Reviews by krill_42

Haha, I’m having a great time reading all these dismissive reviews. Okay, it’s not Madonna-like pop perfection, but then again, it’s not thaaaaat experimental either (enough to make your head get lost in this wondrous sonic architecture). On Rock Bottom, you’ll find a bunch of jazz-infused, playful tunes that won’t do you any harm - quite the contrary. If you loosen up a bit, this album might even play the funniest tricks on your mind - just like being lost in a bank of fog… in a positive sense. If that makes sense? Probably not… spent enough time with Rock Bottom already to not see clearly anymore.

Much love for Mr. Wyatt from my side. Loved it, love it, will always love it. It’s a beautiful little marvel.

Franz Ferdinand brought the fun into what was left of the corpses of post-punk and revamped the genre - big time. And man, this is a fucking great record to dance to. One of the great and lasting debuts of the 2000s. It still hits as hard as it did back then. The lyrics have a smart sense of humor, and honestly, who doesn’t love Alex Kapranos’ voice? Not a perfect 5 for me, because Cheating on You, Come on Home and 40 feel a tad undercooked. But that’s really nitpicking.

🪨 cold classic.

💩, obv.

Ahhhh, Jagged Little Pill. A good instance to talk about the state of music journalism in the mid-90s. The stars aligned, and Alanis Morissette created something massively commercially successful—and, as it turned out, highly influential.

Sure, the soil had been prepared by others, but AM did a great job harvesting it. The result is a fun, sometimes overly theatrical, but surprisingly enduring sound—one that has even seen a steady resurgence in recent years.

But back to journalism: why did Jagged Little Pill receive so many bad reviews, especially from indie leaning outlets? Like many listeners, journalists were somewhat oversaturated with alt-rock. Add a dose of misogyny and that insufferable “authenticity” tag. I mean, Alanis Morissette played with a lot of influences, but the earth had already been shattered by her predecessors. Alanis Morissette embellished her songs with an undeniable pop sensibility and made restrained use of riot grrrl, grunge, trip-hop, etc.

The result sounds either kaleidoscopic (if you’re a fan) or a tad overstuffed (if you like but don’t love JLP). The criticism, as far as I recall, was that where Liz Phair’s lyrics were overly explicit, AM’s were seen as more commonplace and somewhat ambiguous. Hole’s sound was drug-addled and raw—AM sounded polished, and the hardest thing she seemed to be doing was smoking a cigarette. Bikini Kill were downright political—AM felt like life lived somewhere in between the stairs.

Still, is that a bad thing? For some “authentic” indie journalists, yes, it was. But looking at it now, I understand that position even less. Jagged Little Pill is a neat little mainstream pearl, where an artist managed to blend all the musical currents of its time into a cohesive whole. To some degree, yes, it functioned as a kind of projection surface, and I, too, occasionally miss a bit of punch.

But hey—great album, still. Good to see that journalistic opinion seems to have shifted in AM’s favour over the years. Deservedly so.

I studied the lyrics to this one profoundly… and I think I might be onto something… I think them Boys liked girls!!??

Ok, that had to be said. Now back to business: It’s a fun record - which is no small feat, after all these years. Granted, some bars don’t hit as hard as they did back in the ’80s. Knowing that the Beastie Boys were destined for much greater things, this is probably one of their “classic” records that I take off the shelf the least. Is it essential listening? No… eh, yes? Whatever… it kind of defies that category for me.

It was formative for their own trajectory as one of the most idiosyncratic white hip-hop groups to have ever graced the ears of mankind, at least. Spinning this today, some stuff seems a tad stale or cliché - but back then, it probably made people stop in their tracks. It’s the blueprint for a much better artistic catalog, so that should suffice for its inclusion. Also, I’d bet a lot of money that the Licensed to Ill bangers - deservedly - still make their way onto myriads of party playlists. My baby daughter was just vibin’ hard to “Brass Monkey”… so yeah, there’s that.

What does it say about an artist’s legacy if a work like The Sensual World isn’t even their best? Do we take Kate Bush‘s genius for granted?

But let’s start from the beginning — aka the burden of following up a masterpiece. Kate Bush had to bear it twice. The first time came after her earth-shattering debut, when she redefined what avant-garde pop songwriting could achieve: masterful pop sensibility paired with a radical commitment to uniqueness. A formula that she would later refine with her towering work, Hounds of Love - rightly considered an album for eternity, with its two distinct halves evenly split between a loose collection of songs and a cycle of thematically linked sound artifacts.

So that was the second time she had to live up to a blistering predecessor. The first time, it did not quite work out: not only in my view was Lionheart a somewhat lukewarm follow-up to The Kick Inside. But how does The Sensual World hold up to Hounds of Love? Did it work out the second time?

Well, The Sensual World is a worthy successor to her (arguably) career highlight. In some respects, it might even mark a first for Kate Bush. For once, it feels like she truly continued along the path laid out by her previous work, instead of radically changing pace and direction. She taps into similar sonics and doubles down on the pop factor that was already embedded in the fabric of Hounds of Love.

And precisely because of that, The Sensual World is a good record - a great one, even. Not her best, but that doesn’t say much when you have The Kick Inside and Hounds of Love under your belt. The final moments of Love and Anger are also telling: did you notice her laughter? Kate Bush seems free - almost unburdened. This airy sense of weightlessness that flows through the album (much like it already did in Oh to Be in Love et al) is what truly propels The Sensual World to higher spheres.

Also, with Aerial, she managed to achieve this by no means small feat once more - coming close to the brilliance of both The Kick Inside and Hounds of Love.

Wow. What an artist. What a genius. Let’s not take her or her work for granted.

Whoa! What. A. Powerful. Live. Recording.

I love Who's Next just as much, but it’s always a joy to hear this more unhinged, raw, and less polished version of that smart inferno that is My Generation.

Aside from a few duds (especially the first section of the Bo Diddly Cover “I Am a Man,” with its rather annoying vocals and a tad too uninspired shuffle intro - before it turns into this amazing, noisy, piano-led guitar freakout in the mid-section / also not a big fan of “I Don’t Mind”), this is an essential collection of songs that would become a blueprint for much of the college and indie rock of the ’80s and ’90s. Its influence still lingers, much like that of The Kinks, who in turn seemed to have been a massive influence on the band at the time of writing.

Much like The Beatles’ mid-’60s output, this record has an immediate impact upon listening, even though it’s a far more visceral affair. Some of the hooks here are incredible - easily matching The Beatles in quality. I mean, honestly: how many bands would leave off a brilliant cut like “I Can’t Explain"?

Wildly inventive, creative production choices galore, hugely influential, brilliant musicianship, packed with hooky licks, horny af. And even the cover is iconic. Anything below a five would be a crude underrating. If you were to boil this list down to a selection of 10 albums you must hear before you die, this would have to be on it. Period. If you don’t like Purple Rain, you might want to consult a doctor - just to be on the safe side.

You love the sound of the Hammond B3? Good, that helps… I have to admit, however, that in my case the sound starts to wear off only after a couple of songs. I think this album is at its best when the guitar and the organ complement each other, creating a hypnotic shuffle – as in the second track (Rinky Dink - what a title). Just my two cents…

I’m not that fond of the idea of “substituting” vocal harmonies with the organ, as in the title track (which seems to be the one most people love) or in the Twist and Shout cover. But overall, these are still solid performances with some occasional highlights in my book. I especially love it when the organ shifts to the backbeat and lets the drummer and the guitarist go wild.

So many great songs on here – in fact, nothing but great songs. If I had to nitpick, I’d say the record loses a bit of momentum in the second half with the mainly groove-oriented Kinky Reggae. That said, this is more than made up for by the dubby, absolutely hypnotic No More Trouble (my favorite track on the album).

Welcome to the working week: what an opener. Every time I put this album on, I’m immediately drawn into its strange mélange of dodgy characters and sticky hooks. Aside from some rather mediocre songs in the second half (the overly Elvis-leaning “Mystery Dance,” the honky-tonk-driven “Pay It Back,” and the rather uninspired guitar-solo rock pastiche “I’m Not Angry”), this still stands as one of the best debut albums of all time.

Even the songs that aren’t perfect already showcase that undeniable chorus/post-chorus magic that Elvis Costello mastered like no other. It sounds simple, but it seems damn hard to replicate — even after all these years.

4.5… so close to a 5.

🐐 alarm!

While this is indeed one of the best albums of all time, its inclusion kind of runs contrary to the very nature of this project. An album a day… Who on earth would be able to process all the genius that is baked into the fabric of this wonderful, truly magnificent recording within just one day? It took me years, at least... But when I saw this cover today, I didn’t even have to spin the record — it just began playing in my head, note for note. There aren’t many records that I’ve internalized as much as I have Ys.

Joanna Newsom’s voice and her songwriting are astonishingly unique; the arrangements practically pop out of the dictionary when you look up “idiosyncratic.” It’s such an abundance of genius that I completely understand if it feels overwhelming on first listen.

It also says a lot that even Van Dyke Parks found it challenging to conduct the strings, given Joanna Newsom’s frequent rhythmic shifts throughout her songs. Seriously - how many musicians are actually able to hold together all those constantly shape-shifting parts that make up these compositions? There can’t be many.

GOAT.

Phew… this one’s tough to rate. A band that once meant so much to me.

First off, I much prefer the raw(er), immediate impact of their debut. OK, I’m biased because Up The Brackets basically rewired my teenage brain. Everything I heard back then had to measure up to it. Including the band’s own follow-up, self-titled one - And yeah; first listen? Massive letdown… Boy, was I disappointed. And in euqal mesureas was I pissed that they did not include “Don’t Look Back into the Sun” (not even as part of some stupid bonus track edition).

Over the years, my initial skepticism faded: Partly because I don’t love the Libertines as much as I did back then anymore, partly because I realized that the highs (pardon the wordplay) are pretty amazing. I mean… “Can’t Stand Me Now” (the best “Don’t Look Back into the Sun” substitute there is), “Music When the Lights Go Out,” “What Became of the Likely Lads”: all messy, brilliant songs.

But the lows are also pretty low. The mid-section of the record should have been trimmed; it’s frankly rather boring. Tracks like “Narcissist,” “The Ha Ha Wall,” “Campaign of Hate,” and “Arbeit Macht Frei” or the meandering "Road to Ruin" don’t add much, if anything at all. Then there are a lot of kinda OK songs and some that hinted at what was to come from Barât’s Dirty Pretty Things (“Tomblands”) and Doherty’s Babyshambles (“What Katie Did”).

What I still appreciate after all these years is that it takes a lot of craft and talent to sound so nonchalant and charmingly dilettante. Good for Pete and Carl that they had such a tight rhythm section - credit where credit’s due to John Hassall and Gary Powell - that was able to compensate for their chaotic intertwining guitars.

I think of the Foo Fighters as the anti–New Order. A groundbreaking, highly influential band shatters under tragic, seismic circumstances, and one or more members continue to tap into that musical vein with a follow-up career that heavily builds on the previous band’s legacy. In the case of New Order, it worked - quite impressively, I might add.

The musical history of grunge, college rock, alternative, and surf rock has seen many brilliant songwriters - too bad Dave Grohl is not one of them. But what he lacks in wit, charm, and knotty songwriting abilities, he makes up for by cranking up the production value and creating simple chord progressions with a shout-along-to-ability. The formula for his songs seems to be: can we make it any simpler? And please make it one hook - just one - but one that really sticks, whether you want it to or not.

While it oftentimes (and rather outrageously) sounds like a bland Nirvana derivative, the Foo Fighters debut is one you can have fun with (did I just say that?). Well, at least occasionally, because there are a LOT of duds on here. The triplet made up of “Good Grief,” “Floaty,” and “Weenie Beenie,” which forms the album’s midsection, is really something you’ll probably want to forget immediately.

But I have to acknowledge: when it works, it works (cf. the opener “This Is a Call,” “Big Me,” “I’ll Stick Around”). Grohl has a strange ability to throw so many styles into the melting pot that his soothing (and charmingly generic) voice can still hold them together. Or to come back to my initial framing: To the amount that New Order radically reimagined their sound and helped to define an entire new aesthetic, the Foo Fighters aggregated and doubled down on rock affiliated traditionalism. Whether that feels like artistic conservatism or emotional resilience is probably where listeners split. I made my choice, haha. And if I made a playlist with The Replacements, Nirvana, and R.E.M. on shuffle, everything I’d want from a Foo Fighters record would be there, ready to digest.

Allow me one question though: why on earth didn’t the editors choose The Colour and the Shape, which is, frankly, also not a terribly innovative but at least a cohesive record - and a far more accomplished version of this grunge-pop behemoth that is the Foo Fighters?

The bars hit so damn hard, and the production is just groundbreaking. This is nothing short of iconic - and everybody knows it.

Yeah, the cover says it all. A dude with hyper-expressive, rock-style vocals yells at you for an hour straight. To make it worse, the band lets the guitars chug and solo in equal measure, and the drummer plays - like what? - 25 cymbals and 10 toms or so. Can we please have some goddamn subtlety for a change? No? Okay then. Thanks, I’ll pass.

It lies in the very nature of punk, garage, and rock ’n’ roll that every generation produces (and requires) its own heroes. Punk-adjacent guitar music - if we think of it more as an attitude toward making music than a strict genre - is immediate. Its relevance is like a meteorite: moving fast and fiercely, only to burn out in an instant, not seldom accompanied by the early demise of its protagonists.

So it makes perfect sense to me that, for a long time, I only listened to the derivatives of the derivatives of the primal punk scream of the New York Dolls without really cherishing the “originals.” For a punk band; or their records; to become part of your DNA, you usually have to be there when it happens.

That’s why I tend to see the self-titled debut of the New York Dolls as some kind of artefact… more of a holy grail than a record to spin when I’m angry, or when I want to remind myself of my careless, angsty youth. But that’s not to say the album isn’t impeccable. Because, well, it is.

What’s remarkable is how its influence still lingers, continuously reincarnating itself in new circles again and again. If you like punk-based music, then - even if you’ve never consciously listened to the New York Dolls - you’ve heard them. Or rather: you’ve heard their ghosts in the strings of your favourite New York punk band.

It won’t take long to figure out why that’s the case. Simply put, it’s because “The New York Dolls” f@*#ing rips! It’s at its best when the band fully succumbs to rawness and lets its unfiltered emotions soar.

It’s simple math:

C(x) = commercial success
Q(x) = quality

Q(In Utero) - Q(Nevermind) = C(Nevermind) - C(In Utero)

To the degree that Nevermind is the more commercially successful record of Nirvana, In Utero is the (even) better one.