Reviews by abrisskull

Alright, last PJ Harvey record on my album journey, and I was curious what direction this one would take. As it turns out, this is rather simple to describe - Let England Shake is her anti-war album.

Having spent two-and-a-half years researching the history of conflict and trying to find the right words, PJ put forth a collection of songs that explores the many facets of armed conflict, including the preceding climate and aftermath. The beauty of this record is that, aside from the mentions of her country, England, and allusions to the 1915 Gallipoli campaign in the First World War, the themes explored are universal. There are the xenophobic sentiments expressed on "The Last Living Rose", the government's narrow-minded focus on warfare instead of other avenues like agriculture on "This Glorious Land", the failed diplomacy on "The Words That Maketh Murder", the disastrous mismanagement of soldiers carried out on "On Battleship Hill", the vain nationalism on "England", the loss of innocent life seen on "In the Dark Places", the thorny pervasiveness of military expansion into other territories on "Bitter Branches", the hasty retreat of civilians and refugees from wartorn cities on "Written on the Forehead", culminating in the grief over loved ones killed in action expressed on "The Colour of the Earth". The fact that so much of what PJ has described on this record can still be felt to this day is equal parts disturbing and poignant.

It certainly helped that this record is also just as catchy as PJ and company worked their way between jaunty tunes and somber ballads, with PJ's singing in her upper vocal register as the central focus. I genuinely appreciate how I could hear the contributions from John Parish, Mick Harvey, and Jean-Marc Butty, giving these songs a very communal feel as their backing vocals harmonized with PJ, all the while using a variety of instruments, such as the autoharp, zither, Rhodes piano, bass harmonica, and horns. Heck, I was even surprised by the incorporation of a few samples, including the "Regimental March" bugle call on "This Glorious Land" or the refrain and chorus from Niney the Observer's "Blood & Fire" expanded upon with "Written on the Forehead".

All in all, Let England Shake is such a strikingly potent record that holds nothing back, as PJ went into graphic detail on what armed conflict entails. Her words and performance certainly shook foundations.

I will not include the bonus tracks in this review.

I was surprised by the number of industry connections that were built into Neneh Cherry's upbringing. Her stepfather, Don, played saxophone for Ornette Coleman and raised a family full of musicians, including future one-hit wonder maker Eagle-Eye Cherry. They befriended members of Talking Heads while staying in Long Island City in Queens. She even met the Slits while Don was out touring with them, and that got to the point where she performed backing vocals with them for a brief stint. After performing in multiple bands and DJ'ing on a reggae pirate station, she decided to pursue a solo career. Raw Like Sushi would serve as her debut record.

From the get-go with "Buffalo Stance", it is apparent that this album came out in the late 1980s. The prominent drum machine, synthesizer programming, prevalent sampling, and turntable scratching will clue anyone in to that fact. Yet it is an undeniably catchy song with Neneh boasting a defiant attitude as she rapped and sang about getting by in the inner city, complete with a keyboard line that goes hard. That sentiment is true for the rest of the record, where Neneh came off as a fully-realized performer, sharing her stories of love, upbringing, and motherhood over a smattering of swaggering cuts like the salsa-infused "Kisses on the Wind" and the new jack swing of "Inner City Mama". Again, it's a tad dated and kitsch throughout, but I can't deny the strong hooks and underlying compositions with such a vocal talent in the forefront.

I can walk away saying that Neneh Cherry put out a solid debut in Raw Like Sushi. I'm glad she continued to see success into the 1990s and even saw a career resurgence in the 2010s. She really set out to make her name known.

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

I know I've listened to The Byrds before, as pioneers of folk rock, psychedelic rock, and country rock. I just hadn't listened to anything off this particular record until now. Younger Than Yesterday saw the band continue to dabble in psychedelia and jazz elements following their previous record, Fifth Dimension. Not to mention, the band and producer Gary Usher continued experimenting with textures such as brass instruments, reverse tape effects, and electronic oscillators. All of these efforts combine for an album that definitely saw The Byrds flex their musical creativity, even if The Beatles' influence was still apparent.

In fact, let's address the Beatles comparison right away - this album came out months after Revolver, and it shows in some of the song compositions and tape effects. Songs like "Have You Seen Her Face" and "Thoughts and Words" would have easily fit on a record like that. Plus, the opening number "So You Want to Be a Rock 'N' Roll Star" saw jazz legend Hugh Masekela contribute some poppy trumpet improvisation that reminded me of how Eddie Thornton, Ian Hamer, and Les Condon played trumpets on "Got to Get You Into My Life". They're not bad, but it's hard not to notice the clear influence that Revolver had on the development of psychedelic rock from such examples on here. Thankfully, The Byrds do enough toying around to not come off as full-on copies. They brought in saxophonist Jay Migliori for the eclectic medieval ballad of "Renaissance Fair", there's the pensive, jazz-influenced "Everybody's Been Burned", and Chris Hillman contributed the jaunty country-rock tunes "Time Between" and "The Girl With No Name", the latter of which would prove to be the band's next direction. Even their cover of Bob Dylan's "My Back Pages" proved to be strikingly good.

The only experiment that proved to falter was on "C.T.A.-102". I know that Jim McGuinn and his friend Bob Hippard were trying to write a serious song, wondering about the existence of extraterrestrial life. But it's severely undercut by the electronic oscillator effects, chipmunk vocals meant to represent aliens talking, and other such production techniques that come across like pandering to the stereotypical representation of aliens in popular media at the time.

Overall, Younger Than Yesterday is a solid psychedelic rock record that saw The Byrds do just enough to differentiate themselves and embrace new techniques.

Okay, this was a tricky album to find, because it's not available on typical streaming services. Even the versions I found on YouTube had a few tracks muted due to copyright issues. Therefore, I wound up listening to it on the Internet Archive, which I will provide the link here to copy and paste into your browser (https://archive.org/details/logical-progression). Anyway...

Daniel Andrew Williamson, better known by the moniker LTJ Bukem, was trained as a classical pianist until he discovered jazz fusion, and then pivoted to DJ work in the UK rave scene of the early 1990s. After experimenting with jungle and drum 'n' bass in his mixes, Bukem founded the label Good Label Records, specializing in the more jazz-influenced and atmospheric side of the genres. His works, alongside those of other artists in the drum 'n' bass and jungle community under his label, would see massive exposure through a series of compilations titled Logical Progression. This first one in the series would be considered a landmark album in the genre.

That all said, I might as well get the most glaring issue right out of the way - this album is long. Running at almost two and a half hours, it dwarfs Goldie's Timeless by comparison, and I already thought that record was long. Granted, I do appreciate the focus on vibrant ambient textures throughout, with occasional embellishments like the sounds of wildlife incorporated into Bukem's own "Demons Theme" or the slick, empowering rapping from MC Conrad's remix of PFM's "Western", or the sublime vocals against the watery synth backdrop of Seba & Lo-Tec's "So Long", or even that eerie saxophone motif that closes out Ils & Solo's "Solutions." It's worth crediting Bukem for arranging and mixing the tracks in such a manner that they seamlessly transition from one to the next for each disc. It certainly makes the experience pleasant to have in the background, whether raving at the club or working at the desk. But as far as a full listen for engagement, it's a tad difficult when, again, this album goes for so long with such a repetitive use of breakbeats and light textures, even if I do hear some variance.

At the end of the day, Logical Progression was an intriguing underground find to listen to. It's definitely worth taking a break between discs, although more power to you if you wish to listen through in one sitting. I can't deny how worthwhile this compilation was in gathering some genuine talent in such a niche genre.

It's been nearly a year and a half since I listened to Fear of a Black Planet, and my feelings on Public Enemy's follow-up record, Apocalypse 91... The Enemy Strikes Back, are more or less the same, albeit with some noticeable differences.

For one thing, the production is notably leaner, with a greater mixture of live instrumentation alongside the sampling. This was done out of necessity, as The Bomb Squad and other personnel rushed to recreate the music that was stolen from them. If anything, the backing instrumentation did surprisingly well in providing that necessary oomph to the backdrops, especially the hard-hitting percussion and blaring horns on tracks like "Can't Truss It" and "How to Kill a Radio Consultant". Of course, Terminator X still busts out on the turntables, while Chuck D and Flavor Flav continue to spit bars in addressing the prevailing issues with systemic racism in the United States. Probably the most striking of these songs are "Nighttrain" in calling out those within the black community who harm each other, "I Don't Wanna Be Called Yo N---" in addressing the pervasiveness of the derogatory word, "How to Kill a Radio Consultant" regarding the ownership and dissemination of black music on radio stations, and "By the Time I Get to Arizona" in highlighting how some people refused to recognize Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday as a national holiday. The fact that a lot of what they addressed then is still relevant today in this country is both poignant and depressing. Though that said, I did also appreciate when they reaffirmed their talent on the hard-hitting "Shut 'Em Down".

Yet, it's also apparent in places where this album was rushed, again likely due to the stolen material. Not only are there two different introduction tracks toward the beginning when they didn't need to have them, but they also tacked on at the end Anthrax's rendition of "Bring The Noise" from It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back. Now, as someone who does enjoy Anthrax, I dug the crossover thrash remix they did alongside Public Enemy, but it is vastly different from the preceding material on this record.

I also have to acknowledge that some lyrics did not age well, mainly with "A Letter to the New York Post". Now, I get the general conceit of that song was to address how disenfranchised black lives can be through salacious, negatively spun stories that certain media outlets would partake in. The problem is with Flavor Flav's opening verse, which not only puts a lampshade on how he was arrested for assaulting his then-girlfriend Karen Ross and losing custody of his kids, but instead of owning up to that mistake, he doubles down, making a baseless claim about actor James Cagney beating up a gay guy. Not only is this the wrong way to address one's personal problems, but it also makes Flavor Flav's homophobia apparent on record, leaving me with a sour taste.

Overall, I still consider Apocalypse 91 to be a solid golden-age hip hop record, despite some obvious shortcomings. There are a track or two I'd skip on repeat listens, but a lot of the songs on here ended up good and relevant.

I feel like, at some point, I heard the single "The Look of Love" on FM radio. ABC is one of those groups I don't think come up as often due to the sheer number of British pop bands that saw mainstream crossover to the US in the 1980s. When they do get brought up, it's usually when discussing their debut record, The Lexicon of Love, which many consider to be their best record, thus leaving me to believe that they never quite continued the momentum of success throughout the rest of the decade and beyond. They're certainly not the only case of a band peaking with their first album, and in any case, I was at least curious to hear what the rest of The Lexicon of Love sounded like.

Well, I do hear what ABC were going for at the time, which was the amalgamation of everything pop music was up to that point. The prominent syncopated basslines and four-on-the-floor beats of disco, the angular guitar riffs of new wave, the polished arrangements and synth incorporation from sophisti-pop, alongside a mix of programmed and organic percussion and sweeping brass and string instrumentation. Polished and refined with Trevor Horn's production, all of these elements provide some swaggering muscle to these compositions behind Martin Fry's blue-eyed soul vocal delivery. Sure, some sounds come off dated, such as the canned horn lines of "Tears Are Not Enough", the prominent synth of "Valentine's Day", and the gurgling, altered backing vocals on "4 Ever 2 Gether", but it is a genuinely catchy record overall.

As for the lyrical content, I'm admittedly more split. On the one hand, I get that Martin Fry's intent was novel in trying to write more eloquent songs of love and hate, compared to the more technology-themed synth-pop acts he was inspired by. Yet on the other hand, I feel that there were opportunities to go darker with the imagery. I feel I got hints of that edge from the depression endured on “Many Happy Returns” and the acceptance of the rejection on “Poison Arrow”. If more songs had that lyrical bite to them, I'd probably be enamoured. Also not helping matters was how perfunctory an ending "The Look of Love, Pt. 4" was; "4 Ever 2 Gether" could have been the satisfying conclusion.

Still, I did enjoy The Lexicon of Love as a well-defined debut from ABC. They may not have recaptured the same success, but at least this once, they had something truly potent in the works.

Ahh, the Ramones, one of the most influential bands in punk rock and its subculture. While there are plenty of acts in that first wave of punk, some of which I've covered and others to come in my album journey, it was the Ramones and their self-titled debut that proved integral to the genre's genesis and identity.

It all really boils down to a formula - fast, crunchy power-chord riffs from Johnny, equally catchy and prominent basslines from Dee Dee, punchy percussion from Tommy, and energetic vocals from Joey. It's loud, fast, and straight to the point, from the opening anthem "Blitzkrieg Bop", through fun cuts like "Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue" and "53rd & 3rd", to the very end with the lampooning of Nazis on "Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World". Is it rather simple? Yes, and that's kind of the point with punk rock; it's meant to be stripped-down with a do-it-yourself understanding. It certainly helped that the production sounds crisp and big, and the album is catchy in its bluntness, without overstaying its welcome at 29 minutes.

In fact, I don't think there's much else that needs to be said about the Ramones' self-titled debut. Many a punk band started on a record like this, and it's only a boon that it's held up well over five decades later.

I know I came across John Grant sometime in January of last year in my music discoveries, when I heard the single "GMF" from his second album, Pale Green Ghosts. A singer-songwriter from Buchanan, Michigan, he co-founded Denver-based alternative rock group The Czars. They enjoyed critical, if not commercial, success for a little over a decade before splitting up, with John taking a four-year hiatus doing odd jobs in New York City. At some point, he had a chance encounter with members of Texas-based folk rock group Midlake, who persuaded him to return to music. This led to the start of John's solo career, with Queen of Denmark as his debut, produced in collaboration with Midlake's own Paul Alexander and Eric Pulido.

Right out of the gate with "TC and Honeybear", the sound of this record is laid bare, with warm acoustic guitar textures, Paul's supple bass, McKenzie Smith's organic percussion, and John's sultry baritone delivery. There are additional embellishments throughout, such as the vocal harmonies, gentle piano touches, and string and flute arrangements, all working that baroque pop influence. It is a sonically gorgeous album to get lost in, but as with anything from a singer-songwriter, the most notable aspect to digest is the lyrical content.

Boy, does John give me a lot to reflect on and ponder with his words. Queen of Denmark is a deeply personal record, with some cynical humor and wit to give it that edge. Certainly familiar territory for someone like me who's listened to the likes of Father John Misty and Sturgill Simpson; John Grant fits in that lane. The melancholic longing for childhood innocence is juxtaposed with all the references to candy and sweets on "Marz", the futile efforts to mold a romantic interest into someone they aren't on "Where Dreams Go to Die", the comparisons he draws from female protagonists in films on "Sigourney Weaver", his self-awareness in the pursuit of becoming this idealized masculine person on "Silver Platter Club", there are a lot of songs like these where he comes off toeing the line between genuine earnest contemplations and coy, tongue-in-cheek playfulness. There were some points where I couldn't help but laugh at some of the zingers, like with the choruses of "Sigourney Weaver" that point out some of the absurdities in the writing and acting for the Aliens and Bram Stoker's Dracula films, or "Chicken Bones," which elevates a mundane daily morning routine with lines like "I'm about to explode, just like a Wonderbread bomb" and "You'd better watch out sugar/Cause I'm about to get my Old Spice on." I was certainly on board with the record by this point.

Which brings me to the song that I've wrestled with the most, and that's "Jesus Hates F-----s". For context, I'm a straight guy, but I do have friends and family who are of different sexual orientations, so I hate it when people get disrespectful to others because of that difference. In particular, I have a disdain for a particular f-word that carries a negative connotation towards gay people, which has come up in multiple albums in my journey. All that said, John Grant is actually gay, which is something that could be picked up on from understanding his words in songs like "Sigourney Weaver" and "Silver Platter Club". If anything, this song here pretty much illustrates the issues that he saw growing up in a Christian household that doesn't tolerate, as he points out how easy it is to twist and bend those teachings to marginalize anything. It's only in the final chorus where John makes it abundantly clear how that religion has been used to discriminate and persecute those who are different, including that f-word and also the n-word, which is certainly a choice for a white guy to try and pull off in 2010. But in any case, his point is direct, and it is an uncomfortable listen that got me thinking, which I consider to be a success at the end of the day. From there, the album further reinforces John's sense of self-discovery with the tender ballad "Caramel" and the strife in overcoming a breakup on the piano-driven "Leopard and Lamb", closing out with the bombastic questioning and self-deprecation on the title track.

Honestly, I was not expecting a record this profound. Queen of Denmark certainly cements John Grant as another amazing singer-songwriter that I should be paying attention to more.

Holy crap, after several live albums from the vinyl era, I found one that has the FULL performance, no cuts or editing trickery needed! Even better, it's from the Godfather of Soul, James Brown, backed by his old vocal group, The Famous Flames. Financed out of his own pocket, James Brown's live performance at the Apollo Theatre proved to be a stroke of success, probably because of how well the energy translated to the recording.

From the elaborate introduction by the MC to the rapid-fire intensity in which Brown and the backing personnel ran through the early hits like "Try Me" and "Think", complete with braggadocious instrumental bridges between the songs, it is quite the spectacle they put on. It all culminates in the centerpiece that is the nearly eleven-minute rendition of "Lost Someone", where Brown sold every note and bar of that song with the utmost conviction while teasing the audience along the way. From there, the show closes with a swaggering medley of tunes, followed by the eruptive bounce of Brown's take on Jimmy Forrest's "Night Train", as the audience ate it up. The only aspect of the show I would be missing is seeing James Brown vigorously dancing, but there's only so much you can pack into a vinyl record.

Live at the Apollo is a bona fide classic live album, and there's not much else needed to say here.

For those who don't know, The Incredible String Band was a Scottish psychedelic folk group founded by songwriters and multi-instrumentalists Robin Williamson, Mike Heron, and Clive Palmer, though the latter left the band early on. They are considered pioneers of the genre, alongside the development of world music and the British 1960s counterculture. In fact, this third record of theirs, The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter, proved influential on the direction of Led Zeppelin's self-titled debut. So already, the historical and cultural significance of this band and this record has been laid bare. How does it all hold up?

Well... It's definitely a psychedelic folk album, that much is apparent. I apologize if that's not much of a statement for or against this record, but I'm realizing after getting a couple of records in this genre that it might not be my thing. I wouldn't say anything on this album is played badly, as the musical prowess of Williamson, Heron, and the rest of the session personnel is well illustrated across a variety of instruments. The guitar playing from the main duo serves as a nice anchor for these compositions, which are further embellished by harpsichord, Hammond organ, sitar, and so on. Plus, Williamson and Heron themselves have soft, reasonably good vocal deliveries for their respective penned tunes.

Yet, by the same token, I don't feel like I connect well with how these songs are largely ramblings on mythology, religion, and general mysticism and esotericism, applied loosely to a modern context. We run through the likes of minotaurs, witches, wizards, and all manner of mythical beings and fables riddled with mystique and obfuscation for the sake of it. Hell, the centerpiece of this record, the 13-minute stop-and-go of "A Very Cellular Song", is all about personifying an amoeba, with an entire passage describing the process of mitosis as making a new friend for the cell. It certainly makes me wonder how many drugs were partaken during the writing of this record, cause it is bonkers at the cost of focus as these tracks seem to wander. Again, I don't hate it, but I feel indifferent to these meandering tales of whimsy.

I can recognize the cultural and historical significance of The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter and The Incredible String Band in general, and there is some artistic merit to it. But I'll admit that I'm not certain about listening to this record again anytime soon.

I've never heard of Keith Jarrett before, which made it all the more intriguing to learn about him. A child prodigy, he was playing piano before he turned three, and by age seven, he was playing both classical works and original compositions. While he grew up learning classical piano, he grew to love contemporary jazz after seeing Dave Brubeck perform. This interest led him to turn down an invitation to study classical composition in Paris to attend Berklee College of Music instead. After playing at cocktail bars in Boston clubs, he moved on to The Jazz Messengers, the Charles Lloyd Quartet, Miles Davis' group by the end of the 1960s, and even started his own groups before pursuing a solo piano career. Keith reached the point where he performed totally improvised solo concerts, including one in Cologne, Germany, in January 1975.

Now, this particular concert was marked by some adversity. It was organized by an 18-year-old Vera Brandes, who was Germany's youngest concert promoter at the time, trying to bring more jazz into her home country. The Köln Opera House only allowed for an 11:30 pm time slot for the concert on a Friday night, following an earlier opera performance. Keith had come to the opera house late in the afternoon, exhausted from several sleepless nights, only to find that the grand piano he had requested for the concert didn't arrive. Instead, a baby grand piano was delivered, and there was no time to get a replacement. Jarrett was ready to give up playing for the night, but Brandes was able to convince him to go on with the show. He did recognize that the concert was sold out and the recording equipment was largely set up, so on he went. What transpired that night was something truly spellbinding, at least from what I heard over fifty years later.

The Köln Concert is divided into two parts, with Jarrett vamping over a few chords for prolonged periods of time. Technically, Part II was divided up into three sections due to the technical limitations of vinyl at the time, but it's largely forgivable, as one would expect to listen to the performance in full anyway. I think what set Keith apart from other piano players was his ability to play complex ostinatos, or repeated musical patterns, on his left hand, while simultaneously improvising with his right hand, without ever dropping a beat. This guy went hard to make that baby grand piano sound stronger than it normally would have, for minutes on end. I just get lost in how he came up with so many distinct movements on the spot, covering a wide range of emotion and bombast, never letting up. I didn't even mind it when Keith could be heard hooping and hollering on the recording, cause it seemed indicative of how into the performance he was. The audience was certainly into it every time he finished a part.

The Köln Concert is such a shining illustration of facing any number of obstacles with true perseverance. Keith Jarrett would continue to perform until he lost the ability to play with his left hand in 2018. Of course, by that point, his legacy had been set as one of the most revered pianists to have ever graced this world, with this concert performance as a prime example of what he accomplished against all odds.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the expanded edition in this review.

About half a year ago, I talked about how singer-songwriter Emmylou Harris worked with Gram Parsons on his solo career up until his tragic passing. Well, Emmylou decided to continue in Gram's legacy with her own solo career. Pieces of the Sky serves as her major-label debut, and I consider it to be a solid effort, for what it's worth.

Emmylou has a very distinct soprano delivery that feels both delicate and resilient, as her country performance seems to take more cues from folk rock. Thus, she carried a very charismatic spirit through upbeat tunes like "Bluebird Wine" and slow-burning ballads like "Too Far Gone". Probably the most notable track on his record is "Boulder to Birmingham", a song she penned in tribute to Gram, as she ruminated on the feelings she was experiencing from his untimely passing. It is a genuinely moving piece as Emmylou illustrated the lengths she would go to see him again. This is some very promising songwriting from her on this track.

Unfortunately, "Boulder to Birmingham" is the only track on which Emmylou had a songwriting credit. The rest of this album saw her perform songs from other songwriters and artists around her, including The Louvin Brothers with "If I Could Only Win Your Love", Merle Haggard with "The Bottle Let Me Down", The Everly Brothers with "Sleepless Nights", The Beatles with "For No One", and, in particular, her contemporary and future collaborator Dolly Parton with "Coat of Many Colors". Emmylou did her best performing her renditions of these songs to showcase her range. I just don't find them as transformative compared to the original works, that's all.

Still, I enjoyed Pieces of the Sky for establishing a country singer-songwriter in the making. If anything, I'm glad she continued in her friend's legacy and forged her path.

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

I've heard of Tangerine Dream, having listened to some of their songs as they appeared in the show Stranger Things. They are a long-running German electronic music group founded by Edgar Froese, who was the leader and sole constant member up until his passing back in 2015. Their recorded output is enormous in scope - over a hundred studio albums, live albums, even soundtracks for films and video games. The most fruitful of these records would be their mid-1970s run with Froese, Christopher Franke, and Peter Baumann, when the band was signed to Virgin Records. Phaedra would mark the beginning of Tangerine Dream's international success, and I can see why.

This album is immaculate; a rich, dense blend of atmospheric textures constructed from multiple synthesizers and organs, complete with Edgar's driving Moog sequencer and even some lush recorder playing from Peter that nestles its way into the mix. This music makes me feel like I'm drifting into the cosmos. It is astounding how these gentlemen were able to keep this ambient music thoroughly engaging throughout multiple extended tracks, particularly the title track, which went on for so long that they had to improvise as the oscillators detuned in real time. It must take a good deal of skill and craftsmanship to adapt on the spot and still make the piece awe-inspiring. "Mysterious Semblance at the Strand of Nightmares" ebbs and swells, as if the synth chords were mimicking a string arrangement, with the sonic whooshes coming and going. "Movements of a Visionary" features from bustling sequencers that creak and screech, evoking an almost extraterrestrial quality. As for the closer "Sequent 'C'", it closes the record on a very ethereal note, as the recorder is echoed and reverbed into this airy send-off.

It was admittedly hard to describe, but Phaedra is such a gorgeous ambient synth record. It does feel weird to see Tangerine Dream still going without any of the members from this classic lineup, but in any case, they've already cemented their legacy with albums like this.

I'll admit that I only heard one other Silver Jews song over a year and a half ago, being "Random Rules" off of American Water. They were an indie rock band from Hoboken that employed elements of country music in their sound, with frontman and lyricist David Berman as the sole constant member until their breakup. I'm not sure why their fourth album, Bright Flight, was chosen for the books, but after giving it a listen, I feel this was a hauntingly depressing record.

Much like Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen before him, David Berman was more of a poet than a singer, drawing upon his dim observations of life with lyrical prose and dry wit over a warm country-rock tone. His musings on themes such as death, claustrophobia, and hesitation were presented with such a longing manner, as if staring out into the horizon with all the years of wisdom weighing upon him, only broken up by the instrumental "Transylvania Blues", the upbeat "Let's Not and Say We Did", and the cover of George Strait's "Friday Night Fever". Granted, I did cringe at some corny dad jokes David threw in here and there, such as the hook on "Tennessee" or the "water doesn't give a damn" line that closed "Horseleg Swatstikas". Also, I did not consider him a gripping singer compared to his contemporary Bill Callahan, or even compared to his then-wife Cassie on a few tracks like "Slow Education" and "Tennessee". Yet, I cannot deny there was something genuinely potent in his restrained delivery, probably most notable in how he described the lead-up to his marriage on "I Remember Me", as well as the ode to a fallen friend on "Death of an Heir of Sorrows".

Overall, I consider Bright Flight to be a solid poetic record. Of course, as I mentioned, Silver Jews broke up, and David Berman later hung himself back in 2019. All's to say that it feels like there was more going on under the surface with David, as he must have endured so much pain for his art. Rest in peace.

A long time ago, I mentioned how manager Malcolm McLaren was involved in the formation of the Sex Pistols. As it turns out, that's not all. He also managed the likes of the New York Dolls, Adam and the Ants, and Bow Wow Wow, albeit rather poorly for all of them. Not only that, but he also decided to pursue a solo career, with Duck Rock as his debut. After managing multiple acts, did he fare well on his own? Well, not exactly.

This album is admittedly tricky to discuss, given how wildly inconsistent in tone and style it is. It is a true hodgepodge of different sounds and genres attempted, including hip hop, mbaqanga, merengue, Afropop, new wave, synthpop, and closing out with the country pastiche of "Duck for the Oyster". Along the way, clips from the short-lived hip hop radio show The World's Famous Supreme Team are interspersed between tracks, making for one of the loosest framing devices I've heard in a while.

As for McLaren himself, while he is vocally present throughout the record, his role could best be described as a hype man, supporting the musicians he assembled with exclamations and ad-libs, save for a few instrumentals like "Legba" and "Song for Chango". I won't deny that McLaren assembled a good cast of musicians for exposing a lot of hip hop and world music to a wider audience in the U.K., even if he didn't fully acknowledge all of the artists he brought in, like the uncredited mbaqaanga vocal group Mahlathini and the Mahotella Queens on tracks like "Double Dutch" and "Jive My Baby". But I also find McLaren to be an obnoxious presence on his own record, taking these various stylings and dating them with some truly cringeworthy dialogue, be it the attempts at dance routines on "Buffalo Gals" and "Soweto", or having to remind the audience that he founded the Sex Pistols on "Punk It Up". Not to mention, his presence is redundant, as The World's Famous Supreme Team, whom McLaren invited for this record, was already a reasonable hype duo present throughout, and weren't nearly as aggravating a vocal presence.

All's to say that I felt Malcolm McLaren got in the way of his own world music/hip-hop novelty crossover record. While I was generally fine with the individual stylings offered on Duck Rock, it's a tonally inconsistent record, curated by a man who seemed to revel in the cheapening of these sounds.

On some level, if the 1001 Albums books were going to touch upon nu metal, then Korn, as one of the biggest bands to come out of that genre, was bound to be mentioned. I can see the logic in them picking the album that launched the group into mainstream success, off singles like "Freak on a Leash" and "Got the Life". In fact, there are more enjoyable songs than just those two. The opening run from "It's On!" to "Dead Bodies Everywhere" was some of the most energetic, hard-hitting grooves I heard in a while, buoyed by Fieldy's thick bass slaps, Munky and Brian "Head" Welch's crunchy guitar riffs, David Silveria's pulse-pounding drums, and Jonathan Davis's harsh tenor with such truly guttural scat-singing. That momentum also carries into later cuts like "B.B.K." and "Reclaim My Place", and even with Jon breaking out the bagpipes for "My Gift For You". There are even some heartfelt moments to be found, like the tribute to a fallen fan on "Justin" or the unfeathered beauty Jon saw in his newborn son on "Seed", even if I'm not as into the pitch-shifted vocals during the scat breakdown of that track. There are points where Follow the Leader was on the cusp of being a solid record.

But man, we have to talk about the guest features. It is amazing how the only guest collab that I genuinely enjoyed was Cheech Marin sharing the mic with the band for a goofy nu metal rendition of Cheech & Chong's "Earache My Eye", and that was a hidden track. The actual marketed collaborations don't come close to being as fun or listenable as that. "Cameltosis" with Slimkid3 aka Tre of The Pharcyde was underwhelming in highlighting Jon's struggles to find love after being scarred by a previous relationship. "Children of the Korn” with Ice Cube ended up as an ill-conceived rally anthem for Gen X that couldn't bother to blend the rap and metal sides seamlessly. But probably the worst of all is "All in the Family", where Jon has a staged tongue-in-cheek rap battle with Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit that proved awkward for its time and has horribly aged. In fact, the songs with Ice Cube and Fred Durst are littered with Jonathan calling gay slurs in jest. Considering the man was bullied in high school and called such derogatory names, as brought up in earlier records, for him to use those same words like that is just the wrong lesson to take from that experience.

Follow the Leader is truly an album of peaks and valleys. I get that this album and its singles put Korn on the map, but not all of it has aged well or feels truly representative of what this band is capable of.

I feel like the sentiment of nostalgia will hit everyone at one point or another. I've certainly made mention of when an album or a song on my journey has brought back memories, and this is no different with the singles off of MGMT's debut. I distinctly remember "Time to Pretend" and "Kids" being everywhere in the late 2000s, which, for me, was a time of reaching adolescence, a very formative stage of growth and development that I think a lot of people can relate to. So naturally, I still enjoy those songs to this day, along with "Electric Feel," which I discovered earlier this year. That said, how does the rest of Oracular Spectacular stack up?

Well, let me state that there are other strong songs besides the singles. The folk haze of "Weekend Wars", the Middle Eastern vibes of the polyrhythmic percussion and synth bounce of "4th Dimensional Transition", the Bowie-esque acoustic strum of "Pieces of What", and the frenetic psychedelic rock of "Of Moons, Birds & Monsters" turned out to be great bops. Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser do their best to combine upbeat melodies with darker lyrics and themes throughout the record. It's a formula that has stuck with the band throughout their sonic evolution, and it certainly works, albeit with diminishing returns in replay value. At the very least, Dave Fridmann did his best to make the most of it, modulating between blown-out, compressed production and cleaner, atmospheric soundscapes.

That said, I cannot deny that this album feels front-loaded. Once "Kids" is done, there is a noticeable switch to more progressive psychedelic flourishes than the more marketable synthpop of the first half, and I don't find it as compelling. I wouldn't call it bad so much as the band getting lost within the weird textures and ideas they wish to explore. It would be nice to strike a greater balance between that exploration and maintaining the hooks, that's all.

Still, I had a good time listening to Oracular Spectacular. As I mentioned, MGMT's sound would continue to evolve over the years, while still retaining some core elements to their songwriting. In a way, their debut does meaningfully set the tone for what's to come from them.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the 1999 CD reissue in this review.

If you're familiar with Nirvana, then you're likely also familiar with Meat Puppets. This psychedelic cowpunk outfit would prove to be influential to many alternative and grunge artists. In the case of Nirvana, it was to the point where Curt and Kris Kirkwood were invited to perform songs from this album with them for their MTV Unplugged performance. After giving Meat Puppets II a spin, I can hear the influence they had on those later bands.

This is a pretty manic country punk record, this side of the Gun Club. Opening up with the rapid-fire flurries of "Split Myself in Two" and "Magic Toy Missing", I can make out some cool twangy guitar licks from Curt alongside the tight rhythm section of Cris and Derrick Bostrom. Pair that with Curt's shaky vocal ramblings dealing with trepidation and self-discovery, and the resulting sound of this album feels very timely for the alternative acts that would follow. Sure, the lo-fi production made some songs lack a certain punch, and I wasn't much into the repetitive "New Gods" or the closing track "The Whistling Song", but it's amazing how much craftsmanship they fit into such a tight package. Obvious highlights are the songs Nirvana would later cover with them, like "Plateau" and "Lake of Fire", but I also dug the atmospheric exploration of the instrumental "Aurora Borealis", the straightforward country tune "Climbing", and the acid-drenched angst of "Lost".

Overall, Meat Puppets II is a solid record; a stylistic shift for the band that proved substantial.

I will not include the additional versions of tracks on the special edition in this review.

For those who don't know, Willie Colón was an American trombonist, producer, arranger, and musical director, while Rubén Blades is a Panamanian singer, musician, and composer. Both artists are considered integral to salsa music, a staple of Hispanic American culture. Both artists also collaborated over multiple records, with Siembra being their second outing together, and nearly every song becoming a hit across Latin American communities. As someone who is admittedly not very familiar with salsa, I dug this record.

There is a quite danceable polyrhythmic groove to these songs, as the chorus ensemble harmonized well under Rubén's delightfully jovial vocal delivery alongside the booming trombones. It's a formula that works its magic, with a few swerves like that commanding bassline that opens "Plástico" and the ominous march that leads into "María Lionza". I wouldn't say it's the most enticing dance music to me personally, but that doesn't stop the lower half of my body from moving to those clave rhythms.

As for the lyrical content, I certainly commend Rubén for bookending this record with some genuinely charged political commentary. "Plástico" serves as a backhanded compliment to those who take advantage in a capitalist society, and the title track as a rally call for Latin American identity, in particular shouting out Ramón Emeterio Betances, who strove for Puerto Rico's independence and greater political integration in the Caribbean and Latin America. I also appreciated the cautionary tale of "Pedro Navaja," which certainly took inspiration from the classic "Mack the Knife". Otherwise, the rest of the album can be chalked up to songs of romantic affection and yearning with a distinct Latin flavor. They're not bad, but I wouldn't say they stand out compared to the songs I've already highlighted.

Overall, I enjoyed Siembra for what it is, a collaborative album between two artists that helped bring salsa music to greater global significance.

I don't think Blondie needs much introduction as one of the pioneering bands of the American new wave scene. They still get plenty of airplay on the radio these days, including "One Way or Another" and "Heart of Glass" off this record. I was just looking for a good time spinning Parallel Lines and ended up really digging this.

I think credit should be due first and foremost to producer Mike Chapman. Not only does this album have such a glossy pop sheen, but from what I'm reading, he did a lot of behind-the-scenes work to strengthen the band's songwriting and musical chops. That much is evident from the start with the rendition of the Nerves' "Hanging on the Telephone" into "One Way or Another" and "Picture This", as the guitar riffs popped off brilliantly alongside the tightened rhythm section, squelching keyboards, and Debbie Harry's powerful vocal delivery nestled with the harmonies. The fact that they maintained this quality throughout the whole run, even into swerves like the ominous keyboard-led slowburn of "Fade Away and Radiate", the fast-paced swing of "11:59", and the disco flourish of "Heart of Glass", is genuinely impressive alongside the lyrics of fervent reckless abandon as the pursuit of passion proved futile. Even the cover of Buddy Holly's "I'm Gonna Love You Too" fits right at home here with its own tale of a thinly veiled heartbreak. The guts finally spill on the floor with the closing track "Just Go Away", as the guitar wah on the hook accentuates the emotional ache.

Parallel Lines is simply an amazing record, as the band and their producer came together to smash through with their particularly edgy power pop sound.