Reviews by abrisskull

The last Doors album on my journey, and much like the other two, I genuinely enjoyed Morrison Hotel from front to back. This was the band's return to blues rock after their string- and brass-arranged art-rock direction with The Soft Parade, and they knocked it out of the park.

Of course, the notable highlights of the record are the songs still played on the radio, namely the long-enduring bar song "Roadhouse Blues" and the funk-rock boogie of "Peace Frog" that often gets paired with the tender love ballad "Blue Sunday". But the rest of the record is just as good, between the longing on the psychedelic stomper "Waiting for the Sun", the keyboard-driven hard rocker "You Make Me Real", the syncopated rhythms and shifting time signatures that signal impending destruction on "Ship of Fools", the sea shanty-inspired jauntiness of "Land Ho!", the slow-burn blues of "The Spy", the pensive introspection on the jam number "Queen of the Highway", the serene acoustic haze of "Indian Summer", and the straightforward blues closer "Maggie M'Gill." The band fired on all cylinders throughout the runtime, with strong additional support from Ray Neopolitan and Lonnie Mack's basslines. Jim Morrison continued to be fervently poetic in his lyrics, painting such a seedy underbelly of the world from his view, while also devoting twisted yet sweet tributes to his longtime girlfriend Pamela Courson.

I don't have much else to say here, as Morrison Hotel was yet another banger of a record from The Doors. Of course, the band would continue this return to the blues with L.A. Woman, then Jim would tragically pass away, and the rest is history.

I will admit that Pet Shop Boys are a synth-pop group that I've barely listened to in the past, including the single "It's a Sin" off this record. At the height of their career, they seemed to present themselves as a more highbrow take on the genre, and I certainly got that notion from listening to Actually.

Neil Tennant's vocals are rather expressive in his upper register without coming off as too abrasive against Chris Lowe's glistening keys, and further bolstered by the solid production. There are some truly catchy melody lines that Lowe composed for most of the record, including the jaunty hook of "What Have I Done to Deserve This?" and the pompous orchestra hits of "It's a Sin". Not to mention, the duo had some genuinely inspiring outside help, between the duet with Dusty Springfield on the aforementioned "What Have I Done to Deserve This?" that recaptured her glory days, and the ethereal string arrangements that Ennio Morricone lent to them for "It Couldn't Happen Here".

As for the lyrical content, Tennant and Lowe certainly provided striking social commentary balanced with musing on personal relationships. The fervent desire to find that special someone amidst the paranoia on "One More Chance", the struggles in pursuing both a love life and financial gain on "What Have I Done to Deserve This?", the transactional relationship dissected in "Rent", the unexpected impact of the AIDS crisis in the U.K. on "It Couldn't Happen Here", the poignant critique of Tennant's Catholic upbringing and education on "It's a Sin", the comparisons drawn between unrequited love and a bad dream on "I Want to Wake Up", and the absolute scorn towards Thatcherism in showing the damage done to the common folk on "King's Cross"; all of these songs came off surprisingly profound. Even the straightforward love song "Heart" elicited strong passion with Tennant's poetic words about these two different lovers' hearts coming together for this high-energy dance.

Though I have to admit that there were a few songs that I wasn't as into. Of the songs on here that aimed squarely at the UK government under Margaret Thatcher, "Shopping" is definitely the weakest, as the corny spelling of the titular word on the hook severely undercuts the critique of industry privatization. Also, "Hit Music" unfortunately didn't do much for me, in taking inspiration from Henry Mancini's Peter Gunn theme to make rather rote observations of how music on the radio can have a communal effect on people.

Overall, I do consider Actually to be an enjoyable record. It certainly made me look forward to the other Pet Shop Boys included in the books.

I will not include the bonus demo tracks from the 2011 reissue in this review.

I know I've listened to Suede a couple of times, sporadically, including the singles "So Young" and "Animal Nitrate" from their self-titled debut here. They're often considered one of the progenitors of Britpop, credited with helping bring back English guitar music at a time when rock over there was split across the Madchester, shoegaze, and grunge scenes. I can certainly hear that artistry across their debut.

The sprawling, reverbed guitarwork of Bernard Butler paired with Brett Anderson's wailing vocals and the supportive rhythm section of Mat Osman and Simon Gilbert made for a rather eclectic sound. Whether it's the high-paced frenetics of "Moving", the lush breeze of "Pantomime Horse", or the somber piano ballad "The Next Life", the band flexed their dynamics across a wide range. Along with that, Brett's impressionistic lyrics ran the gamut of personal issues, including drug use on "Animal Nitrate" and "Sleeping Pills", people in his life whom he's lost on "She's Not Dead" and "The Next Life", troubled relationships on "Pantomime Horse" and "Animal Lover", and the fleeting jovialness of youth on "So Young". He certainly got away with such striking imagery in words, while also toying with sexual ambiguity on a cut like "The Drowners".

That said, I do feel there's one element of this record that's holding it back for me: the production. I'm sure producer Ed Bueller did what he felt was the best he could, but the sound is so overpolished that any guitar crunch on tracks like "Moving" and "The Drowners" ended up sterilized. It's a shame, because I can recognize good songwriting and construction on display here, but it's being watered down.

Still, I do consider this a solid debut, as Suede would prove influential for a whole crop of artists to come.

As someone who grew up in the 2000s, I cannot deny the crossover appeal American Idiot accumulated. Even before I formally got into rock music, I was enjoying singles like "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and "Wake Me Up When September Ends" on mainstream radio. Then once I formally got into rock music and started going through Green Day's discography, I came to realize how well this record held up in their catalog, long after they first broke into the mainstream with Dookie. The neat part about a record like this garnering such mass appeal was that it was made without compromising the band's ambition here.

Let's be clear, this was not the originally intended follow-up to Warning. That album was not well received at the time, even if in hindsight it's an underappreciated gem. But because of the reception at the time, the members of Green Day decided to make a more straightforward return to the fast-paced punk music they began with on what would have been known as Cigarettes & Valentines. But the master tapes for that follow-up were stolen, so after consulting with their longtime producer Rob Cavallo, the band ended up working on a new record from scratch. The new direction the band took would be to write a "punk rock opera", inspired by the rock operas that The Who and David Bowie had done before. Now, it's not the first time such a concept had been done for punk - Hüsker Dü's Zen Arcade springs to mind. But given the reach Green Day built and Billie Joe Armstrong's disdain of America when the Iraq War was underway, there was potential for such a format to ascend. Boy, did it ascend, right through the roof.

I think what worked in American Idiot's favor is its accessibility. For as much as it is meant to be an "opera", the songs still maintain that approachable pop-punk songwriting that the band had fine-tuned up to this point. That much should be evident from the 3-minute fervent explosiveness of the opening title track. From there, the mood is set for the 9-minute "Jesus of Suburbia", introducing the antihero of the story through a series of movements that can go in some intriguing directions while being easily dissectible, like the jaunty piano-driven "City of the Damned", the almost ballad-like "Dearly Beloved", and the anthemic closer "Tales of Another Broken Home". Even when songs are paired together, like with "Are We the Waiting" into "St. Jimmy", or are multi-movement like "Jesus of Suburbia" and "Homecoming", the individual components can be enjoyed on their own and in unison.

Also adding to the accessibility of this record is the story's intentional vagueness. Sure, there are characters in this narrative, with the aforementioned Jesus of Suburbia, St. Jimmy, and Whatsername. But those characters serve more as archetypes to resonate with. It's a risky move, but it allows the themes of this album to shine - the disenfranchisement, the isolation, the frustration towards what's going on in the modern world, and striving to survive in it; concepts that feel universal and managed to maintain relevance. The one exception to the loose narrative and theming would be the melancholic ballad "Wake Me Up When September Ends", chronicling Billie Joe's life after his father's death. It's a rather touching song, coming from a rather earnest place.

If I had to nitpick, it would be in a manner that, weirdly enough, reminds me of how I felt about John Grant's "Jesus Hates F-----s". From the get-go on the title track, Billie Joe uses that f-word in his vulgar language toward the mass media's orchestration of public hysteria. But he did establish his bisexuality as far back as "Coming Clean" off of Dookie, and he directs that word unto himself, so he gets a pass in my book. That said, the use of that r-word in the "Dearly Beloved" segment of "Jesus of Suburbia" hasn't exactly aged well. But that's one bold word in a sea of them, so it's not enough to take me out of the experience.

Finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't point out how largely subdued Mike Dirnt's basslines have become over the years. By this point, he more or less follows Billie Joe's guitar lines across the board, even when Dirnt's bass becomes noticeable, such as during the bridge on "Holiday". But considering the guitar parts are already amazing, I'll let it slide here.

Overall, I adore American Idiot. This record has surprisingly held up over the years, as Green Day managed to reinvigorate themselves. The band would continue with the "punk rock opera" format for 21st Century Breakdown, before becoming creatively spent with the 2012 trilogy and subsequently returning to their straightforward punk roots with Revolution Radio and Saviors (the less said about Father of All..., the better). In any case, I'm glad that this album exists, as such a tenacious statement towards the modern era.

It's rather fitting that the last two Radiohead records I get on my journey are the ones that everyone points to as their biggest, most transformative releases around the turn of the millennium. But before I touch upon the former, it's time to look at the latter.

Kid A can be viewed as a self-challenge for Thom Yorke. He and his band were burnt out from their work on and promotion of OK Computer, and he in particular was troubled by the number of acts popping up in the wake of that album's success. He grew sick of the imitators, of the music media, and of rock music at large, and as such turned to a different avenue - electronic music. Thom and his mates were taken in by artists like Aphex Twin, Underworld, and Björk, alongside old-school krautrock bands like Can, and jazz greats like Miles Davis and Charles Mingus, letting in this wide array of eclectic influences to carve out something new. That new direction would lead to the release of Kid A.

This was quite the stylistic shift from what Radiohead were doing in the '90s. While live instrumentation is still a core component of the band's sound, such as that repeating bassline building up to a free jazz break with the horns on "The National Anthem", the prominent guitar riffs on "Optimistic", or the acoustic ballad coupled with the orchestral swell of "How to Disappear Completely", the sound of Kid A is largely driven by electronic ambience. The hypnotic synthesizer pattern and digitally altered vocals on "Everything in Its Right Place", the spacious keys and subtle drum machine beat on the title track, the guitar loops stretched out into airy wisps on "Treefingers", the thudding drum machine and sampled four-chord synthesizer motif on "Idioteque"- all these elements coalesce into this chilling, unconventional soundscape.

All the while, Thom kept his lyrics largely ambiguous, to the point where he cut up and randomized phrases while manipulating his vocals through vocoders and digital effects. In a sense, Thom wanted to make his vocals into another instrument, to blend in amongst the cacophony of sounds as feelings of exhaustion from his band's recent success and existential dread loomed heavy. Probably the most harrowing of these tracks is "Idioteque", as Thom's imagery highlights the imposing threat of technological advances to our own world. It all culminates in the pedal-organ-driven "Motion Picture Soundtrack", where the death scene forming alongside the arpeggiating harps is intentionally vague, allowing for multiple interpretations of what it could mean; this paired with the ominous ambience of the untitled hidden track made for such a blissful yet bittersweet ending.

Suffice it to say, I do find Kid A to be a genuinely moving piece of work. It is the testament of a band not content to ride on past success, instead pushing boundaries for the art.

Last time I spoke about Primal Scream, it was with Vanishing Point, which proved to be more of a haphazard fever dream than a cohesive album. I figured I might have a better time with their commercial breakthrough, Screamadelica, and sure enough I did.

I think what made the experimentation on Screamadelica work better than Vanishing Point was the focus and easing in for the listener. That much is evident on the opening track "Movin' On Up", where the band deliberately start with a conventional rock structure before adding in Toby Toman's house-inspired drum cadence and the gospel backing vocals. The mood is set from there to unleash a rather trippy rendition of The 13th Floor Elevators' "Slip Inside This House", complete with reverbed sitar, a hypnotic tabla pattern mixed with drum sampling from Sly and the Family Stone's "Sex Machine", Henry Olsen's liquid basslines, and Martin Duffy's equally mesmerizing piano rollick. There is a deliberate sense of control in the band's introduction of acid house influence into their neo-psychedelic rock sound. This tempered approach lets them get away with the likes of the four-on-the-floor beat and guitar scratching on "Don't Fight It, Feel It", the elegant woodwind and glistening keys guiding through the ambient haze of "Inner Flight", the anthemic gospel and house fusion of "Come Together", and the reworking of their earlier song "I'm Losing More Than I'll Ever Have" into the sample-heavy dub remix that is "Loaded". I can certainly commend Bobby Gillespie and company for taking their wide variety of musical tastes and fine-tuning them for this album.

That said, though, this record can run a tad long. I certainly felt the momentum dwindle on the acoustic ballad "Damaged", and it never seemed to recover, even if I dug the saxophone hamming on "I'm Comin' Down". I personally feel that a few tracks could have been trimmed from the end; for example, as much as the two-part dub symphony remix of "Higher Than the Sun" with former Public Image Ltd. bassist Jah Wobble seemed like an intriguing idea on paper, I found the original track earlier in the album to be more engaging and to the point.

Still, Screamadelica gave me a much better impression of the highs that Primal Scream can reach than Vanishing Point did. I consider this record to be a worthy recommendation, showcasing the influence acid house had on other genres.

This review will be based on the 1991 version released to the United States.

The Shamen are certainly one of the interesting bands to include in the 1001 Books. They started as a psychedelia band out of Scotland in the 1980s, until frontman Colin Angus and bassist Will Sinnot got a taste of the London acid house movement. They met vocalist/keyboardist Richard West aka Mr. C and DJ "Evil" Eddie Richards, and they all worked together to transition the group into the rave scene. That transition would be made apparent with the release of En-Tact.

This album really does feel like it only could have come out of the blossoming UK acid house scene in 1990. While there are traces of the band's earlier psychedelic sound, like with the occasional guitar line on "Human NRG (Massey)", the core of this sound is the four-on-the-floor drum machine beat, the squelching synthesizers, ambient textures, and Colin's effortless delivery opposite Mr. C's braggadocious faux-rapping and Plavka Lonich's sensual vocals. This style was certainly implemented well on a bouncing single like "Move Any Mountain", the lush Latin-infused guitar rollick amidst the tinging beats on "Possible Worlds", the pensive quiet storm with the prominent upward electronic keyboard line on "Omega Amigo", and the slightest sample of the record-scratch from Herbie Hancock's "Rockit" in the transitions on "Lightspan". All the while, the lyrics are largely abstract yet maintain a positive outlook, only ever overt with the sampling of an anti-apartheid speech on "Hear Me (O My People)". It certainly made for the kind of dance music I would imagine was going on in the UK underground clubs at the time, and I can vibe with that for a bit.

But then came along "666 Edit", where I started hearing the familiar refrain of "Move Any Mountain", and I had a sinking feeling. As it turns out, the album ends with remixes of earlier songs. I wouldn't have minded it if these were bonus tracks, but there is nothing to indicate that they were. So by the time I got to the third rendition of "Move Any Mountain" with "Progen 91 [I.R.P. in the Land of Oz]", I was feeling admittedly fatigued from the repetition. Honestly, if this record ended with "Hear Me (O My People)", it would have been viewed in a better light. I will commend the inclusion of multiple electronic groups and DJs, including the likes of "Evil" Eddie, Orbital, Lenny Dee, and 808 State for providing their remixes, but at some point, we have to trim the fat.

Overall, I get the vibe of a record like En-Tact. It's certainly a fun house record in the moment before the fatigue crept in, and I can applaud The Shamen for making the transition. Sadly, though, the group would split by the end of the decade, as members focused more on their solo projects. Still, they had made their impression at the right place and the right time.

It's been almost two years since I revisited Van Halen's 1984 for my album journey. While I am still firm in how much I enjoyed that record, I will concede that their self-titled debut is the one album that defined this band.

It's hard to deny how good of a first impression they made, despite the slap-dash recording and production process. Bassist Michael Anthony would later argue that this was a deliberate approach to capture the band's live energy at the time. But a part of me does feel that producer Ted Templeman knew what he had going with this band, and just let them do their thing. It was probably for the best, because their performance spoke for itself. Michael and Alex Van Halen's tight, uptempo rhythms, David Lee Roth's crass bravado as a frontman, and Eddie Van Halen's otherworldly guitar shredding came together for an undeniably fun and approachable metal record that still kicks ass. From front to back, this album is stacked with bona fide bangers, including deep cuts like the brooding "Little Dreamer", the furious closer "On Fire", and elevated covers of The Kinks' "You Really Got Me" and John Brim's "Ice Cream Man". Even the instrumental wank of "Eruption" became one of the most revered guitar solos of all time. Not a single moment felt wasted on this record.

Van Halen's self-titled debut is an absolute must-hear from this band, proving that heavy metal can be fun and light-hearted while still delivering the goods.

For the sake of this review, I listened to tracks 4-9 of the 2008 deluxe edition, which is the original release tracklist.

I ended up revisiting Mudhoney's Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge earlier this year, and found my thoughts on that album to be more or less the same. Aside from a few songs, I couldn't find much in the way of distinct hooks or melodies amidst the muted production. It sucks because I do recognize how foundational Mudhoney was to grunge music. Perhaps their debut EP, Superfuzz Bigmuff, might be the one to win me over?

Well, color me impressed. Right from the get-go with "Need", the hooks are immediate amidst the fuzzed-out guitars, tight rhythm section, and Mark Arm's abrasive vocals. Jack Endino's production is more complementary to the band's sound, allowing the full unbridled tenacity of their instrumentation to hit hard, particularly with Dan Peters's tom-tom drum rumbling throughout "Chain That Door", Matt Lukin's thumping bass on "No One Has", and the quiet-loud dynamic of "If I Think". Plus, while the lyrics here still carry some nihilism, there's also a greater degree of angst and existential questioning, which I do think suits the band well.

If I had to nitpick, though, it was a tad difficult following along with the stop-and-go feel of "If I Think". It does take a bit to gel with that track. But even that, coupled with the shorter runtime of an EP format, isn't enough to dissuade me. In fact, I'd say Superfuzz Bigmuff lives up to the explosive styling that Mudhoney brought to the burgeoning Seattle grunge movement, in a tighter package no less.

It's been almost a year since I checked out Björk's debut on my album journey, and I was curious which record I'd get from her next. As it turned out, this was quite the genre swerve.

After the success of her electronic-influenced Vespertine, Björk wanted to avoid instruments and electronics altogether, opting for a more introverted approach that focused on the human voice. Thus, aside from programming and a few spare instrumental additions such as the occasional piano or bass synthesizer, Medúlla is an a capella album. It's certainly an ambitious effort, reflected in the personnel she recruited to offer a variety of vocal techniques. You have Tagaq's Inuit throat singing on tracks like "Pleasure Is All Mine" and "Who Is It (Carry My Joy on the Left, Carry My Pain on the Right)", beatboxing from Rahzel of The Roots, Shlomo, and Dokaka on the likes of "Where Is The Line", "Oceania", and "Triumph of a Heart", Gregory Purnhagen's mimicry of a trombone on "Where Is The Line" and "Triumph of a Heart", and the choral vocals for half the record offering a wide range of utility with the voice while keeping Björk's off-kilter delivery the central focus. Even Mike Patton of Faith No More fame and Robert Wyatt show up to offer more passionate deliveries on cuts like "Where Is The Line" and "Submarine". Stranger than that, Beyoncé almost made it on this record. Imagine the reception that would have garnered.

And yet... I don't know, this record's not quite fully clicking for me. I cannot deny the bold direction that Björk went with this record, but the focus on the voice can be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, there is an almost earthly feel to stripping back the instrumentation and focusing on the voice, which can certainly work wonders on the more intimate cuts like "Show Me Forgiveness" and "Öll Birtan". On the other hand, when you have a collective of voices coming together and need to keep Björk's voice at the center while also tinkering with the programming to keep the beatboxing patterns in time, the mixing can get rather muddy. I'm not surprised that these songs would be difficult to replicate in a live setting, because the programming had to play a bigger role in keeping it all together without a melodic instrumental foundation, and it doesn't always pay off.

Man, I spent so much time discussing the voices on the record, I hadn't even gotten to what Björk was saying with hers. Aside from the gibberish on cuts like "Ancestors" and "Miðvikudags", Björk reflected on her motherhood after the birth of her daughter with artist Matthew Barney. Some tracks like "Pleasure Is All Mine" and "Submarine" saw her muse on the breastfeeding she did for her newborn, and the intimacy surrounding it, while other tracks like "Show Me Forgiveness", "Where Is The Line", and "Who Is It (Carry My Joy on the Left, Carry My Pain on the Right)" saw her grapple with more complex emotions as she sought to do right as a new mother in a chaotic world. "Oceania" even saw her extending the motherly outlook onto the world itself, as the ocean is viewed as a caretaker for the countries it surrounds, with no boundaries between them. It's a bit clunky in the messaging, but I found it endearing. Really, the only lyrics that I wasn't into were the outro of "Mouth's Cradle", with the repeated lines "I need to build a shelter away/From all the Osamas and Bushes", very bluntly telling the audience that even she was emotionally affected by 9/11 and the war with Iraq. Even if her heart was in the right place, her feelings on that predicament could have been told differently.

At the end of the day, I respect the experimentation on Medúlla, even if I feel it's only partially realized. I know Björk would continue with her genre-swerving, and I certainly admire her for doing so, even if it's not always gonna click for me. That's all.

Alright, third Steely Dan record on my journey, and this time, it's their debut. I'm familiar with the singles "Do It Again" and "Reelin' in the Years", along with a few album cuts like "Dirty Work" and "Only a Fool Would Say That", and I still enjoy them a fair bit. How does the rest of Can't Buy a Thrill stack up?

Well, I'll admit that this is my favorite Steely Dan record thus far. I think it boils down to how much more energetic the overall style of Can't Buy a Thrill is compared to the laid-back, easy-listening jazz rock that I came to expect from Countdown to Ecstasy and Aja. The guitar work of Jeff Baxter and Denny Dias is more involved, and the hooks are prominent and upbeat. Even when the tempo is slowed down for the likes of "Dirty Work" and "Kings", the beat from Jim Hodder is snappy as Donald Fagen and David Palmer traded soulful deliveries over the upward tonal modulation. Hell, even Jim takes lead vocals on "Midnite Cruiser," and he nails it. From an instrumental standpoint, the album is engaging from back to front, with no real lull in between, as Gary Katz's rich production made all the above elements stand out alongside such notable guest contributions like Jerome Richardson's tenor sax solo on "Dirty Work" and Elliott Randall's soaring guitar lead on "Reelin' in the Years".

As for the lyrical content, Donald and Walter Becker ran through some biting social commentary. Whether it's the exploration of vices on "Do It Again", the allusions to the Watergate scandal through the tale of Robin Hood on "Kings", the scathing retort to John Lennon's "Imagine" on "Only a Fool Would Say That", or evading the draft on "Fire in the Hole", the two of them brought their game with looking outward at the hell that's brewing in the world. Though that said, they do take the time to develop some genuine character moments, such as the lament over bygone opportunities on "Midnite Cruiser", the yearning over an ex-lover on "Reelin' in the Years", and the cheeky caricature of Donald's fellow apartment tenant on "Brooklyn (Owes the Charmer Under Me)". Plus, it was a nice sentiment ushering in the next generation on "Change of the Guard", followed by begging Michael the Archangel and Jesus Christ for a second chance at life to make things right on "Turn That Heartbeat Over Again". It's an unusually optimistic note to end the record on.

Overall, I really dug Can't Buy a Thrill. I'm curious about that last Steely Dan record on my journey, but I am firm in my adoration for the band's debut.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the 2009 remastered version in this review.

I don't think I've ever heard of The Only Ones before. They're a London-based band that straddles the line between punk, power pop, and new wave, which certainly made me think of Blondie's Parallel Lines and Elvis Costello & The Attractions' This Year's Model from a couple of months ago on my album journey. That comparison might be apropos, because their self-titled debut also kicks ass.

I think what catapulted this record into the stratosphere for me was the electrifying guitar riffing of Peter Parrett and John Perry. All the while, Alan Mair kept the basslines tight, and Mike Kellie was absolutely manic behind the kit; seriously, some of his drum fills on this record were absolutely captivating. Along the way, they added some welcoming embellishments from the session personnel, such as Mick Gallagher's tantalizing keyboard work, the blaring horns from Raphael & Friends, and Koulla Kakoulli's affectionate vocals behind Peter's slightly nasally yet endearing delivery. The production team under the helm of Robert Ash did wonders, making each of these elements stand out through the runtime, as the songs ranged from the swooning opener "The Whole of the Law", to high-energy assaults like "Another Girl, Another Planet" and "City of Fun", to more mid-tempo stompers like "The Beast" and "Creature of Doom".

As for the lyrics, Peter certainly worked through the varying relationship matters, with thinly veiled allusions to addiction. Sure, sometimes his words came off a bit naive; "Language Problem" springs to mind with a line like "I love my mother, but I wouldn't want to have sex with her." Yet, by the same token, I do believe that Peter is coming from a genuine place as he puts his heart out for someone else, ultimately leading to the gut-wrenching acceptance of having to let them go on "The Immortal Story".

Overall, I was surprised by The Only Ones' debut. I figured this would be just another record from a short-lived band that proved influential on later acts, but this album proved to be more than that.

I know I checked out the title track to this album sometime last year. For those not aware, Peter Tosh was one of the founding members of The Wailers alongside Bob Marley and Bunny Wailer. However, Peter and Bunny would later leave the band, citing unfair treatment by their label, Island Records, and its founder, Chris Blackwell. Peter would pursue a solo career, releasing his debut record, Legalize It, through CBS Records.

The essence of the reggae sound that Peter established with The Wailers is very much present here, between the slow tempo, the emphasis on the downbeat, the prominent staccato guitars, and Peter's call-and-response lyricism. Granted, it's hard to gauge the bass's presence, as the production comes off rather tinny, lacking in the low end. But I can at least compliment the more intricate guitarwork on this record, particularly Donald Kinsey's soloing on a cut like "No Sympathy".

As for Peter's lyrics, the first half comes off rather strong. The title track's fervent calls for the legalization of cannabis, "Burial" in laying bare the Rastafarian practice of not attending funerals out of belief in reincarnation, "Whatcha Gonna Do" in Peter's dealings with religious and racial discrimination, "No Sympathy" as a more bluesy reworking of an earlier Wailers tune in detailing the desperation for peace amidst neverending persecution, and "Why Must I Cry" as a truly gutwrenching ballad over lost love, all are sold with the utmost conviction from Peter amidst the laidback vibes. Hell, even side two opens well with the overtly religious tone of "Igziabeher (Let Jah Be Praised)".

That said, the momentum does wane as the album closes out on a series of relationship-matter songs that I don't find interesting. "Ketchy Shuby" uses the Jamaican variation of cricket as foreplay for sex, and it isn't particularly clever at hiding it. "Till Your Well Runs Dry" is another heartbreak song that doesn't carry the same gravitas that "Why Must I Cry" had, undercut by the weirdly jovial chorus. Finally, "Brand New Second Hand" is the callout of a cheating woman that left me with a rather bitter taste at the end.

Overall, I do consider Legalize It to be a solid record in establishing Peter Tosh as a breakout star in his own right. Sadly, he would later be killed by gang members. Decades after Peter's death, Jamaica would finally relax its laws and allow for the legal recreational use of the herb. The push for legalization continues in other countries, but at the very least, it's evident that his work has made a mark.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the 1996 CD reissue in this review.

Last time I spoke about The Byrds, it was regarding Younger Than Yesterday, an album that saw them continue dabbling in psychedelia and jazz following their previous record. Well, here's that previous record. Fifth Dimension would be a significant album in the band's catalog, not only for the increased songwriting contributions from James Roger McGuinn and David Crosby in the wake of Gene Clark's exit from the group, but also for its influence across the folk rock, psychedelic rock, country rock, and raga rock genres. In fact, the term "raga rock" was coined by the band's publicist during the promotion of the lead single, "Eight Miles High". So the significance of Fifth Dimension to the rest of the 1960s is firmly established. The question is, does it hold up all these years later?

Let me start by acknowledging how strong the opening title track is for setting the mood. It's a very loose psychedelic waltz, as Roger sang about crossing beyond his dimensional boundaries with such curiosity. Roger has stated that this track was based on Albert Einstein's Theory of Relativity, but it's more likely a song about taking drugs. In fact, it can be argued that multiple songs on this record are ostensibly about being on drugs while trying to hide it behind abstract lyrics that could have a more reasonable meaning, such as the band's flight to London on "Eight Miles High", the fervent desires to be with a loved one on "I See You", Roger's earnest wonderment toward extraterrestrial life on the jaunty country-rock tune "Mr. Spaceman", or David Crosby's constant questioning of his given predicament on "What's Happening?!?!". The only sobering moment on this record is "I Come and Stand at Every Door", adapted from a poem by Turkish poet Nâzım Hikmet, describing from the viewpoint of a seven-year-old Japanese girl killed during the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. It is a shockingly harrowing ballad, one that I did not expect The Byrds of all bands to pull off. Along the way, the band did a reasonably solid job in taking influence from raga and modal jazz to make such trippy songs, most notably with "Eight Miles High", one of the last songs written by Gene Clark for the band.

Speaking of him, it's clear that Gene Clark's absence was felt. Not only is the best song on here the aforementioned "Eight Miles High" by a comfortable margin, but the band had to compensate by including multiple covers and an instrumental, none of which quite stack up. "Captain Soul" is an admittedly fine blues instrumental that's not much to write home about, and the band's takes on the traditional "Wild Mountain Thyme" and "John Riley" both come off rather dry in the execution, even with producer Allen Stanton's string arrangements. I will give David Crosby credit for convincing the band to jump on the bandwagon of covering Billy Roberts's "Hey Joe", cause they did try to make it fun with that bouncy cowbell. Still, the superior "Hey Joe" cover would come out the following year from Jimi Hendrix. Finally, the album closes on "2-4-2 Fox Trot (The Lear Jet Song)", a song inspired by the band's friend John Lear, son of jet manufacturer Bill Lear, in an attempt to immerse the listener in the takeoff of one of John's private jets. It certainly has novelty as one of the first pop tunes to incorporate recorded sound effects, even if it made for a rather perfunctory ending.

All in all, I will credit Fifth Dimension with laying the groundwork for several musical innovations throughout the rest of the 1960s. I wish the album wasn't as uneven as it is, as many of these ideas weren't fully realized and didn't lend themselves to a cohesive body of work.

It's been over a year and a half since I got my last Metallica album on my journey, and it's time to talk about the self-titled release, aka The Black Album. While the band started to gain more traction from their prior release, ...And Justice for All, particularly off the music video for "One", it was The Black Album that broke them, and metal in general, into the mainstream. It's to the point where not only do all the singles still get radio airplay, but for the album's 30th anniversary, a tribute album was released, illustrating how The Black Album had a profound impact across many genres. I don't consider it hyperbole for me to say that this record's had quite the legacy. It certainly helps that The Black Album still holds up.

I think the main factor in the record's mass appeal is the mature songwriting. Before this, Metallica lyrics largely dealt with relentless violence and destruction to the surrounding world. With The Black Album, the lyrics got more personal and introspective, as James Hetfield, with the guidance of Lars Ulrich and producer Bob Rock, dug deeper within himself and his background to find something more profound. His struggles with addiction are alluded to on "Sad But True", his bitterness over his father leaving his family is felt on "The Unforgiven", life out on the road is expressed with reverence on "Wherever I May Roam", and the heartfelt message toward his then-girlfriend on "Nothing Else Matters" ends up rather touching. Probably the most profound of these songs is "The God That Failed", written after James's mother passed away after refusing to receive cancer treatment over her religious beliefs. His absolute disdain towards Christian Science is palpable on this track.

That said, not every song is directly linked to James's background, as other tunes express more universal themes. The nightmare fuel of "Enter Sandman", the calling out of self-righteousness on "Holier Than Thou", the badassery of "Don't Tread on Me", the endless search for enlightenment on "Through the Never", the primal instincts on "Of Wolf and Man", the existential dread on "My Friend of Misery", and the suicidal ideation on "The Struggle Within" all carry a good emotional weight to them. If anything, these songs encapsulate the confidence that James has built as a songwriter.

Alongside the lyrics, the music itself is just as menacing. While there are trace elements of their earlier thrash sound on cuts like "Through the Never" and "The Struggle Within", the overall style on The Black Album is a lot slower and tuned down, making the catchy guitar riffs, Jason Newsted's bass lines, James's gruff vocals, and Lars's hard-hitting drumming all the more prominent. Credit to Bob Rock for making the production on this record as layered and dense as it is, while also bringing in the orchestration for "Nothing Else Matters" to elevate that track. Hell, even the cowbell on the chorus of "My Friend of Misery" goes hard.

All in all, The Black Album certainly justified its notoriety with an impressive stylistic change that Metallica pulled off. Of course, the band would continue down this experimental rabbit hole with the bloated Load and ReLoad records to mixed results. Regardless, this album is quite the triumph for heavy music.

I was five years old when 9/11 happened. All I can remember from that day was taking shelter with the other kids in kindergarten when it happened. I wasn't even in the same state where it all went down, so little me had no idea what was going on and didn't think much about it at the time. But as I grew up in this new version of America, I learned and researched the ramifications of that day through various history projects I did for school and college. In particular, for a paper I did in my American music college course, I compared different artists' responses to what happened that day. In particular, one of the songs I analyzed for this paper was Bruce Springsteen's "Worlds Apart" off of this record. So yeah, through researching post-9/11 America, I checked out The Rising. But here's the thing - this album is more than just Bruce's response to that event.

In fact, let's take a step back, because the closest that Bruce ever references the events of 9/11 are lines on the second track "Into the Fire", with the narrator's opening remarks on how "the sky was falling and streaked with blood", followed by the second verse detailing the passengers of Flight 93 taking control of the plane and crashing it into the fields of Pennsylvania, and then later with the title track in dedication to the New York Fire Department firefighters who risked their lives to climb the Twin Towers and rescue whoever they could. Sure, some other lines throughout the record could be interpreted as some other perspective from the attack or from post-9/11 reactions in the world. But Bruce was smart to not completely time-lock this record to the immediate aftermath of 9/11, instead exploring a wider range of emotions and introspection in the wake of any tragedy, while offering the means to unite in peace. The strife to overcome the loss of a loved one amidst a turbulent time on the opening track "Lonesome Day", the search for an optimistic outlook on "Waitin' on a Sunny Day", the rescue workers' humility as they became celebrated figures for their herosim during a tragic event on "Nothing Man", the desperation for a loved one to be rescued on "Countin' on a Miracle", the desire for retribution in the aftermath on "Empty Sky", the hardened soldier's views on war in "Further On (Up the Road)", the narrator's turning to various religions to process their grief on "Mary's Place", the tender melancholy as one's absence is dearly felt in "You're Missing", culminating in the call for resilience on "My City of Ruins". It is amazing how multi-faceted this record can be, and how universal the language in Bruce's lyrics can be.

There are a few particular songs I wanted to really highlight from this album. I mentioned earlier about analyzing "Worlds Apart" for my research paper, because I found the messaging on that song especially potent in a post-9/11 world. The story of two star-crossed lovers from different ethnic and cultural backgrounds sends a powerful message, as their romance prevailed against the fervent jingoist sentiments that some hold. That desire for unity continues further into "Let's Be Friends (Skin to Skin)", with calls to put aside past grudges and misjudgements to come together as one. Finally, I also wanted to talk about "Paradise", the penultimate track that saw Bruce pull from a few particular perspectives - a female suicide bomber, a widower, and a person distraught from losing their dearest friend. All of these people looked forward to reaching "paradise", their idealized version of the afterlife, until towards the end when the last person realizes that even the afterlife has an emptiness to it, instead choosing to carry on with their life. It is a deeply harrowing track that comes out wonderfully defiant on the final verse. It's moments like these that make me realize how wonderfully handled the messaging was on this record, to the point where it's held up decades later.

Alongside the lyrics, Bruce also brought the E Street Band for the kind of striking heartland rock that made them famous in the first place, with tracks like "Lonesome Day", "Waitin' on a Sunny Day", "Let's Be Friends (Skin to Skin)", "Mary's Place", and the title track being some of the best examples of this throwback sound. Though even then, this album is also equally tempered by much softer acoustic-driven tunes like "Into the Fire", "Nothing Man", "You're Missing", and "Paradise" for when the atmosphere is needed. Plus, there are a few well-executed stylistic swerves, such as the prominent hip-hop-inspired beat on "The Fuse", and especially the Middle Eastern influence with the Qawwali guest vocalists on "Worlds Apart". Not a moment felt wasted across the tracklist.

All in all, The Rising wound up as a powerful release for Bruce Springsteen, both sonically and lyrically offering a chance for people to unite and find peace amidst desperate times. I know I checked it out originally out of its connections to 9/11, but its words and music have stayed relevant well past the immediate aftermath of that day.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the 2003 Castle reissue in this review.

I have listened to The Modern Lovers in passing before. They were a band out of Natick, Massachusetts that had a surprising amount of trouble getting going. In fact, the band broke up before completing their debut album, largely due to disagreements between singer-songwriter Jonathan Richman and his bandmates. Jonathan ended up signing as a solo artist to Beserkley Records, run by producer Matthew Kaufman, with the intent of starting anew. Along the way, though, Kaufman found and compiled the demo recordings from that failed debut album. Thus, the self-titled release of The Modern Lovers finally saw the light of day.

For a collection of demos, this record sounds pretty damn good. I think that's what happens when you manage to get John Cale of Velvet Underground fame as your producer, cause he knew how to make Jonathan's punchy guitar riffs pop alongside the tight rhythm section of Ernie Brooks and David Robinson, and the equally beaming keyboard work of Jerry Harrison. The chemistry across all these personnel made for the kind of Velvet Underground-influenced proto-punk sound that emitted such ethereal coolness. That said, even the few tracks co-produced by Allan Mason and Robert Appère have their own weird charm to them, making for such hauntingly spare ballads before ramping back up at the end with "Modern World".

Throughout, Jonathan delivered his vocals with such childlike whimsy, running through the relationship matter and observations on his world with such earnestness in dealing with his personal quirks. I genuinely believe it when he looks to painter and sculptor Pablo Picasso as someone to aspire to in his pursuit of romance, or how he embraces the changing of times at the end of "Old World", or how he struggles with women through the likes of "She Cracked", "Hospital" and "Someone I Care About" as he holds out for finding someone to love and not lust over. Plus, I'll admit as someone from Massachusetts, I was enamored by how Boston-coded the lyrics can get, such as cruising down Highway 128 on "Roadrunner", walking through the Museum of Fine Arts and Fenway Park on "Girl Friend", and jokingly calling students to drop out of Boston University on "Modern World".

Maybe this album worked its regionalist magic on me in a similar way that the band Boston's self-titled debut did, but I enjoyed The Modern Lovers all the way through. It sucks the band ended prematurely and was later re-envisioned by Jonathan as an easy-listening rock & roll group. Still, this compilation did its job at paving the way for punk rock, new wave, and other such alternative genres; a more "modern world", as it were.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the 2003 reissue in this review.

Ahh, Jefferson Airplane, one of the pioneering groups of psychedelic rock, helping usher in the San Francisco sound. They were very much at the forefront of the counterculture movement with their two big hits from this record, "Somebody to Love" and "White Rabbit". While the latter is more prominently featured across media than the former, both are damn good with their punchy song structures and Grace Slick's powerhouse vocals. Very few lineup changes felt as impactful as Grace becoming the female vocalist for Jefferson Airplane, alongside jazz drummer Spencer Dryden also brought into the fold, and those two singles proved that impact. But here's the thing - how does the rest of Surrealistic Pillow hold up?

Well, I'd say the album is pretty good, albeit a tad dated in places. For a record clocking in at only 33 minutes, we run through a variety of soundscapes with the band's distinct psychedelic folk sound. Spencer's syncopated drumming all over "She Has Funny Cars", the hauntingly beautiful love ballad "Today" that featured gorgeous vocal harmonies and the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia on that airy lead guitar, the elegant acoustic guitar ballad "Comin' Back to Me", the groovin' rocker "3/5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds", the obtuse country-rock duet between Grace and Paul Kanter on "D.C.B.A.-25", the three-guitar instrumental piece "Embryonic Journey" that gives way to the jazz-inspired call for expanding one's mind on "White Rabbit"; this album is quite the trip. Speaking of trips, a good deal has been said about how the lyrics on this record were likely written while the band members were taking acid and other such drugs, which certainly add to the surrealistic wonderment and the desire to enlighten oneself.

That said, yeah, this album is dated, and it can't be denied. Besides the obvious drug influences of the time and how emblematic the lyrics feel in the lead-up to the Summer of Love, there are some other notable quirks here and there. Besides her vocals, Grace Slick also laid down recorder on "How Do You Feel" and "Comin' Back to Me", which are pleasant but add to how time-locked this record is to early 1967. Also, for as much as I think Paul, Marty Balin, and Jorma Kaukonen do a solid job with their respective vocals, it's evident that Grace was the best vocalist in the group, and it's not even close. Finally, there are admittedly a few weak songs that didn't quite fit with the rest of the record, like the plodding lead single "My Best Friend," which was written by the band's former drummer Skip Spence, or the goofy Balin-penned closing track "Plastic Fantastic Lover" that's only saved by once again having Jerry Garcia play lead guitar.

All in all, there is more to Surrealistic Pillow than its two big singles that I wound up having a good time with. Jefferson Airplane would continue to experiment with psychedelic rock until their split into other groups, like Jefferson Starship. At the very least, they've already etched their mark into history with this record.

I've been a fan of Jane's Addiction for a long time, ever since I first heard "Stop!" on the Guitar Hero II soundtrack. In fact, I saw them perform the entirety of Ritual de lo Habitual back in 2016 at Lollapalooza, the very festival that vocalist Perry Farrell founded. Needless to say, my fondness for this record has grown since then.

This is quite the multifaceted record, with the first half chock-full of hard-hitting funk rockers, while the other half consists of extended, spiritually influenced softer jams. Both halves share Perry's soaring vocals, Dave Navarro's bright, eclectic guitarwork, Stephen Perkins's varied drumming, Eric Avery's popping bass lines, and the spacious production that Perry employed alongside Dave Jerden. There is a fullness to the sound of this album that the band accomplished alongside occasional embellishments like the strings that come in on "Then She Did..." and Charlie Bisharat's emphatic violin intro to "Of Course". Probably the shining crown of Ritual de lo Habitual is the nearly 11-minute "Three Days", sprawling over multiple movements as Perry's changes up his vocal delivery alongside Stephen's complex drumming and the revving guitars. The track never feels overly long, as the pacing and switchups are well-executed.

As for the lyrical content, there are some surprisingly deep philosophical reflections made throughout the experience. After the Spanglish spoken-word introduction, "Stop!" becomes a full-on cry for the world to slow down its aggressive pace toward self-destruction. Following that, we have the acceptance of different cultures and ethnicities on "No One's Leaving", the precarious views of morality on "Ain't No Right", and Perry's ferocious call to not be judged by others over appearances on "Obvious". Later in the back half, we have the aforementioned softer jams that are loosely themed around Perry's ex-girlfriend Xiola Blue, who passed away from a heroin overdose. "Three Days" saw Perry reminisce on the crazy amount of sex and drugs he had with Xiola and his partner Casey Niccoli, before giving way to mourning for both Xiola and his mother on "Then She Did...". The contemplation over the loss of these women in Perry's life causes him to unleash his hatred toward the cruelty of mankind on "Of Course", before coming back down and focusing on the now with Casey, his "Classic Girl," as he is in awe of her beauty.

Really, the only track that doesn't have a deep lyrical theme is the single "Been Caught Stealing". It's still a fun romp of a track though, and I could see Perry's argument for the song being autobiographical, insofar as his cheap thrill for stealing at a young age.

Overall, it was awesome revisiting Ritual de lo Habitual for my album journey. It sucks that Jane's Addiction ended the way it did, with Perry's onstage altercation with Dave. But at least we still got a classic record out of them with this.

Alright, third and final Kings of Leon record on my album journey, and at this point I might be running out of defense for this band's catalog in its prime. I am once again having to reconcile with the fact that for as much as I dug their early raucous mixture of Southern rock and garage, I'm just not as into the lyrical content that gets badly horny and undercooked in places. That much is apparent from the jump on Aha Shake Heartbreak with the opening track "Slow Night, So Long", where the girl being hooked up with is seventeen years old, but the guy "plum forgot about it" and was with her just for the sex. It sucks that this band fell prey to these bad Southern rock writing tropes, and it's the same deal for the likes of "Taper Jean Girl", "Pistol of Fire", "Milk", "Day Old Blues", "Where Nobody Knows", and especially "Soft," where the guy is dealing with his erectile dysfunction.

There are at least a few tracks that keep this album afloat. "King of the Rodeo" is a jaunty tune for bringing on those good times, "The Bucket" is decently poignant in detailing Jared Followill's struggle attaining fame in the band at such a young age, and "Four Kicks" certainly played well into the rough-housing sensibilities. But overall... look, there's only so much underwritten, unchecked horniness I can handle, even if I enjoyed some of the instrumental work. So, cherry-pick your favorites and go from there.