Top 92 Music Albums of the 1990s by 
DriftingOrpheus 
- Chart updated: 02/26/2025 10:45
- (Created: 04/03/2020 23:46).
- Chart size: 92 albums.
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In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is often a simple album, filled with simple chord progressions and hooks. It's fuzzed out production creates the illusion that it was recorded in a damp basement, waterlogged after a thunderstorm and packed to the brim with insulation subbing for soundproofing. These are all misconceptions, most of all the simplicity. Jeff Mangum subverts the idea of simplicity with his rollicking, depressing, life-affirming piece of indie rock. His lyricism cuts through the haze of intentionally wooly production illustrating an observation of both the beauty of ordinary life and the daunting nature of philosophical thought.
The album's crown jewel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, layers striking metaphorical proclamations in rapid succession, partnering that with dizzying singing saw, creating an indie masterpiece confined within an alien biodome. Communist Daughter eases down the tempo but not the whimsy, as it oozes beauty almost in a whisper as it flutters into Oh Comely. The album closes with the hauntingly reflective Two Headed Boy, Pt. 2 as it whirrs into Mangum’s words. He declares, "God is a place where some holy spectacle lies", endlessly waiting for divine intervention, even if he questions its existence in a world that can be so cold.
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, is partly a horror story of the Nazi Regime, a love letter to the courage of Anne Frank, but mostly its an examination of life's smallest moments and whether it's worth going forward or not. Whatever it is to you, however, is likely the most fitting description. Mangum’s poetry on the LP is indicative of a higher consciousness and it's partnered with a cornucopia of musical ingenuity to form one of the finest, most earnest albums ever pressed.
"Now how I remember you,
How I would push my fingers through,
Your mouth to make those muscles move,
That made your voice so smooth and sweet."
-In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Standout Tracks:
1. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
2. Two Headed Boy, Pt. 2
3. Oh Comely
100.8 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
The album's crown jewel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, layers striking metaphorical proclamations in rapid succession, partnering that with dizzying singing saw, creating an indie masterpiece confined within an alien biodome. Communist Daughter eases down the tempo but not the whimsy, as it oozes beauty almost in a whisper as it flutters into Oh Comely. The album closes with the hauntingly reflective Two Headed Boy, Pt. 2 as it whirrs into Mangum’s words. He declares, "God is a place where some holy spectacle lies", endlessly waiting for divine intervention, even if he questions its existence in a world that can be so cold.
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, is partly a horror story of the Nazi Regime, a love letter to the courage of Anne Frank, but mostly its an examination of life's smallest moments and whether it's worth going forward or not. Whatever it is to you, however, is likely the most fitting description. Mangum’s poetry on the LP is indicative of a higher consciousness and it's partnered with a cornucopia of musical ingenuity to form one of the finest, most earnest albums ever pressed.
"Now how I remember you,
How I would push my fingers through,
Your mouth to make those muscles move,
That made your voice so smooth and sweet."
-In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Standout Tracks:
1. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
2. Two Headed Boy, Pt. 2
3. Oh Comely
100.8 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
1998
Appears in:
Rank Score:
35,394
Rank in 1998:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
428
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On December 28th, 1998, enigmatic frontman Shinji Sato gazed upon a vigilant crowd gathered lovingly at the Akasaka Blitz in Minato, Tokyo. It was here that his band, Fishmans, was prepared to bid adieu to their bassist, Yuzuru Kashiwabara, who was set upon leaving the group. Little did anyone know, the amount of finality and reverence this performance would carry would forever bathe the band in a balmy luster of posthumous praise. As the first reverberations of guitar are heard, a docility seems to rain over the multitude, almost entranced in a spiritual, reverent manner. Such things happen without warning, yet, when they do, they have the tendency to stifle the passing of time and render the present moment motionless. What happened on that December evening in Tokyo is exalted for the transcendent-nature of the musicality and Sato's passing in the months that would follow. What many don't perceive, is that it wasn't just Sato's passage that galvanized those proceedings. Every single soul on stage and in attendance would take part in the ascension to a higher state of musical consciousness, now permanent, invisible residents of both the Akasaka Blitz and another heavenly dimension.
Sato and company begin with the pleasantries and with 'Oh! Slime', which bestows respective introductions to each of the band's players. This preamble progressively evolves from a spacey, serene whirring into a bouncy declaration of jubilee. It's clear that the forthcoming ceremony isn't going to be colored by solemnity, despite it being Kashiwabara's swan song. The chants of "Are you feel good?" further blur the collective reality and affix the qualities of a fragmented dream. The band slips back into serenity with the arrival of their legendary cut, 'ナイトクルージング (Night Cruising)'. This 'Night Cruise' is more tranquil than its studio album doppelganger, exercising more force and dramatic heft. Sato's presence seems to emanate like vapor through the bright, twinkly guitar chords. The track unfurls at a measured tempo, conjuring images of summer-swept, evening car rides with the windows at half mast. Distorted guitar clangs charge into Sato's banshee wail which fuels the burgeoning sense of grandiosity as the track fades from view. Next in queue, is a revisitation of the band's sophomore effort, 1992's King Master George. The cosmic, percussive 'なんてったの (What Was It)', materializes in a form seemingly untethered and which could fly away at a moment's notice. It's Honzi's work at the keys that colors and elevates the track, as her exploits attach a perceptible sense of melancholy to the song. The bittersweet sensations persist as Fishmans slip into 'Thank You', a explicit championing of life and an unbridled expression of gratitude for its peaks and valleys. The track's somber essence is one of hindsight, as Sato's screeches of life pre-date the ending of his own just months thereafter. It, at times, seems like a conscious goodbye, adding to the mystical gravitas of the band's live farewell.
The band ceases to drag their feet as they decide to live within the present with 'Shiawase-mono (A Happy Person)', a bassy, simmering concoction of placid guitar tones which are ushered away gracefully by Honzi's egressing, endearing keys. The pace lounges more evidently with 'Tayorinai Tenshi (Unreliable Angel)', which shimmers like a calm before a storm, despite its aesthetic allure. Carrying distinct reggae and ska sheens, Fishmans re-enliven their dub roots with pastoral, matured sensibilities. The velocity does resurface, however, the piquancy remains with 'Hikōki (ひこうき; Airplane)', a noticeably more rosy affair fit with phosphorescent guitar and jovial vocals. The infectious guitar solo marks a triumphant break within the track, providing a raucous, screeching wall which firmly divides the two melodic sections. After a brief exchange, the mood swells, the crowd loosens and the stage at the Blitz is now shrouded. The band recrudesces with a signature composition, 'In the Flight', off of 1997's 'Uchū Nippon Setagaya (Space Japan Setagaya)'. The track is rife with gradual escalation, with a dream pop alpha flowing into a brief but elastic, omega. Often cooing as gently as a dove, Sato's vocals on the track are befittingly avian, fragile and susceptible to a soft breeze. Honzi's violin passage weeps softly and elegantly acting as the perfect placeholder and compliment to Sato's own delicate offerings. An arresting symbiotic relationship carries 'In the Flight' into the ether. With a pivot from one legacy-defining track to another, 'Walking in the Rhythm' manifests. This 'Rhythm' is not as melodramatic as it dutifully chugs along before cascading overtop of itself with an assortment of varying guitar sections. The eponymous chants have never sounded so weighty as the track spirals into a cosmic cauldron of intergalactic synth and dueling guitar before crescendoing with labored exaltations from all parties. It's an incredible, stream-of-consciousness adaptation of the band's original masterpiece.
Another trans-dimensional odyssey takes place with the subsequent, 'Smilin' Days, Summer Holiday'. This voyage is powered by guitars that swirl and circulate like maelstroms, but without carrying a semblance of menace or ill-will. They gleam brightly from portion to portion as a cluster of voices flow out, tucked in snugly beneath the ever-advancing strings. After a particularly upbeat, punchy rendition of 'Melody' off of 1994's 'Orange', the stage darkens once more and the disposition becomes one of voiceless consideration. Fishmans begin to perform 'Yurameki in the Air (Flickering in the Air)', a composition that brandishes the same genetic makeup of slow-developing staples such as 'Night Cruising' and 'In the Flight', but stretched out to infinity. It's here that they return to music so gauzy and ethereal that, if you adjust your gaze or shift too brashly, it may flee from view, like innocent fauna of the forest. This intimate mind-meld between artist and audience for 16 unbroken minutes is pure bliss. Penultimate effort, "Ikareta Baby (いかれた Baby; Crazy Baby)", uncoils in a very disparate fashion than its studio counterpart. Here, the piece prefers to wander amidst the expanded acoustics of the Blitz and ride a persistent tempo into the final act of Fishmans' final hour.
So, Fishmans and Shinji Sato offered their parting gift to the world and it began with a cosmic whirl which bleeds into the unforgettable keyboard centerpiece. 'Long Season' was now in full swing, and experiencing it in its fully-realized form makes it easy to forget that the project was once a microscopic idea. This idea continued to propagate from the original six-minute version to the now towering, 41-minute monolith of musical perfection. Albeit tragic, it seems utterly apt that this composition would be the last thing the first iteration of the band would perform. Sato's guitar solo creates the proverbial shriek of a imploding star, a ball of gas which burns so bright that it collapses in on itself by way of its own brilliance. This final 'season' is one which seemingly endures the changing of the leaves, the shifting of tectonic plates and causes the earth, for a brief moment, to cease its rotation and stand still.
The Akasaka Blitz was closed in 2020, now a musical tomb, further painting a picture of a night more reminiscent of a mirage than a historical event. Its memory remains eternally imprinted upon the site and in the hearts and minds of those who witnessed this performance. Until recently, few outside Japan knew of the majesty Fishmans could conjure, but their creative tree fell in the woods in December 1998. Few heard it's alluring reverberation then, but now, finally, all can take part in its auditory luster. You see, as the tree collided with the Earth below, its descent and demise fertilized a beautiful garden which blooms more vividly each day and remains an idyllic place to sit, listen and ponder the radiance of life itself.
"I hope you don't fade away today"
- ゆらめき in the Air
Standout Tracks:
1. Long Season
2. ゆらめき in the Air
3. ナイトクルージング
100.7 [First added to this chart: 02/23/2022]
Sato and company begin with the pleasantries and with 'Oh! Slime', which bestows respective introductions to each of the band's players. This preamble progressively evolves from a spacey, serene whirring into a bouncy declaration of jubilee. It's clear that the forthcoming ceremony isn't going to be colored by solemnity, despite it being Kashiwabara's swan song. The chants of "Are you feel good?" further blur the collective reality and affix the qualities of a fragmented dream. The band slips back into serenity with the arrival of their legendary cut, 'ナイトクルージング (Night Cruising)'. This 'Night Cruise' is more tranquil than its studio album doppelganger, exercising more force and dramatic heft. Sato's presence seems to emanate like vapor through the bright, twinkly guitar chords. The track unfurls at a measured tempo, conjuring images of summer-swept, evening car rides with the windows at half mast. Distorted guitar clangs charge into Sato's banshee wail which fuels the burgeoning sense of grandiosity as the track fades from view. Next in queue, is a revisitation of the band's sophomore effort, 1992's King Master George. The cosmic, percussive 'なんてったの (What Was It)', materializes in a form seemingly untethered and which could fly away at a moment's notice. It's Honzi's work at the keys that colors and elevates the track, as her exploits attach a perceptible sense of melancholy to the song. The bittersweet sensations persist as Fishmans slip into 'Thank You', a explicit championing of life and an unbridled expression of gratitude for its peaks and valleys. The track's somber essence is one of hindsight, as Sato's screeches of life pre-date the ending of his own just months thereafter. It, at times, seems like a conscious goodbye, adding to the mystical gravitas of the band's live farewell.
The band ceases to drag their feet as they decide to live within the present with 'Shiawase-mono (A Happy Person)', a bassy, simmering concoction of placid guitar tones which are ushered away gracefully by Honzi's egressing, endearing keys. The pace lounges more evidently with 'Tayorinai Tenshi (Unreliable Angel)', which shimmers like a calm before a storm, despite its aesthetic allure. Carrying distinct reggae and ska sheens, Fishmans re-enliven their dub roots with pastoral, matured sensibilities. The velocity does resurface, however, the piquancy remains with 'Hikōki (ひこうき; Airplane)', a noticeably more rosy affair fit with phosphorescent guitar and jovial vocals. The infectious guitar solo marks a triumphant break within the track, providing a raucous, screeching wall which firmly divides the two melodic sections. After a brief exchange, the mood swells, the crowd loosens and the stage at the Blitz is now shrouded. The band recrudesces with a signature composition, 'In the Flight', off of 1997's 'Uchū Nippon Setagaya (Space Japan Setagaya)'. The track is rife with gradual escalation, with a dream pop alpha flowing into a brief but elastic, omega. Often cooing as gently as a dove, Sato's vocals on the track are befittingly avian, fragile and susceptible to a soft breeze. Honzi's violin passage weeps softly and elegantly acting as the perfect placeholder and compliment to Sato's own delicate offerings. An arresting symbiotic relationship carries 'In the Flight' into the ether. With a pivot from one legacy-defining track to another, 'Walking in the Rhythm' manifests. This 'Rhythm' is not as melodramatic as it dutifully chugs along before cascading overtop of itself with an assortment of varying guitar sections. The eponymous chants have never sounded so weighty as the track spirals into a cosmic cauldron of intergalactic synth and dueling guitar before crescendoing with labored exaltations from all parties. It's an incredible, stream-of-consciousness adaptation of the band's original masterpiece.
Another trans-dimensional odyssey takes place with the subsequent, 'Smilin' Days, Summer Holiday'. This voyage is powered by guitars that swirl and circulate like maelstroms, but without carrying a semblance of menace or ill-will. They gleam brightly from portion to portion as a cluster of voices flow out, tucked in snugly beneath the ever-advancing strings. After a particularly upbeat, punchy rendition of 'Melody' off of 1994's 'Orange', the stage darkens once more and the disposition becomes one of voiceless consideration. Fishmans begin to perform 'Yurameki in the Air (Flickering in the Air)', a composition that brandishes the same genetic makeup of slow-developing staples such as 'Night Cruising' and 'In the Flight', but stretched out to infinity. It's here that they return to music so gauzy and ethereal that, if you adjust your gaze or shift too brashly, it may flee from view, like innocent fauna of the forest. This intimate mind-meld between artist and audience for 16 unbroken minutes is pure bliss. Penultimate effort, "Ikareta Baby (いかれた Baby; Crazy Baby)", uncoils in a very disparate fashion than its studio counterpart. Here, the piece prefers to wander amidst the expanded acoustics of the Blitz and ride a persistent tempo into the final act of Fishmans' final hour.
So, Fishmans and Shinji Sato offered their parting gift to the world and it began with a cosmic whirl which bleeds into the unforgettable keyboard centerpiece. 'Long Season' was now in full swing, and experiencing it in its fully-realized form makes it easy to forget that the project was once a microscopic idea. This idea continued to propagate from the original six-minute version to the now towering, 41-minute monolith of musical perfection. Albeit tragic, it seems utterly apt that this composition would be the last thing the first iteration of the band would perform. Sato's guitar solo creates the proverbial shriek of a imploding star, a ball of gas which burns so bright that it collapses in on itself by way of its own brilliance. This final 'season' is one which seemingly endures the changing of the leaves, the shifting of tectonic plates and causes the earth, for a brief moment, to cease its rotation and stand still.
The Akasaka Blitz was closed in 2020, now a musical tomb, further painting a picture of a night more reminiscent of a mirage than a historical event. Its memory remains eternally imprinted upon the site and in the hearts and minds of those who witnessed this performance. Until recently, few outside Japan knew of the majesty Fishmans could conjure, but their creative tree fell in the woods in December 1998. Few heard it's alluring reverberation then, but now, finally, all can take part in its auditory luster. You see, as the tree collided with the Earth below, its descent and demise fertilized a beautiful garden which blooms more vividly each day and remains an idyllic place to sit, listen and ponder the radiance of life itself.
"I hope you don't fade away today"
- ゆらめき in the Air
Standout Tracks:
1. Long Season
2. ゆらめき in the Air
3. ナイトクルージング
100.7 [First added to this chart: 02/23/2022]
Year of Release:
1999
Appears in:
Rank Score:
5,212
Rank in 1999:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
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Acid Bath were an outfit from the swamps of Louisiana, likely the only place where music of this ilk could be spawned. The sludge metal group only produced two studio albums with a lifespan abridged by the sudden death of bassist Audie Pitre. The introduction to their brief discography is nothing less than a masterwork in the metal genre, an album of intense hate coupled with stunning musical proficiency that many have overlooked, or more likely, have never experienced. The guitar work is polarizing, often resembling a slithering eel bathing in distortion and feedback. Honestly, what else could suffice for a record that brandishes track titles such as "Cassie Eats Cockroaches", "Dr. Seuss is Dead" and the penultimate "The Bones of Baby Dolls". As horn-rimmed glasses wearing, toffee-nosed onlookers may categorize its content as a slobbering collection of shock rock, the truth is far more personal.
Lead vocalist Dax Riggs likens tracks Tranquilized and Cheap Vodka to drug-triggered, personal anecdotes. The bluesy restraint of Scream of the Butterfly harkens back to the regret of an abortion and the distinctive sound of the woman's grief over said act. Toubabo Koomi is cajun french for Land of the White Cannibals and takes aim at the savagery of the governmental system. Finally, The Bones of Baby Dolls details the unvarnished evil of a child molester. All in all, When the Kite String Pops is not for the faint of heart.
With John Wayne Gacy plastered on the cover, few would gaze upon the album and foresee the intense, brilliant musicianship buried within the catacombs of this striking record. This is partly the appeal. Sometimes it seems like this is something we shouldn't be listening to, like a suicide caught on tape. The dichotomy of the vulgarity and poetry on the album makes it the best kind of rarity. It's a shame that it will likely be restricted to residing in dusty attics, at the bottom of garage sale bins and quiet corners of failing record shops. Listening to When the Kite String Pops is the musical equivalent of watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974). A brilliant film no doubt, but one of immense depravity. When the Kite String Pops makes you want to shower once it's over, but you are helpless to the notion of starting it all over again, bathing in its magnificent grime.
"I feel the wetness of her tongue that slides across my skin
The viruses crawl over me and feel for some way in."
-Cassie Eats Cockroaches
Standout Tracks:
1. The Bones of Baby Dolls
2. The Blue
3. Dr. Seuss is Dead
98.4 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Lead vocalist Dax Riggs likens tracks Tranquilized and Cheap Vodka to drug-triggered, personal anecdotes. The bluesy restraint of Scream of the Butterfly harkens back to the regret of an abortion and the distinctive sound of the woman's grief over said act. Toubabo Koomi is cajun french for Land of the White Cannibals and takes aim at the savagery of the governmental system. Finally, The Bones of Baby Dolls details the unvarnished evil of a child molester. All in all, When the Kite String Pops is not for the faint of heart.
With John Wayne Gacy plastered on the cover, few would gaze upon the album and foresee the intense, brilliant musicianship buried within the catacombs of this striking record. This is partly the appeal. Sometimes it seems like this is something we shouldn't be listening to, like a suicide caught on tape. The dichotomy of the vulgarity and poetry on the album makes it the best kind of rarity. It's a shame that it will likely be restricted to residing in dusty attics, at the bottom of garage sale bins and quiet corners of failing record shops. Listening to When the Kite String Pops is the musical equivalent of watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974). A brilliant film no doubt, but one of immense depravity. When the Kite String Pops makes you want to shower once it's over, but you are helpless to the notion of starting it all over again, bathing in its magnificent grime.
"I feel the wetness of her tongue that slides across my skin
The viruses crawl over me and feel for some way in."
-Cassie Eats Cockroaches
Standout Tracks:
1. The Bones of Baby Dolls
2. The Blue
3. Dr. Seuss is Dead
98.4 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
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Where is the appropriate point of origin? How does one begin eloquently without bellowing out praise like a music-snobbed elitist hell-bent on hard-headedness of musical appreciation. OK Computer's coronation may send shivers down the spines of readers who watch it litter charts all across the platform, a sentiment felt by frontman Thom Yorke, who tries to downplay the record's place in music history in an effort of self-conscious humility. Never one to be put in a creative box, Yorke refuses to be defined by one album and he's surely not. This list is not one of objective knighting, but rather a reflection of the records that reside the deepest in my heart, regardless if many minds consider this to be the greatest album ever constructed. To this point, this listener wouldn't argue, but still, in the context of this chart, such clearly-defined praise would only cheapen the work. In most instances, I derive satisfaction from dissecting each of my favorite albums down to the bone marrow and the negative space between each line of prose. However, OK Computer escapes classification and remains without a need for any sort of justification. The record declares more than any aficionado could hope to. In many ways, OK Computer warns against the monotony of modern times and times to come, but still the album comes home every night, reliable as ever.
Plastered upon its face, an illustration of intersecting pavement in Hartford, Connecticut, far from the homes of the boys who formed in Abingdon, Oxfordshire. For many, OK Computer is a road map, a canal en route to lovely musical landmarks that both influenced and took inspiration from the seminal album. For me, it's not OK Computer's futuristic motifs, slick guitar lines or harmonic prowess that take the cake. It's the intangible wonder of an album so meticulously crafted to the note and the product of a quintet so acutely dialed in to the very limit of human feasibility. The emotional response that wells up from within during each and every listening experience is paramount and the philosophical resonances never cease to astonish. In an age where resistance to a popular opinion is so prevalent, I'd have every reason in the world to dismiss OK Computer, to liken its listeners to a brand of entry-level beginners to the world of critically acclaimed music, and yet, the album dazzles each and every time. It's adorned in a luster than cannot be eroded by the years or a position on a slapdash, 'Buzzfeed' hot-take list. Despite its warnings that ring truer by the day, the album no longer "stands" for anything and concurrently "represents" nothing. Some like to erroneously place it within a gift-wrapped package labeled "1990's time capsule". They fail to realize that the album belongs to no period of history as its resonance would be seismic during any era. It isn't the champion of any aristocratic sub-culture, as masses of people from all walks of life can be heard singing Karma Police's chorus in physical and spiritual unison. OK Computer is native only to the air it occupies and to the millions it continually enchants. It sounds just as alien today as it did in 1997 while simultaneously swelling, softening and transmitting from some distant, undiscovered galaxy.
"This is my final fit, my final bellyache. With no alarms and no surprises..."
- No Surprises
Standout Tracks:
1. No Surprises
2. Let Down
3. Paranoid Android
98.92 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Plastered upon its face, an illustration of intersecting pavement in Hartford, Connecticut, far from the homes of the boys who formed in Abingdon, Oxfordshire. For many, OK Computer is a road map, a canal en route to lovely musical landmarks that both influenced and took inspiration from the seminal album. For me, it's not OK Computer's futuristic motifs, slick guitar lines or harmonic prowess that take the cake. It's the intangible wonder of an album so meticulously crafted to the note and the product of a quintet so acutely dialed in to the very limit of human feasibility. The emotional response that wells up from within during each and every listening experience is paramount and the philosophical resonances never cease to astonish. In an age where resistance to a popular opinion is so prevalent, I'd have every reason in the world to dismiss OK Computer, to liken its listeners to a brand of entry-level beginners to the world of critically acclaimed music, and yet, the album dazzles each and every time. It's adorned in a luster than cannot be eroded by the years or a position on a slapdash, 'Buzzfeed' hot-take list. Despite its warnings that ring truer by the day, the album no longer "stands" for anything and concurrently "represents" nothing. Some like to erroneously place it within a gift-wrapped package labeled "1990's time capsule". They fail to realize that the album belongs to no period of history as its resonance would be seismic during any era. It isn't the champion of any aristocratic sub-culture, as masses of people from all walks of life can be heard singing Karma Police's chorus in physical and spiritual unison. OK Computer is native only to the air it occupies and to the millions it continually enchants. It sounds just as alien today as it did in 1997 while simultaneously swelling, softening and transmitting from some distant, undiscovered galaxy.
"This is my final fit, my final bellyache. With no alarms and no surprises..."
- No Surprises
Standout Tracks:
1. No Surprises
2. Let Down
3. Paranoid Android
98.92 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
1997
Appears in:
Rank Score:
68,296
Rank in 1997:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
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Radiohead were an entirely different beast in 1995. Long before they were gray-bearded and critically adored, they were fresh off the heels of an introductory effort that was met with a lukewarm reception, noted only for its lead single to which the last fleeting grunge aficionados clung to with vigor. Pablo Honey has now gone on to gather a cult following in the wake of more complimentary retrospective reviews, but what they would produce next would shape the trajectory of their careers for years to come. The Bends is an easily discernible maturation for the group as the songwriting becomes more poignant and the musicianship undergoes a colossal leap forward. It was in the finest details of The Bends where the band had carved out their sound and, more importantly, their confidence.
While examining the title track, The Bends, the two-headed monster of guitar fury is let loose as Jonny Greenwood and Ed O'Brien flourish their talents all throughout a track named after a sensation caused by gas-infused bubbles in the blood. However, the concepts communicated in the song deal with fair-weather friends riding the band's coattails into stardom and knowing who the true confidants are. The conclusion is drawn by Thom Yorke himself who snarls, "We don't have any real friends". Fourth track Fake Plastic Trees goes down as an early era anthem of rejection for the band, serving as a wiser, more contemplative Creep evolution. Working both as a blistering assessment of consumerism in modern society and as Yorke's own disillusion towards the porcelain nature of his experiences of human interaction, particularly those with the opposite sex. The song delicately unfolds before crashing thunderously with guitar hits subbing for lightning. The track softly recoils as Yorke sorrowfully ponders, "If I could be who you wanted, all the time". This was, for lack of a better term, a "grown up" piece for the band and it was also the moment of discovery for Yorke's own lyrical voice. Closing cut Street Spirit (Fade Out) sculpts out a place alongside other Radiohead classics with an emotional weight not yet produced by the group. Commencing with a guitar hook that could inspire ominous dread within Satan himself, the track explores nihilistic motifs and the chilling-certainty of life's short duration. Yorke has even claimed that "it hurts like hell to play" and likened it to "staring the Devil in the eyes". The backing vocal harmony during the second half beseeches images of wandering souls lost in transit as the frontman begs those who listen to "immerse your soul in love". Street Spirit (Fade Out) serves as a proper creative zenith for the band, acting almost as a baptism into a higher consciousness of musical inspiration for the English quintet.
In May of 1997, Radiohead would go on to release the seminal OK Computer and the rest, as they say, is history. For all of OK Computer's ingenuity and attention to detail, the seeds for the album were really sown two years earlier on The Bends. The 1995 effort often draws the short straw when most recall Radiohead's most polished discography entries. It's easy to overlook the stratospheric ascent in dynamism between the band's first and second LPs. The Bends enjoyed a mostly cordial reception by critics but few could be astute enough to cite the album as the birthing of a modern music legend. The pyramid of what we now know as Radiohead was still being built, and the blocks of stone at the foundation are just as important as the ones that sit atop them.
"Faith, you're driving me away,
You do it every day,
You don't mean it, but it hurts like hell,
My brain says I'm receiving pain,
A lack of oxygen,
From my life support, my iron lung."
-My Iron Lung
Standout Tracks:
1. Street Spirit (Fade Out)
2. Fake Plastic Trees
3. (Nice Dream)
94.8 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
While examining the title track, The Bends, the two-headed monster of guitar fury is let loose as Jonny Greenwood and Ed O'Brien flourish their talents all throughout a track named after a sensation caused by gas-infused bubbles in the blood. However, the concepts communicated in the song deal with fair-weather friends riding the band's coattails into stardom and knowing who the true confidants are. The conclusion is drawn by Thom Yorke himself who snarls, "We don't have any real friends". Fourth track Fake Plastic Trees goes down as an early era anthem of rejection for the band, serving as a wiser, more contemplative Creep evolution. Working both as a blistering assessment of consumerism in modern society and as Yorke's own disillusion towards the porcelain nature of his experiences of human interaction, particularly those with the opposite sex. The song delicately unfolds before crashing thunderously with guitar hits subbing for lightning. The track softly recoils as Yorke sorrowfully ponders, "If I could be who you wanted, all the time". This was, for lack of a better term, a "grown up" piece for the band and it was also the moment of discovery for Yorke's own lyrical voice. Closing cut Street Spirit (Fade Out) sculpts out a place alongside other Radiohead classics with an emotional weight not yet produced by the group. Commencing with a guitar hook that could inspire ominous dread within Satan himself, the track explores nihilistic motifs and the chilling-certainty of life's short duration. Yorke has even claimed that "it hurts like hell to play" and likened it to "staring the Devil in the eyes". The backing vocal harmony during the second half beseeches images of wandering souls lost in transit as the frontman begs those who listen to "immerse your soul in love". Street Spirit (Fade Out) serves as a proper creative zenith for the band, acting almost as a baptism into a higher consciousness of musical inspiration for the English quintet.
In May of 1997, Radiohead would go on to release the seminal OK Computer and the rest, as they say, is history. For all of OK Computer's ingenuity and attention to detail, the seeds for the album were really sown two years earlier on The Bends. The 1995 effort often draws the short straw when most recall Radiohead's most polished discography entries. It's easy to overlook the stratospheric ascent in dynamism between the band's first and second LPs. The Bends enjoyed a mostly cordial reception by critics but few could be astute enough to cite the album as the birthing of a modern music legend. The pyramid of what we now know as Radiohead was still being built, and the blocks of stone at the foundation are just as important as the ones that sit atop them.
"Faith, you're driving me away,
You do it every day,
You don't mean it, but it hurts like hell,
My brain says I'm receiving pain,
A lack of oxygen,
From my life support, my iron lung."
-My Iron Lung
Standout Tracks:
1. Street Spirit (Fade Out)
2. Fake Plastic Trees
3. (Nice Dream)
94.8 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
1995
Appears in:
Rank Score:
30,633
Rank in 1995:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
One of the ways the Fishmans online community stokes the fire of their fandom is through the creation of "The Seasonal Report", a fanzine consisting of all things concerning the Japanese outfit. Said volumes contain recent Fishmans-related news, fan retrospectives and even occasional poetry. However, the passion project can only be accessed on 'The Fish Tank' (Fishmans' Discord), issuu.com and archive.org. This narrowness of access is an emblematic reminder of the legacy the band has left in its wake. It's a portrait of veracious artisans whose existence and collected works are shrouded in just as much mystery as truth. This attaches value to excavating deep within cavernous labyrinths to find gold among endless, pedestrian sediment. Some things are meant to be uncovered by happenstance and, due to this, many don't find Fishmans. Fishmans find you. Furthermore, it seems fitting that the closing studio effort was 1997's 'Uchu Nippon Setagaya', an eight-chapter odyssey that saw the band fully harness and deploy the optimal strength of their dream pop powers. See, just as Fishmans was destined to be difficult to discover, they also curated a candle which burned ineffably bright for a finite amount of time. At the risk of inducing melodrama, Fishmans' catalog extends beyond the plane of human achievement and dexterity. To put it plainly, it was the music of the angels.
Album seven is the final entry in Fishmans' Wakiki Trilogy, so named for the new studio HQ, "Waikiki Beach", provided by the band's record label (Polydor). The sonic space birthed fruitful products, as they went on to release three of their most acclaimed records in this new auditory ecosystem. The upgrade in capital also aided a transition to a more evocative and mellifluous sound, supplanting their dub roots. The new look artistic temperament is unabashed and unshrouded in the opening track of 'Space Japan Setagaya', entitled 'Pokka Pokka'. The opening melody coos with a delicate, childlike disposition, almost with the intention to softly awaken one from a dream. Kin-Ichi Motegi's patient drum beat gently breaks the serenity to pull you in as Sato's falsetto safely ushers you to the next soundscape. His lyrics craft a vision more mournful than on previous records. He sings, "I wish I could be kind only to someone; I wish I could live without relying on tomorrow." Honzi's violin, which served as a lynchpin for the band's dream pop realignment, softly puts the track to bed and marks another tender moment in an already alluring discography. At the close, it becomes clear that it's a heinous crime that 98 percent of the western world will never experience this music but it also functions as a magnificent anomaly to those who greet its majesty. It's like finding a four-leaf clover or witnessing a double rainbow by accident. Track two advances the dynamism as icy keys give way to a submerged bassline from Yuzuru Kashiwabara, who's always been a phenomenal bass player, but 'Weather Report' is one of his finest hours. Also, the production done by ZAK is another highlight, as the song shares DNA with Joy Division's 'Atmosphere'. The glassy, sweeping walls of sound contrast the throbbing, ever-present bassline. It's a heavier, but no less comely moment for the group.
'うしろ姿'opens with concordant ticking, evoking a hair-triggered clock. The bass again buoys as Sato sings, "Sometimes I walk a little too far, sometimes I go a little crazy." The track evolves into a pleasing cacophony of dueling rhythms and melodies, all while reverbed vocals hover in the distance, watching the sounds perpetually crawl over each other. Next, comes one of the album's more tranquil passages. The tale goes that when Sato provided his mates with a demo tape which would become 'Uchu Nippon Setagaya', most of the demos were nearly complete. The band was reluctant to tamper with the grandeur of the work, especially 'In the Flight'. On the final version, Sato's dove coos are obscured and hauntingly placid. A disciplined, observant drumbeat lingers behind as the song slowly dissipates into the ether. It's squarely doleful, ruminating on Sato's own personal sense of creative and personal unfulfillment after the band's first 10 years. The juxtaposition of beauty and sorrow coagulate to create a hymn with an idiosyncratic, potent aura. These are the sort of triumphs Fishmans make look elementary. 'Magic Love' commences with what sounds like junkyard percussion and stakes its claim as the cheeriest cut on the record. There's a lot brewing here and the bombastic production furnishes the immediacy. Its flamboyance isn't to its detriment as 'Magic Love' is still distinctly Fishmans and, therefore, funkily merry.
The band rekindle their trip-hop ethos with 'バックビートにのっかって', a slow-churning sway which steadily unravels to don a new sonic identity. Honzi's polite keyboard strokes give way to a more ethereal tone which elicits violin and a more ominous vocal style. "Anxiety hovers in the air at night, it must be ruining someone's life," Sato croons. It's a patient exercise which precurses the maximalist leanings of the subsequent anthem. For the penultimate effort, the album recedes back into itself during the intro of 'Walking in the Rhythm'. Alternating sets of key strokes frame the outer edges of the track as a harmonious chant begins in lock-step while encouraging the listener to 'Walk in the Rhythm'. Clocking in at nearly 13 minutes, this 'Walk' is the record's most prolonged but possibly most serene. Honzi's violin blots the midpoint, as the strings are purposely manic, sonically abyssal and the reverberation creates an illusion of ricocheted amati lost in a spectral wilderness. Soon after, the song shrinks again as a subdued, elongated coda allows the once triumphant harmonies to be ingested subtly by the Earth. 'Walking in the Rhythm' is a masterstroke of simplicity, intention and cognizant repetition. The LP leaves us with its defining statement. 'Daydream' is a bubbling, dilating, caliginous opus that starts with a modest drumbeat. Sato bellows overtop, "A figure in the sunset, standing with a quiet face; They looked so defenseless; They blankly stood." The track oscillates with progressive whimsy, coalescing into a multi-pronged beast of arpeggio. The weighted wheel of guitar that arrives at the track's latter half conjures the sensation of being kissed by the sun after a brief summer rain storm. 'Daydream' gives in to its own anxiety as fragments begin to decouple in a heavenly fashion before dissolving ahead of its full maturation. It remains the most poignant exhibition amongst a marvelous octet of culminating art.
When Shinji Sato presented his decade-long collaborators with his sparkling demo tape for what would become the final record, they were puzzled and questioned their place in an outfit that was rapidly becoming singular. However, Sato's intentions were noble and driven by a pursuit to make music that had the capacity to "change a person's life". In reality, Sato trusted his bandmates to interpret and execute his artistic vision and they too checked their egos in order to produce something wholly momentous. Despite not knowing the full vulnerability of Sato's personal headspace, Kashiwabara and Motegi were aware of the pain he carried as a result of watching his band dissolve in front of his eyes. So, as a reactionary measure, Sato employed loneliness to combat future loneliness. The byproduct was a record marked by solemnity but bathed in a whimsical elixir of creative utopia, a paradise which Sato deeply longed for. His relentless pursuit of perfection was his final undertaking. Sato died in March of 1999, but his bandmates still visit his grave to politely conversate. For theirs is a bond which never can be severed, not even by death. Fishmans still exist, as Sato would've surely wanted, never straying from their desire to plot a path through rain clouds to reach the gleaming sun of ambition and the vivid sky of artistic fulfillment.
"I'm filling the holes in my heart, little by little"
-Pokka Pokka
1. Daydream
2. Walking in the Rhythm
3. In the Flight
94.8 [First added to this chart: 03/14/2021]
Album seven is the final entry in Fishmans' Wakiki Trilogy, so named for the new studio HQ, "Waikiki Beach", provided by the band's record label (Polydor). The sonic space birthed fruitful products, as they went on to release three of their most acclaimed records in this new auditory ecosystem. The upgrade in capital also aided a transition to a more evocative and mellifluous sound, supplanting their dub roots. The new look artistic temperament is unabashed and unshrouded in the opening track of 'Space Japan Setagaya', entitled 'Pokka Pokka'. The opening melody coos with a delicate, childlike disposition, almost with the intention to softly awaken one from a dream. Kin-Ichi Motegi's patient drum beat gently breaks the serenity to pull you in as Sato's falsetto safely ushers you to the next soundscape. His lyrics craft a vision more mournful than on previous records. He sings, "I wish I could be kind only to someone; I wish I could live without relying on tomorrow." Honzi's violin, which served as a lynchpin for the band's dream pop realignment, softly puts the track to bed and marks another tender moment in an already alluring discography. At the close, it becomes clear that it's a heinous crime that 98 percent of the western world will never experience this music but it also functions as a magnificent anomaly to those who greet its majesty. It's like finding a four-leaf clover or witnessing a double rainbow by accident. Track two advances the dynamism as icy keys give way to a submerged bassline from Yuzuru Kashiwabara, who's always been a phenomenal bass player, but 'Weather Report' is one of his finest hours. Also, the production done by ZAK is another highlight, as the song shares DNA with Joy Division's 'Atmosphere'. The glassy, sweeping walls of sound contrast the throbbing, ever-present bassline. It's a heavier, but no less comely moment for the group.
'うしろ姿'opens with concordant ticking, evoking a hair-triggered clock. The bass again buoys as Sato sings, "Sometimes I walk a little too far, sometimes I go a little crazy." The track evolves into a pleasing cacophony of dueling rhythms and melodies, all while reverbed vocals hover in the distance, watching the sounds perpetually crawl over each other. Next, comes one of the album's more tranquil passages. The tale goes that when Sato provided his mates with a demo tape which would become 'Uchu Nippon Setagaya', most of the demos were nearly complete. The band was reluctant to tamper with the grandeur of the work, especially 'In the Flight'. On the final version, Sato's dove coos are obscured and hauntingly placid. A disciplined, observant drumbeat lingers behind as the song slowly dissipates into the ether. It's squarely doleful, ruminating on Sato's own personal sense of creative and personal unfulfillment after the band's first 10 years. The juxtaposition of beauty and sorrow coagulate to create a hymn with an idiosyncratic, potent aura. These are the sort of triumphs Fishmans make look elementary. 'Magic Love' commences with what sounds like junkyard percussion and stakes its claim as the cheeriest cut on the record. There's a lot brewing here and the bombastic production furnishes the immediacy. Its flamboyance isn't to its detriment as 'Magic Love' is still distinctly Fishmans and, therefore, funkily merry.
The band rekindle their trip-hop ethos with 'バックビートにのっかって', a slow-churning sway which steadily unravels to don a new sonic identity. Honzi's polite keyboard strokes give way to a more ethereal tone which elicits violin and a more ominous vocal style. "Anxiety hovers in the air at night, it must be ruining someone's life," Sato croons. It's a patient exercise which precurses the maximalist leanings of the subsequent anthem. For the penultimate effort, the album recedes back into itself during the intro of 'Walking in the Rhythm'. Alternating sets of key strokes frame the outer edges of the track as a harmonious chant begins in lock-step while encouraging the listener to 'Walk in the Rhythm'. Clocking in at nearly 13 minutes, this 'Walk' is the record's most prolonged but possibly most serene. Honzi's violin blots the midpoint, as the strings are purposely manic, sonically abyssal and the reverberation creates an illusion of ricocheted amati lost in a spectral wilderness. Soon after, the song shrinks again as a subdued, elongated coda allows the once triumphant harmonies to be ingested subtly by the Earth. 'Walking in the Rhythm' is a masterstroke of simplicity, intention and cognizant repetition. The LP leaves us with its defining statement. 'Daydream' is a bubbling, dilating, caliginous opus that starts with a modest drumbeat. Sato bellows overtop, "A figure in the sunset, standing with a quiet face; They looked so defenseless; They blankly stood." The track oscillates with progressive whimsy, coalescing into a multi-pronged beast of arpeggio. The weighted wheel of guitar that arrives at the track's latter half conjures the sensation of being kissed by the sun after a brief summer rain storm. 'Daydream' gives in to its own anxiety as fragments begin to decouple in a heavenly fashion before dissolving ahead of its full maturation. It remains the most poignant exhibition amongst a marvelous octet of culminating art.
When Shinji Sato presented his decade-long collaborators with his sparkling demo tape for what would become the final record, they were puzzled and questioned their place in an outfit that was rapidly becoming singular. However, Sato's intentions were noble and driven by a pursuit to make music that had the capacity to "change a person's life". In reality, Sato trusted his bandmates to interpret and execute his artistic vision and they too checked their egos in order to produce something wholly momentous. Despite not knowing the full vulnerability of Sato's personal headspace, Kashiwabara and Motegi were aware of the pain he carried as a result of watching his band dissolve in front of his eyes. So, as a reactionary measure, Sato employed loneliness to combat future loneliness. The byproduct was a record marked by solemnity but bathed in a whimsical elixir of creative utopia, a paradise which Sato deeply longed for. His relentless pursuit of perfection was his final undertaking. Sato died in March of 1999, but his bandmates still visit his grave to politely conversate. For theirs is a bond which never can be severed, not even by death. Fishmans still exist, as Sato would've surely wanted, never straying from their desire to plot a path through rain clouds to reach the gleaming sun of ambition and the vivid sky of artistic fulfillment.
"I'm filling the holes in my heart, little by little"
-Pokka Pokka
1. Daydream
2. Walking in the Rhythm
3. In the Flight
94.8 [First added to this chart: 03/14/2021]
Year of Release:
1997
Appears in:
Rank Score:
1,165
Rank in 1997:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Fishmans' penultimate album, Long Season, is tricky to recapitulate. The music itself seems beyond the realm of tangibility, reminiscent of a soothing summer daydream, effortlessly invoking the ethereal. Despite not being a Japanese speaker, Shinji Sato's tender coos resonate through the sheer emotion that they delicately channel. Sato's vocals function as an extension of the instrumentation rather than a separate entity, consolidating into a 35 minute cloudburst of dream pop and psychedelia. The record in earnest consists of five parts, all weaving together to manifest the full anatomy of Long Season.
As Long Season (Part 1) surfaces, a spacey, smoky atmosphere comes into focus, bubbling with an alien strut. The track evolves into a cascading keyboard loop which is majestically serene while carrying an ever-present promise of combustibility. This is when Sato's first declarations are audible, "At dusk we drove, calling the wind and calling you, we ran from one end of Tokyo to the other, halfway dreaming." The track shimmers during its climax as Honzi's violin and accordion join the fray with exuberant grace. The track seamlessly drifts into Long Season (Part 2) as the keyboard loop is adorned with percussive twinkles and Sato's own protuberant guitar solo. As Kin-ichi Motegi's drums cushion the final moments of Long Season (Part 2), (Part 3) introduces itself with a decidedly ambient complexion. Commencing with a damp, distant quality, (Part 3) is notably restrained when compared to the previous two movements. The track blossoms with Motegi's second drum flourish, a solo that lasts the length of the track serving as a distinct bridge between both boundaries of the record. (Part 4) comes into view with relaxed, remote guitar strikes. Whistling is interwoven throughout the DNA of (Part 4) betwixt a duplicated vocal melody and a swirling, ominous backing whirl. (Part 5) is a different shade of (Part 1), reintroducing the hypnotic keyboard riff with heightened immediacy and scope. The track builds to Sato's own haunting falsetto, broadcasting a billowing a sense of catharsis and rebirth amidst the sonic revisitation. (Part 5) is as majestic as the LP gets and is among the most gorgeous movements in recent memory.
Long Season (Part 5) sounds suspiciously like a swan song in many distinct manners. It recounts the past and treats a movement only 25 minutes removed to be one of complete nostalgia. Sato's own vocals at the finale are so undeniably vulnerable that one would be inclined to think of it more in terms of a finale for him rather than the LP, like a final championing of life and its wonders. The backing vocals stand to up the ante as intrinsic collateral for such a moment. Eerily enough, this movement would be the final piece of music Sato would play live. Long Season in its entirety would be played in Fishmans' final performance which was featured on the beloved live album, 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare. Sato died suddenly of a heart attack three months after the band's final gig. These days, the outfit has reached an entirely new audience far from their native Japan. Long Season has been instrumental in moving the needle and has been retrospectively lauded as a masterpiece, one that graces the ears of new listeners each and every day. It's a testament to the band and the music they were producing. The record outdistanced its own release and becomes more inviting with age. Aligned with the recurring nature of its content like a persistent dream, Long Season is a crisp Spring day that will never end and more importantly, will never wither at the hand of a cruel Winter.
"What is the song are you humming,
What things can you remember,
We are half in a dream."
-Long Season (Part 1)
Standout Tracks:
1. Long Season (Part 5)
2. Long Season (Part 1)
3. Long Season (Part 4)
94.3 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
As Long Season (Part 1) surfaces, a spacey, smoky atmosphere comes into focus, bubbling with an alien strut. The track evolves into a cascading keyboard loop which is majestically serene while carrying an ever-present promise of combustibility. This is when Sato's first declarations are audible, "At dusk we drove, calling the wind and calling you, we ran from one end of Tokyo to the other, halfway dreaming." The track shimmers during its climax as Honzi's violin and accordion join the fray with exuberant grace. The track seamlessly drifts into Long Season (Part 2) as the keyboard loop is adorned with percussive twinkles and Sato's own protuberant guitar solo. As Kin-ichi Motegi's drums cushion the final moments of Long Season (Part 2), (Part 3) introduces itself with a decidedly ambient complexion. Commencing with a damp, distant quality, (Part 3) is notably restrained when compared to the previous two movements. The track blossoms with Motegi's second drum flourish, a solo that lasts the length of the track serving as a distinct bridge between both boundaries of the record. (Part 4) comes into view with relaxed, remote guitar strikes. Whistling is interwoven throughout the DNA of (Part 4) betwixt a duplicated vocal melody and a swirling, ominous backing whirl. (Part 5) is a different shade of (Part 1), reintroducing the hypnotic keyboard riff with heightened immediacy and scope. The track builds to Sato's own haunting falsetto, broadcasting a billowing a sense of catharsis and rebirth amidst the sonic revisitation. (Part 5) is as majestic as the LP gets and is among the most gorgeous movements in recent memory.
Long Season (Part 5) sounds suspiciously like a swan song in many distinct manners. It recounts the past and treats a movement only 25 minutes removed to be one of complete nostalgia. Sato's own vocals at the finale are so undeniably vulnerable that one would be inclined to think of it more in terms of a finale for him rather than the LP, like a final championing of life and its wonders. The backing vocals stand to up the ante as intrinsic collateral for such a moment. Eerily enough, this movement would be the final piece of music Sato would play live. Long Season in its entirety would be played in Fishmans' final performance which was featured on the beloved live album, 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare. Sato died suddenly of a heart attack three months after the band's final gig. These days, the outfit has reached an entirely new audience far from their native Japan. Long Season has been instrumental in moving the needle and has been retrospectively lauded as a masterpiece, one that graces the ears of new listeners each and every day. It's a testament to the band and the music they were producing. The record outdistanced its own release and becomes more inviting with age. Aligned with the recurring nature of its content like a persistent dream, Long Season is a crisp Spring day that will never end and more importantly, will never wither at the hand of a cruel Winter.
"What is the song are you humming,
What things can you remember,
We are half in a dream."
-Long Season (Part 1)
Standout Tracks:
1. Long Season (Part 5)
2. Long Season (Part 1)
3. Long Season (Part 4)
94.3 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
1996
Appears in:
Rank Score:
5,506
Rank in 1996:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Iceland was settled in 874 AD and to this day, only one percent of its geography is cultivated. It's a domain consisting of kaleidoscopic variance when regarding its terrain, with its dramatic contrasts consisting of majestic national parks and prepossessing waterfalls living shoulder-to-shoulder with domineering glaciers and arid, lava deserts rife with volcanic ash. It's only fitting that the country's preeminent musical export synthesizes her homeland's eccentricities into a sonic approach that becomes more and more idiosyncratic as the years elapse. When diving into Björk's music fresh-faced and fully minted, there is often the distinct absence of a harbinger which fuels an ever-evolving discography that can only be described as chameleonic. The euphonious auteur is comfortably more than "that strange songstress from Iceland". More accurately, she's the physical and spiritual embodiment of the beguiling island: ancient, serpentine and seemingly omniscient. These descriptors have never been more apropos than on 1997's 'Homogenic'
It's all there, unclad and unshrouded on the album's cover, as the singer appears adorned with stoic wisdom and unconventional elegance, born of unknown origin. The music to complement the artwork adopts the chillier sentiments of the portrait as opening track, 'Hunter', eschews the predominantly warm overtones contained on the preceding album, 1995's 'Post'. The track fizzes in as pulsating bass arrives to provide the track with infrastructure. Soon after, Björk's detached, aversive vocals greet the listener to elucidate a steadfast direction and an unswerving desire to take herself into a new era, both personally and creatively. There's a hint of the singer looking to her past and a self-reflective look at her musical image up until this point, which was staunchly pacifist and rife with angelic innocence. She recognizes, "I thought I could organize freedom, How Scandinavian of me!" A visage is forming of an artist who no longer pulls her punches and is ready to blaze her own path and new sonic identity with a track that is equal parts human and android. With all compromises forgone, Björk slips into the realm of soul exposé for subsequent track, 'Jóga'. From its genesis, the track is laid softly on a bed of strings which, along with the singer's fluttering voice, soars away from the confines of a darkened cavern and into the shimmering sun. She declares, "Emotional landscapes, They puzzle me, Confuse; Can the riddle get solved?; And you push me up to this state of emergency; How beautiful to be." The track is a dedication to her friend, Jóhanna Jóhannsdóttir, as its trip-hop production and string orchestration gives the song ample punch as well as dynamic contrast. It's the most potent composition on 'Homogenic' and, according to Björk herself, "the fiercest love song she has ever written". Swiftly, the bombastic heights of 'Jóga' recede into the soft cradle provided by third track, 'Unravel'. If 'Jóga' was a fearless declaration of admiration, 'Unravel' is a vulnerable, dithering examination of how admiration is lost across distances and how making love repairs the wounds. Björk coos, "While you are away, My heart comes undone, Slowly unravels in a ball of yarn." There's a dove-like idealism at work here, but the ever-present specter of inevitable failure betwixt the ominous tones of the organ and fairy tale sonic landscape is never absent. It's a realization which blisters into full-blown acrimony on the swaggering, peacocking fourth track, 'Bachelorette'. The track unfurls like a wartime processional, carving out a path on which Björk espouses her essence and decries the indifference of her lover, which reverberates with far more vigor than that of a veiled threat. She professes, "I'm a tree that grows hearts, one for each that you take; You're the intruder's hand, I'm the branch that you break". Flanked with a full orchestra at the ready, which plots footsteps in periodicity with hammer-struck chords, 'Bachelorette' is the songstress at her most agitated, dauntless and dangerous.
As the raging waters of 'Bachelorette' wane, fifth track 'All Neon Like' peers out from under its shelter at the remnants of its predecessors scorn. The piece uncoils with fragility as the sun escapes the blockage of the clouds and begins to softly warm the frozen landscape as the track's confidence builds as the ice sweats. It's another love song, but not one of frustration, as Björk offers comfort to her susceptible inamorato. Practically uniform in tempo, 'All Neon Like' remains patient as waterlogged percussion compliments incorporeal keys and the track effectively remedies, just as the singer promises. The second side of the LP invokes the trip-hop escalation of '5 Years', a more subdued echo of the sentiments of 'Bachelorette'. Once again, a refusal of commitment takes center stage as robotic, looping keys form the skeleton of the track as the skittering drum motif dances alongside of the singer's postulations. "I'm so bored with cowards that say they want; Then they can't handle," she affirms as the sublime, understated strings steer the track to its boundary. Seventh entry, 'Immature', is an introspective manifestation of Björk's exasperations. Despite being one of the record's least-interesting inroads from a sonic standpoint, its thematic importance is never in question within an LP which not only seeks to compartmentalize the world around her, but also rectify Björk's own instabilities. After a septuplet of chapters residing firmly on the sullen side of the emotional spectrum, the bouncy, utopian paradise that is 'Alarm Call' comes as a breath of fresh air. Partly a love letter to music and an unfettered celebration of life, the track portrays the youthful exuberance of an artist reborn, fortified by pain and more acutely aware of the subtle joys when juxtaposed with her hardships. 'Alarm Call' arrives with a tone that recalls distant wind chimes and is ferried out by a guttural scream of defiance. This emphasis on rejuvenation accelerates with vitality on 'Pluto', the LP's most outlandish statement. The properties of the track are remarkably propulsive, as heavy electronic influence galvanizes as Björk's poetry is content to remain forthright and unambiguous. "Excuse me but I just have to explode; Explode this body off me", she exclaims. Despite being arid in terms of accessibility, 'Pluto' remains one of the record's unspoken delights. Antithesis plays its final hand on the LP's final hour, 'All is Full of Love'. As the track carefully paddles through a thick fog into view, Björk's tender delivery embodies the sage wisdom of an ancient being ripe with divinity. The eponymous calls and responses are cocooned by a wall of sound reminiscent of a swarm of insects, but not any native to a place on earth as the harpsichord signals the existence of a cherub realm all its own. It's a dizzying, satisfying coda to a record wrought with pugnacity. The payoff is the personal baptism of its author as she shovels proverbial coal into a creative furnace which has fully and irrevocably liberated.
The Highlands of Iceland, home to the aforementioned volcanic desert, can only be traversed in the Summer, or put differently, when the weather permits. The stingy accommodations made by Mother Nature make it impossible for plant life to survive in the region , except for areas along the shoreline of glacial rivers. They're formed by the gradual melting of centuries-old chunks of ice, which finally manifest themselves as flowing, kinetic bodies of water which aid in the production of a scarce amount of flora. These glaciers have been Icelandic mainstays for thousands of years and their mass dwindles with each passing year as a result of the dramatic effects of global warming brought on by human industrialism. Björk's relationship with members of the human race has had its own share of traumatization. However, in her case, she didn't melt or wither in the barren, molten wasteland. Instead, she found the water.
Standout Tracks:
1. Jóga
2. Bachelorette
3. Unravel
92.7 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
It's all there, unclad and unshrouded on the album's cover, as the singer appears adorned with stoic wisdom and unconventional elegance, born of unknown origin. The music to complement the artwork adopts the chillier sentiments of the portrait as opening track, 'Hunter', eschews the predominantly warm overtones contained on the preceding album, 1995's 'Post'. The track fizzes in as pulsating bass arrives to provide the track with infrastructure. Soon after, Björk's detached, aversive vocals greet the listener to elucidate a steadfast direction and an unswerving desire to take herself into a new era, both personally and creatively. There's a hint of the singer looking to her past and a self-reflective look at her musical image up until this point, which was staunchly pacifist and rife with angelic innocence. She recognizes, "I thought I could organize freedom, How Scandinavian of me!" A visage is forming of an artist who no longer pulls her punches and is ready to blaze her own path and new sonic identity with a track that is equal parts human and android. With all compromises forgone, Björk slips into the realm of soul exposé for subsequent track, 'Jóga'. From its genesis, the track is laid softly on a bed of strings which, along with the singer's fluttering voice, soars away from the confines of a darkened cavern and into the shimmering sun. She declares, "Emotional landscapes, They puzzle me, Confuse; Can the riddle get solved?; And you push me up to this state of emergency; How beautiful to be." The track is a dedication to her friend, Jóhanna Jóhannsdóttir, as its trip-hop production and string orchestration gives the song ample punch as well as dynamic contrast. It's the most potent composition on 'Homogenic' and, according to Björk herself, "the fiercest love song she has ever written". Swiftly, the bombastic heights of 'Jóga' recede into the soft cradle provided by third track, 'Unravel'. If 'Jóga' was a fearless declaration of admiration, 'Unravel' is a vulnerable, dithering examination of how admiration is lost across distances and how making love repairs the wounds. Björk coos, "While you are away, My heart comes undone, Slowly unravels in a ball of yarn." There's a dove-like idealism at work here, but the ever-present specter of inevitable failure betwixt the ominous tones of the organ and fairy tale sonic landscape is never absent. It's a realization which blisters into full-blown acrimony on the swaggering, peacocking fourth track, 'Bachelorette'. The track unfurls like a wartime processional, carving out a path on which Björk espouses her essence and decries the indifference of her lover, which reverberates with far more vigor than that of a veiled threat. She professes, "I'm a tree that grows hearts, one for each that you take; You're the intruder's hand, I'm the branch that you break". Flanked with a full orchestra at the ready, which plots footsteps in periodicity with hammer-struck chords, 'Bachelorette' is the songstress at her most agitated, dauntless and dangerous.
As the raging waters of 'Bachelorette' wane, fifth track 'All Neon Like' peers out from under its shelter at the remnants of its predecessors scorn. The piece uncoils with fragility as the sun escapes the blockage of the clouds and begins to softly warm the frozen landscape as the track's confidence builds as the ice sweats. It's another love song, but not one of frustration, as Björk offers comfort to her susceptible inamorato. Practically uniform in tempo, 'All Neon Like' remains patient as waterlogged percussion compliments incorporeal keys and the track effectively remedies, just as the singer promises. The second side of the LP invokes the trip-hop escalation of '5 Years', a more subdued echo of the sentiments of 'Bachelorette'. Once again, a refusal of commitment takes center stage as robotic, looping keys form the skeleton of the track as the skittering drum motif dances alongside of the singer's postulations. "I'm so bored with cowards that say they want; Then they can't handle," she affirms as the sublime, understated strings steer the track to its boundary. Seventh entry, 'Immature', is an introspective manifestation of Björk's exasperations. Despite being one of the record's least-interesting inroads from a sonic standpoint, its thematic importance is never in question within an LP which not only seeks to compartmentalize the world around her, but also rectify Björk's own instabilities. After a septuplet of chapters residing firmly on the sullen side of the emotional spectrum, the bouncy, utopian paradise that is 'Alarm Call' comes as a breath of fresh air. Partly a love letter to music and an unfettered celebration of life, the track portrays the youthful exuberance of an artist reborn, fortified by pain and more acutely aware of the subtle joys when juxtaposed with her hardships. 'Alarm Call' arrives with a tone that recalls distant wind chimes and is ferried out by a guttural scream of defiance. This emphasis on rejuvenation accelerates with vitality on 'Pluto', the LP's most outlandish statement. The properties of the track are remarkably propulsive, as heavy electronic influence galvanizes as Björk's poetry is content to remain forthright and unambiguous. "Excuse me but I just have to explode; Explode this body off me", she exclaims. Despite being arid in terms of accessibility, 'Pluto' remains one of the record's unspoken delights. Antithesis plays its final hand on the LP's final hour, 'All is Full of Love'. As the track carefully paddles through a thick fog into view, Björk's tender delivery embodies the sage wisdom of an ancient being ripe with divinity. The eponymous calls and responses are cocooned by a wall of sound reminiscent of a swarm of insects, but not any native to a place on earth as the harpsichord signals the existence of a cherub realm all its own. It's a dizzying, satisfying coda to a record wrought with pugnacity. The payoff is the personal baptism of its author as she shovels proverbial coal into a creative furnace which has fully and irrevocably liberated.
The Highlands of Iceland, home to the aforementioned volcanic desert, can only be traversed in the Summer, or put differently, when the weather permits. The stingy accommodations made by Mother Nature make it impossible for plant life to survive in the region , except for areas along the shoreline of glacial rivers. They're formed by the gradual melting of centuries-old chunks of ice, which finally manifest themselves as flowing, kinetic bodies of water which aid in the production of a scarce amount of flora. These glaciers have been Icelandic mainstays for thousands of years and their mass dwindles with each passing year as a result of the dramatic effects of global warming brought on by human industrialism. Björk's relationship with members of the human race has had its own share of traumatization. However, in her case, she didn't melt or wither in the barren, molten wasteland. Instead, she found the water.
Standout Tracks:
1. Jóga
2. Bachelorette
3. Unravel
92.7 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
1997
Appears in:
Rank Score:
13,607
Rank in 1997:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
92.2
[First added to this chart: 02/23/2022]
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones was 20 years of age in the early part of 1994. He had spent the last two years recording what would become his magnum opus and what's widely seen as the crown jewel of today's most preeminent music genre. He was still a minor but possessed the sagacious foresight of a storyteller that had lived five lifetimes. Born in Brooklyn but raised in nearby Queens, his experiences provided the narrative bedrock for 1994's Illmatic, incorporating his observations as a youth and synthesizing them with his reflections as a burgeoning adult. His insight provided social commentary that remains poignant and pertinent over 25 years later. The legendary-titled "N.Y. State of Mind" perhaps prophesied it best. This was the birth of "Nasty Nas" as an idea instead of a name and the beginning of a never-ending chase for genre peers to one-up his debut masterpiece. As of today, it has never been achieved.
After an establishing intro entitled The Genesis, Nasty Nas announces himself with N.Y. State of Mind, a stirring adrenaline shot that simultaneously cherishes (as a haven) and chastises (as a hellhole) the Big Apple. DJ Premier produced the track and provided the spine of the song with a daunting piano sample that is wonderfully dissonant behind Nas' silky delivery. Speaking of silky, Nas' philosophy and flow is on full display throughout the track. He spits, "I'm an addict for sneakers, 20's of Buddha and bitches with beepers, in the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya, inhale deep like the words of my breath, I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death." His first proper track on his debut LP remains one of the genre's defining statements. That's pretty quick work indeed. He collaborates with fellow New York native, AZ, on third track Life's a Bitch. AZ's verse nearly highlights the song with his mile a minute delivery. However, never to be outdone, Nas equalizes during the second half of the three and a half minute cut. He declares, "Got rhymes 365 days annual, plus some, load up the mic and bust one, cuss while I pus from, my skull, cause it's pain in my brain vein, money maintain, don't go against the grain, simple and plain." The track is delicately produced by L.E.S with Nas himself having a hand in crafting the backbone of Life's a Bitch. It's a restrained approach that recognizes the strength of the flows of the rappers involved and gives them ample space to breathe. It then fades out gorgeously with a cornet outro played by Nas' own father, Olu Dara. Fourth track, The World is Yours, is likely the finest representation of the supreme fluidity of its orator. It's often cited as the lynchpin that binds arguments for Nas' possession of the best flow in history. Take for example: "Yet I'm the mild, money-gettin' style, rollin' foul, the versatile, honey-stickin', wild, golden child, dwellin' in the Rotten Apple, you get tackled, or caught by the devil's lasso, shit is a hassle." The World is Yours is nothing less than a lyrical masterclass communicated with the precision of an expert marksman.
The midpoint of the album is appropriately titled, Halftime. In some ways, you can't even tell that The World is Yours has ended, given how effortlessly Nas vocally sails through the fifth track. "I used to hustle, now all I do is relax and strive, when I was young I was a fan of the Jackson 5, I drop jewels, wear jewels, hope to never run it, with more kicks than a baby in a mother's stomach," he details. The track was actually released in 1992 as Nas' first single, under the moniker Nasty Nas. This seems to play a role in the track's omission when talking about the spoils of Illmatic. Nevertheless, Halftime is impossible to ignore, even amongst the giants it stands shoulder-to-shoulder with. After a velvety trip down memory lane, Nas concocts what is likely the summit of his poetic genius. One Love is expertly told and beautifully chronicled. The track snakes along, documenting fictitious letters that Nas has written to his companions who are behind bars. He explains, "What up, kid? I know shit is rough doin' your bid, when the cops came you shoulda slid to my crib, fuck it, black, no time for lookin' back, it's done, plus, congratulations, you know you got a son, I heard he looks like ya, why don't your lady write ya?" Later letters warn his friend to be wary of the dangers of incarceration and his own desire to want to murder out of frustration. He then recants because of his devotion to "One Love". A beautiful and haunting contemplation. He finishes the mosaic by fearing a similar fate for a younger confidante, "Shorty's laugh was cold-blooded as he spoke so foul, only 12, tryin' to tell me that he liked my style, then I rose, wipin' the blunt's ash from my clothes, then froze, only to blow the herb smoke through my nose and told my little man I'ma ghost, I broze, left some jewels in his skull that he can sell if he chose, words of wisdom from Nas: try to rise up above, keep an eye out for Jake, Shorty Wop, one love." The lyricism is unbelievably profound as the Brooklyn-based bard paints a harrowing picture of the dangers of living in poverty and the effect of disenfranchisement and bias towards people of color. However, Nas promises to rise above the immense sociological disadvantages handed to him while hoping others will follow his lead. A sentiment that remains frighteningly relevant today. One Love is a landmark in hip-hop storytelling pageantry.
Nas' Illmatic remains entrenched in the pantheon of the lauded era of 90's hip-hop. On the other hand, it seems far ahead of its time. Its production and beats are some of the best that the era had to offer but it's the poetry on the LP that allows it to elude the aging process. Illmatic almost functions as a "Benjamin Button" of sorts, becoming more and more essential as time passes. Echoes of its excellence are heard in numerous hip-hop projects each and every year. In 2014, a documentary film, "Nas: Time is Illmatic", explored the album and its lasting legacy. Nas himself has even called the 25 years since the release as "a lifetime". It's perfectly understandable coming from the man who lived it, but the music never fails to be a product of the moment when it hits your eardrums and heart. If you listen closely, you can hear it reverberate off the brick walls of New York's compressed alleyways, rising above the sound of traffic, banter and the steam that rises from the streets.
"My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails,
I reinforce the frail with lyrics that's real,
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats,
I decipher prophecies through a mic and say peace."
- Memory Lane (Sittin' in Da Park)
Standout Tracks:
1. One Love
2. Halftime
3. N.Y. State of Mind
92 [First added to this chart: 06/18/2020]
After an establishing intro entitled The Genesis, Nasty Nas announces himself with N.Y. State of Mind, a stirring adrenaline shot that simultaneously cherishes (as a haven) and chastises (as a hellhole) the Big Apple. DJ Premier produced the track and provided the spine of the song with a daunting piano sample that is wonderfully dissonant behind Nas' silky delivery. Speaking of silky, Nas' philosophy and flow is on full display throughout the track. He spits, "I'm an addict for sneakers, 20's of Buddha and bitches with beepers, in the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya, inhale deep like the words of my breath, I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death." His first proper track on his debut LP remains one of the genre's defining statements. That's pretty quick work indeed. He collaborates with fellow New York native, AZ, on third track Life's a Bitch. AZ's verse nearly highlights the song with his mile a minute delivery. However, never to be outdone, Nas equalizes during the second half of the three and a half minute cut. He declares, "Got rhymes 365 days annual, plus some, load up the mic and bust one, cuss while I pus from, my skull, cause it's pain in my brain vein, money maintain, don't go against the grain, simple and plain." The track is delicately produced by L.E.S with Nas himself having a hand in crafting the backbone of Life's a Bitch. It's a restrained approach that recognizes the strength of the flows of the rappers involved and gives them ample space to breathe. It then fades out gorgeously with a cornet outro played by Nas' own father, Olu Dara. Fourth track, The World is Yours, is likely the finest representation of the supreme fluidity of its orator. It's often cited as the lynchpin that binds arguments for Nas' possession of the best flow in history. Take for example: "Yet I'm the mild, money-gettin' style, rollin' foul, the versatile, honey-stickin', wild, golden child, dwellin' in the Rotten Apple, you get tackled, or caught by the devil's lasso, shit is a hassle." The World is Yours is nothing less than a lyrical masterclass communicated with the precision of an expert marksman.
The midpoint of the album is appropriately titled, Halftime. In some ways, you can't even tell that The World is Yours has ended, given how effortlessly Nas vocally sails through the fifth track. "I used to hustle, now all I do is relax and strive, when I was young I was a fan of the Jackson 5, I drop jewels, wear jewels, hope to never run it, with more kicks than a baby in a mother's stomach," he details. The track was actually released in 1992 as Nas' first single, under the moniker Nasty Nas. This seems to play a role in the track's omission when talking about the spoils of Illmatic. Nevertheless, Halftime is impossible to ignore, even amongst the giants it stands shoulder-to-shoulder with. After a velvety trip down memory lane, Nas concocts what is likely the summit of his poetic genius. One Love is expertly told and beautifully chronicled. The track snakes along, documenting fictitious letters that Nas has written to his companions who are behind bars. He explains, "What up, kid? I know shit is rough doin' your bid, when the cops came you shoulda slid to my crib, fuck it, black, no time for lookin' back, it's done, plus, congratulations, you know you got a son, I heard he looks like ya, why don't your lady write ya?" Later letters warn his friend to be wary of the dangers of incarceration and his own desire to want to murder out of frustration. He then recants because of his devotion to "One Love". A beautiful and haunting contemplation. He finishes the mosaic by fearing a similar fate for a younger confidante, "Shorty's laugh was cold-blooded as he spoke so foul, only 12, tryin' to tell me that he liked my style, then I rose, wipin' the blunt's ash from my clothes, then froze, only to blow the herb smoke through my nose and told my little man I'ma ghost, I broze, left some jewels in his skull that he can sell if he chose, words of wisdom from Nas: try to rise up above, keep an eye out for Jake, Shorty Wop, one love." The lyricism is unbelievably profound as the Brooklyn-based bard paints a harrowing picture of the dangers of living in poverty and the effect of disenfranchisement and bias towards people of color. However, Nas promises to rise above the immense sociological disadvantages handed to him while hoping others will follow his lead. A sentiment that remains frighteningly relevant today. One Love is a landmark in hip-hop storytelling pageantry.
Nas' Illmatic remains entrenched in the pantheon of the lauded era of 90's hip-hop. On the other hand, it seems far ahead of its time. Its production and beats are some of the best that the era had to offer but it's the poetry on the LP that allows it to elude the aging process. Illmatic almost functions as a "Benjamin Button" of sorts, becoming more and more essential as time passes. Echoes of its excellence are heard in numerous hip-hop projects each and every year. In 2014, a documentary film, "Nas: Time is Illmatic", explored the album and its lasting legacy. Nas himself has even called the 25 years since the release as "a lifetime". It's perfectly understandable coming from the man who lived it, but the music never fails to be a product of the moment when it hits your eardrums and heart. If you listen closely, you can hear it reverberate off the brick walls of New York's compressed alleyways, rising above the sound of traffic, banter and the steam that rises from the streets.
"My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails,
I reinforce the frail with lyrics that's real,
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats,
I decipher prophecies through a mic and say peace."
- Memory Lane (Sittin' in Da Park)
Standout Tracks:
1. One Love
2. Halftime
3. N.Y. State of Mind
92 [First added to this chart: 06/18/2020]
Year of Release:
1994
Appears in:
Rank Score:
17,369
Rank in 1994:
Rank in 1990s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Total albums: 92. Page 1 of 10
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Top 92 Music Albums of the 1990s composition
| Year | Albums | % | |
|---|---|---|---|
 |
 |
|
|
| 1990 | 2 | 2% | |
| 1991 | 6 | 7% | |
| 1992 | 6 | 7% | |
| 1993 | 7 | 8% | |
| 1994 | 14 | 15% | |
| 1995 | 10 | 11% | |
| 1996 | 13 | 14% | |
| 1997 | 13 | 14% | |
| 1998 | 11 | 12% | |
| 1999 | 10 | 11% |
| Artist | Albums | % | |
|---|---|---|---|
|
|
 |
|
|
| フィッシュマンズ [Fishmans] | 10 | 11% | |
| Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds | 6 | 7% | |
| Swans | 5 | 5% | |
| Aphex Twin | 4 | 4% | |
| Radiohead | 3 | 3% | |
| Björk | 3 | 3% | |
| Autechre | 3 | 3% | |
| Show all | |||
| Country | Albums | % | |
|---|---|---|---|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
36 | 39% | |
 |
21 | 23% | |
 |
11 | 12% | |
 |
8 | 9% | |
 |
5 | 5% | |
 |
4 | 4% | |
 |
3 | 3% | |
| Show all | |||
Top 92 Music Albums of the 1990s chart changes
There have been no changes to this chart.Top 92 Music Albums of the 1990s similar charts
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Top 92 Music Albums of the 1990s ratings
89/100 (from 5 votes)
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N.B. The average rating for this chart will not be reliable as it has been rated very few times.
Showing all 5 ratings for this chart.
| Rating | Date updated | Member | Chart ratings | Avg. chart rating |
|---|---|---|---|---|
 90/100  | 07/20/2021 15:03 |  Larcx13 | | 86/100 |
| 100/100 | 04/28/2021 19:07 |  Rhyner | | 99/100 |
| 95/100 | 11/10/2020 04:28 | leniad | | 85/100 |
| 100/100 | 11/08/2020 23:17 | DJENNY | | 100/100 |
| 90/100 | 04/28/2020 06:45 |  desh79 | | 93/100 |
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95/100
From leniad 11/10/2020 04:28
rexcellent selectios
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We work very hard to ensure our site is as fast (and FREE!) as possible, and we respect your privacy.