Reviews by abrisskull

I was wondering when I was gonna get a Madonna record on my album journey. It's admittedly hard to ignore the so-called "Queen of Pop". However, the record I'm starting with her here is quite the curveball.

Continuing in the techno-pop direction of Ray of Light, with both returning producer William Orbit and newcomer French DJ and producer Mirwais, Madonna sought to change up her sound again in the turn-of-the-millennium mainstream dominated by the likes of Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. The fruit of their combined labor would result in the album Music. Sure, the title is unimaginative, but this record actually set a precedent for the next two decades of Madonna's work, as she kept one foot on the pop music zeitgeist while continuing to experiment. In the case of Music, the album is very much the year 2000, for better or worse.

This album is filled to the brim with stuttering electronic beats, squelching basslines, and the adoption of a cowboy kitsch. It very much evokes the time in which it was released. Obviously, it's going to sound dated 25 years after its release because the musical landscape has changed since then, and I don't expect everyone to be as into its blend of techno, electro-house, pop, and country. But as someone who was four years old at the time of this album's release, I cannot deny how much Madonna and this production sell the vibe for the most part. The propulsive, snappy beats and electronic embellishments behind the anthemic title track, that gurgling synth and pulsing bass that are prominent in the space-age club boom of "Impressive Instant", the fast-paced techno flourishes buoying Madonna's rebuke against an unfaithful man on "Runaway Lover", that stuttering acoustic guitar loop that gets built upon for "Don't Tell Me" as she pleaded for her partner to not control her; there are some genuinely intriguing twists and turns with the electronic and techno elements. Though there are a few moments where the energy is dialed back for more acoustic-driven tunes, including the folk ballad "I Deserve It" in dedication to her then-partner Guy Ritchie, followed by the 1960s-inspired pop rock of "Amazing", and the melancholic closer "Gone" as Madonna strummed away on her guitar while reminiscing on this relationship as it comes to a close. Probably the best track on the album for me was "What It Feels Like for a Girl", starting with quoting a Serge Gainsbourg monologue before giving way to a subtle, bouncy beat and supple bass as Madonna addresses the double standards placed onto women by society. It's a surprisingly poignant song coming out of her, combined with such a vibrant ambient production.

Really, the only tracks that didn't work for me were the ones that involved heavy manipulation of Madonna's voice where it wasn't needed. "Nobody's Perfect" saw her voice put through a vocoder, while "Paradise (Not Gone)" made prominent use of the Antares Auto-Tune plug-in set for the non-spoken word portions of the track. For as much as this album is already viewed as a year 2000 record, these two tracks in particular felt indicative of the music industry's response to the use of Auto-Tune in Cher's hit "Believe", and not necessarily for the better. Apparently, from what I read on this album, Madonna actually wanted her voice treated differently in this manner, which Mirwais initially objected to but then ended up using said Auto-Tune for a few of the tracks at her request. Thankfully, it's not on every song on the record, but these two tracks alone feature heavily manipulated vocals where you didn't need them for Madonna of all people, and that's what rubbed me the wrong way.

Still, I overall had a good time with Music, the album. Madonna and her accompanying producers made the most out of what the year 2000 had to offer.

Learning about Sinéad O'Connor's upbringing is definitely unsettling. She was abused by her mother and picked up a nasty habit of stealing from her. Said habit would lead to shoplifting and truancy, which led to Sinéad getting placed in a notorious Catholic Church-run asylum for a year and a half. Those two events led to her very confrontational views on Catholicism while inspiring what she would write in her music. Case in point I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got serves as an album largely addressed to her mother five years after the latter's death.

The opening number, "Feel So Different," with the accompanying string arrangement, saw Sinéad struggle with her emotions around her mother while experiencing this newfound freedom. "I Am Stretched on Your Grave" takes a translated 17th-century Irish poem and pairs it with a sampled drum loop from James Brown's "Funky Drummer", as she seemingly tried to comfort her mother long after the latter had left this mortal existence. "You Cause as Much Sorrow" outright addresses the abuse she endured as a child from her mother over a sweeping acoustic guitar-driven ballad. The closing title track, with its a capella hymnal presentation as Sinéad carried the tune with her voice, was something she got from a dream about her mother, saying those exact words. Even the cover of "Nothing Compares 2 U", a song Prince wrote for his side project The Family, took on new meaning as she sang that tune while thinking about her mother and longing for her. There's a wide range of emotions Sinéad went through on this record as she tried to reconcile with her feelings about that person who loomed so large over her life.

Of course, her mother is not the only subject addressed on this record. "Three Babies" deals with the miscarriages Sinéad went through and accepting those children who will never come to be. "The Emperor's New Clothes", a bouncy alternative rock composition with striking guitar riffs from former Adam and the Ants guitarist Marco Pirroni, showcased Sinéad's defiant personality in the face of this newfound success. The remix of "Jump in the River" from the Married to the Mob film soundtrack was equally hard-hitting, continuing to relish in this rebellious nature. "Last Day of Our Acquaintance" crescendoed from a soft uneasiness into unbridled fury as she confronted this ex-lover. Probably the most eye-opening song for me was "Black Boys on Mopeds", detailing the tragedy of Nicholas Bramble, a young black boy who was wrongly assumed to have stolen a moped. Sinéad got outright visceral in her accusations of the police force under Margaret Thatcher's rule, with the firm belief that they would not have aggressively pursued Nicholas if he were white.

If it wasn't already apparent, I was genuinely moved by this record. Strikingly realized writing, combined with Sinéad's beautiful voice and such lush atmosphere and variance in sound, made I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got such an enduring listen. No punches were pulled, which is probably the best thing I could say about the protest figure that was Sinéad O'Connor.

Finally, after nearly two years, I get my second Stones record on my album journey! Here I thought I was gonna finish the Beatles before that happened. Anyway...

Exile on Main St. gets a lot of notoriety in the Rolling Stones' catalog. Not only was this the band's first double album, but the recording process was particularly messy. They had spent the money that they owed in taxes to the British government, prompting them to leave their home country to avoid seizure of their assets. Keith Richards rented out a villa in Villefranche-sur-Mer, France, where the band set up a makeshift recording studio in the basement, working all night and all day. As if that weren't enough, heroin was abundant during their stay, which proved to be disruptive, especially for Keith, as it became a drug habit for him. Tensions arose between band members who indulged in drugs and those who abstained from them. After some time, the basic tracks were brought over to Sunset Sound Recorders in Los Angeles, where overdubs were added, and Mick Jagger took charge at this stage. After all the turmoil, it's amazing that this record turned out as good as it did.

Across two discs, the Stones run through a smattering of rock and roll, Delta blues, soul, gospel, and country - the most American-sounding that these Brits have been. Side one alone showcases this variety, firing on all cylinders with the hard-hitting ode to that heroin on "Rocks Off", the rockabilly swagger of "Rip This Joint", the earnest cover of Slim Harpo's "Shake Your Hips", the country-rooted slowburn of "Casino Boogie", and the tribute to gambling on the grooving "Tumbling Dice", complete with a call-and-response outro. Mick Jagger commands the mic with his Southern-esque drawl amidst the assorted backup vocalists. The instrumentation of this record is anchored by the well-influenced guitar interplay between Keith Richards and Mick Taylor, and the purposeful brass arrangements from Bobby Keys and Jim Price. I was certainly into this musical palette across other tracks like the barroom country swing of "Sweet Virginia", the piano-driven soulful bliss of "Loving Cup", Keith Richards's twisted jaunty number "Happy", the harmonica-infused fast-paced blues of "Turd on the Run", the swampy gospel of "I Just Want to See His Face", the rocking opener of side four "All Down the Line", and the anthemic penultimate organ-driven chant of "Shine a Light".

But somewhere along the way, I realized that this album could have been trimmed down a bit. I have the sneaking suspicion that by the time they got done with recording, the band and producer Jimmy Miller were burnt out and ended up throwing as many tracks together without thinking about the structure of this record. That does leave me feeling there could have been some cuts and rearranging of tracks, especially in comparison to the more succinct Let It Bleed and Sticky Fingers. I look back on tracks like the twangy country rock of "Torn and Frayed", the lowly slide guitar stomp of "Ventilator Blues", the fervent gospel singing of "Let It Loose", and the decent cover of Robert Johnson's "Stop Breaking Down", and while I didn't hate them, I feel that they add to this repetitive nature as the album kept going. At the very least, "Shine a Light" should have closed out the album instead of another by-the-numbers rocker in "Soul Survivor". Also, for as much as "Sweet Black Angel" was well intentioned in advocating for racial equality after being inspired by civil rights activist Angela Davis, the execution leaves a lot to be desired as the band opted for this backward-looking country-blues track with a West Indian rhythm, as Mick Jagger laid it thick with this Caribbean-esque accent, and he also dropped the n-word on a line. As such, the song winds up being an unfortunate byproduct of its time, and unlike "Brown Sugar" off the preceding album, it couldn't hide that fact behind an infectious hook.

All in all, Exile on Main St. is an enjoyable yet flawed record that represented the Rolling Stones' strengths alongside their lows. Truly an album that would have come out of being drawn away from home and into the throes of excess and exhaustion.

Okay, if Pink Floyd were to be covered across a few records in the 1001 Albums books, it makes sense to include one from the Syd Barrett era of the band. For those not aware, Pink Floyd was more psychedelic rock than progressive rock in the beginning and was fronted by established singer-songwriter Syd Barrett. Of course, the other notable aspect of the band's early days was that Syd partook in a lot of LSD, and that drug is very much reflected in the writing for The Piper at the Gates of Dawn.

This is a very trippy record, with a lot of twisting compositions, dissonant keyboard playing from Richard Wright, and heavy use of echo and reverb. It's weird because I can hear remnants of the sound that the band would transition to through the likes of the space rock voyage of "Astronomy Domine", the storytelling in the yearning for childhood on "Matilda Mother," and the sprawling, nine-minute instrumental improvisation of "Interstellar Overdrive." Yet at the same time, there's also some bizarre novelty tracks with very simple, whimsical topics like Syd talking about one of his Siamese cats, "Lucifer Sam", or the plodding tall tales about gnomes and scarecrows that have this ear-grating click-clacking percussion, or even Syd's admittedly cringeworthy attempts to pick up a girl on "Bike". I can't even say that Syd owned all the weird shit in the lyrical writing, as Roger Waters proved to be just as kooky on the rambling "Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk".

It does seem that the band went for broke with all their experimenting, which is why there is such a wide range of tone throughout this album. That said, not every experiment landed well for me personally. I also can't help but feel that I've heard better, not just with respect to Pink Floyd's catalog, but even for psychedelic and experimental rock in 1967. The Velvet Underground & Nico's debut, The Doors' debut, The Electric Prunes' debut, Disraeli Gears from Cream, Safe as Milk from Captain Beefheart, and both Are You Experienced and Axis: Bold as Love from the Jimi Hendrix Experience were all structurally better than this. Hell, this album was recorded at Abbey Road Studios at the same time as the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's, and while both albums can be considered influential in psychedelic music, I would argue Sgt. Pepper's made the bigger splash, with more consistent quality track by track.

At the end of the day, this may not be close to what I consider the best that Pink Floyd had to offer. But I can recognize and appreciate the importance The Piper at the Gates of Dawn had on psychedelic rock music, and just how unique Syd Barrett was as a songwriter. At the very least, there are some good tracks found in this LSD trip of a record that I can cherry-pick from.

I've wrestled with this record for some time, and I think it comes down to one word - legacy. By 1989, John Lee Hooker was an established blues legend, having been in the game for four decades. At some point, Hooker's manager at the time, Mike Kappus, came up with the idea of Hooker working with a variety of guest musicians to further cement his legacy. That idea blossomed into The Healer, an album which saw John Lee work with collaborators old and new to bring his electric-guitar blues to a new generation.

It should be made apparent that at least half of this album consists of John Lee reworking some of his older material alongside these guest artists. It's nothing new for John Lee to re-record his earlier material and repackage them; he's done it since at least the 1950s. With that in mind, it's nice to hear him play alongside these other musicians, akin to sitting down for a jam session in the recording booth. Similarly, these guests were happy to oblige in said playing along, whether it's the low-key chemistry with Bonnie Raitt and her slide-guitar licks on "In the Mood", Canned Heat's busy shuffle and harmonica vibing on "Cuttin' Out", or Los Lobos' Tex-Mex flair alongside David Hidalgo's accordion embellishments on "Think Twice Before You Go". I especially dug the more intimate collaborations in the middle with long-time admirer George Thorogood on "Sally Mae" and long-time friend Charlie Musselwhite on "That's Alright". Probably the only guest collaboration I wasn't as into was with Carlos Santana and his backing band for the opening title track, between the dated keyboards and the Latin arrangement sounding far removed from John Lee Hooker's wheelhouse.

But then, we have the final three songs. "Rockin' Chair" saw John Lee back to basics, with just him and his guitar as he stomped his foot. It's idiosyncratic, with him adjusting tempo to fit what each song needed, and it is raw and earnest to a fault. I definitely got a sense of that old magic creeping back in for him. That slow-burning energy continued into "My Dream" and "No Substitute" as the subtle backing band kept the boat steady, all while John Lee sang with such a soft delivery that drew me in.

I don't consider The Healer to be a perfect record, and that's okay because I don't think John Lee Hooker had that in mind. He was 73 years old when this album came out; for him, it was a fun session with friends old and new that just happened to become a late-career success. From all accounts, he seemed grateful for the recognition. John Lee would continue to put out collaboration albums until his passing in 2001. His legacy was set, and I can respect that.

I'm not sure if Bonnie Raitt needs much of an introduction as an acclaimed singer-songwriter. But the period of time leading up to this particular record deserves an explanation. After getting dropped by Warner Bros. Records after poor commercial performances for two albums in a row, Bonnie was in a spiral - she dissolved her backing band when she could no longer afford them, she promoted a record that she had no control over, she split profits with the label that just dropped her, she excessively dranked and partied, and she was hospitalized for two months after a skiing accident. It came to a point where she had to stop and reflect on her choices. After attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and sobering up, she resorted to playing acoustic versions of her songs for solo performances. At that point, she crossed paths with musician Don Was of the band Was (Not Was) and started collaborating with him. After they finally found a label willing to work with them, Bonnie and Don got to work on that next record. That record, Nick of Time, would go on to be Bonnie Raitt's commercial breakthrough, after nearly twenty years in the business.

I think the magic of this record lies in Bonnie's impressive contralto voice, loving yet firm with the kind of worldly experience that lets her take command of these rootsy blues-rock tunes. Her presence is established on the opening title track, as she reflects on the people around her aging with such earnestness in her observations. That song and the closing drifter tune, "The Road's My Middle Name", feel like genuinely well-written tracks with her wisened expertise, while the songs from other writers in the middle of the record were nicely picked to match her vibe with warm guitar tones throughout.

If I had to complain, I'd admit that this album sounds dated in a few places, such as the keyboard tones used on "Love Letter", "Cry On My Shoulder", and "Have a Heart". Don Was did a fine enough job on production; the album can't help but feel a tad schmaltzy as commercially viable music in 1989. It still sounds good for coming out of that time, though.

All in all, Nick of Time proved to be a really good comeback record for Bonnie Raitt, and her star would continue to burn bright from this point onward.

So I had to make a playlist with the first eight tracks of the 40 Years of the Incredible Bongo Band release, rearranged to the original LP listing. With that established...

Ooh boy, there is a story to tell with this album. I hadn't heard of the Incredible Bongo Band when I got this record today, and it turns out they weren't even much of a band to begin with. Rather, this was a session project started by artist manager and executive Michael Viner over at MGM Records. Michael was tasked with providing the music for two chase scenes in the science-fiction blaxploitation film, The Thing With Two Heads. So he wrote some songs with arranger Perry Botkin, Jr., brought in bongo percussionist King Errisson and session drummer Jim Gordon for the recording, and worked out a cover of Preston Epps's "Bongo Rock" and "Bongolia" for the film soundtrack. The cover of "Bongo Rock" was released as a single and did surprisingly well, which inspired Michael to bring back Perry, Errisson, and Gordon, alongside other session musicians, to record an entire album. Thus, Bongo Rock was born.

Right from the get-go, with the cover of Sandy Nelson's "Let There Be Drums", it's apparent that the stars of this show were King Errisson and Jim Gordon working these polyrhythmic beats on their respective instruments. The two of them just went hard on could be viewed as a novelty track, taking this surf rock instrumental and elevating it to the next level.

Then I started listening to "Apache" and realized I'd heard it before, as I instinctively started singing "Jump on it/Jump on it/Jump on it" from my office desk. I checked the Wikipedia page for the song, and sure enough, this rendition of Jerry Lordan's "Apache" was sampled by The Sugarhill Gang for their song "Apache", which would become a dancefloor staple despite the blatant Native American stereotypes in the lyrics. But then I noticed that several hip-hop, techno, and drum 'n' bass artists also sampled this same rendition. That got me really curious, so I checked out WhoSampled for the Incredible Bongo Band. As it turns out, NEARLY EVERY SONG on this Bongo Rock album has been sampled in one way or another, including by artists I've already covered on my album journey. "Bongolia" would be used by Fatboy Slim for "The Sound of Milwaukee" off Better Living Through Chemistry. "Last Bongo in Belgium" would be used by Beastie Boys for "Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun" off Paul's Boutique. Hell, "Apache" alone has been used over 800 times, including for "Xtal" and "Heliosphan" on Aphex Twin's Selected Ambient Works and Goldie's "Inner City Life" on Timeless. I've praised these beats before without even realizing where they came from.

So to recap, this album, from a bunch of session musicians put together because some guy needed music for a cheesy B-movie film, ended up being a cornerstone in a new technique of music creation. That's insane. But putting aside all that, this record's still fantastic in its own right. Again, King Errison and Jim Gordon's percussive playing went hard throughout the runtime, to the point where even their soloing on "Dueling Bongos" is a standout. Probably my favorite track on here is the grooving horn-blaring rendition of Iron Butterfly's "In a Gadda Da Vida", which nails the vibe without going for the full 17 minutes of the original.

Yeah, call me genuinely impressed with this Bongo Rock record. Sadly, it didn't sell as well back in the day. Michael Viner would work on one more album with the Incredible Bongo Band, which would also be sampled multiple times. Since that second record didn't sell well either, Michael put the kibosh on the Incredible Bongo Band. Really, Michael got done what he needed to do with that project and then some. I don't think he expected the new life that his project would take for generations of artists.

Probably one of the easiest W's that the 1001 Albums books could achieve is including the two albums that are must-hears to get into Rush. One of the most revered progressive rock acts, the band constantly changed and evolved its sound with such technical proficiency. They started as just another Led Zeppelin-influenced hard rock group before Neil Peart joined the band, and he started writing lengthy, narrative-driven songs with complex structures for them. Granted, some of their first stabs at this progressive rock songwriting ranged from goofy with "By-Tor and the Snow Dog" to clunky fan-fiction written while they were high. That last sentiment fits the longer tracks off of Caress of Steel; that album rubbed so many people the wrong way that their next record was a make-or-break moment for Rush to stay on a label and take creative control. Against pressure from their label and management to make a more commercial record, Rush outright ignored them and proceeded with what they saw fit. Thank God that ballsy move paid off, as 2112 ended up a success, and it's not hard to see why.

The opening title track is debatably some of the finest 20 minutes in rock history. I know that sounds daunting to people who are newer to prog music and feel intimidated by the length. But believe me, "2112" as a track more than justifies its length across several movements of Alex Lifeson's sweeping guitar melodies, Neil Peart's thunderous beats, and Geddy Lee's powerhouse vocals that effortlessly shift in pitch to match the different characters within the narrative. In fact, the narrative can be distilled down to one man's plight for creative freedom against an oppressive government entity, only for that entity to be overthrown by a resistance movement. I think there's some universal appeal in such a story, plus it nicely segues into the second half.

Side two of 2112 can be considered a coda to the band's early days of simplistic songwriting. While this side's obviously not as ambitious as the first, there's no denying how amazingly good a collection of tunes this is. "A Passage to Bangkok" is a fun romp about getting high during an excursion, "The Twilight Zone" is a nice homage to the original television series, "Lessons" and "Something from Nothing" are both hard-hitting, confrontational rockers, and "Tears" is a gut-wrenching ballad with some light Mellotron motifs. I can't imagine a more fitting ending to the first chapter of this band.

Yeah, it's no surprise that I adore 2112 as a record. I'm glad it exists, cause it was what Rush needed to take their creative freedom. They have assumed control.

It's been two years since I listened to Dummy, and I recognized how much of a trip-hop classic that album was. Going into this record, however, made me realize two important aspects about Portishead. First, this group only records and puts out material when its members feel inspired to, which is why there was a decade-plus gap between their self-titled record and Third, and there hasn't been another since. Second, this band does not like to stay in one lane. Thus, with Third, Portishead largely foregoes the trip-hop sound of their earlier material in favor of an experimental, sample-based, smoldering krautrock sound. As someone who's enjoyed a good deal of sample-based music and krautrock on their album journey, I was on board with this.

There is an abrasive, cinematic feel with the mixture of analog synthesizers, eclectic samples, Geoff Barrow's muffled mechanical drums, and Adrian Utley's strikingly jagged guitar riffs. The drum loop buildup of "Silence" that's abruptly cut into the lush, spacious acoustic strums of "Hunter" that give way to dense droning, the cold, delayed guitar effects that spiral around the mix in "Nylon Smile", the transition from a slow-burning folk piece into a downtrodden electronic bass loop on "The Rip", the rattling percussive noise opposite the eerie clarinet in the background of "Plastic", that relentless beat paired with the menacing guitar riff on "We Carry On", followed by an even more intensely pummeling rhythm on "Machine Gun"; there is a genuinely menacing atmosphere worked throughout this record. Very little reprieve can be found here, as even the jaunty ukulele interlude "Deep Water" and the slight return to a trip-hop sound on the closing track "Threads" have this markedly claustrophobic feel to their presentation. Even a cowbell can sound brooding on the melancholic art rock sway of "Magic Doors". I cannot deny how gripping and creative these abrasive experiments are laid bare, with such impeccable production from the band.

The only aspect of Third that retains anything close to what came before is Beth Gibbons's vocals. She gave such an impressively haunting delivery throughout, as her lyrics reflect the mental struggle and frailty to match these spellbinding compositions. I can believe her cyclical view of relationships on "Hunter", her nervous breakdown on "Nylon Smile", her helplessness in the continued existence on "Plastic", and her fragile clinging to life on "We Carry On" and "Deep Water". Closing out with the full-blown uncertainty on "Threads" is quite the note to go out on. I knew Beth was an amazing voice from Dummy, but this feels even more theatrical with the musical palette here.

Yeah, I do consider Third to be an astounding record. Portishead dug deeper to create a sinister yet commanding experimental album. They grew out of the trip-hop label with mastery.

It's been about a year and a half since I listened to A Short Album About Love, and I remember enjoying how many jokes Neil Hannon could pen for a sweeping love-themed orchestral pop album. To no surprise, the preceding Divine Comedy record, Casanova, is also a joke-filled orchestral pop affair, largely themed around sex.

Whether it's the sexual advance of the narrator leading to his getting beaten and robbed on "Something for the Weekend", the struggles with love for the womanizer on "Becoming More Like Alfie", the ludicrous wartime analogies of "Charge", the sexual plight of the adolescent male on "Songs of Love", or the flip on a fairy tale story with "The Frog Princess", Neil Hannon breaks out one quip after another with a schmaltzy delivery, while providing the orchestral arrangements himself alongside co-producer and drummer Darren Allison. Neil certainly presented a cross between Scott Walker, sexual deviant, and pure theater kid energy. Why else would he include an end credits song in "Theme from Casanova", if not to play into the camp of it all?

Much like with A Short Album About Love, the humor is very subjective, and not every line's gonna land well, such as with the reliance on a few French stereotypes on "The Frog Princess". Plus, the album ends on a completely different note from the other songs, as "The Dogs & the Horses" is a rather melodramatic musing on death, accompanied by a large orchestral ensemble. I certainly liked it, but it did feel incongruent with the sexual nature of the preceding record.

At the end of the day, Casanova is another witty album from The Divine Comedy that I wound up enjoying.

It's been almost two years since I listened to A Northern Soul as part of my album journey, and I struggle to remember it. I do recall highlighting The Verve's follow-up, Urban Hymns, for more noteworthy hits. Obviously, "Bitter Sweet Symphony" still gets radio airplay today, but I also consider "The Drugs Don't Work" a wonderfully melancholic ballad with its reverbed pedal steel. With those two singles in mind, I went into Urban Hymns a bit more optimistic and was rewarded for listening to an extent.

I think the core identity of this record is in the shift in sound and songwriting, as a brief absence of guitarist Nick McCabe from the band forced frontman Richard Ashcroft to learn to write music. Thus, I got a sense of Richard's earnestness from these pleasant hook-driven ballads that boast such dynamics and rich arrangements, akin to "History" off of A Northern Soul, a song I recall enjoying. Songs like "Sonnet", "Catching the Butterfly", and "Weeping Willow" work wonders in capturing Richard's strife amidst drug-riddled despair, as eclectic guitar riffs, a tight rhythm section, and sweeping strings play alongside his impassioned vocal delivery and the lush, reverbed production. I especially dug the extended jam of "The Rolling People", complete with electrifying funkified guitar licks traded back and forth over a nice shuffle beat.

That said, I do feel this album runs a tad long at 75 minutes, as some moments could have been cut. Personally, I would have gotten rid of the formless ambiance of "Neon Wilderness" and the hidden track "Deep Freeze", as I feel they don't add much to the overall package.

Still, I had a good time with Urban Hymns, way more than I did with A Northern Soul. It goes to show the leaps and bounds that Richard Ashcroft made as a songwriter in that time.

I had to find the original recording of this album on YouTube because the 30th-anniversary revisited edition on streaming services is actually a re-recording, which is a bit intriguing considering Shaka Zulu was already a collection of newer recordings of their older hits.

I previously mentioned Ladysmith Black Mambazo for their contributions to Paul Simon's Graceland. That record and its subsequent tour introduced the South African acapella group to a global audience. In a good turn of faith, Paul would produce their next record, which would become their first US release through Warner Bros. Records. With all that established, how does Shaka Zulu hold up?

Honestly, surprisingly well. It is genuinely amazing the rhythmic patterns that can be created from just their harmonized voices as the collective worked their way through these spiritual chants. Whether it's the humming and ebbing refrain of "reveal yourself" on "King of Kings" or the more powerful oom-pahs that form a driving beat on "How Long", the isicathamiya singing style they employed proved to be very emphatic, and the mix was well done that I could hear individual lines. Granted, it did get a tad repetitive at times with the religious themes and song structures, which is why I can't say I was fully engaged throughout. But more often than not, I was genuinely vibing with this style.

There's not much else to say here, as I do consider Shak Zulu to be a solid a capella record. If anything, I'm glad that Ladysmith Black Mambazo got more recognition.

The Good, the Bad & the Queen was a supergroup that I'm not sure I've heard of before, but I'm guessing they were in the 1001 Albums books for a brief time because of the band members' pedigrees. Damon Albarn is well known for his time in Blur and Gorillaz. Paul Simonon was the bassist for The Clash. Simon Tong was the guitarist for The Verve during their Urban Hymns album cycle. Finally, Tony Allen served as drummer and musical director for Fela Kuti's Afrika '70 group. It seemed that the latter three had all come into contact with Damon at one point or another, and the group started to form naturally from there. So with such an eclectic group of musicians coming together for an album, produced by Danger Mouse no less, surely the results would be amazing, right? Well...

I'll be honest, I had the hardest time connecting with this record, and I can accept that it's just not for me. This is an art rock album conceptually themed around modern life in London, complete with references to the locale, political parties, and industrialization that took place there. I'm sure that for Damon, a lot of the changes that happened in his hometown had a profound impact on him and led to some earnest songwriting that needed an outlet separate from Blur and Gorillaz. But I'll admit, as someone who lives across the Atlantic and has never once been to London, it's hard for me to fully grasp his perspective outside of some painfully broad strokes. The tracks that resonated probably the closest were the doom of repeating mistakes on "History Song" and the environmental destruction outlined in "Green Fields," and that's largely it for me.

As for the actual music, it's fine enough around Damon's wispy vocal delivery, if not playing to the strengths of its individual members, given their previous projects. I can still pick out a few good basslines from Simonon, and Tony Allen's drumming is still solid, like with the shuffle beat on "Three Changes", and there's some nice subtle keyboard work from Damon and neat electronic flourishes from Danger Mouse. There's an overall laidback, folk-adjacent feel to a lot of these tracks in contrast with the more confrontational lyrics. I just can't help but look at what each of these gents had previously done and wish I were listening to their better output instead.

At the end of the day, The Good, the Bad & the Queen put out a fine enough record that probably resonated more with British music critics who were already into the group's individual members. They would put out one more record before disbanding in 2019, and I'm left feeling that I did not miss out on much.

I already covered the other two Beastie Boys records officially in the books, so going back to Licensed to Ill, it really feels like their first full-length hip hop effort after pivoting from hardcore punk.

The best way to view Licensed to Ill is as a frat party record. Three dudes from New York City goofing around as they rhymed over beats and guitars, live and sampled; it's as simple as that. Sure, the beats and sampling on this record aren't as creative or imaginative as they would be on later records, and some of the lyrics haven't aged well, particularly the joke lines on "Girls". But I can't deny that the vocal chemistry between Mike D, MCA, and Ad-Rock was defined well here, and that some genuinely fun tracks on here still hold up like "She's Crafty", "Paul Revere", "Hold It Now, Hold It", "Brass Monkey", and especially "No Sleep till Brooklyn" with that cool guitar solo from Slayer's Kerry King.

Overall, I consider Licensed to Ill to be a solid debut. The Beastie Boys would continue to grow and develop their sound, but at least this record showcased their potential.

Alice in Chains is one of the first bands I ever got into, thanks in part to "Them Bones" appearing on the Guitar Hero II soundtrack. They're one of the more notable bands to be associated with the Seattle grunge scene, even though their sound is more rooted in heavy metal. That much is apparent from listening to their 1992 magnum opus, Dirt.

Right from the get-go with the aforementioned "Them Bones", the sound is established with down-tuned, pummelling guitar riffs from Jerry Cantrell, equally heavy basslines from Mike Starr, pulse-pounding drums from Sean Kinney, and Layne Staley's soaring vocals. Layne even harmonized well with Jerry as they shared vocal duties across the record. It's a menacing sound while still maintaining a sense of melody, harkening back to the doom metal sound that Black Sabbath established decades prior, to the point where they even parody the opening of "Iron Man" on the "Untitled" track alongside Slayer vocalist Tom Araya. That said, they do dial back the energy occasionally to build an atmosphere, such as with the power ballad "Down in a Hole" or the slow-burning "Rooster".

It certainly helps that the band also touched upon a variety of subjects in the lyrics. While the Black Sabbath comparisons continue with songs that tackle drug addiction in a forewarning light on cuts like "God Smack" and "Junkhead", there's also facing the inevitability of death on "Them Bones", band infighting with "Dam That River", relationship turmoils on "Rain When I Die", the dedication from Jerry Cantrell to his then-girlfriend Courtney Clarke on "Down in a Hole", the equally heartfelt tribute to Jerry's father who served in the Vietnam War on "Rooster", finishing with the ultimate confrontation on "Would?" that also served as a tribute to the late Andrew Wood of Mother Love Bone. Jerry Cantrell's songwriting shone brilliantly on this album. Though not to be outdone, Layne Staley also did an excellent job with the harrowing anguish on "Hate to Feel" and the spiteful disgust at stagnation on "Angry Chair".

Dirt is an amazing record from front to back, where I found myself singing and jamming along to these tracks. It's a fun record despite the harrowing lyrics, proving Alice in Chains to be a household name.

Back in January, I remarked about how The Temptations' All Directions could be characterized by one impressive song surrounded by easy-listening filler. The same could be largely said for this earlier effort, Cloud Nine, which was their foray into psychedelic soul.

The first side of this record is pretty much the main attraction here. The opening title track is an impressive bop with the wah-wah guitars and driving beat, as the members exchange lyrics about the struggles of poverty. "Runway Child, Running Wild" is an equally striking nine-minute epic about a child running away from home and finding it difficult to survive on their own, only hampered by having the kid actually cry during the instrumental bridge, even if it is thematically appropriate. Rounding it out is a surprisingly good rendition of Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" that worked with the members' harmonized vocals.

As for the second side, again, it's easy-listening, largely inoffensive filler. Not a bad track per se, but aside from a smooth rendition of Lou Rawls's "Love Is a Hurtin' Thing", the rest can be chalked up to gooey, sentimental love songs that don't seem to offer anything as close to outstanding as the first half. Hell, even their take on Freddie Scott's "Hey Girl" reminded me way too much of The Temptations' earlier hit "My Girl". Between this record and All Directions, it feels very indicative of how Motown, under Barry Gordy's direction, could be distilled down to making an album out of one or two tracks. It's a practice that certainly worked, but limited what an album could be, at least until Stevie Wonder took creative control and changed the game.

Still, I had an alright time with Cloud Nine. The album may have peaked in the first half, but I still got a kick out of it.

I'd say the story of Marianne Faithfull is one marked by endurance. She was one of the leading female vocalists during the British Invasion of the 1960s, alongside roles in drama films, and even a publicized romance with Rolling Stones frontman Mick Jagger. Then things started crashing down. Her relationship with Jagger ended after she started an affair with someone else, and lost custody of her son in the midst of it. She retracted from the spotlight and succumbed to problems with heroin addiction, drug and alcohol abuse, and anorexia nervosa. Probably the most notable aspect of this was that after years of smoking, drinking, drug use, and severe laryngitis, Marianne's once melodic vocals became raspy, cracked, and lower in pitch. Gone was the innocence of the woman who once sang "As Tears Go By". She tried a comeback with the country-influenced Dreamin' My Dreams, but it was only a minor success. This was her make-or-break moment.

Fortunately, she started surrounding herself with help. She formed a partnership with songwriter Barry Reynolds and found a producer in Mark Munday, who offered her the break she needed. Mundy then suggested taking her music in a "more modern and electric" direction, bringing in Steve Winwood for keyboard duties. The resulting record was Broken English, a radical departure for Marianne as she embraced the burgeoning punk and new wave scenes.

I enjoyed this record, and it's admittedly surprising for me to say that. Obviously, because of the damage done to Marianne's voice, there are noticeable cracks in her performance that I wouldn't normally be into. But in this case, her fragile vocals made for a more world-weary perspective, reflecting not only on her own problems with addiction outlined on "Brain Drain" and her Catholic upbringing on "Guilt", but also observing the larger world. The musings on terrorists with the opening title track, the reckless abandon of "Witches' Song", and the passage of time on "What's the Hurry" are all presented with such jaded character over a palette of jerky rhythm guitars, supple bass, stiff percussion, and Steve Winwood's eerie keyboard playing, with occasional embellishments of violin and saxophone. Even the cover of Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show's "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan" sounds darker and twisted, offering a new interpretation that the woman struggling with mental health would get sent to a psychiatric hospital to get the help she needed, rather than falling off the edge of a building to her death like in the original.

Probably the most striking tracks for me were the two closing numbers. Marianne's take on John Lennon's "Working Class Hero" has much more conviction and frustration than John could muster on the original. That commitment to the performance further deepens on "Why'd Ya Do It", where her recitation of Heathcote Williams's outlandish poem over a heavy reggae backdrop is the kind of closing statement that makes a lasting impression.

Broken English is the kind of reinvention that's hard to achieve, yet Marianne Faithfull did just that against all odds.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the 1992 Plus reissue in this review.

When I first noticed Haircut 100 pop up on my radar for today's record, I figured this was going to be another 1980s new wave band that had one landmark record before something happened that caused their momentum to peter out. That certainly was the case for the longest time here, as vocalist and main songwriter Nick Heyward was dismissed from the group after struggling with stress and depression from a year of constant work and pressure. The band's follow-up record, Paint and Paint, was a commercial failure, and they split up soon after. But now, after multiple attempts at reunions with Nick, Haircut 100 are set to release their third album later this year. This sort of comeback had me curious if their debut, Pelican West, held up.

I will say that this album very much epitomizes the year 1982. The choppy, angular guitar riffs, Phil Smith's breezy saxophone playing, Marc Fox's laidback percussion work, and Nick's sultry vocal delivery. Pelican West as a whole boasts this tropical sophisti-pop feel, complete with brass embellishments and light incorporation of congas. Obviously, it's all cheesy and dated, right down to Nick's kooky, doe-eyed musings on life, love, and relationships in the lyrics. But I'll admit that I have a soft spot for this kind of cheesy music, and I can't deny how complex and bouncy the instrumentation can get on this record. Nick Heyward definitely has that fundamental understanding of pop sensibilities, and the rest of the band were willing to follow his direction.

In that regard, I consider Pelican West to be a solid debut. It's definitely got me curious how Haircut 100 is going to follow up over 40 years later.

As I stated previously, when I covered his nephew Ananda, Ravi Shankar was a classically trained sitar player who introduced Indian instrumentation to George Harrison. The Western fascination with raga elements in rock music during the 1960s began with this cultural exchange. So that was in my mind when I sat down to listen to The Sounds of India, and... it's fine?

Simply put, this album serves as an introduction to Hindustani classical music for a Western audience. In fact, Ravi outright explains the construction and performance of the music in between his interpretations of classical ragas. There's no denying that Ravi was skillful on the sitar, able to bend and stress the strings to his whims in such intriguing ascensions and descensions, alongside Chatur Lal's equally enjoyable tabla playing and N.C. Mullick's supportive tambura playing. Yet, I don't feel like I connect well with the framing of this record as merely an introduction to this style of music. If this were my first exposure to Indian music, I probably would have gotten some mileage out of it. But at this point in my journey, I've listened to a lot of Indian music from the likes of Shivkumar Sharma, R.D. Burman, Talvin Singh, and Ravi's own nephew Ananda. Getting an introduction to this music after so much exposure to it already feels a bit rudimentary to me.

At the end of the day, I accept the fact that Ravi Shankar left behind a legacy of sharing his home country's musical culture with the rest of the world, and The Sounds of India serves as an example of that exchange. If this is your introduction to Indian music, then that's cool. But again, I'm well past the point of introduction.

Ahh, yes, Bringing It All Back Home, the first album in Bob Dylan's rock pivot, and the controversy that followed. I've already covered the rest of that trilogy with Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde, alongside that live album that was misattributed to the Royal Albert Hall. So getting to this record now feels like coming back home, pardon the pun. It also helps that I heard "Subterranean Homesick Blues" and "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" from an American music history course I took in college. That all said, how does the rest of the album stack up?

With no surprise to me, Bringing It All Back Home is an amazing record, serving as the genesis of folk rock. Dylan not only continued with this witty commentary and defiant poetry to such a striking degree, particularly on cuts like "Maggie's Farm" and the subversive love story of "Love Minus Zero/No Limit", but the sound is bolstered by such tight compositions that combine the blues with his folk sensibilities. Delightful guitar licks and punchy drums accentuate the electric side remarkably well. Of course, not to be outdone is the acoustic side, where Dylan proved that he can still carry a tune on his own with the likes of the surrealist imagery of "Mr. Tambourine Man", the decadent worldbuilding of "Gates of Eden", the scatching critique of America's violent tendencies on "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)", and the decidedly vague melancholic close of "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue." Not one song felt overly drawn or out of place.

That's the magic of Bringing It All Back Home, as Dylan's poetry and penchant for experimenting with electric instrumentation led to a truly innovative experience that's held up well.