Another 100 Best Albums of All Time List

Part 1: 100-91

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I spend a good portion of my newsletter exploring the depths of my neuroses and the generally borked state of the world, and there are times when I feel like it’s a millennial rehash of Peter Griffin’s “What Really Grinds My Gears.” So to add some positive vibes, I’ve partnered with

Kevin Alexander

to explore our Top 100 Albums in a delayed response to Apple Music’s “definitive” list that dropped earlier this year. I’ve become a fan of Kevin’s newsletter, On Repeat, because it’s approachable, he covers a wide range of music (not just in genres, but in championing local acts and up-and-comers), and he’s done an excellent job in cultivating an uplifting community of music fans eager to talk shop and share what earworms are currently circulating in their heads. We collaborated last year along with

Jami Smith

and

Steve Goldberg

in sharing our top albums of 2023 and had a blast, so we thought it would be cool to share our top 100 albums and compare and contrast.

Being from different generations, we were eager to see how our upbringings shaped our musical tastes. I’m excited to see where we deviate and what cool tunes we’ll help each other discover or gain a deeper appreciation of. More importantly, I’m curious to see which albums have transcended time and have a universal appeal.

A side note just to get this out of my system:

Apple Music’s list scanned as an overcompensating inversion to the boomer proclivities of Rolling Stone, as they seem to struggle with accepting that good music has actually been made since 1975, so Apple decided to stuff their rankings with recency bias and Bad Bunny.

They named 1989 (Taylor’s Version)—which was released LAST YEAR—as the EIGHTEENTH greatest album of all time. That’s two spots ahead of Pet Sounds, three ahead of Revolver, seven above Kind of Blue, eight ahead of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, and THIRTY-SIX ahead of A Love Supreme. It’s not even the best version of that album!

They placed Billie Eilish over Kid A, Remain in Light, Disintegration, Dummy, Homogenic, and Is This It—among many others.

SZA’s SOS (dropped in December of 2022) bested The Downward Spiral—which just celebrated its 30th anniversary.

Having no To Pimp a Butterfly anywhere on that list is actual insanity. If Apple Music stuck with the one-album-per-artist rule, I could “understand” choosing good kid, m.A.A.d city over TPAB, but since they’ve blown that up with Radiohead, Beyonce, etc., it makes no sense that a fairly inarguable Top 10 (at least) hip-hop album was snubbed.

Kacey Musgraves’s Golden Hour was the only country album that cracked the Apple Music list, so it’s either implied that they think it’s the greatest country album ever made or they are pandering to the current zeitgeist. Kacey Musgraves is the epitome of a country artist for people who don’t listen to country, or she is to country what Carly Rae Jepsen is to dance-pop: Genuinely good, but also fawned over by people who won’t dig further.

Anyways, before I further regress into my What Really Grinds My Gears tendencies, as with any of these lists (Rolling Stone, NME, Spin, Pitchfork, etc.), getting annoyed by them—or even acknowledging them—is already granting them more significance and authority than they deserve. If you’re a head, these are not for you. Although, those old Pitchfork “Best 100 Albums of [INSERT DECADE]” turned me on to a lot of cool stuff during my teenage years. But I have a standard that I hold myself to when it comes to cultural criticism—if I’m going to rip on someone’s list of greatest albums, I will put my tastes out there and provide my own list so people can get a perspective of what I appreciate. Also, these things are fun to discuss and analyze, even if we’re just doing glorified hairsplitting.

Making ranked lists of the greatest albums of all time is a flawed exercise to begin with: Obviously, there is a canon of albums across every genre and decade that are widely acknowledged as classics or influential, but arguing that one is greater than the other is pointlessly subjective. There are at least an additional 100 albums that could stake a plausible claim to such a list and could’ve easily cracked mine—and maybe after the end of this series, if there’s a demand for it, Kevin and I can cobble together our lists of albums that just missed the cut. But the overcorrection by music critics over the last couple of years from rockism to poptimism has only degraded these compilations into a glazefest of bland mainstream garbage. Only a Swiftie who has no appreciation of music beyond contemporary pop can defend that high of a placement, or fuck, placing a Taylor’s Version on such a list at all.

(If this series mysteriously ends after this installment, it’s because my girlfriend read that last sentence and proceeded to skin me alive.)

Here’s my criteria for a Top 100 list:

I wasn’t too restrictive because I didn’t want myself or Kevin to basically recreate a list that you’d see from any music publication—although I suspect my list will have a fair bit of overlap.

I went for a mix of “objective” standards and personal preference. I kept my list contained to albums that are generally perceived as classics or influential, but I ranked them according to which are my favorites or which have had a profound impact on me.

For example:

What I mean by “objective” standards: As much as I love Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees, I’m not sure if I could make a plausible argument that they’ve had a broad influence on music and culture.

What I mean by personal taste: I’m not a huge metalhead or really into prog, so I don’t feel compelled to include bands like Metallica or Rush—I respect their talents and acknowledge their invaluable contributions to rock music, but they just don’t resonate with me.

Below, you’ll find my Top 100 Albums (from 100-91) 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

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My #100: A Seat at the Table - Solange (2016)

This album could not have come out at a more perfect time to illuminate themes of prejudice and Blackness, just as BLM was entering the national stage and police brutality was becoming unignorable for privileged suburban kids like myself. A Seat at the Table takes cues from dusty soul sides and psychedelic funk, packaging these messages in languid, rich, darkly glimmering beats and Solange’s deft soprano. This album is audacious and outspoken, and the interludes in which her parents talk about their encounters with racism cut deep. The general vibe is lifted by airy, Minnie Riperton–esque thrills and the lyrical topics are an intensely personal testament to the Black experience and culture.

Highlights: Rise, Cranes in the Sky, Mad, Don’t Touch My Hair, F.U.B.U., Don’t Wish Me Well

Kevin’s #100: Gorgeous - 808 State (1993)

My Take:

I’ll admit that I had never heard of this album until this collab, and this is exactly why I’m excited to see where this journey goes (although I already know Kevin’s list could use more Radiohead). I gave this a casual listen on Sunday, and I’m digging the mix of electronic, dance, sax, afrobeat, and house music. I feel like I’m on the basement floor of a Berlin nightclub while lying down in the forest under a star-lit sky. The vibes here are immaculate.

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My #99: Piñata - Freddie Gibbs & Madlib (2012)

I have so many memories of driving around during college with Piñata on constant rotation. Over ten years out, this album feels more like a fan’s classic than a critic’s classic: Maybe it’s not the strongest influence on the sound of hip-hop, but it definitely made a massive impact on greater hip-hop fandom. No skips, hilarious quotables, and flawless Madlib production on every track. The tracklist flows effortlessly, and not only does Freddie Gibbs’s weird, abstract, cartoonish persona shine through, but he also shows how he can adapt his flow to anything. There are also top-tier features from Raekwon, Scarface, and Earl Sweatshirt to enliven the recipe.

Highlights: Deeper, Harold’s, Bomb, Thuggin’, Real, Robes, Broken, Lakers, Knicks, Shame, Piñata

Kevin’s #99: The Blurred Crusade - The Church (1982)

My Take:

For a while, the ‘80s were a bit of a musical blind spot for me, mostly because I was an idiot in high school and associated the decade with hair metal and viewed any good act that came out of that era as an exemption. I’m glad I have overcome that phase to love the Replacements, REM, the Smiths, Prince, and more. And upon listening to ‘80s alt/college rock, I have come across the Church, although I have not given them a spin in a minute. I’m glad I did, as “Almost With You,” “An Interlude,” “To Be In Your Eyes,” and “You Took” are serious gems and have been stuck in my head for days. This album is lush and ethereal, and has a rich, atmospheric production to it. This should absolutely be in rotation for anyone who’s an ‘80s rock fan.

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My #98: Contra - Vampire Weekend (2010)

Up until Vampire Weekend dropped Father of the Bride, this was my least favorite project of theirs. But in 2019, I was sitting on a friend’s balcony in the midst of a magical Chicago summer, and “Horchata” was playing and something immediately clicked. I was lusting for more, and these 10 joyful tunes heavily resonated with me and have since become a summer staple. Contra has risen through the rankings and it remains a definitive statement from one of the most unique bands on the planet. There’s a balance of Upper West Side strings, Jamaican riffs, indie rock, Auto-Tune, cagey rhythms, and stunning pettiness that is reassuringly sweet and strangely moving. Along with LCD Soundsystem, Vampire Weekend is the heir apparent to the Talking Heads, and Ezra Koening’s ability to bask in his privilege while chiding it is enough to warrant recognition as among his generation’s finest lyricists.

(On a side note, I have also recently seen Vampire Weekend described as “millennial dad rock” which is painfully accurate.)

Highlights: Horchata, California English, Cousins, Giving Up the Gun, Diplomat’s Sun, I Think Ur a Contra

Kevin’s #98: Transient Random-Noise Bursts With Announcements - Stereolab (1993)

My take:

Stereolab’s run from this record to Dots and Loops is insane, and you couldn’t go wrong with picking anything from that period for a list like this. Stereolab is THE art-pop band. The idea of finding romance in an incidental machine sound is Stereolab in a nutshell, and it’s what makes this project such an entrancing listen. It’s a postmodern recycling of 1960s kitsch and analog sound effects, and they created a truly idiosyncratic kind of pop music.

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My #97: Titanic Rising - Weyes Blood (2019)

My general rule of thumb for judging whether an album is a classic is to start by waiting 10 years after its release to see how it has aged. But some music is undeniable upon impact. I’m confident Titanic Rising is one of those albums, and any Swiftie who stans folklore should check this out. It’s like drifting through a dreamworld where Joni Mitchell’s ‘70s output was produced by Brian Eno. All the songs pair a rich baroque pop pallet with enormous orchestration, eerie experimental ambiance, and rippling undercurrents of dread. This is an ode to living in the shadow of doom, a poignant document of what it feels like to inhabit this particular moment in time.

Highlights: A Lot’s Gonna Change, Andromeda, Everyday, Something to Believe, Movies, Picture Me Better

Kevin’s #97: Cloudland - Pere Ubu (1989)

My Take:

Cloudland is another new one for me, and I’ve never even heard of Pere Ubu. I looked them up, and the most common description of their sound that I saw is “avant garage,” which is very fitting. Upon the first few tracks of this record, for whatever reason, I pictured myself driving through endless fields of grain under a vibrant blue sky in an old Chevy pickup. For as much as there were trappings of dream pop and ‘80s synth scattered throughout, I felt something distinctly midwestern about this sound. And then Wikipedia confirmed that Pere Ubu originated from Cleveland. Since Kevin hails from Madison, I would assume this must’ve been a crucial part of his summer soundtrack growing up.

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My #96: Let Love In - Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds (1994)

My cousin played a major role in introducing me to Nick Cave from 2019-2020. Since then, my admiration for his art has grown immensely after seeing his “Stranger than Kindness” exhibit in Montreal with my girlfriend, watching him perform with Warren Ellis in 2022 and Colin Greenwood last year (both at Massey Hall), and reading both his newsletter and his book, Faith, Hope, and Carnage. There’s something so spiritually invigorating about engaging with anything he does. I struggled to pick an album of his for this list—it was essentially between this, The Boatman’s Call, Skeleton Tree, and Ghosteen. I went with Let Love In because it’s a definitive goth album, but also accessible. These tracks vary from pitch-black humor to seductive swampy grooves to piano ballads, all with Nick’s singular theatrical flair.

Highlights: Do You Love Me?, Nobody’s Baby Now, Jangling Jack, Red Right Hand, Thirsty Dog, Lay Me Low

Kevin’s #96: Copacetic - Velocity Girl (1993)

My Take:

I’m a little ignorant of shoegaze, but this strikes me as a more bouncy version of Loveless. I listen to the willowy, ethereal female vocals and it sounds like I’m ingesting a soothing pharmaceutical with potentially hallucinatory effects, and then these Fugazi-style guitars come in and they jangle and the whole thing is thrown into discordance. “Pretty Sister” is a killer opener, but “Pop Loser,” “A Chang,” and “Catching Squirrels” are also standouts.

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My #95: Lonerism - Tame Impala (2012)

I smoked a lot of weed to this album. When Innerspeaker dropped, Kevin Parker was sometimes dogged with “Same Impala” jokes—and while I think his debut is fantastic, Lonerism maximizes technology to expand on the spirit and experimentation of ‘60s and early-’70s psychedelic rock without being beholden to its influences. Parker doesn’t sound like an electronic producer, but he thinks like one: He integrates electronic music-making while emphasizing fluidity, constant motion, and textural evolution. The music propulses with endlessly layered synths, vocal loops, and flanged guitars, but Parker’s slightly echoed vocals pull everything together. Tame Impala is in a long lineage of loner music, but what separates this from albums like Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, Kid A, and The Moon & Antarctica is the exploration of the emotional difference between being alone and being isolated. You feel small listening to Lonerism, but in a way that makes you happy to lose yourself in this sonic snowglobe.

Highlights: Endors Toi, Apocalypse Dreams, Mind Mischief, Music to Walk Home By, Why Won’t They Talk to Me?, Feels Like We Only Go Backwards, Elephant, Nothing that Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control

Kevin’s #95: Appetite For Destruction - Guns and Roses (1987)

My Take:

I can’t say I’m the biggest fan of hair metal—it’s one of those you had to be there genres of music, but my generation also produced dubstep and Imagine Dragons, so I can’t talk too much shit. Also, I have fond memories of going to Patriots games with my dad and watching Tom Brady and company run out into the field to “Welcome to the Jungle,” which got me pretty jacked up to watch 300-pound meatheads give themselves permanent concussions. I also can’t deny the greatness of “Sweet Child ‘O’ Mine,” as that opening riff is iconic. This is one of those albums that I respect more than I enjoy, but I understand its placement in the rock pantheon.

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My #94: The Money Store - Death Grips (2012)

The Money Store is a set of 13 chart-topping tracks in an alternate post-apocalyptic reality. It sits on an Iron Throne of its own design, but nobody wants to look at it because the image is too horrifying. This is what The Notebook is to my girlfriend. The rapping is intense and feral, and the beats are a raw, fractured, incessant, and glitchy barrage of noise. MC Ride, Andy Morin, and Zach Hill were, and still are, on some next-level shit. I certainly don’t understand all of their musings and imagery and artistic decisions—and I don’t know if any of us ever will. Death Grips has a sound that could have only been forged in the late-aughts/early-2010s, and they will go down as among my generation’s most confounding, divisive, and revolutionary musical acts. I saw them live last fall, and no matter where you stood, you were forced into a mosh pit that felt like a full-body assault.

Highlights: Get Got, The Fever, Lost Boys, I’ve Seen Footage, System Blower, The Cage, Bitch Please, Hacker

Kevin’s #94: Control - Janet Jackson (1986)

My Take:

If a Janet Jackson album were to make one of these lists, it would be a tough call between Control, Rhythm Nation 1814, or Velvet Rope—but it’s hard to argue with this one. The tracklist is absolutely stacked. Everything here is fierce, and there’s just an unfiltered display of sass and funkiness that is provocative. “Nasty” is straight fire, an assault of vocal pyrotechnics. I can’t say enough good things about Control.

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My #93: E. 1999 Eternal - Bone Thugs-n-Harmony (1995)

I didn’t know hip-hop could be melodic until I first bumped E. 1999 Eternal. It raised the stakes of gangsta rap—both in its pure, gritty excess, but also in rhyme style, cadence, and delivery. Even when they rap about well-trodden themes like drugs, violent crime, and death, the lyrics are framed and delivered in such a striking and bizarre way; they have these relentless triplet flows delivered at a lightning-fast pace and in unison, bordering on singing. Krayzie Bone still has one of the smoothest flows I’ve ever heard. The beats are menacing and somber, framed with dark, smoked-out G-funk beats, rumbling piano chords, mellotron, and synthesized strings. Even with all this brooding, moody atmosphere, this album never loses its feeling of sweetness.

Highlights: East 1999, Eternal, Crept and We Came, Down ‘71 (The Getaway), Mr. Bill Collector, The Crossroads, Land of Tha Heartless, 1st of Tha Month,

Kevin’s #93: Ralph Tresavant - Ralph Tresavant (1990)

My Take:

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve heard “Sensitivity” and this took me down memory lane listening to this on the radio as a kid. Everything about this album is just silky and smooth. It makes me want to install a mirrorball in my apartment so I can slow dance with my girlfriend (while leaving space for Jesus, of course).

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My #92: IGOR - Tyler, the Creator (2019)

I would’ve never thought Tyler, the Creator would shed his skin as a vulgar internet cowboy and make a heartfelt concept breakup album about a love triangle where he is infatuated with a man who is also dating a woman who is pulling him away from Tyler. This project is creatively vital and emotionally heartsick set with as much pain, vulnerability, and compulsion as a classic soul LP. It was jarring to see Tyler morph into more of a singer than rapper, but if anything, Igor is the apotheosis of emotionally charged hip-hop that disavows labels. And “Hard to believe in god when there ain’t no mirrors around” is the most Kanye line that Kanye never wrote. His trademark visceral beats, scathing lyrics, and aggression were replaced with slower jams and irresistible soul hooks—upon first listen, you’re waiting for it to kick off, but halfway through, you accept it and start digging this new Tyler.

Highlights: EARFQUAKE, I THINK, NEW MAGIC WAND, A BOY IS A GUN, PUPPET, WHAT'S GOOD, GONE GONE / THANK YOU, I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE, ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

Kevin’s #92: Lost in the Dream - The War On Drugs (2014)

My Take:

Hell yeah! Lost In the Dream is what got me into the War On Drugs. A Deeper Understanding is my personal favorite because it’s a perfect album for long-distance running and I can’t help but disassociate to it. But this is a near-flawless collection of dreamy vibes, shifting moods, devastating beauty, and slowly unfolding greatness.

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My #91: Dots and Loops - Stereolab (1997)

While Kevin went with Transient Random-Noise Bursts’s avant-garde tendencies and atonal droning, I opted for the more breezy harmonies of Dots and Loops. This is definitely the poppiest and most accessible of their ‘90s material, but it doesn’t sacrifice any of their experimental impulses. It’s like I’m relaxing on a couch in a space lounge, listening to revitalized Muzak. Dots and Loops is a work both of its moment and it seems to hover outside everything else.

Highlights: Brakhage, Diagonals, Rainbo Conversation, Parsec, Ticker-Tape of the Unconscious

Kevin’s #91: Electric Honey - Luscious Jackson (1999)

My Take:

I thought I had never heard of Luscious Jackson until I played “Ladyfingers” and I vaguely remember listening to this on my local alternative radio station as a kid. This feels like such a quintessential late-‘90s album, blending hip-hop, lighthearted pop, soft rock, and electronic. I don’t know why, but this album makes me think of that big-head girl Steve Madden commercial and Magnolia. But this is something that feels breezy and perfect for the waning August days.

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Our 90-81:

Another 100 Best Albums of All Time List

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