Index of posts 1-500

Starting to wonder what exactly I'll do when this thing gets too unwieldy, which some would say it already is. Ideas?

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ALPHABETICAL INDEX
KEY: [A+] / [hr] = highly recommended / [r] = recommended / [c] = caution / [NO] = avoid

(Keep in mind, we're using iTunes alphabetization here. I am well aware that from a cataloging standpoint that's total bullshit, but it keeps me from having to deal with surname ambiguities. I'm a library assistant in real life so I know this is offensive, and all I can tell you is... I like pissing you off.)

STUDIO ALBUMS

10,000 Maniacs: In My Tribe (1987) [c]
10,000 Maniacs: Blind Man's Zoo (1989)
10,000 Maniacs: Our Time in Eden (1992) [c]
13th Floor Elevators: The Psychedelic Sounds Of (1966) [hr]
13th Floor Elevators: Easter Everywhere (1967) [r]
2 Many DJ's: As Heard on Radio Soulwax, Pt. 2 (2002)
3 Mustaphas 3: Soup of the Century (1990) [c]
The 6ths: Wasps' Nest (1995) [hr]
The 6ths: Hyacinths and Thistles (2000) [r]
...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead: Source Tags & Codes (2002) [c]
A.C. Newman: The Slow Wonder (2004) [r]
A.C. Newman: Get Guilty (2009) [r]
A$AP Rocky: LongLiveA$AP (2013) [r]
Actress: R.I.P. (2012)
Adam Green: Jacket Full of Danger (2006) [r]
Advance Base: A Shut-In's Prayer (2012) [hr]
Aesop Rock: Labor Days (2001) [r]
Air: Moon Safari (1998) [hr]
Al Green Gets Next to You (1971) [hr]
Al Green: Let's Stay Together (1972) [hr]
Al Wilson: Show and Tell (1973)
Alanis Morissette: Jagged Little Pill (1995) [r]
Albert King: Best of (1968-73)
Alexander "Skip" Spence: Oar (1969) [hr]
Alexi Murdoch: Time Without Consequence (2006) [hr]
Ali Farka Touré (1988) [r]
Anal Cunt: I Like It When You Die (1997)
Andrew Bird: Noble Beast (2009) [hr]
Andrew Bird: Break It Yourself (2012) [r]
Andrew Bird: Hands of Glory (2012) [hr]
Andy Statman: Nashville Mornings, New York Nights (1986) [r]
Andy Stott: Luxury Problems (2012)
Angelique Kidjo: Logozo (1991) [c]
Angie Stone: Black Diamond (1999)
Animal Collective: Sung Tongs (2004)
The Animals: Animalism (1966) [r]
Annie: Anniemal (2004)
Annie Lennox: Diva (1992)
Anouar Brahem: Barzakh (1991) [r]
Antietam: Rope-a-Dope (1994)
The Antlers: Hospice (2009)
The Antlers: Burst Apart (2011) [hr]
Antibalas (2012) [r]
Antony & the Johnsons: I Am a Bird Now (2005)
Any Trouble: Where Are All the Nice Girls? (1980) [c]
Aphex Twin: Selected Ambient Works 85-92 (1992) [hr]
The Apples in Stereo: Fun Trick Noisemaker (1995) [r]
The Apples in Stereo: New Magnetic Wonder (2007) [r]
AraabMUZIK: Electronic Dream (2011)
Arcade Fire: Neon Bible (2007) [hr]
Arcade Fire: The Suburbs (2010) [hr]
Ariel Pink: Worn Copy (2005)
Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti: Before Today (2010) [hr]
Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti: Mature Themes (2012) [NO]
Atlas Sound: Logos (2009) [r]
Atlas Sound: Parallax (2011) [hr]
The Avett Brothers: I and Love and You (2009) [hr]
The Avett Brothers: The Carpenter (2012)
The B-52's (1979) [hr]
The B-52's: Wild Planet (1980) [hr]
Bat for Lashes: The Haunted Man (2012)
The Bats: Free All the Monsters (2011) [r]
The Beach Boys: Surfin' Safari (1962) [r]
Beach House: Devotion (2008) [r]
Beach House: Bloom (2012) [hr]
Beastie Boys: Hot Sauce Committee Part Two (2011) [r]
The Beatles: Please Please Me (1963) [A+]
The Beatles: With the Beatles (1963) [A+]
The Beatles: A Hard Day's Night (1964) [A+]
Belle & Sebastian: The Life Pursuit (2006) [hr]
Belle & Sebastian: Write About Love (2010) [r]
Best Coast: Crazy for You (2010) [r]
Big Boi: Sir Lucious Left Foot- The Son of Chico Dusty (2010) [r]
Big Star: #1 Record (1972) [A+]
Big Star: Radio City (1973) [A+]
Big Star: Third / Sister Lovers (1978) [A+]
The Bird and the Bee: Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future (2008) [hr]
Björk: Selmasongs (2000) [hr]
Björk: Volta (2007) [r]
Björk: Biophilia (2011) [r]
Blur: Think Tank (2003) [hr]
Bob Dylan: Together Through Life (2009) [r]
Bob Dylan: Tempest (2012) [hr]
Bon Iver (2011)
Bonde do Role: Tropical/Bacanal (2012) [r]
Brian Eno: Lux (2012) [r]
Brian Eno & Rick Holland: Drums Between the Bells (2011) [c]
Broken Bells (2010)
Broken Social Scene (2005) [hr]
Buddy Holly: The "Chirping" Crickets (1957) [hr]
Buddy Holly (1958) [hr]
The C.A. Quintet: Trip Thru Hell (1968) [r]
Cake: Motorcade of Generosity (1994)
Cake: Fashion Nugget (1996) [c]
Cake: Prolonging the Magic (1998)
Camera Obscura: My Maudlin Career (2009) [c]
Camera Obscura: Desire Lines (2013) [r]
Cass McCombs: Wit's End (2011)
Cat Power: Sun (2012) [r]
ceo: White Magic (2010) [r]
Chatham County Line: Wildwood (2010) [r]
The Chemical Brothers: Further (2010)
Chromatics: Kill for Love (2012) [r]
Chuck Berry: After School Session (1957) [hr]
The Clash (1977) [A+]
The Clash: Give 'Em Enough Rope (1978) [r]
Cloud Nothings: Attack on Memory (2012) [c]
Crystal Castles (2010) [hr]
Crystal Castles: (III) (2012)
Cults (2011) [hr]
Curren$y: Pilot Talk (2010) [hr]
Curren$y: Pilot Talk II (2010) [r]
Curren$y: Weekend at Burnie's (2011) [r]
Curren$y: Muscle Car Chronicles (2012)
Curren$y: The Stoned Immaculate (2012) [r]
Cut Copy: Zonoscope (2011) [hr]
D.L. Byron: This Day and Age (1980)
Daft Punk: Homework (1997) [r]
Das Racist: Relax (2011) [hr]
Dawn Richard: Goldenheart (2013) [r]
De La Soul: The Grind Date (2004) [r]
Death Grips: The Money Store (2012) [NO]
The Decemberists: The Hazards of Love (2009)
The Decemberists: The King Is Dead (2011) [hr]
Deerhunter: Halcyon Digest (2010) [hr]
Deerhunter: Monomania (2013) [c]
Dent May: Do Things (2012) [r]
Depeche Mode: Sounds of the Universe (2009) [r]
Depeche Mode: Delta Machine (2013)
Delorean: Subiza (2010) [r]
Destroyer: Kaputt (2011) [hr]
Devo: Something for Everybody (2010) [NO]
DIIV: Oshin (2012)
Dirty Projectors: Swing Lo Magellan (2012)
DJ Quik: The Book of David (2011) [c]
Drake: Take Care (2011) [NO]
Eels: Tomorrow Morning (2010)
El-P: Cancer 4 Cure (2012)
EMA: Past Life Martyred Saints (2011) [r]
Emeralds: Does It Look Like I'm Here? (2010) [c]
The Essex Green: Cannibal Sea (2006)
The Everly Brothers (1958) [hr]
The Everly Brothers: Songs Our Daddy Taught Us (1958) [hr]
The Extra Lens: Undercard (2010) [r]
The Faint: Blank Wave Arcade (1999)
Fairport Convention (1967)
Faith No More: Angel Dust (1992) [NO]
Faithless: Reverence (1996) [c]
Fang Island (2010)
Feist: The Reminder (2007) [hr]
Feist: Metals (2011)
The Field: Looping State of Mind (2011) [r]
Fiona Apple: The Idler Wheel... (2012) [hr]
The Flaming Lips: Embryonic (2009) [hr]
The Flaming Lips: The Terror (2013)
The Flaming Lips and Heady Fwends (2012)
Fleet Foxes: Helplessness Blues (2011) [c]
Flying Lotus: Cosmogramma (2010)
Flying Lotus: Until the Quiet Comes (2012)
Four Tet: There Is Love in You (2010) [r]
Foxygen: We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors... (2013)
Frank Ocean: Channel Orange (2012) [r]
Frankie Rose: Interstellar (2012)
Fucked Up: David Comes to Life (2011)
Future Bible Heroes: Partygoing (2013) [hr]
Galaxie 500: Today (1988) [hr]
Galaxie 500: On Fire (1989) [hr]
Galaxie 500: This Is Our Music (1990) [A+]
Gang Gang Dance: Eye Contact (2011) [r]
Gang of Four: Content (2011) [r]
Girls: Father, Son, Holy Ghost (2011)
Godspeed You! Black Emperor: 'Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend (2012) [NO]
Goldfrapp: Head First (2010)
Gonjasufi: A Sufi and a Killer (2010)
Gossip: A Joyful Noise (2012) [c]
Great Lake Swimmers: Lost Channels (2009) [hr]
Great Lake Swimmers: New wild Everywhere (2012) [NO]
Grimes: Visions (2012)
Grizzly Bear: Shields (2012)
Grouper: The Man Who Died in His Boat (2013)
Handsome Boy Modeling School: So... How's Your Girl? (1999) [NO]
Herbie Hancock: Head Hunters (1973) [hr]
Horse Feathers: Cynic's New Year (2012) [r]
Hot Chip: Made in the Dark (2008) [hr]
Hot Chip: One Life Stand (2010) [hr]
Hot Chip: In Our Heads (2012) [r]
How to Dress Well: Love Remains (2010) [c]
Ice Choir: Afar (2012) [r]
Iceage: New Brigade (2011) [r]
Ice-T: O.G. Original Gangster (1991) [r]
Ida Cox & Coleman Hawkins: Blues for Rampart Street (1961) [hr]
Imani Coppola: Chupacabra (2011) [r]
Information Society (1988) [hr]
The International Submarine Band: Safe at Home (1968) [r]
Interpol (2010) [c]
Iron & Wine: The Shepherd's Dog (2007) [hr]
Iron & Wine: Kiss Each Other Clean (2011) [r]
Iron & Wine: Ghost on Ghost (2013) [c]
J Dilla: Donuts (2006) [A+]
James Blake (2011) [r]
Japandroids: Celebration Rock (2012) [NO]
Jay-Z: Magna Carta Holy Grail (2013)
Jay-Z & Kanye West: Watch the Throne (2011) [r]
Jessie Ware: Devotion (2012) [r]
Joanna Newsom: Ys (2006) [hr]
Joanna Newsom: Have One on Me (2010) [A+]
John Coltrane: Giant Steps (1960) [A+]
John Coltrane: Ballads (1962) [A+]
John Coltrane: A Love Supreme (1964) [A+]
John Maus: We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves (2011) [r]
John Talabot: fIN (2012) [r]
The Joy Formidable: Wolf's Law (2013)
Julia Holter: Ekstasis (2012) [c]
Julian Lynch: Mare (2010) [r]
Julianna Barwick: The Magic Place (2011)
Justin Timberlake: The 20/20 Experience (2013)
Kaki King: Everybody Loves You (2003) [r]
Kanye West: 808s & Heartbreak (2008) [hr]
Kanye West: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010) [A+]
Kanye West: Yeezus (2013) [A+]
Kate Bush: 50 Words for Snow (2011)
Kendrick Lamar: good kid, m.A.A.d. city (2012) [hr]
Killer Mike: R.A.P. Music (2012) [hr]
The Kinks (1964) [r]
The Kinks: Kinda Kinks (1965) [hr]
The Kinks: The Kink Kontroversy (1965) [hr]
The Kinks: Face to Face (1966) [A+]
Kurt Vile: Smoke Ring for My Halo (2011) [NO]
L7 (1988)
L7: Smell the Magic (1990) [hr]
L7: Bricks Are Heavy (1992) [hr]
Lambchop: Mr. M (2012) [r]
Leonard Cohen: Songs of Leonard Cohen (1967) [A+]
Leonard Cohen: Dear Heather (2004) [hr]
Leonard Cohen: Old Ideas (2012)
Lisa Germano: No Elephants (2013)
Little Richard: Here's Little Richard (1957)
Lord Huron: Lonesome Dreams (2012) [r]
Lotus Plaza: Spooky Action at a Distance (2012)
Lupe Fiasco: Lasers (2011) [NO]
Lupe Fiasco: Food & Liquor II (2012) [c]
Lykke Li: Wounded Rhymes (2011) [r]
M. Ward: Duet for Guitars #2 (1999) [r]
M. Ward: End of Amnesia (2001) [r]
M. Ward: Transfiguration of Vincent (2003) [hr]
M. Ward: A Wasteland Companion (2012)
M83: Hurry Up, We're Dreaming (2011) [c]
Mac DeMarco: 2 (2012)
Madonna: Hard Candy (2008)
Madonna: MDNA (2012)
The Magnetic Fields: Distortion (2008) [hr]
The Magnetic Fields: Love at the Bottom of the Sea (2012) [r]
Male Bonding: Nothing Hurts (2010) [hr]
Male Bonding: Endless Now (2011) [r]
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On (1971) [A+]
Marvin Gaye: Let's Get It On (1973) [A+]
Marvin Gaye: I Want You (1976) [hr]
Mates of State: Mountaintops (2011)
Matthew Dear: Black City (2010) [r]
The Men: Open Your Heart (2012) [r]
Metz (2012) [c]
Midnight Juggernauts: The Crystal Axis (2010) [hr]
Miguel: Kaleidoscope Dream (2012) [r]
Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool (1950) [A+]
Miles Davis: Walkin' (1954) [A+]
Miles Davis: Relaxin' (1958) [hr]
Moby: Destroyed (2011) [r]
Mount Eerie: Clear Moon (2012)
The Mountain Goats: The Life of the World to Come (2009) [hr]
The Mountain Goats: All Eternals Deck (2011) [hr]
The Mountain Goats: Transcendental Youth (2012) [r]
Muse: The 2nd Law (2012) [c]
My Bloody Valentine: mbv (2013) [r]
Nana Grizol: Love It Love It (2008)
Nas: Life Is Good (2012) [hr]
The National: Trouble Will Find Me (2013) [hr]
Neil Young: Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (1969) [hr]
The New Pornographers: Challengers (2007) [r]
Nicolas Jaar: Space Is Only Noise (2011) [hr]
No Age: Everything in Between (2010) [c]
Oasis: Definitely Maybe (1994) [hr]
OFF! First Four EPs (2011) [r]
Okkervil River: I Am Very Far (2011) [r]
Old 97's: Blame It on Gravity (2008) [r]
Old 97's: The Grand Theatre, Volume One (2010)
Old 97's: The Grand Theatre Volume Two (2011) [c]
Old Crow Medicine Show: Tennessee Pusher (2008) [hr]
Old Crow Medicine Show: Carry Me Back (2012) [c]
Oneohtrix Point Never: Replica (2011) [r]
Otis Redding: Otis Blue (1965) [A+]
Otis Redding: The Otis Redding Dictionary of Soul (1966) [hr]
OutKast: Idlewild (2006) [r]
Over the Rhine: The Long Surrender (2011) [r]
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Belong (2011) [r]
Panda Bear: Person Pitch (2007) [r]
Panda Bear: Tomboy (2011) [c]
Pantha du Prince: Black Noise (2010)
Parliament: Osmium (1970) [hr]
Passion Pit: Gossamer (2012)
Paul Simon: So Beautiful or So What (2011)
Perfume Genius: Put Your Back in 2 It (2012) [r]
The Pernice Brothers: Goodbye, Killer (2010)
Pet Shop Boys: Yes (2009) [hr]
Pet Shop Boys: Elysium (2012) [c]
Pet Shop Boys: Electric (2013) [hr]
Peter Gabriel: Up (2002) [hr]
PJ Harvey: Let England Shake (2011) [hr]
Prince: Dirty Mind (1980) [hr]
Prince: Controversy (1981) [hr]
Prince: 1999 (1982) [A+]
Prince: Purple Rain (1984) [A+]
Purity Ring: Shrines (2012)
Quakers (2012) [r]
R.E.M.: Murmur (1983) [A+]
R.E.M.: Collapse into Now (2011)
Radiohead: In Rainbows (2007) [A+]
Radiohead: The King of Limbs (2011) [hr]
Ray Charles: Genius + Soul = Jazz (1961)
Ray Charles: Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music (1962) [A+]
Real Estate: Days (2011) [r]
Red Hot Chili Peppers: I'm with You (2011) [r]
Robyn: Body Talk (2010) [r]
The Rolling Stones: England's Newest Hit Makers (1964)
The Roots: Rising Down (2008) [r]
The Roots: undun (2012) [r]
Royal Baths: Better Luck Next Life (2012) [c]
Saint Etienne: Words and Music By (2012) [hr]
The Saints: (I'm) Stranded (1977) [hr]
The Saints: Eternally Yours (1978) [r]
The Saints: All Fool's Day (1986) [hr]
Sam Cooke: Night Beat (1963) [A+]
Saturday Looks Good to Me: Fill Up the Room (2007) [hr]
Saturday Looks Good to Me: One Kiss Ends It All (2013) [r]
Schoolboy Q: Habits and Contradictions (2012) [c]
Sepalcure (2011) [r]
Shabazz Palaces: Black Up (2011) [hr]
She & Him: Volume Two (2010) [r]
The Shins: Wincing the Night Away (2007) [A+]
The Shins: Port of Morrow (2012) [c]
Sleigh Bells: Treats (2010) [NO]
Smith Westerns: Dye It Blonde (2011) [hr]
Smith Westerns: Soft Will (2013)
Smokey Robinson & the Miracles: Make It Happen (1967) [hr]
Spiritualized: Sweet Heart, Sweet Light (2012) [r]
Spoon: Transference (2010) [r]
St. Vincent: Strange Mercy (2011) [r]
Stevie Wonder: Music of My Mind (1972) [hr]
Stevie Wonder: Talking Book (1972) [hr]
Stevie Wonder: Innervisions (1973) [A+]
The Strokes: Angles (2011) [r]
The Strokes: Comedown Machine (2013) [hr]
Suckers: Candy Salad (2012) [hr]
Sufjan Stevens: Illinoise (2005) [hr]
Sufjan Stevens: The Age of Adz (2010) [hr]
Swans: The Seer (2012) [NO]
T.I.: King (2006) [r]
Talking Heads: 77 (1977) [hr]
Talking Heads: More Songs About Buildings and Food (1978) [A+]
Talking Heads: Fear of Music (1979) [A+]
The Tallest Man on Earth: There's No Leaving Now (2012) [hr]
Tame Impala: Innerspeaker (2010) [hr]
Tame Impala: Lonerism (2012) [r]
Teddy Thompson: Bella (2011) [c]
Tegan and Sara: Heartthrob (2013) [hr]
Television: Marquee Moon (1977) [A+]
Television: Adventure (1978) [hr]
Tennis: Cape Dory (2011) [r]
Terry Malts: Killing Time (2012) [hr]
The-Dream: Love King (2010) [r]
Tim Hecker: Ravedeath, 1972 (2011) [c]
Times New Viking: Dancer Equired (2011) [r]
Titus Andronicus: The Monitor (2010) [hr]
Titus Andronicus: Local Business (2012) [hr]
Toro Y Moi: Underneath the Pine (2011)
tUnE-yArDs: BiRd-BrAiNs (2009) [hr]
tUnE-yArDs: whokill (2011) [A+]
TV on the Radio: Dear Science (2008) [hr]
TV on the Radio: Nine Types of Light (2011) [hr]
Twin Shadow: Forget (2010) [r]
Twin Shadow: Confess (2012) [hr]
Twin Sister: In Heaven (2011) [hr]
Ty Segall: Slaughterhouse (2012)
Vampire Weekend (2008) [r]
Vampire Weekend: Modern Vampires of the City (2013) [A+]
The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967) [hr]
The Velvet Underground: White Light / White Heat (1968) [A+]
The Velvet Underground (1969) [A+]
The Walkmen: Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone (2002) [hr]
The Walkmen: Bows + Arrows (2004) [hr]
The Walkmen: You & Me (2008) [hr]
The Walkmen: Lisbon (2010) [hr]
The Walkmen: Heaven (2012) [hr]
The War on Drugs: Slave Ambient (2011) [NO]
Washed Out: Within and Without (2011) [r]
Wavves: King of the Beach (2010) [r]
Waxahatchee: Cerulean Salt (2013) [r]
We Are Scientists: Barbara (2010) [NO]
WhoMadewho: Brighter (2012) [r]
Wilco: The Whole Love (2011) [hr]
Wild Nothing: Gemini (2010) [r]
Wild Nothing: Nocturne (2012) [r]
Willis Earl Beal: Acousmatic Sorcery (2012) [r]
Wire: Red Barked Tree (2011) [r]
WU LYF: Go Tell Fire to the Mountain (2011) [NO]
Wye Oak: Civilian (2011) [r]
The xx: Coexist (2012) [hr]
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Mosquito (2013) [c]
Yeasayer: Fragrant World (2012) [r]
Yo La Tengo: Popular Songs (2009) [hr]
Yo La Tengo: Fade (2013) [hr]
Youth Lagoon: The Year of Hibernation (2011) [r]
Yuck (2011) [r]

REMIX ALBUMS / MIXTAPES / FILM SCORES
A$AP Rocky: LiveLoveA$AP (2011) [hr]
Aimee Mann: Magnolia OST (1999) [c]
Big K.R.I.T.: Return of 4Eva (2011)
The Chemical Brothers: Hanna OST (2011) [r]
Curren$y: Return to the Winner's Circle (2011) [hr]
Curren$y: Verde Terrace (2011)
Curren$y & The Alchemist: Covert Coup (2011)
Das Racist: Sit Down, Man (2010) [r]
Gil Scott-Heron & Jamie xx: We're New Here (2011) [r]
Lupe Fiasco: Friend of the People (2012) [c]
The Mountain Goats: All Survivors Pack (2011) [r]
Radiohead: TKOL RMX 1234567 (2011)
The Weeknd: House of Balloons (2011) [r]

EP's
Alexi Murdoch: Four Songs (2002) [hr]
Animal Collective: Fall Be Kind (2009)
The Antlers: (together) (2011)
The Antlers: Undersea (2012) [r]
Arcade Fire (2003)
The B-52's: Party Mix (1981)
Burial: Kindred (2012)
Colleen Green: Cujo (2011) [r]
Crystal Stilts: Radiant Door (2011) [hr]
Darkside (2011) [r]
The Decemberists: iTunes Session (2011) [r]
The Decemberists: Long Live the King (2011) [r]
Dum Dum Girls: End of Daze (2012)
The Flaming Lips: With Neon Indian (2011) [r]
Girls: Broken Dreams Club (2010) [r]
Hot Chip: We Have Remixes (2010) [r]
James Blake: CMYK (2010)
Nicolas Jaar: Don't Break My Love (2011)
Okkervil River: Golden Opportunities 2 (2011)
PAPA: A Good Woman Is Hard to Find (2011) [hr]
R.E.M.: Chronic Town (1982) [A+]
Radiohead: TKOL RMX 8 (2011)
Sufjan Stevens: All Delighted People (2010) [r]
Surfer Blood: Tarot Classics (2011) [r]
The Tallest Man on Earth: Sometimes the Blues Is Just a Passing Bird (2010) [hr]
TNGHT (2012) [r]
Vampire Weekend: iTunes Session (2011) [r]
Yo La Tengo: Stupid Things (2012) [r]

LIVE ALBUMS
10,000 Maniacs: MTV Unplugged (1993)

COMPILATIONS
The "5" Royales: All Righty! The Apollo Recordings (1951-55) [r]
The "5" Royales: Complete King Masters (1954-60) [A+]
? & the Mysterians: Best Of- Cameo Parkway (1966-67) [hr]
101 Strings Orchestra: 20 Years of Beautiful Music (1969) [hr]
1910 Fruitgum Co.: Best Of (1968-70) [hr]
Aaron Neville: A Collection of His Best (1966-2006) [NO]
The Action: The Ultimate! Action (1964-68) [r]
Adam and the Ants: Stand and Deliver- Very Best Of (1977-95)
Adriano Celentano: Best (1975-99) [r]
The Adverts: The Singles (1977-79) [r]
Afrika Bambaataa: Looking for the Perfect Beat (1980-2001) [hr]
Al Green: Definitive Greatest Hits (1967-2007) [hr]
Al Martino: The Ultimate Al Martino (1952-79)
Alabina: L'Essentiel (1996-2000)
Alan Lomax: The Alan Lomax Popular Songbook (1933-59) [r]
Albert Ammons: The Boogie Woogie Man (1936-44) [r]
Albert Ayler: Free Form Jazz (1963-69) [hr]
Alex Chilton: A Retrospective (1967-95) [r]
All Saints: All Hits (1997-2001) [r]
Amos Milburn: Bad Bad Whiskey (1947-55) [r]
The Andrews Sisters: Best Of (1937-50) [hr]
The Animals: Best Of (1964-65) [hr]
Ann Peebles: The Complete Ann Peebles on Hi Records Vol. 1 (1969-73) [r]
Archie Bell & the Drells: Tightening It Up (1967-79) [hr]
Aretha Franklin: 20 Greatest Hits (1967-74) [A+]
B.B. King: His Definitive Greatest Hits (1951-93)
B.T. Express: Best Of (1974-80) [r]
The Beach Boys: Summer Love Songs (1963-71)
Buddy Holly: Greatest Hits (1957-59) [A+]
Cabaret Voltaire: The Original Sound of Sheffield (1978-82)
Chuck Berry: The Great Twenty-Eight (1955-65) [A+]
The Everly Brothers: Cadence Classics- 20 Greatest Hits (1957-60) [hr]
The Everly Brothers: Walk Right Back (Warner Years) (1960-69) [r]
Faces: The Definitive Rock Collection (1970-75) [NO]
Fat Boys: All Meat No Filler (1984-89) [r]
Gene Vincent: Best Of (1956-63) [A+]
Hall & Oates: The Essential Collection (1974-2001) [NO]
Hank Locklin: RCA Country Legends (1956-68) [r]
The Impressions: Definitive (1961-68) [hr]
J.B. Lenoir: Vietnam Blues (1965-66) [hr]
Jack Nitzsche: Hearing Is Believing (1962-79) [hr]
James Brown: In the Jungle Groove (1969-86)
K.C. & the Sunshine Band: Best Of (1974-89) [hr]
Oasis: The Masterplan (1994-97) [r]
Otis Redding: Very Best Of (1962-68) [r]
Ray Charles: Ultimate Hits Collection (1953-90) [hr]
R.E.M.: Eponymous (1981-85)
Sam & Dave: Sweat 'n' Soul- Anthology (1965-71) [A+]
Sam Cooke: Portrait of a Legend (1951-64) [A+]
Smokey Robinson & the Miracles: Ooo Baby Baby- The Anthology (1961-72) [hr]
Taj Mahal: Best of (1967-74) [r]
Talking Heads: Sand in the Vaseline- Popular Favorites (1975-92) [r]
Talking Heads: Bonus Rarities and Outtakes (1975-92)
Van Morrison: Best Of (1965-89) [r]
The Yardbirds: Ultimate! (1964-69) [hr]

BOXED SETS
The Beach Boys: The Smile Sessions (1965-67) [c]
Big Star: Keep an Eye on the Sky (1970-74) [r]
Chuck Berry: The Chess Box (1955-75) [r]
James Brown: Star Time (1956-84) [A+]
Little Richard: The Specialty Sessions (1954-60) [hr]
Phil Spector: Back to Mono (1958-69) [A+]
Sam Cooke: The Man Who Invented Soul (1957-61) [hr]

BOOTLEGS
Oasis: The Early Years (1992-95)

SINGLES & MISC. TRACKS
non-LP cuts: #

LISTS & COMMENTS ETC.
The List of Lists 2012
The Best Records of 2012
Top Artists + Index
The List of Lists 2011
The Best Records of 2011
Top 100 Music Videos + Index
All-Time Top Albums + Index
The List of Lists 2010
The Best Records of 2010
Welcome & Introduction

***

REVISIONS & CHANGES
I had planned to use this space to go through the posts from this blog's first year and make comments on things I have changed my mind about / wish I hadn't said, but actually to my surprise I'm fairly happy with most of it, and the things that displease me are too minor to bother covering and editing at this point. Mainly I wish the review of Joanna Newsom's Have One on Me was less flabby, and maybe less labored in its song-by-song analysis thing; there's also too much concentration on lyrics, I reckon. Newsom's lyrics are great but they're not the reason that is one of the defining records in the last few years of my life. Only three and a half years after its release, that record already brings forth a sea of memories and associations on each revisit; it's very, very hard intuitively to believe it is not a classic album from another era.

I stand completely by the outsized praise of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, even if Yeezus serves as an act of ridicule against the earlier record and may in the end be the (slightly) greater accomplishment.

No, the only thing I really strongly want to change is the "best songs of 2010" list, and then only to switch out a few things that I've already mentioned somewhere else. "Good Intentions Paving Company" is too powerful a noise not to be the crucial selection from Have One; I was too close to it at the time. I'd pick "Alley Cats" as the best of One Life Stand now, and maybe the best Hot Chip song period. And as mad and disappointed as I am at the Surfer Blood trajectory, "Anchorage" is still the song of the decade so far that most reliably puts me in a certain place -- driving and knowing you're headed somewhere, maybe getting into something or getting over it. Oh, and "All of the Lights" over "Runaway," major as the latter is. You might think these choices to hold just as much potential for change as the earlier ones, but I started to turn the corner on every one of these matters just a couple of months after posting the original list, and two years and change have not altered my convictions. (Though significantly, the list was made at a time when I was hearing these albums constantly and nothing else, whereas they've only been pulled out since when I had the itch, so maybe that's a factor.) Anyway, there's no need to make a new list because 2010 will cycle around in the List of Lists before we know it, frighteningly enough.

2010 was a great year and I would have to also mention that because I didn't properly begin my current scheduling process until halfway through the year, I never reviewed The ArchAndroid, High Violet, The Wild Hunt, or Two Thousand and Ten Injuries and that is something I would go back in time and change, because I have no idea when I will slot them in now.

Since I don't usually step out of review context on this blog, let me quickly say that a very large number of the "big" album reviews you might be expecting from me won't be up until November, including but not limited to: Arcade Fire, Janelle Monae, MGMT, Cut Copy, Goldfrapp, and anything that's not out yet. I generally take a vacation from Real Job in November, ignore most of my movie-reviewing obligations, and new music becomes my world: I sink myself into the year's LP releases to review everything I haven't reached yet, listen to some stuff I'm curious about, etc. This year I have to do that in October, which will complicate matters on both the listening and list-making I have to do; it's just too damn early, and it will be harder to embrace a wide enough expanse of what's available.

Coming to the point. There are a lot of albums coming up that will require a lot of research on my part because I don't know the respective artists very well. Therefore, it makes sense to delay bands whose work I'm pretty intimately familiar with until the final string of writeups for 2013. Doesn't mean I won't be listening to these albums well before that. I do like the freedom of not having to be "on time" with anything anymore, and the ability to wait until I know what exactly I think. Hope you understand, etc.

Currently expecting everything to be wrapped up by December 16th, but depending on major releases in the fourth quarter, that could be postponed a little. No later than the 23rd. Thanks for reading, this has been fun so far and I can't believe how many fucking albums have been looked at here, christ almighty.

The Clash: Give 'Em Enough Rope (1978)

(Epic)

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Establishing their lateral movement of punk as filtered through western movies, war mythology and male camaraderie, Give 'Em Enough Rope is by no means the earth-rattling revelation of their debut album or the act of mastery that is London Calling. The Clash's second album tends to be buried now in their discography but was an extremely important moment at the time, having been their first official release in America. (The Clash was initially only available by import.) Now, it's hard not to see it in light of their other records but it remains a pleasurable listen from a band that was seminal in so many ways. Certainly the arrival on record of canonical member Topper Headon -- a more technically accomplished drummer than any other punk group could claim -- represents a leap forward of some fashion, but in general the brief and muddy collection uncovers the hard truth about a confusing moment in the group's life.

At a time when they remained unconvinced of the Clash's marketplace validity outside the UK (and even within it), CBS set them up with producer Sandy Pearlman, known well for a slew of Blue Öyster Cult albums and for -- by some accounts -- turning around the fortunes of the Dictators. Pearlman is a strange choice for the Clash, whose ruthless invention doesn't bend well to the imposition of a uniform sound. Rope contains a good number of songs that would eventually become as famous as any of the unmistakable classics from the band's debut record, but they seem forced here. It's a looser, freer record compositionally but almost oppressively tight in terms of the performances and production.

For instance, a song like "Tommy Gun" that is such a titanic thing on stage, borne out by an enormous number of bootlegs, falls flat here because Pearlman weighs it down with painstakingly overdubbed guitars and an oddly maximized drum sound (supposedly because he hated Joe Strummer's hoarse, histrionic singing). You can hear a great song somewhere in it, but it's overwrought to the point of seeming rather staid, like applying the techniques of a Cars or Raspberries record to an act that never demanded such treatment. The awkwardness is more noticeable yet on the second half, with the spontaneity of "Drug-Stabbing Time" overrun by detail and plod, with the epic aspirations of "Last Gang in Town" buried in self-conscious rockism and the inexplicable hiding of the vocals.

The Clash do their part too, however, to make this the weakest of their first four records by far with a few repetitive and uninspired selections. Having generated an astounding quantity of music in 1977, including an absolutely classic LP and one of the best runs of singles ever managed by anybody, they now dredge up some of the rust: the half-assed "English Civil War," as weird a choice for a single as "Remote Control" had been, just sounds like some external party's idea of what a new Clash single should sound like (a criticism that would later apply to their two biggest hits, lamentably). "Guns on the Roof" is a rerun of "Clash City Rockers," with the city rockers now getting themselves thrown in jail over petty nonsense. And "All the Young Punks" suffers the same fate as "Last Gang in Town": an anthem squandered by Pearlman, except in this case the anthem isn't terribly strong anyway.

The overproduction occasionally has its benefits: the most essential Clash tune here is "Safe European Home," which widens the scope of the first album's coy lashing-out music into what sounds like the end credits theme for some modernist take on The Battle of Algiers, and the usual bitterly funny lyrics to boot. It has a sprawl and enormity that points ahead to the next two albums, and nearly justifies the collapse of the could-have-been-phenomenal "Cheapskates" under the weight of all Sandy Pearlman's emphatic "heaviness."

The other bit of foreshadowing comes in the shades here of the band's later extreme eclecticism. Already more skilled and varied than a lot of their peers, they begin here to prove themselves capable of more than even their greatest champions might have imagined. "Julie's in the Drug Squad" is still a left-field delight after all these years, a rockabilly chronicle of an LSD-ring bust that's overflowing with jokes and, inevitably, more gung-ho enthusiasm than a band like the Sex Pistols or the Damned would ever have permitted. There's that perfectly-timed "hi, man!" after the line "everybody's high-yi-yi"; there is Strummer's "Cruella DeVille"-worthy jibe "she'll even look you in the eye"; and there is, best of all, the line "they arrested every drug that had ever been made." And through it all, the Clash seem to know their way around this wildly unexpected stylistic turnaround like old-world professionals. The song's nearly peppy.

However, the strongest legacy of Give 'Em Enough Rope will probably always be its housing of "Stay Free," the first in a series of Mick Jones-led ballads that would become populist highlights of the records to come. Though it can't quite claim the actual ache of "Train in Vain," this might contain his most moving vocal. Pearlman hangs back and avoids interfering in the forceful, tough-as-nails arrangement that conceals the song's central vulnerability. It's a tribute to a friend who's hopped in and out of jail since his time in Mick's orbit. The intense sentimentality and nostalgia from the very first lines -- "We met when we were at school / never took no shit from no one, we weren't fools" -- is enough to choke you up, and as Jones memorializes more and more about his childhood and his and his pal's divergent directions, it only grows a more moving and deeply felt display. By the time Jones sends out a toast to his buddy in the crowd, even he seems gone, and you can't criticize the song for being goopy because it's so damned obvious that Jones means and feels every word of it. It's as beautiful a ballad about childhood and loss as we were given in this era.

If "Stay Free" and "Safe European Home" were all this album had to offer us, it would be enough, and it is an absolutely crucial purchase for anyone who even casually enjoys the Clash. With or without Pearlman, it's an indispensable building block in their maturity, and even in its false moments, the righteousness and dedication of the band remains a marvel. Sure, buy it after Sandinista!, which you should buy after The Clash and London Calling. We're all lucky this remarkable band made so much music for us to hear; to skip any of it because it isn't London Calling would be a sham and a slur onto oneself.

[SEE ALSO:]
The Clash (1977)

Pet Shop Boys: Electric (2013)

(x2)

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

The best we could've hoped for from Pet Shop Boys' twelfth album (and first not recorded for a major label) was that it would continue their pattern of disappointment followed by rejuvenation. Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe have been making music together longer than most rock bands even dream of lasting, longer than a lot of successful romantic relationships even. And at this point, stagnation would seem an almost natural conclusion, borne out by the bizarre blandness of their final Parlophone record, Elysium, just last year. But it turns out all they were doing was saving the best stuff for their own benefit; this intensely focused, unapologetically modern dance album is their best since the masterpiece Bilingual -- and for any new PSB recording to even stand in the same room as that sobering chronicle of post-maturation, post-AIDS, new-love hangover is an achievement indeed.

Track two, "Bolshy," features some of the same cutesy Tennant tonguetwisting as was so prominent on Elysium and is the sole weak point on this quite impressively economical package, which seals nine grooves into forty-odd minutes and takes each and every one of them to their banging, massive conclusion like nothing since Introspective. Unlike reluctant peers Depeche Mode, these two remain an entity that's ahead of the pack -- rather than shrinking away shyly from the fact that commercial radio, even in the U.S., has caught up with them (which doesn't mean they'll score any hits over here, mind), they embrace this. It's not a stretch to imagine the boldly sustained "Axis" at a trendy club, the staggering "Inside a Dream" or "Thursday" on top-40 radio in a world in which acts ranging from Lady Gaga to Bruno Mars to Ellie Goulding have scored on a distinct four-on-the-floor glitziness and aplomb that was once solely the province of Lowe's beats and Tennant's deeply affected vocals.

The most excellent decision, in a break from the last decade-plus of Pet Shop records, is to stop attempting to court the alternative rock scene. Indeed, the sudden dropping of a such thin and weak aesthetic association implies that it was always an A&R scheme. (And hey, I owe a lot to it, having discovered PSB -- not merely one of my favorite existing groups or one of my favorite dance acts but one of my favorite musical artists of any kind ever -- thanks to the pushing of a few Bilingual tracks to modern-rock radio back in 1996. Atlantic Records probably never saw much return on that investment but the Boys have sold a lot of records to a surly, ostensibly straight white dude from the south since then.) There is no ironic nod or wink to be found here except perhaps on "Love Is a Bourgeois Construct," but even that seems to be more of a nod to Stephin Merritt's work with the way its sarcasm hides a ferocious pain.

The ideas here are hardly new to PSB. "Axis" returns to the arid, almost foreboding artificiality and menace of the brilliant b-side "Some Speculation," and is the group's most fearless album opener ever. "Bourgeois Construct" goes one better on the hidden heartaches of Nightlife. You can hear, in "Thursday," echoes of "Saturday Night Forever" and "Metamorphosis"; echoes of "Rent" in "Fluorescent"; of "The Samurai in Autumn" or "Euroboy" in "Shouting in the Evening"; and of the early bleeding shows of humanity that shocked so many listeners on Actually, Behavior and later Release in the stunningly beautiful "Vocal." And the magnificent Springsteen cover "The Last to Die" brings us back to the wonderful years when PSB was a regular Devo, turning U2 and Frankie Valli into disco queens. In a catalog this rich, though, repetition pales next to consistency.

And it's by looking into their past that Pet Shop Boys find new ways to entertain and stretch themselves, and to move us. No one has done more than this band to establish just how expressively beautiful a house beat and synth punch can really be; how many of those lucky enough to be let in on Tennant and Lowe's secrets can honestly say they have not shed a few tears to "Being Boring," "Your Funny Uncle" or "King's Cross"? Electric creates moments and memories that so clearly belong in that pantheon, and you can feel it happening -- you might not even realize how special a thing that is at first, much as with Leonard Cohen's Old Ideas (an album I thought of as an instant classic and still think I probably underrated) last year.

What seems clearest thus far -- and it's too early to know just how deeply impactful this record will be on its audience, but I suspect it is more of a Behavior or Very than a Fundamental -- is that, on their own terms, Pet Shop Boys have regained their vitality not by an artificial transformation, which has been their dubious tactic so many times before, but by looking squarely backward at what has made them such a remarkable presence in so many lives the world over. What they have done here that surprises me so much is that they have looked at something like the glorious, hedonistic, almost impossibly touching disco-strings hook in the single version of "It's Alright," the time-stopping moment when you feel connected to a whole world of people dancing on the volcano, and somehow expanded it to LP-length.

I remember Chris Lowe talking on the PopArt commentary about how he longed for the old days of great clubbing, and how long it's already been since that commentary was recorded, and how remarkable it is that so many generations down from the silly gesture that was "West End Girls," this pair is still bringing it like a young, fresh to the world group, yet so conscious of the passing years. You know they won't be around forever, but with something like Electric on the table it feels almost like they could be. That the record can stand up so well as both a party record and a private headphones experience is just further indication of how undiminished their expertise and craft are.

But can I sort of hope that "Thursday" -- my anthem of the year, given that the serious relationship I'm in is currently limited to weekends -- somehow gets airplay in the U.S.? I don't want this album to be a Stateside secret for just the few Americans who still love and appreciate Pet Shop Boys. I want its exuberance to be celebrated by everyone. (And okay, I want to have an easier time finding their 12" singles in my record store.) I want the relentlessness of "Inside a Dream" to race through as many bobbing heads as possible. Whether that happens or not though, of course, what does that old song say about the music playing forever?

[SEE ALSO:]
Yes (2009)
Elysium (2012)

J.B. Lenoir: Vietnam Blues (1965-66)

(Evidence)

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

This solid hour of gloriously intimate, eclectic acoustic blues (with occasional drums by Freddie Below and backing vocals by producer Willie Dixon) is in fact a gathering of Chicago giant Lenoir's last two albums, on which -- like so many pre-war blues musicians in the '60s -- he asserts his artistic dominance and continued genius as a performer. These songs skirt all semblance of the then-modern electric blues, instead challenging and concentrating with the joyous agony of Robert Johnson or Mississippi John Hurt, but they are entirely absent of any sense of novel throwback. Instead, their stripped-down nature only makes them more relevant.

Lenoir, with a high-pitched, fevered tone that can render ecstasy (in the classic "I Feel So Good," revisited here) or pain, sings about black poverty and politics and Vietnam, some years before that would become the subject du jour among socially conscious musicians. He would die just a year after recording the last of these sessions, but it's a testament to their power that they completely hold their own alongside the wilder, more boisterous material of Howlin' Wolf. For all the songs' quiet drama and spareness, they are as alive as any lit-up Muddy Waters or B.B. King classic. (For the blues fan who believes the form has never reached a higher plane than the country blues of the '20s and '30s, Lenoir in fact seems the ideal '60s-era musician.)

The contrast of Lenoir's spirited enthusiasm with the starkness of his stabbing, nuanced, never ornate playing style allows his songs to seem strongly a part of a larger blues canon -- and to remain as timeless as a stack of 78's predating these recordings by four decades. It's as though no time had passed, and when he chirps out "every black child born in Mississippi / you know the poor child is born dead," you feel as though it still hasn't. A thoroughly immersive, emotionally wrenching listen.

Justin Timberlake: The 20/20 Experience (2013)

(RCA)

He can reel you in with his sense of invention or genuine eroticism, but Justin Timberlake has yet to truly shake the babyfaced Mickey Mouse Club kid still buried in him singing about being a "ju-ju-ju-junkie for your love," no matter how much of a Jay-Z-level entrepreneur he may now be. As an actor, he's wily and chirpy, a yuppie shrimp-kid of sorts; as a Michael Jackson, he lacks enigma; as a Prince, eccentricity; as a body music titan or a rock & roller, he just isn't dangerous enough.

As a pop genius, well, there's something there; look no further than the gigantic, throttling "Mirrors," a massive hit buried in the back half of this lengthy album that careens out of the tinny speakers at Sheetz like you're suddenly in some cologne-sprayed, risk-clouded nightclub at 2 in the morning as you in reality wait for your jalapeno-stuffed pretzel. "Mirrors" takes radio pop in no particularly new directions, it's just a motherfucking immaculate, perfect, supremely enveloping example of same -- the kind of song, like more than one of Timberlake's previous smashes, that you immediately know you will forever associate with this summer.

The dictum that 20/20 proves all too mightily is that artistic decisionmaking and restraint are the hallmark of a true giant. Timberlake might be a class act in his exchange and cultivation of talent, the guy everyone wants to work with, but he's failed to learn one particular lesson: the fact that some, perhaps many, of your impulses are brilliant -- and boy, are they; does "Suit & Tie" not take you back to some sort of post-adolescent heaven of musical hedonism? -- does not mean that all of them are, and taking these often threadbare grooves, extended bounds through sped-up neo-soul haze that are barely songs at all, off into the next several James Murphy-like pages of ProTools screens until their every twist and cranny is exhausted across eight or nine minutes smacks of desperation: either the desperation of excessive self-confidence or the desperation of no confidence at all. And if he's not afraid to put something as ludicrous as "Don't Hold the Wall" or "Spaceship Coupe" on his album, it's hard to suspect the latter.

Return to "Mirrors" for a moment -- its tight and ecstatic radio edit is just 4:37, stretched to over eight minutes on the record. Ask me which version I'd rather hear right now. Even "Suit & Tie," a complex and hyperactive single already, seems to wear out its welcome in context. We know that either of these cuts have perfection buried in them, and so we can conclude the same about the insanely long "Pusher Love Girl," or suspect the same about something as cutesy and banal as "Strawberry Bubblegum" even if it's hard to see. In the end, quickly comparing this to a similarly structured new album by Pet Shop Boys, Electric, is revealing. PSB will never in their lives again come up with a hook as glorious, persuasive and automatically incisive across the culture as "Suit & Tie," but nor do any of their wildly extrapolating melodies and beats ever start to wear thin. But maybe the feeling of a party that peaks in jabbing, orgasmic moments and is otherwise kind of sickly and uncomfortable is really Timberlake's idea anyway, in which case maybe it's just his conceptual instincts that need fine-tuning. Because I can't think of another album with so many things I like that I nevertheless highly doubt I will ever listen to in complete form again.

Jay-Z: Magna Carta Holy Grail (2013)

(Roc-A-Fella)

This is kinda bad, but kinda not. Its main crime is being pretty much just what you'd expect a modern Jay-Z record to sound like. That is to say, it's the sound of music that one makes when one is in the middle of supervising several global empires, raising a family of superheroes, probably creating fragrances and fashion lines and producing a new version of Metropolis or something I don't fuckin' know, and then getting a conference call from President Obama, Stephen Hawking, Prince and the ghost of Steve Jobs who are all like "Jay, you should make a new album" and Jay is like "lol sure why not." So he goes down to his glass-encased $400 billion chamber full of gold bars that doubles as a recording studio and expends whatever energy he might have to prove he's still a motherfucker, only he kinda doesn't have to because being the most famous person in the world just about everybody knows that so instead he trolls everyone by rhyming "Kubrick" with "hubris" and "two bricks" and saying shit like "my brothers is my brother like my brother is," I think that's what he said.

Thing is it's Paul McCartney syndrome because Jay-Z is a mogul, a superstar, so much more than an entertainer. He's a living icon and he really, completely and totally doesn't have to record a new album for you. If he does, it's largely just to give some statisticians somewhere the ability to say "yes, there he is, still in the pop music marketplace," keeping a foot in, just in case at some point that becomes really important to the guy again. Not that music was only Jay's ticket to the top, but his power and widespread influence make the music he's choosing to write and release kind of redundant. Who the fuck is going to push him to do something crazy or really adventurous, and why should he unless he has the impulse? Magna Carta is an obligatory business decision, something for the year-end tax return, and try as I might, I can't really see a problem with that except that it's a pretty limp listening experience.

It's really not that he is lazy or his performance here is bad, just that it doesn't matter. The relatively relaxed Watch the Throne was a hit to the jugular compared to this, and the contrast of this album to fellow Throne sitter Kanye West's Yeezus is dramatic. West is a chronic fuckup and contrarian who wants to get into people's faces; Jay-Z at this point is just riding high. Even though he's in nearly every sense a more skilled rapper and more consummate performer than West (has anyone contributed more to the modern American vernacular, seriously?), the guy's not interested in taking Yeezus-styled risks. No doubt he could compose a fully chilled-down treasure with little effort. Sadly, the record we get just seems like the compromise of, well, a guy who works in the upstairs office; striving to please the far-ranging audience he's collected, whose tastes and needs vary as broadly as those of any top-level pop performer at this point, he ends up signifying not much at all. He has so much more to lose than West does, or at least he acts like it, and that's our loss.

It's also politics, and capitalism, in action. He can still buy a beat, the best money can buy; he can make the marketing of his record -- released automatically to your cell phone or something if you have a certain plan, fuck all if I have any clue about that stuff -- a bigger story than its content, and he can make it a risk-free investment for all concerned, which I'm sure is lots of people. Again, sounds like I'm being a cynic but I don't blame him a bit. But if he'd only go all the way with this, like he does on the throttling cut "Part II (On the Run)," featuring some singer he married a few years back, and as he did on parts of The Blueprint III: just go for it, man, make a fucking unabashedly slick and showboaty pop album and drop the half-hearted "Juicy"-baiting we-used-to-eat-government-cheese-and-now-we-have-a-Sega-Genesis stuff, and the FBI paranoia and being the "head / o' the / fami-LEE." And maybe smarten up the boasting past "Said I'd never sell a million records / I sold a million records like a million times," which isn't exactly Muddy Waters; good at math, indeed.

But who am I to tell Jay-Z what to talk about? Nobody, that's who. And the glimpses into the guy's life are frankly pretty absorbing. He watches Homeland, loves his wife, rambles a lot, never stuck his cock in the fox's box (or so he says), and probably listens to very cheesy guitar music if "Picasso Baby" is any clue. He's also cheekier and more modest than his blustery lyrics still pretend to, or else it's unlikely he'd take a mumbled back seat to Beyoncé, Frank Ocean, and Rick Ross (who does not justify the center stage with one of his more idiotic verses), or give the floor in the first seconds of the album to the overwrought sounds of fellow top-of-the-world entrepreneur Justin Timberlake. Can't wait to see 'em together on Jack Paar.

Of course, what Jay-Z deems worthy of our attention sometimes suggests that there aren't a lot of people around saying no to him, including himself, but maybe I'm just tone-deaf and "fuck that shit y'all talkin' 'bout / I'm your nigga" is a good way to assert your first album in four years. Maybe warbling along to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" (throw that money where it counts), basically inviting everyone into your probably spotless car with Nevermind in the aux plug while you sing in a traffic jam, wait do you even drive, is kind of a homey and charming thing and not as annoying as it seems. I mean, "Holy Grail" is terrible and great and kind of a rollercoaster and that's a stunt in its way, like having a song that sounds like Baha Men ("BBC") and one whose chorus is "Tom Ford / Tom Ford." Maybe it's just fun to goof off on a break from your day job.

[SEE ALSO:]
w/ Kanye West: Watch the Throne (2011)

James Brown: Star Time (1956-84)

(Polydor)

!!! A+ BOXED SET !!!

Fellas, I'm ready to get up and do my thing. You grow up knowing that James Brown was a giant of soul, popular music, rock & roll, the '60s, the '70s, funk and hip hop. The validity of such an argument is unquestioned because his gift to us is so foundational. It might seem there's no real benefit to double-checking, to making the rounds for youself and realizing the level of his charisma and genius, the revolutionary fervor and continued relentless pleasure of the singles he laid down for decades. You can hear about the Beatles or Chuck Berry all your life and unless you're actually reared on that music, it's only when it really sings directly to you, when the initiative to explore it becomes yours, that its mysteries and magnificence are absolutely clear. Star Time is what brought Brown to me. That, and the experience of seeing firsthand how infectiously his music could light up a dance floor -- how body music is an irreducible art form that he above all provided with a zenith.

Brown is the greatest innovator in all of rock & roll, but why should you be loaded down with hyperbole? It seems faintly silly -- and reductive in terms of genre or, if you like, race -- to consider him in light of what some would call his peers: Otis Redding, Sam & Dave, Aretha Franklin, Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, Wilson Pickett, on and on. Brown's in a different class; for resourcefulness and a stirring need to communicate, he's most analogous to Chuck Berry and John Lennon. For gigantic grandness of performance and impulsive excitement, he has no peer. He is it. Musically alone, his standing apart is simple -- he wasn't a technically magnificent singer, wasn't really a strong or distinctive songwriter in any conventional or classic sense, certainly wasn't a romantic like Cooke or a pained soldier of passion and fear like Marvin Gaye. But Brown danced in ways that made Smokey Robinson and even Sam & Dave seem derivative, tired, ordinary. He was manic by comparison to the previous champions of the manic. Elvis would seem to melt.

He wasn't interested in the silky seductions of someone like Ben E. King -- his task with his Famous Flames was to inflict chaos in rhythm and shake. His barked orders to his band, his histrionic vocal channelings of the grind and rumble in their music, and his sense of constant action, imbued with both sexual abandon and a legendary streak of social consciousness that never would come to feel affected or forced, these portray Brown as the maven of funk who takes charge like the leader of the party, whose chief paradox is that he engineers and mitigates the noise being impulsively generated, never "crafted," but also seems nearly always to be losing himself, to be letting the music itself take control over him. Maybe Curtis Mayfield shared his completeness of vision. Maybe Prince later would. No one in conventional rock music. Why even talk about conventional anything here?

Star Time is a career-spanning collection amounting to four discs and 71 tracks, a handful of them rarities or unreleased items, but mostly hits, smashes, classics, revelations. It is also, to the best of my knowledge, the best boxed set ever released, and one of the few that can likely be classified as a definitive portrait of a great artist; indeed, Star Time almost single-handedly justifies the emergence of the medium in the CD era. For the student of rock & roll and Brown's music in particular, for a novice to his mad-scientist rush and jump factory or to the person who already knows a hefty percentage of these songs and 12" grooves by heart, the set is a fascinating document of consistency -- because the compilers cut out in the early '80s, it never lets up -- and moreover of the evolution and variance in a phenomenal career. The discs are labeled "Mr. Dynamite," "The Hardest Working Man in Show Business," "Soul Brother No. 1" and "The Godfather of Soul," and each is a world unto itself; each can, in fact, be appreciated as its own LP or greatest hits package. All are full of blistering surprises, and all are crucial in every possible way.

But the reason I'd advise everyone to have Star Time on hand is far away from scholarship and closer to the reason I initially bought it. When I started DJing in 2008, I assumed that a Brown collection would be essential and splurged on the big one. I used it a lot, and it invariably brought in the heat, but I couldn't have imagined how much of joy it would bring into my own small apartment for the years to come. Yes, it's an immersive listening experience, but it is utterly flawless for dancing, and it keeps the manic energy mounting all through the night, and its pleasures never once grow stale or repetitive. It's among the most joyous rock & roll experiences you can have the pleasure of knowing that involves neither a live show at a club or a stack of 45's.

A stack of 45's, nevertheless, is pretty much what this box replicates. The way the tracks leap off and electrify in their hot, focused mixes and then relentlessly build on one another is an effective replacement for a sock hop or effectively jockeyed dance party. Despite being a collection of disparate songs, it blends wonderfully and is brilliantly curated. Context can be everything even for music that automatically resists it. Brown's songs might be in their natural state disconnected and separate from one another, but taken together they amount to an accumulated case for greatness, and a party like you've never heard in your life.

The first disc, then, is all soul colors: melancholy, desperation, impeccably arranged horns and shouts. Brown's early records for King are devoted to the illusion of rawness. "Please Please Please" and "Try Me," his two key early cuts, are from some standpoint just impassioned doo wop records, but Brown always has a charisma that bursts beyond all things, and his relationship to the band is always monumentally coy and confident. Though overshadowed in fame by the groveling, sensual "Please, Please, Please" early evidences of his propensity for the boisterous, unstoppable rhythm and propulsion can heard on the otherworldly, quick "Mashed Potatoes, Part 1," the searing "Think" and more than anything the demented deconstruction of "Night Train," which eventually resembles the howling blues at its core less than a manic exorcism. Along the way, Brown can evoke a more straightforward R&B swagger on brilliant sides like "I've Got Money" while never losing his way or violating his temperament; underneath all of this is a sense of steely-eyed purpose manifested initially by the remarkable demos that close out the disc. Early versions of "It's a Man's World," "I Got You" and "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" are all demonstrative feelers unfit for general release but have now the unmistakable breathlessness of history in the making.

That's because as the second disc opens, the legend of James Brown really takes hold. "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" speeds up into the oblivious staccato and barely-logical maneuvering of funk; the recording virtually invents an entire subgenre single-handedly, in two minutes seven seconds. It's followed swiftly by the retitled "I Got You (I Feel Good)," a song so much a part of the culture at this point that one might see little point in actually listening to it, but placed next to its progeny here it becomes a source of richest ecstasy, as was once imagined for it. And "It's a Man's World" is violently refashioned into "It's a Man's Man's Man's World," a nearly chilling piece of alienation, loss and dread somehow fused with a grippingly flowery string arrangement and perhaps the tensest waltz ever put on record. The record captures not the first but arguably the best instance of Brown completely losing himself. "Man's World" was cowrittern by Brown's girlfriend at the time, Betty Jean Newsome, who is said to have intended the lyrics sardonically. In Brown's hands, they're easy to hear as the sexist ravings of a known violent asshole -- let us not mince words -- but also as the wide-eyed ravings of a man at the end of his rope. At the end, when Brown inexplicably wails "He's lost in the wilderness / He's lost in bitterness" just as the track tantalizingly fades long before we're ready, the effect is genuinely disturbing -- and brilliantly economical. It's one of the most conceptually impressive, emotionally effective singles ever released.

Yet we've only started; "Don't Be a Dropout" proves that Brown could do just about anything, including justify shameless didactics through rhythm and passion, and as the '60s wear on, "Cold Sweat" and "I Can't Stand Myself (When You Touch Me)" and the immortal "Licking Stick -- Licking Stick" usher in the years of Brown's nearly supernatural command of the jerking, audacious rhythms of dance music and funk in particular. What marks these records is that they are unapologetic -- often stretching to nine minutes, like "Get It Together," and winding their occasionally melodic, usually just pounding chant-like structures around often incredibly political or sexual lyrical ideas, like "Say It Loud -- I'm Black and I'm Proud" and "Give It Up or Turnit a Loose" -- their immediacy remains astonishing. At any point, night or day, in any place, a James Brown record communicates just what it always meant to -- and the crowd responds as they always would have.

Brown's chutzpah is inconceivable, and across the expanse of this collection he's a wonder to behold. Early in his career he was already upstaging everyone on the bill of a show like that seen in The T.A.M.I. Show, and by the end of the '60s his utter command of rhythm, beat, message, impact is beyond comparison before or since. The Famous Flames were perhaps the strongest band of the '60s, technically second only perhaps to Sly & the Family Stone, but Brown used them to further himself -- and further himself he did, impeccably. His outcries and orders make Archie Bell sound like SSgt. Barry Sadler -- "we're gon' do somethin' funny right here," he announces on "Talkin' Loud and Sayin' Nothing" before unexpectedly stopping the band so he can jerk and mutter a cappella for a few deliriously godlike moments; elsewhere, as on "Sex Machine," he spends more time announcing and programming the proceedings than performing in any conventional sense, hence his emceeing ("can we hit it and quit?") essentially becomes the performance, hence entirely new ideas about R&B and ultimately hip hop emerge.

For these and other, mostly clear reasons, the 1969-72 period covered on the third disc of Star Time is certainly Brown's most innovative and adventurous. The lists of tracks reads like a catalog of all-time classic party anthems; it almost seems irrelevant that they all share a primary artist, performer, composer. "Mother Popcorn," the absolutely glorious "Funky Drummer," the authentically perfect "Get Up (I Feel Like Being A) Sex Machine," the rare song that cannot possibly miss in a dancefloor setting, the fiery and impassioned one-two punch of "Talkin' Loud and Sayin' Nothing" and "Get Up, Get into It and Get Involved," and more yet? Of course -- "Hot Pants," "Make It Funky" and "I Got Ants in My Pants" all capture sounds, tics and beats that would resonate in R&B forever afterward, and Brown reaches a new apex of social consciousness with the hard-hitting "King Heroin," a sobering and more than slightly creepy party comedown (effective partially but not exclusively because it borrows the riff from "It's a Man's Man's Man's World").

That song consists largely of Brown just talking, going on and on rather improbably from the perspective of heroin itself. Though its surrealism is slightly comedic, it serves in large part as a despaired crawling out from under the hedonistic excess of the prior hours. But that interpretation would be such a violation of Brown's central ideas and message, of the real joy to be found in his music. It's appropriate, then, that I expected the final disc of Star Time on first encounter to be probably the comeback malaise that affects so many artists decades on, for "King Heroin" to be the first act in a bland self-improvement regime. Delightfully, the box never quits; even the obligatory "for the kids" cut, the Afrika Bambaataa collaboration "Unity," is no embarrassment. And the finale is piled on with minor classics "My Thang," "Hot (I Need to Be Loved, Loved, Loved)," "Stoned to the Bone," "Papa Don't Take No Mess," and the brilliantly titled "It's Too Funky in Here," but moreover with major hitters aplenty: "The Payback" is one of the best and most influential Brown singles ever, and even it pales across from the balls-to-the-wall triumph "Get Up Offa That Thing (Release the Pressure)," issued so late as 1976 and six minutes of searing, grunting brilliance.

The story of Brown's career is effectively told by Star Time, sure; his increasingly beat-driven output coalesces with his equally blossoming savvy and opportunism, as he becomes clearer on how to flow with the times, to spin the dime of a moment. But this is not an enlightening, revelatory, enrapturing journey because of its historical interest. These songs haven't aged in any meaningful way, and this collection is one of the most impeccably great times you can have listening to music. You owe this one to yourself. And if you already love these songs, this is for my money the very best way to hear them.

[SEE ALSO:]
In the Jungle Groove (1969-86)