Last Updated on January 8, 2026 by Christian Adams
If this is your first exposure to my journey through 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die…Or Not, I highly, no, strongly recommend that you browse the introduction before reading any further.
However, I know that many of you aren’t going to click away from this page right now, and frankly, I don’t blame you. “Let’s get on with it,” you say. But hear this: It’s in your best interests to read the next section thoroughly because if you don’t, your feelings might get hurt.
Timeline & Brief Backstory
March 2015
The project kicked off in early 2015, as I started listening to every album listed in 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die by Robert Dimery. The premise was kind of a joke. I needed content for the website, so…
My immediate reaction to 1001 Albums (and anything that tells me I must do something) was sharply negative. “Oh yeah?” I scowled. “Do I really need to hear Miriam Makeba’s 1960 debut album? We’ll see about that.”
1960
The debut album from South African singer, songwriter, actress, and civil rights activist. This record bridged a gap between world music, Afropop, and jazz.
The series was designed to address the “…Or Not” aspect of each album. “Do I really need to hear these albums before I die?” As a lifelong musician, it sounds incredibly narcissistic when I say it out loud, but here we are.
December 2015
Nine months later, I listened to roughly 660 albums (and wrote the corresponding essays) before suspending the series after listening to albums from 1991–1992. Very few people read the essays. Burnout from the grind played a minor role. It was mostly a serious trepidation about listening to the rest of the albums because I think most rock music since 1992 has been total trash—and this is the part where feelings get hurt. We’ll talk about it later.
I never forgot about the Albums project, and it lingered on the site for a decade while the unofficial list drove a small but steady stream of traffic.
March 2025
Coincidentally, I started revamping the site. A friend encouraged me to finish the Albums You Must Hear project, so I picked up at 1993–1994 and published the essay in April. You probably don’t have any idea how much time and effort goes into one of these fuckin’ posts. They’re fun to write, but exceedingly time consuming, and thus, not a priority. So, I didn’t publish another one until November (albums from 1995–1996).
December 2025
I wanted to publish one more before the end of the year, and maybe I’ll continue.
Originally published in 2005.
Revised in 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2013, 2015, 2018, and 2021 to include newly released albums.
The Part Where Feelings Get Hurt
I’ve written several explainers—one here, another here—that shine light on my distaste for modern rock music, but the nutshell is simple: The advent and proliferation of digital technology put incredibly powerful tools in the hands of cavemen, women, and children. Modern music is mostly what I call “button-pushing.”
Be certain that I’m going to shit on many records you probably hold near and dear, and it’s nothing personal. Feel free to call me an idiot or whatever in the comments, as others have done previously. I kinda asked for it, you know?
During the late 1990s, I was a practicing indie rock musician and sometime, erstwhile indie rock music journalist, so I was exposed to plenty of music. At home, I listened to mostly art rock, experimental metal, power pop, post-punk, prog rock, and the occasional psychedelic rock album.
1997–1998: By the Numbers
Here’s a breakdown of my exposure to the albums from the period.
| Never heard of the album or artist: | 4 |
| Never heard the album or artist: | 14 |
| Heard a song or two from the album: | 20 |
| Listened to the whole album: | 5 |
| Borrowed a copy: | 2 |
| Own a copy: | 0 |
Something Different: A New Rating Scheme
In past essays, I relied on an ephemeral color coding and font style theme to delineate the albums between must-hear and not. Moving forward, I’ll be using a star rating and a Yes/No/Maybe scheme.
Albums You Must Hear Before You Die…Or Not (1997)
Blur – Blur (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
Blur’s strongest attribute is their Britishness. They’re an updated version of the Kinks with a punky edge. The second-best thing about Blur is they make Oasis sound like proper students. Blur scored a knockout in the Battle of Britpop, and it wasn’t even close. Put “Song #2” up against anything in the Oasis catalog. Any song.
Bob Dylan – Time Out of Mind (1997)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
It disturbs me to know that there are people on the planet who would not just let Bob Dylan fart directly into their mouths, but they’d pay for it and leave a five-star rating on Yelp!
Critics were practically effervescent when Time Out of Mind was released, but you didn’t hear anything on the radio because it doesn’t contain a memorable hook. It doesn’t even drive past a hook and wave.
Dylan is one of those “I guess you had to be there” artists like Taylor Swift. Unless you were alive during their prime, you wonder, “How was this stuff popular?” and the answer is “I guess you had to be there.”
Suggested Alternative: Emperor – Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk (1997)
Like drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth.
Buena Vista Social Club – Buena Vista Social Club (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Probably |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
If you’re interested in traditional Cuban music and Latin American music in general, Buena Vista Social Club is a must-hear album. Produced by Ry Cooder, the recording features an ensemble of legendary Cuban musicians performing songs in popular Cuban styles such as son Cubano, bolero, guajira, and danzón.
I worked in a restaurant that had Buena Vista Social Club in the house CD carousel, and there was a time when I could sing and translate the words of “Chan Chan” on command.
Limpia el camino de pajas
Que yo me quiero sentar
En aquel tronco que veo
Y así no puedo llegar
De Alto Cedro voy para Marcané
Llego a Cueto, voy para Mayarí
Cornershop – When I Was Born for the 7th Time (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
My goodness, people were pushing this Cornershop album in 1997. I had at least three promo copies, but never actually submitted a review. We’ll talk more about writing for ‘zines in Hole – Celebrity Skin (1998).
When I Was Born for the 7th Time is the weird realization of alternative rock, electronica, and traditional Indian music sounds, e.g., sitar, diholki, harmonium, tambura, etc. Half of the songs have zero association with Indian elements and sound like any other indie rock band. The other half are mainly instrumentals, heavily spiked with Indian flavors and spoken word samples.
Critics (at the time) lauded the album as a “cohesive statement,” but I couldn’t figure ’em out. One track sounded like Weezer. The next sounded like Portishead. The cover of “Norwegian Wood” in Punjabi is quite good. You can really taste the chutney.
Daft Punk – Homework (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Not for all the tea in China, buddy |
| Overall rating: | ☆☆☆☆☆ |
A question for the old folks in the room. What were you doing in 1997?
The former President of the Republic of Kalmykia and longtime President of the World Chess Federation (FIDE), Kirsan Ilyumzhinov, was having extraterrestrial encounters and deep discussions with alien entities. According to Ilyumzhinov, aliens created us and won’t communicate with us until we learn to speak to ants.
We’re supposed to be learning how to talk to ants, but no, we’re out here in space helmets with mixers, samples, loops, and loudspeakers, pushing those fuckin’ buttons. Fuck this music. Adam and the Ants got us closer to communion with our progenitors.
The Dandy Warhols – …The Dandy Warhols Come Down (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
[Sigh.] I mean, on one hand, their major-label debut album is perfectly serviceable indie rock by kids who care about fashion. On the other hand, it’s perfectly serviceable indie rock by kids who care about fashion. God help us if the Dandy Warhols had an Instagram account in 1997.
David Holmes – Let’s Get Killed (1997)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ☆☆☆☆☆ |
Hello, David Holmes. So, you’re a famous DJ, huh? And this is your third “solo album”? I find it especially curious that a DJ can release a “solo album.” Were you in a band of DJs? How does that work? You guys take turns pressing the buttons? Oh yeah, they’re called The Sabres of Paradise! I reviewed them back in 1994, and wonder if they get into fights, like, “My samples are better than your samples!”
I got into an argument with my friend. She said, “So, you’re saying that for someone to be a musician, they have to know how to play a musical instrument?”
And I said, “Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Electronic dance music (EDM) is easy listening for the Prozac Generation. There’s zero intellectual engagement, and that’s the point.
Suggested Alternative: Built to Spill – Perfect from Now On (1997)
The best indie guitar rock on the planet in 1997.
Elliott Smith – Either / Or (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Leaning yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
When the whisper-sung phenomenon of Bon Iver and Iron & Wine appeared on the new indie folk scene in the mid-2000s, I wondered, “Where the fuck did these guys come from?”
Here. They came from this record. And this record came from Paul Simon, and more importantly, Art Garfunkel.
Paul Simon is one of my favorite musicians of all time. He could do everything: write great songs, play amazing fingerstyle guitar, and harmonize with the angel who is Art Garfunkel. As a solo artist, Paul Simon influenced a legion of serious indie rock singer-songwriters like Elliott Smith, who, to a man, missed that one key ingredient: their Art Garfunkel. Somebody with a nice voice to sing their jams.
There are some beautiful melodies on Either / Or and you can hear Smith channelling those Simon & Garfunkel records. If we can imagine Art Garfunkel singing the songs, then it’s a jam. If not, it’s the lo-fi indie folk equivalent of someone who struggles to finish a sentence with a whisper.
Suggested Alternative: Art Garfunkel – Across America (1996)
America’s greatest voice. Hands down.
Finley Quaye – Maverick a Strike (1997)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
Never heard of him. Reggae and dub are acceptable for pool parties and late-night food trucks with a boombox in the side window. I’d have been pissed if somebody dropped the needle on Maverick a Strike in 1997. Today, I’d be mildly irritated. Reggae is background music without the literary sophistication of Jimmy Buffett.
Mariah Carey – Butterfly (1997)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
My theory says that Butterfly was added to 1001 Albums because it’s Carey’s transitional album from a power ballad diva into a more cosmopolitan R&B and urban adult contemporary character. It’s her “butterfly” moment—her first album with elements of rap and hip-hop at the forefront of the sound. Everybody said, “Our Mariah is all grown up now!” as she took control of her career from soon-to-be ex-husband, Columbia Records honcho Tommy Mottola.
Carey is exceedingly talented, but let’s stick to “All I Want for Christmas Is You”, OK?
Suggested Alternative: The Simpsons – Songs in the Key of Springfield (1997)
Who needs the Quik-E-Mart? If you know, you know.
Missy Misdemeanor Elliott – Supa Dupa Fly (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
There was a period in the early 2000s when I drove a lot, and I listened to the Bay Area hip-hop radio station occasionally, KMEL (106.1 FM). Missy Elliot quickly became my favorite rap artist. Supa Dupa Fly is a good example of using technology without losing the heart and soul of artistic expression.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – The Boatman’s Call (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
I don’t enjoy the stylings of Nick Cave or the Bad Seeds, so I’m gonna say that Murder Ballads (1996) is probably your must-hear album. Again, nothing personal. I’ve read some of Cave’s work and it’s just not for me. The Boatman’s Call lost me on the first verse of the first song, “Into My Arms”:
I don’t believe
In an interventionist god
But I know, darling
That you do
Come on, dude…”in an interventionist god“? Did you read it out loud several times before you put it on tape? My fucking word that’s awful. But it gets worse.
But if I did
I would kneel down and ask him
Not to intervene when it came to you
[Deep sigh.] Fuckin’ Leonard Cohen bullshit all over again.
Primal Scream – Vanishing Point (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Not really (see below) |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
Their dandy brand of Madchester electronica has grown on me, kind of. I don’t actively hate it as much as I did in 1997. Vanishing Point is a solid three-star experience, but since Screamadelica (1991) is already on the list…skip it.
Prodigy – The Fat of the Land (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
Hilarious music. The unofficial soundtrack to every catastrophic failure video I’ve ever seen. They had stadiums full of people chanting “smack my bitch up” and I’m not laughing at Prodigy; I’m laughing with them.
Radiohead – OK Computer (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
A landmark album in alternative rock but slightly overrated. There’s a cap on the amount of Thom Yorke’s voice I can hear in one day, and we hit the limit about halfway through OK Computer. It’s a wonderfully inventive and thoughtful record, easily the best rock record of 1997, and possibly the late 1990s.
I’ve never owned a copy of OK Computer. My friend Ronnie loaned me his copy when it came out, so I had it for maybe a week before he wanted it back. The Best of Radiohead (2005) is the only album I’ve ever owned.
Robert Wyatt – Shleep (1997)
| Must-hear status: | No but yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
If you’ve never heard of Robert Wyatt, this is NOT the album you should start with. See Rock Bottom (1974). However, Shleep was co-produced by Brian Eno and brings the authentic art and experimental rock sound.
Robbie Williams – Life Thru a Lens (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Leaning toward yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
I knew less than zero about Robbie Williams in 1997, and still, nothing, in 2015. Since then, I’ve seen Williams on The Graham Norton Show, and he’s a funny chap. I like him a lot. That said, I’m hearing Life Thru a Lens for the first time today, and I must admit, it’s alright. He sounds like Elton John.
Roni Size & Reprazent – New Forms (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Fuck no |
| Overall rating: | ☆☆☆☆☆ |
Come on, people. What are we talking about here? Are we saying, “This is the best 1997 has to offer so you should hear it” or “This album transcends and transforms the [subgenre]”? Roni Size and Reprazent are saying New Forms is something we’ve never heard before. Like nobody’s heard of A Tribe Called Quest or a drum machine. The dude on the mic is splattering the back of the toilet bowl with verbal diarrhea.
Suggested Alternative: The Apples in Stereo – Tone Soul Evolution (1997)
Co-founders of the Elephant 6 collective bring the Beach Boys, the Beatles, and the Byrds to the neo-psychedelic picnic with a lo-fi indie rock twist of warmth.
Sleater-Kinney – Dig Me Out (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★★ |
A landmark album for the riot grrrl movement, and overall, if we’re allowed to forget all the gender identity and associated commentary, an elite serving of unapologetic, sometimes ferocious, American post-punk rock.
Spiritualized® – Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
Have you ever heard of Hawkwind? If not, you should check out Space Ritual (1973).
If you’re into navel-gazing space rock, Ladies and Gentlemen might be your jam. I dunno.
Supergrass – In It for the Money (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
I’m a big fan of Supergrass and their brand of punky British power pop, but they’ve got two albums on this list, and that’s one too many. As I said in the review of I Should Coco (1995), if Supergrass has a must-hear album, it’s In It for the Money. I love this record. My favorite song is “Richard III”. But that doesn’t mean it’s a must-hear. I love plenty of things that most of you don’t really need to hear.
The Chemical Brothers – Dig Your Own Hole (1997)
| Must-hear status: | Under no circumstances |
| Overall rating: | ☆☆☆☆☆ |
Button-pushing at its most egregious. Synchronized dance noise. Absolutely devoid of artistic and/or musical value. Beyond worthless. Now, take your molly go find your friends at Coachella. Leave the vinyl and CD collections here, thank you very much.
Suggested Alternative: The Flaming Lips – Zaireeka (1997)
Zaireeka is unlike anything that came before or since: a high-concept endurance test consisting of four separate CDs intended to be played simultaneously on four different audio systems. In an era of (passive) easy listening, the audience became part of the performance, choreographing a chaotic, psychedelic symphony that shifted and phased depending on the acoustics of the room.
The music itself is a kaleidoscopic hamster wheel of whimsical pop melodies and avant-garde noise, prioritizing the visceral experience of sound over the convenience of a single-disc format. While critics debate its listenability, its legacy as a masterpiece of participatory art remains untouched. Its importance in experimental music lies in how it fundamentally challenged the concept of a fixed recording.
Zaireeka transformed the act of listening into a unique, spatial, and social event, while Dig Your Own Hole kept twisting glowsticks on the dance floor.
For those of us tired of the predictable button-pushing loops of The Chemical Brothers, Zaireeka was a bitter reminder that music can still be a dangerous, multi-dimensional frontier. For some people.
1997
A surrealist experiment in surround-sound and a challenge to the assumptions of recorded music.
The Divine Comedy – A Short Album About Love (1997)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
See my review of Casanova (1996).
The Verve – Urban Hymns (1997)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
I get irritated when forced to repeat myself, but 1001 Albums gave me no choice. This is the second fuckin’ Verve album on the list. It’s probably the one you must hear because the previous album was tiresome, at best. However, if you remove “Bittersweet Symphony” from the equation, they’re just not a great band. No hooks. No melody. Just an Earl Grey bobblehead walking toward me in aviator sunglasses.
Albums You Must Hear Before You Die…Or Not (1998)
Note: I sincerely apologize for the haphazard lack of alphabetical organization in 1998. I don’t know what happened.
System of a Down – System of a Down (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
I’ll say this: Produced by Rick Rubin, System of a Down’s debut album is a solid serving of original alternative metal that doesn’t sound like anything else from the era.
Bob Dylan – The Bootleg Series Vol. 4: Live 1966 – The Royal Albert Hall Concert (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
This fucking guy again? Listen, Bob Dylan is a legend, OK? We get it. But doesn’t he have enough money? Does this mean the record company owns his soul? The bootleg series kills me. These recordings already exist. Anybody who gives a shit about the Royal Albert Hall concerts already has a copy. This is a cynical ploy by the record company to “recoup” the losses. It’s fucking stupid. If they were so concerned about bootlegging, they should have done something to stop it in 1966. The answer isn’t an overpriced box set, 22 years after the fact. A sucker’s bet.
Manu Chao – Clandestino (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
The debut solo album by the former frontman of Mano Negra, a pioneering force in the world of Latin alternative. Chao’s multicultural reggae rock is heavily influenced by The Clash and electronica. He sings in French, Spanish, English, Italian, Arabic, Catalan, Galician, Portuguese, Greek, and others.
Billy Bragg & Wilco – Mermaid Avenue (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
It’s impossible to cancel somebody who isn’t part of the program, so I can say this with impunity. Billy Bragg was tedious on his own, but paired with Wilco? Goddamn, how about Kid Rock and Nickelback, so nobody wins?
Turbonegro – Apocalypse Dudes (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
Norway’s answer to the Butthole Surfers (and Cheap Trick) is one of the most entertaining—and controversial—bands of late-century hard rock. Turbonegro’s glorious mash-up of glam, noise, punk, and cock rock finally gelled on Apocalypse Dudes, the follow-up to Ass Cobra (1996). Humor, shock, and human sexuality, all rolled into one Black Flag meets Alice Cooper package.
Fatboy Slim – You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
Fatboy Slim (Norman Cook) is a proper musician (formerly of the Housemartins), so he’s not a total fraud in my book.
A hooker once asked me to dance, but I refused. “What do you have against dancing?” she pressed. I didn’t answer the question, but I thought, “What do I have against dancing?”
I don’t have anything against the art of dance or the act of dancing. Likewise, I don’t have anything against hula hooping or retirement home parkour. I just don’t want to be involved. Don’t wanna do it, and I don’t want to see it (if I can help it).
It has been proposed that before the invention of written languages, dance was an important part of the oral and performance methods of passing stories down from one generation to the next. Today, dancing is stupid.
David Gray – White Ladder (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
I know him now and I’ve since heard bits of White Ladder, but back in 2015, I hadn’t heard of David Gray. And it reminds me of quantum existentialism, how you can sail through life without ever encountering certain bits of information or experience—but still, it’s there.
Lucinda Williams – Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Yes |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
Along with Gillian Welch’s Revival (1996) and the first two Wilco albums, Car Wheels gets credit for putting Americana music (and alternative country) in the coffee shops where hipsters congregate. Williams, et. al paved the way for a wagon train of earnest, pre-World War cosplay folk heroes like the Lumineers, Mumford & Sons, and all that one-piece pajama and union suit bullshit.
Co-produced by Steve Earle, the album is mainly a vehicle for Williams’ songwriting. While I’m sour on 95 percent of country rock, I wholeheartedly support the inclusion of this album on the list and in your record collections.
Pulp – This Is Hardcore (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
Different Class (1995) is the Pulp album you must hear.
Madonna – Ray of Light (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
Dateline: 1998 in Music
“Madonna releases her seventh studio album Ray of Light. The album eventually sells over 16 million copies worldwide. The album received near universal acclaim upon release. Her collaborations with producer William Orbit, as well as her conversion to Kabbalah resulted in a completely new lyric and musical approach for Madonna, which gains her numerous awards, including four Grammy Awards out of a total of six nominations.”
Ray of Light sold 16 million copies? We’re fuckin’ doomed as a society. I understand the appeal of Garth Brooks to a specific demographic, but who the fuck bought Ray of Light? The gays?
Lauryn Hill – The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★★☆☆☆ |
There’s overrated and then there’s Lauryn Hill overrated. At least she showed up to the recording sessions. “Yo, yo, yo, yo…”
Suggested Alternative: Neutral Milk Hotel – In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (1998)
“King of Carrot Flowers Part 1” might be the best song of 1998.
Hole – Celebrity Skin (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Not in this lifetime |
| Overall rating: | ★☆☆☆☆ |
In the 1990s, I wrote for several indie rock music magazines (aka ‘zines) in Chicago. These writing gigs offered limited access to industry marketing materials. Record labels sent promo packages to the magazines, and the editor-in-chief dished them out to the writers. For my very last music magazine assignment in Chicago, ever, the managing editor gave me Hole’s Celebrity Skin and a companion promo disc, The Interview.
In the moment, I pressed the boss, “Dude… Why are you giving me these? You know what I’m going to say. You’ll never get another promo from Geffen (Records) [if you print my review]!”
Grinning mischievously, the editor said, “Do your worst.”
Do Your Worst
My review of Celebrity Skin was predictably negative yet benign. I said the album sounded an awful lot like the Smashing Pumpkins because Billy Corgan co-produced and co-wrote 5 of 12 cuts, and that’s bad news for everybody involved because the Smashing Pumpkins are terrible. Something like that. Completely acceptable rock journalism in 1998. Nobody liked Corgan by that point. However, what I wrote about The Interview was so bad that the editor couldn’t, wouldn’t, and shouldn’t have printed it.
My refusal to “dial it down a little bit” led to an argument and the end of my tenure writing about music in Chicago.
The Interview
In my years of writing for zines and getting ahold of these promo packages, I had never seen anything like The Interview. [It’s a collector’s item today.]1
The CD contains a set of 18 questions answered (mostly) by Courtney Love, queries like:
- “What Did Billy Corgan Do For You, Courtney, On Celebrity Skin?”2
- “Why Do You Think Hole Has Been Able To Always Take A Step Forward With Each Record?”3
Absolute self-serving softball questions from the record label. Nobody really cared about the answers, but Love was riding high on the fumes of her co-starring role in the 1996 film The People vs. Larry Flint.
The Hot-Air Balloon and Crafty References
Love’s responses were beyond self-involved and another level of conceit. I compared her to a hot air balloon, in the sense that somebody’s always gotta be blowing smoke up her ass to keep her afloat. [The editor crumpled in laughter on that line.]
Love’s repeatedly talked about the “craft of songwriting” and “[her] craft,” and it set me off, like fuckin’ off. As a songwriter (I don’t say I’m a good songwriter—remember that), I’ve always bristled at the mention of the word “craft.” Like, needlepoint, wood engraving, and personalized jewelry are crafts.
I wrote something like, “This [person] is over here talking about her craft like she has the hand-eye coordination to knit me a fuckin’ sweater, like Christmas and birthday presents from Courtney Love are handmade goods.” Followed by a two-paragraph theory about her misappropriation or misunderstanding of the word “craft” because her entire career is fraudulent and deceptive, and that’s the meaning we should all be focused on here—she’s crafty.4
Dial It Down a Few Notches
The editor said we could have published the review if it stopped there, but it didn’t stop there. Kurt Cobain was mentioned beyond the pale. In hindsight, the [redacted] bits that crossed the line and triggered the argument were unnecessarily cruel, dark, grotesque, and mean-spirited. But I didn’t give a fuck because the ‘zine didn’t pay for shit.
The editor said, “Man, that’s…too far. Even for me.”
Defiant, I replied, “You told me to do my worst. There it is.”
“Go home, smoke a joint, listen to some Bob Marley,” the editor said, “and dial it down a few notches.”
“Not happening.” And I walked out, and that was the end of that.
If you were going to listen to Hole, it would have been Live Through This (1994).
Mercury Rev – Deserter’s Songs (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Yes but… |
| Overall rating: | ★★★★☆ |
One small step from post-chamber pop into the fringes of experimental art rock, for lack of a better term, into cinematic yet homespun post-neo-psychedelia. Take the Beach Boys and the Band, and mix ‘em with U2, Wayne Coyne, Pink Floyd, and Moondog. Produced by Dave Fridmann, Deserter’s Songs not just “kind of” the Flaming Lips album we didn’t get this year. It’s the fuckin’ Flaming Lips album we didn’t get [see Suggested Alternative: The Flaming Lips – Zaireeka (1997)]
Brutal honesty, I don’t think it’s all that great now that I understand how the sausage is made. Some of it reminds me of Rusted Root. Do you remember Rusted Root’s “Send Me On My Way”? Those gorgeous fuckin’ hippies.
At the time, I, along with everybody in my social circle, thought Deserter’s Songs was THE SHIT. Their debut album, Yerself is Steam (1994) would be my choice.
Queens of the Stone Age – Queens of the Stone Age (1998)
| Must-hear status: | Maybe |
| Overall rating: | ★★★☆☆ |
I wouldn’t call it the Velvet Underground and Nico (1967) of stoner rock, but it (admirably) wasn’t tailored to modern rock radio, and everybody who bought the QOTSA debut album went on to open a weed dispensary in Phoenix.
Air – Moon Safari (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ☆☆☆☆☆ |
Moon Safari is subliminal techno pre-cum ambient noise in the cosmetics department of a major retail store. Fragrances in competition. The odor is gaseous, shiny, chic, and sophisticated. Lounge music for supermodels waiting in line to use the restroom at an after-party.
Suggested Alternative: Jeff Buckley – Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk (1998)
It’s an unfinished, posthumous release, so hold your nose for the stinky stuff. However, Buckley’s cover of prog-epic “Back in N.Y.C.” by Genesis is probably the greatest cover song I’ve ever heard. The greatest cover version of all time. Call it whatever you want.
Korn – Follow the Leader (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★☆☆☆☆ |
My favorite part of nu metal (aka rap metal) is the unintentional comedy rock. If you sit and really listen to Follow the Leader, you’ll hear one of the funniest records since Cheech and Chong went out of business. Granted, it’s not Turbonegro levels of humor, but I’m pretty sure the bass player used to be a roadie for Buckcherry. Now he’s a born again pastor.
Korn is one of the few bands that I hoped were signed to the worst record contract in the history of time. I wanted them to lose money—pay us—every time one of their songs got played on the radio. Now, I thank them for the chuckles. I’m excited to hear one of their jams.
Talvin Singh – OK (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ★☆☆☆☆ |
This guy gained a reputation for playing the tablas, which is something. Quite naturally, he morphed into a drum and bass DJ.
Suggested Alternative: Hooray for Tuesday – The Minders (1998)
The Elephant 6 collective led the earthy neo-psychedelia revival of the late 1990s with albums like Hooray for Tuesday from The Minders. Close your eyes and let the 1960s jangle pop shimmy from the speakers.
Kid Rock – Devil Without a Cause (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ☆☆☆☆☆ |
I’ve been living overseas for nearly one-third of my life—going on 18 years—so I’m not the same fresh-faced rookie anymore. I’ve seen some shit.
The Guilt of Association
When I lived in Taiwan (2008–2018), it was common to feel “shame or embarrassment (guilt) by association” with other expats. For example, when a foreigner made the news for assaulting a bus driver, I thought and sometimes said out loud, “Please don’t be an American, please don’t be an American….” Because I knew the guilt of association, inside and out.
At work, my boss didn’t hesitate. “Did you know that American guy who punched the bus driver?” and I’d say, “No, of course not.”
But I’d get the cold shoulder for a few days until the news cycle refreshed itself. The implication was clear. One bad American = all bad.
Tattoo Face
This one fuckin’ white dude got the traditional Chinese characters for “Taiwan” tattooed on his fuckin’ face. On his face. He posted images on Facebook that went viral overnight.5
The very next day, he got a DUI. The media dug into his past, and uh-oh, this fuckin’ guy recently did a year in a Taiwanese prison for firebombing a Family Mart. It was in the news for weeks. I couldn’t go anywhere without somebody starting a conversation about Tattoo Face, and the questions were endless. Endless, I tell you.
“Look, I don’t know the guy and I don’t know where the fuck he came from. I got nothin’ on this fuckin’ dude. Nothin’.”
Turns out, he was British, but that didn’t matter because all white people were now associated with Tattoo Face.
Boards of Canada – Music Has the Right to Children (1998)
| Must-hear status: | No |
| Overall rating: | ☆☆☆☆☆ |
- https://www.discogs.com/release/4317302-Hole-The-Interview?srsltid=AfmBOorgE_La8EQTHsSAdZ3SqoFuO_0NtbeFWviooFo_jKmHXEaqCOA2 ↩︎
- Love says Corgan is the only person on earth who can “challenge me.” ↩︎
- Because Courtney worked so hard on her craft. ↩︎
- Footnote: A craft is typically something you do with your hands, like woodcraft. There’s a user-end result of your efforts. It doesn’t matter if you put a song on vinyl, tape, CD, paper or plexiglass, the user-end experience is ephemeral. Songs don’t exist in the physical world. You may write a song with your hands (sometimes), but you’ve got nothing to show for it except this three-minute composition that you either have to play live or press a button to hear. ↩︎
- https://www.taipeitimes.com/News/taiwan/archives/2017/10/23/2003680896 ↩︎
