Reviews by socksonfire

Another one from a band a band who once influenced my taste and now means nothing. Well, this is my favourite R.E.M. album, for what it’s worth.

Kurt Cobain’s life mission was to make people listen to Meat Puppets II, so once we all went and actually did it…
There is something to this murdering piece of trash, though.

An album that inspired THE best music video of the ‘80s, an album from which I’ve heard the biggest 2 hits about 20,000 times each, and which I’ve never heard a single other second of. Was there a reason the rest of this album did not exist?

Well, whatever the answer, I loved it. I didn’t love love it, I only loved it.

This came out when I was in about grade 10 or so, and at a time when I was pretty staunchly anti-hip hop. “I wanna knock you awwwwout…” reminded me of a lot of irritated grumbling at school dances.

But I’ve changed and grown, and gotten so much better as a person that I was a bit excited to listen to it. I was a bit disappointed in the early going, but I gradually warmed up as the album rolled along. In the end I’m giving it a solid three, but it may get another listen or two before I die.

Rejoice! For we are delivered (except for that poor handcuffed lady). Put a dip in your hip and a slide in your glide… Did human beings make this?

My kids are sometimes interested in YouTube videos which basically consist of a charming talking head watching various clips and declaring them “satisfying”. While I’ve committed to myself not to overly judge these videos, the basic concept seems to be that what makes something “satisfying” is that, whatever expectations one may bring, they are competently met, and often with panache.

This album was immensely satisfying.

I merrily judged this one by its cover. Cover is sweet, album sweet.

When I saw it I thought “yay, more Specials but not More Specials.” Last time was More Specials. This is just Specials.

Friday night. A couple weeks since I cracked a beer, so I cracked a couple. Made some pizza for the fam. Smoked a jay after bedtime and watched Reservoir Dogs. It was as wonderful as the first time. Hit the sack, but wanted to play some tunes in my headphones.

Opus Dei was a dream come true.

Sometimes it’s good to remember that what is happening is the point. A jangly guitar pop doopdeedoop is the point. I enjoyed reading about how one of the guys is an obsessive perfectionist, given these songs all sound pretty loose.

Medium mediumness with medium medium.

I’ve experienced some weird coincidences during this project (like that Christmas album popping up of Christmas Eve), but last night before the album of the day rolled over my 9-yr-old was walking around the house singing “We Are Family”. That’s pretty fucked up, no?

I like me some disco, but the songs always have long middle parts, I guess so people can, whatever, dance. Those middle parts are too long when you’re drinking coffee.

This music teaches you how to listen to it as it’s happening. Ear following one instrument for awhile then on to the next through a musical maze anchored by an undeniable groove (except for the song Bitches Brew itself, which is totally insane). This is one that’s grown hugely through the repeated listens over the years, so that will impact my rating. Not an every day album, but one of my favourite listens to pop up on here yet.

I definitely like the Bee Gees, and admire their journey from indie folkpop to progpop to discopop, going from small-time to superstardom to punch line. This album was mid-tier at best. The three feels mildly generous.

What a difference a day makes. I come at these “unimpeachable all-time masterpieces” that carry loads of cultural baggage with caution, especially ones like this that I know front-to-back fairly well. There’s no way to be all that objective about it, but I do issue myself the internal challenge “how much objectivity can you muster?” It’s hard to say for sure, but baggage or not, this album is so jam packed with refreshing creativity I’m not sure it matters. Even smaller tracks are never filler, they’re little gems (yes, I’m looking at you Bungalow Bill).
On the boomer legacy taint-train The Beatles are holding up exceptionally well so far.

If I combine musical shittiness with a skeezy abuser, and pour it all into the mouth of a limp dolly that was left in an old toilet for 30 years, it would still be better than this. I’m just glad it was super short.

File under: they don’t make albums like this anymore. It’s also so specific and weird that it felt kind of refreshing. Making this sounds like it was miles of fun.

This album reminds of that magical time where we, the consumers, made an unwritten pact to bands: we will pirate all your music, and in return we promise not to disparage your credibility when you sell out to Apple to sell iPod shuffles.
So, yes, these sellouts have some good kickers.

Do we like The Cure’s big breakthrough? It made a lot more sense for this list than that last Cure nonsense.

I’ve been known to grumble about reggae. Mostly something about musical repetitiveness. With that on my mind, this album ruled.