Rated 6/10
The beginning had me thinking she would be doing something daring, because it sounded dark and foreboding. And then it went into basic pop princess. I get it, she has fans. It's alright. Nothing special.
My rating: 3/5
Rated 8/10
John Grant sings like he's starring in a Broadway show nobody else showed up for. The songs are funny, sad, theatrical, bitter, and surprisingly catchy. It runs a little longer than it needs to, but Grant's personality carries it through. Half the time he's delivering emotional confessions, half the time he's making jokes at his own expense, and somehow both work. One of the more memorable singer-songwriter albums I've heard on this journey.
My Rating: 4/5 crowns
Rated 4/10
Shleep is exactly the kind of album critics love and I struggle with. Robert Wyatt fills these songs with unusual instruments, textures, and ideas, but for much of the runtime they never seem to develop into anything compelling. The album often feels content to drift, and Wyatt's fragile vocal style doesn't help. His voice frequently sounds strained to my ears, pulling me out of the music rather than drawing me into it.
That said, the album isn't without rewards. "Blues in Bob Minor" was the first track that really clicked for me. It has a strong melody, a sense of direction, and an arrangement that works with Wyatt's voice rather than against it. It actually grooves in places, proving that all of the musicianship and experimentation on display can produce genuinely engaging results.
The closing track, "The Whole Point of No Return," is even better. The combination of understated trumpet and deep, droning bass creates an atmosphere that feels powerful without being overworked. It's the point where the album's experimental instincts finally pay off emotionally rather than intellectually.
In the end, Shleep feels like an album with flashes of brilliance buried inside long stretches that leave me cold. I can appreciate the creativity and musicianship, but I wish more of the record delivered the same payoff as its best moments. When Wyatt focuses his ideas, the results are excellent. I just wish there were more of them.
My Rating: 2/5
Rated 4/10
This is a rough one. There are layers here that would go on to influence dark electronica and industrial music, and that's interesting to hear. "Frankie Teardrop" is the track everyone talks about, though: an audio exploration of desperation, anxiety, and psychological collapse. I mean, if you're going to name your band Suicide and your album Suicide, you're probably not aiming for puppies and sunshine.
An important first step toward a lot of music that would come later, but not something I ever need to hear again.
My rating: 2/5
Rated 4/10
A jazz album for musicians. If this was supposed to make me feel something, it failed miserably. The chanting at the end of the first track was weird, and didn't seem to add anything. The music just seemed to noodle on and on, meandering around the mountain of John Coltrane, but not leaving a trace behind.
My rating: 2/5
Rated 4/10
I understand why people consider this album important, but it falls completely flat for me. Some listeners hear vulnerability in Neil Young's quavering, delicate vocals. To me, they sound uncommitted and unsure. It's like he's delivering the songs from the doorway, ready to run away and cry if you don't like them.
I know there are more Neil Young albums ahead of me, but this one didn't do anything to change my mind about his voice. I just don't connect with it.
Despite the title and album cover, nothing about On the Beach felt particularly beachy. Maybe that's a shallow criticism, but if you're going to call an album On the Beach and put that cover on it, give me at least a little sun, sand, or ocean in the music. Instead, I got folk and country flavored protest songs and gloomy introspection.
Sir, this beach is severely under-beached.
My Rating: 2/5
Rated 10/10
Nick Cave makes songs about murder sound like show tunes but better. Show tunes that aren't annoying. He's got a quality to his voice that reminds me of Tom Waits, but tempered and controlled instead of filtered through all the cigarette butts discarded on the floor. The duets on here are absolutely beautiful. I could listen to ten albums like this. Just as long as I never have to listen to the Beatles again.
My Rating: 5/5
Rated 6/10
It's Clapton, come on. He's a guitar god, and the riffs are excellent. You've got "I Shot The Sheriff", an excellent tune. The rest of the album is pretty much scaffolding to hold that up, though. It's not bad, it's just average. "Motherless Children" comes in pretty strong, but the grooves just kind of blend together up to "I Shot The Sheriff" and then continue blending after that. "Steady Rollin' Man" is pretty good.
Can we just talk about the album in front of us instead of talking about the artist's activities off stage? Please?
My Rating: 3/5
Rated 2/10
New Gold Dream is all sheen and atmosphere, but there's nothing for me to hold onto. The production is polished, the musicians are competent, and the songs pass by without ever demanding my attention. By the time the album ended, I struggled to remember a single moment worth revisiting. Not offensive, not bad, just completely forgettable.
Forgettable is worse than bad. A bad album leaves an impression, a reminder that it as there. If someone were to play this album tomorrow and said I heard these tracks yesterday, I'd have to take their word for it or look at the album art. The album art is the most memorable part of the entire experience, and even THAT isn't much to go on.
My Rating: 1/5
Typical for a country album. Songs of lost love and longing. Nothing special here. I've heard way too much of this, and Dwight brings nothing special to the table. Sorry man, so bored.
My Rating: 2/5
I get that this is foundational for Hip Hop and Rap. I get that this is an important album. It's heavily dated, even for 1986. The call and response is there on almost every track, propelling you back to the house party origin story. I don't think this specific album is necessarily essential. Is there something else by Afrika Bambaataa that could have been put on the list? Maybe?
My Rating: 3/5
Rated 8/10
Beautiful smooth music. This is what you want on in the bedroom, not Marvin Gaye. Everyone THINKS you want Marvin Gaye, but you really don't if you pay attention to the lyrics. This is smooth, jazzy, booty knockin' music. Up until you get to "... Til The Cops Come Knockin'". That's a whole different vibe, and just pretend it's not about light domestic imprisonment and it's really about being so lost in each other the world falls away and nothing else matters. It's good, though. And that album art is wack with the barcode in the middle.
My Rating: 4/5
Rated 10/10
Lovely bit of Americana. John Prine is a master songwriter, no wasted words, full of emotion and symbolism and beauty. The world lost a great when he passed, and he hasn't been replaced. This guy is right up there with Dolly.
My rating: 10/5
Rated 10/10
I wish I had heard this album before today. This is such a smooth, approachable hip-hop album. If they're talking about anything objectionable, it's all hidden in the vibe. Even when they're talking about date rape, it's almost forgotten in the flow. Maybe that's really a bad thing, because it all just glides through. Yeah, they said something significant, but it didn't stick. It didn't even register a blip. It's a good album though, and maybe I just need to listen again to see if anything digs in.
My Rating: 5/5
Rated 2/10
This is the worst album I have ever heard. I'd rather listen to Trout Mask Replica. It's random noises and honking on a saxophone. It's weird with no purpose, which makes all the critics think "this MUST be deep. It must MEAN SOMETHING". Yeah, it means that the band fooled you into listening to this crap album. You receive no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.
My rating:-10/5. But I have to give it a 1.
Rated 8/10
This is not their best work. Nothing can top Rumours. It's not bad, but they've gotten full of themselves, using marching bands to fill the space and Stevie floating all over the place and Lindsay practicing in the closet and Christie saving the day. Even the title track didn't feel like top Fleetwood material.
Sorry guys, this didn't do it like Rumours did.
My Rating: 4/5
Rated 6/10
This album comes across as a musical. It's just missing the speech parts between the songs. It's ABBA not doing disco, which is refreshing. But it's still ABBA, so it sounds a little like disco. You can take ABBA out of the disco, but you can't take the disco out of ABBA. It's a decent enough album, and the songs are well done and pretty good for what they are, but I would never say "You gotta hear this ABBA album!" But that's just me.
My Rating: 3/5
Rated 4/10
What is going on here? You've got this approachable rock album, you're vibing along, this is cool, this is different. And then "Don't" comes on, sounding like someone handed you with a scream grenade with the pin pulled and said "Here, hold this, it's live. Oops, too late!", blows your head off, and then "Keep The Glove" comes on and says "Man, that was rough! You want a soda?" I don't know if I liked this album as much as survived it. This is not daily rotation, and I hope the fans enjoyed it.
My Rating: 2/5
Rated 2/10
This album is what happens when a band decides, “Hey, what if we made a double LP that’s 90% plot, 10% music, and 0% editing?” It’s a self‑indulgent prog swamp that wanders around like it lost its keys somewhere in New York and refuses to ask for directions.
I like Peter Gabriel. I like Phil Collins. I like Genesis.
But this? This is the musical equivalent of someone cornering you at a party to explain their dream in excruciating detail while you slowly realize they’re not going to stop.
The 70s were full of concept albums, but The Lamb feels like the final boss of unnecessary prog. It’s two hours of “trust me, it’s deep” backed by weird noises, metaphors nobody asked for, and a storyline that reads like a Mad Libs written during a fever.
Even for me, a person who willingly listens to experimental music, this was too weird.
Not “fun weird.”
Not “Gabriel weird.”
Just weird‑weird, like someone spilled surrealism all over the mixing board and called it art.
This feels like Peter Gabriel standing in the middle of the studio screaming, "I'm trying to make something MEANINGFUL here, and if you can't get behind me, I'm DONE!", and the rest of the band staring at him saying "We just wanna write some decent songs, man."
My Rating: 1/5
Rated 10/10
I did not expect to like this album as much as I did. Picture this: two bands stand together at a crossroads. One takes the road into psychobilly, the other goes off into the fog. The first band is Reverend Horton Heat, the second is The Gun Club. They sound like you took Horton Heat stylings, took away the coke and meth, and gave them a case of beer and a couple of subs. I've never heard the blues done so well. Right on, boys! Keep it up!
My Rating: 5/5
