State Of The Pretzel Logic: October

Happy Halloween everyone! October is almost over and November is just around the corner. This has been a very exciting month music-wise, with four new albums getting added to my 2009 Favorites. Also, I finally finished my albums-by-decade countdown, which has been my baby for the last seven months. Pretzel Logic has been a wonderful writing outlet for me and, hopefully, there are people out there who’ve enjoyed reading all these lists, reviews and assorted other thoughts.

Currently, there are no reviews I feel the need to update.

As we enter the last two months of the year, album releases tend to slow down and drop off. Music critics everywhere are ramping up for the inevitable Best Of The Year countdowns and any CDs released in December are pretty much assured not to get any real press. Anyway, there are plenty of albums that have slipped through the cracks over the course of the year and I’m going to spend November and part of December catching up on things that I’ve missed. Currently on the review schedule: Atlas Sound, Beak>, The Cribs, Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse, Devendra Banhart, Echo & The Bunnymen, Girls, Gossip, Morrissey, Neon Indian, Them Crooked Vultures and Volcano Choir. If you’ve got any other suggestions for great albums that I never reviewed this year, comment away!

Solo Stroke

Artist: Julian Casablancas

Album: Phrazes For The Young

Year: 2009

Grade: 3.5 pretzels

Despite being heralded as the future of rock & roll at the beginning of the decade, the Strokes have pretty much vanished from view over the years. One great album and two middle-of-the-road ones are really all this supposedly legendary band has offered the world during their time on Earth. Add in the fact that their recording plans for an upcoming fourth album keep getting pushed back and it seems like there could be no better time for the band’s members to embark on solo projects. That’s exactly what’s been happening this year and lead singer Julian Casablancas is the latest Stroke to test the waters with his solo debut.

Phrazes For The Young has shades of the Strokes’ music throughout it, but it definitely has its own unique flavor. Casablancas lets his love for 80s synth pop really shine through, creating bubbling little pop gems, full of crisp drum beats and twisty keyboard lines. The crown jewel in this set is the lead single “11th Dimension”, which shamelessly leaves every other song on the album in the dust. It’s a song that sounds like it should have been released in 1985 (and I mean that as a compliment). Just give it a listen. I promise you’ll have that synth riff stuck in your head for the next eight hours.

However, beyond “11th Dimension”, Phrazes gets a bit lost. Casablancas doesn’t seem to have a very good sense of how to edit these songs down and the vast majority of the album’s eight tracks are just way too long. “Ludlow St.” threatens to exceed six minutes, despite the fact that there’s virtually nothing going on within the song. The same goes for the five-minute-long “4 Chords Of The Apocalypse”, which is already slow to begin with. Add in an interminable running time and the song feels like it’s absolutely never going to end.

The album does gain some momentum back towards the end, with the strange and angular “River Of Brakelights” and honestly emotional “Glass”. Both of these songs let Casablancas play to his vocal strengths, as his semi-drunken drawl stretches syllables and words into grand, evocative phras(z)es. When Casablancas finally lets loose on the chorus to “Glass”, it’s a moment of release you’ve been waiting for since the beginning of the album. Like the best Strokes songs, it’s a moment that blends urban hipness, youthful apathy and powerful emotions into one charming whole. Phrazes For The Young does have enough moments like this to keep things interesting, but with only eight songs to compare, the album’s shortcomings become a bit more obvious. There’s no room for lackluster tracks to hide and Phrazes is made up of very clear hits and misses.

Best Albums Of The 1990s, Pt. 5

#10
Gentlemen
Afghan Whigs
1993

Breakups suck. This is a universal fact, but few musicians have made breakups sound quite as horrifying as the Afghan Whigs’ Greg Dulli on Gentlemen. Screaming, howling and gurgling in the name of shattered love, Dulli’s vocal chords are positively abused on this album, resulting in songs that are both emotionally and physically painful to listen to. However, all this agony yielded a tremendous tour de force for the Cincinnati band, finally finding that middle ground between abrasive 90s rock and old-fashioned soul music that they’d struggled so hard to find. Some songs are immediate and in your face (“Debonair”) while others seethe and glower (“Be Sweet” and the heart-wrenching “My Curse”), but through the whole album, the band hurls acidic music at every failed relationship in history. It may have been cool to sing about how alienated and misunderstood you were during the 90s, but Dulli and the Whigs were just fine with writing about the ol’ romance blues.

#9
Jar Of Flies
Alice In Chains
1994

There are several things amazing about the fact that Jar Of Flies debuted at #1 on the Billboard charts in 1994. First of all, it was actually an EP, featuring only seven songs over the course of half-an-hour, making it the very first EP to ever claim the top spot on the charts. Second, it didn’t sound anything like the music Alice In Chains were famous for. Despite a variety of electric instruments used during the recording, Jar Of Flies has a decidedly stripped down, unplugged feel to it, emphasizing the intricate guitar work of Jerry Cantrell and Layne Staley’s expressive, emotionally charged vocal performances. Jar Of Flies also contains some decidedly upbeat numbers, particularly “No Excuses”, which was quite a one-eighty turn from their previous album, which was all about heroin addiction. Yet, it’s “Nutshell” that steals the whole show, a semi-acoustic tearjerker which stands as the finest single song to come out of the entire Seattle grunge scene (eat your heart out, “Teen Spirit”!). Eight years later, Staley would be dead and grunge the victim of some major cultural backlash. To this day, I couldn’t imagine a better epitaph for either the man or the genre than this exquisite EP.

#8
To Bring You My Love
PJ Harvey
1995

From the moment its first tentative guitar lick oozes out of your speakers, you know you’re in for something special with To Bring You My Love. After two albums of barbed fury and psychodrama, PJ Harvey pulled out all the stops with her third album, releasing a sprawling collection of songs that sounded like they just crawled out of a Louisiana swamp. As strange as it is to hear a woman raised in South England performing such a startling approximation of raw, American blues, the resulting album feels so natural for Harvey that you wonder why she’s never recorded another one like it. Her dynamic voice is in full effect, leaping from the bombastic “Long Snake Moan” all the way down to the wallowing “I Think I’m A Mother”. To Bring You My Love is genuinely frightening at times, especially during the whispered closing segment of “Down By The Water”. This is not a healthy album by any means, but PJ Harvey never sounds all that great when she’s comfortable. Her music thrives on passion, anger and desperation. To Bring You My Love has all three and more.

#7
Mezzanine
Massive Attack
1998

Despite starting the decade by releasing Blue Lines and then watching an entire genre of music pop up in its wake, Massive Attack had evolved far beyond trip-hop by the end of the 90s. Jettisoning trip-hop’s smoky atmosphere and retro-romantic cool, they released the dark and ominous Mezzanine, one of the most oppressive and claustrophobic records of the entire decade. Singles like “Risingson” and the slow-burning “Angel” heralded this new sound, leaving much of the band’s hip-hop influence behind them and replacing them with tricks stolen from modern hard rock, as well as electronica. From beginning to end, Mezzanine closes in around you, only loosening its grip on a reimagining of the reggae standard “Man Next Door” and the stunning “Teardrop” (since co-opted by FOX as the House theme song). Outside of those brief moments of relief, you’re trapped in Mezzanine’s pitch-black world.

#6
Loveless
My Bloody Valentine
1991

“Ethereal” and “noisy-as-all-hell” usually aren’t adjectives used to describe the same thing. Yet, they’re the two most appropriate words to describe Loveless, My Bloody Valentine’s jaw-dropping monument to the power of guitar overdubbing and thousands upon thousands of dollars. The three years it took to record the album destroyed MBV’s internal chemistry and almost bankrupted their label, but two generations of music lovers are more than thankful that they put in all that extra work. Loveless is nothing less than an ocean of guitar. You don’t listen to these songs; your ears surf on them. Yet, the whole thing doesn’t have any of the sinister weight of metal or the abusive energy of punk. All those multilayered guitars end up creating something very dreamlike and even whimsical in a way. It helps that the band’s virtually wordless blend of male and female harmonies creates a sonic atmosphere where things are blurred and barely intelligible. There are even a few catchy numbers stirred into the mix, culminating in the addictive closing song, “Soon”. My Bloody Valentine have never released a follow-up to Loveless and perhaps it’s a good thing. Music can’t really get much bigger than this.

#5
The Bends
Radiohead
1995

It seems hilarious in retrospect, but Radiohead where originally predicted to be one-hit wonders, joining all the other flash-in-pan bands that rode to success in a post-Nirvana era. “Creep” was certainly a great song, but did this odd English band actually have a future outside of Best Of The 90s compilations? Any and all skeptics were silenced by The Bends, which may not have featured “Creep 2.0”, but instead offered up twelve balanced, nuanced and frankly astonishing alterna-rock anthems. Radiohead were still a pop-oriented band (literally half these songs were released as successful singles), but The Bends showed that there were some much bigger ambitions under the surface. From the guitar spazzfest of “Just” to the wondrous ballad “Fake Plastic Trees”, The Bends transformed Radiohead overnight into a “serious” band, who were pushing the boundaries of modern music. Of course, people still weren’t prepared for what they would do next, but for the time being, The Bends announced that a new, bold musical force was arriving on the scene for good.

#4
Liquid Swords
Genius/GZA
1995

Wu-Tang solo records tend to be crapshoots. Without the collaborative magic that fueled Enter The Wu-Tang to push them along, most of the group’s nine members tend to sound a bit lost and overwhelmed when they go and record on their own. The grand exception to this rule is the GZA, whose Liquid Swords does the unthinkable and actually leaves Enter The Wu-Tang in the dust. Much of the credit goes to the RZA’s close production, conjuring up a dark, swirling atmosphere out of old samurai movie clips and insistent keyboards. Liquid Swords sounds cold and emotionally distant, lacking the party edge you hear on most other Wu-related albums. All this compliments the GZA’s style perfectly, letting his no-nonsense verses cut you to the core. Liquid Swords may be rather humorless and icy, but it’s not just heavy-handed preaching. GZA’s words are smart, always approaching his target from an unexpected angle, revealing some subtle details in the process. GZA may not have been Wu’s most dominating personality, but on Liquid Swords, he stakes his claim as their smartest and most piercing lyricist and storyteller.

#3
Laughing Stock
Talk Talk
1991

Some albums take a long time to be appreciated. They stretch and grow inside your imagination, going from “oh, that’s nice” to “my god, I have to listen to this album every eight minutes.” Discovering these “growers” is one of the things I enjoy most about being an obsessive music nut. That said…Laughing Stock was not one of those records for me. From the very moment I heard the shattered guitar strum that opens “Myrrhman”, I knew this would be a very important album in my life. This is an album built on a trembling skeleton of songwriting, letting open space and slow tempos set the mood, before sparse guitar and some relentless jazz drums flesh things out. But the real appeal of Laughing Stock lies in the stark and fragile emotions that are present in each and every moment of its all-too-brief forty minute running time. These songs should howl with desperation and hopelessness, but instead they whisper, making those powerful forces feel all the more strained and urgent. This is a very sad record, but it never fails to lift its head up high and compose itself with grace and dignity.

#2
This Is Hardcore
Pulp
1998

“This is the sound of someone losing the plot,” Jarvis Cocker sings, “making out that they’re ok when they’re not.” As always, Jarvis’ words render everyone else’s unnecessary and that brief quip, from This Is Hardcore’s opener, “The Fear”, remains the single best description of this seedy, warped and deeply troubled masterpiece. After becoming an inexplicable pop star (and sex symbol to boot) on the back of Different Class, Jarvis could have done several things to capitalize on this newfound success. Instead, he wrote “Party Hard” and then watched as the world desperately tried to come to terms with music this depressed, caustic and downright rotten. Fame did not sit well with Cocker, and the repulsion you feel when you first hear these songs is mutual. You don’t like them and Cocker doesn’t like you. Still, the thoroughness with which this album pushes you away is impressive. Whether it’s the terrifyingly obsessed “Seductive Barry” or the bitterness that lurks around every turn in “Help The Aged”, This Is Hardcore is never willing to throw the casual pop listener a bone. By the time you get to the world-obliterating title track, you realize that things are beyond your control. Nothing will get in the way of Cocker’s self-sabotage and listeners can only sit back and try not to get hit by the debris.

#1
OK Computer
Radiohead
1997

Radiohead defined the 90s with two key musical statements. The first was “Creep”, a song so perfectly suited to its time that the band almost never escaped from its imposing shadow. “Creep” takes its place alongside Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and Beck’s “Loser” as songs that completely capture the odd zeitgeist of apathy and negativity that characterized so much of 90s music and pop culture. “Creep” ensured that even if Radiohead never recorded another note, they’d be remembered. But that’s not what happened. Who could have predicted that five years later, that very same band would release the single best album of the entire decade, in the process slamming the door closed on the 90s (and three years early, to boot)? It’s still mind-boggling when you realize that “Creep” and OK Computer were recorded by the same band. One captures a moment in time. The other captures the entire future! The new millennium was already beginning to peek its big bald head over the horizon and Radiohead beat the Y2K craze to the punch by releasing an album positively quaking with modernist paranoia and existential fear. And yet…it all sounds so pretty.

This is the weirdest element of OK Computer. How does an album this distraught and unstable end up sounding flat-out beautiful? How can a song about alien abduction (“Subterranean Homesick Alien”) end up as a shimmering, sparkling wall of guitar textures and arpeggios? Much of the credit goes to Thom Yorke, whose voice is unlike any sound heard on Earth. Yorke’s slurred wail is both beautiful and deeply frightening, especially when all you can really understand are choice lyrical snippets like “this is what you get when you mess with us.” But what really galvanizes OK Computer is the chemistry between these five men from Oxford and the bond between them that has continued to give us incredible music more than a decade later. Ed O’Brien’s guitar textures and backing vocals give the music depth and resonance. Colin Greenwood’s bass gives it weight, while his brother Jonny contributes an endless supply of jarring guitar riffs and dissonant noise. Holding everything together, you’ve got Phil Selway, a drummer who can literally do anything. He can make drums sing if he needs to. When you put these five men together, amazing things happen. You get “Karma Police”. You get “Paranoid Android”. You get the blissful escapism of “No Surprises”, as well as the psychotic extremes of “Climbing Up The Walls”. You get songs about little people, clinging to anything they can to stay strong in the face of an uncertain and dehumanizing future. You get OK Computer.

Best Albums Of The 1990s, Pt. 4

#20
In Utero
Nirvana
1993

The shift in sound from Nevermind to In Utero is just staggering. Tossing Nevermind’s sparkling production out the window, producer Steve Albini brought out every rough edge he could find in Nirvana, particularly from Dave Grohl’s skull-crushing drums. Of course, Cobain gave him some pretty bleak material to work with. This album is nothing if not unhealthy, a seething, cancerous mass of anger, alienation and unspeakably black humor. It still topped the charts, but I think everyone listening to In Utero knew something was wrong. Even if they’re the voice of a rebellious generation, pop icons aren’t supposed to sound this damn tortured. In Utero is where the grunge party stopped being cool and become painfully real and personal, a feeling that is only magnified in retrospect.

#19
Illmatic
Nas
1994

No one, not even Nas himself, has ever released an album quite like Illmatic. Apparently, the recipe for its incredible combination of lyrical wit, storytelling and compelling beats has been lost to time, a sort of Holy Grail of album-oriented rap. It helps that there’s only one guest verse on the entire album, letting Nas himself do all the heavy-lifting and keeping things intense, focused and raw. The music doesn’t slouch either, whether we’re talking the grinding jazz of “N.Y. State Of Mind” or the smooth, radio-ready groove of “Life’s A Bitch”. As rap music becomes increasingly single-oriented, looking back to Illmatic seems inevitable. No rap album had ever sounded this complete and fully realized upon its release. In many ways, nothing has sounded that way since, either.

#18
In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
Neutral Milk Hotel
1998

To this day, I’ve never understood the mass love affair people have with this album. People positively drool over this album, throwing praise at it like they were afraid it would somehow sneak out the door forever if they didn’t lavish it with attention and care. All I know is that In The Aeroplane Over The Sea is an impressively difficult album, finding ways to be enjoyable despite a multitude of factors that should keep people away. You’ve got the unusual, bombastic-yet-acoustic musical background. You’ve got trumpets and French horns and other non-rock instruments. You’ve got Jeff Magnum’s obnoxiously nasal voice. And then there’s the whole fact that the songs are all pretty damn depressing, populated by weird characters like the King Of Carrot Flowers and the Two-Headed Boy. Yet, somehow, Aeroplane has hit a chord with listeners for over a decade. I may never understand why, exactly, but perhaps it’s a mystery better left unsolved.

#17
Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)
Wu-Tang Clan
1993

If you can get past the surface bleakness and street-level social reporting of the rapping, it becomes obvious that ­Enter The Wu-Tang is basically one huge party from start to finish. With nine emcees wandering through the studio and running all over each other’s tracks, the recording sessions for this album must have been an absolute blast. This is reflected in the cool confidence and chemistry between all the Clan members, weaving their verses around each other to create this giant, multifaceted rap masterpiece. The album also gives each member just enough time to establish a personality, each with their own distinct flavor. With the whole thing tied together by the RZA’s airtight production, Enter The Wu-Tang is a timeless album that documents one of the most impressive collections of raw musical talent ever assembled.

#16
Pinkerton
Weezer
1996

Two years after their debut album showered the world in winning power-pop, Weezer unleashed Pinkerton to a confused and generally unhappy reception. Suddenly, those cute songs about sweaters and surfing were replaced by Rivers Cuomo’s angst and sexual frustration. It would be several years before fans finally realized what an impressive album Weezer had released, eventually being considered a founding cornerstone in what would become emo music. However, for all its self-flagellation and indulgence, it never reaches the whinny extremes of these modern, mascara-streaked doofuses. Pinkerton may not have been all that poppy, but it was still smart and catchy, especially on the paint-peeling diatribe “Tired Of Sex”. Plus, Cuomo found a way to make songs about lusting after 18-year-old Japanese fans and lesbians hummable. If that’s not impressive, I don’t know what is.

#15
Goat
The Jesus Lizard
1991

It’s really astonishing that an album this fierce and sonically brutal could be so damn funny, but sure enough, Goat is one of hard rock’s most enduring comedy albums, even if few people realize it. Take “Mouth Breather”, a song that sounds like pure evil but is actually about nothing more sinister than house-sitting. The same goes for the pounding lead single, “Nub”, which makes amputations sound positively giddy (“hey man, say man, have you been rubbing your nub?”). The music reflects this inherent combination of ferocity and absurdism, blending Big Black-style aural assault with nothing less than country music, harkening back to the band’s Texan roots. You may never really understand what the Jesus Lizard are singing about, thanks to David Yow’s madman yammering, but it’s always best not to take them too seriously. The band’s members aren’t and neither should you.

#14
Bone Machine
Tom Waits
1992

Ever since the 1980s, when Tom Waits’ music took a turn for the weird, darkness lurked on the edges of his music. However, it wasn’t until the 90s and Bone Machine that he really gave himself over to these inclinations. The result is a festering album, crammed full of rot and death. Whether its people dying (“Murder In The Red Barn”) or the entire world (“Earth Died Screaming”), vitality and life have very little place on this album. What really makes Bone Machine a masterpiece, however, is the way Waits doesn’t let his subject matter drag his music down into a depressed murk. His voice is as ragged and croaky as it’s ever been, but throughout this album, he sings with a newfound air of defiance and confidence, best heard on the swaggering “Goin’ Out West”. On Bone Machine, Tom Waits sings like the devil, toying with life and death and enjoying every minute.

#13
Tilt
Scott Walker
1995

After falling off the face of the musical map for twelve years, eccentric ex-pop star Scott Walker returned in 1995 with his album Tilt. The world wasn’t ready for it then and it still might not be now. Quite simply, Tilt isn’t like any known type of music. There’s some operatic elements mixed in, along with bits and pieces snatched from classical art music and even hard rock, but the end result is nothing but unique. Scott saturates his voice with emotion, letting the pathos virtually bleed out of your speakers, all while colossal blocks of avant-garde noise crash around you. Yet, if you can weather the assault and get to the eye of the storm (the haunted closer “Rosary”), you begin to realize just what an incredible journey you’ve made. Tilt is a bold, challenging and often harrowing piece of music, but it also offers a unique set of rewards, guiding you through some very untamed musical grounds.

#12
Let Love In
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
1994

If Murder Ballads was Nick Cave’s mature album, Let Love In was his last glorious romp through youth. Finally dispelling the aimlessness that characterized his post-drug albums, Let Love In roars with energy, letting fierce songs like “Jangling Jack” and “Thirsty Dog” run wild and free. Even the ballads on the album have some viciousness lurking just beneath the surface, as “Ain’t Gonna Rain Anymore” and the album’s title track prove. Let Love In was a necessary turning point in Nick’s career, but unlike other transitional albums, it isn’t plagued by awkward experiments or forced stylistic changes. Cave and the Seeds simply got all this fury, rage and passion out of the system in one fell swoop, creating a wild and highly enjoyable musical experience in the process.

#11
Vs.
Pearl Jam
1993

Between their debut album and Vs., something changed in Pearl Jam’s approach to writing music. Instead of writing the big rock anthems that catapulted them to success, they began to trim their music down, creating lean, barbed songs that practically foamed at the mouth. Perhaps they were already subconsciously chafing against the mainstream music machine they would eventually abandon (and sue), but Vs. benefits from this shift immensely. “Go”, “Animal” and “Rearviewmirror” form the angry heart of the album, all leaving bruises when their finished. At the same time, Vs. was where Pearl Jam really unveiled their ability to craft masterful ballads. “Daughter” and “Indifference” open new doors for the band, letting their strong passions and emotions out without the roar of electric guitars driving them home. Vs. is the only Pearl Jam album where these two styles are in perfect balance, showing both sides of this powerful band in all their glory.

Best Albums Of The 1990s, Pt. 3

#30
Dummy
Portishead
1994

Although Massive Attack set the early bedrock, it’s Portishead’s Dummy that established just how effective trip-hop could be as a genre. Vividly emotional and sinister, Dummy still possesses a sweeping sense of majesty about it, mostly thanks to Beth Gibbons’ commanding, piercing voice. The albums plays like a great film noir soundtrack, just without the accompanying visuals, letting your imagination fill in the blanks. Using twisting guitar lines, tarnished horns and shuddering drum beats to full effect, Dummy remains, to this day, the golden standard for its genre.

#29
Weezer (The Blue Album)
Weezer
1994

As we learned this month, Weezer have completely fallen into self-parody in recent years (intentional or not). As tragic as that fact is, it just makes me appreciate the loud, rebellious joys of their debut album that much more. These ten songs hit you one after the other, reaching a level of pop consistency not seen since the Cars’ debut (mind you, since Ric Ocasek produced, that might not be a coincidence). “My Name Is Jonas”, “Buddy Holly” and “Say It Ain’t So” shine the brightest, but The Blue Album might as well just be a greatest hits collection. Despite positively wallowing in their nerdiness, every song here is a winner.

#28
Bee Thousand
Guided By Voices
1994

The 90s saw the emergence of the “lo-fi” genre, which basically was just an excuse for people to pass off horribly recorded albums as great art. Ok, maybe that’s a bit extreme, but to this day, “lo-fi” exists on a razor’s edge between artistic ingenuity and sheer sloppiness. What makes Bee Thousand so enjoyable is that it never claims to be anything other than a ramshackle mess of songs, thrown together without much rhyme or reason. Most of the tracks struggle to get past two minutes and many are simply unfinished, ending without warning or conclusion. Yet, through this haze of tape hiss, feedback and awful audio mixing, there’s a very impressive document of the band’s creative process, quite actively at work. The fact that great songs like “I Am A Scientist” managed to sneak in is just gravy.

#27
If You’re Feeling Sinister
Belle And Sebastian
1996

With their retro-leaning album covers and detailed lyricism, Scotland’s Belle And Sebastian picked up the mantle so carelessly thrown away by the Smiths in the late 80s. However, instead of Morrissey’s three-note range and warbling boredom, Belle And Sebastian were led by Stuart Murdoch’s whispery croon, imbuing their music with an almost painful amount of tenderness and fragility. If You’re Feeling Sinister was recorded before the band became slaves to that aesthetic, when things still sounded fresh and quietly enjoyable, riding along on an oh-so pleasant wave of sunny energy and lilting melodies.

#26
Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space
Spiritualized
1997

After Spiritualized bandleader Jason Pierce broke up with his girlfriend (and keyboardist to boot), he didn’t do the usual thing and write a maudlin album full of acoustic pining and self-indulgence. Instead, he created a towering monolith of noise to express his feelings and emotional chaos. Now, the fact that Pierce is known for being a psychedelic nutcase certainly helped push things in that direction, but those raw, human feelings still shine through. The crazed “Come Together” hits the hardest, but the whole album is a gargantuan slab of overblown emoting, as Pierce backs himself with crunchy guitars, blaring trumpets, gospel choirs and whoever else happened to be around. What the end result lacks in cohesiveness it more than makes up with in sheer size. There’s something very affecting about the idea of heart-broken man surrounding himself with everything in sight to keep from feeling lonely.

#25
Slanted And Enchanted
Pavement
1992

So much of the 90s were about celebrating laziness. This was the era of losers, creeps, zeros and slackers. Few albums capture this whole attitude as well as Pavement’s Slanted And Enchanted, which succeeds because it sounds too bored to be anything besides awesome. Steven Malkmus drawls sarcastically, while the band cranks out fuzz-drenched riffs and chords. In keeping with the times and the whole “lo-fi” movement, Slanted And Enchanted sounds like it was recorded on a cassette deck after being run over by an SUV, but there’s really no other way this album could sound. It’s not original (the Fall essentially recorded half these songs a decade earlier), it’s not polished and the band doesn’t seem to care. The album is effective. What more could you want?

#24
Nevermind
Nirvana
1991

I know it’s weird to see Nevermind this low on the list. Aren’t Nirvana supposed to be the be all and end all of 90s music? Well, sure, but three unbeatable singles and one generation-defining anthem don’t make an album. Nevermind is burdened by a variety of less-than-inspiring cuts and Butch Vig’s so-shiny-its-painful-to-look-at production job. Dave Grohl’s drums sound blunt and Kris Novoselic’s bass is practically in hiding. In other words, Nevermind might not be the masterpiece people remember it to be. However, its four singles are beyond criticism and the same goes for a handful of the album cuts, especially the haunting closing track, “Something In The Way”. On the back of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, Nevermind did indeed change culture. It’s just important to remember that not every one of its songs had a hand in the process.

#23
New Wave
The Auteurs
1993

The Auteurs’ Luke Haines fits perfectly into a long lineage of curmudgeonly English songwriters, all going back to their collective spiritual forefather, Ray Davies of the Kinks. The mid-90s would see a return to this type of barbed British pride (what the media later labeled “Britpop”), but Haines and New Wave got there a couple years before the mainstream wave. As such, they’ve been completely forgotten by time, but the backhanded quips in songs like “Show Girl” and “American Guitars” still retain most of their sting. Don’t be fooled by the chiming guitars and occasional cello lurking in the background. This album will bite.

#22
Parklife
Blur
1994

While we’re on the subject of Britpop, we might as well talk about the most fully realized and representative album of the entire genre. Just a year earlier, no one suspected that Blur were even capable of releasing an album this iconic, yet Parklife arrived, waving the flag for Anglo pride higher than anything else at the time. From Damon Albarn’s affected Cockney accent all the way to the sounds of bottles breaking throughout the album’s title track, Parklife stole British pop music away from dirty Americans like Nirvana and put it back into the hands of the hooligans. Never mind the fact that all four members of Blur were art school students, who were mostly just playing the part and attending token footy matches for photo ops. Fabricated or not, Parklife captured the mood of its era perfectly.

#21
Endtroducing…..
DJ Shadow
1996

The idea of an album made entirely of samples from other records sounds like a novelty hit. It’s gimmicky and is the kind of thing that can utterly define an album. All this makes Endtroducing….. that much more jaw-dropping, though. It should have been completely contained within its own identity, becoming “that album that’s all samples.” Instead, DJ Shadow created an astonishingly complete work, with songs that live and breathe and thrive despite their Frankenstein nature. Where else can hip-hop drum beats sit next to a Metallica baseline and not sound freakishly unnatural. Shadow took sampling to the stars and beyond, revealing the full implications of this emerging art form and creating a startling (and often inexplicably haunting) album in the process.