Another 100 Best Albums of All Time List

Part 9: 20-11

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I assume it is clear that I am not bragging when I say that I could talk about certain topics for an extended period of time. While my music knowledge may seem vast on a superficial level, my brain is vacuously dysfunctional in many ways—and I am a mega-dummy when it comes to various life skills like assembling Ikea furniture. When I go on major digressions about many albums, it should also be clear that I am overcompensating for a number of mental defects. My ability to change a tire may be tenuous, but I can plunge into an hours-long stemwinder on why The Blue Album is objectively better than Pinkerton.

We are winding down or escalating to the finale of this series, where we veer into the pastures of unanimously praised all-time classics. It seems like there is an increasing convergence between

Kevin Alexander

’s and my lists. The stakes are high, the takes are spicy, and the comments are lively.

Let’s get into it.

Below, you’ll find my Top 100 Albums (from 20-11) and the reason why I chose them, as well as Kevin’s picks and my response to them. For Kevin’s explanations of his albums and his reaction to my picks, check out his list below (and subscribe to On Repeat!).

Wax Ecstatic: The 100 Greatest Albums of All Time Part #9

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My #20: Nina Simone Sings the Blues - Nina Simone (1967)

Nina Simone is one of the best musicians who has ever walked this earth. She deserves the title of High Priestess of Soul, but on this particular record, she focuses very intently on blues music—which she has covered quite a bit thus far in her discography. On Sings the Blues, the songwriting is quality and her song choices are impeccable. She reinvents “House of the Rising Sun” not just with her singing, but her finesse. The tracklist is remarkably consistent and cohesive. Nina has songs on previous records that are arguably bigger highlights in terms of performance and recordings, but this album is her best in regards to overall flow and experience (and the most enjoyable to listen to on vinyl). There isn’t a single lull, there isn’t a single vibe shift. All the things we expect out of a Nina Simone record are here, but it comes with that next-level conceptual focus and the zeroing in on blues allows Nina’s talents to bring a certain level of nuance to the genre that isn’t as present in many other blues recordings.

Highlights: Do I Move You?, In the Dark, My Man’s Gone Now, Backlash Blues, I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl, Since I Fell for You, The House of the Rising Sun, Blues for Mama

Kevin’s #20: Technique - New Order (1989)

My Take:

Technique is tied with Power, Lies, and Corruption (which I bet will be on Kevin’s Top 10) as my favorite New Order album. On this album, New Order takes the breezy interplay of Brotherhood and drenches it in good Ibiza vibes. It is a blast of sonic presence and represents the perfect synthesis of their abilities as a punk-influenced rock band and as synth-pop pioneers. When it comes to the sound of a broken psyche, New Order never misses a beat.

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My #19: Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) - Wu-Tang Clan (1993)

Bring da muthafuckin’ ruckus! Individual members of Wu-Tang have released albums that are as, or nearly, essential as 36 Chambers—Ghostface Killah’s Ironman, Supreme Clientele, Fishcale; Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, (Parts 1 and 2); Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s Return to the 36 Chambers (Dirty Version); and GZA’s Liquid Swords—but this is where it all began. Wu-Tang transcended hip-hop: Skaters, metalheads, and even suburban Barbie girls were spelling out M-E-T-H-O-D Man and making Kung Fu sounds. 36 Chambers was an essential part of hip-hop’s evolution, as it moved past the Golden Age sounds like the jazz rap of A Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul, and the West Coast gangsta rap like Ice Cube, NWA, and Dr. Dre. As many MCs played a part in reinventing New York’s sound to be tougher and grittier, Wu-Tang’s stood out with nine members spitting over hard-hitting, stripped-down beats, which gives this atmosphere of a never-ending rap cipher.

Since most of this album sounds like a rap battle, it has a specific kind of lyricism: Hilarious insults, cartoony violence, a barrage of brags and non-sequiturs, and cultural references. There’s as much ferocity and testosterone on here as a hardcore punk record. Every member has a distinct style: Ghostface is the most hype and comes to battle with his trademark high-register, GZA is cunning and clever, Raekwon has a raspy delivery and pulls out vivid images of street life, Method Men has a party-time attitude, and Ol’ Dirty Bastard is like a rabid dog and combines his flow with this deranged off-key singing. And this why RZA is a GOATed producer—he accommodated the many styles in the group while bringing it all together to create this raw, grimy, and unsettling atmosphere. Wu-Tang Clan ain’t nothin’ to fuck wit’.

Highlights: Bring Da Ruckus, Shame on a N***a, Clan In Da Front, Can It Be All So Simple, Da Mystery of Chessboxin’, Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing ta F’ Wit, C.R.E.A.M, Method Man, Protect Ya Neck, Tearz

Kevin’s #19: Damn the Torpedoes - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (1979)

My Take:

My two memories of Tom Petty are my dad playing his music non-stop on long road trips for travel hockey, and seeing him close out Bonnaroo in 2013 on top of a nearby Ferris wheel—and he was so shitfaced, he needed to sit on a bar stool to make it through the performance, and he was so shitfaced, he fell off that bar stool multiple times. He has some undeniable stone-cold hits, but I almost feel the same way about Tom Petty as I do about hair metal and Guns and Roses—that you almost had to be there to love it. Damn the Torpedo is definitely Tom Petty’s best album and the most enjoyable front-to-back listening experience. I respect him as a songwriter who could distill a rock song into a three-minute bop, but I can’t see myself becoming more than a greatest hits fan.

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My #18: Hounds of Love - Kate Bush (1985)

Hounds of Love is the ‘80s Abbey Road: Hits in the first half, a small opera in the back. It is definitely weird, but it’s also a breathtaking, staggering, penetrating art-pop masterpiece. Kate Bush draws from synth-pop and prog-rock while remaining wholly distinct from either style. The instrumental textures are dazzling, with traces of classical, operatic, tribal, and twisted pop, which creates an album experience that observes no boundaries of musical structure or inner expression.

Her smash-hit and Stranger Things-revived “Running Up That Hill” brought gender-equality issues to mainstream music. As the track climaxes, weaving in and out of perception, there are manipulated sounds of Kate Bush screaming, as if she’s trying to escape her body, sex, and consciousness. The second-half suite, The Ninth Wave, asserts her vanguard bent. Throughout this sequence of tracks, there are spoken voices, Irish jigs, Gregorian chants, oceanic waves of digitized droning, and twittering birds all colliding in this overwhelming synth-folk symphony. Hounds of Love floats between abstract composition and precise songcraft, Kate Bush was able to occupy the center of pop music without curbing any of her eccentricities.

I don’t care if this is a cold take: Hounds of Love is one of the greatest albums ever conceived (although it could’ve used more baying hounds).

Highlights: Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God), Hounds of Love, The Big Sky, Mother Stands for Comfort, Cloudbusting, Waking the Witch, Jig of Life, Hello Earth

Kevin’s #18: Loveless - my bloody valentine (1991)

My Take:

Loveless is more than just a blueprint for shoegaze—it is a silver-coated bullet into the future, daring listeners to try to penetrate its glorious distortion and challenging any indie/alt-rock band to try and recreate its mixture of moods, feelings, emotions, styles, and innovations. Kevin Shields virtually reinvented the guitar. This record certainly warps and disorients—it took me three or four listens for it to finally click—but its effect is strangely uplifting. It oozes a sonic balm that pulverizes the frantic stress of life. The bookend tracks are mesmerizing and Loveless deserves all its praise and recognition as a seminal ‘90s rock album.

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My #17: Discovery - Daft Punk (2001)

Discovery is the perfect non-pop pop album, and as this sound ripples through the two decades since its release, Daft Punk has altered the course of dance music for the second time. It’s just so damn vibrant and fun. “One More Time” was the soundtrack to prom. Discovery feels timeless; it’s retro and futuristic. A perfect balance between house and pop, the ultimate summer album. An untouchable aesthetic. Unbelievable sampling. Two robots who know the way to my heart. I always found it amusing that Daft Punk considered Homework to be their showing rock fans that dance music is cool album and Discovery to be their showing dance music fans that rock music is cool album.

The first time I heard “Aerodynamics,” I was blown away at the pyrotechnics and how the synth filter opens up and modulates on certain notes. The solo in “Digital Love” is a straight-up Van Halen guitar solo, just with a synth with a phaser slapped on it; it’s also a beautiful song with a wonderfully evocative sentiment. “Voyager” has the most earwormy bassline I’ve ever heard; it could play on loop for hours and I wouldn’t get bored. Every song is perfect, from dance jams like “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” and “Crescendolls” to slower tracks like “Something About Us,” and it’s perfectly sequenced and paced. This is Daft Punk’s best balance between dance and pop, and maybe the best album ever to balance dance and pop.

Highlights: One More Time, Aerodynamic, Digital Love, Crescendolls, Voyager, Face to Face, Too Long

Kevin’s #17: Monk’s Music - Thelonious Monk (1958)

My Take:

Monk’s Music is a definitive jazz album that just missed the cut for my Top 100 list. This tracklist contains some of Thelonius Monk’s signature compositions, but also a stacked lineup: Ray Copeland (trumpet), Gigi Gryce (alto sax), Coleman Hawkins (tenor sax), John Coltrane (tenor sax), Wilbur Ware (bass), and Art Blakey (drums). Hearing the interplay between Coltrane’s playful cat-and-mouse aggression and Hawkin’s smokey essence is a lot of the fun here. This version of “Epistrophy” is the definitive one, and “Abide By Me,” “Well You Needen’t,” “Ruby, My Dear,” and “Off Minor,” are also highlights.

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My #16: Vespertine - Björk (2001)

In college, I would play Vespertine whenever I was trudging through the snow to get to class, smoking a joint with icy fingers and the world all frozen and desolate around me. It feels as huge as the universe, and as small as cells. I don’t want to have a Kid A/Pitchfork moment, but I fucking love this album more than I can even understand. Vespertine is quiet and delicate but still an incredibly detailed piece of electronic production full of tiny loops and swells and chilling beauty.

The opening stretch of this album up through “Pagan Poetry” is fantastic, the ending of “Harm of Will” is heartwrenching, and the choruses of “Aurora” and “Unison” are some of my favorite melodies. The lyrics on “Cocoon” are brutally sincere, and many other artists go for suggestion or innuendo or even more commonly focus on the build-up to sex, but Björk straight-up describes the mechanics of coitus in a way that isn’t gross, but beautiful. This album walks an unbelievably thin line between saccharine sentimentality and cold anatomy, and she conjures the best description of erōs I’ve ever heard. It never verges into embarrassing, TMI territory. The gentle melodic interlace and subtle drums also help.

I get why Homogenic is considered Björk’s quintessential album—and it is a masterpiece—but if you are interested in lushly orchestrated, immaculately produced, gorgeously written music, it does not get better than Vespertine.

Highlights: Hidden Place, Cocoon, It’s Not Up to You, Undo, Pagan Poetry, Aurora, Harm of Will, Unison

Kevin’s #16: Paul’s Boutique - Beastie Boys (1989)

My Take:

Other than 3 Feet High and Rising and maybe It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, this is my favorite hip-hop album of the ‘80s. Their groundbreaking use of layered sampling changed the way hip-hop is produced. The vocals are smooth and hyperactive, and I’m always blown away by how Ad-Rock, MCA, and Mike D could trade lines and even singular words in rhythm. I’ve always loved the Beastie Boys because they were three dirty punk rockers who realized hip-hop was blowing up and decided it was a natural extension of punk. They never lost the punk ethos but adopted the hip-hop environment like they were born in it. Paul’s Boutique was ahead of its time; its lack of commercial success compared to Licensed to Ill is hardly an indictment of its quality. This is their magnum opus.

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My #15: Illmatic - Nas (1994)

Exactly what the world needs, another review of Illmatic. Next, we should check in on Stephen A. Smith’s thoughts on whether Michael Jordan was a good basketball player. The opening verse of “N.Y. State of Mind” is arguably the greatest in hip-hop history, and the fact that it was done in one take is mind-blowing. “Represent” has these icy synths that make me feel like I’m walking through New York on a frigid January morning and I can hear the frosty breath coming off the gang vocals on the hook.

In the years leading up to Illmatic, the West Coast was delivering its share of vulgar, violent, tooth-gnashed albums like The Chronic, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted, and Straight Outta Compton. New York MCs responded with detailed storytelling and vivid wordplay. Illmatic is the pinnacle of an honest depiction of dismal ghetto life, the Queens lifestyle is the harsh antithesis without any resorting to sensationalism or misogyny. Nas balances limitations and possibilities, distinguishes hurdles and springboards, and respects and criticizes the violence around him. Illmatic is considered the greatest hip-hop LP ever made not just because it has 10 tracks with perfect beats and flawless rhymes, but because it encompasses everything great about the genre. If every other hip-hop record were wiped off the face of the earth, the entire genre could be reconstructed from this one album.

Highlights: It’s fucking Illmatic, everything is dope.

Kevin’s #15: Ghost in the Machine - The Police (1981)

My Take:

Ghost in the Machine is an interesting Police record because it functions almost like a stepping stone between their more direct early work and the more ambitious direction they’d go on Synchronicity. They streamlined their sound to focus more on their pop side and less on their trademark reggae-rock, and it spawned dazzling hits like “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.” Zenyatta Mondatta is my go-to Police record, but I also love all their albums, so this is a damn fine pick by Kevin.

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My #14: Animals - Pink Floyd (1977)

Me: *looks out at the plane wing from my window seat*
The Wing: 🐷 🐖

I’ve tripped many a balls to Pink Floyd—their music is from another dimension, transcending barriers that very few can. Animals is probably the greatest concept album ever recorded, and it is the anti-Wall in the sense that its story of human duplicity is told through relatively straightforward compositions, rather than an overblown rock opera. It may forever live in the shadow of the more commercially successful The Dark Side of the Moon, but Animals is an extreme, relentless, and downright iconoclastic hunk of music that creates one of those surreal moments in music fandom when you don’t feel like the same person you were before and after hearing it.

You get a full-on dose of Roger Water’s powerful and rousing lyrical imagery, an acute anthropomorphic fantasy that presents the worst elements of our own humanity—packaged in the skins of sheep, dogs, and pigs. Where The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon deal in operatic aggression and fear, Animals makes its mark with dirt-under-the-fingernails cynicism, a piece of well-constructed political program music that illustrates the common smallness that binds and repels us all. “Dogs” is a 17-minute study of the most common of all faults, lazily dispensing bite after venomous bite into the narrow-minded desires that drive us to seize a quick buck and screw anyone who gets in our way; the ending is a bone-chilling audio experience and Roger’s voice sounds like its both suffocating and drowning. All of this is wrapped up in the flaky coating of two hauntingly similar and musically identical tracks casting opposite views of cynicism and hope. This is George Orwell’s Animal Farm drenched in a full-audio acid test, fully spectacular and in full color.

Highlights: Everything

Kevin’s #14: Tim - The Replacements (1985)

My Take:

Well, you’ve already read my take on Tim. At the end of my write-up, I posed the question as to whether the recent Let It Bleed edition is the definitive version or not. I wonder what Kevin has to say, but I included the OG here for comparison as he didn’t specify which was his preferred choice.

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My #13: Nevermind - Nirvana (1991)

I’m happy music discourse has moved past its hipster contrarian-brained it’s not good if it’s mainstream phase and we can all admit that Nevermind rips. It almost seems belittling to call this a grunge record, because Kurt Cobain and company seamlessly assemble hard rock, metal, punk, pop, noise rock, singer-songwriter, and psychedelic.

Few albums have a better Side A than Nevermind, so it’s not shocking that Nirvana’s four singles come from the first six tracks—and even “Breed” could’ve been another hit. Side B is more interesting, and the influences from 80’s college rock shine more on the back half through songs like “Lounge Act,” “Stay Away,” and “On a Plain.” Some will complain that Nevermind is overplayed and overrated, but for a record this mass-disseminated, there are still moments like “Territorial Pissings” and “Endless, Nameless” that are some of the rawest music to make it onto a mainstream album. Grunge can often seem of its time, but Nevermind still sounds fresh; its time-weary context only becomes apparent when you consider all the other bands (ahem, Bush) who unsuccessfully tried to ape Nirvana’s sound.

This album was my gateway, so it holds a special place in my heart. After hearing Kurt Cobain utter, “That was a David Bowie song” on MTV Unplugged, I sought out Bowie’s music obsessively—and likewise for the Meat Puppets. I read everything about Nirvana, so when articles compared them to groups like Dinosaur Jr., Pixies, and Sonic Youth, I started jamming out to them. When Kurt name-dropped a band in an interview, like Black Flag or Os Mutantes, I was absolutely on that shit. Sure, I may prefer In Utero depending on my mood, but I will forever cherish this album for influencing most of the alt-rock that I love—or, at the very least, for being the cannonball that pulverized the chest-beating, coke-blowing, women-objectifying macho image of cheeseball ‘80s hair metal.

Highlights: Everything

Kevin’s #13: Document - R.E.M. (1987)

My Take:

Just for shits, I’d like to see if there is a correlation between when you were born and which era of R.E.M. you prefer. Their run of ‘80s albums is the stuff of indie rock magic, but I’m a sucker for Automatic for the People and New Adventures in Hi-Fi. Anyways, back to Document. Given that it spawned some of the biggest hits of their career, this album cemented their destiny as the only group of the ‘80s college-rock milieu to propel to stadiums and stay there. Document is a leaner, meaner, tougher record than its immediate predecessors—replacing their jangly, sprightly, romantic sound with rougher hard-edged guitars and tenser rhythms. But it makes for a righteous, furious, and ultimately memorable listen.

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My #12: Blue - Joni Mitchell (1971)

The lyrics, “I’m blue. If I was green, I would die,” still haunt me to this day. In all seriousness, Blue is probably the most gutting break-up album ever made. It is incredibly personal, touching, warming, and a bit haunting. If there was ever an album that fits an archetypal mood—namely the feeling of “blue”—this is it. “River” will always encapsulate Christmas-time loneliness. “Little Green” features this incredible back-and-forth between the lyrics and guitar licks, the progression and phrasing. This lyric in “A Case of You” just absolutely bodies the heart: “You said, ‘Love is touching souls’ / Surely you touched mine / ‘Cause part of you pours out of me / In these lines from time to time.”

Blue is overflowing with a sense of melancholy for everything that is missing: Her daughter (whom she had out of wedlock and had to give up for adoption) in “Little Green,” innocence in “The Last Time I Saw Richard,” and connection “All I Want.” Joni Mitchell bleeds diffidence and highlights her emotions with spare notes plucked out on her Appalachian dulcimer. While contemporaries like Neil Young and Leonard Cohen were also pushing the boundaries of what a singer-songwriter could sound like, none of them captured the idiosyncracies that Mitchell did on this genre-defining album.

Highlights: All I Want, Little Green, River, A Case of You, The Last Time I Saw Richard

Kevin’s #12: Heaven or Las Vegas - Cocteau Twins (1990)

My Take:

I assumed Heaven or Las Vegas would place highly on Kevin’s list and this placement did not disappoint. You already know I love the shit out of this album, and if you haven’t listened to it yet, you should change that immediately.

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My #11: Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen (1975)

Bruce Springsteen had the audacity to shoot for an album that sounds like “Roy Orbison singing Bob Dylan, produced by Spector,” and had the skill to pull it off. Born to Run did more than shoot a burgeoning rock legend into superstardom—it also transformed ‘70s rock music while pushing the boundaries of what a singer-songwriter could achieve within rock ‘n’ roll.

This album is a classic, honest musical expression about hope, dreams, and survival. Springsteen describes the Jersey Shore with romantic hyperrealism and unhinged expressionism, like Kerouac with a bottle of red wine in his belly. It transforms a line like “I want to die with you, Wendy, on the streets tonight in an everlasting kiss” from a cringey romantic cliché into something resembling an opera or a ballet. “Jungleland” and “Backstreets” are famously epic and thematic, but the mini-suites “Thunder Road” and “She’s the One” have tinkly intros that build into immense climaxes.

People who describe the album as “overblown” are missing the point; the whole wall-of-sound, white-soul-at-the-opera-house vibe is the intention. Springsteen embodied what it meant to be a down-and-out working-class kid in America who felt disconnected at a time of political turmoil with the Vietnam War and Richard Nixon’s resignation, plagued with stagflation that was pulling the American Dream out of reach. Born to Run is the lost ‘70s, the tense, political, working-class rejection of America’s limitations.

Highlights: Everything

Kevin’s #11: Nevermind - Nirvana (1991)

My Take:

You just read my opinion on Nevermind. This is THE ‘90s rock album.

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And that’s it for this week! Next Wednesday is the grand finale. We’ll be dropping 10-1.

Kevin and I also created a Spotify playlist of one song from each of our album picks. Check it out!

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Our 30-21:

Another 100 Best Albums of All Time List

Our 10-1:

Another 100 Best Albums of All Time List

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