Reviews by gregorsmith

So, I finally gave Living Colour's Vivid a spin. I totally get why it was such a big deal in '88, the energy is wild, and Vernon Reid’s guitar work is just unreal. The way they mixed hard rock, funk, and metal was a real wake-up call to all that stale hair metal taking over at the time. Obviously, "Cult of Personality" is a total monster of a track... That opening riff still hits like a truck and sounds just as relevant today.

But, if I’m being real, the rest of the album never really hits those same highs. I definitely respect the talent and the social message on songs like "Open Letter (To A Landlord)," but the production feels pretty dated, and some of the lyrics are a bit clunky.

I know everyone treats this like some holy grail of music, but man, it feels so pretentious to me. It’s basically just dudes standing stiffly behind synths, taking themselves way too seriously while playing "beep boop" over a repetitive train beat. Sitting through ten minutes of cold, joyless minimalism where they just robotically repeat the same lyrics feels less like a listen and more like a total chore. I get that it’s supposedly "high art," but a lot of it just sounds like a self-important art-school project that went on way too long.

That said, as much as the robotic minimalism grates on me, I can't deny the impact. When the back half of the record hits that industrial, clattering vibe on "Metal On Metal" and "Abzug," you can actually hear the blueprint for modern dance music getting written in real-time. Hearing those looping, chant-like vocals on "Abzug," it's super obvious that this is exactly where Daft Punk got their whole "Around The World" vibe. So yeah, it’s an insufferably pretentious listen, but I guess I have to give them credit for basically inventing the future.

I totally get why this is a massive deal for the 2 Tone scene. With Elvis Costello (urgh, he just won't disappear, will he?) behind the boards, that mix of punk grit and ska energy is infectious, and the lyrics do a great job of capturing the vibe of Thatcher’s Britain. It’s got such a cool, upbeat sound that makes it hard not to dance along to tracks like "A Message To You Rudy" and (finally) "Too Much Too Young". I can see how it might get a bit repetitive if you aren't really into ska, and some of the writing is definitely a product of its time, but overall, it’s a high-energy classic.

Despite recognizing its massive influence and the undeniable fun factor of their classic hits, I just couldn't fully connect with the whole package. Plus, it's just another Specials album on here that didn't contain "Ghost Town", so... meh, I guess.

Listening to Teenage Head, you can really hear all those blues-rock and rockabilly vibes running the show. I totally get why people, Mick Jagger included, compare it to Sticky Fingers; it’s got that raw, sweaty garage feel and plenty of early 70s proto-punk swagger. But honestly, while some people might dig that rough-around-the-edges sound, to me it just feels like a generic rip-off of the bands that actually did it better, especially with all the repetitive riffs and basic blues tropes.

It’s not a completely terrible record, and if these guys were playing in my local dive bar, I'd probably have a good night. But as an essential, must-listen experience, it falls flat and feels entirely skippable. As already said, the similarities to the Rolling Stones are very apparent, except everyone has heard of the Rolling Stones and ain't nobody lamenting about not listening to this average rock album.

This might be his Purple Badness at his absolute peak, it was number one forever in 1984 (a year with only 5 #1 albums BTW) and had more hot hits than you've had hot dinners. Listening to it now, it's impossible to deny the sheer, unadulterated genius on display. The album is an absolute riot of genre-blending... Seamlessly fusing rock, funk, pop, and R&B into a slick, synth-heavy masterpiece. Sure, some might find the production a bit firmly trapped in its 80s time capsule or find the excessive, sex-crazed screeching a bit over the top, but the raw musicianship and electrifying charisma completely overshadow those critiques. From the frantic, sermon-like energy of "Let's Go Crazy" to the sparse, bass-less perfection of "When Doves Cry," the entire record is dripping with grandiose, oversized ambition.

What really gets me is how people overlook Prince’s insane guitar skills just because he had that flashy pop persona. The title track is an eight-minute masterpiece, and that final guitar solo is honestly one of the best, most soulful things I've ever heard. The whole record is just dripping with cheesy, over-the-top, and super sexual energy, but Prince is so talented that he totally makes it work. It’s wild, it’s excessive, and it’s absolute perfection.

Had a blast listening to this one, it’s like a total time capsule of the early 60s. Solomon Burke’s voice is just unreal, he can go from smooth and soulful to a rough, gritty wail at the drop of a hat. "Cry To Me" is a total standout and honestly shows why he’s one of the godfathers of the genre.

That said, you can definitely tell it's an older record. The production feels a bit dated at times, the backing choirs are super cheesy, and some of the instrumentation is a little flat, which takes away from Burke’s incredible performance. Plus, since it’s basically just a collection of singles rather than a cohesive album, it can get a little repetitive by the end, and some of the lyrics are definitely showing their age. Still, his raw talent is so good it carries the whole thing. Does exactly what it says, rock and soul, beautifully done.

This might be Tom Waits at his most Tom Wait-ness. The whole album just pulls you into a smoky, seedy dive bar full of characters straight out of a noir film. It swings between gritty blues-rock and some really tender, string-heavy ballads, all anchored by that absolutely wild voice of his. Honestly, the first time you hear it, it sounds like he’s gargling glass while chain-smoking, but once it clicks, you realize there’s no other way he could sell these stories.

If you can get past the gravelly delivery, the songwriting is straight-up poetry. I loved how he finds beauty in the gutter with dirty, organ-driven tracks like "Downtown," then flips it completely for something as warm and soulful as "Jersey Girl."

I hate how much I still like this because the artist is such a repulsive human being, but I have to admit that My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is an absolute maximalist masterpiece. It is incredibly difficult to separate the art from the artist, especially when that artist has devolved into a narcissistic, antisemitic shell of his former self. The production is just insane, it's this huge, over-the-top wall of sound that hits perfectly, from the horns on "All Of The Lights" to the lonesome piano on "Runaway." The ambition here is on another level.

Honestly, the features are what make this record hold up. Nicki’s verse on "Monster" is legendary (another one who fell off the crazy deep end), and Rick Ross and Bon Iver just kill it on their tracks. Looking back, the lyrics about fame and spiraling feel pretty prophetic, which makes it a super uncomfortable listen today. I really wanted to rate this low out of principle like I have in the past, but strictly for the art and how big of a mark it left on music, I’m giving it a reluctant five stars.

Surprisingly HARD 60s rock featuring a few genuinely great originals and a whole lot of covers, which is par for the course for the era. Going through this daily project, it's fascinating to unearth a record from 1965 that sounds this aggressively lo-fi and blown-out. The sheer primal energy of the band is infectious, between the frantic drumming, the blaring sax, and Gerry Roslie’s absolutely unhinged, throat-shredding screams, they play with a reckless abandon that makes it completely obvious why they're cited as the godfathers of garage rock and punk.

While originals like "The Witch" and "Strychnine" are absolute standouts with a surprisingly dark, menacing swagger, the heavy reliance on standard rock and R&B covers does drag it down just a bit for me. A lot of them feel like inferior versions of songs the Beatles or Chuck Berry already perfected, just played with the amps pushed to the absolute limit. Still, even with the muddy, claustrophobic production and the relentless barrage of shrieks, it's a wildly fun, sub-30-minute burst of unpretentious rock 'n' roll that hits like a punch in the face.

I can see the appeal of this album if you’re looking for complex electronic textures to get into a "flow state" or need some pulsing background music while you work. There are undeniable moments of atmospheric brilliance and hypnotic rhythms here, but honestly, as a pure active listening experience, it feels like an absolute endurance contest. Kicking things off with two sprawling, repetitive 15-minute tracks is a bold choice that immediately tests your patience, making the whole 74-minute runtime feel incredibly bloated if you're just sitting at home sober.

I get it... this would probably be transcendent in a sweaty, dark club in the 90s, but that energy doesn't translate perfectly to a casual afternoon listen. It just drags on endlessly with minimal variation or lyrical substance, leaving me desperately waiting for it to finally wrap up. I can only imagine this was added because of the massive hit "Born Slippy" but it's not even on the regular version of this, and I'll be damned if I'm listening to an even longer version just for *that*.

Sinatra’s voice is absolute perfection on this, he really nails that iconic 50s heartbreak sound. It’s the ultimate late night, moody record, and with those lush arrangements by Nelson Riddle, it’s basically the audio equivalent of staring out a window with a glass of whiskey on a rainy night. It’s a total classic that absolutely nails its vibe.

That said, 50 minutes of straight-up sad ballads can get a little repetitive. Since the tempo never really changes, it starts to drag if you're trying to pay close attention to every single track.

I really wanted to root for The Monkees. It’s a great underdog story, a fake TV band fighting for control just so they could play their own instruments, but honestly, Headquarters didn't do it for me. Instead of feeling like a big artistic statement, it just came off as safe, generic, and kind of boring. It mostly sounds like a watered-down, unoriginal take on The Beatles.

Considering this came out in 1967, right when rock was getting super experimental and weird, they just sounded way behind the times. I give them props for trying to be a "real" band, but they didn't have the charm or the talent of the groups they were clearly copying. It’s formulaic, dated pop that honestly just made me want to go listen to the real thing instead.

Felt Mountain feels like the soundtrack to a moody, cinematic noir film or maybe a lost Bond sequence. From the start, I was pulled into this smoky world where 60s lounge vibes meet 2000s trip hop. Alison Goldfrapp’s vocals are haunting and ethereal, kind of like a mix of Portishead and Shirley Bassey. It’s super hypnotic and sensual, almost overly so, but feeling both retro and totally otherworldly.

I enjoyed this, it’s a little bit jazzy, a little bit funky, and completely unpredictable. I get why some people find it a bit much; with 23 short tracks packed into an hour, it feels like a fever dream that keeps flipping between hip-hop, soul, and yacht rock. Thundercat’s high-pitched vocals and non-stop bass riffs can definitely get overwhelming, and I can see how the constant jumping around might feel pretty chaotic or even tiring. But honestly? I loved how weird it was.

Underneath all the random lyrics and fuzzy, lo-fi production, the actual music is incredible. Thundercat has this genius way of mixing a modern sound with massive legends, like getting Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald on "Show You the Way", which is just brilliant, and you can't help but groove to tracks like "Them Changes." The whole album feels like a funny, late-night trip through his brain.

Oh fuck, I thought I was free of Declan's gravity, apparently not... Brutal Youth felt like an absolute slog. At nearly an hour long, it’s a tedious, overlong collection of bland 90s alt-pop that just drags on and on. Like so many others going through this 1001 Albums list, I am completely exhausted by the sheer number of Elvis Costello records we're forced to endure, seriously, six albums is absurd. His signature sneering, pitchy vocals are incredibly grating here, making all the tracks blend together into one unremarkable mush. And honestly, this is boring as hell. Why couldn't they pick Spike instead? At least that had "Veronica" and "Tramp The Dirt Down".

I remember the hoopla about this band at the time, and Evan Dando seemed to be omnipresent throughout the 90s, but after listening to It's A Shame About Ray now, I just don't fully see why. It’s definitely a fun, breezy throwback to early 90s alt rock with all those short, jangly songs that don't drag on, but honestly? It feels pretty lightweight and generic and it’s missing the edge or depth to really stand out from all the other college rock bands floating around back then.

The whole thing is over in less than 30 minutes, and yeah, tracks like "Confetti" and the title song have some catchy hooks, Juliana Hatfield’s backing vocals are a nice touch, too. Still, it says a lot that their biggest song is that tacked-on, punky "Mrs. Robinson" cover.

This album is such a raw, vulnerable look at a relationship falling apart. It’s peak Dylan storytelling for me, especially "Tangled Up In Blue" and "Idiot Wind" thats show just how brilliant his writing is when it's all stripped back. The lyrics feel like deep, painful stories that really drag you into all that regret and bitterness. It’s a total breakup masterpiece that feels just as heavy and personal today as it did back then.

I know the nasal vocals and screechy harmonica aren't everyone's cup of tea, they can be a lot if you're not used to them. But if you can look past that and really listen to the lyrics, it’s easily one of the best breakup records ever made. It’s an emotional gut-punch that proves why he’s arguably the greatest songwriter of all time.

One of those rare live albums that doesn't contain instantly memorable songs but moves along at breakneck pace to give you a feel for the ferocity of a Who live show. It’s super fast, gritty, and you can practically smell the amps smoking while Keith Moon goes absolutely wild on the drums. Even though it’s mostly covers and only has a few original hits like "My Generation," they really make every song their own. Stick to the original, shorter version of the album though, it skips the awkward stage talk and keeps the energy high from start to finish. It’s raw, messy, and a total blast.

A pretty basic punk album, nothing really special, but it definitely has its moments and captures that wild 70s CBGB vibe perfectly. You can really hear how they set the stage for bands like the Ramones. The tight guitar solos and random covers like "I Got You Babe" are pretty charming, but the whole thing starts to feel like a bit of a one-note joke after a while.

Weirdly feels like a 90s R&B record, right down to the interludes. Listening to A Seat at the Table, I’m immediately hooked by the minimalist neo-soul vibe and Solange’s airy vocals. It’s a super cohesive, well-crafted project that wears its message of Black empowerment on its sleeve. "Cranes in the Sky" is a total standout, the perfect mix of chill production and deep lyrics, and it’s easy to see why this is considered a modern classic.

That said, I get why some people aren't fully sold on it. The tempo is so laid-back that it can occasionally drag, and I found myself wishing for a few more catchy hooks to shake things up. Also, while the spoken-word segments definitely add to the message, they really kill the momentum and get a bit repetitive after a few listens.