Reviews by dutch-point-pro

An interesting blend of blues and rock thrown into the punk aesthetic. Worked well in some places, not so much in others. Much like Akron, Ohio, I’m glad I visited, enjoyed it while I was there, but no need to go back again.

Very much a microcosm of Kanye himself, this is opulent and overproduced. You cannot dismiss it because it definitely has moments of brilliance, but there’s so much extra bullshit that you have to sift through in order to find those highlights, it really isn’t worth it. An exercise in tolerance that I lose every time I try to listen all the way through.

Are these the songs that were sung around Confederate campfires? What kind of troglodyte chauvinist does this appeal to? This is not Post-Appalachian nostalgia, it’s just discordant digression.

Unforgivably long and unconscionably bad.

Late model techno bullshit.

It’s hard for me to call myself a Wilco fan, although they have written some of my favorite songs of all time. Their very nature is change and, because of this, they move through so many styles from one album to the next, and at times from one song to the next, they sound like a different band. In places, YHF sounds like Bright Eyes, Radiohead, Bruce Springsteen or The War on Drugs. If you don’t like a song, just wait. This is not Sky Blue Sky or Summerteeth, by design of course, but it is brilliant in its own way. Easy to hate on this with it’s cacophony of background sounds, but try it again and see if you aren’t just singing along to Jesus, etc. or Reservations.

The Incredible String Band now has some strong competition for the worst album on the list so far. This is embarrassingly bad. No wonder so many rave kids turn out to be clinically depressed.

Like Duran Duran if there were only one Duran.
It’s not good.

This is a classic. It was audacious as a debut and pioneering with Tip’s use of jazz samples via cassette tape edits. The ‘sitting around the living room’ approach to the delivery flew in the face of the hardcore and gangster trends and influenced so much of the 90s rap sound. This might be my favorite album from the early 90s, with creative, intricate rhymes that make it a truly fun style listen. So many classic tracks and lines. “38-24-37 / You and me honey, we’re a match made in heaven!”

Quintessential 80s synth pop. Always liked Love Vigilantes.

Yeah, there’s this … or instead, you could write some good songs. This wasn’t the birth of a style as much as a shrug of apathetic disillusionment. I’ll pass.

Nothing interesting or innovative from Method Man on this one … just makes it pretty clear that the Wu was successful because it was a collective of styles and when we get too much of the same thing, like we do here, it doesn’t work or hold our interest for very long.

This is going to be unpopular, but this album is not very good. It’s an insult to The Man in Black. He can’t sing anymore, he can barely hold a note and yet they wheel him out here (quite literally) to churn out some cover tunes about death and pain? It’s distasteful at best. To say the style is “stripped down” or “bare” is to miss the fact that he us giving us all the energy that his literally dying body could muster.
Young Johnny Cash would have hated this album

The music isn’t actually bad, but it definitely isn’t good. It’s general. It holds no point of view. It is completely forgettable and leaves no trace once it’s gone. This is lemon jello rock. Fine for the moment but impossible to make you ever crave it again.

Casanothanks.

It’s hard to review a Beatles album. It’s like writing a book report on the bible. What, am I gonna tell you it sucks?
This is a communal classic, important to the development of pop, rock and culture. It would be hard to overstate it’s importance.
There was a time in my younger life when I thought Norwegian Wood was the pinnacle of songwriting. I’m still in awe of the lush melody and the beauty and simplicity with which the images and story unfold. There’s an apartment complex named The Norwegian Wood on the long road from the highway to the UConn campus in the woods of Northeastern Connecticut and I still cannot drive past it without thinking about burning it down.
This is great music, redefined pop that wades into all sorts of other influences and genres in meaningful and memorable ways.

Like most produce from the Garden State, this doesn’t age well. You’ve got those classic song alongs that we all love but it’s very 80s. I’ll give it one bonus star for the Bristol Bon Jovi car.

Going out on a limb here, but this actually kind of sucks. No denying the musicality, but it really is campy, indulgent and trite - which makes it pretty typical Queen in my humble opinion.

Not too long ago, I could not conceive of a time when I might listen to a country album and give it a perfect five stars. This album has me doubting that belief. The imagery and thrift of language on this (debut) album showcase Prine as a fearless lyricist with an peerless gift for evocative phrasing, all at a mere 24 years old. I mean, when Dylan calls you a great lyricist, people should take notice.
“There’s a hole in daddy‘s arm, where all the money goes, and Jesus Christ died for nothing, I suppose. Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios.” I mean, Goddamn. How do you not feel that one?
When Angel from Montgomery is perhaps the third-best song on the album, you’re dealing with some powerful stuff.
Ultimately, this one sticks at a 4.5 because the musicianship and vocals haven’t quite matured to match the intricate nature of Prine’s lyrics just yet. He would have plenty of time to grow into that over the next 5 decades of his career.

One or two interesting tracks but overall it’s pretty unremarkable. Jumping from style to style isn’t showing range if you make them all sound the same. I’m not picking up what she’s putting down. It’s just pretty basic pop to my ears.