Reviews by shoegaze_vulpes86

𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵 still carries traces of grunge, but by 1996 Screaming Trees had clearly moved beyond the sound most people associate with the genre. The album is more psychedelic, melodic, and rootsy, with Mark Lanegan’s rough voice giving it a darker, more weathered character.

That makes the record interesting, but not necessarily memorable. I like the direction the band takes, yet the songs rarely stay with me once the album is over.

A good late-grunge record, but one that feels more like an evolution of the genre than a classic example of it.

𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 is pretty much the perfect Britpop album for me. Sharp, funny, catchy, unmistakably British, and full of songs that turn everyday life into something far more dramatic than it has any right to be.

If anyone needs convincing just how good Pulp were, 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗣𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 should be enough. It has everything: a brilliant melody, biting social commentary, Jarvis Cocker’s wonderfully theatrical delivery, and an arrangement that keeps building until the whole thing feels enormous.

Thankfully, the rest of 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 proves that 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗣𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 was no accident. Britpop rarely got better than this.

Ambient music existed before 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘈𝘪𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴 — including in Brian Eno’s own earlier work — but few albums defined the idea quite so clearly. For a self-described non-musician, Eno was remarkably good at figuring out how little music actually needed to do.

Piano notes drift in and out, voices appear like distant announcements, and almost nothing seems to happen in a conventional sense. It is music designed to exist around you rather than constantly demand your attention — the kind of thing that could make you pleasantly sleepy while waiting at an airport before your flight has even been delayed.

And somehow it works. Quiet, spacious, slightly hypnotic, and much more interesting than music this uneventful has any right to be.

I saw The Charlatans described somewhere as an obscure British band, which seems a little odd. Maybe they were obscure in America, but in the UK they had three number-one albums during the 1990s. That is not exactly a minor footnote.

𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯’ 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 is enjoyable enough: catchy, confident, and still carrying traces of the band’s Madchester and psychedelic roots. But while I like the sound, the songs rarely hit me as hard as the best Britpop albums from the same period.

So yes, definitely successful, definitely very British, and definitely not obscure. For me, though, it is a good Britpop-era album rather than one of the essential ones.

𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 has plenty of warmth, groove, and character, but the steady offbeat reggae rhythm starts to wear me down over the course of the album. After a while, several of the songs begin to feel more similar than I would like.

𝗡𝗼 𝗪𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻, 𝗡𝗼 𝗖𝗿𝘆 is the track that stands out most clearly for me, while the rest remains solid without ever fully pulling me in.

Maybe that says as much about my relationship with reggae as it does about the album itself.

Another singing cowboy, another early-60s country album built from very familiar ingredients. 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 is well played and easy enough to listen to, but by now I have heard this particular combination of twang, shuffle, and heartbreak quite a few times.

The most interesting detail is Willie Nelson turning up on bass, which gives the record a nice bit of historical trivia even if it hardly transforms the sound. Ray Price sings with confidence, and the band does exactly what it needs to do.

Perfectly solid, but also the kind of country album that gradually blends into all the others from the same era.

𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘳. 𝘚𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘴 sits right on the border between psychedelic rock and early prog, which makes it interesting from the start. The arrangements are colourful, the ideas are ambitious, and the album clearly wants to be more than just another psychedelic rock record of its era.

Still, that curiosity does not quite last for the full runtime. After a while, the songs begin to blur together, and the album feels more repetitive than its variety of sounds would suggest.

There is plenty here to admire, but not quite enough to keep me fully engaged from beginning to end.

I still do not quite understand why Rod Stewart needs this much space in an essential-albums list. 𝘎𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺 has a loose, rootsy sound, and his raspy voice certainly gives the record character, but the songs themselves rarely hold my attention.

The mixture of folk, rock, and blues is perfectly competent, yet most of the album simply passes me by. There is nothing particularly bad about it, which may actually be part of the problem: very little stands out enough to make me care.

Rod Stewart clearly has personality; this album just does very little for me.

“The Genius” takes a set of country standards and completely filters them through his own style: big-band arrangements, sweeping strings, gospel feeling, and that unmistakable Ray Charles voice. On paper, the combination sounds unusual; in practice, it feels remarkably natural.

That is both the album’s strength and its limitation for me. Ray Charles is so distinctive that the country material quickly becomes secondary, and after a while I mostly hear a very polished Ray Charles record rather than a radical meeting of two musical worlds.

It is well made and easy to respect, but ultimately it sounds exactly like what I would expect from “The Genius.”

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝟮 𝗨 was such a huge hit that it has almost become shorthand for Sinéad O’Connor’s entire career. For many people, it is probably the only song of hers they could name, which is a shame because the album around it is genuinely strong.

O’Connor had a remarkable voice: fragile, intense, and capable of turning very simple arrangements into something emotionally powerful. The record is restrained rather than showy, and even if it never quite reaches the heights of its famous single again, it remains consistently compelling.

I sometimes wonder how differently her career might have unfolded if the controversies surrounding her had not so often overshadowed the music. Whatever one thinks of those public battles, her talent was never in doubt.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿Waw, cerddoriaeth wych o Gymru!🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿 I had to look up where Super Furry Animals were from, and Cardiff somehow feels exactly right. 𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘈𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 is the kind of late-90s/early-2000s British indie pop that really works for me: melodic, playful, ambitious, and just strange enough.

The album keeps throwing new ideas into the mix without ever sounding unfocused. There are big hooks, psychedelic touches, electronic details, and plenty of unexpected turns, yet it all still feels unmistakably like the same band.

Inventive without becoming exhausting and catchy without playing it safe. This is how adventurous UK indie pop should sound.

Tennessean, actress, Grand Ole Opry member, Country Music Hall of Fame member, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member, humanitarian, theme park owner, LGBTQ+ icon, country music icon, and hair model for some slightly questionable but undeniably iconic hairstyles: Dolly Parton was quite a lot of things.

By the time 𝘊𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴 arrived, she had already released several solo records and a string of albums with Porter Wagoner, but this feels like the point where Dolly truly stepped into the spotlight on her own terms. The title track shows exactly why she became such a remarkable songwriter: simple language, vivid storytelling, warmth, humour, and emotion without ever feeling overdone.

And she was still only getting started. 𝘑𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘦 would become an even bigger landmark a few years later, but 𝘊𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴 already sounds like the arrival of the Dolly Parton the world would come to know.

Dolly, we will always love you.

𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 sounds oddly stranded between decades. The bright synths, programmed beats, and glossy production still feel rooted in the 1980s, but by 1993 that style had started to sound less futuristic and more like a holdover from an earlier pop era.

The Pet Shop Boys are still skilled enough to make the songs catchy, but the sound itself wears me down quickly. Against the rapidly changing musical landscape of 1993, 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 feels surprisingly safe and dated rather than forward-looking.

There is plenty of craft here, but very little that makes me want to hear it again.

I liked this so much that I immediately put on 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘵 afterwards. That probably says enough. The B-52’s take new wave, garage rock, surf influences, and pure eccentricity and turn them into something completely their own.

The biggest part of the appeal is the vocal interplay. Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson have voices that can sound almost intentionally irritating, yet that very quality becomes part of the charm. Fred Schneider’s dry delivery, the sharp guitars, and the strange but infectious rhythms complete a sound that could only belong to The B-52’s.

Weird, funny, catchy, and full of personality. This is new-wave pop at its most distinctive.

Another folk-rock album, but 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 is not quite the record I expected from a band so closely associated with Haight-Ashbury and the San Francisco psychedelic scene. Instead of sounding trippy or chaotic, it is remarkably earthy: acoustic guitars, country influences, warm harmonies, and an almost pastoral atmosphere.

That contrast is probably the most interesting thing about the album for me. The songwriting is consistently solid and the relaxed mood is pleasant, but it rarely becomes especially exciting. I enjoy the atmosphere more than I remember the individual songs.

A well-crafted record, just much closer to pastoral Americana than the psychedelic San Francisco I had expected.

𝘎𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘛𝘰𝘸𝘯 still carries that familiar honky-tonk pulse, but here it feels far less mechanical than on many of the older country records I have heard. The production is lean, the guitars have more bite, and the songs move with a roots-rock energy that keeps the album from settling into a predictable groove.

Steve Earle brings enough grit and personality to make the traditional country elements feel fresh rather than old-fashioned. Nothing here is especially flashy, but the album is consistently strong and easy to enjoy.

One of the more enjoyable country albums I have heard, and one I would gladly return to.

Marvin Gaye sounds as good as ever, the band is excellent, and musically there is very little to complain about. What holds the album back for me is the subject matter: turning an entire divorce into a cycle of songs addressed to an ex-wife is certainly personal, but also occasionally uncomfortable.

There is plenty of quality here, yet compared with the other Marvin Gaye albums in the list, 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘔𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 feels the least essential. A good record, but not the one I would point to first.

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘔𝘰𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴 has plenty going for it: sharp songwriting, brisk tempos, and a distinctly British sense of attitude. Still, I keep coming back to the same problem — the album sounds strangely thin to me.

The guitars have plenty of bite, but the overall production lacks the fullness and weight I expect from this kind of rock. Maybe that is partly because The Jam were already moving away from straightforward punk towards a more controlled, melodic new wave and mod sound. The energy is still there, but it feels increasingly restrained.

I can appreciate the craft and personality of the record, but that transition from punk rawness to something cleaner and more polished never quite works for me.

Having already heard the follow-up, I would put 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘴 on roughly the same level. If I had to choose just one of the two, though, I would probably keep this one.

What wins me over is the sheer sense of fun in the playing. The rhythms are lively, the band sounds completely locked in, and there is an infectious energy running through the whole record. Even when the songs themselves do not always stick with me, the performance never feels flat.

I may not love the album, but I really like the way it moves.

𝘗𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘕𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 feels surprisingly overlooked for an album this good. Jurassic 5 take a more collective approach to hip-hop, putting chemistry and interplay ahead of individual star power.

What appeals to me most is how naturally the MCs trade verses and complement one another. The production is warm and sample-driven, and the whole record feels lively without ever becoming showy. There is a real sense of people enjoying the act of rapping together.

That approach works very well for me. 𝘗𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘕𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 may not be one of the first albums people mention when talking about early-2000s hip-hop, but it probably deserves more attention than it gets.