Long Playing: Listening to Rolling Stone’s Greatest Albums of All Time (#500-#496)

Whenever “Greatest” lists like the one Rolling Stone compiled comes out (in this case “The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time”), initial reactions in this day and age is to protest the placement or omission of certain records. To Gen Z, a question would be, “Why would Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On be number one?” To Gen X, it looks like the top five is a Boomer’s wet dream. To Millenials, there may be more than a hint of huffiness at the placement of late ’80s/early ’90s hip-hop and soul records on the list. In short, no one will be happy with a list like this. So, I’m not even going to bother defending the way the ranking turned out. There’s no point.

However, the point of this series is to get back into the listening to full albums from start to finish. The LP or Long Playing record still exists, but nowadays artists rarely make albums like writers create novels. We’re in an era of playlists, singles, and skipping songs. So, the “album” as a complete statement — and not a random collection of songs — is fairly rare. The album era is and has been over (or in exile) for a long time. So, I’m not really going to lament the loss of a time when albums were a big deal to an artist (and fan). Rather, I’m going to take time and really listen to these albums — many of them I haven’t heard before. And while I’m not anyone of note regarding my critical assessment of these records, I’m doing this series less as a critic, and more of a lover of music.

#500 Arcade Fire, Funeral

I like some of what Arcade Fire has done throughout the years — with The Suburbs being right up there. However, their debut leaves me a bit disconnected from what others hear as great. Sure, these songs about loss are depressing, but I found the experience less of a gut-punch and more of an emotionally detached experience — like the band was trying to shield themselves from expressing loss by hiding behind a sonic barrier.

#499 Rufus Featuring Chaka Khan, Ask Rufus

First off, no one in this band is named Rufus! That’s mostly for my brother who would often ask “Which one is Rufus?” Well, if you really want to know who Rufus is, the band took the name from an advice column called “Ask Rufus” after they changed their name from “Smoke.” Second, this is a solid collection of songs aided, of course, by the wonderfully soulful voice of Chaka Khan. I’ve never sat down and listened to an entire Rufus record (until now), but from my initial listen, it’s clear that this record is one I’ll come back to.

#498 Suicide, Suicide

I can honestly say that this is one record I won’t be coming back to. Released in 1977, Suicide by Suicide is novel in that it’s probably one of the first synth-punk records that established a sound many New Wave acts adopted or adapted to their style. And while the record has its moments, it’s the ten-minute “Frankie Teardrop” that’s either a stroke of genius or the expression of someone who’s genius is having a stroke. Rolling Stone recommends not playing this song late at night. I should add that you don’t want to play it in the middle of the day, either. Doing so could get you a welfare check from the police. And by that I mean the actual cops — not Sting’s old band.

#497 The Indestructible Beat of Soweto

Here’s where I get a little picky about what constitutes an album. To me, it’s a complete statement from an artist. Compilations, anthologies, and greatest hits records aren’t really what I’d consider an album proper, but I’ll end my quibbling to note that this was a surprise — in a good way. Released in 1985, this record certainly played a part in framing the musical direction of Paul Simon’s Graceland. However, on its own, it gives the listener a good sampling of various musical styles from South Africa. In the ’80s, the interest in so-called world music grew, so this record certainly reflects that desire to be introduced to rhythms, beats, and styles from other parts of the globe.

#496 Shakira, Donde Estan Los Ladrones?

The album before Shakira became a crossover sensation. Donde Estan Los Ladrones? has a lot of polish and flash that comes from working with Emilio Estefan. There’s no denying how successful this record was — with eight out of eleven tracks released as singles. That being said, this album is a little too polished. While the song like “Ojos Así” was so good that Shakira re-recorded the vocals in English and included it on 2001’s Laundry Service, most of the record sounds like an updated version of Pies Descalzos — an album I like very much. However, it is Shakira, so it’s difficult to get too picky about an artist who wants to hug the rich diversity of the world.

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