Reviews by shoegaze_vulpes86

Randy Newman is back doing what he does best on 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴: wrapping some pretty vicious observations in deceptively charming little songs. His lyrics are once again the main attraction, dripping with sarcasm, irony, and the kind of humor that makes you laugh before wondering whether you really should have. Newman has a remarkable talent for exposing human stupidity and hypocrisy without ever sounding like he’s delivering a lecture. He simply lets his characters do the talking, and they usually manage to make fools of themselves.

Musically, things are considerably more relaxed. The warm, piano-driven arrangements often sound almost comforting, which makes the contrast with the biting lyrics all the more entertaining. It’s a clever approach, although I sometimes find myself appreciating the songwriting more than actually enjoying the songs themselves. There’s plenty to admire here, but not quite enough to make me fall in love with the album.

Still, 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 is another fine demonstration of Newman’s wonderfully twisted sense of humor. He clearly knows how to make a point without hitting you over the head with it. Instead, he’ll casually slip it into a pleasant little tune and leave you to realize just how nasty the joke actually was. You have to admire that.

𝘐 𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 feels like The xx have finally decided to let a little sunlight into the room without getting rid of the curtains. Their trademark minimalism is still very much intact, but there’s more warmth, movement, and energy here than you might expect. The delicate vocals, atmospheric guitars, and electronic beats complement each other beautifully, creating a sound that’s both intimate and surprisingly inviting.

What I really like about this album is how effortlessly everything seems to come together. The songs never feel overcrowded, yet there’s always something interesting going on beneath the surface. The more upbeat moments give the record a welcome sense of momentum, while the quieter passages maintain that wonderfully melancholic atmosphere The xx do so well. It’s a delicate balance, and they pull it off remarkably well.

Not every track is equally memorable, and there are moments when the understated approach comes close to being a little too understated. But for the most part, I find the album genuinely captivating. It has a lovely flow, a distinct personality, and enough subtle details to reward repeated listens.

𝘐 𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 is the kind of record that sounds even better when the world around you finally shuts up for a while. Sometimes all you need is a good pair of headphones and an album that knows exactly what it wants to be.

I can certainly see why 𝘊𝘰𝘴𝘮𝘰’𝘴 𝘍𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 is so highly regarded. Creedence Clearwater Revival know how to deliver straightforward, no-nonsense rock music, and there’s plenty of charm in their laid-back, bluesy sound. The songs are well played, the grooves are solid, and the whole thing has an effortless quality that’s easy to appreciate.

And yet, for some reason, the album just doesn’t quite do it for me. I keep waiting for that spark that makes a good record turn into something I genuinely love, but it never really comes. I enjoy the music while it’s playing, but I rarely feel particularly drawn into it. It’s more a case of politely nodding along than wanting to crank up the volume.

There’s nothing here that I actively dislike, and I wouldn’t call it a disappointing listen either. It’s simply one of those albums that I respect more than I actually enjoy. Maybe I’m missing something, or maybe Creedence Clearwater Revival just aren’t quite my cup of tea. Either way, a perfectly decent record that somehow never really catches fire for me.

𝘐𝘯 𝘜𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘰 isn’t exactly an album that goes out of its way to be pleasant, and that’s part of what makes it so good. It’s loud, raw, and occasionally downright abrasive, but underneath all that noise there’s some excellent songwriting. Nirvana clearly weren’t interested in making things sound pretty or polished, and the album is all the more interesting for it. The quieter moments work just as well as the chaotic ones, giving the whole thing a nice balance without sacrificing any of its rough edges.

What makes listening to it a little bittersweet, though, is knowing that this would turn out to be Nirvana’s final studio album. It’s a real shame, especially since the band still sounded like they had plenty left to say. There’s no telling where they might have gone next, and unfortunately, we’ll never find out.

A great album that stands perfectly well on its own, even if it’s impossible not to wonder what could have come after it. What a shame this was the end of the road.

𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘦 is a decent alternative rock album that I neither particularly loved nor disliked. It’s enjoyable enough, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with the overall sound, but it never really managed to grab my attention in a meaningful way. Most of the time, I found myself thinking, “Yeah, this is alright,” which pretty much sums up my experience with the entire record.

It’s not that the music is bad or unpleasant to listen to. It just doesn’t leave much of an impression on me. There’s enough here to make it a perfectly fine listen, but not quite enough to make me want to come back to it anytime soon.

Sometimes an album is simply okay, and that’s exactly where this one lands for me. Nothing more, nothing less.

Compared to its predecessor, 𝘛𝘰𝘰-𝘙𝘺𝘦-𝘈𝘺 leans much more heavily into soul. Unfortunately, that doesn’t exactly help its chances with me, as blue-eyed soul and I still haven’t become particularly good friends. There’s certainly some charm to the album, and I can understand why people enjoy this kind of sound, even if it doesn’t always click with me. It’s not a bad record by any means, just one that doesn’t quite match my personal taste.

The obvious exception is 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗢𝗻 𝗘𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗻, which is easily the highlight of the album. It’s ridiculously catchy, full of energy, and one of those songs that are almost impossible not to enjoy. The rest of the record is perfectly enjoyable in places, but nothing else really comes close to that level of excitement. Overall, a solid album with some undeniable charm, even if it hasn’t convinced me to join the blue-eyed soul fan club just yet.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 is a decent mixture of art rock, glam, and eccentric pop, although it never quite excites me as much as its reputation suggests. Bryan Ferry brings his usual theatrical flair, while Brian Eno adds strange electronic textures, apparently determined to prevent anything from sounding too ordinary. It’s a fascinating combination of personalities, even if I find the results a little uneven.

And then there’s the cover. Roxy Music certainly knew how to make memorable album artwork, but this one leaves me rather underwhelmed. There’s so much black that I almost have to look twice to notice Amanda Lear and her panther. Perhaps hiding your cover star in plain sight is a clever artistic statement, but I still prefer some of their other sleeves.

There’s enough musical experimentation to keep me interested, but not quite enough to make this a favourite. As for the artwork, I suppose Roxy Music could have shown us a little more.

For an album called 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥, this one is remarkably overdressed. Christina Aguilera has a beautiful voice, the production is technically impressive, and there are moments when everything comes together wonderfully. 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹 is the obvious highlight, thanks in large part to Linda Perry’s songwriting. It’s a song that allows Aguilera’s voice to shine without drowning it in unnecessary decoration.

Unfortunately, most of the album seems determined to prove just how much can be squeezed into a pop record. The sound is unmistakably late-’90s/early-‘00s, with all the familiar glossy production and an extra-thick layer of R&B sauce poured over everything. It may be expertly prepared, but after nearly eighty minutes, I’ve had more than enough. Even the better songs struggle to stand out amid all that excess.

There’s a much better, shorter album hiding in here somewhere. Aguilera certainly has the voice to carry it, but she doesn’t need to demonstrate everything she can do on every single track. Sometimes less really is more.

Somebody should have taken the title a little more literally.

I knew Chicago liked their brass instruments. I just didn’t realise they were planning to move the entire horn section into my head. 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘰 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 is an ambitious mixture of jazz, rock, and blues, with impressive musicianship and arrangements that occasionally seem determined to throw everything at the listener at once.

There’s plenty to enjoy here. The interplay between the guitars, rhythm section, and horns can be genuinely exciting, and the band clearly has no shortage of ideas. Unfortunately, they also seem reluctant to leave any of them out. Over the course of this lengthy double album, the relentless brass arrangements gradually lose their impact, and what initially sounds thrilling becomes rather exhausting.

A good and occasionally fascinating jazz-rock debut, but one that could have benefited from a little restraint. The album is over, the record player has stopped, and somehow I’m still hearing trumpets.

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗜𝘀 𝗮 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 and 𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 (𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀) are two fantastic singles, combining hypnotic synthesizers, irresistible hooks, and Annie Lennox’s unmistakable voice. If the rest of the album maintained that standard, I’d have very little to complain about.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t. The remaining tracks have the same electronic ingredients, but rarely the melodies or personality to make them stand out. I don’t dislike what I’m hearing; I just find myself waiting for something as memorable as those two hits to come along again.

A perfectly decent early-80s synth-pop album, but one where the highlights are considerably more interesting than the album surrounding them. Sometimes a great singles collection might be all you need.

With a band name as ridiculous as The Dictators and a cover featuring Handsome Dick Manitoba dressed like a professional wrestler, 𝘎𝘰 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺! practically dares me to take it seriously. I didn’t, and I suspect that's exactly the point.

Musically, it’s a rowdy mixture of garage rock and hard rock, full of simple riffs, deliberately stupid humour, and the bad manners that would soon become part of punk. The band sounds like they’re having a great time, and there's something charming about how little they seem to care about musical sophistication. Unfortunately, the songs themselves don’t always make as much of an impression as the attitude.

An entertaining piece of proto-punk history, even if the music doesn’t quite live up to the glorious absurdity of its presentation. I enjoyed the racket, but I suspect I’ll remember the cover long after I’ve forgotten most of the songs.

𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 sounds as though it has spent years gathering dust somewhere in the Arizona desert. The guitars are loose, the rhythms are unhurried, and the whole album has that wonderfully weathered Americana atmosphere. I like the sound, even if I occasionally wish the music would get moving.

Unfortunately, the album overstays its welcome. What initially feels charmingly laid-back gradually becomes rather meandering, and Howe Gelb’s voice doesn’t exactly help. His half-sung, half-muttered delivery certainly has personality, but it’s an acquired taste I’m not sure I’ve fully acquired.

There’s a good album hiding somewhere in all that dust, but it could have benefited from a little trimming. 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 has its moments of enchantment. Unfortunately, by the end, the chore part starts to take over.

Finally, some MPB and Tropicália again! 𝘊𝘢𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘝𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘰 is a wonderful reminder of how adventurous Brazilian popular music had become by the late 1960s. Psychedelic rock, traditional Brazilian rhythms, orchestral arrangements, and catchy pop melodies all find their way onto the same record, sometimes within the same song.

What I particularly like is how little Veloso seems to care about keeping these styles separate. The music can turn from gentle and melodic to wonderfully eccentric without losing its charm. His warm, understated voice holds everything together, even when the arrangements seem determined to go somewhere completely unexpected.

There is plenty of experimentation here, but it rarely comes at the expense of a good song. Colourful, playful, and full of surprises. After so many familiar British and American records, this is a particularly welcome change of scenery.

No, thanks. I don’t mind abrasive music, but the grinding guitars and snarling vocals here wear me down rather than draw me in. Everything seems determined to sound threatening, and after a while I’m paying more attention to the effort than to the songs.

A few riffs catch my ear, but they’re not enough to keep me interested through the whole performance. I can hear how much work went into creating this atmosphere; I just don’t particularly enjoy spending time in it. The album wants to get under my skin. Mostly, it gets on my nerves.

This is one of the highlights of 2000s hip-hop for me. The warm soul samples draw me in, but Common gives me just as much reason to listen closely. His delivery feels conversational without becoming flat, and he can get a point across without making every verse sound like a speech. I enjoy the beats on their own, but following his words makes the music even better.

What really works is how comfortable he sounds within these arrangements. The production has plenty of personality without stealing the whole show, and the songs feel connected without becoming interchangeable. It’s also refreshing to hear an album that doesn’t stretch its good ideas past their limits. By the end, I’m thinking about which tracks to play again rather than which ones I would cut.

The band name and cover had me expecting space rock. Instead, 𝘏𝘰𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘐𝘐 gives me a laid-back mixture of electronics and rock that’s pleasant enough, but considerably less exciting than the album I’d imagined.

Even after adjusting my expectations, I’m left with a fairly modest “not bad.” There are passages I enjoy, and the sounds fit together nicely, but the songs rarely give me much to get attached to. I don’t mind being taken somewhere unexpected; I’d just like the destination to be more interesting. A decent listen, but a bit of a disappointment.

Karen O’s voice is what sells this to me. She yelps, snarls, and stretches the words, then suddenly sings something so gently that I start paying attention in a completely different way. I like that she doesn’t smooth out those odd little edges. They make her much more interesting to listen to.

The jagged guitars and restless drumming are a good match for her, giving the songs a scrappy energy without making them all feel the same. There’s a lot of fun in the louder tracks, but the quieter moments give the album more feeling than I initially expected. I came for the strange voice and noisy indie rock; the tenderness was a welcome surprise.

The Southern-rock twang gives this a little character, but underneath it I mostly hear fairly routine alternative rock. Kings of Leon sound enthusiastic enough; I just wish more of that enthusiasm rubbed off on me. Too many songs lean on the same ideas, and the rough-edged playing isn’t enough to keep them interesting.

I don’t need constant reinvention, but a few more distinctive riffs or melodies would help. After a handful of tracks, I feel like I’ve heard most of what the album has to offer. Unfortunately, the album itself hasn’t reached that conclusion yet.

I thought I’d miss the strings. After loving the arrangements on 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘧𝘵 and 𝘉𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘢𝘺𝘵𝘦𝘳, I wasn’t sure a much barer Nick Drake record would have the same appeal. It turns out I had nothing to worry about.

The guitar playing gives me as much to listen to as those fuller arrangements did. There’s so much movement beneath his gentle singing that the songs never feel empty, and I love being able to hear the two so clearly together. His voice sounds close and unforced, drawing me into lines that might otherwise pass me by. This is quiet music that I have no interest in turning into background music.

I still love the orchestral side of his earlier albums, but I don’t spend a moment here wishing the strings would come in. The songs feel complete as they are. Three albums, three different reasons to love Nick Drake.

Finally, some reggae beyond Bob Marley — and a record that makes me curious to hear more. The bass has real weight, the horns sound wonderfully mournful, and the rough lead vocals give the songs an urgency I really like. The exchanges with the backing singers are especially good: I find myself waiting for those answering voices to come back in.

I’ve found the repetition tiring on other reggae albums, but here it keeps drawing me further into the songs. A repeated phrase gains force instead of simply filling another few bars, and there’s enough feeling in the performances to keep me listening closely. Apparently, the familiar rhythm wasn’t the whole problem. On this record, I’m quite happy for it to keep going.