Last Updated on March 15, 2026 by Black Sunshine Media
It started as a joke in late 2014. A friend had a copy of 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die (third edition, 2010, edited by Robert Dimery). Flipping through the pages, I muttered and scoffed. “Oh, come on! You do not have to hear Jamiroquai before you die.”
My friend countered, “You should write a rebuttal for BSM.”
I said, “Yeah, I’ll call it ‘1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die…Or Not.” We had a good laugh.
Joking aside, I ultimately decided to listen to every record on the 1001 Albums list and determine its “must-hear” status. It took nearly six months to get through (start-to-finish) these must-hear albums from 1956 to 1992, when I pulled the plug, 13 essays into the project. I think it was somewhere around 600 of 1,001 albums.
I quit for two reasons. First, I didn’t want to hear the albums made after 1992 because that’s when (I think) music stopped being music. Second, I couldn’t spend another three months on a project that few people were reading. And for a long time, I stopped working on BSM altogether. In a way, the 1001 Albums gambit broke my will.
You win, Mr. Dimery, for the time being.
Analog vs. Digital Eras
The 1991–1992 essay has a big section about how I think the list should be divided into analog and digital eras, because we’re no longer making music. Digital audio workstations put 48-track studios on laptops. In many cases, what people call “modern music” is sound that comes from boxes. It’s not music.
Nirvana’s Nevermind (1991) should be the cut-off for eras. While tracked on analog tape at Sound City Studios, it’s been reported that Nevermind was mixed on Sound Tools, a precursor to ProTools (digital recording software). In 2015, I had a version of ProTools on my laptop that was probably ten times better than anything they had in 1991.
How It Went vs. How It’s Going
I still believe in the separation of analog and digital. Popular music made before 1992 has an organic quality missing from modern music. But as years went by, I regretted not finishing the project. And I realized that great music was released in the early digital era, especially in 1993–1994.
Coincidentally, I decided to revive BSM and update all the old posts, and that got me back in a listening groove. I thought, “Might as well finish the 1001 Albums series.”
The difference between 2015 and today is that I didn’t hear all these albums from start to finish. I’ve heard a good chunk of them already. I listened to parts of each record and let other sources guide my judgment.
Originally published in 2005.
Revised in 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2013, 2015, 2018, and 2021 to include newly released albums.
Table of Contents
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die…Or Not (1993)
Note: Suggested alternatives are from the same year as the contested entry unless otherwise indicated.
1001 Albums Rating Key:
- Strikethrough indicates what you probably think it does
- Green indicates highly recommended listening
- Underlined indicates a questionable but ultimately acceptable record
- Blue bold italic indicates ABSOLUTELY MUST HEAR BEFORE YOU DIE
- Also, anything in Red generally indicates hazardous material
Afghan Whigs – Gentlemen (1993)
I love this record, but I’m reluctant to call it a strong must-hear selection. Call it “probably should-hear if you’re into this kind of music.” I’m into snarling, high-energy, guitar-driven post-punk indie rock with an R&B twist. They were a great live band, too. The title track is an all-time playlist banger. But it gets repetitive near the end.
Aimee Mann – Whatever (1993)
Aimee Mann’s first solo album after leaving Til Tuesday (“Voices Carry”) was a critical darling but didn’t sell. “I Should Have Known” was a minor radio hit. She’d squeeze out another record for a Geffen affiliate (Imago) before releasing music on her own label.
Mann’s a capable performer who’s earned the respect of many musicians, including Elvis Costello. Unfortunately, there’s nothing on this record that screams or even whispers, “Must hear.” Aside from the single, it’s mostly acoustic folk music with a pretty voice.
Auteurs – New Wave (1993)
On the crest of Britpop, the Auteurs also played footsie with baroque pop and neo-glam. Maybe it’s just my mood today, but there’s zero chance New Wave belongs on a must-hear playlist. I was irritated by the third song. Something about the singer’s Marc Bolan impression rubs me the wrong way.
Bjork – Debut (1993)
I’ll listen to anything this lady does—once—but Debut is an enchanting collection of art pop and electropop, and you won’t hear anything else like it. “Human Behaviour”, “Violently Happy”, and “Big Time Sensuality” were big hits in the U.S.
Blur – Modern Life Is Rubbish (1993)
Yeah, but no. Next year’s Parklife (1994) or even Blur (1997) are the must-hear albums from the champions of Britpop. Modern Life is still an adventurous record that’s better than anything Oasis could manage, and you might want to hear it, but I’d hold off.
Dre – The Chronic (1993)
The debut of the G-funk sound was one of the most popular albums of 1993, spending eight months near the top of the charts. Hands down a must-hear album.
Girls Against Boys – Venus Luxure No 1 Baby (1993)
It’s not an offensive or uninteresting record from these Washington, D.C., post-hardcore fellas associated with Fugazi and Touch & Go Records. On paper, I should like them. In practice, the dueling bass guitar sound is monotonous and predictably bottom-heavy. Big Sonic Youth vibes, but the songs don’t go anywhere. They’re like a bar of soap in a dive bar bathroom. I love the idea and appreciate the gesture, but I’m not touching that fuckin’ thing.
Grant Lee Buffalo – Fuzzy (1993)
One of the most underappreciated bands of the 1990s, but still not a must-hear. Their next album, Mighty Joe Moon (1994), is the ticket, but it didn’t make the list.
Ice Cube – Predator (1993)
For my money, Predator is a remake of the excellent Death Certificate (1991). This phase of Ice Cube’s career seems to be “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Even the skits between songs (aka inserts) lack originality.
Jamiroquai – Emergency On Planet Earth (1993)
The album that started this entire gambit. As told earlier, I saw Emergency on the must-hear list and said, “No fucking way.” You won’t miss anything by skipping this potluck of funk, soul, hip-hop, jazz, and disco.
MC Solaar – Qui Seme Le Vent Recolte Le Tempo (1993)
MC Solaar is a legendary French rapper. Two problems here. First, Que Seme was released in 1991. Second, it doesn’t matter how smooth it flows, we don’t speak French. Sorry. I don’t speak French. This is the type of music I hear at rooftop bars in the Poblacion District of Makati.
Nirvana – In Utero (1993)
I hope you’ll listen to this record from start to finish and understand why Nirvana is one of the most disappointing and lackluster multi-platinum rock bands in history. And this record might be one of the finest examples of self-sabotage in rock music. I can’t think of a band that went from the top of the world (1992) to lights out (1994) in a shorter period.
Unhappy with the “slick,” over-produced sound on Nevermind (1991), Kurt Cobain & Co. opted to work with producer Steve Albini (despite objections from management and the label). In Utero is a recording that sounds “more like Nirvana.” Fair enough, and I respect that. But if “Serve the Servants” is any indication, they sound like an average garage band.
I never saw Nirvana live. My point of reference is YouTube. They sounded great on that MTV Unplugged special (see 1994 below). I’ll give ’em credit. Nevermind is undeniable. I don’t like it but I can’t say it sucks. Bleach (1989) has a few good jams. In Utero contains two, maybe three toe-tappers, and the rest is half-baked. Go for the greatest hits collection.
Orbital – Orbital II (1993)
Look, this is a proper electronic dance duo from the U.K., where they’re hailed as champions of EDM (electronic dance music). Just saying that is enough to trigger a seizure.
I’m not going to listen to this EDM bullshit, but as I said about the Afghan Whigs record, you should probably hear this if you’re into techno trance ambient breakbeat.
Paul Weller – Wild Wood (1993)
Based on the canonical infrastructure of the 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die…Or Not essay series, we can point back to earlier work by an artist and say, “Nope. You’ve already heard enough Paul Weller. We gave you two Jam records and Cafe Bleu by The Style Council.”
Wild Wood is a fine record. Fans and critics loved it.
Pavement – Slanted And Enchanted (1993)
I’ve never been a huge fan, but I have nothing but respect for Pavement. The only problem is that we can’t have two must-hear Pavement albums. We can only choose one. This one or Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994)?
Pet Shop Boys – Very (1993)
They were ten years removed from “West End Girls“, and the only thing they got left in the tank is a cover of Village People’s “Go West”.
PJ Harvey – Rid Of Me (1993)
This record might be better than Dry (1992).
Sebadoh – Bubble And Scrape (1993)
I might lose friends over this statement, but, like Billy Joel, the Eagles, and Alice in Chains, Sebadoh is a greatest hits type of band. You don’t need to hear an entire album, but you’d get along just fine with their 10–15 best songs. “Greatest hits” isn’t a bad thing. It means you had some hits.
Sheryl Crow – Tuesday Night Music Club (1993)
I don’t like it, man. I just don’t like it. But goddamn, Sheryl Crow is alright. I’m not gonna listen to this “mainstream rock album” anytime soon, but I look at the track list and scan my memory. I know this record. It’s pretty good.
Snoop Doggy Dogg – Doggystyle (1993)
It’s got “Gin and Juice”, that’s it. You’ll hear Snoop Dog on other records that matter.
(The London) Suede – Suede (1993)
Where neo-glam and British alternative collide. Some people think this record marks the beginning of Britpop. They’re trying so hard to be The Smiths, but they land closer to a whinging T. Rex.
Bernard Butler gets props as an influential guitar player, but he’s no Johnny Marr.
They get another shot at must-hear status with Dog Man Star (1994), but thumbs down on this one.
The Boo Radleys – Giant Steps (1993)
The British music press loved Giant Steps. It’s all over the place with traces of shoegaze, psychedelic pop, country, dub, and experimental pop—sometimes, in the same song (“Upon 9th and Fairchild”).
They’re another band that crushes Oasis, but that’s not a high bar to clear.
The Fall – Infotainment Scan (1993)
What makes this record different than any other record by The Fall?
The Smashing Pumpkins – Siamese Dream (1993)
The production is beautiful. “Cherub Rock” is a modern rock staple. You don’t need to hear the whole album. You could, but you don’t need to.
William Orbit – Strange Cargo III (1993)
You’re going to hear this ambient nonsense at some point in your life. Subway announcements, airline boarding videos on a recursive loop, hospital waiting rooms. It’s what people listen to when they don’t like music but can’t stand silence.
Wu-Tang Clan – Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993)
“Wu-Tang Clan ain’t nothin’ to fuck wit.”
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die…Or Not (1994)
Note: Suggested alternatives are from the same year as the contested entry unless otherwise indicated.
Ali Farka Toure – Talking Timbuktu (1994)
A blend of traditional Tuareg music and electric blues, desert blues originates from the Sahara region of Africa. Ali Farka Toure is the undisputed king of the genre, and Talking Timbuktu is one of its milestones. Does that mean you must hear the whole album? That depends on your taste. But you should at least give the first few tracks a spin. I did.
Beastie Boys – Ill Communication (1994)
There are rare moments in life when you shouldn’t get what you want. Those of us hoping for Check Your Head II had our wishes fulfilled, and maybe that was wrong. Aside from “Sure Shot” and “Sabotage”, most of this record sounds forced. I dunno. Imagine trying to follow up one of the greatest, if not, greatest, hip-hop crossover albums ever made.
Now, what pisses me off about the 1001 Albums is Check Your Head wasn’t included on the list (I added it as a suggest alternative), but they give us Ill Communication? Skip the blockbuster and recommend the mediocre follow-up? Bah. You don’t need to hear this record before you die.
Blur – Parklife (1994)
Here’s where you take the plunge on Blur and Britpop because it doesn’t get any better until we hear Manic Street Preachers.
Drive Like Jehu – Yank Crime (1994)
I love this turbo-charged post-hardcore noise rock stuff, but it’s not for everybody. A whole lot of shouting and screaming is going on. I would call this a “completist listen,” but if you wait a couple of years, At the Drive-In will demand your attention to the genre.
Elvis Costello – Brutal Youth (1994)
It’s never a good feeling to knock or dismiss an artist of Costello’s stature, but how many fucking records by this guy are we supposed to hear? Surely, we’ve had our fill from My Aim is True (1977), This Year’s Model (1978), Armed Forces (1979), et. al.? He’s got six must-hear albums. That can’t be right. It isn’t right. Brutal Youth isn’t a must-hear.
Frank Black – Teenager Of The Year (1994)
Frank Black (aka Black Francis) is the founder and main creative force behind the ultimate alternative rock band, Pixies. His second solo album is not essential listening, but an interesting tidbit about Teenager of the Year is that 14 of 22 songs are under three minutes. Several come in under two minutes.
Suggested Alternative: Frank Black – Frank Black (1993)
His first solo album after the Pixies broke up, and probably the best thing he’s done outside of the Pixies.
G. Love & Special Sauce – G. Love And Special Sauce (1994)
When I moved to San Francisco, I went back to work in the restaurants. At every place I worked, there was one white guy, usually a line cook, who desperately wanted to be black, who identified as black, who listened exclusively to hip-hop, and had his Toyota Camry pimped out like Xhibit was involved.
Green Day – Dookie (1994)
Honestly, I was tickled by the emergence of corporate punk rock, but maybe not in the way you might expect. I cut my teenage punk rock teeth on bands like Sex Pistols, Generation X, and The Clash. I routinely listen to all three today. So, when bands like Green Day and Offspring went mainstream, I was cheering them along. Good for you! Get that bread! I remember seeing the video for “Longview” and pumping my fist.
I’m not endorsing Dookie or praising Green Day’s body of work. I’m just saying I don’t begrudge their success. Finally, somebody got seriously paid for punk rock. Dookie contains several catchy jams. It’s a fun record.
Hole – Live Through This (1994)
Bearing no animosity to Courtney Love, I don’t think she made must-hear music. In terms of alternative rock, Live Through This is hailed as a contemporary classic. You should hear some of it.
Jeru The Damaja – The Sun Rises In The East (1994)
The bastion of omniscience, Rolling Stone, says this record is one of the top 200 hip-hop records of all time, which is odd because I was listening to hip-hop in 1994, but I never heard of Jeru the Damaja. Not even in passing.
On hearing the second track of The Sun Rises, I instantly recognized the rapper’s East Coast hardcore flow and said, “I’ve heard this before! I just didn’t know it was JTD!”
If you like hip-hop, it’s a must-hear. It’s not if you don’t.
Liz Phair – Exile In Guyville (1994)
I feel like anything I might say about this record will come off as sexist or misogynistic, so let me say this. I have a mother, sisters, and a wife. None of them would let me get away with any bullshit. However, Exile in Guyville was the kind of record that made indie rock white boys in Chicago scoff and sneer, “This crap is why girls don’t belong in rock.”
I hated this record when it came out, and I still hate it 30 years later. However, I’m one of a small faction of former indie rock musicians who feel that way. Almost everybody else loves it.
Manic Street Preachers – The Holy Bible (1994)
Not coincidentally, I’m working on a post about the most underappreciated rock bands of the 1990s, and Manic Street Preachers are at the top of the list. I didn’t get turned on to the band or this record until a few years ago, but I’m a full-throated convert now. For my listening dollar, MSP is by far the most appealing of all early Britpop bands. Their uptempo alternative glam punk is right up my alley.
Massive Attack – Protection (1994)
I wonder if the name ‘Massive Attack’ is supposed to be a joke because this record (and just about everything they’ve ever done) doesn’t attack anything. It just paws at your ears like a kitten. Like bossa nova and samba, trip-hop makes me angry. Just why? Do we really need more music for airports and cocktail lounges? This album is particularly offensive because it features the singer from Everything But the Girl.
Method Man – Tical (1994)
It’s funny how East Coast hardcore hip-hop often sounds much more laid back than West Coast rap. I like Method Man, and Tical is a good album, but I think you’re better off sticking with Wu-Tang Clan.
Morrissey – Vauxhall And I (1994)
Another year, another insufferable Morrissey record. The 1001 Albums panel loved this guy, giving him four solo album entries. What a sham. Fuck off. Listen to the four studio albums from The Smiths and forget about Morrissey.
Nas – Illmatic (1994)
The way I remember it, in 1994, if you asked anybody in hip-hop: Who’s currently the best rapper in the game? Seven out of ten would have said, “Nas. And it ain’t even close.”
Nine Inch Nails – The Downward Spiral (1994)
There are few records on the 1001 Albums list that I would rather not hear than this one. It’s an amazing piece of work. I know what it’s all about. “Hurt” is an incredibly moving track. I understand the genius of Trent Reznor. But The Downward Spiral goes to such a dark place, and I’m uncomfortable being there. I don’t need to hear the soundtrack to snuff films and suicide notes.
Nirvana – MTV Unplugged In New York (1994)
I don’t remember exactly where I was when I first saw the MTV special, but I remember being impressed by the cover of “The Man Who Sold the World” (David Bowie) and spending the rest of the time muttering, “What the fuck am I missing? How is this guy ‘the so-called greatest songwriter of his generation?'”
Oasis – Definitely Maybe (1994)
Relax. It’s just my opinion.
I don’t dish out the red font color very often, and I usually have a good reason when I do.
Without begrudging their multi-platinum status, I never understood how such a boring band sold so many records. Every song is the same plodding tempo. The singer has a single-octave range. The guitars are pedestrian, at their most ambulatory. The songwriting is clichéd and obvious. Lyrically? Rain, pain, stain. I thought, “Does the average music listener fall to the lowest common denominator?” The British media calls it “lad rock“.
Oasis was the British precursor to Nickelback, except Chad Kroeger can sing.
Orbital – Snivilisation (1994)
Oh, great! Forty-five minutes of ringtone notifications. Just what we need. Funny thing is, almost nobody had a mobile phone in 1994, so I guess Orbital was ahead of its time.
Pavement – Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994)
This is the Pavement record I keep coming back to. I like every song, which is extremely uncommon for 1990s indie rock records. It also contains one of my favorite rock lyrics of all time, the third verse of “Range Life”:
Portishead – Dummy (1994)
Best use of theremin since “Good Vibrations.”
Soundgarden – Superunknown (1994)
The best hard rock album of the 1990s. Alternative and/or otherwise. I’ll take it two or three steps further. Chris Cornell was the best singer and songwriter of the 1990s, and possibly one of the best guitar players. He wrote most of the riffs. Cornell is one of the few undeniable rock artists, like Led Zeppelin. You don’t have to like him, but you can’t deny him.
(The London) Suede – Dog Man Star (1994)
I used to drink at a dive bar in Taipei where the bartenders controlled the music. One bartender played the same five records every night she worked. Dog Man Star was one of the albums she played during her shift. It took me a few nights and Shazam to figure it out, but it got so bad that I avoided the joint on nights when Trudy was working.
It’s the singer. The music is fine. It’s the singer and his fabricated drama, channeling Scott Walker via Morrissey and a grieving widow. Few things in life are worthy of theatrics on this level.
The Notorious BIG – Ready To Die (1994)
They say Biggie was the best. Who am I to argue?
The Offspring – Smash (1994)
Corporate punk at its finest. Or something like that. “Come Out and Play” is one of the most fun songs since “I Love L.A.” by Randy Newman.
The Prodigy – Music For The Jilted Generation (1994)
Wait. This isn’t the record with “Firestarter”?
The Sabres Of Paradise – Haunted Dancehall (1994)
Another one of my favorite rock song lyrics comes from a hip-hop song, “Without Me” by Eminem:
Tupac – Me Against The World (1994)
Sad. He was hip-hop’s self-fulfilling prophecy.
Feel free to tell me I’m wrong in the comments! Come on, let’s do it!
