Reviews by gregorsmith

Sinatra twice in one month, I’m feeling like Lauren Bacall at this point. The album is basically a greatest hits collection, and he's at his absolute best here. That signature swagger is dialed all the way up, and with those lush arrangements from Nelson Riddle, it’s impossible not to get swept up in the vibe. It’s like a warm, classy time machine straight to a 50s cocktail party.

That said, listening to the whole thing in one go can get a bit repetitive since the style never really changes. It’s perfect for background music, but I’m not sure it’s something I’ll be putting on for an active listening session that often. Still, when I want that classic, smooth jazz sound, Ol' Blue Eyes is impossible to beat.

Never rated The Divine Comedy, didn't rate them the time their other album in this list came up, and i still don't rate them today...

I remember the first time I heard "Inertiatic Esp", coming in like a jumpscare, proper screamo style, and I weirdly enjoyed it. That frantic, explosive transition perfectly captures what it feels like to listen to De-Loused in the Comatorium, it is a beautiful, deeply polarizing exercise in organized chaos. The musicianship is absolutely insane, with those wild drums and frenetic guitar riffs blending prog, post-hardcore, and Latin jazz into a total wall of sound. I get why it puts some people off, between the screechy vocals and the cryptic lyrics, it can definitely feel like a bit of an exhausting, overstimulating fever dream. It’s a total "love it or hate it" experience, but I’m honestly just hooked on that raw, unhinged energy.

The way the tracks bleed into each other keeps the momentum going, which is key. I remember someone playing the intro, "Son et Lumière", on a pub jukebox once, and you could practically feel the room deflate when it didn't immediately launch into "Inertiatic Esp". That’s the magic and the frustration of this thing: it demands you experience it on its own terms and refuses to give you any breathing room. You either get lost in the labyrinth or you end up totally buried by the noise. Either way, it’s a hell of an adrenaline-fueled ride.

Another album that you have to hunt for, and yet another where the juice was absolutely not worth the squeeze. While it mixes cabaret with political protest, the 26 tracks feel like unfinished snippets rather than a cohesive album. The vocals are shrill and the theatrical style becomes grating. It is technically interesting, but a chore to listen to and better read about than experienced.

I wasn't expecting this at all! When I think of Brian Eno, I usually picture super deep, moody ambient stuff, not weird, catchy art-pop. But the first half of this record is surprisingly funky and energetic. Songs like "No One Receiving" and "King's Lead Hat" have this cool, danceable vibe. It's a playful side of Eno that feels way ahead of its time, like he was basically writing the rulebook for 80s new wave back in 77.

Then the album pulls a brilliant move. Right around the middle, the jittery rock energy fades out and you’re suddenly floating in these lush, dreamy soundscapes. It’s not depressing or boring, it’s just warm and super relaxing. "By This River" is a total gem, and "Spider and I" is the perfect way to wrap things up. It’s basically an album of two halves: the quirky pop-rock stuff transitioning into the ambient genius he’s famous for.

Obligatory "Morrissey is a twat"... OK, now that's out the way, I genuinely couldn't wait for this insufferable, pretentious chore of an album to end. Listening to this feels less like enjoying music and more like being cornered at a pub by the most exhausting, self-satisfied twat imaginable. From the painfully on-the-nose, youth-hostel geopolitics of "America Is Not The World" to the blatant Reform UK dogwhistling of "Irish Blood, English Heart," the whole thing reeks of a miserable narcissist desperate to play the victim while spewing reactionary nonsense. He moans about being called out for his own bigotry, masking his contempt for the rest of humanity behind a veil of pseudo-intellectual martyrdom.

And without Johnny Marr around to inject some actual artistry into the proceedings, the music itself is relentlessly dull. It’s just generic, lifeless backing tracks that exist solely as a vehicle for his droning, self-pitying lectures. Half the time, it sounds like he’s just awkwardly cramming too many syllables into a bar, stretching random words out with that signature croon that has long since lost any of its charm. It's an utterly joyless, musically bankrupt slog from a deeply unpleasant man who really just needs to shut up and retire already.

I’ve been pretty tough on Bowie throughout this whole project, mostly because his ambient stuff, like the Berlin Trilogy, just doesn't do it for me. And honestly, even Ziggy Stardust isn't 100% perfect... tracks like "It Ain't Easy" definitely drag compared to the rest. That said, you can’t deny how much raw, theatrical energy this record has. From the drum build-up in "Five Years" to the huge, moody finish of "Rock 'N' Roll Suicide," the whole rock opera thing just works.

When this album is on, it’s basically glam-rock perfection. "Starman", "Moonage Daydream", and "Suffragette City" are absolute bangers, and Mick Ronson’s guitar work makes them sound huge. It’s rare to find a record that’s this ambitious and theatrical without ending up super cheesy. Even with my ongoing Bowie burnout, blasting this thing at full volume is a total blast. It’s a stone-cold classic for a reason.

An easy five, but it took me a few years to come around to Portishead. Trip-hop wasn't my thing initially, and this beating Oasis' Definitely Maybe for the 95 Mercury Prize was something akin to sacrilegious. But once I caught their Roseland NYC show on Channel 4 late one night, I was completely struck. I finally understood the haunting, cinematic atmosphere everyone raves about, it's like the soundtrack to a moody Bond or 3 AM noir film. The production is a masterclass in restraint, blending crackling vinyl, heavy bass lines, and sluggish hip-hop beats in a way that feels completely timeless rather than just a '90s relic.

What really anchored it for me was how effortless Beth Gibbons makes it, singing so soulfully with that fragile, smoky voice while sucking down a pack of Superkings between (and during) songs, while the rest of the band were just vibing so well. Anyway, every track here feels like an essential piece of an immersive, dark puzzle. "Sour Times" and "Glory Box" are impeccable, genre-defining classics, but don't sleep on "Strangers", "Roads" and "Mysterons" either. It’s a flawless, hypnotic masterpiece that I now keep on permanent rotation.

I wasn't sure what to expect going into this, but I ended up totally hooked. It’s a brilliant mix of ambient, new wave, and synth-pop that makes the whole album fly by. You can really hear the blueprint for the entire 80s synth pop sound in here; it nails that balance between experimental, industrial textures and these gorgeous, emotional melodies and samples. It honestly sounds way ahead of its time for 1981.

The vibe stays super immersive from start to finish, sometimes it’s dark and moody like post-punk, other times it’s bright, dreamy, and weirdly warm. "Souvenir" and both versions of "Joan Of Arc" are absolute highlights that manage to make cold, synthetic music feel really human and deep.

Listening to The Predator today, it’s both incredible and deeply sobering to realize how much of this album still hits with the exact same urgency it did in the shadow of the 1992 LA riots. Ice Cube’s aggressive flow and venomous, socially conscious lyrics dissecting police brutality and systemic racism are unfortunately just as relevant now as they were over 30 years ago. Sometimes it's hard to genuinely say these themes are timeless, but the proof is right there in the lyrics. Three songs in, on "Wicked", Cube spits, "And I won't choke like the Buffalo Bills", and here we are 34 years later, and the Bills still be choking... Really makes you think.

The production on this goes hard, the beats and samples are just next level, and the whole thing has such a raw, gritty energy. That said, it’s definitely a product of its time; the casual misogyny and homophobia in the lyrics make for some pretty uncomfortable listening in 2026. It’s pretty intense and doesn't really let up, but the delivery is so powerful that you can't help but pay attention. "It Was A Good Day" is a total standout, though, that chilled-out vibe is a perfect breath of fresh air in the middle of all the chaos. It’s got its flaws, but it’s a total classic of West Coast hip-hop.

Throwing this on takes me straight back to the 90s, and honestly, it still holds up. I love how they mixed up grunge, shoegaze, and industrial vibes with such catchy pop hooks. Butch Vig’s production is the perfect playground for Shirley Manson’s vocals, she’s just effortlessly cool and has that quintessential GenX edge. From "Supervixen" to the dreamy finish on "Milk," the whole thing has this moody energy that’s super nostalgic but still feels like its own thing.

Yeah, you can definitely tell it's a product of the 90s, and a few of the deeper cuts don't hit quite as hard as the massive radio hits like "Stupid Girl" or "Only Happy When It Rains", but the quality is undeniable.

I was honestly surprised by how much I dug this one. I was expecting the usual Alice Cooper shock-rock stuff, but this feels more like a campy Broadway show disguised as a glam-rock record. The playing is actually really solid, the guitars are crunchy, the bass is tight, the lyrics are twisted and there's such a weird mix of sounds, from the over-the-top cabaret vibe of "Hello Hooray" to the super pretty piano on "Mary Ann".

This is proper dark Cure, not the semi-poppy Cure of the later 80s/early 90s. When I listen to Pornography, I feel like I'm sinking into a magnificent, drug-fueled fever dream of absolute despair. It’s a completely absorbing, oppressive wall of sound that perfectly captures a band on the brink of collapse. Robert Smith’s anguished vocals, discordant guitars, and nihilistic lyrics wash over you, creating an atmosphere so bleak and heavy it almost feels like drowning in tar. It’s not an album you put on to have a good time; it's a raw, emotional descent into the void.

I really wanted to dig this one, especially with those gritty, fuzzy opening tracks. It’s got some cool psychedelic moments, but the whole thing feels like a total mess. It’s not really a cohesive album... just a bunch of songs thrown together, jumping from solid garage rock to weird, vaudeville-style filler that makes no sense.

The second half is a real drag, and the inconsistency is impossible to ignore. Those manic, novelty songs completely kill the dark, cool vibe they started with. I appreciate the few gems buried in there, but there’s just way too much skip-worthy fluff to make it a great listen. Honestly, just stick to the main singles and leave the rest of this headache inducing record alone.

Honestly, this album is more than just a few good tracks, and I’m honestly just glad Clapton wasn’t allowed to completely take over, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker really kept him in check. I’m not a fan of Clapton at all, but I have to give it up for the heavy psych-blues sound they created here. It’s basically the blueprint for the late 60s. Songs like "Sunshine of Your Love" and "Strange Brew" are absolute staples for a reason, and the way Bruce and Baker lock into those grooves is just incredible.

That said, it does start to drag whenever they wander away from that heavy sound. Tracks like "Blue Condition" or that weird "Mother's Lament" song just feel like filler and kill the vibe. It’s definitely a classic record that had a huge impact on rock history, but it’s still got some spots where it’s just a bit too much of a self-indulgent jam session for me.

This is a genuinely fun garage rock record that totally caught me off guard. Listening to it feels like strapping yourself to a wild, chaotic engine. It's just pure, raw rock and roll that perfectly bridges the gap between 60s garage rock and the punk scene that followed. It’s loud, heavy, and you can definitely hear the blueprint for decades of punk and metal in here. You can’t just have this on in the background, it needs to be played at max volume to really feel that primal energy.

Look, I don’t care how many times people insist you have to listen to this album to finally "get it", once was more than enough. Listening to this feels less like enjoying music and more like surviving an 80 minute hostage situation. It honestly sounds like a group of talented musicians were forced to tumble down a flight of stairs while all trying to play completely different songs at the exact same time.

I can appreciate the guts it took to record something this abrasive, but that doesn’t make it fun to listen to. It’s an absolute chore from start to finish, with zero rhythm or melody to grab onto. If the goal was to make the most headache inducing musical endurance test ever, they nailed it. If I could give it zero stars, I would.

You can't deny how massive this record is, and listening to it now reminds me exactly why Madonna is the Queen of Pop. The production is spot on, especially with those funky Prince-inspired guitar parts. The best tracks are legendary, "Like a Prayer", "Express Yourself", and "Cherish" are basically the blueprints for late '80s pop. Madonna had the (Blond) Ambition, and the 3 aforementioned singles are absolute monsters, but the rest kind of brings the overall shine down.

I appreciate the deeper, more vulnerable stuff like "Oh Father", but a lot of the other tracks just feel like dated, over-produced filler that kills the vibe.

I swear, I audibly groaned when Declan popped up on the list again, well, it was more of an expletive laden exclamation.. It feels like every time I turn around, there’s another Elvis Costello album to slog through, and honestly, my patience is totally over. Imperial Bedroom is supposed to be his big, sophisticated masterpiece, the one where he swaps his raw, new-wave energy for fancy, baroque-pop arrangements. Yeah? Fuck off Declan, get when you get there, fuck off some more.

I really wanted to love Hypnotised, but it ultimately feels like the classic case of another post-punk band who hit the highs in an earlier album, and struggle to match that magic here. There are definitely some fun, bouncy moments here, but it lacks that raw, immediate punch I was looking for. Songs like "My Perfect Cousin" and "There Goes Norman" show they’ve still got a knack for catchy hooks, but a lot of the album just feels like polite, bubblegum pop that doesn't really go anywhere.

My main issue is how uneven the whole thing is. Feargal Sharkey’s vibrato starts to get pretty grating after a while, and that "Under the Boardwalk" cover is a totally unnecessary skip.