Rave homepage urban75 home		YOUR BEST ALBUM - ever! A thread on the urban75 bulletin boards asked: "List one album that you couldn't live without and then write a short piece (under 500 words) to tell the world what it means to you and why it's so precious. It might be an album that you cried to, danced to, laughed to, made fantastic luuurve to, or simply a record that continues to light up your life. It doesn't matter if it's as trendy as the latest Hoxton remix album or as cool as a heatwave, just so long as it's a piece of music that really moved you like only the best songs can..." Here's the best responses so far: Stinky Monkey Where You Been by Dinosaur Jr. From the opening riffery of Out There to the soaring faux stadium rock type of the final track, I Ain't Saying, this album has it all. It even has Start Choppin on it. A song that really is too good to be true. I honestly don't believe there is a duff track on the album. Every track is different, yet has a re-assurringly familiar feel to it. 9 times out of 10 there are more musical ideas on one track than I have had in my entire life. All the riffs are clever without sounding overworked or over-complicated. Sickeningly, all the guitar solos not only work, but make most mere mortal guitar players curse their sausage fingers and lack of talent. There's no Yngwie Malmsteem, 192 notes per minute, fretboard wankery though. These are melodic solos that everyone wishes they wrote because they just sound right. J Mascis has one of those smooth stoner type voices that sounds incredibly soothing. It's nice to hear his drawl contrasting the heavier songs and beautifully complimenting the slower, more mellow songs. There doesn't seem to be any deep message behind the lyrics. At no point did I feel as if they were speaking directly to me. They, just like everything else, work to compliment the songs. It all fits together to make a good noise and that can't be a bad thing can it? I am struggling to put into words how good I feel this album is. The fact that, 8 years after first hearing it, I'm regularly drawn back to it is a testament to it's safety blanket type status in my record collection Nou Camp CHRIST THE ALBUM - CRASS In 1982 Crass released a new LP, "Christ the Album". Forty songs on two records that came boxed in an all-black cover, embossed with the infamous Crass logo on the front. It came with a 30x58cm poster by anarchist artist and Crass member Gee (G Sus). The music was Crass's usual fair - noisy chain-saw distorted guitar, manic crashing drums and angry words spat out by Steve Ignorant and Eve Libertine. This band had truly been there from the beginning, seeing punk emerge as a threat and then nosedive into the shit that was to become "The Greatest Rock and Roll Swindle" of the Sex Pistols and the like. But for me, it wasn't the actual music that changed the direction my life was taking - I already had most of the previous releases on Crass records. It was the 26-page booklet that came with it (written by Crass members) entitled "A Series of Shock Slogans and Mindless Token Tantrums". This booklet told the story of Wally Hope, the guy who was involved with setting up the original Stonehenge Free Festival. He'd already helped the famous Windsor Free Festival, where the authorities had decided they were not going to tolerate a few thousand hippies camping in the grounds of the Royal Family (their capital letters not mine!) and clamped down hard. The booklet goes on to describe the emergence of the Free Festival scene, Crass's part in it, and also the death of Wally Hope, drugged and murdered by the State. For me, it really opened my eyes to the possibility that hey, maybe not everything's okay with the world, maybe there is a secret State out there waging war on anyone who dares stand up and tries to change things. Crass went on to inspire thousands of us (all over the globe) to form bands of our own, pushing a D-I-Y agenda and to live outside the straightjacket of traditional Rock 'n' Roll. Anyway, after first buying that record in 1982 I decided I wasn't ever gonna get a job - I hitched up to London a year later, got involved with squatting, bands, peace camps, anarchism and spent a glorious 16 years (uninterupted) on the dole. In 1998 I was finally forced to get a job and on my first day found out that my new foreman was the son of Crass guitarist Phil Free! Stibs Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables - the Dead Kennedys In my youth, I was a punk/crusty type. Never missed a New Model Army gig (you know the sort.). When I moved to London from Liverpool, 3 years ago, I left most of my CDs at my mother-in-law's house and hadn't heard the Kennedys since. FFfRV reminds me of my time working on fair grounds. We used to play the "crushed little kids" track over the tannoy. The wall of sound guitars just lift you up and carry you along. The bass lines give me goose pimples. In my late 20s I have found the need for quieter music. I listen to Radio 3, for God's sake and avoid Radio 2 because I fear that I might like it. I will be 30 this month. Recently, however, I acquired Xolox and downloaded "Holiday in Cambodia." It was like I was 17 again. I just rode along on that relentless bass. I immediately went out and bought another copy of FFfRV. I play it over and over again. It has become a kind of aural Viagra. Early mid-life crisis anyone? jacksragingsmil METALLICA'S ride the lightning. perhaps it epitomises what i feel was in the air at the time. Maybe it was just spending too much time trying to remember the words, constantly making my ears bleed, blarreing it on my walkman, or to get my head around realising the particular kind of anger that it drew from me, but...man, not many experiences can match the first time i listened to this heavy, gothic and at times somber meld of antatgonistic tunes. A friend introduced this to me in nineteen ninety, first playing the famous FADE TO BLACK to me, and at first, i just wondered "what is this doing to him?". It did'nt seem to me that anyone going through any kind of turmoil in their life, especially at the mid teens, could reasonably contain the kind of AGGRESSION that the album bore, but at tyhe same time, there was a kind of beauty to the construction of the of the ebb and flo of the power cords, and a very unusual harmonic rising from the bass guitar (CLIFF BURTON, WHO DIED IN 1988). IT SCARED ME. It also intrigued me. And it has since been a comfort, at times, to me. Like the best fo friends, it never changed (as albums once made, are never unmade), except to grow in my estimations over the years. a real light, in the glorious past of the now musically anerexic pop rock band, that once reached out to take every convrt on a journey for the land of the free. Galliano: In pursuit of the thirteenth note Review by Chieftain "Lick, roll tear and then they crease, they make each joint a bit of a masterpiece!" It's the only Galliano record I've ever liked and they never surpassed it which is a shame really considering how much I like it - but boy I'm glad they got this one so right! It started when I was about 19 years of age. I stumbled across the excellent smoking themes of this album by chance in a strangers car as I was transported from a rave to a house in a self induced fragile mental state by some new mates I had meet during the night of a Freedom party in east London. As I sat smoking with my new spars we listened to the music and lyrics coming from this hissing C90 cassette tape. In particular "stoned again" and "five sons of the mother" hit the spot and would not leave me, blocking out even the thumping baselines that had been carved on to my eardrums from the previous night. It was a record I had to have! From that day on after a good search through a few Hertfordshire record shops a copy of the Album was purchased, taped (the vinyl dashed for safe keeping) and introduced as a smoking soundtrack for me and my teenage friends as we partied, played and amongst other things generally smoked our way to our early twenties. During this time before we had places to toke we used to go out in to the country side and park up in any secluded spots for a good weed smoking session, this is when the music really came into its own and provided a soundtrack which both warmed and lit up the dark and empty surrounding's of the middle of nowhere on a winters night and added chill to the sunsets and well being of the long summer evenings which always followed. I think I can honestly say I have listened to this at least one of if not all the tracks on this recording on every imaginable type of music player be it tape or record deck, walkman CD player or car stereo, home midi system or party sound system and it always soothed me no matter where or when that may have been. Well after a good decade of taking a weed smoke everyday and what with me nearing the thirty mark I no longer smoke green or party so much but I do still at certain times put on Galliano's "In pursuit of the thirteenth note" to remind myself of the mellow times and friendships I have had whilst also providing a point of reference for the future. In short the record makes me laugh, think, sing and always provides a leveller from which to plan my next move safe in the knowledge that no matter what I will always have some fine memories and the "five sons of the mother to keep me safe from harm". Soul II Soul: Club Classics Vol. One Review by ck I bought the album on tape for my Dad way back in May of 1989 when I still lived in Scotland. I don't think he ever heard it back then as I was constantly paying it, I loved it so much. I moved down to London in August of that year and it seemed to be the soundtrack of the summer. And , what a summer it was ; hot, hot, hot! It seemed to be that pirate radio station was happening in a big way , and with the likes of "Centreforce" frequently playing tunes from the album , it was never far away from my mind. Since then , I have heard the album (or "LP" as they used to be known as kids) umpteen million times and I still can't get enough of it. As with many first albums , there has been nothing from Soul II Soul since which has even touched the sides but I have since bought it on every possible format. Since my Dad passed away , the album has taken on another special meaning and it would be the one I took away with me on that desert island. Pop Will Eat Itself – This Is The Day... This Is The Hour… This Is This! Review by bluestreak's demons Being as Nirvana's Nevermind is too obvious and the Manics' The Holy Bible would show everyone just what sort of teenager I was I've decided to sing the praises of the first record that got me there… (blue thumps his chest manfully). As a child I used to listen to the chart rundown on the radio all the time, and used to record tracks off it to make my own little mix tapes full of whatever pop dross was around at the time, with the occasional bit of hair metal thrown in cos Def Leppard had charted that week or something. Then one week I heard it... PWEI's 'Can U Dig It?' One week on the chart at number 38 but I was hooked. That riff, those cartoony samples, a transformers reference. I listened to that song time and time again, rewinding the tape and listening again until it wore out. What did you do? Well, I saved my pocket money until I could rush to Our Price in Ilford High Road and buy that lovely piece of vinyl that I'd been staring at for weeks. It was every bit as good as I'd imagine, and looking at it now, battered and long-suffering, I have no regrets. Without this I'd probably have never got into good music. It rocked ('Def Con One'), it rapped ('Preaching To The Perverted'), it sampled movies I'd only heard of (Bladerunner in 'Wake up! Time To Die… ', and The Warriors in 'Can U Dig It?') and movies I knew and loved (Transformers The Movie in 'Shortwave Transmission on "Up To The Minuteman Nine"!'). I mean, what could I not love. It had a song about James Brown running from the police ('Not Now James, We're Busy), a song about being chained up and screwed ('Satellite Ecstatica') and lots of drug references. I felt like the most dangerous kid at school, no-one else had ever heard of them and I didn't care. It was 1989, I was eleven, no-one liked me and I didn't care cos I had PWEI on the stereo and had taken the first steps towards enlightenment. Ten years later to commemorate the event I got myself a PWEI tattoo. No regrets, no way. This band were light years ahead of their time. They made pop punk records in 87 that sound like nu-punk does today, they invented nu-metal in 94 and destroyed it again in 95. But this record stands out as their legacy. It was as obtuse as possible, packed with samples and references, shunning the pop tendencies of previous releases whilst avoiding the unlistenable aspects of the industrial scene which they were blatantly ripping off at times. As far as I'm concerned this was one of the defining moments in my cultural life, it influenced everything the young Bluestreak did. Nothing affected me as much until Nevermind. You need to hear this record. Rage Against the Machine: 1st album Review by Red Alex The album that changed my musical outlook was Rage Against the Machine and the self titled first album. I bought it last year and it just blew my mind. Before that I was a shoe gazing indie boy whose record collection consisted of Oasis and Cast etc. But when I bought this my mind opened to both hip hop, hard rock and punk. The way they combine the three genres is just ace, the standout track Killing in the name of is truly a revelation which just rips yer balls off when you hear it for the first time and what a great line "fuck you won't do what you told me" is. Zack De La Rocha's vocals are just great the way he can flip from rap to hard rock screaming in the same song is just great. Unlike many of the later rap metal dickheads, Rage carry off a combination of genres to great effect underpinned by some truly amazing bass playing (as a crap bass player I can appreciate that) and the guitar work of Tom Morello whose work is up there with Page, Gilmour, Clapton etc as one of the great guitarists. Another reason why this album stands out is the raw passion behind it. When zack sings its like a blast of energy because you can tell he means it unlike the Fred Durst's of this world who just whine and pocket the cash of twelve year olds. Probably the best album they ever did and one of the greatest ever. Velvet Underground - White Light White Heat. Review by Wolfie Smith I had my school tie, cap and blazer stuffed in my satchel. The grey flannel trousers and white nylon shirt gave the game away though - I was skiving off school. I was in the town's only record shop leafing through the LPs when I spotted one with black printing on a black background. I was a teenager - what could be more appealing? This was the days when record shops had listening booths, like the telephone "acousti-booths" on railway stations but made out of hardboard. So I asked to listen to the record. I had never heard anything like it. What an amazing noise. Crunching screaming angry mysterious. With lyrics about getting your brain messed up. A story about someone who ends up with a a big pair of cutters through their skull. And a 17 minute song about a drug fuelled orgy with sailors. I was never the same again. I came out of that booth a changed person. In my memory I went straight home, died all my clothes black and left home the next day. I think it probably took a little longer than that but the effect was profound and permanent. This record changed my life although I haven't manage to find a drug fuelled orgy with sailors yet, I still live in hope ... Nirvana: Incesticide All of my favourite pieces of music are only my favourites because I associate them with things. Summer, by Mogwai. I associate that with my girlfriend because I told her to download it when we first began our fledgling internet romance. Born Slippy is the sound of being pilled out of my mind, in a club at 4am, waiting for that comedown to hit. Incesticide by Nirvana always reminds me of my early teenage years. I discovered Nirvana when I was 14. And I fell in love. I still can't put my finger on what it was that appealed to me so much. Maybe it was because it was different from everything else that I had heard on the radio. As my parents may or may not have commented - It wasn't music, it was just noise. The again, maybe it was Kurt Cobain's lyrics. He had that spectacular ability to articulate the thoughts and feelings of millions of angsty, pouting teenagers. To say all the things that you wish you could. His lyrics were clever, funny, and crucially; He made being angry cool. What teenager could resist that? I listened to my Incesticide/Bleach tape constantly on my walkman. It accompanied me wherever I went. Tearing along the streets on my skateboard, getting involved in hopeless teenage romances. At school I would conceal my headphones in my shirt sleeve so that I could listen to Nirvana in class. I imagined that Kurt Cobain would be proud of my petty acts of rebellion. Despite my best attempts, I didn't grow up to be Kurt Cobain. I'm not a famous singer in a band. I think my teenage self would probably be disappointed about that. But perhaps he would be encouraged by the fact that I still occasionally dig out that same Bleach/Incesticide tape and practice pouting in my mirror. Review by inflatable jesus Quadrophenia: The Who Review by Silicon As adolescence dragged me kicking, screaming and crying into adulthood, 'Quadrophenia' provided the only music that knew how to stoke my rage; music and lyrics that I clung to like a frightened cub clinging tightly to it's mother. This music pierced my conscience, it screamed at me, told me to run away, run as fast as I could from the depression, loneliness and confusion that had suddenly snatched me from my idylic childhood. How vividly I remember those tearful summer evenings, when I would sneak out of my parents house and wander for miles, clutching my stolen bottle of vodka, my precious personal stereo, and my beloved 'Quadrophenia' tape. Where I went and who I met I would never truly know. Fuelled by the neat vodka, I would run around in the dark, crying at strangers, weeping under bridges, trying so hard to understand the confusion and misery that had taken me prisoner, often crashing flat on my face on the hard pavement. But always with Pete Townshend's lyrics and dazzling guitar riffs spinning and thudding through my brain. "L-o-o-o-v-e, rain on me, rain on me?" How I ever got home I'll never know. I remember waking up in the mornings, I remember the vomit, the blood, the vodka-burnt lips, the shaking and the pounding headaches that would last for days. I remember the stomach churning guilt when lying to my mother about where I'd been. "Can you see the r-e-a-l me-e-e-e, mother? Mother!!!?" Maybe I identified with the film, maybe just the lyrics; I just didn't know anything anymore. Except that this album 'cared' for me, the music understood me and what I was going through. My bedroom in those days was usually thick with the odour of sleep, loneliness and dead tears, but always filled with the tinny, bashing sound of my personal stereo at full volume, spilling those beautiful, hard songs into my head, one after the other, over and over and over again. "I went back to my mother, I said, 'I'm crazy ma, help me!' She said, 'I know how you feel, 'Cos it runs in the family.'" I was lost in that nasty little vodka-sluiced gutter for a number of years; adrft, directionless, and dangerously lonely. Listening to those same songs today makes me want to forget my early adulthood, not remember it. Yet without them I know things would have been much worse. So I would just like to say, "thanks, Pete". Thanks for being by my side when I was alone and when I needed you most. God bless. A.C.MARIAS: One Of Our Girls (Has Gone Missing) Review by pk I think music is so subjective to circumstance - who you are and where you were at a particular time, how you felt whilst melody played in the background - but the one album that never fails to haunt my very soul is an album by a girl called Angela Conway, released under the name A.C.MARIAS on Mute records. The name of the album is called "One Of Our Girls (Has Gone Missing)" Part of the immediate charm of this album for me is that when I first heard it, the sound was far more distant than intended, as I had only got a copy of it from a friend on an old cassette tape (this was 1989) and it was a poor recording indeed. The dynamics of the LP are such that there are sections of quiet calm reflection, which on an old analog tape just sound like a hiss. The first thing to tell you about it is that it was produced by the people who brought you by the people who created Wire, and assisted by Barry Adamson. It also includes a cover of the track "Time Was" by Canned Heat. The sound of this album is like nothing else you have ever heard. Think the Cocteau Twins, then add some twisted orchestration, a spy thriller, and a lost little girl and you get the picture. The instrumentation is reflective of the relatively early use of sampling, there are slightly awkward loops, and guitar stabs, that have obviously been processed by some rudimentary equipment but this all adds to the LP's brutal magic. Every single track is something special, often playful and innocent, and at other times wilful and sinister. The lyric is of lost love, or new love, the childlike fascination of romance, simple pleasures in simple surroundings. Throughout the album there is Angela's voice, reminding the listener that there are yet secrets in love. It is to me an early style of post-dance chill-out music similar in many ways to Portishead, but instead of hip-hop breaks scratched, there are less derivative sounds that bind the rhythm together. In my mind I am in the ruins of a castle, or a Scottish loch, kissing a beautiful woman whilst the Earth stands still, whenever I hear the slower tracks, and on a colourful street in West London, chatting to friends in the almost hysterical throes of an acid trip whenever I hear the more upbeat tracks. I love this album, not least because I spent eight years trying to find it - because my friend had written "Ace Maria" on the old cassette in error. So it was treasure lost and found. Thank you Angela Conway. Sex Pistols: Never Mind The Bollocks Review by Naked Vole Primper I was 13 when I first heard 'Never Mind The Bollocks'. Previously, my musical tastes had stretched to Adam And The Ants and The Police, both pretty mainstream but with punky roots. I'd seen the Ants live and had been totally blown away by the live experience, the barrage of sound, the screaming girls, the crowd surges. I was into rock 'n' roll. But even then I knew there was something better out there. It was my uncle that recognised this, lending me 'Never Mind The Bollocks'. It had an immediate effect on me. As soon as I heard the jackboot drumming and Steve Jones' sheet metal chords at the beginning of 'Holidays In The Sun' I knew this was what I'd been looking for. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, goosepimples broke out all over my arms and a shiver that felt like a fucking glacier ran right down my spine. Then this whiney, pissed-off sounding fella started singing about 'a cheap holiday in other people's misery' and it happened all over again. I wouldn't feel this way again until a good few years later when I realised I was finally gonna get a shag. Listening to The Sex Pistols for the first time was an awe-inspiring experience for me: the urge to leap around my bedroom, splintering furniture and destroying everything in my wake was almost uncontrollable. I listened to that opening track over and over, not daring to listen to the rest in case it was disappointing. It wasn't: the next song was 'Bodies' and it was hair-on-end, glacial-shiver time again. And I hadn't even got to 'Pretty Vacant' or 'Anarchy In The UK' yet. The amount of rampant profanity was very important to a 13 year old lad, too. I was brought up in a hippy household where the odd 'fuck' or 'bollocks' was acceptable, as was smoking dope, taking the occasional day off school and generally doing whatever the hell you felt like. Creativity was positively encouraged, but only if it conformed to a liberal, hippy doctrine. It's quite hard to rebel in those circumstances but The Pistols gave me an outlet. Sticking 'God Save The Queen' on at top volume tested the limits of my parents' tolerance in ways I'd never before dreamed possible. My folks couldn't relate to it, no matter how hard they tried. Watching my Mum's arsehole of a partner pretend to tap his foot along to 'No Feelings' and watching him squirm at the lyrics to 'Bodies' was heavenly. I once caught him listening to Eric Clapton and quoted my favourite line from 'New York' at him: "You're condemned to eternal bullshit." Wondrous. When you're 13 years old and bored, this is what you want to shout at the top of your voice: Don't be told what you want Don't be told what you need. There's no future There's no future There's no future for you. I fucking love the Sex Pistols. I mean it maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan. There'd be a gap of another 6 or 7 years before I heard another album that would have such a profound effect on me. It had the words 'NeverMind' in the title, too. But I'll leave that one for someone else… Paul Simon: Gracelands Review by wiskey It started off as a cracked, warped cassette kicking around the floor of my parent's car when I was young. I insisted on putting it on at every opportunity, every journey was accompanied by the mix of South African beats, American country and general merriment. Sadly that first cassette disappeared and I moved on to his other albums (particularly Rhythm of the Saints) continuing the endless demands to listen to him for every journey, much to my parent's distress. They tried to get me as involved with music from around Africa and the world, but I was hooked. In 1991 I went to see Paul Simon live, it was my first 'proper' concert and I vividly remember the whole experience. This only fuelled my interest in music from South Africa, I assume that my parents had resigned themselves to a few more years of Paul Simon but they never complained. I managed to obtain most of the original Gracelands album on cassette some years later and actually managed to wear the tape out. By this point I had been listening to Paul Simon for about 8 years and this album was the holy grail, because I had such a rocky history of actually managing to keep a copy of it I decided to buy it on CD. I managed to keep that for about 3 months before somebody 'borrowed' it, I went back to my faithful old copy of Rhythm of the Saints. Gradually I grew into liking other music, my social life exploded and I became a teen of the nineties, my music was now Drum and Bass and Hardcore, but still I kept playing Paul Simon, I used to put it on when my friends weren't around. Eventually I forgot to take it out of the tape deck and someone started listening to it, they really got into it and I bought another copy of Gracelands on CD, everybody wanted a copy of it. I was 17 the next time Gracelands appeared in my life (the previous CD having died an unfortunate death in an incident involving candle wax) and I had just walked into the house of my Danish exchange Student. It was one of those times where you stop, take a deep breath, and look around you… the first thing I saw was a copy of Gracelands and a book on Paul Simon, there they were, just sat on the table. It was a moment of realisation; I wasn't the only teenager in the world to be a bit different. I resolved to get another copy of the CD back home but funds were low, eventually I was given a copy, which I still have. I still listen to it regularly. This album has changed with me, as I have changed my outlook on life the songs have changed too. I still remember the first playing of it after I dug it out from under the car seat. It's still fantastic. Van Morrison: Astral Weeks Review by calum For me it was astral weeks, the old Van Morrison album. I'm tempted to say there may be better ones, or more obscure ones but this one has stayed with me since I was 16. In the throes of a Lou Reed/VU obsession as a gawky indiekid i read Lester Bangs's book, 'Psychotic reactions and carburettor dung' to find out more about Lou. But what struck me was the intense lyricism of his essay on astral weeks. I didn't know much Van Morrison and certainly wouldn't have associated a guy who did a duet with Cliff Richard with the intensity described by Bangs. He finished comparing the opening lines of the album with Lorca's poem stranded. Debatable but I loved the bizarreness of the imagery and the idea of being lost a trying to find a way back resonated in my awkward teenage heart (and still does as i'm little further along that road 13 years later...). So the following sunday I set out for a stroll down the High St to pick up the album (I also bought Patti Smith's horses, which I still love) and bought the record, hoping to hear these strange lyrics. I hadn't really thought about folk or jazz or fusions like that before, being more used to the whine of feedback. but from the first moments the guitar and gentle bobbing acoustic bass kicked in and van's plaintive ramblings rolled over me i was hooked. it took me almost six months to listen to side two properly. And then six months to go back to side one. For me it's got awe inspiring songs but i love it as a whole album. It's a piece of intimacy, of loss and hope of rebirth, of unrequited love, of decay and gardens all misty wet with rain. Listening to it feels like the most personal and poignant journey and it has accompanied mine through some strange times. It's celtic soul and it's universal, though all may not like it. but to record that in 2 days with Miles Davis session musicians at the age of 22 made me stoned in wonder at him stoned in wonder. But I almost never play it in front of people, it feels far too intimate and most of my friends would rather hear something more social. I get embarrassed by the passion I have for this album in the face of people's indifference, but that won't stop me cherishing it. Manuel Gottsching: E2-E4 Review by rubbershoes If I could take only one record to my desert island there is no doubt in my mind what it would be. "Ooh stick you" by Daphne and Celeste is one of the most irritating records ever made and I would rather eat my own foot than listen to it. By contrast, E2-E4 by Manuel Gottsching is so beautiful that eating my own foot may be a pleasant experience if I could do it to this record. E2-E4 is an hour long instrumental track created in 1984. The basic keyboard rhythm is joined by sequenced sounds and guitar that create subtle but simple layers of sound. It gradually builds and then subsides - effortless and entrancing. It has been described as the forerunner of ambient house but it is much more than that. It was a favourite at the Paradise Garage and has been sampled on many dance tracks notably Sueno Latino. "One size fits all" says the scarf seller outside the tube station. E2-E4 matches his superfluous patter. The thematic variation is comparable to J.S. Bach but the rhythm is house. E2-E4 can be enjoyed by both maiden aunts and natty ravers. An hour of bliss. What else would I have played at my wedding? The Prodigy - The Prodigy Experience Review by Spudhead I just can't think of anything that's had more of an influence on dance music in general or me in particular. Even in '92 it defined what rave/breakbeat/tweaks and fucking big bass was about. I was 15 at the time and remember standing in a field listening to Out Of Space and thinking that I had indeed better start paying close attention because this was going to define a lot of what I was about during my teenage years. 10 years on, and it's THE rave album - exactly as originally intended. And it's not only a nostalgic trip back to the days; it's a collection of tracks that are guaranteed to raise the fucking roof in almost any club you'd care to mention. You can put on Out Of Space, Wind It Up, Fire, Charly, Your Love - any of 'em - in with Techno, D&B, HipHop, virtually anything and know people are going to get up and start dancing like fucking nutters. It's what it was, is, and always will be about, and I want it played at my funeral. Really, really loud. The Stone Roses: 1st album Review by STFC Loyal I got into the Roses late, around the time of One Love. When I bought the album and listened to it for the first time, I was filled with regret - why hadn't I been into them from the start, why hadn't I bought everything they had ever done, why hadn't I been to see them live? Never before had I listened to an album which was virtually perfect - most have 3 or 4 good tracks and that's it - and without the backwards version of Waterfall (a brave move but doesn't do it for me) and Elizabeth, My Dear (not my cup of tea politically) the word "virtually" would have been surplus to requirements. From Mani's plodding bass on the intro to I Wanna Be Adored to the last bars of I Am The Resurrection, The Stone Roses give you everything anyone could ever want from an album. Love, hate, joy, sadness, introspection, arrogance...you name it, it's all in there somewhere, all held together by some of the best bass playing, drumming, guitar work, lyrics and vocals (Ian Brown could never be described as the greatest singer of all time, but who else could possibly have sung these songs?) ever recorded. This is without a doubt my favourite record, and one which I never tire of hearing. It still sounds as good now as it did the first time I heard it, but even now, I am still left with those same feelings of regret. The Clash: London Calling Review by Kaka Tim This record grabbed me from the first time I heard it as a spotty 12 year old - right from the peerless intro of the very first track. This was music with something to say, it was insistent and fizzing with desperate energy. What was it they were trying to get across? I couldn't quite make it out but they were seemed to be pretty down on governments and cops and that was O.K by me - although, to be honest, I'd have voted 'Clash' on the basis of the bassline from 'Guns of Brixton' alone. Saved up dinner money for two weeks and then buried my head under the record player speakers whilst religiously following the lyric sheets. I emerged two weeks later with a head full of music - punk, rockabilly, reggae, ragtime, ska and all points in between played with passion and delight. All shot through with pithy lyrics, urban folkstories and what seemed to me in my Essex backwater like communications from the frontline. "London Calling to the far-away towns Now war is declared and battle comedown" Definitively the first item to be saved from my LP collection in the event of a fire. One of the greatest ever record sleeves as well. New Order: Low-life Review by J-Bob I was a mere lad of 13 when I came across this whilst rummaging around my elder brother's bedroom. I recall being shocked by the super loud snare intro to 'Love vigilantes', and finding it hard to decide wheter the lyrics were actually really crap or really good (often a problem with New Order!). It was really my introduction to a world of electronic/rock music, a passion that still follows me today. I loved the variation in tempo, Barney's unashamedly miserable lyrics ("Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you...."), Hooky's melodic bass wanderings, the rhythmic supremacy of Stephen Morris' drum programming and playing, the dramatic washes of synth from Gillian Gilbert. Once you discover one thing a group has produced, you then eagerly devour everything else they've done. Give this, I would say "Power, Corruption and Lies" is their best album, but this was the one I heard first and for that reason its meaning is greater, so it gets top place with me Review by J-Bob Leftfield – Leftisim Review by Sunray Initially I thought thinking of a single album would be difficult, maybe impossible, I like so much music. The question intrigued me and I decided to give some thought to the notion a single album could have qualities that make it somehow better than any other. Then it dawned on me. I discovered Leftisim 5 years ago, its from a time when people were finally mastering the craft of electronic dance music. One of the particular downsides to electronic music for me is that it lacks passion. No amount of effort can replace the sound of a 'band' giving their all to music they love, it's a sound that cannot be created electronically. Paul Daily and Neil Barns never entertained such defeatist thoughts. They have created a series of musical tracks that are injected with such energy and beauty its source is irrelevant. Every time I have listened to this album, I hear something new. There is a baseline or beat that catches your ear and like it or not, you are drawn into another place in which time passes slightly faster. The worst part of this album is that it ends and what an end 21st Century Poem is. When silence fades in there is something missing and its more than just the music. I could never be without this work of genius. Serious Drinking: The Revolution Starts At Closing Time Review by Paulie Tandoori For music to be great, it should touch you, reach out to you, say something that makes sense of a feeling or an energy or an emotion in a way that is otherwise hard to explain. So imagine my unconfined joy when, at the tender age of 18 years, I found "The Revolution Starts At Closing Time" by Serious Drinking. Here was a band who sang about booze, footie, girls and TV, often all in the same song. From the punky drums that accompany "Spirit of 66", a stirring rendition of the names of the England team of that very year with a chorus of "We're gonna win the World Cup in Spain, We're gonna win the World Cup again" (oh well) through to "Weird Son of an Angry Bastard" (pretty self-explanatory), this album takes in some ska-tinged punk-style sing-along shout-along cry-along tunes that still, some 20-odd years later, make me feel happier about the world generally in a way that not much else can. You've got "Love on the Terraces", a paean to a girl called Sharon who our joyous singer met when the match got lively and fighting broke out all around these Romeo and Juliet figures. There's "Countdown to Bilko" about killing time before our favourite Sergeant appears on the box, followed, appropriately enough, by "Really Good Bloke" – sample lyric "He's a really good bloke, he can share a joke" and then the "TV song" all about not paying your license fee (latent anarchist as well obviously). And then, what has up to now been a good album playing well suddenly bodyswerves past two tackles, does a Cruyff-turn and becomes a great album. First, an amalgamation of an old Wire song "12XU" that merges into "Bobby Moore was Innocent" which features the great man himself imparting advice which I sadly failed to heed. As for the lyrics, well, what about "Tina worried sick at home, Bobby couldn't find a phone, News at Ten and Tina heard, Bobby could be doing bird, Bobby Moore was innocent, Bobby Moore was innocent, Bobby Moore was innocent, OK". And then, my first ever encounter with a hidden track. Forget about poncy CD-style hidden tracks, this had no mention on the sleeve but there it nestled, a song called "Hangover". The best song, bar none, on the subject. Our singer wrestles with the fact that he's overdone the sauce, tries to convince himself that he's "gonna stop drinking, I must stop drinking" before exploding into "16 pints of lager, 14 vodkas too, hardly bloody surprising, I forgot what I said to you, hangover this morning, it's dark and it's thick, I've got to give up drinking, I feel so bloody sick". Class. The second side of this fine piece of vinyl is more reflective with it's themes of love lost, listening to the radio, summer arriving and general fun and frolics, and it ends with the mournful "Am I coming over to yours, are you coming over to mine?" Well, are you? Jeff Buckley: Grace Review by loud 1 I stumbled across mr buckley way back in 95,I remember flickinG through tv channels and hearing this song (grace),and I was absolutely gob smacked. At the time I was in my first band and trying to find direction,and I think I found it all in that one song! - the way it builds and builds until the end when Jeff stays holding one note for what seemed like forever. Funny thing is I didn't at the time know who sang it! None of my friend had ever heard the tune or Jeff Buckley, so after a while it just slipped into the back of my mind. Then a few years ago, a female friend played me this album,and up popped that song, the day after i rushed into town and bought the album.....every song blew me away, and not a day goes past that I don't listen to it. I've spread 'the word' of Jeff Buckley onto all of my friend,and it seemed to have exactly the same effect it had on me all them years back. Everyone has at least one song that they can relate too, either happy or sad. But now he's gone,like so many inspiring artists,Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain.... But the memory never goes. Dory Previn: Mythical Kings and Iguanas Review by unclekellan I first heard it at an all night party when i was 13. I had been allowed to go on special dispensation of my parents. I had just co-founded Leicester Youth CND and my co-organiser was a 19yr old student at the Poly. She was having a birthday party and I was allowed to go. My parents were very liberal. I guess most of the people there were in the 20s or 30s as the girl in question was a 1st year social work student and most of the other students were already employed in departments and were doing PGSoc dips. The Mythical Kings and Iguanas album spoke clearly to my state of brain - though a Janis Ian album (the one with 'I learned the truth at 17' on it) comes a close second. I imagine I freaked out quite a few people at the party, but no one was weird to my face. And the girl whose flat it was, sister looked after me. And in the morning - this sister put on the Dory Previn album in question - and we all sang along to the misfortunes of the girl who 'hung herself from the second or third letter O' The album, whilst deleted, has a charm all of its own - and those that know of it, let alone own it - are a little club all of their own. Dory Previn only wrote one other album - Reflections in a Mud Puddle ( I have that as well) and then she met someone, fell in love and announced that she was now so happy and felt good she couldn't write anymore. Her work is/was melancholy and cynical in matters of emotions. Both her albums are nowout of print. Faithless: Reverence/Irreverence Review by Epico 'Wicked' 'Massive' 'Phat' were words I probably used when I hear the club mix of the now classic 'Insomnia' when it was played constantly on Radio One and in the smoke infested under-18 clubs my mates and I used to frequent. I trotted down to some massive megastore in Plymouth and exchanged my cash for this, the first, Faithless album. I was a greasy fourteen-year-old when I brought this album. I was expecting 10 tracks (and 9 remixes) of 'Bangin' choons' - so imagine my displeasure when I got the album home to find that this album was philosophical and earthy, with some very down tempo beats. It took a long time for me to come around to even like this album. But four years on and Maxi Jazz's poignant lyrics coupled with Rollo & Sister Bliss great musical skills and Dido's amazing voice makes this album one of those that I just could not bear to be parted from. Track four 'If loving you is wrong' found fame in a Boddinton's advert (you know the one - the one with the male cow with udders) and I reckon it must rank as one of the best songs to have sex to and remains one of my lead reasons for wanting to have a regular girlfriend. The lyrics on this album along with the lyrics on the other two Faithless albums in my opinion make Maxi Jazz one of the greatest Salva Mea for me is the one that means the most. I have been known to put this track on when I've had a bad day and just lie back and let the euphoric beats and the grounded lyrics clense me of what ever the shit was that's weighing me down. The single line that sums up days like this: 'Just below my skin I'm screaming'. As a bloke trying hard to maintain my macho image I have to say that I have cried myself to sleep listening to this album. It isn't very often I freely admit to crying but this album acts a great emotional release. I don't know how to close this piece, so I'll just say this: I love it Ocean Colour Scene: Mosely Shoals Review by Ich bin ein Mod Came out just as I was getting into music properly (stop laughing at the back!) and provided the soundtrack to my summer. Had the tape player on constantly whilst playing day long games of football up to 20 a side right up till sunset and so even the orangey colour of the cover evokes memories for me. Everyone knows about 'The Day We Caught The Train' and that riff from 'The Riverboat Song'(used by TFI Friday) but the whole album ebbs and flows brilliantly which is shown most by the closing two tracks, 'You've Got It Bad' and 'Get Away'. The first is a fastpaced rocking song full of intricate guitar work by (the most underrated guitarest in Britain) Steve Craddock whilst the latter comes in at eight minutes and gently floats along touching your senses. A truly great album that is even better live. Go see them while you still can. Edited to add: bollocks to all that pretentious shite there are so many reasons why this record means so much to me that ill never be able to properly convey them in words. The 'brilliance of my fleeting mind' can't cope with it. THE CLASH: LONDON CALLING Review by arfy Bit of a tough one this as there are so many albums which have had a huge affect on me at different stages of my life , it could have been the Stone Roses, the LA's, Massive Attack, the Pogues or a dozen others but the one that wins through is London Calling I bought a second hand copy of this in a second hand shop when I was 14 years old, at the time I thought the best bands around were the Smiths or the Jesus and Mary Chain, at the time this was the limit of musical taste in my mates although some of us were just getting interested in electro and hip hop. I discovered The Clash through one of my cousins who used to take me to the match and he had given me a tape with the first album and Give'em Enough Rope on and I had been blown away with the energy and attitude that burned all the way through both albums . One day I was with a couple of my mates looking through the record section of a local second hand shop when I saw the cover , now at this time I didn't know the clash had done any more than what i'd already heard on that tape. I had to have it 'How much mate?', '2 and half quid mate', after a brief begging session with my mates and parting with my ciggy money for the day I left the shop with a pretty battered copy of London Calling The rest is history for me I had never heard anything before or since which has affected ne so profoundly as this double album , every track throws up something different, reggae, ska, jazz, latin rhythms, rockabilly, rock and roll, soul etc etc The album has been with me ever since, getting me interested in politics, history, styles of music i'd never been open to before, its been the soundtrack to my life ever since, but to that year in particular, it was never off my record player during 1985 . the year i discovered London Calling the year i discovered teenage girls the year i discovered drugs the year Everton pissed the league and stormed europe the only one that has never caused me tears has been London Calling ! 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