krill_42

This must be one of the most unique concept albums ever made. I mean, yeah, it's about love. But then again, when you have 69 songs to spread it across, you end up with a song about nearly every facet of it. And of course, like any triple album (or whatever you want to call it), it has its flaws. So what? Love has its downsides, too. That's the very essence of the concept and its subject matter.

It's moody, it's euphoric, it's lo-fi, it's disgusting, it's sugarcoated, it's down-to-earth, it's playful, it's horny, it's heartbroken. And... if you open your album with Absolutely Cuckoo (!) and follow it up with out-of-this-world great bangers such as Nothing Matters When We're Dancing (!!) and Long-Forgotten Fairytale (!!!), you've got all the arguments you need to consider this one of the finest works of music created in the '90s (or, frankly, any decade of the 20th or 21st century).

Fuck it. I would defend 69 Love Songs against anything. An incredible, undeniable, immortal piece of art. Big time!

Ahh, this had to be it, right? I mean, it 100% doesn’t fit any of the categories (Genre Highlight, inventive, influential, …) that would make it eligible, and it absolutely shouldn’t be on this list. No way. That being said, it does bring a smile to my face listening to it today. Not because the lyrics are great or anything (God forbid), but because it’s a solid garage rocker with a distinctive vocalist. And most importantly: memories.

See, I love the first three The Strokes records, and coming from a very rural small town (in Europe), I probably wouldn’t have known about The Strokes for a long time if it weren’t for the liner notes of the Youth & Young Manhood CD. Miraculously, there was a tiny record store “downtown” with an even tinier “rock” section. Most of the CDs in that crate I could easily attribute to my father’s collection. But, you know, youth… I wanted to find my own gems.

Kings of Leon’s debut sat in that crate for a good year before the owner lost patience and marked it down to bargain-bin price. And then, my time had come. I didn’t know who the band were, I didn’t know anything about the record, but I was intrigued by the cover art and it wasn’t already in my dad’s collection, so I bought it. And I loved it; listened to it over and over again. Occasionally, I’d take a look at the booklet, and there I found the band thanking another band who had recorded their album in the studio next door while Kings of Leon were making their debut: The Strokes.

When it finally became time to make a trip to the nearest major city, I went to a “real” record store, bought the first two Strokes records, and promptly (well, sort of) forgot about Youth & Young Manhood. Their subsequent albums didn’t do much to win me back as a fan. But in the end, I’m left with those fond memories of listening to this album over the course of one particularly hot and otherwise utterly boring summer in a small town.

Long and pointless review? I guess, you could say similar things about Youth & Young Manhood, but if you have memories attached to it, well, why not admit you kinda like it.

An album whose message resonates just as deeply today as it did 55 (!) years ago, when it was first released. What’s Going On is a defining statement - not only Marvin Gaye’s finest work, but one of the greatest albums ever to grace our ears. A healing transmission for our troubled times, created by a troubled artist. And what a towering, life-affirming, love-affirming achievement he gave us. Transcendence. Bliss!

Some exquisite songs (or, more precisely, sounds) on here - that’s for sure. It’s amazing how Depeche Mode once again made use of the intriguing rhythmic backdrop and the layering of instruments to create the very dynamics that make their best songs so instantly memorable. I mean, these pulsating synth/bass lines hardly ever miss, do they?

That being said, apart from the obvious highlight, opener ‘Never Let Me Down Again”, Music for the Masses somehow never manages to step out of the shadows of its predecessor (Black Celebration) and its towering follow-up (Violator). I’d say that Music for the Masses is at its best when it either reaches for the rougher, industrial edge that defined Black Celebration (“To Have and to Hold”) or foreshadows the brilliant melange of post-industrial new wave and pop sensibilities that would eventually make Violator a stone-cold classic (“Strangelove”).

I know it’s not a common opinion, but I see Music for the Masses as a purely transitional record, with some meandering duds (“Behind the Wheel”, “Sacred”) and some experiments with mixed results, such as the Kraftwerk-esque ballad “The Things You Said” or the operatically tinged closer “Pimpf”. Depeche Mode weren’t quite ready to embrace a more fully realised pop approach yet; they were caught somewhere between what lay behind them and what lay ahead.

I guess you had to be there, huh? I’m still not quite sure what to make of this. What alternately amuses and frustrates me, though, is the odd sequencing of this record, especially its second half: a classic power-pop-meets-early-new-wave era incarnation (Fame Is), followed by a string-backed pseudo-crooner ballad (All I Ask), which gives way to psychedelically tinged Beatles worship (Italian Plastic), before transitioning into a warped Australian take on country/Americana (She Goes On), only to culminate in a swirly, Zappa-esque rumination (I’m Still Here). It’s that wild. You wouldn’t guess it from the cover art.

You’ve got to give it to them, though: Crowded House have some genuinely clever songwriting tricks up their sleeves. It’s really the power pop moments where the music shines brightest. My main gripe would be that Crowded House never quite manage to sound like their own band. They wear their influences so openly on their sleeves that you’re sometimes left wondering whether you’re not actually listening to some lost Elvis Costello song (It’s Only Natural, Tall Trees), say. But then again, you could read that criticism also as testament to the quality of their songwriting.

I’ll be coming back to this one. There’s a lot to like.