Audioxide

The raspy sax, dramatic vocals, and ostentatious instrumentation could just as easily have a place in a gaudy musical as they do on this album.

There is so much going on, and the ambitions shown are so bold and brilliant, that you can’t help but root for the record even when it’s falling a little short.

Come for the singalong hooks of “El Scorcho”, “Pink Triangle”, and “Falling for You”, stay for Rivers Cuomo’s tales of loves lost and loves unrequited.

Romping rock and roll sounded like a breeze for Marc Bolan, and when you add some vintage Visconti wizardry into the mix, you can’t really go wrong.

Each note of every individual performance is captured and presented perfectly, with the ragged spirit of the band left intact. It’s scruffy yet masterful.

The record listens like rock music’s answer to an ice-cold six-pack of decentish lager. It’s unrefined, but a cheap and cheerful good time.

Ellie Rowsell’s drift between spoken-word musings and operatic soarings is alive and well, and the band as a whole is as simpatico as ever - if not moreso.

Annie Clark wrangles a myriad of vintage sounds and gives them a stunning contemporary sheen, but it is in service of a world unquestionably her own. David Bowie and Mia Wallace had a sweet baby girl and abandoned her in South Queens.

Squid take characteristics from krautrock, dub, funk, and jazz to form a sound that is remarkably coherent and wholly distinct. It’s chaotic, but it works.

Another commanding and deft iteration of Godspeed’s lauded post-rock style. Although lacking the range of previous records, it still offers space to think.

A rock record produced like a dance record, with endless amounts of saturation and compression applied to, well, everything. This is a failed experiment.

Vintage Del Rey (in both senses of the word), though the curious thing about the record is that it flies highest when she sounds least like herself.

An album caught in no-man’s land, its dozy stadium rock tunes neither advancing Kings of Leon’s sound nor recapturing the glory of their past.

Music is one of many reasons the game stands apart from other battle royale titles, each tune bringing our favourite heroes (and villains) to life.

The shift away from skeletal guitars is welcome, but Baker’s strength does not lie in expansive arrangements. The songs sound like they’ve been developed for arenas, which is a strange paradox.

An expansive, impressive listen with delicious moments of climactic eruption. For Mogwai fans, this should feel like a hit in the band’s discography.

Bristol band Goan Dogs have been going strong for ten years, and the work they've put in during that time has come to captivating fruition in their debut.

A blend of teenage angst and a primordial, animalistic sense of something lurking beneath a thin surface, a beastly shape clawing at the other side.

The record listens like an all-night jam at an impossibly cool bohemian gettogether. It’s funky, relaxed, audacious, exhausting... but above all, it’s brilliant.

Unabashedly grim, but reassuringly gentle. The album's striking cover art of a menacing but fragile old man is a good indicator of what to expect.

The harmonies are wonderful, the instrumentation is charming, and, well, everything sounds rather bloody marvellous. Lots to love and little to dislike.

There is a huge amount of musical and lyrical ingenuity to enjoy here, with strong messages, jovial piss takes, and Joe Talbot as the megaphoned town crier.

It seems that a template was drawn up and filled in ten times over, such that every track sounds like the last, only wearing a different hat.

A sumptuously produced blend of folk, post-rock, and psychedelia, all with a smokey stoner sheen. When it gets rolling the grooves are irresistible.

A sumptuously produced blend of folk, post-rock, and psychedelia, all with a smokey stoner sheen. When it gets rolling the grooves are irresistible.

Along with a supremely confident and symbiotic backing band, Neil Young imbues each track with this and easygoing courageousness. A true classic.

Parachutes is nice-feeling music written by nice-seeming blokes. As is the case with all things Coldplay, it’s easy to mock, but it’s easy to like as well.

Grizzled and dusty, the album is as world-weary as it is worldly. Dylan sits in his chair by the fire and regales with stories, between naps.

Provided you're in the right mood, The Moon & Antarctica is one of the standout indie rock releases of the 2000s.

Quite simply one of the greatest anti-war albums of all time. In this current political climate its significance has only increased.

The Desert Sessions project has always been a lot of fun. Returning from an absence of 16 (!!!) years, nothing has really changed on that front.

Sonic Citadel leans into the grubby, raw, jam-like nature of the duo’s live performances, records it, and calls it a day. It’s like a whirring motorcycle.

The last word of a band with nothing left to prove, and it sounds like it. Exceptional without being seminal, but with some truly classic songs.

A record can be iconic and flawed at the same time. Elvis' desbut is unrefined, hit and miss, and sometimes irresistible. Could it be any other way?

Who would be mad enough to single-handedly rank Bob Dylan's 38 studio albums? Why, Charlie Clissitt of course. Two great minds for the price of one.

Faith No More create a journey of funky new wave rap-metal, and if that depiction sounds ridiculous... well that's because it is.

The arrangements are expansive and diverse, with coarse guitars blending between the lines of timpani, bells, piano, and organ. Lots of organ.

A broody, elegant, sometimes transcendent blend of rock and electronic music unlike anything made before or since, even by The Stone Roses.

The Manchester musician talks about his most recent project (Moon), the merits of working alone, and the wisdom of Roger Ebert.

Blues, psychedelia, jazz, and gospel are all deeply ingrained in the music. This is a rock record, but every track has a flavour of its own.

The whole record has an easiness of manner, content to be the sonic backdrop for a wanderer with no particular destination in mind.

QOTSA’s debut serves as a glimpse into their career as princesses, before being made queens. There's always time for good ol’ sleazy rock’n’roll.

This is the first Spiritualized album in six years, so it's bizarre to hear something that sounds like the product of artistic saturation.

The sonic scenery is colourful and smoky, and the band sound like they’re having the time of their lives. It's loose, but it's endearing too.

There’s no pretence. Here stands an honest-to-god ‘Murican wailing about everything from young love to the plight of the working classes; take it or leave it.

Those looking for the muscle of The White Stripes should just listen to The White Stripes. Jack White’s output here is chillier, more demanding... stranger.

Freedom’s Goblin is a victim of its own ambition, and of Segall’s protean talent. A lot of ground is covered, but the album’s identity never quite clicks into place.

Tapping into the bohemian sensibilities of the era, Led Zeppelin feel like a sonic equivalent of the Beats in their indifference to the status quo.

r/qotsa put together the ultimate Queens of the Stone Age playlist: ...Vulgar Songs for Villains (Rated R). We put it to the test.

Dylan sings and we listen, the instrumentation hanging on his every word along with the rest of us. The album is an expressive, beautiful, and timeless classic.

You’d expect huge, theatrical arrangements topped with sizzling guitar solos, but this wasn’t to be. Most of the songs on News of the World are weirdly tame.

"Looks like Oaysis have competition." André and Fred's first impressions of 'As You Were', the debut solo album by professional manc Liam Gallagher.

Visions of a Life is a triumph of contemporary British rock. The riffs roar and the melodies soar, with the band playing beautifully to Ellie Rowsell’s strengths.

An overwhelming, but vastly enjoyable experience — the essential Verve record. Richard Ashcroft set out to make history, and with Urban Hymns he did so.

As is probably appropriate, Every Country’s Sun listens like an immense post-rock mass of warmth, light, and/or incineration. Who could say no to that?

Mark Ronson’s production is pristine, which while technically impressive feels inappropriate. The music sounds kitschy, like a gigantic quiff’s greatest hits.

There is a remarkable confidence to the record that you wouldn’t usually expect from a debut, which is a testament to Costello’s immense musical capabilities.

There isn't much substance here. The album gives a far clearer impression of who Royal Blood want to sound like than it does what their actual vibe is.

Rock and roll delivered with swagger is such a buzz, and that’s the game on Definitely Maybe. It's relentless, unstoppable, and totally mad fer it.

Be it anxious art-rock, spasmodic electronica, or jazz-tinged soundscapes, Thom & Co. have you covered. Here are Radiohead's albums ranked worst-to-best.

Because of the Times is laudable record with a plethora of well written tracks, but it sits there with a mediocre comfortability, and does little to push or challenge.

Riffs in giant proportions, subtleties hidden between the pedal switches, and Turner’s Sheffield charm in spades. Possibly Arctic Monkey's finest album.

The record warrants a listen for the highlights alone. The problems, such as they are, stem from the country vein of the album. It borders on twee at times.

A staple of the psychedelic folk-rock genre, feeling as fresh and vibrant now as it did in 1967. It sounds like a wonderful montage of the ’60s.

Riding the crest of an unprecedented popular rise, veins caked thick with drugs, Oasis produced something profoundly overblown in their third album.

Daisies of the Galaxy comes to terms with the torment that constructed the deeply bleak and reflective Electro-Shock Blues, and injects a taste of happiness.

Instinctive, messy, and rambling, with shimmers of the divine. Electric Ladyland speaks in a kind of rock and roll tongues, with Jimi Hendrix front and centre.

Brimming with catchy vocal hooks and harmonious moments, Something Blue is a pleasant record, but its production leaves much to be desired.

To brand this a landmark of the '90s is a disservice to its quality. OK Computer is as relevant now as ever, both culturally and sonically.

A daunting experience that revels in its sorrow. Radiohead have produced better records, but never before has their desolation sounded so gorgeous.

The group have confidently cemented their status. If they stay together they can progress toward any direction they so desire.

An endearing record of mystery and wonder, deftly inheriting elements from a wide selection of genres that amalgamate to create a category of its own.

“Burn the Witch” is a fine song; a satisfying introduction to a new Radiohead era that will naturally leave fans wanting more.

Without sacrificing the brutality fans have come to expect from Deftones, Gore strikes a delightful balance. Perhaps the band's most accessible record to date.

A capacious sequel that seems confused by its own message. It neither sinks nor soars, and fails to make any sort of impact as a result.

A solid Iggy Pop record, but with a lingering sense of disappointment that all the talent involved couldn’t create something more substantial.

Raw, deeply personal, and tremendously honest, this was rock & roll as Lennon had envisaged it. Sometimes it's gorgeous, others twitchy and uncomfortable.

Funeral is the beating heart of adolescence, a journey that voices the struggle of coming to terms with growing up. Beautifully intense and emotionally draining.

The vitality that makes Savages so appealing is too often replaced by a softer blend of turmoil that isn’t as rewarding, nor a progression in sound.

Weezer were unapologetically weird, yet strangely glamorous, which in itself brought a warming message; they showed us that it was cool to be uncool.

A portal into the world of remembrances that grief gives birth to... and the last word. Trust Bowie to turn dying into performance art.

Homme’s quip that rock 'should be heavy enough for the boys and sweet enough for the girls' rings true here; there’s a near perfect balance of grit and finesse.

A record that’s unabashed and vibrant and full of potential. Wolf Alice show glimpses of what's to come, straddling genres with almost childlike enthusiasm.

On The Beach is perfect for those late nights alone. Both mellow and despondent, the record features the purest of songwriting from a genuine artist.

The opening third is nothing to write home about, the middle section is terrific, and the last twenty minutes are ludicrous. Drones is the full Muse package.

There are few better highs than Muse in top gear. It’s breathless, explosive music; the kind that compels listeners to pick up an instrument or start a band.

One of the most enjoyable pop albums of all time, an iconic work that will forever be used as an example for songwriting expertise.

With a vast and powerful sound, here we experience U2 without the excruciating self-indulgence that turns listeners away from their more recent works.

Rain Dogs isn’t for everyone, but if you want to hear what the roots of an urban jungle sound like - in all their sad and messy madness - it’s well worth a listen.

The Dark Side of the Moon is one of those high-water marks of artistic expression. It’s just sublime. I don’t have a bad thing to say about it.

The songs are beautiful in ways only Ray Davies can achieve, but the album’s scattered feel keeps it from being more than the sum of its parts.