Reviews by gregorsmith

Listening to Lady in Satin feels like watching a legend fade out, and honestly, it’s a tough sit. You can really hear how worn down her voice was by this point, that classic range is gone, replaced by a gravelly, fragile tone that’s pretty hard to ignore. While you can still hear those signature emotional phrasings she’s famous for, the syrupy, over-the-top backing music just doesn’t fit; it feels way too schmaltzy and keeps clashing with her vocals instead of lifting them up.

Beyond the tragic backstory, it's not her best work... I would have put "Lady Sings The Blues" on this list instead, and the whole record is just kind of a slog. Everything blurs into one long, forty-minute sigh where the tempo and the mood never really change. It’s definitely heavy to hear an icon pouring her heart out like this, but musically, it’s just too monotonous and drags on forever. It’s a pretty disappointing way to remember someone as legendary as Billie Holiday.

I went into this expecting an obscure piece of 70s kitsch, and while that is undeniably what it is, you cannot talk about Bongo Rock without recognizing its massive footprint. "Apache" absolutely still goes hard as the breakbeat is practically woven into the DNA of hip-hop, and hearing where so many foundational samples originated gives the whole thing an immediate, infectious jolt. The studio musicianship is tight, the horns and fuzzy guitars have plenty of swagger, and there is an undeniable b-movie, crate-digger joy when tracks like "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" or "Bongolia" hit full stride.

Outside of those undeniable grooves, however, the concept wears thin fast: you truly have to love bongos to make it through without feeling like you've been trapped in the 1970s on an infinite loop.

To be honest, Wild Gift is pretty much the definition of mid. There’s some cool energy with those gritty, rootsy punk riffs, and the way John Doe and Exene trade vocals definitely gives it a distinct vibe. Tracks like "Adult Books" and "White Girl" are catchy enough and don't drag on forever, so the musicianship is definitely there.

That said, once the initial novelty wears off, it’s hard not to just zone out. Everything starts to blend into this repetitive, thin-sounding blur, and those strained harmonies get old fast. It’s not a bad album, but it’s honestly pretty forgettable and definitely doesn’t live up to the massive hype it usually gets. It’s fine as background noise, but not much more than that.

Honestly, putting on Rid of Me feels less like listening to music and more like bracing for an attack. Steve Albini’s production is so raw and abrasive that the sudden jumps from quiet to deafening actually hit you like a punch. Polly is an absolute force here, she sounds feral, snarling and whispering her way through songs about obsession and power with a post-punk blues energy that doesn't care if you're uncomfortable. Some of the production choices, like the screeching strings on "Man-Size Sextet", are definitely jarring, but it all feels intentional.

Beyond the killer title track and "50ft Queenie", her cover of "Highway 61 Revisited" is completely unhinged. She takes Dylan’s song and turns it into a frantic, nerve shredding sprint that she makes entirely her own. It’s an exhausting, uncompromising listen that isn't exactly built for casual background music, but for pure, raw intensity, it’s one of her most powerful records.

Station to Station is such a wild, contradictory ride, especially knowing how deep Bowie was into his cocaine phase at the time. It’s super short (I mean, only six songs) but it feels like a total fever dream. The band is incredibly tight, blending that slick soul vibe with those icy, experimental grooves that really paved the way for his Berlin stuff. Whether it’s the long, driving title track or the catchy strut of "Golden Years", the whole record has this nervous, high-stakes energy that’s hard to ignore.

That said, it’s not for everyone. If you’re not into his Thin White Duke persona, the drama and detachment might just come off as a bit much or even self-indulgent. Some parts, like "TVC15," lean pretty hard into that weird, vaudevillian territory, which can be exhausting. But just when it feels like things might go off the rails, he hits you with something raw like "Word On A Wing" or that "Wild Is The Wind" cover that completely grounds it. It’s definitely a messy, brilliant, and uncomfortable classic, the sound of an artist losing his mind and somehow making it work perfectly.

On paper, bringing together Damon Albarn, Paul Simonon, Simon Tong, Tony Allen, and Danger Mouse sounds like lightning in a bottle, but the actual record feels frustratingly lesser than the sum of its parts. It’s a bit of a letdown, honestly. Don't get me wrong, it’s not a train wreck; there’s some moody, atmospheric stuff going on. Allen’s rhythm section is solid as always, and songs like "Herculean" and "Kingdom Of Doom" show off that weird, dub-psych vibe they were going for. The production is sharp and gives it this damp, gloomy London feel that’s fine to have on in the background.

The main issue is that for a supergroup like this, nothing here really sticks or feels finished. Albarn just mumbles his way through the whole thing, and the tracks start to bleed into each other, turning into polite, sleepy mid-tempo filler. Everything feels like it's building toward something interesting but never actually gets there, leaving the whole album sounding more like a bunch of B-sides than a must-listen classic. It’s an okay diversion, but pretty forgettable given who's involved.

It’s easy to see why this is called the "lost" Beach Boys album, and that comes with a lot of highs and lows. On one hand, it’s honestly moving to hear Brian Wilson finally finish his 1967 passion project after all he’s been through. When it hits, like on "Surf's Up", "Heroes And Villains", or "Good Vibrations", you get that classic symphonic genius with all the beautiful, layered harmonies you’d hope for.

But if you look past the legend, the actual listening experience is pretty all over the place. It skips the usual song structures for these stitched together musical sketches that flip flop between stunning chamber pop and weird, cartoonish stuff with slide whistles and animal noises. Without the original 60s Beach Boys vocal blend, Brian's older voice and the super-polished 2004 production make some of it feel more like a Broadway show than a psychedelic masterpiece.

Ladies and gentlemen, it is Star Time... and make no mistake, James Brown is a goddamn star in every conceivable way. Throwing on Live at the Apollo is like catching lightning in a bottle, it’s an electric, sweaty snapshot of history where James Brown absolutely commands the stage with insane swagger. Backed by the Famous Flames, a band so tight it’s actually scary, the whole set hits you like a freight train. From the stomping groove of "Think" to the raw, vulnerable vibe of "Lost Someone" and the smooth soul of "Try Me", Brown handles both the band and the crowd like a total pro. It’s a lesson in pacing and grit, all before funk even really hit its stride.

That said, it’s not exactly a perfect listen. The early-60s production is pretty rough, the screaming fans can sometimes drown out the music, and it’s hard to ignore the reality of what kind of guy Brown was off-stage. At barely thirty minutes, it’s over way too fast, leaving you wishing they’d squeezed in a few more of his later hits. But it’s impossible to deny, it’s a wild, raucous 31 minutes of pure soul power that grabs you by the throat and shows exactly why he’s the legend he is.

Finally something good after a long run of mediocre albums, fuckin' Guns N' Roses are here to kick your ass. Loaded with hits and drenched in sleazy vibes, this record is honestly almost too good for a debut album. From the first blast of "Welcome To The Jungle," this thing is a total adrenaline shot. It completely ditches that polished hair metal vibe for something way grittier and more dangerous. Slash is on fire here, and tracks like "Paradise City" and "Sweet Child O' Mine" are absolute anthems for a reason... the energy is just off the charts.

That said, it’s definitely a wild ride with some rough patches. Axl’s screaming and sex noises gets a bit exhausting by the time you hit the end, and the lyrics are pretty toxic and haven't aged well at all. Once you get past the massive hits, some of the deep cuts kind of just blend together into filler. But even with the dated sleaze and the grating moments, you can't ignore how huge this record is. It’s a messy, loud, and iconic piece of rock history that’s hard not to respect.

I really tried to get into this one, but listening to Two Dancers felt like a total drag. Honestly? It just comes across as a boring, watered down version of bands like Arcade Fire or Doves. A few of the tracks have decent enough grooves with some nice bass and percussion, but it never really goes anywhere... it just stays stuck in this limp, repetitive loop that feels pretty unoriginal.

The biggest issue for me is the singing. I know some people like the quirky, high-pitched falsetto, but I found it super annoying. It’s way too affected and dramatic, and it just clashes with the music to the point where it almost sounds like a parody.

I really don't get how this one made the cut for a "must-listen" list. It kicks off with a wall of super processed, generic 80s synth-pop that just sounds totally dated and lifeless to me. Instead of finding the production charming, I just found the whole thing mind-numbing; every track is stuck in the same sterile loop of Casio keyboards and gated drums that have zero energy or soul.

By the halfway mark, I was already checking how much was left because it was such a drag. The vocals were way too sugary and just clashed with those repetitive, plastic-sounding beats.

It’s often said that you're supposed to separate the art from the artist,and it’s undeniably beautiful music created by a deeply reprehensible human. On a purely sonic level, the record is a polished, comfortable slice of early 2000s Americana that proudly wears its Springsteen, Young, and Dylan influences on its sleeve. Tracks like "When The Stars Go Blue" and "New York, New York" offer some catchy, nostalgic melodies, even if the album as a whole can feel bloated, generic, and far longer than it needs to be.

But no matter how pleasant the acoustic guitars and harmonicas might sound, the undeniable "ick factor" always creeps in. Every time I try to settle into the folksy, lovelorn grooves, I'm reminded of the well-documented allegations of his manipulative, emotionally abusive, and predatory behavior toward women. It completely strips the sincerity out of the songwriting, turning what might have been a decent country-rock album into a hollow and uncomfortable slog.

To get anything out of All Hope Is Gone, I’ve found you really have to be in a very specific frame of mind, otherwise, it just feels like a non-stop, exhausting assault. It’s a wall of machine-gun drums, heavy guitars, and constant screaming that can definitely overwhelm you if you aren't looking for that specific kind of aggression. But even when the chaos gets a bit much, you can’t deny the technical skill under the masks. Joey Jordison’s drumming is an absolute beast, and he brings a crazy level of tightness to tracks like "Gematria" and "Psychosocial" that turns the noise into something genuinely powerful.

It’s definitely not as unhinged as their earlier stuff, but it’s an interesting mix. It’s half-pulverizing metal and half-melodic breather, and I can imagine it hits the spot whenever you need a bit of a cathartic, loud soundtrack.

I, meanwhile, did not.

it's absurdly missing from streaming due to being locked in a sample clearance purgatory but the listening experience itself is boombastic, fantastic, golden age hip-hop euphoria from front to back. Its focus on Black love and conscious pride is infectious, with standout tracks like "Tribe Vibes" and "Doin' Our Own Dang." Despite a long runtime and some dated rhymes, the soulful energy makes this a criminally overlooked classic. Five stars.

I'll tell you what, Loretta was out here preaching her own brand of folksy feminism long before the suits in Nashville were ready for it, and she clearly ain't here for any of your shit, son. She’s serving up sharp, no-nonsense storytelling about staying strong and holding your ground when your husband is out doing you wrong. Even if you aren't usually one for old-school country, it’s damn near impossible not to respect a woman who can flip the bird to a cheating, abusive husband while hitting a flawless, sweet vibrato. It's simple, it's brutally honest, and it's an absolute masterclass in taking the ugly side of life and turning it into country gold.

In this house, we love Americana and we love Emmylou, so it’s no surprise that Red Dirt Girl resonates so deeply with me. Even though it was her nineteenth album, it feels like a total breakthrough since she finally took the lead on the songwriting. She totally moves past typical country vibes here, leaning into this lush, dreamy folk-Americana sound. The production is super atmospheric with lots of cool textures and quiet beats that just wrap around her voice. It’s a bold move that shows she can experiment without losing her roots.

The whole listen is just super emotional. Her writing has this heavy, melancholic weight to it, especially on tracks like "Red Dirt Girl" and that gut-wrenching song for her dad, "Bang the Drum Slowly." It’s definitely a slow, reflective burn, but it never drags, it just kind of washes over you but it needs to come with a warning sticker as it has some unadvertised Dave Matthews...

I’ll admit, staring down a 90-minute, double-disc rock opera about Lynyrd Skynyrd is intimidating, and the album is undeniably polarizing. This one’s a real head-scratcher to have on the list, it doesn’t really feel like an essential pick. It’s pretty bloated, the vocals are hit or miss, and there are definitely a few tracks that should’ve been cut. But beneath all the gritty, whiskey-soaked dive-bar vibes, there’s actually a surprisingly deep look at the "duality of the Southern thing".

The band doesn’t dodge the messy realities of the region, hitting on the legacy of racism and the twisted mythology of people like George Wallace, all while laying down some great storytelling and killer riffs. Honestly, it hit way harder than I expected, though I imagine you’ve gotta have some experience living in the South to fully get it. It nails that weird mix of pride, frustration, and survival that defines the place.

I started listening to Chris and ended up liking its weird, stylish vibe. It’s definitely got those catchy '80s synth-pop echoes, channeling major MJ and Prince energy with a cool, gender-fluid twist. The production is super clean, and honestly, the French version hits way harder and feels more authentic than the English one. Songs like "Girlfriend" and "Doesn't Matter" are total bops and show off some really fun, experimental pop instincts.

But, essential? I'm not totally sold. Even though I dug some of the hooks, a lot of the record just felt like a generic, polished throwback. Plus, the double-album thing where its doing the same tracklist in two languages just makes the whole experience drag, and after a while, the synth beats just kind of fade into background noise.

It feels like another Radiohead album I'm supposed to like... And I mostly do, but sometimes I'd rather listen to The Bends, you know?

A bit like Kid A, this was another Radiohead album I really needed to grow into. When In Rainbows initially came out in 2007 amid the massive hype of its whole pay-what-you-want release (I paid NOTHING), I honestly didn't appreciate it. Its serene, mid-tempo vibe almost felt like background music, lacking the sprawling angst of OK Computer or the weirdness of Kid A. But echoing the sentiments of so many others who took time to crack its code, this record is the ultimate grower. Coming back to it, I finally realise how beautifully warm, intimate, and accessible it is. It’s the sound of a band completely in control, trading their usual dystopian dread for intricate, melancholic beauty. It might have taken me years to truly understand it, but In Rainbows is a great album. Is it a must have? Ehhh, debatable, but it has its place in my collection.

I was expecting some cool, trailblazing glam rock, but honestly, this record is a total mess. I can see the bluesy, hard rock roots that probably influenced bands like AC/DC or Nick Cave, but the songs are just buried under all the exhausting, over-the-top theatrics. It feels way less like a solid rock album and more like a weird, deranged screen test for The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The vocals are super grating and drift into this annoying pantomime that makes it hard to take the musicianship seriously.

The whole vibe is ruined by the sleazy, immature writing. Tracks like "Gang Bang" are just repulsive and kill any momentum the album manages to build.