Reviews by socksonfire

I dutifully did time as a Neil Young fan, as it seems one must to be taken seriously in North America, and that included the duty to dutifully listen to some CSNY along the way. Though I did like it quite a bit, it never really led me to ever listen to the Young-less version.

It gave me a good sleep after.

Very cool music, but dammit, I wish I knew what they were saying.

As I listened I became distracted by technical/structural question: are there any other elements the band could have incorporated to make this album more tiresome?

Some proof that humans aren’t all bad.

The proximity of Bowie’s death, then Prince’s death shortly after that, I felt Blackstqr would be too sad to listen to. Then I sort of forgot about it, and now I’m listening to it. He saved best for last.

The baseline on Limelight is worth the stars on its own. But that Morse code thing? I just wish I had someone to tell.

I’m on the record about my fondness for The Police. I would say I liked Synchronicity more as an album in my twenties than I do now. The tracks are great, but as a whole it’s a bit on the frenetic side.

I was buzzing from a strong joint when I slapped this into my ear holes. My expectations could not have been lower. So I was delighted when I actually had a great time. Unrepentantly ‘90s production underneath some timeless bounce.

I've been able to maintain my sanity for half a century by only consuming Elton John is small doses. I can greatly appreciate a well crafted tune, but pile up a whole bunch of overblown bombast and my psyche crumbles.

So I've been avoiding this one for a few days (after avoiding it for that half-century I was talking about). Turns out it wasn't only the songs that were overblown. My worry about it was also overblown. This actually a bop. I was foot tappin' throughout and had a pretty good car-singalong to Candle in the Wind. Saturday Night's Alright remains one of his best tracks.

I find his weird, affected American/country music accent he sings in extremely bizarre.

Now this is important. There’s a type of a partying that is high-value. I’m not talking about having fun at auntie’s birthday party. I’m talking about a hard hard hard type of partying. Drugs in plentiful forms. An unfamiliar venue. Lots of strangers seasoned with several people you know: very few to zero close trusted confidantes or friends. I’m talking about a kind of partying that is extremely intense. One that transcends the basic concept of good or bad. Part social, part internal. Flavoured with danger and uncertainty, seasoned with new elements you've never encountered before, but all within your grasp to manage. The type of partying that imprints on your memory for life in spite of the drugs, and perhaps adjusts your trajectory going onwards. Like a concentrated dose of living packed into a single wild evening. It is pretty much impossible to plan, but when encountered I advise you ride the experience to the max.

While trying to chase this type of thing regularly is not advisable, and will almost certainly ruin your life forever, including a handful over the course of a lifetime is a special ingredient if you want to have a GREAT life.

Now I don’t know this album. It really meant nothing to me at all. I didn’t even think it was that good. Except...for some reason I can’t explain, it reminded me of hard hard hard partying. And that? That I like.

Oops. I may have accidentally written off, ignored, brushed off and otherwise forgotten about a very cool little album. Was Talking Heads '77 always this good? I don't think it was.

I’m quite emotionally mature. So it bothers me that I can never quite figure out what Aimee Mann is on about. The music and delivery are very refreshing, but I can’t tell what she’s trying tell me. Normally I’d simply conclude the singer is full of shit, knock off a couple stars and be on my way. Some something about the way her music is put together convinces me that this is not an Aimee Mann problem. This is a me problem.

Ok, well yes ummm LET’S GO, now.

Jang jang jang jang jang jang jang. That’s what this album sounds like. Jang jang jang jang jang jang jang.

I don’t hate it.

I think this was a me problem. I just don’t have enough cultural or experiential connection to Brazil to deeply resonate here, even though there was a lot to like musically. A three star I will likely revisit and may reevaluate the second time I listen to all these 1001 albums.

The reputation of this album of having one perfect side and one only medium good side is well founded. First two tracks are perfect. Second two are fine, just fine.

I just finished listening to Central Reservation and I can’t remember a single part of it.

Whenever someone tells that they aren’t religious, but they are “spiritual” I have a visceral reaction. The name of this band repels me. But knowing the band name has nothing to do with any kind of spiritual nonsense, I was able to put our differences aside long enough to greatly enjoy this album, because I am an amazing person.

How shocking that this was so middling.

I associate Pink Floyd with a certain contingent of high school friends, then a certain smaller contingent of early-twenties friends. I associate Pink Floyd with taking drugs, tripping out, and they happen to be the first big stadium show I ever went to.

But by my late twenties, certainly by my thirties, they had been thoroughly relegated to the childish things I’d put away forever.

Then 1001 Albums comes along and it’s providing some surprising Pink Floyd revelations. Not only is the music itself complex and textured, but a lot of its style flavours many other artist I’ve loved over the years. As a relatively sober 51 year old man, entering my decade of reflection, the lyrics are resonating in a way far more meaningful than they did when I was a teen. What used to seem very opaque is now downright accessible.

I’ve been giving Pink Floyd good grades all along the line, and revisiting The Wall was been sweet. I could sing along every single word, but I never really recognized how gutting and tragic it all is, and arguably more relevant now than ever before.

Never heard of this. Had to track it down on some cobbled together little YouTube setlist, so the 1-2 ads for lawn care products every couple songs affected the flow and immersion. I’m conflicted. I greatly appreciated the chance to peek into this weird little niche, and I think the execution was quite good. I respect the hell out of their passion and their creation of something highly unique. That said, I couldn’t wait for it to end and I will never listen to again. That said, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. That said, if I do forget it maybe I’ll accidentally listen to it again. That said, I’m going for a beer, I’ll debate this more later. Or, that said, maybe I won’t.