I think shuffle mode on CD players led to the downfall of albums. Once shuffle mode became an option, the song order of a record no longer became fixed for the listener. Then, when the iPod (or mp3 players) came into the market, claims were made that someone could store 10,000 songs on the device. So, as whole albums were transferred to mp3 players, shuffle mode would ping-pong the listeners through a collection of songs from a wide array of artists and genres. It had the effect of fracturing what was once a dedicated listening experience into a collection of songs that often had no relation to one another. Something similar can be said of listening to these 500 greatest albums. Sure, I’m streaming these records in their entirety, but I’m also listening to a collection of albums that often have no relationship to one another — which also fractures the listening experience. This is what happened to me when I heard these five records one after the other — but not so much that I couldn’t see/hear some of what makes these albums great.
Rolling Stone has been completely besotted with Richard and Linda Thompson for a mighty long time. When I was in high school, I couldn’t afford a subscription to the magazine, so I used to read it in the library. This duo would show up with unusual regularity. I had no idea who they were, nor did I really care. So, it’s should come as no surprise that this is the first time I’ve heard their 1974 release — that was a commercial and critical flop when it came out. Basically, it was ignored by critics and the public. But it’s now considered one of the best folk records of its time. What do I think? Well, their music isn’t appealing to me, but I can appreciate the duo’s ability to craft good songs. So can other artists. If you look at the Wiki on the record, you’ll see a Who’s Who of singer-songwriters who have covered songs from this album. Still, I’m just not feeling it. Perhaps I need to give the record more time. And maybe I will once I complete this journey. In the meantime, I’ll say that I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight is an acquired taste.
You gotta hand it to Gaga. She knows how to make a big splash and piss people off. Born This Way from 2011 may seem like well-crafted pop (and it is), but lyrically she really pushes the buttons of convention by letting her freak flag fly. It can come off as a little too contrived and rehearsed at times, but she picks up where Madonna left off — and with a far superior voice. Sure, the title track sounds like a certain female 80s material girl whose audience also views her as a gay icon, but lyrically it’s far more of an authentic anthem of difference than anything that Madonna wrote. While I really liked this record when it came out, I find that it could have been a much better album had the running time been cut by 10 minutes. Gaga’s singing is certainly a force of nature, but always going for the Big Voice in song after song can get tedious. But it’s Gaga. She was born this way. So there’s that.
McKinley Morganfield (aka Muddy Waters) died the day after my 18th birthday. I knew Muddy Waters’ greatness as a blues player more from osmosis than being a listener of his music. His name was mentioned so often by rock musicians that I had heard of him before hearing a single note he ever played. Well, considering my aversion to anthologies when it comes to this list, I’ll say that The Anthology: 1947–1972 (released in 2001) one is of the better ones. You get a good sampling of Muddy’s music — including his versions of “I’m Your Hoochie Cooche Man” and “Baby, Please Don’t Go” — and is a really great soundtrack for a lazy Saturday afternoon. If you don’t have any of the records Muddy Waters released between 1960 and 1981, add this one and you’ll probably start collecting his back catalog in short order.
Hip-hop/rap was never my thing, but there’s no denying what The Pharcyde created in this 1992 debut is pretty great. There’s a deft use of sonic layering and sampling that certainly makes Bizarre Ride II a product of its time. By that I mean, it has all the hallmarks of hip-hop of the early ’90s. The cadence of the rhymes, the beats sampled, and the subject of the raps makes for a lot of new jack swing goodness. So, do I like it? Like Richard and Linda Thompson’s music, hip-hop doesn’t appeal to me all that much. Yes, I appreciate all that went into creating Bizarre Ride II, but as far as listening to this record more in the future, I can’t promise it’s on my list.
Greatness is a subjective thing. I think we can all agree on that. So, given that premise, I can say that I don’t understand what’s so great about If You’re Feeling Sinister from 1996. Maybe one has to be in a certain mood (one I’m clearly not in) to fully appreciate Belle and Sebastian. I tried to like their songs, but there’s something about Stuart Murdoch’s voice and vocal delivery that’s a turn off for me. I’m guessing it’s the whiny quality to his phrasing. But even the songs that are upbeat in tempo (“Like Dylan in the Movies”) tend to suffer from Murdoch’s presence. Yes, it’s clear I’m no fan of Belle and Sebastian, so I won’t belabor the point by going on about why.
