Reviews by abrisskull

I've listened to 10cc here and there before, most notably with their worldwide hit "I'm Not in Love", which was featured in the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie. All four members of the group were multi-instrumentalists, singers, songwriters, and producers. They even had their own recording studio that they shared at the time with Paul McCartney and his brother Mike McGear, who had some influence on this record in particular. Sheet Music would go on to be the first of five consecutive top-ten UK albums for the band, which is probably the main reason why this ended up in the 1001 Albums series. Lest we forget, Robert Dimery and his team are British. With that all established, how does Sheet Music hold up decades later?

I will say, this is a very kooky record. It's very much in the lane of other 1970s pop rock acts of the time, but with enough avant-garde elements in the song arrangements and variety of instruments to keep these tracks relatively engaging. From the use of congas and timbales in the laid-back "Hotel", the combination of autoharp and slide guitar on the ethereal "Old Wild Men", the tingling grand piano keys on the increasingly frenetic build of "Clockwork Creep", and even tap-dancing heard in the background on "Somewhere in Hollywood", it's evident these gents were creative with their production and instrumental work. In addition, members Kevin Godley and Lol Creme utilized their own invention called the Gizmo, an effects device that made the strings vibrate to produce synthesizer-like sounds from guitar strings. Cuts like "Old Wild Men" and "Baron Samedi" used this device, and they sound otherworldly.

Adding to this strangeness were the lyrics, which often injected humor into various situations. From lampooning businessmen on "The Wall Street Shuffle" to the entertainment industry on "Somewhere in Hollywood", making fun of bands that are only in it for the money on "The Worst Band in the World", the anthropomorphizing of a ticking time bomb on a plane in "Clockwork Creep", the romantic clichés played out on "Silly Love", even coming up with a dance routine out of sitting down on "The Sacro-Iliac", they knew how to take the piss out of anything. Some of the humor went hard for the early 1970s, particularly with the aforementioned "Clockwork Creep" pre-9/11 and the sacrificial ritual in "Baron Samedi", but it was certainly entertaining and had me laugh a few times.

Much to my surprise, I genuinely enjoyed Sheet Music to the point where I am content with calling this album an underrated gem. I know there have been plenty of other pop-rock acts from the 1970s that I have already listened to on this album journey, such as Cheap Trick, T. Rex, and Slade. But 10cc had enough whimsy and musical chops to craft such fun and engaging tunes without taking themselves too seriously.

I will not include the CD bonus tracks in this review.

This will be the fourth album from my aunt's CD collection, and it's another big one. I'm familiar with George Michael, who established himself as one-half of the English pop duo Wham! before dissolving that group to pursue a solo career. If anything, he wanted to be taken more seriously, aiming to achieve the same level of success that Prince and Michael Jackson had seen in the mid-1980s. Was he able to accomplish this feat with his debut, Faith?

The answer would be a resounding yes. George still had a powerful vibrato delivery, and putting his voice over a then-contemporary pop-R&B record was a smart choice. The opening run of singles proved to be effective compositional works, from the jaunty title track to the gripping soul ballad of "One More Try". From there, the second half opens up with the bouncy electro-funk of "Hard Try" to the sophisti-pop whisper of "Hand to Mouth" with a rather glistening piano line as George provided some pretty remarkable social commentary for the time. That's the surprising find with this record, where, for as much as the lyrical content mostly involved the ins-and-outs of relationships, there were a few tracks that explore more varied subject matter, including the friend with a drug addiction on "Monkey", and even allusions to George's own homosexuality on "Kissing a Fool" and "Father Figure". Given he would open up about his sexuality over a decade later, it's amazing in hindsight how he got away with these lyrics early on.

Sonically, this album is amazing throughout, as George performed double-duty with the production and most of the keyboard work, giving the necessary sheen and flair to go toe-to-toe with what Prince had done. The rest of the session personnel did a superb job matching George's swaggerous energy across these tracks, all the way up to the lovely jazz piece "Kissing a Fool" to close out the record with class.

Honestly, I did not have any complaints with Faith, as the sort of record that launched George Michael into the stratosphere, farther than he'd gone up to this point.

I will not include the bonus tracks or second disc of the 30th anniversary edition for this review.

After listening to all the listed Beach Boys albums and Brian Wilson's Smile, it was about time I got the other notable solo release from a Beach Boys member. Brian's brother Dennis Wilson was the drummer for the Beach Boys, gaining prominence as a singer-songwriter for the group towards the end of the 1960s. In fact, it got to the point where Dennis began working on his own solo project, and after a few years, it came together in the form of Pacific Ocean Blue.

Now I will start by stating that Dennis had worked on his baritone voice to offer a more deeply soulful delivery, and I think it suited him well. He certainly put in the range alongside the variety of compositions, from the bombastic opening of "River Song" and "What's Wrong" into more delicate ballads like "Moonshine" and "Thoughts of You". I'd say on the whole, the session personnel did a superb job matching Dennis's performative strengths, particularly with some decent guitar playing from his brother and fellow Beach Boys member Carl Wilson. Not to mention the solid production and orchestral swell on tracks like "Time," which offer such a crisp slowburn.

Yet, I can't help but recognize that this was Dennis's solo debut, and as such, still has some trouble finding its footing. His lyrics, which delved into the rock star lifestyle and heartbreak, were presented from a genuine place. But the content was repetitive at times as the momentum of the record slowed down in the second half. Also, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I wasn't a fan of the swampy dirge of cuts like "Dreamer" and the title track, especially the former, with the phat bass harmonica pushed to the front of the mix that got pretty grating on my ears.

Still, I overall appreciated Pacific Ocean Blue, showcasing Dennis's talent separate from the Beach Boys. Unfortunately, Dennis would be hampered by alcohol abuse to the point where it cost him his life from drowning after drinking all day. I can only imagine what could have been had he sobered up and refined his songcraft.

For the sake of this review, to keep my bearings straight, I will be referring to the original 1991 UK release of this album. This is neither the North American release, which is loaded with radio edits, nor is it the 2021 Director's Cut release, which includes tracks from the unreleased 1989 album. With that out of the way...

The KLF, also known as the JAMs, the Timelords, and the Justified Ancients of Mu Mu, is a British electronic group primarily consisting of Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty, operating under the aliases "King Boy D" and "Rockman Rock" respectively. Both established figures in the music industry, they formed a hip-hop-inspired act that was very sample-heavy before going on to pioneer the genres of stadium house and ambient house. All the while, they were defining their own band mythology, taking influence from the situationist theory, to wit, the merit of critiquing capitalism through spectacle and public display. In that line of thinking, the pair wanted to create a road movie about their search for the mystical White Room that would enable them to be released from their contract with Eternity. Unfortunately, the film was never released due to budget constraints, but the soundtrack album was salvaged and reworked into its own self-contained work. With all that background established, how does The White Room hold up as an album?

Well, this is probably the closest I could get to being immersed in the British rave scene. The sample-heavy production, the blasting beats of the first half that give way to ambient drone in the second half, the variety of session vocalists that rap and sing over such a vast electronic palette, and even the occasional additional instruments like the pedal steel on "Build a Fire" and the tenor saxophone on "Make It Rain" made for such an eclectic listen. As for the lyrical content, this album is very much entrenched in the mythology that the KLF has created, including a rather cheeky nod to their recording studio, Trancentral, all the while keeping the good vibes going and offering a means to "liberate one's mind". It is absolutely cheesy and dated, should not be taken seriously, and is certainly not going to be everyone's cup of tea. Yet I enjoy the charisma and technical prowess that Bill and Jimmy employed throughout this record. They knew what they were doing with their artistic direction, and I have to applaud them for that.

As such, I consider The White Room to be an intriguing gem to come across that I suspect will grow on me. In true fashion with their artistic statements, the KLF would proceed to commit another public stunt to make their exit from the music business, only to return decades later as the Justified Ancients of Mu Mu. If anything, I have to admire how they have and continue to operate on their own terms.

I know I heard about Spiritualized within the past year. Founded by former Spacemen 3 singer-songwriter Jason Pierce, they're considered one of the most well-known groups in the space rock scene. That said, their debut record here, Lazer Guided Melodies, leans more toward shoegaze and dream pop, as Pierce and company utilized minimalist compositions with layered instrumentation, hazy sonic textures, and some string and horn incorporation to make for a cinematic soundscape. There's a serene, dazed-out nature with this album, as the guitar strumming and Pierce's soft-spoken delivery are thoroughly drenched in reverb. It certainly made for a peaceful listen.

Yet, the issue I'm finding with this record is that it was rather difficult to discern, let alone latch onto any specific hook or melody. Aside from some very obvious lyrical incorporation from a few classic rock songs on "Run" and a particular horn motif on "Shine a Light", tracks tended to go in one ear and out of the other for me. That's not to say it was a bad experience, but rather one that proved hard to remember, like waking up from a dream and scrambling to remember the details.

I certainly didn't mind listening to Lazer Guided Melodies, but I feel like the best of what Spiritualized had to offer is yet to come.

Let's get the one detail out of the way when discussing Solange that is gonna loom over. She is indeed the younger sister of Beyoncé. In fact, she started as a backup dancer for Destiny's Child before signing to their father's record label, and her first solo release was very much in line with the hip-hop-inspired R&B of the era her sister thrived in. But that's where the comparisons largely stop. Solange followed up with a more tasteful retro-throwback record and subsequent EP, and then this record won a ton of critical acclaim. So, what did we get with A Seat at the Table?

Well, this is the kind of record that I feel is going to work wonders in terms of the content more than the presentation. With that said, let's start with that content. If there's one aspect that remains true throughout the listen, Solange is direct in her social commentary, sprinkling in both well-spoken connecting interludes and some surprisingly poignant guest verses from Lil' Wayne on "Mad" and the team-up of BJ the Chicago Kid and The-Dream on "F.U.B.U.". That commentary in question being healing and self-empowerment, by black women, for black women, reclaiming an inner peace in spite of a world that would choose to ignore, erase, or marginalize them. Now, I have to admit that I'm not the intended audience - I'm a white guy, plain and simple. But that doesn't mean I can't respect and even appreciate the plight, especially with how straightforward and insightful Solange cuts into. From dealing with the frustration to explain herself to a friend on "Mad", to being done compromising herself to satisfy other people on "Don't You Wait" and "Don't Touch My Hair", to carving out her own path and choosing to leave people behind on "F.U.B.U.", the larger theme is Solange moving on, not caring if a white audience that may have loved her previous work won't get on board with this new direction. On the flip side, with cuts like "Junie" opposite and uncredited André 3000 about cultural appropriation, and her mother's spoken interlude "Tina Taught Me" about how black positivity is not the same as reverse racism, it's clear she's not against white culture enjoying or embracing her music... it's just that they're not going to be the focus anymore in her life. This album is very acute in its uncompromising position, probably the closest I could get to feeling how black audiences feel when culture ignores them entirely. I don't mind being on the outside looking in to try and understand.

Also helping matters is how much I like the production throughout this record - the sharper snares that crop up on "Rise" as Solange accepts her own vulnerability, the presence of cello on "Cranes in the Sky" as she searches for her escape, the sandy yet blocky beat on "Mad", the brash piano strokes against the kick beat on "Where Do We Go", the heavy presence of synths and supple bass on "Don't You Wait" that also show up on the funky "Junie" and the sharper electronic tinge of "Don't Wish Me Well". Even if I wasn't much into the wiry synth on "Don't Touch My Hair", it's still got a nice driving beat as Solange shared her cadence with Sampha.

But, this is where the presentation comes in, and I wish I could connect more. Solange herself has a very pleasant voice to listen to, yet I didn't feel as gripped by her as much as I'd like to be. It really feels like the content was the focus of this record more than any performance to help elevate or accentuate it. That problem also feeds into the pacing of this album. While it runs under an hour, it feels longer, between Master P's interludes in the second half that come off oddly juxtaposed to the more meditative pace of the surrounding tracks, and the penultimate "Scales" that ends things on an oddly downbeat note, even if I liked the interplay between Solange and Kelela.

Then again, it's possible the target audience for this record won't care about pacing or atmosphere, and that's fine. After all, Solange established on this record that she does not care what I or anyone else thinks about her musical direction, which, again, I liked for the most part. A Seat at the Table is the sort of thought-provoking, well-produced experience that can lead into a larger discussion. Even if I feel the album could be trimmed down for a more effective impact, that doesn't stop how poignant and forward-looking Solange has established herself.

It should be noted that this live bootleg was recorded at the Manchester Free Trade Hall during Bob Dylan's 1966 world tour, but was misattributed to the Royal Albert Hall for the longest time, hence the apostrophes around the venue name. The actual Royal Albert Hall concert has since been made available, but this record was chosen instead for the 1001 Albums series. With that tidbit out of the way...

I assume this bootleg is here to provide historical context for a phenomenon that has received more attention from the general public. With the release of the biopic film A Complete Unknown, more light has been shed on the time when Bob Dylan started recording and performing with electric instruments. As someone who was born decades after this period, it's hard to imagine a time when fans of folk music revolted against the very notion of an artist like Dylan flirting with rock. In that regard, this archived recording of his Manchester Free Trade Hall performance is probably the closest I could get to hearing an audience heckle and jeer at Dylan, accompanied by a full rock band in the second half.

I say second half, as the first half of this set saw Dylan play alone for a series of acoustic-only songs, followed by the "electric" set with backing band the Hawks, who would later be known as The Band. From a performative standpoint, Dylan and company played the songs off the electric trilogy pretty well, with a certain earnestness in the delivery. While I prefer the more rocking second half as they go off on the riffs amidst the raucous crowd, I accept that Dylan structured the set to likely ease his audience in, even if that ended up being a fruitless effort.

Also, if it is true that this album was included in the 1001 Albums series for historical context, then part of that context is missing here. A portion of the live performance has been removed, where an audience member calls Dylan "Judas", and his response was to tell the band to "play it fuckin' loud". The fact that this exchange has been edited out of the official release of this bootleg is a pretty bad look, as it was the defining moment of the whole controversy. A Complete Unknown references this moment, albeit recontextualized for a different performance, but at least they acknowledged it.

Regardless, this is still a solid performance from a rather poignant time for Dylan and his band, one that would prove to be a turning point for folk and rock music going forward.

This one's a bit of a deep cut. For those who don't know, The Auteurs were a 1990s British alternative rock band, fronted by singer-songwriter Luke Haines. For all intents and purposes, they are considered progenitors of the Britpop movement, and their debut record, New Wave, pretty much sounds like it.

The bright acoustic guitar textures, the catchy melodies, the obvious influence from 1960s British pop, Luke's accented vocals, all the elements that would become Britpop are right there. Luke would hate the association with the movement, but it's hard to deny the stylistic similarities. If that assessment sounds wrong, then at the very least, it is a very agreeable jangle pop experience. Even if it is evident that Luke's lyrics invoked more whimsical imagery than any lasting meaning, the riffs, arrangements, and solid rhythm section from Alice Readman and Glenn Collins kept the listening experience just engaging enough to carry through to the end.

I would consider New Wave to be a lost gem. It won't set the world on fire if you've heard a fair share of Britpop or jangle pop before, but it is a pleasant enough album to have on.

I know I've listened to Eels before. They're an alternative rock band with elements of trip hop in their sound, fronted by singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Mark Oliver Everett. Having established himself under the stage name E, Mark formed the band with drummer Jonathan "Butch" Norton and bassist Tommy Walter. They ended up being one of the first acts signed to the now-defunct DreamWorks Records, meaning there's a good chance you've heard them before in soundtracks for films like American Beauty and Shrek.

As for their debut record, Beautiful Freak is very much what it says on the tin, epitomized by the little girl with enlarged eyes on the album artwork. It's a quirky, weird slice of post-grunge with samples, pop-adjacent melodies, and the occasional noise, complete with Mark's fried vocal delivery as he sang about depression, loneliness, unrequited love, and other such emotional and mental complexities. It may seem a tad repetitive in the lyrical themes, but I consider Mark's words to come from a genuine place. I would say this is another debut record that shows potential in the songwriting and construction, but could use a little more refinement in the hooks and more standout moments from the band personnel.

I consider Beautiful Freak to be a weirdly pleasant album. I know that the band members will continue to rotate over the years, leaving Mark as the sole original member in the Eels lineup. But even if it's just Mark from here on out, he's shown enough passion and talent to do something great with his music.

AHNONI and the Johnsons are a chamber pop ensemble out of New York City, fronted by singer-songwriter AHNONI. If there was ever a throughline for this group that helps give it a bit more identity, it is transgender rights. After all, part of their name comes from trans and human rights activist Marsha P. Johnson, and AHNONI herself has transitioned, which is why I'm not going to deadname them or the group.

If anything, getting into the sound of I Am a Bird Now, AHNONI has this soulful vibrato delivery akin to Nina Simone and Billie Holiday, very much rooted in that sincere yet quietly powerful command behind the mic. Her lyrics provide insight into the mental process of transition, striving for one's happiness and self-worth against the perceptions society places on them. It's a sentiment that remains relevant in today's sociopolitical climate. It certainly helps to have some notable collaborators, such as the heartfelt duet with Boy George on "You Are My Sister", Rufus Wainwright taking lead on the elegant piano-driven interlude "What Can I Do?", and the spoken intro from Lou Reed that gives way to the low-key doo-wop swagger of "Fisftul of Love". That's not to mention the rich, organic instrumentation that pervades this record, elegant without overwhelming the vocal performance at the center.

I will admit I was not expecting such a profound record like this on my album journey. I Am a Bird Now showcases the kind of uncompromising strife to exist. It's not something I usually seek out, speaking as a straight heterosexual male. But I can't deny how well AHNONI and the Johnsons reigned it in.

There's a lot of pedigree to Joanna Newsom - singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, actress, and harpist. She's apparently known for a very idiosyncratic sound that is often labelled "progressive folk". Though after listening to her breakthrough record Ys, I feel that the categorization doesn't quite do justice to her.

This record consists of five sprawling, epic song compositions, rife with opulent orchestration and otherworldly poetic prose that feels inspired by English and Celtic fables. The instrumentation plays a key part in matching the dramatic swell of the writing, as Newsom sang in a manner that reminded me a bit of Björk with more warmth and roundness in her vocal timbre. It's wild that this was the material that got captured for this album, given the personnel Joanna had - noise rock veterans Steve Albini and Jim O'Rourke on the recording and mixing, and renowned producer Van Dyke Parks, who's worked with the likes of the Beach Boys, Randy Newman, and Harry Nilsson. I never thought these ornate, multi-phase arrangements would be in any of their wheelhouse.

And yet... I don't know, for some reason, I can't help but feel like Ys isn't fully clicking for me. For sure, this is a pleasant record to listen to, with a near-cinematic presentation, as Joanna utilized fantastical imagery to illustrate the strife to overcome. "Monkey and Bear" tells the story of unburdening oneself from physical trauma endured from a partner. "Sawdust and Diamonds" deals with the loss of a child and how to process the grief from such a tragedy. For a good chunk of this album, the image of "the river" serves as the source of all negative emotions that can overwhelm those drawn to it, with the in-narrative characters trying to avoid its lure. There's some self-healing going on through this record that Joanna certainly takes to task with more strident tones. I feel like this sort of messaging could have come across more effectively if the lyrics weren't so meandering with overindulgence in the pastoral imagery.

Still, I consider Ys to be a good record, showcasing Joanna Newsom as a rather creative force who can spin yarn into gold.

Last time I spoke about Serbian producer Suba, I mentioned how his final act in life was saving the recordings for this album from a studio fire. The third studio record from acclaimed Brazilian singer Bebel Gilberto, daughter of bossa nova pioneer João Gilberto and Brazilian singer Miúcha. Needless to say, there's a lot of pedigree going into this album.

Right off the bat, I have to give props to Bebel's sultry vocal delivery. She offered a mesmerizing performance as she ebbed and flowed between Portuguese and English lyrics of yearning emotions. Pairing her with Suba's downtempo meets bossa nova style of production was a good match. The organic instrumentation, the soft electronic loops, all these elements worked in unison for a very lush style. It felt like a natural continuation from São Paulo Confessions, while elevating a promising vocal talent.

Tanto Tempo was such an exquisite listen. It makes me wonder what could have been had Suba lived to continue working with Bebel. For now, I'll take solace in what we have.

Full disclosure - I've been a fan of Incubus for some time. I've seen them live back in 2018, and I own a copy of Morning View. While they tend to change up their style with each new record, there's always been this throughline of funk and hip-hop influence on alternative rock that I have come to appreciate, even if they have softened their edges a bit too much.

But let's not dwell on what Incubus has become; today, we have their breakthrough record, Make Yourself. After the funk-metal ventures of Fungus Among Us and S.C.I.E.N.C.E., the band opted for a more focused direction, with less zaniness and more ambience in the compositions. If anything, I'd say they found success with this approach. Brandon Boyd's soaring vocals, Mike Eizinger's funky yet spacious guitar work, and the tight rhythm section of Dirk Lance and Jose Pasillas come together for this ethereal yet hard-hitting sound, complete with profound introspective lyrics that detail the pursuit of one's freedom and happiness, while coming to terms with who they are. The songwriting came off rather potent for a lot of these songs, not just the singles.

Of course, I do have to address one member I haven't mentioned yet, DJ Chris Kilmore behind the turntables. I'll admit, I'm a bit more tolerant of record-scratching in my alternative rock, which is a persistent element throughout this album, adding character to their laid-back style without detracting from the overall bouncing grooves. In fact, the only aspects of the instrumental jam "Battlestar Scralatchtica" that I found cringeworthy were the song title and its placement between the hard-hitting "Clean" and the more affirming ballad "I Miss You". A slight rearrangement of the tracklist would have integrated this better, but that's the only nitpick I had.

Overall, Make Yourself was an excellent treat to have from a bygone era of alternative music. If anything, it still holds up in Incubus's catalog, as the band carved their own niche in the vast soundscape.

For those who don't know, Manu Chao is a French-Spanish musician who played in several groups, most notably the punk-infused Latin rock group Mano Negra. Unfortunately, that group broke up after years of strife and touring through war-torn Colombia, leaving Chao in a fragile state. He continued performing solo while battling restlessness and depression, albeit mentally wrung to the point of nearly taking his own life. That was until a chance encounter with a cow, whom he described as "tender", gave him a renewed sense of purpose, and Chao formally started recording a solo release.

The recording process was rather unconventional and driven by chance. Chao immersed himself in various locales such as Tijuana, Mexico, Spain, and Paris, with a portable recorder in tow and working alongside producer Renaud Letang. A technical glitch in Letang's computer inadvertently caused most of the electronic elements and drums to be stripped from the tracks, leaving behind a more acoustic, organic sound. Songs were chosen for the cut after being tested out on the children in Chao's neighborhood. Thus, Clandestino proved to be a unique and cathartic album for Chao, and if anything, I'm glad that he found a renewed sense of spirit that happened to be well-received across Europe and South America.

As for the music, this is a solid collection of reggae rock tunes with a melting pot of influences, including salsa, punk, and French chanson. I have to commend Chao and Letang for how they organized the tracks such that they seamlessly flow from one to the next, with Chao himself effortlessly switching his singing across Spanish, Portuguese, English, and French. Checking the translated lyrics, it is evident that Chao put his internal struggles on display while trying to find the brighter side of life as he gives an informal tour of the various locales he visited. Sure, the subject matter does come off rather repetitive across multiple songs that could easily blend into each other with little variance in song structure. But, there's enough conviction in the delivery and performance that I feel it's coming from a sincere place, and that is worth commending.

As such, I think Clandestino deserves to be celebrated as the cultural mixture of sounds it is. I'm glad that Manu Chao came out on the other side with a more positive outlook.

When covering Synchronicity as album #6 on my journey, I spoke about how The Police's short catalog is rather iconic. That sentiment does extend to Reggatta de Blanc as well. It's not often that a record starts with such an iconic track in "Message in a Bottle". In fact, I'd argue the first half is top-notch, from the largely instrumental title track, the energetic "It's Alright for You", the captivating acoustic guitar melody with the big kick beat of "Bring On the Night", and the sinister contemplation of "Deathwish" all sounded great and flowed well into each other.

This amazing run continues into the second half with one of my favorite tracks, "Walking on the Moon", with its sparse arrangement and simplistic bassline. I, weirdly enough, enjoyed the more spoken-word "On Any Other Day" with even more playful guitar riffing from Andy Summers. The heavily reggae-structured "The Bed's Too Big Without You" is another amazing tune that transforms the tragedy of Sting's suicidal ex-lover into a very grieving introspection.

Then things got weird towards the end. I didn't mind the questioning of a connection between two people on "Contact", even if the buzzing synth in the verses doesn't necessarily make for an engaging listen compared to the central hook. I was not prepared for the piano-driven showtune "Does Everyone Stare", which was certainly effective in expressing the prevailing sense of inadequacy and discomfort. Then the album closes with the ridiculously fast-paced "No Time This Time", ironically dealing with the frustrations of wanting to slow down and enjoy life. Lyrically, I can get down with this assortment of tracks, but sonically, there's a lack of cohesion between these three tracks that felt off-putting to me. Not to the same degree that "Mother" was a blight on Synchronicity, but still jarring enough that I noticed.

Which is a shame, because otherwise, I enjoyed Reggatta de Blanc. It continued the success The Police found with their debut, while showcasing a band looking to branch out and vary up their style.

I just started listening to Can within the past year. They were a German experimental rock band that blended elements of krautrock, psychedelia, funk, samba, musique concrète, and space rock. They employed many ambient elements, aiming for hazy soundscapes inspired by diverse ethnic backgrounds. Their fourth album, Future Days, tapped into that cultural zeitgeist.

Across three beefy tracks and one conventional song, the band was in a grooving pocket of ethereal textures. Jaki Liebezeit's polyrhythmic play alongside the soft electric guitar and bass lines maintained a level of engagement without being too overbearing in the mix. I liked the touches of organ and electric piano from Irmin Schmidt, tingling around certain passages to simulate the drifting atmosphere. Then there's Damo Suzuki's vocals, hypnotic and entrancing as he sprawled through lyrics of disillusionment and existential wonderment. All these elements harmonize into this minimalist yet expansive soundscape. Even with the more standard funk rock affair of "Moonshake", the incorporation of collected sound recordings and Suzuki's hazy delivery made for a rather otherworldly listen.

The more I thought about it, Future Days went down rather smoothly. Not a moment felt wasted or prolonged. I felt thoroughly engaged throughout the runtime, particularly in the several movements of "Bel Air", as the captured sound of wind flowed through my ears. I have no complaints; therefore, this record comes highly recommended.

I'm at least familiar enough with My Bloody Valentine to recognize them as one of the pioneering groups of the shoegaze genre. I recall listening to Loveless a couple of years ago, an often-considered landmark album, and I enjoyed it. Apparently, there was a lot of hype surrounding their follow-up, as the band recorded it on and off before their breakup in 1997, only to continue working on it after their reunion in 2006. m b v, for all intents and purposes, had been decades in the making. Was it worth the wait?

The answer is a yes, albeit with more tempered expectations. I wasn't looking to be blown away by this album, given the style My Bloody Valentine plays in. The thick, droning guitar textures, the hushed vocal delivery, the simplistic dreamscape imagery in the lyrics, and the overall laid-back, unintrusive rhythm section make for a sonic cushion that I can ease back into. It's amazing how many elements put to record over the years were woven together in a seamless haze.

That said, there are moments on this record where I felt like the band could have pushed a little further. There were a couple of interesting experimental choices made, such as the ambient piano piece "Is This and Yes", the fuzzy bass and punching drums of "New You", the sheer loudness of the instrumentation on "In Another Way", and the progressive build of the drum machine loop on "Nothing Is". But a part of me feels these ideas could have been developed a tad more, as songs tended to end before building to something potentially greater. Also, for as much as I do find Kevin Shields and Belinda Butcher to have very pleasant vocals, their presence here felt more innocuous in the mix. Granted, it's not like someone checks out My Bloody Valentine primarily for the vocals, but perhaps there could have been room for better integration of them.

Still, I consider m b v to be a pleasant enough record. It does feel like a natural continuation of where My Bloody Valentine left off after Loveless, which is certainly commendable for a group that had been inactive for some time.

Alright, this is up my alley. I've been a fan of Motörhead since the 2000s, when Lemmy Kilmister and his band were prominent in the music video games I played as a young teen. Which is why it pains me to say that at this point, all three members of the classic lineup have long passed away - Lemmy, Phil "Philthy Animal" Taylor, and "Fast" Eddie Clarke. Listening to Ace of Spades again feels like peering into a bygone era of heavy music. Sentiments aside, this album still kicks ass.

Credit where it's due to all the members - Lemmy's prominent bass lines and gruff vocals, Eddie's fast-paced guitar riffing, and Phil's kinetic drumwork. The band had always considered itself a rock and roll group, and boy, is this the kind of rock and roll I'm into. Pair that with the lyrics that describe the sleazy lifestyle of sex, drugs, and rock, with some Wild West motifs, and the result is a formula that worked well for the band. Even if some lyrics haven't aged well, particularly "Jailbait", it's not enough to deter me from enjoying this record.

Call it a bias toward "Fast and Loose" heavy music, but I enjoy Motörhead and am a proud owner of this album. The fact that Ace of Spades, title track and all, has maintained cultural relevance long after the band's end is a testament to an enduring legacy.

It's been a while since I listened to a Bruce Springsteen record on this journey, and, given the limelight on Nebraska with the recent biopic Deliver Me From Nowhere, I'm due to revisit that one. I bring that album up specifically because both it and Born in the U.S.A. were workshopped around the same time. Bruce opted to release Nebraska first as an artistic statement, and, after a break from touring, worked on the second album with the E Street Band.

Right out of the gate, the sonic tone on this one is starkly different from Nebraska. Prominent guitar riffs and snare drums, blaring synthesizers, simple chord progressions, and earwormy hooks; this record truly tapped into the zeitgeist of 1980s heartland rock. Sure, it's admittedly cheesy, but I can't help but be moved by these tunes. Bruce and company still knew how to reel people in with a good hook or two, while also incorporating a few minimalist ballads with "Downbound Train", "I'm on Fire", and "My Hometown".

Though just because there's more pop sensibility on display, this record is not lyrically toned down from Nebraska. If anything, Bruce continues to focus on working-class characters and their struggles. From the treatment of Vietnam War veterans on the title track, the maintenance of a romantic relationship amidst PTSD woes on "Cover Me", the runaway man who gets arrested and forced into labor on "Working on the Highway", the laid off worker whose wife left him on "Downbound Train", the uncontrollable lust on "I'm on Fire", the desire for friendship in "No Surrender" and "Bobby Jean", the ravaging of time as former high school colleagues face their demons on "Glory Days", and the failure of the American dream epitomized on "My Hometown", the imagery and themes that Bruce tapped into paint a darker side in trying to make a living in this country. All the while, there is still a desire for more, particularly captured in the upbeat "Dancing in the Dark" as Bruce vents out frustration with writing songs that please people.

I cannot deny how exceptional Born in the U.S.A. is as a record that has withstood the test of time. This was the album that launched the Boss into stardom and popularized American heartland rock, and it is justified in that legacy.

It was a matter of time before I got this album. The Wall is often considered the last hurrah of Pink Floyd's successful run through the 1970s, culminating in a film adaptation and Roger Waters's departure from the band. I've heard bits and pieces of this album here and there, but this will be my first full listen through. How does it hold up?

Let me start with the narrative of this record, because it is the foundation The Wall is proverbially built on. Drawing inspiration from his and Syd Barrett's lives spent in the band, along with the frustration experienced during the prior In the Flesh tour, Roger Waters embodied the character of Pink Floyd, an up-and-coming rock star who has a lot of baggage. The death of his father in World War II, his overprotective mother, his abusive schoolteachers, his wife who cheated on him as he cheated on her; all these traumas end up as bricks in "the wall" that ends up isolating Pink from human interaction and the outside world. Only after the completion of this wall does Pink begin to question himself and yearn for reconnection. As he starts to realize this, however, he is snapped out of it via drug injection from a paramedic, as Pink's manager wanted him out on stage for his performance. From there, Pink hallucinates that he is a dictator leading a Neo-Nazi rally, and proceeds to commit hate crimes on fans he considers unworthy. Once this hallucination ends, Pink begs for it all to stop and ends up placing himself on trial within his mind, against his own inner judge, who orders Pink to "tear down his wall" for his actions. This internal intervention is what opens Pink back to the outside world, except it's alluded to at the end that the cycle will begin anew and Pink will soon be back to putting up his wall again. To say this plot is a lot is an understatement, taking conceptual ideas from previous records and going for a more grandiose scale while managing to stay relevant in terms of exploring mental health problems that go unchecked. I'll admit, some portions of this narrative rang a bit too close to home for me; I'll spare y'all the details.

So the narrative is rather strong for this record, and, in spite of tensions in the recording and development, the band was still operating well in their performance, and Bob Ezrin went all-out on the production. What's stopping me from outright calling The Wall an exceptional album? Well, it is a rather daunting double-album, clocking in at 81 minutes, and it becomes clear that not every song works on an individual. Aside from those songs that continue to get regular FM radio airplay like "Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2" and "Comfortably Numb", the tender ballad "Goodbye Blue Sky", the opening number "In the Flesh", and its reprise in the final act, the rest don't work as well outside of the larger story. I can't imagine seeking out the likes of Waters' staccato delivery on "The Thin Ice", or the reference to Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again" in "Vera", and the subsequent choir singing on "Bring the Boys Back Home". Some songs exist purely as transitions from one major tune to the next, such as "Empty Spaces" bridging "Goodbye Blue Sky" to "Young Lust" or "The Happiest Days of Our Lives" bridging parts 1 and 2 of "Another Brick in the Wall". I could see how this album would have benefited from trimming down to the more essential tunes of the album and connecting those stronger elements.

Still, that doesn't stop The Wall from being an album that served as an end-all-be-all to the progressive rock movement of the 1970s, capping it with a full-on rock opera experience that was worth it to behold. Even if I still prefer Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and Animals, I cannot deny how amazing this record is.