Reviews by abrisskull

It should be noted that later releases of this record replace the original version of "Getcha Groove On" with the "Dirt Road Mix" version from their New Old Songs remix album, due to sample clearance issues.

I'll be honest, I did not have an "angry white boy" phase growing up, and I attribute that to the generational gap. I was four years old when Limp Bizkit saw their mainstream breakthrough with Significant Other, followed by even more publicity for taking the heat with what happened at Woodstock '99, albeit unfairly. By the time I reached an adolescent age and formally got into rock and metal music, the band went on hiatus as the first wave of nu metal had died off. Then, by the time they came back with Gold Cobra, I was already into nu metal acts that had more longevity than them, some of which were also included in the 1001 Albums books and will be addressed later in my journey. Suffice it to say, I didn't have much in the way of nostalgia or expectations for Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water, an album in which the band sought to capitalize on their then-recent attention. So after giving this album a listen, I can comfortably say that it's not good.

But before I get too deep into why I don't like it, I want to at least mention the elements of this record that keep it from being outright terrible. In particular, the instrumentation on this record was rather decent. There's a solid beat from John Otto on some of these tracks, Wes Borland seems to be an underrated guitarist, and the sampling and record-scratching from DJ Lethal was reasonably good outside of the egregious flip of the Eagles' "Life in the Fast Lane" on "Livin' It Up". Probably the most notable example on here from an instrumental standpoint is "Take a Look Around", which is pretty much a nu-metal rendition of Lalo Schifrin's theme for the Mission: Impossible franchise, but I can also appreciate the few attempts at atmosphere building on "The One" and "Hold On". Couple the instrumentation with solid production from Terry Date, and this makes for a reasonable foundation for a competent rapper or singer to jump on. Of course, if you know this band, you know exactly where I'm going with this...

Let's talk about Fred Durst. Now, it's not new for a decent band to be hampered by their frontman; I've seen it happen multiple times on my album journey thus far. But Fred Durst certainly did his best to make an impression. You know exactly what you're getting into from the get-go with "Hot Dog", where he takes some gleeful pride in dropping an f-bomb or two in every line of his verses while taking the cheapest of pot shots at Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor, though Trent does get the last laugh by getting a sampling credit. At best, Fred's lyrics and performance are meme-able, as is the case with most of the singles. At worst, they're some of the most egregious whinging and lame duck non-rhyming from a man who seems to want to put up a front to hide his insecurities. Even for what should have been a more serious song with "Boiler", he can't help but take me out of it with such mindless nagging and talking about "crawling up your butt". Similar case with "It'll Be OK", where it's admittedly hard to accept him trying to move on from a toxic relationship. The only reprieves I have from Fred Durst's faux-rapping getting in the way are "The One" and "Hold On", where he takes on a more limited singing role, and "Take a Look Around," which, again, is the Mission: Impossible theme. You'd have to try really hard to make me hate that rendition.

Oh, but it doesn't stop here, for Fred Durst also can't help but flaunt the industry connections that he built up. Not only does Scott Weiland from Stone Temple Pilots show up to duet on "Hold On" and prove to be a better singer than Fred, but Xzibit on "Getcha Groove On", and DMX, Redman, and Method Man on "Rollin' (Urban Assault Vehicle)" all proved to be better rappers than Fred, and they weren't even trying that hard. Also, I may have buried the lede here, but there are two versions of "Rollin'" on this album when there didn't need to be. Of course, if you want a more notable example of how needlessly long this album is, check out the nearly ten-minute outro track. It starts with the robot voice from the intro track signing off, followed by comedian/actor Ben Stiller making attempts at humor on Fred Durst in the studio. This is then followed by three goddamn minutes of looping on Ben Stiller laughing, then a phone call between Fred and Third Eye Blind frontman Stephan Jenkins, and we finally wrap it up with two voicemails from skateboarding/TV personality Rob Dyrdek and actor Mark Wahlberg.

I don't think I need to elaborate any more than I need to. I did not enjoy Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. I may not have that much vitriol for Limp Bizkit these days, as they've largely mellowed out and firmly established themselves as a nostalgia act for the festival circuits. I also know this is not the worst album in their discography, as that would be the next record, Results May Vary, which doesn't have the luxury of Wes Borland on guitar. But I cannot in good conscience say this album has aged well.

I will not include the bonus tracks from the 2021 remaster in this review.

Ahh, yes, the first album with Elvis Costello's backing band, The Attractions. If there were ever a Costello record that I was most looking forward to, it would be the one featuring the hit "Pump It Up", the very first of his tracks I heard on the soundtrack for Rock Band 2. With that said, how does This Year's Model hold up?

I will be honest, this is the first Costello record on my album journey that I immediately fell in love with. From the get-go with "No Action", this album boasted hooks for days. It's clear that Elvis & the Attractions took inspiration from their favorite 60s artists, while also embracing new wave elements and even a bit of punk energy in the instrumental compositions. Steve Nieve's bright keyboard playing helped accentuate Elvis's tasteful guitar licks, bolstered by an impeccable rhythm section from Bruce and Pete Thomas. It certainly helped that Nick Lowe did a stellar production job, making every note pop with such crisp quality.

Along the way, Elvis wrung out some strikingly visual and nervously riddled lyrics. From describing his faltering relationship as cold and distant over the phone on "No Action", to the dark, abusive nature of the fashion and media industries on "This Year's Girl" and "(I Don't Want to Go to) Chelsea", to the uncertainties in adolescence and early manhood explored on "The Beat", to the full-on sexual frustration on "Pump It Up", "Little Triggers", and "Lip Service", to the anecdote of two lovers going straight to hell together on "Hand in Hand", to the soul-crushing corruption of self on "Living in Paradise", Elvis managed to infuse these tales of vicious disillusion with some delightfully spiteful wit and double entendres. Probably the hardest-hitting track comes at the very end with "Night Rally", where Elvis calls out fascism and other such movements that goad people to target and dehumanize those who are different or don't follow along. The abrupt ending sent chills down my spine.

I don't have much to say, cause This Year's Model is an astounding record, not only cementing Elvis Costello as an ingenious singer-songwriter, but also establishing one of the most noteworthy backing bands in rock history.

This is the fourth Radiohead album on my journey. Some time after touring for Amnesiac, the band went to work on their next record, recording in Hollywood over two weeks. There was a consensus to return to the more guitar-driven work of their earlier releases, while still incorporating the electronic elements of Kid A and Amnesiac. The other aspect of this album would be Thom Yorke's observations of the discourse around the war on terror, not necessarily making a political statement, so much as letting it all in. What came out would be known as Hail to the Thief.

Let me get the common criticisms out of the way and address them, cause otherwise they're gonna haunt me for the rest of the review. The general complaints regarding Hail to the Thief are that it's too long and that several ideas on this record are underdeveloped. Even the band itself felt that the record was unfinished and could have been edited down. The closest I will ever come to agreeing with those detractors is that I do find "I Will" rather short at just under two minutes. Yet even those two minutes are some of the most spiteful writing Thom Yorke has ever done, after seeing news footage of a bomb shelter full of families and children destroyed in the Gulf War.

In fact, let's ponder on this some more - what songs would people really want cut from this tracklist? Because I've seen Thom Yorke's alternative tracklisting five years after Hail to the Thief came out. As someone who just defended "I Will", and will also stick up for the equally vindictive "A Punchup at the Wedding", the feelings of discomfort with seeing the world regress on the electronic loop of "Backdrifts", and the gloomy spiritual tune of "We Suck Young Blood" that neatly satirizes celebrity culture, I can't fathom what tracks would be even considered for the cutting floor.

If anything, this album continues to become even more relevant with the continued prevalence of fascist ideology in the world, and the feelings of dread and anxiety in dealing with it all. Sure, it can make for a moody listen, but poignant, as the band never shied away from confronting those fears and temptations head-on. All the while, the instrumental compositions managed to be just as enticing, including the crescendoing hard-hitting opener "2 + 2 = 5", the lush piano ballad "Sail to the Moon", the acoustic jaunt of "Go to Sleep", the driving layered percussion of "There, There", and that delicious fuzzy bassline on "Myxomatosis". It all culminates with the sinister spoken word of "A Wolf at the Door", as Thom vents about his frustrations with a capitalist society over a vibrant string-synth-led arrangement.

I do feel that Hail to the Thief holds up remarkably well in Radiohead's catalog, despite any frustrations that the band and their audience may have endured. It may be a loaded album, but I would not leave a single track behind.

I've accepted at this point that with most of these live albums from the vinyl era, there are bound to be limitations, such as not having the full set from the performances. I've also accepted that the Grateful Dead are known for their long, sprawling, improvisational jams. With all that in mind, how did I feel after listening to their first live record, Live/Dead?

Well, let me start by saying this record started strong. The 23-minute noodling fest of "Dark Star" was something to behold, as the band effortlessly swayed through several musical passages with the occasional feedback noise, engaging all the way through. From there, the psychedelic sweep of "St. Stephen," with Tom Constanten's prominent organ embellishments, was an intoxicating delight, and "The Eleven" was an instrumental behemoth in 11/8 time. It's evident that the band had fine-tuned this opening medley of songs by this point. Even their blues covers of Bobby Bland's "Turn On Your Love Light" and Blind Gary Davis's "Death Don't Have Mercy" were fleshed out into these eclectic, masterful jams that justify their extended runtimes. I figured I was fully invested in the album by this point.

But then, there was "Feedback", a nearly eight-minute formless feedback loop. Now, I'm not against the notion of feedback incorporated into the music, as I've pointed out earlier on this very record. Hell, as someone who's come to appreciate noise rock, I can appreciate it when it accentuates an underlying groove or melody. But here, there isn't much of a foundation for the noise to go off of, outside of some occasional improvisational organ whirring and Jerry Garcia's light guitar plucking. Could it be argued that this is more of an atmospheric piece? I guess, but as someone who's also come to appreciate atmospheric music, there's usually some guiding purpose, a sense of direction to where the ambiance was heading. I don't get any sense of purpose or direction from "Feedback" outside of general noise, and noise for the sake of noise doesn't seem all that appealing to me. After that, the album closes on a short little traditional ditty, bidding farewell to the audience, and I'm left wondering what got cut that could have helped bolster this package, especially given how later live releases would encompass more of the Fillmore West 1969 performances.

It sucks because I wanted to like Live/Dead more. The opening half was so strong, and for the performance to peter out like that hurts me. I know for many Deadheads, the first live album is often revered, and I can see the appeal in the opening medley of tracks alone. But at this point, there are plenty of other live recordings from the Grateful Dead over the years, more comprehensive than this release.

I wasn't sure who Talvin Singh was at first glance. Upon further reading, I noticed that he started his career as a session musician, having played on tabla for the likes of Siouxsie and the Banshees and Björk. In fact, he's worked alongside other producers and DJs in an underground movement that focused on fusing South Asian music and instrumentation with electronica. Thus, I'm not surprised Talvin took that next step and released a solo debut. With that said, how does OK hold up?

Well, I will say this is a very eclectic mixture of Indian classical instrumentation and drum 'n' bass electronic music. It definitely fits within the notion of "atmospheric" electronica that I've come to appreciate with my album journey. The blending of live and digitized elements can seem mesmerizing at times, as if the world were a canvas that Talvin painted on with his compositions. From the sprawling 11-minute epic of "Traveller", to the breakbeat flute and sitar pairing of "Butterfly", to the hypnotic vocal-led trance of "Sutrix", to the tingling jazz fusion with the liquid drops of "Mombasstic", to the meditation on "Eclipse" as the tabla and electronic beats seemingly become one, to the clash of the geisha choir, wailing guitar and chopped-up beats on the title track, there are some rich and diverse soundscapes on display here.

That said, I do not consider this album to be perfect. I didn't feel that "Decca" was a meaningful interlude to open "Eclipse", and "Disser/Point.Mento.B" also felt similarly underdeveloped. Conversely, I felt that the ending of "Veckram the Vampire" was drawn out longer than it needed to. Towards the end of the record, the momentum significantly slowed down and wasn't as engaging to me as the first roughly two-thirds were.

Still, I cannot deny how genuinely intrigued I was by OK as a melting pot of world music and electronica. Talvin Singh knew how to take his understanding of Indian classical music and transform it for a new generation.

Okay, I was not expecting this to happen so soon. I just finished reviewing Only by the Night last week, noting that Kings of Leon used to be a lot more raucous and energetic early on. Well, time to put my words to the test.

Giving their debut record a spin, Youth and Young Manhood definitely boasts some of that dense mixture of Southern rock and garage blues that the band employed early on. The obvious highlights are the songs carried over from the Holly Roller Novocaine EP and further refined in composition. However, there are plenty of other rocking numbers to be found, like the hard-hitting opener "Red Morning Light" and the upbeat "Joe's Head". Even when the momentum takes a back seat, like with the piano-driven showtune "Talihina Sky" or the more pensive ballad "Trani", those tracks are still at least intriguing in contrast.

That said, once again, with examining Kings of Leon lyrics, I find myself conflicted. So much of this record comes off as horny, which I get that the members were young adults at the time of recording, but that doesn't excuse the egregious manner in which they wrote about women, such as with the conquests made on "Happy Alone" or the weirdly scripted orgy on "Spiral Staircase". Thankfully, it's not all like that, as there are some genuinely good observations made here and there, like the frustrations of dealing with label executives on "Genius", the revenge fantasy of "Joe's Head", the yearning for one's life before a sour relationship on "California Waiting", and the negative feelings that the Followills had of their hometown of Talihina on the closing track. But it is hard to ignore how this is the debut record of a group that seemed so young, having not fully fleshed out their songwriting.

I still consider Youth and Young Manhood a solid record overall. It does leave me curious how the other early Kings of Leon record turned out.

I will base this review on the US release of this album, which includes the track "Virginia Plain".

I've heard a fair share of Roxy Music, the artsy glam rock band founded by the eccentric, over-the-top vocalist Bryan Ferry alongside oboeist and saxophonist Andy Mackay. But what surprised me was that Brian Eno played synths on their first two records. Given how prolific a songwriter and producer Brian would become, it is rather cool to hear his near-humble beginnings. With that said, how does Roxy Music's debut hold up?

Oddly enough, this was some genuinely intriguing glam rock. The core identity of this record can be traced to the pop art studies that Ferry, Eno, and Mackay partook in, and they make that known. The campy songwriting and equally delectable crooning vocal performance from Ferry, the solemn wind instrument playing from Mackay, and the otherworldly experimental synths from Eno made for quite a combination over a solid rhythmic foundation from Phil Manzanera, Paul Thompson, and Graham Simpson. In fact, this album can feel pretty futuristic and postmodernist for coming out in 1972. One minute, there's a fun, eccentric bop like "Virginia Plain" and "Ladytron". The next minute, there's a bold, ambitious suite like "If There is Something" and "The Bob (Medley)". The very next minute, it can be a deeply introspective ballad like "Chance Meeting" and "Sea Breezes". Props have to be given to this band for how much they pushed the envelope with their unique blend of art rock and glam rock sensibilities.

That said, my only hangups with this debut are inconsistent production track-by-track, and I find that the sequencing of the tracks doesn't quite work out for as cohesive a flow. Putting aside how oddly juxtaposed "Virginia Plain" was placed on the US release, there are some tonal hills and valleys with the track listing, particularly in the second half, with how the deeply introspective cuts like "Chance Meeting" and "Sea Breezes" are mixed with the more kooky saxophone-led tracks "Would You Believe?" and "Bitters End."

Still, I can say I had a genuinely good time with Roxy Music's wildly experimental debut. I certainly can't wait to hear another record from them.

I will not include the bonus tracks on the expanded edition for this review.

I have listened to Ride before, and recognize that they are one of the pioneering acts in shoegaze, despite the band's rejection of the genre label. In fact, their debut record, Nowhere, saw early success before the genre was even defined and later ridiculed by the British press. Having sat down to listen to Nowhere, I can see the genuine merit this group had near the beginning.

I think what sets Ride apart from the other major shoegaze groups of the time is how traceable their sound is back to 60s psychedelic rock bands and 80s jangle pop. Right from the get-go on tracks like "Seagull" and "Kaleidoscope", there is this defiantly bright density of textures, demonstrated across Mark Gardener and Andy Bell's harmonious vocals and wailing guitars, Steve Queralt's thick bass, and Loz Colbert's manic drumplay. The band also takes its time to build a foundation for different compositions, including the opening guitar licks of "In a Different Place" and "Decay", the hypnotic tremolo of "Polar Bear", and the stomping beat with the whooshing haze of "Dreams Burn Down". Pairing well with this dreamy soundscape are some genuinely impressionistic lyrics that find Gardener and Bell solemnly reflecting on their predicaments, mainly observational in the vivid imagery, such as with the seagull symbolizing unrestrained freedom, the kaleidoscope as a colorful swirl of memories that rushes to the mind, the touching of a cloud on "Polar Bear" as a drug overdose, and the vapour trail in the sky as the dissolution of a relationship. It only ever leans towards melancholic in examining the failed relationship on "Dreams Burn Down", as the frustration nearly chokes Gardener as if it were smoke caught in his lungs.

That said, I do feel that of the eight tracks on their debut, "Decay" and "Paralysed" stuck out as the least developed from my perspective. They weren't bad, certainly not with the amazing guitar work of the latter, but they could have had more time to flesh out and convey the underlying emotional turmoil that needed to be expressed. At the very least, it felt like those songs could have used a third verse.

Still, I was genuinely pleased with Nowhere as a solid debut from such an eclectic group.

It's been about a year and a half since I got a Joni Mitchell record. I recall enjoying the fusion of jazz and folk-rock that she employed on Court and Spark. Since that record, Joni continued to experiment with jazz influences, which not only meant keeping Larry Carlton on guitar and John Guerin on drums, but also bringing in Jaco Pastorius on fretless bass. Also, she was inspired by travelling across the country with friends and the many twists and turns that happened during that time. The resulting album chronicling these events was Hejira, and it made for an adoring listen.

There is such an exquisite bounce to this record, between the lush guitars, supple bass, and spare percussion, with only a few instrumental embellishments such as Neil Young's accompanying harmonica on "Furry Sings the Blues", the subtle touches of Abe Most's clarinet on the title track, and the breezy horns that come in halfway through "Refuge of the Roads". All these elements coalesce behind Joni's hypnotic delivery, making for the restlessly venturous style she wanted to go for with this album.

As for the lyrics, once again, Joni gets personal with the details, drawing on the aforementioned trip across the country and continued adventures in passion. The brief fling she had with playwright Sam Shepard on "Coyote", her encounter with blues guitarist Furry Lewis on "Furry Sings the Blues", the affair she had with a flight attendant who was simultaneously wise and childlike on "A Strange Boy", her trek from the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia on "Black Crow", all vividly detailed with the poetic prose that's expected from her.

There are a few songs that feel the most revealing of Joni during this period. Across "Amelia", the title track, and "Blue Motel Room", she reconciled with the dissolution of her relationship with John Guerin, not only detailing her reasons for leaving him, but also leaving the door open should he ever wish to rekindle. "Song for Sharon" envisioned what her life could have been had she settled down and married a farmer like she wanted, only thinly veiled under the name of Joni's childhood friend, Sharon Bell. Finally, the album closes out with "Refuge of the Roads", detailing Joni's three-day visit with a Buddhist meditation master on her way back to L.A., curing her cocaine addiction and experiencing a brief "awakened" state. For a moment, she had such bliss, until her self-awareness, the "thunderhead of judgment", started kicking back in.

Hejira is another excellent record in Joni's catalog, an absolute treat to listen to. I honestly can't wait for my next record from her, whenever that may come.

I remember growing up as a teenager in 2008, getting really into rock music, and here came Kings of Leon breaking into the mainstream with two singles off of this record, "Sex on Fire" and "Use Somebody". I still enjoy these two songs despite the overplay, and it certainly proved enough to get into the Tennessee-based Southern rock group later in life. But here's the thing - for as much as the band finally had a breakthrough in their home country, they already had massive success over in the U.K., which is why there are three of their records in the 1001 Albums books. Lest we forget, Robert Dimery and his team are predominantly British, and they seem to love Kings of Leon over there. With all that said, how did it feel listening to Only by the Night?

Well, I do consider this album good, but I'm not sure I would call it the best of what this band has done up to this point. I will touch upon this more when I get the other two Kings of Leon records later in my album journey, but basically, this band used to be a lot more raucous and energetic early on, with elements of garage rock in their sound. But around this album and its predecessor, Because of the Times, the band began to slow things down and embrace a more accessible, alternative rock style. Now, I'm not gonna knock a band for going in a different direction if it helps spark creativity, and there are at least a few cool ideas executed well here. The buzzing bass groove of "Crawl", the ramshackle acoustic guitar sway with the hazy reverb echoes of "Manhattan", Nathan Followill's punchy polyrhythmic beat alongside the arpeggiated guitars on "Revelry", there's even still some intensity left in the band at this point on cuts like "Notion" and "Be Somebody". Not to mention how emotive and powerful Caleb Followill can be as a frontman, or how crisp and biting the production from Angelo Patragalia is. I simply can't help but notice how slowed down the band had become, especially with the foreknowledge of their later records, because it doesn't pick back up here outside of some occasionally better melodic songwriting.

Then there are the lyrics, which I'm also admittedly divided on. I certainly commend the band for trying to be a little more confrontational, with "Crawl" highlighting the regressive nature of American policy at the time, the persecution of Native Americans on "Manhattan", and even calling out their own fanbase for grievances on "Notion" and "Be Somebody". Even the self-confrontational muse on "Revelry" seemed rather potent, as Caleb reflected on his intoxicated behavior and looked to reconcile after the relationship faltered. Yet, at the same time, I can't help but feel like Kings of Leon now and then fall into some bad Southern rock tropes with their writing, particularly around women, without any swagger, bravado, or even a little humor to make it somewhat tolerable. There are moments where the earnestness in the lyrics can rub me the wrong way, like with "17," which is indeed about having feelings over a seventeen-year-old girl. One would think that writing songs about underage girls was a bad habit that we would have collectively stopped with the decline of glam metal in the 90s. I have similar issues with "I Want You", as the framing tries to imply reciprocating feelings between a girl and a guy even after the skeevy setup in the first verse and the caught sex tape in the second verse. I could see a track like this played up in a certain way, but the sincerity in the lyrics and delivery just left me feeling odd about it.

At the end of the day, I'll still consider Only by the Night to be a decent record overall, despite a few misgivings. But I cannot deny that this is a point of no return for Kings of Leon, as their sound will continue to dilute after the success of this album.

I am familiar with The Sisters of Mercy as one of the most prominent acts in dark culture, even if they don't fully embrace that notion. They started as a full band until members left the band, citing creative differences, leaving the Sisters of Mercy name to frontman Andrew Eldritch and his drum machine, affectionately named "Doktor Avalanche". The only other people Andrew brought in for a new record were bassist Patricia Morrison for backing vocals, and producers Larry Alexander and Jim Steinman, the latter of whom previously worked with the likes of Meat Loaf and Bonnie Tyler. So, with Sisters of Mercy now largely regarded as a solo project for Andrew Eldritch, how did Floodland turn out?

Honestly, this was pretty good. Credit to Eldritch as a songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, because he set out to make this album as sonically catchy as possible despite the limitations in place. The obvious highlights are the Jim Steinman-produced tracks "Dominion / Mother Russia" and "This Corrosion", but I also dug the sinister dirge with the driving electronic drum beat of "Flood I", the prominent bassline of "Lucretia My Reflection", the aching sequencer-driven ballad of "1959", the crisp acoustic guitar strums over the accompanying haze of "Flood II", and the atmospheric wallow that gradually builds on "Driven Like the Snow". Throughout, Andrew was stimulating in his bass-baritone, painting macabre tales with vivid imagery in his lyrics, drawing upon the immersive lure of water to describe lost innocence and collapse, be they of empires or of the group's previous split. There is genuinely intriguing storytelling here.

Sure, I can imagine that people will prefer the more prominent band dynamics on their first record, First and Last and Always. Not to mention, I feel that the fragmented ending of "Never Land" could have been fleshed out more. But overall, I was genuinely pleased with Floodland, proving how resourceful Andrew Eldritch is as a well-rounded musician.

In terms of covering the most prominent figures in country music, it makes sense on paper to include at least one album from Loretta Lynn. As one of the most decorated female country recording artists, it sounded like a smart idea to include at least one of her works in the 1001 Albums books for historical significance. After listening to Don't Come Home a Drinkin' (With Lovin' on Your Mind), though, the best I could come away with was, "It's fine, I guess?"

It's a solid enough record of originals and covers, albeit with a clear conservative bent in the lyrics and themes, as Loretta was looking for a steady, upright man to be faithful to. Like, there are multiple songs about terrible partners, either taken by another woman or by other vices like alcohol, usually placing Loretta as the victim. It's certainly not bad framing, but the fact that nearly every song can be viewed in this light and little else, with the same slow-burn, warm country tones, makes this record feel rather repetitive. It makes me wonder if a different record of hers, like Coal Miner's Daughter, would have made a better inclusion, or how distinct this is compared to her contemporaries like Patsy Cline or Merle Haggard. I get that the title track was her first number-one country hit, but I'm unsure whether the rest of the album stacks up.

All's to say that I don't feel like I got much out of Don't Come Home a Drinkin' as an album. Again, it's fine, but I'm not certain how often I'll come back to this outside a few songs.

Full disclosure - I used to listen to Marilyn Manson years ago. A shock rock band with elements of goth and industrial metal was bound to get my attention, especially one with such public notoriety after the release of the concept record Antichrist Superstar. But after a while, I became fatigued with listening to their music, ultimately phasing out of my interest in them around the time the sexual assault allegations against the namesake frontman came out, actions which he himself admitted to. If there is one aspect of my album journey that would be truly challenging to me, it would be re-examining the demons of my past. It would take some sheer willpower to cast aside any hesitancy in listening to an artist I had previously left behind. With all that said, how did it feel listening to Antichrist Superstar?

Well, let me start by highlighting the two big advantages Marilyn Manson had early on in their career: the knack for coming up with a decent hook and surrounding themselves with great producers. It is fascinating how many grooves were found in the underlying industrial foundation, bolstered by Twiggy Ramirez's distorted guitar riffs and Ginger Fish's punchy percussion. Even if the bass isn't as prominent or doing anything distinct compared to the guitars, there are still enough heavy musical phrases that penetrate through and linger in the mind. I found myself recalling the likes of "Irresponsible Hate Anthem", "Mister Superstar", "Angel with Scabbed Wings", and the pairing of the title track into "1996" as they festered. Even though I am thoroughly sick of "The Beautiful People" with how overplayed that single is, I cannot deny that it's an earworm.

Of course, as I've alluded to, the other big boon for the band was the producers they aligned themselves with early on. In this case, we have the likes of veteran industrial producer Sean Beavan, former Skinny Puppy producer Dave Ogilvie, and Nine Inch Nails mastermind Trent Reznor. There is something grimy about how this album is mixed, with buzzing electronic whirs and decrepit synths layered throughout. Hell, I was particularly intrigued when the intensity was dialed back on the rare occasion for a more brooding atmosphere, such as with the prominent Mellotron on "Cryptorchid". I wouldn't say the production goes as hard as some of these gentlemen's other works, especially how weirdly muted it is in comparison, but it's decent at setting the mood.

That all said, at some point, the fatigue starts sinking in, and I am reminded of why I grew tired of this band. This album does feel long at over 71 minutes, even if it is reasonably structured into three acts for its concept. Now, I've certainly enjoyed my fair share of long records on this album journey thus far. But I feel limited by how muted the overall sound is on this record, and how limited Marilyn Manson, the frontman, can be behind the mic. Between the guttural whispers and restrained screams, I can't help but find an imbalance in his vocal presence, not quite going for broke.

Even still, probably the most damning aspect of this album is how tame this shock rock record is. After the initial uproar of "Irresponsible Hate Anthem", complete with full-on use of the hard-R N-word that I wasn't particularly into, the rest of the tracks fall into rather standard industrial music with elements of Bowie-esque glam rock in between. Hell, the titular Antichrist Superstar can be viewed as a slightly darker version of David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust character, a supernatural rock star sent to disrupt the status quo. It's probably in my favor that I have immersed myself in more abrasive and potent industrial music over the years. For me, it makes Marilyn Manson's shtick easier to digest, which means I can look past the veneer and recognize the social critiques being made at celebrity idolatry and the burgeoning fascism within the Christian conservative movement in the United States, both of which are unfortunately increasingly relevant in today's world, to the point where they seem to go hand-in-hand. In that regard, I can recognize how seemingly prophetic this album became and how so many people now embrace Marilyn Manson's brand of nihilism, which means my listening to this record came with little surprise. If the shock value is no longer there, then the only thing a performer can rely on is their musicality, and if the best I can call the musical performance on display here is decent, then it leaves a lot to be desired in my eyes.

At the end of the day, I recognize the historical significance Antichrist Superstar had at the time, as Marilyn Manson had once thrived in the perceived ideological villainy, with at least some musical sensibility. But I also recognize that I've grown up and moved on from this band and its frontman. To a shock rock artist, that would be the scariest thing to say.

Okay, last time I listened to Tim Buckley on my album journey, I remembered that he specialized in psychedelic folk, and Happy Sad saw him incorporating elements of jazz. So, I was admittedly surprised that he made a full-on genre shift to funk and R&B, and I'm not sure how to feel about it.

At least instrumentally, it is a pretty good record. The personnel he assembled for Greetings from L.A. provided that necessary swagger, particularly from the tight rhythm section and Kevin Nelly's bouncing piano work. I especially liked some of the additional embellishments, like the saxophone playing on "Move With Me", and Joe Falsia's opulent string arrangements on "Sweet Surrender" and "Make It Right". There is a genuinely solid foundation here for a charismatic performer to take behind the mic and lay down a delicious vocal performance. If only that were the case here....

Okay, to be fair, Tim tried to meet the moment with enough shouting and hollering in clear emulation of other funk vocalists at the time, and is certainly an attempt, even if it gets rather ear-grating when he occasionally reached his falsetto or devolve into straight up gibberish. But, even a middling vocal performance could be forgiven if the lyrics were good, right?

Yeah, this is the point where I reach the main problem with this album. Now, I'm not against the idea of someone wanting to explore more sexually explicit subject matter, that can work. What would be needed for a more sexually explicit song to work is if it can be approached from a sense of emotional maturity or genuine introspection into exploring the feelings that can be brought up from such passion, and I did not get much of that from Tim's words. If anything, he approached sex with the mindset of a teenage boy who came across their first Playboy magazine. All this talk of getting himself spanked, "talking in tongues", and other such innuendos carried little weight or substance throughout this record. Probably the most revealing of these is "Sweet Surrender", where the best explanation Tim could muster for cheating on someone is that he "had to be a hunter again" and "make love feel new again", which is a lame excuse. Then you remember that Tim abandoned Mary Guibert when she was pregnant with their child, Jeff, and it all feels terrible.

Adding salt to the wound are the multiple derogatory remarks Tim used throughout this record. I did not need to hear about him wanting to "kill me a gook before dawn" on "Nighthawkin'", or about how there's a "big old girl doin' the monkey rub" on "Devil Eyes". I did not need to look these terms up and be disgusted at what I found. The only song that I didn't cringe at was "Hong Kong Bar", where there is a sense of longing for a past lover, though even that was admittedly hampered by the notion that he was gonna find another mama to help him "rest at night".

Man, it sucks to say that for as instrumentally good as Greetings from L.A. is, the frontman behind the vocals went and soured the whole mood. It also sucks to say for Tim, as only a few years later he would die from accidental overdose. But I do not find myself coming back to this record.

As someone who's enjoyed Siamese Dream since he was a teenager, it's high time that I check out the other big Smashing Pumpkins record. After touring for Siamese Dream, Billy Corgan immediately began writing songs for the next record. There was an intent to go for broke, writing a double album's worth of material, employing a wider variety of styles, working with different producers, and changing their recording process to simultaneously challenge themselves and eliminate the tensions of the last album cycle's sessions. The resulting record, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, is certainly bold and a lot to take in.

This is an emotionally volatile record, as Billy sought to explore what he called "the human condition of mortal sorrow". Apathy, fear, rage, spite, nihilism, isolation, temptation, anguish, disillusion, obsession - there is no sparing in the darker broodings. Between the heavier lyrics and tuned-down guitars, there is very little respite to be found outside of the fleeting hope on the title track and "Tonight, Tonight", the distancing from one's past transgressions on "To Forgive", the longing nostalgia of "1979", and the two tracks penned by James Iha, "Take Me Down" and "Farewell and Goodnight", that close out each disc with calm reflection. I don't think there's a bad or weak track across both halves, certainly with how good the singles are, plus other highlights to be found like the synthetic harp arpeggios of "Cupid de Locke" and the unbridled stomp of "X.Y.U.". Yet it can make for an overwhelming two hours, as themes and sonic palettes run together, particularly with how many songs on the second disc ruminate on love and Billy's past relationships. I'm sure it must have been cathartic for him to lay it all bare, and the rest of the band were able to compensate for what could be considered an ambitious work.

Even if I prefer the tighter package of Siamese Dream, I can recognize how important Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness is in shaping the larger pantheon of alternative rock.

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

For people like me who grew up in the 2000s, you're probably more familiar with Randy Newman as a film composer. I grew up watching a lot of Disney films like Toy Story, Monsters, Inc., and A Bug's Life, and Randy was there along the way, scoring these films. But, for an older crowd, Randy established himself as a credible songwriter for other acts before pursuing a successful solo career. In fact, several of the songs collected for Sail Away were recorded by other artists, like Alan Price and Harry Nilsson. With that in mind, how does Randy handle his own material?

Let me address the one aspect of Randy Newman that is likely a barrier for people getting into his music: his voice. He has a particular Southern-accented enunciation that paints his songs in a cartoonish manner, even if it's unintentional. Now, this vocal styling can work in a satirical sense, which Randy was able to work with, such as his portrayal of an American slave trader on the title track, the disillusion of perceived success on "Lonely at the Top", the lampooing of U.S. foreign policy on "Political Science", and even a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Cuyahoga River catching on fire in "Burn On". Plus, there are a few moments where Randy can dial back his singing to a softer croon for a more serious tone, usually when addressing his atheist background on the likes of "He Gives Us All His Love" and "Old Man". But I'll admit that his vocal cadence over these schmaltzy piano-driven showtunes can get repetitive and tiring after a while, even if there isn't an outright bad song on here.

I still overall enjoyed Sail Away and recognize how successful a singer-songwriter Randy Newman became. Even if it was a tad fatiguing towards the end, I can recognize the genuine hit-maker he would turn out to be.

I will base this review on the original UK release, rather than the North American edition, which added the single "Sanctuary".

In some regard, I understand that there was a need to include another Iron Maiden album when Bruce Dickinson wasn't the lead vocalist. After all, this band had gone through several singers over 50 years, thus it made sense to at least mention another. Plus, there is sentimental value in looking back on a band's humble beginnings. This is why we get to check out the self-titled debut, when the lead vocalist was Paul Di'Anno.

First, let me be clear, I do not consider Paul to be as good a singer as Bruce Dickinson. But really, that's an apples-to-oranges comparison if you think about it. Bruce has a more operatic singing style that complements the band's more progressive-leaning compositional work of later releases. Paul, on the other hand, had a more punk-ish attitude to his performance, with a grittier, down-to-earth delivery that gave the band's early output a more aggressive flair. Sure, he could hold a long note on tracks like "Remember Tomorrow" and "Strange World", but there was something truly gripping about the more in-your-face vocal performance he had. I was certainly entertained enough to have fun and sing along throughout the album's runtime.

I enjoyed every track on their debut. There's the obvious live staples of "Iron Maiden" and "Running Free", the harbinger of the band's more progressive songwriting in "Remember Tomorrow" and "Phantom of the Opera", the instrumental onslaught of "Transylvania" into the ethereal ballad of "Strange World", and the no-frills rockers of "Prowler" and "Charlotte the Harlot". Even with lineup changes to come, the core identity of the band's style was largely cemented with this record, especially with Steve Harris's bass gallops and some electrifying guitar work from Dave Murray and Dennis Stratton.

Overall, I had a fun time revisiting Iron Maiden's debut. It is such an immaculate showcase for what's to come. Rest in power, Paul.

It's been nearly a year and a half since I got a Kate Bush album from the generator. I think on some level, because I got Hounds of Love as my first Kate Bush record, I was better prepared to hear her prior album, The Dreaming. In some ways, one can connect the two and hear the sonic evolution that unfolds. But even then, boy, does this album get weird.

After a successful run of three albums, Kate Bush produced this record all by herself, and the newfound creative freedom shows. This is certainly one of the most excessive and intricately assembled albums of its time. Opening with the whiplash percussive brushes of bamboo sticks and cascading pianos on "Sat in Your Lap", into the hazy synths contrasting the syncopated horns on "There Goes a Tenner", the tribal-esque percussion accompanied by the piano dirge and electric guitar strokes on "Pull Out the Pin", the thunderous drums of "Leave It Open" and "Get Out of My House", the ornate mandolin and string accompaniment on "Suspended in Gaffe", the bullroarer and digeridoo on the title track, the bagpipes and other such Celtic instruments on "Night of the Swallow", such a wide variety in sounds colliding. Throughout, Kate puts on quite a spectacle with her voice, going from soft croons to full-on harsh screams and even an Australian accent on the title track that somehow works. I can see how this album could be overwhelming for some people on first listen. But again, seeing the throughline between this and Hounds of Love, not only do I hear the greater depths in storytelling that were achieved in execution, but I was pretty much into the eccentricities of it all.

It also helps that the lyrics feel just as varied and striking. Some tracks touched on Kate's personal issues as she strove for her artistic freedom, like the existential dread on "Sit on Your Lap", the exploration of one's darker side on "Leave It Open", the desire to experience something truly ethereal on "Suspended in Gaffa", and the strife to process through loneliness and grief on "All Your Love". Other tracks saw her explore various subject matter that tapped into her storytelling prowess, including the plight of Aboriginal Australians on the title track, the suspense in the crimes illustrated in "There Goes a Tenner" and "Night of the Swallow", the Vietnam War allusions on "Pull Out the Pin", and the passionate tale of magician Harry Houdini's widow trying to contact her dead husband in the song that bore his name. It all culminates in the closing number "Get Out of the House", wherein Kate draws from the works of Stephen King's The Shining and Ridley Scott's Alien to create a chilling horror story that metaphorically deals with self-isolation and the anger and frustration that can spill over from such drastic measures.

All in all, The Dreaming is a batshit record, and I adore it. Obviously, Kate Bush's later releases would become more accessible, but for once, there was beauty in the madness.

It's been almost two years since I got a Stevie Wonder album from the generator. I am due to revisit Songs in the Key of Life after getting it as album #13 on my journey. But for today, we got another treat from Stevie's "classic period." While this period of fully-realized albums technically started with Music of My Mind, it was Talking Book, released later in the year, that got a lot of the accolades, and for good reason.

This album illustrates an artist who gained complete creative control over their work and reached the emotional maturity to meet those weighted expectations. Stevie sang with reverence and was genuinely earnest in his wide range of expressions through his songwriting. I can hear his affection towards his then-wife, Syreeta Wright, on "You Are the Sunshine of My Life", his frustration at a cheating partner on "Maybe Your Baby", his soft-spoken passion on "You and I (We Can Conquer the World)", his envy on "Tuesday Heartbreak", his reservedness on "You've Got it Bad Girl", his anxiety on "Superstition", his frustrations at the government in the Orwellian-inspired "Big Brother", his sorrow on "Blame It on the Sun", his looming jealousy on "Lookin' for Another Pure Love", culminating in his optimism for true love on "I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)". The tracklist was thoughtfully laid out to convey the changes in mood Stevie went through, and it felt like a complete story in and of itself.

The other aspect of Stevie's musicianship to highlight is his virtuosity. Looking at the individual song credits, it is amazing how he played nearly every instrument, taking full advantage of synthesizers and keyboards to bring on that delicious, funky sound. The warm Fender Rhodes of "You Are the Sunshine of My Life", the iconic combo of the Hohner cabinet and Moog bass on "Maybe Your Baby", "Supersitition", and "Big Brother", the haunting T.O.N.T.O. synthesizer on "You and I (We Can Conquer the World)" and "Blame It on the Sun", his polyrhythmic drumwork across the whole album, simply divine throughout. Of course, the rest of the personnel did a spectacular job on record as well, including the background vocals on "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" and "Tuesday Heartbreak", and the electric guitar play from the likes of a young Ray Parker Jr. on "Maybe Your Baby" and Jeff Beck on "Lookin' for Another Pure Love".

There's not much else to say, as Talking Book is a spectacular record from the beginning of Stevie Wonder's successful run, and it holds up remarkably well.

I was wondering when I was gonna get a Kinks record. I figured that with the likes of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones getting multiple albums in the 1001 Albums books, the Kinks would be right behind them for inclusion. In fact, we get to skip past their early beat music years and into their more experimental period, incorporating more inspiration from baroque pop and music hall, with a strict self-imposed adherence to English music and culture. The result is that Face to Face is a very opulent-sounding record.

Embellishments like the harpsichord and Mellotron enhance their psychedelic, hook-driven songs with a more grandiose stance. Tracks like "Rosy Won't You Please Come Home", "Too Much on My Mind", "Session Man", "Fancy", "Dandy", and especially "Sunny Afternoon" have that extra oomph to their instrumental compositions, as the Davies brothers traded vocals in their witty musings on their homeland's culture, social norms, commercialism, and the music industry. Of course, the band still knew how to rock out on cuts like "House in the Country" and "I'll Remember", with the kind of musical showmanship that seemed expected of them. It is a testament to how competently each band member played and how polished the production was.

That said, I don't think every song clicked well for me. The album started on a rather odd note with "Party Line", as Dave Davies sang about wanting to meet this woman he spoke to over the phone, wondering what she looked like and whether she was a she at all. It's a rather daft observation compared to most tracks on this record. I feel like they would end up covering this bemusement and confusion over a possible woman better on their later hit, "Lola". Similar sentiments could be said for the underwritten tracks "Fancy" and "You're Looking Fine", even if I dug the sitar-esque guitar playing of the former.

Still, I had an overall good time with Face to Face. It is an important step in the Kinks' sonic evolution, and I expect their English-oriented experimentation and songwriting were further refined down the line.