Reviews by socksonfire

“This could be a Soundgarden song”. I can’t wait to listen to Badmotorfinger and think “This could be a PJ Harvey song”. That’s a compliment, by the way.

With no clue what I was getting into I found a lot of genuine weirdness to love on this album. At first glance the length looked egregious, but it zipped along pretty good…up until THE BAD IDEA. I cannot co-sign on THE BAD IDEA: to end the album by reading the liner notes over a mundane beat for 12 full minutes. I’m naming THE BAD IDEA the “Starshedder”.

My oldest said it best: “I don’t get going through the effort of naming every single person on earth.” Word, son. Word.

Peak Maiden!!!! Is a 4.

“The terrible band name can not disguise that this is a stinker,” I thought about 5 songs in. That out of the way, I then started not minding it. If they’d only called the band the Kidding Muslims I may have given it 4 stars.

A Dylan album I’m almost completely unfamiliar with. Sludgy but still pretty great.

You know how some albums you just desperately want to love? It seems immoral and wrong not to love them? This is one of those. It has some unbelievable highs, and on paper it seems like everything should be perfect, but it’s never fully landed with two feet for me, in spite of many tries. I still love how Lou appreciates the value of life on the fringes, and those unbelievable highs I was talking about are enough to drag Transformer up to a 4 from a 3, but barely.

I was borderline obsessed with this album in 1990-92. Listened countless times, infested mixtapes, played at parties; pretty much every single song was used and abused by me someplace or another. Front runner mixtape frequency was Bottle of Smoke, coming in at twenty fucking five to one. Revisiting it today was a gift. Truly. Thank you, 1001 Albums. Thank you.

The mean-spirited jokes against the poor, suffering U2 haters are starting to wear thin. Perhaps that this is a vaguely annoying album even to me is one of the reasons why. I’m also surprisingly familiar with it, and So Cruel is one of my favourite tracks by them. Anything else to say about this one? Not really.

As an engineer might say, I certify that this album substantially complies in all material respects with the original design intent and is fit for use.

In other words, when you aren’t high in a nightclub, this album has some fun moments, but is generally mediocre to listen to.

Right on, this is one far-out groovy space jam.

Some albums get better and better every time you listen to them.

This album doesn’t kick in for until Red Light Special, but it gets pretty great for awhile there. Even outside of the Prince cover, his influence is all over this thing.

The entire Amy Winehouse tidal wave completely passed me by, with the exception of a brief obsession 20 years ago with her incredible Cupid cover, which I had forgotten about til now. While the radio hits were unavoidable, my brain barely processed them, and as such, this album was pretty much completely unfamiliar territory to me.
So now that I’ve dabbled I can finally conclude: I MISSED OUT. I was fully in on the smooth vibe of these songs, the band is clear and on point, and Amy’s vocals are engaging. I will dive deeper for sure, based on this. I guess the cost is now I’m sad she’s dead too, so it wasn’t a complete win.

In the spirit of full transparency, I went into this one with a full weight of expectation defined by my project partner’s derisive 1-star review filling me with dread.

I was deeply relieved to find an album that was only bland, boring, derivative and whose inclusion in this list was only utterly bewildering.

I did like the line in Captain’s Table “flying ‘neath the wings of a giant dong”. At least that’s what I heard.

A formative moment from my early 20s. I’d recently left my short stint in theatre school, leaving many beloved classmates behind. Heading to my first post-drop-out party with those people I felt vaguely nervous. I pictured all sorts of interactions where I would be attempting to explain my reasons for leaving school and attempting to sugar-coat my ill-formed next steps. I soothed my nerves with some pre-drinks and a smokeysmoke. As I walked over I played, on my tape Walkman, a tape with the cautionary name ‘80’s Dance Party. It was full of atrocious songs like Two of Hearts, Obsession, and You Spin Me ‘Round (Like a Record), and, in spite of the atrociousness, really put my right in the pocket of a good mood for the party. I got there, mixed a highball and started hobnobbing. It was going surprisingly well. I decided to hit the porch for a jay. As I toked a huge tall greaseball of a man, a boyfriend of one of more hardcore theatre folk, covered in tattoos and burdened with a reputation for hard-core rough living came and sat beside me. With no preamble he eyed the headphones slung around my neck, leaned in toward me and whispered “what are you listening to?” I stammered and stuttered, “guh, er….um it’s um…’80s Dance Party”. By the end of my answer I was borderline inaudible. With a scowl he hissed, “can I listen?” Hands trembling, I turned over my headphones, withering in embarrassment. He put them on and pressed play. He took a long drag on his cigarette, gazing into the distance. He then clicked the STOP button and returned the Walkman. As he exhaled his smoke he gave a withering and disdainful, “duuuude,“ got up and stalked away without looking back.

This entire album is like listening to that experience in the form of an album. The worst part? I don’t hate it and sometimes I even bob my head. It’s humiliating.

Early adopters of a type of music I didn’t like in the mid ‘90s, with undeniable highlights. It sure is windy outside my house.

I like Snoop’s laid way back vibe, I think it may be a one of one. Unfortunately I was rushing a family member to an emergency room (everybody is fine now) and then managing the rest of the family around a bonkers day, and my vibe did not click with this album. So many fine tracks though.

I may get this wrong, because my memory is foggy, but one fine zoomscotch I recall mentioning loving this album and my project partner responding with a story about one of his other friend’s perspective that Jurassic 5 is hip hop for white people.
Beyond me whispering almost to myself “but…I’M white…” we didn’t really reckon with the racial profiling or discuss the implications. It therefore remains unclear whether the observation that Jurassic 5 is for white people is a diss on me, a diss on J5, or perhaps even intended as a compliment to J5’s crossover power. It also remains unclear whether he meant other races like J5 and so do white people, or that white people and only white people like J5. Regardless the intention, the viewpoint aligns with the popular right-wing conservative axiom “just because it’s racist doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

My preferred interpretation is that by loving this album I am battling racism.

I disliked this one as I was listening. Mostly Nico’s disconnected voice in too large a dosage.
Then once it ended I thought “I’m going to listen to that again. It was good.”
Brains are stupid.

Those attentive to my reviews may think I love this album. And I do dig it in a cozy way. It’s just too soft for the genre.