blackbird” is the perfect tender tearjerker. “Birthday” is perhaps the most fun Beatles song out there. “Helter Skelter” is not only a banger, but it also pioneered a whole genre. “Revolution 9” is an excellent sound collage.
There is, by a conservative estimate, a dozen different genres represented on this album—some of which were still in their infancy during 1968. It truly represents a spirit of artistic exploration. The oscillation between these fleshed-out, beautiful ballads, snippets of half-formed ideas, and light-hearted self-indulgence almost makes you feel like you’re in the studio with them. If their previous albums pioneered the concept of the album, this pioneered the concept of the band: a vehicle whose purpose is the journey rather than the destination. Much of popular music today wouldn’t be the way it is if it weren’t for the Beatles deciding to make all these weird, experimental songs and throw them to the wind. Once more, they prove themselves to be the greatest band of all time.
My “I never cared for The Godfather” moment is that I hate “Dancing Queen.” I don’t think it’s all that catchy or fun. It’s weird that she’s “only seventeen.” It sounds like a dance song made by somebody who’s never had any fun dancing. I’ve never even had it stuck in my head before.
That said, I don’t think “Dancing Queen” is a bad song, because it’s a pop song known by 99% of the population. If the whole world sings along, and it brings people together to have fun, then it has achieved The Ultimate Goal. Nothing else matters.
The Visitors answers the question of: what would ABBA be without that fun?
I can excuse war crimes if they come with a good synth hook, which is why I initially thought I’d like this. The opening two tracks have amazing synth hooks. “The Visitors” has one of the best drops I’ve ever heard. And “Head Over Heels” is even better, with the anxious choir vocals and dark cabaret feel.
And then everything starts to…blur. It slows down a lot. “Soldier” was an attempt at a serious political song, I think. At least it’s catchy. Then the vocal harmonies start to grate. Sure, they’re complex and objectively interesting, but like I said before: nothing else matters. A song can throw in crazy time signatures or godlike guitar shredding or a singer hitting notes in the super-whistle range and still be boring. It also doesn’t help that I’ve always found both Agnetha Faltskog and Anni-Frid Lyngstad’s voices rather stale (for some reason my computer isn't letting me type the accent mark onto the former's name.)
So when ABBA aren’t catchy and fun and iconic, the cracks start to show. The lyrics are weak—much too weak for these dramatic ballads they’re attempting. While the production does have its excellent moments, such as in the bass lines of “Soldier” and “One of Us,” or the ticking clock and light arpeggios of “Like An Angel Passing Through My Room,” it can also be dated and generic. What’s with the random guitar noodling, with that awful tin-can tone that’s trying so hard to be dramatic rock n’ roll? (Somewhat unrelated, but the first three notes of “Two For the Price of One” sound almost exactly like the “Sweet Child O’ Mine” riff, and I jumped when I heard it.) The arrangements feel empty. I wish they had leaned farther into the aggressive synth and Broadway-esque aspects. If ABBA wants to be serious, they need to be serious in the way a musical is serious. The first two songs and the rest of the album feel like completely different entities. It’s like going to a restaurant and eating the best appetizer you’ve ever had, only to have your main course be a bland nothingburger.
I’d say the three really good songs on this album are “The Visitors,” “Head Over Heels,” and “Like An Angel Passing Through My Room.” Then “Soldier” is memorable and pretty okay. The rest is…I don’t even remember. I listened to this record three times—including twice in the past hour and a half—and I don’t remember a thing except those god-awful vocal harmonies.
I’m allegedly distantly related to this guy who punched Sinatra in the face, and I can say I’m not too upset about that. If I ever doubt the Beatles' impact on music, I will listen to this album to remind me of what a dark time it was before them (for pop, that is.) This is just the same song repeated fifteen times. Every songwriting choice is blander than the last, and the only salvaging factor is that Sinatra has a good voice. I’ve never been so utterly disinterested in an album before.
Bakithi Kumalo deserves a Nobel Prize for that fretless bass. And he and accordion player Forere Motloheloa (RIP) should both be appointed as Supreme Rulers of the Universe for their performance on “Boy In The Bubble.” God, the grooves. This whole album bounces and skips in refreshingly relentless major key (with the exception of “That Was Your Mother,” which is coincidentally the weakest song on the album.) Paul Simon’s typically sardonic lyricism really shines beneath all the syncopated rhythms and rich, celebratory instrumentation: just melancholy enough to be meaningful, but not enough so to diminish the danceability and excellent hooks. My biggest critique is that Simon’s vocals are quite thin and feel as if they ‘re attempting to build up to something they just can’t quite get to, particularly on “Call Me Al.” All the other amazing elements make up for this, however, and I'll definitely be checking out more of Paul Simon's other solo albums, as well as the work of the South African musicians he collaborated with here.
There’s nothing smart I can say about this. I know how to play my triads on guitar, and I can show you a handful of scales—hell, I can even string together some shoegaze chords—but there’s nothing interesting I can say about A Love Supreme. I do love jazz, but jazz doesn’t love me. I can understand things about it that other people tell me, such as it bridging the gap between modal and free jazz, as well as it mirroring the structure of a Black church service and having a bassline that “says” “a love supreme”—but I can’t figure them out on my own.
That said, I can look at the cultural impact, as well as the emotions it evokes. This thing feels like it’s trying to expel a demon. It feels like letting go. And a lot of people felt the same, as it was a huge inspiration for those in the Civil Rights movement, and it went on to inspire anyone and everyone looking to push boundaries with their music. It's music that makes you get up and take action.
There is not a note wasted in the 33 minutes, yet despite its high-concept polish, it’s pure catharsis. This may not be art at its rawest, but it’s art at its purest.
This one’s heartbreaking. Because, to be completely clear: there is amazing potential here for Dennis Wilson. Fantastic melodies—soaring harmonies—absolutely stunning production; if he had lived long enough to release Bambu, and whatever projects could’ve followed that, he might be remembered as having one of the best solo careers in classic rock. Instead, he fell into substance abuse, died young, and is only really remembered because of Charles Manson of all people.
Dennis Wilson was the only Beach Boy who knew how to surf, and his connection to the ocean is pretty clear in this. It’s a motif that appears in practically every song—especially the opening track, “River Song,” which is a near-out-of-body experience. Even when the ocean doesn’t appear in the lyrics, it’s present sonically, with drifting strings and mellow percussion.
The sonic landscape is the strongest thing about this album. It was actually pretty ahead of its time in terms of production, and manages not to feel dated (with the exception of the title track.) While one of the biggest issues I have with this album is its haphazard flow, the production salvages it from feelings of incohesiveness.
The biggest weakness of the album, however, is its lyrics. While not exceptionally awful, they are very cliched. For example: “Like the sunshine, love comes and goes again.” I could get that kind of lyricism from anybody. That said, every other aspect of the songs are often good enough to make up for it. The song that lyric comes from—”Thoughts of You”—is actually one of my favorites because of its perfect build and vocal performance.
Also, half of this album doesn’t really stand out in any way, which is a big point against it. While the highs are exceedingly high, there’s a whole lot of “meh.”
But dear lord, the highs are so high.
I’d recommend checking out “River Song,” “Thoughts of You,” “Time,” “Pacific Ocean Blues” (if you can tolerate its datedness), and “Rainbows” as some exceedingly fantastic and underrated classic rock/pop, and the rest if you’re into the Beach Boys or 70s soft rock.
(Also, “Rainbows” was used in Project Hail Mary, which is super cool.)
I wish that I had gotten this album to review before Dolly Parton’s death, because I don’t want it to seem like I’m praising this so highly just because she’s passed. That’s definitely not the case. This is easily one of the best country albums of all time: a succinct 28 minutes, with amazing storytelling and lively instrumentation. The title track, of course, is a contender for best country song of all time—full stop. It’s a truly fantastic and interesting take on love and poverty, with a unique and layered Biblical reference. While none of the other songs are quite as good as the title track, they’re all still excellent. “Traveling Man” and “Early Morning Breeze” have great basslines. “My Blue Tears” has a good brisk, driving back beat. “Here I Am” features gospel-like vocal harmonies. “A Better Place to Live” practically glows with positivity. My biggest critique is that the songs all sound very similar, and use very similar poetic meters, but that’s to be expected from a traditional country album—especially one from a singles-oriented artist. All around, it’s an excellent listen, and a landmark release in its genre. I can't recommend it enough.
RIP Dolly Parton.
I’d like to start this by saying that I am the last person this album was made for. I am a Gen Z female. I listen to Slint, Slowdive, and Radiohead. The closest I get to arena rock is My Chemical Romance. That said, I actually really love Van Halen’s debut. Just an explosion of energy and fun. I also do play guitar, and while I think this brand of guitar solos are All The Egotistical Bad Things blah blah blah, I actually like Eddie Van Halen’s solos. He has enough skill to back them up—unlike all the EVH clones that swarmed the 80s with too much gain and the sloppiest, most cliched shredding you’ve ever heard. I also respect the Frankenstrat, of course.
And I continue to appreciate a lot of things here that I appreciated about their debut. For one, it’s short—thirty-three minutes long, which is exactly the length a Van Halen album should be (a fact that they forgot about while making Van Halen III…) It also has some fantastic vocals from David Lee Roth, who continues to be one of the most energetic and exciting vocalists in all of hard rock. And, of course, EVH adds some awesome guitar work—but that’s a given. “Top Jimmy” has some of my favorite EVH guitar work, because I am a sucker for harmonics and weird tunings. I don’t even mind the synths that much. My weakness is 80s synth hooks, so I’m not mad at all. The album’s opener and title track has some excellent synth work, and so does “Jump.” That said, it’s always bothered me how the synth hook on “Jump” switches up almost a full octave after a couple repeats. It’s just ear-bleedingly high-pitched and throws the song off.
Sadly, there are a lot of downsides. For one, “Panama” sounds like it was tailor-made for a car commercial. It would probably be my least favorite of their superhits, if it weren’t for the third superhit from this album, “Hot For Teacher,” which is more of a skit than anything. No big sing-along chorus or earworm at all. Honestly, it sailed its way to icon status off of shock value and teenage fanboys more than anything. And “Drop Dead Legs” is just…ugh. When Van Halen does innuendos, it’s fun at a party. But when they go completely on-the-nose? Then it’s just gross. Then there’s “I’ll Wait,” which has a boring melody and some awful lyrics—even by Van Halen standards. That said, it’s salvaged from being awful with some interesting synth and guitar work.
“Girl Gone Bad” also has some awful lyrics, but I care a lot less because I could listen to EVH playing harmonics all day. It also has that fun part where everything gets really quiet, and the drums click away over a guitar solo that sounds like a broken car engine slowly roaring back to life.
Also, what’s with the mixing? The vocals are buried under the guitar and sound like they’re coming from a completely different room. I get that Roth’s lyrics probably aren’t something you want attention called to, but his powerful voice most certainly is.
What’s great about Van Halen is that they go all out in all the fun ways. This just goes all out in all the wrong ways while staying reserved when it shouldn’t. 80s hard rock cheese is fine and all, but dear lord, it was a genre Van Halen invented. 1984 just feels like it’s them falling into line with every other mediocre chart-topping band of the time.
“Jump” is a classic, of course. I’d even go to bat for “Hot For Teacher,” now that it’s reached iconic status and there’s nothing we can do about it but sing along. But besides that, it’s just some interesting guitar work over commercial jingles. I’d only recommend this to people into arena rock or people really into guitar.
My general philosophy is to meet an album where it’s at. You can’t blame a dance album for being repetitive. You can’t judge the mixing on a punk album. You can’t expect a pop album about partying to discuss geopolitics.
Sadly, it’s difficult to meet this album where it’s at, because where it’s at is shrooms and LSD. Even though the band members were sober in its making, all their previous albums were rooted in their use of psychedelics, and primarily meant to listen to while on psychedelics, and that’s still the case here. And as much as I want to review things well, I will most definitely not be taking acid.
Luckily, there are some moments where you can sort of simulate the experience. If not through mind-altering drugs, then through some pleasant moments where the bright synths and playful lyrics feel crushingly joyful and cinematic.
I found those moments in these places:
-Listening to the album while putting make-up on before a party.
-Listening while half-asleep on the subway.
-Listening through my low-quality iPhone speaker while taking a hot shower.
-Listening while petting my dog.
-Listening at 3 am.
-Listening while drinking a cup of fancy cherry vanilla green tea and eating an ultra-buttery Sam’s Club croissant.
And yes, I listened to this thing probably 10+ times, because I kept getting interrupted while listening, or didn’t feel like I paid enough attention. It was kind of cursed in that way. Thankfully, I loved this album.
I have to note that I’m actually very frustrated about the overall reviews this album has on this website. Given the nature of the 1001 albums generator, I thought people here would be more open-minded, or at least willing to dislike stuff in a way that isn’t just “this is weird and complex! Ew!” Ultimately, I don’t care what your opinion on this album is, but most of these reviews just show an unwillingness to engage or listen critically. But I digress.
This album feels like childhood—running through heatwaves to reach the ice cream truck and jumping into lakes from a rope swing. The name of the album actually came from a music venue of the same name, which—not to dox myself—is pretty close to where I live, and I’ve been there for concerts. It’s honestly a great venue for the kind of feeling described in this album: it’s outdoors, with an open grassy area behind the rows of seats. It’s one of the few places nearby where you can get cheap tickets, as the grass tickets are genuinely cheaper than going to shows at bars now. There were $30 tickets to see the Beach Boys there, for example (though that might’ve been because nobody wants to get near Mike Love.) Families go and lay out picnic blankets, and it’s very festival-like. Lots of little kids, young couples, boxes of pizza, and beach balls. People bring the same fold-out chairs they do to little league baseball games. It has that suburban summer feel, which is very much the same thing this album encompasses.
The album can sometimes feel like something set out in the sun too long. An oozing strawberry. The sweet scent of moldy bread. Sucralose and Red 40. Not necessarily because there’s any sort of negative emotion introduced, but because of the nature of nostalgia and human memory. It’s either expired, artificially preserved, or made hazy in some way. This effect makes the songs all the more potent.
There’s a barely-contained joyousness as well. Lyrics like “I’m getting lost in your curls.” “Everything around seemed to giggle in glee.” “I want to walk around with you!” “There isn’t much that I feel I need.” The lyricism is sensual and diary-like. Its exact phrasing doesn’t always make sense, but it doesn’t really need to. It’s smudged out by the heatwaves.
The few moments of inner turmoil don’t feel all that sad, either. “Also Frightened,” for example, has a comforting quality that resolves its underlying anxiety when placed between “My Girls” (the best song on the album!) and “Summertime Clothes.” And the existential nature of “Taste” is made more curious than soul-crushing through the anecdote of laughing with a friend, as well as the friend saying he doesn’t want fancy clothes because “you can’t eat those.”
That’s another element of the album: rejection of the material world. The narrator doesn’t care about “material things,” and has only simple needs in the physical realm. Despite most of the talk about this regarding adult things, like wanting a house, it is rather childlike: content with happiness and the natural world. It adds to the psychedelic, detached feel of the album.
Sonically, it’s highly processed. There are countless layers of synth, and no guitar. The band ran everything separately through a PA system to replicate their live sound, which they then sampled, layered, and manipulated. The only acoustic instrumentation is drums, which were heavily processed after their initial recording.
The synths have a shimmer over them, and tend to float in the high-ends, soaked in reverb. The vocal melodies are simple, and border on monotone, and instead focus on rhythm and simply being catchy. It works, too. Normally, I don’t like when albums lean heavily on production above all else, but this is a case where it’s a clear artistic choice rather than a crutch.
If there was ever an album perfect for listening during the summer, it’s this one. It’ll make you feel like a dog sleeping under a beam of light: content, comforted, and perhaps a little bit lazy.
Wow, I just listened to Graceland, and was saying that I wanted to check out some of the featured artists on there! It’s cool that I got this one so soon after! I bet it’ll totally be available on the streaming platform I use, and I won’t have to find it on YouTube, where it’ll be interrupted by ads!
This one’s difficult for me to review, as it’s not a genre I’m very familiar with, and I don’t speak the language. That said, I can trust my own ears, and this thing sounds beautiful. Watching musicians work together to form a greater whole is just a beautiful thing—especially when they’re in a choir. The harmonies are fantastically composed, and it’s great a cappella in the sense where you don’t even notice there aren’t instruments unless you really think about it. In the few English passages, the lyrics are rich and vivid, and I assume that the songs written in Zulu have just as lovely lyrics—if not better by virtue of being in the singers’ primary language.
My favorite song is “Wausho Kubani,” because it sticks out for not being entirely a cappella, which makes it a fantastic choice for a closing track. I also love the call and response throughout, which adds a lively, almost interactive feeling to it.
Ultimately, this is a very beautiful project, and very relaxing to listen to. I’ll definitely be checking out more of their stuff in the future.
