Top 100 Greatest Music Albums by 
babyBlueSedan 
My favorite albums, or "The 100 albums I'd keep if iTunes had a capacity of 100 albums."
The theme of this update, as with the past couple, is upheaval. Every time I update this I claim to be moving new favorite up higher while still stubbornly putting albums I used to love but never listen to anymore near the top. I won't know for sure if I've been more successful this time around until I update this again. But I hope that this current iteration shook things up a bit and added a bit more variety, even if that variety is in the form of albums most people have heard of. I've tried to include as many artists and genres where possible, partially because I want to appear more interesting than I actually am, but in the end this is still very rock and pop oriented. In particular, this iteration makes obvious my current love of plaintive folk/singer-songwriter stuff.
I've also relaxed my artist limits just a bit to highlight the artists I really love, but I still couldn't include everything I wanted because spots are so limited. In some cases I decided what to include based on what I wanted to write about. I recommend checking out my decade charts for more deep cuts.
Also, I appreciate all the kind and generous comments - they're my main motivation for updating this every couple years or so.
- Chart updated: 05/30/2020 02:15
- (Created: 07/31/2013 04:33).
- Chart size: 100 albums.
There are 98 comments for this chart from BestEverAlbums.com members and Top 100 Greatest Music Albums has an average rating of 94 out of 100 (from 149 votes). Please log in or register to leave a comment or assign a rating.
View the complete list of 53,000 charts on BestEverAlbums.com from The Charts page.
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like running through the forest as the czar's guards chase after you; as you trip and fall into a freezing river you feel your soul leave your body and get transported across the universe
A large amount of metal is absolutely ridiculous. I've never been a fan of rock operas because of the difficulties of trying to tell a story through multiple songs; often there are lots of throwaway numbers that serve only to advance the plot. And often they're completely ridiculous - Who thought it was a good idea to write an album about a blind and deaf man who becomes a cult leader and defeats a comically large Elton John in pinball along the way? Yes they did. Sorry.
So when it comes to metal albums, the concepts only get sillier, which is why I say you should go big or go home. So here it is; I present to you an album about a paraplegic child who can only move by astral traveling, but one night he gets sucked into a wormhole and astrally kidnapped by a Russian cult, who put his soul into the body of Rasputin, and while in Rasputin's body he tries to overthrow the czar but is murdered, and after this his soul and Rasptuin's soul travel the universe trying to get back to the child's body but encounter the devil on their way back and have to evade him. Got all that?
OK, I admit it's completely ridiculous.. Mastodon's first four records are great because of how they apply progressive metal to different concepts and different subgenres of metal. This is probably their most progressive in the sense that the songs structures are the most nontraditional, with long meandering tracks like "The Czar" and "The Last Baron" set next to shorter, fierce tracks like the wonderful opener "Oblivion." I'm also a sucker for albums with vocals from different people, so the fact that vocal duties here are traded among three of the band members and I'm completely sold. But I think what really makes this album is that you could listen to it without even realizing it's a concept album. The story isn't overbearing, and more than anything it's a pretty emotion work, with the title, and the title track, dedicated to the drummer's sister, who died by suicide at a young age. The chorus on that track is one of my favorite moments on the album, as it sounds like it climbs higher and higher, becoming uplifting in that angry way that only metal can be.
If you like over the top, adventurous metal you should definitely like this, but even if you don't I think the album is human enough to not turn you off. [First added to this chart: 11/17/2015]
A large amount of metal is absolutely ridiculous. I've never been a fan of rock operas because of the difficulties of trying to tell a story through multiple songs; often there are lots of throwaway numbers that serve only to advance the plot. And often they're completely ridiculous - Who thought it was a good idea to write an album about a blind and deaf man who becomes a cult leader and defeats a comically large Elton John in pinball along the way? Yes they did. Sorry.
So when it comes to metal albums, the concepts only get sillier, which is why I say you should go big or go home. So here it is; I present to you an album about a paraplegic child who can only move by astral traveling, but one night he gets sucked into a wormhole and astrally kidnapped by a Russian cult, who put his soul into the body of Rasputin, and while in Rasputin's body he tries to overthrow the czar but is murdered, and after this his soul and Rasptuin's soul travel the universe trying to get back to the child's body but encounter the devil on their way back and have to evade him. Got all that?
OK, I admit it's completely ridiculous.. Mastodon's first four records are great because of how they apply progressive metal to different concepts and different subgenres of metal. This is probably their most progressive in the sense that the songs structures are the most nontraditional, with long meandering tracks like "The Czar" and "The Last Baron" set next to shorter, fierce tracks like the wonderful opener "Oblivion." I'm also a sucker for albums with vocals from different people, so the fact that vocal duties here are traded among three of the band members and I'm completely sold. But I think what really makes this album is that you could listen to it without even realizing it's a concept album. The story isn't overbearing, and more than anything it's a pretty emotion work, with the title, and the title track, dedicated to the drummer's sister, who died by suicide at a young age. The chorus on that track is one of my favorite moments on the album, as it sounds like it climbs higher and higher, becoming uplifting in that angry way that only metal can be.
If you like over the top, adventurous metal you should definitely like this, but even if you don't I think the album is human enough to not turn you off. [First added to this chart: 11/17/2015]
Year of Release:
2009
Appears in:
Rank Score:
1,701
Rank in 2009:
Rank in 2000s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
15
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking into your house after picking your kid up from soccer practice and discovering that your wife already ate dinner without you
I thought about making the summary of the album "Like walking into a room where a The National album is playing," but I respect the craft of summary-writing too much to do that. But you see, if you've heard one album by this band you'll have a pretty good idea of what their other albums sound like. The National get a lot of flack for not changing their sound, but to be honest their run from Alligator through this one is so good I really can't fault them. It was hard to choose which album to include here, and although Alligator was long my favorite I have to give it to this one simply because it's the one I find myself listening to the most.
So why is that? Musically of course it's par for the course - I think there might be a bit more piano on this one but I could be imagining that. There are a few upbeat songs like "Graceless" and "Don't Swallow the Cap" that don't feel out of place; Alligator had those too but they stuck out a bit like a sore thumb there. Here they slide in perfectly next to incredibly slowly-paced songs like "This Is the Last Time" and "I Need My Girl."
But the main reason might be the lyrics, which is pretty unique for a The National album. Matt Berninger loves to wallow in vague sadness, and when he's not writing inane lyrics like "it's a common fetish for a doting man to ballerina on the coffee table cock in hand" he has a tendency to play it pretty safe. But there are all kinds of lyrical gems on this one, from "I was a television version of a person with a broken heart" on "Pink Rabbits" to "Your love is such a swamp, you don't look before you jump" on "This Is the Last Time." Your mileage for appreciating these lyrics may vary, as they straddle the line between corny and affecting. But even if you fall on the corny side, you need to give it up for the cathartic refrain of "I should live in salt for leaving you-ou-ou," right? Or "I have only two emotions, careful fear and dead devotion, I can't get the balance right" from "Don't Swallow the Cap." And even if THAT doesn't do it for you (and you seem like a pretty self-serious person if that's the case) you'll definitely enjoy singing along to "God loves everybody, don't remind me" on "Graceless." [First added to this chart: 05/29/2020]
I thought about making the summary of the album "Like walking into a room where a The National album is playing," but I respect the craft of summary-writing too much to do that. But you see, if you've heard one album by this band you'll have a pretty good idea of what their other albums sound like. The National get a lot of flack for not changing their sound, but to be honest their run from Alligator through this one is so good I really can't fault them. It was hard to choose which album to include here, and although Alligator was long my favorite I have to give it to this one simply because it's the one I find myself listening to the most.
So why is that? Musically of course it's par for the course - I think there might be a bit more piano on this one but I could be imagining that. There are a few upbeat songs like "Graceless" and "Don't Swallow the Cap" that don't feel out of place; Alligator had those too but they stuck out a bit like a sore thumb there. Here they slide in perfectly next to incredibly slowly-paced songs like "This Is the Last Time" and "I Need My Girl."
But the main reason might be the lyrics, which is pretty unique for a The National album. Matt Berninger loves to wallow in vague sadness, and when he's not writing inane lyrics like "it's a common fetish for a doting man to ballerina on the coffee table cock in hand" he has a tendency to play it pretty safe. But there are all kinds of lyrical gems on this one, from "I was a television version of a person with a broken heart" on "Pink Rabbits" to "Your love is such a swamp, you don't look before you jump" on "This Is the Last Time." Your mileage for appreciating these lyrics may vary, as they straddle the line between corny and affecting. But even if you fall on the corny side, you need to give it up for the cathartic refrain of "I should live in salt for leaving you-ou-ou," right? Or "I have only two emotions, careful fear and dead devotion, I can't get the balance right" from "Don't Swallow the Cap." And even if THAT doesn't do it for you (and you seem like a pretty self-serious person if that's the case) you'll definitely enjoy singing along to "God loves everybody, don't remind me" on "Graceless." [First added to this chart: 05/29/2020]
Year of Release:
2013
Appears in:
Rank Score:
6,056
Rank in 2013:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking through your neighborhood feeling yourself turn from a child to an adult
When I rate albums or rank them on this chart, I do so purely based on how much I enjoy them. Taking things like influence, originality, or critical acclaim into account would be silly because that doesn't affect how often I want to listen to an album. But for a long time, this one was a bit of an exception. There was a long period where, though I liked it enough to give it a spin every year or so, I appreciated it much more than I enjoyed it. And if you're at all a fan of rap, it's hard not to appreciate this album. But it wasn't something I ever felt like I needed to hear; as good as Nas's rhymes are I didn't feel there were really any standout moments. It was more of a textbook on how to make a great rap album and less of a book I wanted to read for pleasure.
At some point I listened to this and realized that I was a dummy for thinking that. I'm not sure what made it finally click, but I think it had to do with listening to it while driving around rather than sitting at home. The reason is that this album is so chock-full of rapping that it more or less requires your undivided attention, and as much as I try my best to focus on music while listening my mind sometimes wanders. When I'm driving I'm more focused, because what else am I going to do, keep an eye out for pedestrians? Listening to it in the car also let me break the album up into more manageable chunks, which helped me to appreciate just how great it is. But again, I feel silly for needing the right environment for this to click, because it's just so good.
I don't want to talk too much about Nas's lyrics because books have been written on them and I could never do them justice. But the most impressive thing to me is that here is never a moment wasted on this album; every line contributes to some rhyme scheme, which feel like Tetris blocks being put into place. And not only that, but every line feels like it has meaning. He's not rhyming just to fit patterns together, he's telling powerful stories about growing up black in a poor neighborhood and what it's taught him. This isn't gangsta rap, but it still touches on life in that type of environment in a very honest way, as if to say "this is what I've gone through to get here." NY State of Mind expertly blends the violence around him with the desire to do something more with one's life, and One Love is a really affecting letter to a friend in jail. And the production is great too; Nas is rapping over some really great beats from some of the top producers of the era. But despite all of that, the real thing that makes this album unbeatable is its length. In an era where rap albums were getting increasingly long and were filled with pointless skits, Nas put out a forty minute masterpiece where not a single minute is wasted. I like good rapping sure, but I also value efficiency.
And because you know I had to talk about the lyrics just a bit: Life's a Bitch is potentially the best rap song ever. Nas's verse is the second best verse on the album, but he STILL gets beaten on this track because AZ's verse is just THAT good. I mean:
"We were beginners in the hood as Five Percenters
But somethin' must've got in us, cuz all of us turned to sinners"
Is crazy because a lot of those words wouldn't usually be thought of as rhyming. And then Nas comes back with maybe the best rap line of all time:
"I changed my motto, instead of saying fuck tomorrow
The buck that bought the bottle could've struck the lotto"
And then Nas's dad comes in and plays that sick trumpet outro. What a beautiful song. [First added to this chart: 05/29/2020]
When I rate albums or rank them on this chart, I do so purely based on how much I enjoy them. Taking things like influence, originality, or critical acclaim into account would be silly because that doesn't affect how often I want to listen to an album. But for a long time, this one was a bit of an exception. There was a long period where, though I liked it enough to give it a spin every year or so, I appreciated it much more than I enjoyed it. And if you're at all a fan of rap, it's hard not to appreciate this album. But it wasn't something I ever felt like I needed to hear; as good as Nas's rhymes are I didn't feel there were really any standout moments. It was more of a textbook on how to make a great rap album and less of a book I wanted to read for pleasure.
At some point I listened to this and realized that I was a dummy for thinking that. I'm not sure what made it finally click, but I think it had to do with listening to it while driving around rather than sitting at home. The reason is that this album is so chock-full of rapping that it more or less requires your undivided attention, and as much as I try my best to focus on music while listening my mind sometimes wanders. When I'm driving I'm more focused, because what else am I going to do, keep an eye out for pedestrians? Listening to it in the car also let me break the album up into more manageable chunks, which helped me to appreciate just how great it is. But again, I feel silly for needing the right environment for this to click, because it's just so good.
I don't want to talk too much about Nas's lyrics because books have been written on them and I could never do them justice. But the most impressive thing to me is that here is never a moment wasted on this album; every line contributes to some rhyme scheme, which feel like Tetris blocks being put into place. And not only that, but every line feels like it has meaning. He's not rhyming just to fit patterns together, he's telling powerful stories about growing up black in a poor neighborhood and what it's taught him. This isn't gangsta rap, but it still touches on life in that type of environment in a very honest way, as if to say "this is what I've gone through to get here." NY State of Mind expertly blends the violence around him with the desire to do something more with one's life, and One Love is a really affecting letter to a friend in jail. And the production is great too; Nas is rapping over some really great beats from some of the top producers of the era. But despite all of that, the real thing that makes this album unbeatable is its length. In an era where rap albums were getting increasingly long and were filled with pointless skits, Nas put out a forty minute masterpiece where not a single minute is wasted. I like good rapping sure, but I also value efficiency.
And because you know I had to talk about the lyrics just a bit: Life's a Bitch is potentially the best rap song ever. Nas's verse is the second best verse on the album, but he STILL gets beaten on this track because AZ's verse is just THAT good. I mean:
"We were beginners in the hood as Five Percenters
But somethin' must've got in us, cuz all of us turned to sinners"
Is crazy because a lot of those words wouldn't usually be thought of as rhyming. And then Nas comes back with maybe the best rap line of all time:
"I changed my motto, instead of saying fuck tomorrow
The buck that bought the bottle could've struck the lotto"
And then Nas's dad comes in and plays that sick trumpet outro. What a beautiful song. [First added to this chart: 05/29/2020]
Year of Release:
1994
Appears in:
Rank Score:
18,532
Rank in 1994:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking into a roadside bar and seeing the girl you had a crush on back in high school
For those not familiar with The Gaslight Anthem, I can describe what this album sounds like in two words: Bruce Springsteen. Getting a bit more detailed, I can described it as "Bruce Springsteen in the 50s." Now, you'll notice this album was released in 2008. Here I am claiming that not only is this album better than anything the Boss himself ever did , but also that an album focused on values and ideas from half a decade earlier doesn't sound like a retread. In fact, this album sounds full of life and heart. Does it feel more authentically working class than Springsteen? No. And I don't think vocalist Brian Fallon has quite the tired and anxious emotion in his voice that Springsteen did at his best moments. But this album is packed with foot stomping heartland rock hits, and frankly the fact that I'm still comparing it to Springsteen at this point is selling it short, so I'm going to stop that.
What The Gaslight Anthem add to heartland rock is something that I didn't realize it was missing until I heard it: a punk attitude. Now I realize that sounds a bit meaningless because, like, what even is punk anymore man? Well, heartland rock with a punk attitude is songs that sound perfect coming out of a jukebox in the only bar in a small town but that also could form a decent sized moshpit in concert. It's Fallon singing "I lit a fire that wouldn't go out until it consumed the walls and roof of this house." And it's riding the acoustic "Here's Looking at You Kid" into the most bombastic moment on the album, the guitar onslaught of "The Backseat," after which Fallon alternates between wishing for "room for our knees" and "room to breathe" in the backseat of his friend's car.
Punk was always about the everyman, but so was heartland rock. Springsteen wrote unpretentious songs for factory workers who came home with dirt on their hands and spent the few hours of free time they had playing catch with their children. In the time of The Gaslight Anthem, this idea feels a bit outdated. It still exists, but technology has moved many of those factory workers on to other jobs. These songs recognize this and don't pretend like they're still living in Springsteen's world. If they had pretended that, I think this album would sound like a weak pastiche. Instead, the band took the heart of those songs - the anxiety, the loneliness, the weariness, and (this one is the most important) the regret - and channeled those emotions into songs that feel nostalgic but still purely of their time. Yes, they quote Springsteen a few times. Yes, they mention Marilyn Monroe (via a Tom Waits reference). Yes, they allude to '59 and '62 and other years that were long since over by the time Fallon was born in 1980. But somehow, it doesn't sound like pandering. As I mentioned, the regret is the key to these songs. Regret is an emotion that takes years to build, and the nostalgic feel on this album conjures up images of years long gone. On opener "Great Expectations," Fallon sings about a women who he always used to find at a diner. Most people have been to a diner. Did someone born in 1980 ever frequent a diner? Maybe. It doesn't matter; his description of the women and how "her hair was raven, and her heart was like a tomb," followed up with "my heart's like a wound" communicates a wide swath of emotions in just a few sentences. Nevermind the "Everybody leaves and I'd expect as much from you" chorus.
It's this poetry that keeps the album aloft among song after song of fist pumping but admittedly not ground breaking rock and roll. The title track finds Fallon wondering which song he'll hear when he dies before hoping "it's something quiet, minor, peaceful, and slow." Later he relives a good friend's death, asking him "Did you hear the old gospel choir as they came to carry you over? Did you hear your favorite song one last time?" On "High and Lonesome" he appeals to people nostalgic for the 90s with a Counting Crows reference before admitting "I always kinda sorta wished I was someone else." Even "The Patient Ferris Wheel," which is full of Springsteen references and cliches, feel exhilarating. The album culminates on its penultimate song, one about regret of missed opportunities that's laid out as a suicide note. The narrator is not a hero - he lies to impress women who probably barely remember him and says things like "boys will be boys." But very few of us are heroes ourselves, and the hurt he's expressing is universal.
For those not familiar with The Gaslight Anthem, I can describe what this album sounds like in two words: Bruce Springsteen. Getting a bit more detailed, I can described it as "Bruce Springsteen in the 50s." Now, you'll notice this album was released in 2008. Here I am claiming that not only is this album better than anything the Boss himself ever did , but also that an album focused on values and ideas from half a decade earlier doesn't sound like a retread. In fact, this album sounds full of life and heart. Does it feel more authentically working class than Springsteen? No. And I don't think vocalist Brian Fallon has quite the tired and anxious emotion in his voice that Springsteen did at his best moments. But this album is packed with foot stomping heartland rock hits, and frankly the fact that I'm still comparing it to Springsteen at this point is selling it short, so I'm going to stop that.
What The Gaslight Anthem add to heartland rock is something that I didn't realize it was missing until I heard it: a punk attitude. Now I realize that sounds a bit meaningless because, like, what even is punk anymore man? Well, heartland rock with a punk attitude is songs that sound perfect coming out of a jukebox in the only bar in a small town but that also could form a decent sized moshpit in concert. It's Fallon singing "I lit a fire that wouldn't go out until it consumed the walls and roof of this house." And it's riding the acoustic "Here's Looking at You Kid" into the most bombastic moment on the album, the guitar onslaught of "The Backseat," after which Fallon alternates between wishing for "room for our knees" and "room to breathe" in the backseat of his friend's car.
Punk was always about the everyman, but so was heartland rock. Springsteen wrote unpretentious songs for factory workers who came home with dirt on their hands and spent the few hours of free time they had playing catch with their children. In the time of The Gaslight Anthem, this idea feels a bit outdated. It still exists, but technology has moved many of those factory workers on to other jobs. These songs recognize this and don't pretend like they're still living in Springsteen's world. If they had pretended that, I think this album would sound like a weak pastiche. Instead, the band took the heart of those songs - the anxiety, the loneliness, the weariness, and (this one is the most important) the regret - and channeled those emotions into songs that feel nostalgic but still purely of their time. Yes, they quote Springsteen a few times. Yes, they mention Marilyn Monroe (via a Tom Waits reference). Yes, they allude to '59 and '62 and other years that were long since over by the time Fallon was born in 1980. But somehow, it doesn't sound like pandering. As I mentioned, the regret is the key to these songs. Regret is an emotion that takes years to build, and the nostalgic feel on this album conjures up images of years long gone. On opener "Great Expectations," Fallon sings about a women who he always used to find at a diner. Most people have been to a diner. Did someone born in 1980 ever frequent a diner? Maybe. It doesn't matter; his description of the women and how "her hair was raven, and her heart was like a tomb," followed up with "my heart's like a wound" communicates a wide swath of emotions in just a few sentences. Nevermind the "Everybody leaves and I'd expect as much from you" chorus.
It's this poetry that keeps the album aloft among song after song of fist pumping but admittedly not ground breaking rock and roll. The title track finds Fallon wondering which song he'll hear when he dies before hoping "it's something quiet, minor, peaceful, and slow." Later he relives a good friend's death, asking him "Did you hear the old gospel choir as they came to carry you over? Did you hear your favorite song one last time?" On "High and Lonesome" he appeals to people nostalgic for the 90s with a Counting Crows reference before admitting "I always kinda sorta wished I was someone else." Even "The Patient Ferris Wheel," which is full of Springsteen references and cliches, feel exhilarating. The album culminates on its penultimate song, one about regret of missed opportunities that's laid out as a suicide note. The narrator is not a hero - he lies to impress women who probably barely remember him and says things like "boys will be boys." But very few of us are heroes ourselves, and the hurt he's expressing is universal.
Year of Release:
2008
Appears in:
Rank Score:
1,557
Rank in 2008:
Rank in 2000s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking into a record store to buy some albums none of your friends have ever heard of
I don't watch a lot of music documentaries, though I wish I did. So I can't accurately say that Nothing Will Hurt Me, a documentary about Big Star, is the best music documentary ever. But I don't see how it can't be. Big Star was the classic critics band, one which received widespread acclaim but very little popular success. These days there are tons of bands who have carved out this niche, as critical acclaim usually spreads quickly over the Internet and attracts a certain kind of music fan. In the 70s, it guaranteed nothing, as evidenced by Big Star. The band fell apart over the course of three albums and then called it a day. But as far as soulful rock and power pop goes, few bands can top them.
Radio City was the band's second of three albums, recorded after founder Chris Bell left the band. The band's first album was a jubilant entry, and their last album was a deranged, scattered mess. This album falls somewhere in between. It retains the triumphant power pop sound of their first album while leaning lyrically towards themes of isolation and withdrawal. Backed by a crunching guitar, "Life Is White" starts out with the line "Don't want to see your face, don't want to see you talk at all." The next track, "Way Out West," turns 180 degrees around and is built around a chorus that asks "Why don't you come on back from way out west? And love me, we can work out the rest." After a mournful 36 minutes Radio City wraps up with a minute long track called "I'm In Love With A Girl" which thematically is the opposite of the rest of the album. But somehow it always manages to cheer me up and make me forget about the bad things in life.
By all means Big Star is what classic rock should have sounded like, but instead we got Kiss and Aerosmith and Rush. I guess we can't win them all, but at least we still have Radio City. (parting fun fact: Katy Perry's "California Gurls" is spelled wrong because Big Star member Alex Chilton had recently died and Perry or her manager or someone wanted to pay homage to the song "September Gurls") [First added to this chart: 01/30/2014]
I don't watch a lot of music documentaries, though I wish I did. So I can't accurately say that Nothing Will Hurt Me, a documentary about Big Star, is the best music documentary ever. But I don't see how it can't be. Big Star was the classic critics band, one which received widespread acclaim but very little popular success. These days there are tons of bands who have carved out this niche, as critical acclaim usually spreads quickly over the Internet and attracts a certain kind of music fan. In the 70s, it guaranteed nothing, as evidenced by Big Star. The band fell apart over the course of three albums and then called it a day. But as far as soulful rock and power pop goes, few bands can top them.
Radio City was the band's second of three albums, recorded after founder Chris Bell left the band. The band's first album was a jubilant entry, and their last album was a deranged, scattered mess. This album falls somewhere in between. It retains the triumphant power pop sound of their first album while leaning lyrically towards themes of isolation and withdrawal. Backed by a crunching guitar, "Life Is White" starts out with the line "Don't want to see your face, don't want to see you talk at all." The next track, "Way Out West," turns 180 degrees around and is built around a chorus that asks "Why don't you come on back from way out west? And love me, we can work out the rest." After a mournful 36 minutes Radio City wraps up with a minute long track called "I'm In Love With A Girl" which thematically is the opposite of the rest of the album. But somehow it always manages to cheer me up and make me forget about the bad things in life.
By all means Big Star is what classic rock should have sounded like, but instead we got Kiss and Aerosmith and Rush. I guess we can't win them all, but at least we still have Radio City. (parting fun fact: Katy Perry's "California Gurls" is spelled wrong because Big Star member Alex Chilton had recently died and Perry or her manager or someone wanted to pay homage to the song "September Gurls") [First added to this chart: 01/30/2014]
Year of Release:
1974
Appears in:
Rank Score:
2,081
Rank in 1974:
Rank in 1970s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking into a funeral parlor and sitting down inside a coffin to make an ironic statement on how the working world is slowing killing us all, but somehow coming off as charming instead of pretentious
Morrissey has proven himself to be full of awful opinions, but there's one thing (and probably only the one thing) that he's absolutely right about: this is the best Smiths album. It took me quite a while to come around to that opinion, as a lot of their best songs are on their other albums. And I'm usually one to prefer albums with high highs instead of a lack of filler. But sometimes when you're listening to "Vicar in a Tutu," or "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others," or the entire second half of side A of their debut you crave an album with wall-to-wall greatness. And as far as Smiths albums go, Strangeways comes the closest.
Not only is this album more consistent, but it's also got a lot more variety than their other albums. You've got the band's most danceable song in "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before," followed by the nearly two minute orchestral intro to "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me." You've got short little ditties like "Girlfriend in a Coma" and "Unhappy Birthday" as well as the (somewhat) epic "Paint a Vulgar Picture." The jangle pop influences are dialed back in a lot of cases, and in some cases (like "Last Night" and "Death of a Disco Dancer") gone entirely. You've got the marimba on the opener and the strings during the chorus of "Girlfriend in a Coma." In a lot of ways it feels fuller and more complete than their other albums.
And if you only come to the Smiths for Morrissey's sardonic lyrics, you won't be disappointed either. More than ever before he sounds bored here, not so much sad or full of longing but just tired of what life has to offer. A lot of this is because of the way he delivers his vocals in a way that feels disconnected from the subject matter. "Girlfriend in a Coma" is the most obvious example of this, with Morrissey jumping between concern and indifference for his comatose lover in a way that makes it seem like he only cares because it's what people expect him to do. On "Stop Me" he delivers a classic Morrissey line of "Nothing's changed, I still love you oh I still love you / Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to" during an upbeat verse that does its best to distract you from Morrissey basically just giving a bunch of excuses for being an asshole. But just as it's the centerpiece musically, "Paint a Vulgar Picture" is the standout lyrically. If you ignore the fact that the band later went on to do everything they're criticizing here, it's a pretty cutting takedown of the music industry trying to make a buck in any way possible. And again, the indifferent tone really makes it sting all the more, like when Morrissey sings "but you could have said no if you wanted to / you could have walked away...couldn't you?" in a way that makes it sound as if he's singing straight at you. Or when he winks at the audience by enunciating "you just haven't earned it yet baby" (which was the name of one of their other songs, you see). But then at the end he reveals he's singing from the perspective of the dead star's lover, and...well let's just say I have a lot of conflicted feelings on this song, but when I'm feeling misanthropic there's nothing I enjoy singing along to more than this. [First added to this chart: 05/29/2020]
Morrissey has proven himself to be full of awful opinions, but there's one thing (and probably only the one thing) that he's absolutely right about: this is the best Smiths album. It took me quite a while to come around to that opinion, as a lot of their best songs are on their other albums. And I'm usually one to prefer albums with high highs instead of a lack of filler. But sometimes when you're listening to "Vicar in a Tutu," or "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others," or the entire second half of side A of their debut you crave an album with wall-to-wall greatness. And as far as Smiths albums go, Strangeways comes the closest.
Not only is this album more consistent, but it's also got a lot more variety than their other albums. You've got the band's most danceable song in "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before," followed by the nearly two minute orchestral intro to "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me." You've got short little ditties like "Girlfriend in a Coma" and "Unhappy Birthday" as well as the (somewhat) epic "Paint a Vulgar Picture." The jangle pop influences are dialed back in a lot of cases, and in some cases (like "Last Night" and "Death of a Disco Dancer") gone entirely. You've got the marimba on the opener and the strings during the chorus of "Girlfriend in a Coma." In a lot of ways it feels fuller and more complete than their other albums.
And if you only come to the Smiths for Morrissey's sardonic lyrics, you won't be disappointed either. More than ever before he sounds bored here, not so much sad or full of longing but just tired of what life has to offer. A lot of this is because of the way he delivers his vocals in a way that feels disconnected from the subject matter. "Girlfriend in a Coma" is the most obvious example of this, with Morrissey jumping between concern and indifference for his comatose lover in a way that makes it seem like he only cares because it's what people expect him to do. On "Stop Me" he delivers a classic Morrissey line of "Nothing's changed, I still love you oh I still love you / Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to" during an upbeat verse that does its best to distract you from Morrissey basically just giving a bunch of excuses for being an asshole. But just as it's the centerpiece musically, "Paint a Vulgar Picture" is the standout lyrically. If you ignore the fact that the band later went on to do everything they're criticizing here, it's a pretty cutting takedown of the music industry trying to make a buck in any way possible. And again, the indifferent tone really makes it sting all the more, like when Morrissey sings "but you could have said no if you wanted to / you could have walked away...couldn't you?" in a way that makes it sound as if he's singing straight at you. Or when he winks at the audience by enunciating "you just haven't earned it yet baby" (which was the name of one of their other songs, you see). But then at the end he reveals he's singing from the perspective of the dead star's lover, and...well let's just say I have a lot of conflicted feelings on this song, but when I'm feeling misanthropic there's nothing I enjoy singing along to more than this. [First added to this chart: 05/29/2020]
Year of Release:
1987
Appears in:
Rank Score:
6,377
Rank in 1987:
Rank in 1980s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking into a religious ceremony, getting high off the incense, and meeting God
I don't like jazz. I don't mean that in a disdainful "jazz is meandering and artsy" way. I mean it in a sheepish "I've never been able to appreciate what jazz has to offer" way. Outside of learning sheet music so I could play the piano as a kid, I have no musical training or knowledge. I know nothing about music theory; I evaluate music purely on the way it makes me feel with no regard to how impressive or novel anything is. As such, a lot of classic jazz albums sound pleasant but make me feel almost nothing. People say great things about Kind of Blue, but I hear nothing interesting about it. It's forty minutes of elevator music. "It's about the notes they're not playing" they say. Well, then they should play those notes so I know what I'm missing.
Pharoah Sanders plays an awful lot of notes on this album. He starts right out of the gate, with some loud blasts from his saxophone. And it really doesn't let up much until the end of the album's centerpiece "The Creator Has a Master Plan." There are a few really chaotic portions, but the majority of it is fairly melodic, and it's all incredibly exhilarating. The first time I listened to this I was about six minutes in when I realized it was the best jazz album I had ever heard. And I realized that one of my problems with jazz was that there just wasn't enough going on. Or rather, what I thought jazz was didn't have a lot going on. I didn't realize the possibilities that the genre could have, but this album made it all make sense. The sense of improvisation and freedom. Of never knowing where a song will go next. And a sense of real passion, of meaning. I know jazz was an important genre. It gave African Americans a way to express themselves and was a major contribution to American culture from a group of people who were, and still are, treated unfairly. It's a genre of innovation, fearlessness, and defiance. But I had just never heard that in the genre before. Jazz reminded me of stuffy hotel lobbies, not protests. And while this isn't a protest album - it's a worship album obviously - it sure as hell has the boldness and fearlessness that I had been looking for in the genre. And thankfully it led me to discover other similar forms of jazz, from Alice Coltrane (who was closely associated with Sanders) to Sons of Kemet, whose recent album was the jazz protest album I was looking for. So in a way this was a gateway for me. But it's also the standard bearer, the album I compare all other jazz albums I hear to.
Before I finish, I want to talk about "Colors" for a few minutes. I feel like "Colors" doesn't get its due. And I understand why: when you follow up a 30+ minute, two sides of an album spanning masterpiece you're bound to be overlooked by comparison. It's like that final scene in Psycho where some rando explains the plot, or that live track tacked on to the end of Dopesmoker that I never listen to. I get it. But it's still a beautiful song that includes a lot of the things that make the album's centerpiece great. And every great masterpiece needs a way to help you cool down. In that way "Colors" is the feeling of going on a ten mile run and spending the next five minutes catching your breath and considering your accomplishment. It's watching your favorite team make a comeback and spending the rest of the night basking in the victory. It's not the main attraction, but it's a way to hold onto that feeling for just a bit longer.
I don't like jazz. I don't mean that in a disdainful "jazz is meandering and artsy" way. I mean it in a sheepish "I've never been able to appreciate what jazz has to offer" way. Outside of learning sheet music so I could play the piano as a kid, I have no musical training or knowledge. I know nothing about music theory; I evaluate music purely on the way it makes me feel with no regard to how impressive or novel anything is. As such, a lot of classic jazz albums sound pleasant but make me feel almost nothing. People say great things about Kind of Blue, but I hear nothing interesting about it. It's forty minutes of elevator music. "It's about the notes they're not playing" they say. Well, then they should play those notes so I know what I'm missing.
Pharoah Sanders plays an awful lot of notes on this album. He starts right out of the gate, with some loud blasts from his saxophone. And it really doesn't let up much until the end of the album's centerpiece "The Creator Has a Master Plan." There are a few really chaotic portions, but the majority of it is fairly melodic, and it's all incredibly exhilarating. The first time I listened to this I was about six minutes in when I realized it was the best jazz album I had ever heard. And I realized that one of my problems with jazz was that there just wasn't enough going on. Or rather, what I thought jazz was didn't have a lot going on. I didn't realize the possibilities that the genre could have, but this album made it all make sense. The sense of improvisation and freedom. Of never knowing where a song will go next. And a sense of real passion, of meaning. I know jazz was an important genre. It gave African Americans a way to express themselves and was a major contribution to American culture from a group of people who were, and still are, treated unfairly. It's a genre of innovation, fearlessness, and defiance. But I had just never heard that in the genre before. Jazz reminded me of stuffy hotel lobbies, not protests. And while this isn't a protest album - it's a worship album obviously - it sure as hell has the boldness and fearlessness that I had been looking for in the genre. And thankfully it led me to discover other similar forms of jazz, from Alice Coltrane (who was closely associated with Sanders) to Sons of Kemet, whose recent album was the jazz protest album I was looking for. So in a way this was a gateway for me. But it's also the standard bearer, the album I compare all other jazz albums I hear to.
Before I finish, I want to talk about "Colors" for a few minutes. I feel like "Colors" doesn't get its due. And I understand why: when you follow up a 30+ minute, two sides of an album spanning masterpiece you're bound to be overlooked by comparison. It's like that final scene in Psycho where some rando explains the plot, or that live track tacked on to the end of Dopesmoker that I never listen to. I get it. But it's still a beautiful song that includes a lot of the things that make the album's centerpiece great. And every great masterpiece needs a way to help you cool down. In that way "Colors" is the feeling of going on a ten mile run and spending the next five minutes catching your breath and considering your accomplishment. It's watching your favorite team make a comeback and spending the rest of the night basking in the victory. It's not the main attraction, but it's a way to hold onto that feeling for just a bit longer.
Year of Release:
1969
Appears in:
Rank Score:
2,674
Rank in 1969:
Rank in 1960s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like sitting unsteadily on a barstool as the piano player warps up for evening, unsure if you'll be able to walk home
Need further proof that I'm a boring music fan? Well, my favorite Tom Waits album is Closing Time. Closing Time! Sure, picking Rain Dogs would be more boring from a popularity / generally accepted opinion perspective, but surely this is more boring from a music perspective. Let me assure you that this opinion isn't because I can't stand Waits's voice or that I haven't explored his discography; somehow, Waits was my most listened artist of the decade on Spotify despite me never listening to him until 2017. If Mule Variations was shorter or Swordfishtrombones was more consistent, one of them might sit here. But of all of Waits's iterations, I find his impression of piano player in a smoky bar the best. Why?
Well, it's partially the songs. Obvious standouts include "Ol 55" and "I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You," which a lot of people have probably heard (though maybe not performed by Waits). But the album is incredibly deep, with the jazzy "Grapefruit Moon" and country themed "Old Shoes (And Picture Postcards)" also being above average songs. In fact, the album has a fantastic hit-miss rate with the only miss being "Ice Cream Man" (yeesh). But it's not just that the album has great songs, it's that they all feel connected, like you could go to a bar and hear Waits run through the songs from start to finish. It really puts you in its world, and while Waits has played a lot of characters throughout his career none of them feel quite as authentic as this. It makes me wonder a bit how his debut album sounds the most mature, like it could have been written by a guy in his 60s who's full of regrets. I guess Waits is just that good at playing his characters.
But of all of the reasons I love this album, the biggest one is "Martha," which I haven't mentioned yet because it deserves its own paragraph. "Martha" is such a sublime song. How sublime? Once after listening to it I decided to make a list of "songs that if you don't like them I don't trust your opinions on music." It wasn't meant to be a list of my favorite songs; rather, it would be a list of songs that seemed so fundamentally good that anyone should like them, no matter your tastes. I went through a bunch of possible songs that I loved, and for all of them I could find a reason why someone wouldn't like the song. All metal, country, and hip hop is pretty much out because of various prejudices people have. Songs could be too loud, too slow, too repetitive, or too profane and turn someone off. In the end, I abandoned the list because "Martha" was the only song I could find that seemed universally un-hateable. I mean, listen to it. The way the piano jumps up an octave during the second half off the main melody. The way the choruses rise and swell but not so much so that it sounds like a climax, just a rising wave. The way you kind of know the narrator is going to confess his love but the way it hits you when he seems to stumble over his words: "Martha, ...Martha...I love you can't you see?" The way it starts a final verse but then just ends, as if the narrator was so overwhelmed he couldn't continue. "Martha" is not my favorite Tom Waits song, but it (and several other songs on this album) are so gripping, heartbreaking, and immediate that they stand up to even Waits's most adventurous material.
Need further proof that I'm a boring music fan? Well, my favorite Tom Waits album is Closing Time. Closing Time! Sure, picking Rain Dogs would be more boring from a popularity / generally accepted opinion perspective, but surely this is more boring from a music perspective. Let me assure you that this opinion isn't because I can't stand Waits's voice or that I haven't explored his discography; somehow, Waits was my most listened artist of the decade on Spotify despite me never listening to him until 2017. If Mule Variations was shorter or Swordfishtrombones was more consistent, one of them might sit here. But of all of Waits's iterations, I find his impression of piano player in a smoky bar the best. Why?
Well, it's partially the songs. Obvious standouts include "Ol 55" and "I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You," which a lot of people have probably heard (though maybe not performed by Waits). But the album is incredibly deep, with the jazzy "Grapefruit Moon" and country themed "Old Shoes (And Picture Postcards)" also being above average songs. In fact, the album has a fantastic hit-miss rate with the only miss being "Ice Cream Man" (yeesh). But it's not just that the album has great songs, it's that they all feel connected, like you could go to a bar and hear Waits run through the songs from start to finish. It really puts you in its world, and while Waits has played a lot of characters throughout his career none of them feel quite as authentic as this. It makes me wonder a bit how his debut album sounds the most mature, like it could have been written by a guy in his 60s who's full of regrets. I guess Waits is just that good at playing his characters.
But of all of the reasons I love this album, the biggest one is "Martha," which I haven't mentioned yet because it deserves its own paragraph. "Martha" is such a sublime song. How sublime? Once after listening to it I decided to make a list of "songs that if you don't like them I don't trust your opinions on music." It wasn't meant to be a list of my favorite songs; rather, it would be a list of songs that seemed so fundamentally good that anyone should like them, no matter your tastes. I went through a bunch of possible songs that I loved, and for all of them I could find a reason why someone wouldn't like the song. All metal, country, and hip hop is pretty much out because of various prejudices people have. Songs could be too loud, too slow, too repetitive, or too profane and turn someone off. In the end, I abandoned the list because "Martha" was the only song I could find that seemed universally un-hateable. I mean, listen to it. The way the piano jumps up an octave during the second half off the main melody. The way the choruses rise and swell but not so much so that it sounds like a climax, just a rising wave. The way you kind of know the narrator is going to confess his love but the way it hits you when he seems to stumble over his words: "Martha, ...Martha...I love you can't you see?" The way it starts a final verse but then just ends, as if the narrator was so overwhelmed he couldn't continue. "Martha" is not my favorite Tom Waits song, but it (and several other songs on this album) are so gripping, heartbreaking, and immediate that they stand up to even Waits's most adventurous material.
Year of Release:
1973
Appears in:
Rank Score:
3,482
Rank in 1973:
Rank in 1970s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking into a showing of the angriest version of Vagina Monologues you've ever seen
I never see Sleater-Kinney mentioned as being among the best punk bands of all time, which surprises me a bit considering the state punk was in during the 90s. Then again, Sleater-Kinney was never just a punk band, or a punk band at all on some albums. But in terms of ferocity and attitude, they rank right up there with the best of them. And the thing about their intensity is that it never felt fake. The Clash did not feel fake by any means, but a lot of time they felt a little bratty, like they were writing songs just to push people's buttons. The Dead Kennedys sounded like a riot, but their songs were so full of satire that it almost felt like you weren't supposed to take them seriously. But man, when Corin Tucker is yelling at you, you feel like you've done something bad and she's rightfully pissed off.
The other crazy thing about the intensity of this album is that it never feels overwhelming. This thing is full of pop hooks, from the slowed-down chant during the climax of "Turn it On" to the appropriately titled "Dance Song '97." It's loud, sure, but the main melodies are from dual guitars that weave in and out of each other, not from power chords getting drilled into your brain. Yet every time I hear any of these songs I want to shout along with them.
This is no one trick pony punk album either. There are traces of post-hardcore, hardcore punk, and even pop punk on some of the tracks. The biting "Heart Factory" fades smoothly into the poppiest track, "Words And Guitar," which features a much gentler chorus than most of the songs. But the highlight is definitely "Buy Her Candy," a melodic slow jam that makes you forget you're even listening to a punk album. [First added to this chart: 06/18/2014]
I never see Sleater-Kinney mentioned as being among the best punk bands of all time, which surprises me a bit considering the state punk was in during the 90s. Then again, Sleater-Kinney was never just a punk band, or a punk band at all on some albums. But in terms of ferocity and attitude, they rank right up there with the best of them. And the thing about their intensity is that it never felt fake. The Clash did not feel fake by any means, but a lot of time they felt a little bratty, like they were writing songs just to push people's buttons. The Dead Kennedys sounded like a riot, but their songs were so full of satire that it almost felt like you weren't supposed to take them seriously. But man, when Corin Tucker is yelling at you, you feel like you've done something bad and she's rightfully pissed off.
The other crazy thing about the intensity of this album is that it never feels overwhelming. This thing is full of pop hooks, from the slowed-down chant during the climax of "Turn it On" to the appropriately titled "Dance Song '97." It's loud, sure, but the main melodies are from dual guitars that weave in and out of each other, not from power chords getting drilled into your brain. Yet every time I hear any of these songs I want to shout along with them.
This is no one trick pony punk album either. There are traces of post-hardcore, hardcore punk, and even pop punk on some of the tracks. The biting "Heart Factory" fades smoothly into the poppiest track, "Words And Guitar," which features a much gentler chorus than most of the songs. But the highlight is definitely "Buy Her Candy," a melodic slow jam that makes you forget you're even listening to a punk album. [First added to this chart: 06/18/2014]
Year of Release:
1997
Appears in:
Rank Score:
1,587
Rank in 1997:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Like walking out of an intervention with a new sense of optimism
Given my shift of musical preferences over the past few years, it shouldn't be a surprise that Jason Isbell eventually grew on me. Like a lot of my favorite artists, his lyrics express a type of world-weary matter-of-fact-ness. But Isbell's method of songwriting is a lot different than Jason Molina's building blocks of imagery, Mark Kozelek's painfully literal storytelling, or Bill Callahan's nonchalant observations. On Southeastern he uses each song as a way to build a world, centered around a character who narrates the story. His worlds have an astounding amount of detail, amazing because he uses so few words to set the scene. His lyrical efficiency could allow him to cover a lot of ground and build complex stories, but instead he likes to focus on one central idea or event. But that one idea is so well fleshed-out that it gives the listener quite a lot to dwell on, not least of which is which of these songs are about him.
One more thing I love about Isbell's storytelling is how it's not focused on delivering a lesson or taking any kind of moral stance. Instead, he takes the role of an all-knowing but somewhat uncaring narrator, just telling things the way he observes them. My favorite song on the album might be "Yvette," which tells the story of a young boy who kills a girl's father after finding out he abuses her. One amazing thing about the song is that none of that information is actually in the song; instead, the story is told by the boy explaining how he sees the girl's distress, cleans and loads his gun, and tells her calmly "I saw your father last night...he won't hold you that way anymore, Yvette." But what I like even more is that Isbell doesn't really take a side in the story. He doesn't paint the father as getting what he deserved or the narrator as having handled things poorly. It's simple a story, and the moral is up to the listener. These kind of tough decisions are common in these songs, as characters deal with situations that seem to have no good solution. "Elephant" is probably the best example of this, as its narrator concludes that no one dies with dignity after seeing a good friend destroyed by cancer. Yet, in a moment of genius character-building, Isbell also makes this narrator consider his friend sexually, making the emotion more complicated and painting even our trusty narrator as flawed.
While a lot of these songs seem purely fictional, a lot of them feel more personal. Around the time the album was recorded Isbell got sober and met his now wife, which means a lot of these songs are filled with a kind of regretful contentedness. "Traveling Alone" and "Cover Me Up" are both beautiful love songs, though the former also sees the narrator reflecting on the bad things he's done. "Live Oak" explores this even further, and Isbell has said that he wrote the song specifically about getting sober. The narrator of "Live Oak" is a fugitive, and after confessing his past to his lover finds that she is enamored with it instead of terrified. But having shed that part of himself, he worries that she now only loves him for his past. So, he does the only reasonable thing he can do: kill her and move on. Joking of course...well only about the reasonable part. It's a heavy song, and in it you can hear Isbell's disquiet about whether the people in his life will still like or respect him if he changes his ways. But despite being heavy, the song is so beautiful. "Well I carved a cross from live oak and a box from short-leaf pine, and I buried her so deep she touched the water table line" is one of those lyrics I love in a way I can't explain; it's such a simple rhyme but somehow the imagery just really hits me. And the chorus - "There's a man who walks besides me who, it is who I used to be. And I wonder if she seems him and confuses him with me" - is worded so eloquently. Also, he shouts out Wisconsin in the first verse, so that's a plus as well.
There are other moments on this album that I can't believe I've gotten this far without mentioning. "The church bells are ringing for those who are easy to please" is a line that my cynical, cold, lonely heart loves to laugh at. "Relatively Easy" is a song that reminds me of my father and makes me tear up every time I hear it; if there's any song here that takes the "best song" crown from "Yvette" here it's that one. And the album isn't even completely humorless. The opening of "Songs She Sang in the Shower" is pretty funny, and "New South Wales" finds Isbell complaining about some shitty tequila and saying he'd be better off drinking Listerine. It's truly an album that contains multitudes, just like the worlds that Isbell builds inside these songs.
Given my shift of musical preferences over the past few years, it shouldn't be a surprise that Jason Isbell eventually grew on me. Like a lot of my favorite artists, his lyrics express a type of world-weary matter-of-fact-ness. But Isbell's method of songwriting is a lot different than Jason Molina's building blocks of imagery, Mark Kozelek's painfully literal storytelling, or Bill Callahan's nonchalant observations. On Southeastern he uses each song as a way to build a world, centered around a character who narrates the story. His worlds have an astounding amount of detail, amazing because he uses so few words to set the scene. His lyrical efficiency could allow him to cover a lot of ground and build complex stories, but instead he likes to focus on one central idea or event. But that one idea is so well fleshed-out that it gives the listener quite a lot to dwell on, not least of which is which of these songs are about him.
One more thing I love about Isbell's storytelling is how it's not focused on delivering a lesson or taking any kind of moral stance. Instead, he takes the role of an all-knowing but somewhat uncaring narrator, just telling things the way he observes them. My favorite song on the album might be "Yvette," which tells the story of a young boy who kills a girl's father after finding out he abuses her. One amazing thing about the song is that none of that information is actually in the song; instead, the story is told by the boy explaining how he sees the girl's distress, cleans and loads his gun, and tells her calmly "I saw your father last night...he won't hold you that way anymore, Yvette." But what I like even more is that Isbell doesn't really take a side in the story. He doesn't paint the father as getting what he deserved or the narrator as having handled things poorly. It's simple a story, and the moral is up to the listener. These kind of tough decisions are common in these songs, as characters deal with situations that seem to have no good solution. "Elephant" is probably the best example of this, as its narrator concludes that no one dies with dignity after seeing a good friend destroyed by cancer. Yet, in a moment of genius character-building, Isbell also makes this narrator consider his friend sexually, making the emotion more complicated and painting even our trusty narrator as flawed.
While a lot of these songs seem purely fictional, a lot of them feel more personal. Around the time the album was recorded Isbell got sober and met his now wife, which means a lot of these songs are filled with a kind of regretful contentedness. "Traveling Alone" and "Cover Me Up" are both beautiful love songs, though the former also sees the narrator reflecting on the bad things he's done. "Live Oak" explores this even further, and Isbell has said that he wrote the song specifically about getting sober. The narrator of "Live Oak" is a fugitive, and after confessing his past to his lover finds that she is enamored with it instead of terrified. But having shed that part of himself, he worries that she now only loves him for his past. So, he does the only reasonable thing he can do: kill her and move on. Joking of course...well only about the reasonable part. It's a heavy song, and in it you can hear Isbell's disquiet about whether the people in his life will still like or respect him if he changes his ways. But despite being heavy, the song is so beautiful. "Well I carved a cross from live oak and a box from short-leaf pine, and I buried her so deep she touched the water table line" is one of those lyrics I love in a way I can't explain; it's such a simple rhyme but somehow the imagery just really hits me. And the chorus - "There's a man who walks besides me who, it is who I used to be. And I wonder if she seems him and confuses him with me" - is worded so eloquently. Also, he shouts out Wisconsin in the first verse, so that's a plus as well.
There are other moments on this album that I can't believe I've gotten this far without mentioning. "The church bells are ringing for those who are easy to please" is a line that my cynical, cold, lonely heart loves to laugh at. "Relatively Easy" is a song that reminds me of my father and makes me tear up every time I hear it; if there's any song here that takes the "best song" crown from "Yvette" here it's that one. And the album isn't even completely humorless. The opening of "Songs She Sang in the Shower" is pretty funny, and "New South Wales" finds Isbell complaining about some shitty tequila and saying he'd be better off drinking Listerine. It's truly an album that contains multitudes, just like the worlds that Isbell builds inside these songs.
Year of Release:
2013
Appears in:
Rank Score:
1,470
Rank in 2013:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Total albums: 100. Page 9 of 10
Don't agree with this chart? Create your own from the My Charts page!
Top 100 Greatest Music Albums composition
| Decade | Albums | % | |
|---|---|---|---|
 |
 |
|
|
| 1930s | 0 | 0% | |
| 1940s | 0 | 0% | |
| 1950s | 0 | 0% | |
| 1960s | 4 | 4% | |
| 1970s | 9 | 9% | |
| 1980s | 8 | 8% | |
| 1990s | 23 | 23% | |
| 2000s | 28 | 28% | |
| 2010s | 28 | 28% | |
| 2020s | 0 | 0% |
| Artist | Albums | % | |
|---|---|---|---|
|
|
 |
|
|
| Modest Mouse | 3 | 3% | |
| Kanye West | 2 | 2% | |
| Songs: Ohia | 2 | 2% | |
| Sufjan Stevens | 2 | 2% | |
| Kendrick Lamar | 2 | 2% | |
| Nas | 1 | 1% | |
| The Hold Steady | 1 | 1% | |
| Show all | |||
Top 100 Greatest Music Albums chart changes
| Biggest climbers |
|---|
| Up 44 from 79th to 35th E•MO•TION by Carly Rae Jepsen |
| Up 35 from 45th to 10th Songs About Leaving by Carissa's Wierd |
| Up 29 from 76th to 47th The Glow Pt. 2 by The Microphones |
| Biggest fallers |
|---|
| Down 32 from 57th to 89th Dig Me Out by Sleater-Kinney |
| Down 29 from 26th to 55th The Suburbs by Arcade Fire |
| Down 29 from 52nd to 81st Crack The Skye by Mastodon |
Top 100 Greatest Music Albums similar charts
- Favorite Album Covers by babyBlueSedan (2018)
- Top 100 Music Albums of the 2000s by babyBlueSedan (2021)
- Top 100 Music Albums of the 2010s by babyBlueSedan (2021)
- Top 100 Greatest Music Albums by bkogz (2021)
- Top 100 Greatest Music Albums by blackflag29 (2019)
- Top 100 Greatest Music Albums by
Mattdup279 (2020) - Top 100 Greatest Music Albums by
pjohnsongolf (2023) - Top 100 Music Albums of the 1990s by babyBlueSedan (2021)
- Top 100 Greatest Music Albums by gravityrider999 (2019)
- BEA Forum Regulars' Top 100 (2015) by
HigherThanTheSun (2015)
Top 100 Greatest Music Albums similarity to your chart(s)
Not a member? Registering is quick, easy and FREE!
Why register?
Join a passionate community of over 50,000 music fans.- Create & share your own charts.
- Have your say in the overall rankings.
- Post comments in the forums and vote on polls.
- Comment on or rate any album, artist, track or chart.
- Discover new music & improve your music collection.
- Customise the overall chart using a variety of different filters & metrics.
- Create a wishlist of albums.
- Help maintain the BEA database.
- Earn member points and gain access to increasing levels of functionality!
- ... And lots more!
Register now - it only takes a moment!
Top 100 Greatest Music Albums ratings
94/100 (from 149 votes)
where:
av = trimmed mean average rating an item has currently received.
n = number of ratings an item has currently received.
m = minimum number of ratings required for an item to appear in a 'top-rated' chart (currently 10).
AV = the site mean average rating.
Showing latest 5 ratings for this chart. | Show all 149 ratings for this chart.
| Rating | Date updated | Member | Chart ratings | Avg. chart rating |
|---|---|---|---|---|
90/100  | 01/16/2023 22:04 | Johnnyo | | 80/100 |
90/100 | 05/21/2022 09:11 |  Timestarter | | 90/100 |
 100/100 | 09/11/2021 15:03 |  AvalancheGrips | | 89/100 |
95/100 | 08/31/2021 21:02 | leniad | | 85/100 |
100/100 | 04/28/2021 09:45 |  DriftingOrpheus | | 91/100 |
Rating metrics:
Outliers can be removed when calculating a mean average to dampen the effects of ratings outside the normal distribution. This figure is provided as the trimmed mean. A high standard deviation can be legitimate, but can sometimes indicate 'gaming' is occurring. Consider a simplified example* of an item receiving ratings of 100, 50, & 0. The mean average rating would be 50. However, ratings of 55, 50 & 45 could also result in the same average. The second average might be more trusted because there is more consensus around a particular rating (a lower deviation).
(*In practice, some charts can have several thousand ratings)
This chart is rated in the top 1% of all charts on BestEverAlbums.com. This chart has a Bayesian average rating of 93.6/100, a mean average of 93.5/100, and a trimmed mean (excluding outliers) of 94.1/100. The standard deviation for this chart is 7.6.
Please log in or register if you want to be able to leave a rating
Top 100 Greatest Music Albums favourites
Showing latest 20 members who have added this chart as a favourite | Show all 43 members
Top 100 Greatest Music Albums comments
Showing latest 10 comments | Show all 98 comments |
Most Helpful First | Newest First | Maximum Rated First |
Longest Comments First
(Only showing comments with -2 votes or higher. You can alter this threshold from your profile page. Manage Profile)
90/100
From Johnnyo 01/16/2023 22:05
Great chart and the work that has gone into each entry. Wow! Brilliant stuff
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | 0 votes (0 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
95/100
From leniad 08/31/2021 21:02
good writing and good taste
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | 0 votes (0 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
From weyesgroove 09/29/2020 16:32
cool chart man. love the descriptions.
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | 0 votes (0 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
100/100
From 
Keatownrodriguez 10/28/2019 21:19
Keatownrodriguez 10/28/2019 21:19
Any chart with this much time put into it is so cool to me
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | +1 votes (1 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
95/100
From pctrooper 10/04/2019 19:23
These notes are so detailed and helpful for advocating your choices. You must really know how to listen to music and listen to it hard. Great albums, too.
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | +1 votes (1 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
100/100
From eharrell 07/24/2019 00:02
Best Chart ever
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | +1 votes (1 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
100/100
From tk421ucopy 07/23/2019 19:24
incredible. you have a different taste in music, but wow these descriptions are prime
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | +1 votes (1 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
100/100
From 
DommeDamian 07/23/2019 12:00
DommeDamian 07/23/2019 12:00
Is there a limit of how much inspiration, this chart can give?
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | 0 votes (0 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
100/100
From xXhermitXx 10/18/2018 04:05
Holy crap what a chart, have a bunch in common with me and a whole list of new ones to check out, i also loved your descriptions.
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | +2 votes (2 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
100/100
From 
jdenny2018 10/18/2018 01:19
jdenny2018 10/18/2018 01:19
This is one of the most amazing things I've ever read
Helpful? (Log in to vote) | +2 votes (2 helpful | 0 unhelpful)
Please log in or register if you want to be able to add a comment
Your feedback for Top 100 Greatest Music Albums
Let us know what you think of this chart by adding a comment or assigning a rating below!
If you enjoy our site, please consider supporting us by sparing a few seconds to disable your ad blocker.
A lot of hard work happens in the background to keep BEA running, and it's especially difficult to do this when we can't pay our hosting fees :(
We work very hard to ensure our site is as fast (and FREE!) as possible, and we respect your privacy.
A lot of hard work happens in the background to keep BEA running, and it's especially difficult to do this when we can't pay our hosting fees :(
We work very hard to ensure our site is as fast (and FREE!) as possible, and we respect your privacy.
| Best Ever Artists | |
|---|---|
| 1. The Beatles | |
| 2. Radiohead | |
| 3. Pink Floyd | |
| 4. David Bowie | |
| 5. Bob Dylan | |
| 6. Led Zeppelin | |
| 7. The Rolling Stones | |
| 8. Arcade Fire | |
| 9. The Velvet Underground | |
| 10. Kendrick Lamar | |
| 11. Nirvana | |
| 12. Neil Young | |
| 13. The Smiths | |
| 14. Miles Davis | |
| 15. The Beach Boys | |
| 16. Kanye West | |
| 17. Pixies | |
| 18. R.E.M. | |
| 19. Jimi Hendrix | |
| 20. Bruce Springsteen |