Reviews by benc

I love the Kinks, but they pushed the whimsy faders into the red on this one. Some good songs, but also some weird retvrn-syle English nationalism.

-Bowie's artistic instincts are impeccable. Who else would have thought to pair this style of icy, post-psychedelic kosmische music with some of the weirdest r&b ever made?

-This is a Cold War record through and through, but not in an overtly didactic way. He plopped himself at the borderline of east and west, recording basically on top of the Berlin Wall (which plays a direct thematic role in the album), and wrote some observations about the mundane and extraordinary ways life operated at this threshold.

-This record sounds so good. Bowie's voice (and Visconti's micing wizardry) is one of one; no singer sounded like this before or since. The rhythm section cooks. The guitars use all of the coolest prog rock effects of the day (and discard the dorkiest).

The opening dialogue says a couple things about Ryan Adams. 1) this guy is an insufferable record collector who will "well actually..." you in a heartbeat. 2) this guy is like Morrissey: a self-absorbed quasi-literati who is half as clever as his confidence belies.

I suppose any redeeming value of this album comes from Ryan Adams's occasional ability to cosplay better musicians. "To Be Young" starts off as a faithful photocopy of Bringing it Back Home/Highway 61 jump blues, then veers into a B section that is a note-for-note lift of "Girl From the North Country." By the time he reaches the bridge, I'm convinced Adams is missing the point of strophic form; he is trying so hard to convince you of his credibility, but it's such a postmodern hodgepodge of dad rock signifiers it reveals the opposite, that he's rooted in no tradition whatsoever.

"Damn Sam (I Love a Woman That Rains)" is such an embarrassing rewrite of "Just Like a Woman" it gives me a fully body cringe just typing out the title. I would point out the more obvious and elegant phrasing would be "I love a woman WHO rains," but who am I to argue with someone who would win an Olympic gold medal in objectifying women. We have learned far too much about this guy's atrocious behavior over the past 20+ years to separate this artist from this art. From what I can tell, basically every song is either "I need a woman to take care of me and let me be a bad boy" or "I hate this specific woman" or some combination of both.

Maybe this would be a worthwhile listen if you've scraped the bottom of the barrel on every Bob Dylan and Neil Young b-side and outtake you could find and still want more. But I can't understand why you would want Diet Dylan if you can get the full flavor.

Incredible band, amazing singers, immaculate vibes

A good collection of stories about guys getting shot

-God damn Marvin Gaye can sing.

-This is strong music. The title track has become a cultural meme; it's basically "Happy Birthday" for sex.

-But also, it's serious. He really means it when he sings about things like sex and love and peace. Wonderfully non-toxic masculinity.

-The whole band sounds incredible. The strings are just right.

At its best, a nicely hypnotic album with enough grit and crunchy stuff. Sometimes a bit smooth and bright for my taste (I'll blame Cooder).

Happy to hear this for the first time. This band rips.

Deeply annoying music.

Every other 60s rock band (except the Stooges) sound like total squares after you hear this album.

-this isn't the best REM album, it might not even be top 5, but it's still a perfect record. That's how good REM were.

-a true "no skips" album.

-REM were excellent songwriters who didn't just lean on "great songwriting." They were also powerful performers who brought a lot of soul, groove, expression, etc. to every note they played.

-this album is a bit slicker and more "commercial" than some other REM records, but it doesn't feel cheap or gaudy.

-I've been listening to this album since high school (!) and my new hot take is that REM is what you should listen to when you think want to hear the Smiths. They are the more clever, groovier, less pretentious, more earnest queer Byrds fans.

I was totally unfamiliar with this artist. I want to like this album more than I do.

First, the positives. The band, and Kiwanuka's voice, sound great. The sound of the psychedelic soul instrumentation (especially the guitars and the drums) scratches a real itch for the best of the late 60s/early 70s like the Pretty Things, Can, Funkadelic, etc. On some songs, the experimental approach to pop reminded me of more contemporary artists I have liked quite a bit: TV on the Radio, Solange, Sampha.

But there is something about the smooth, frictionless cleanliness to this record that does not hook into me. It feels unremarkable, in that it fits pretty easily among some of the landfill indie rock/pop that was churned out in the 00s and early 10s. Many of the songs on the album sound like commercial ad placement unit shifters; as I listen, I'm already imagining the "poignant moment" in the "prestige drama." Because of this, all the songs hover in a general emotive register that leaves me feeling little desire to "rewatch" the album; none of the songs are stuck in my head, nothing hit me in an "I need to hear that again" way. It sounds like he has been handed the keys to the music industry and has access to great resources: the best professional studios, producers, recording engineers, orchestras, etc. For my taste, this slick, professional sound creates an uncanny contrast with the grit of the rock instrumentation. I would rather hear a garage band version recorded in a basement.

It's a snowy November day in New England and I'm stone cold sober. Listening to this, I wish none of this was true.