this kills the metalfag
>souljaboytellem.com A-
>highest rated AnCo album is CHz
I hate metalfags but I hate this faggot too
Reinventing The Steel [EastWest, 2000] *bomb*
Best living music critic
Tricky: Maxinquaye [Island, 1995]
From Soul II Soul to Massive Attack to Tricky is a straight line leading straight down to a bad place you should take a chance and visit. Depressive, constricted, phantasmagoric, industrial, yet warmly beatwise and swathed in a gauzy glow that promises untold creature comforts, these are the audioramas of someone who's signed on to work for the wages of sin and lived to cash the check. Determinedly Lo-NRG, he's a sad sack with attitude, a complicated malcontent whose cynicism can't quash his capacity for euphoria or rebellion. And though he long ago saw through the willed optimism of black-Brit dance music, he's here to tell you that a dystopia with Martine singing in it has some serious rewards. A+
Pyromania [Mercury, 1983]
Fuckin' right new heavy metal is different from old heavy metal. The new stuff is about 5 silly beats faster. And the "new" metal singers all sound free, white, and more-or-less twenty one. C+
Crosby, Stills, and Nash [Atlantic, 1969]
Rated by request, I've written elsewhere that this album is perfect, although that is not necessarily a compliment. Only David Crosby's vocal on "Long Time Gone" saves it from a special castrati award. Pray for Neil Young. B+
Roxy Music [Reprise, 1972]
From the drag queen on the cover to the fop finery in the centerfold to the polished deformity of the music on the record, this celebrates the kind of artifice that could come to seem as unhealthy as the sheen on a piece of rotten meat. Right now, though, it's decorated with enough weird hooks to earn an A for side one. Side two leans a little too heavily on the synthesizer (played by a balding, long-haired eunuch lookalike named Eno) without the saving grace of drums and bassline. B+
>>66463286
>(played by a balding, long-haired eunuch lookalike named Eno)
lel
What's the hardest christgau has gushed on an album?
>>66463392
>Boy do the haters get busy on this 16-year-old. But scrutinize the "superman" matter (look it up) and you'll see that even if he thought he was sneaking something outlandishly filthy onto a pop record, his fans thought he was inventing a dance that involved flying, thus furthering the presumption of innocence so crucial to his cute. Unlike his crunk forebears, he's not into pimping or dealing or even strip clubs--"Booty Meat" is as explicit as his carnality gets, and not only is he looking not touching, he's hoping an amateur will "turn around just like a pro." He's still boy enough to worry about those F's, and the most winning of his many winning songs was written to, and on, his Sidekick 3. There are enough sonic strokes here to keep the wrong bizzer in ringtone rappers for a year. But Soulja Boy's spiritual secret is that with less subcultural support than, say, Be Your Own Pet, he's reached the top of his world on a few tips from ex-partner Young Kwon and the loyalty of human sidekick Arab. You can hear how tickled he is about it.
crap
herpes
retard
idiot
shit
twat
gormless
a bad idiot
ungood
>>66463392
New York Dolls
>>66463392
He gushed pretty hard on the New York Dolls, The Clash, Exile on Main St., and Marquee Moon
He really, really likes punk rock.
Back In Black [Atlantic, 1980]
Replacing Aerosmith as the group of choice for heavy machinery-loving primitives, these Aussies are a little too archetypical for my taste. Angus Young does come up with some killer riffs, although not as much as a refined person like myself would prefer, and newly recruited singer Brian Johnson sings like a cattle prod has been pressed against his scrotum, just the thing for fans who can't decide if their newfound testosterone is agony or ecstasy. "Given The Dog A Bone" (sic) and "Let Me Put My Love Into You" contain all the unimaginative sex acts you'd imagine while "What Do You Do For Money, Honey" has fewer answers than the average secretary would prefer. My sister is glad they don't write poetry and for that I'm grateful. Brothers are more deeply implicated in these matters. B-
>>66463628
>Brian Johnsons sings like a cattle prod has been pressed against his scrotum
taupe keque
>>66463594
>He really, really likes punk rock
Well, mostly.
Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables [Cherry Red, 1980]
I want there to be more punk rock, I do, I do. I want there to be more left-wing New Wave. But not from a singer with a Tiny Tim vibrato who spent the first half of the '70s perfecting rock cabaret. And it sounds like, although I could be wrong, that Jello Biafra started listening to the Stooges in 1977. C+
Come In and Burn [DreamWorks, 1997]
Success doesn't satisfy this drug addict, who will only quit caffeine when they synthesize rage itself. Speaking as someone who got big laughs out of his spoken word "The Boxed Life", which recalls a lab assistant's job among other homely pursuits, it should come as no surprise that this thrash-and-churn is his metalest metal yet. It's more surprising however that Spielberg/Katzenberg/Geffen decided to make Rollins their flagship rocker--for all his cult cred and corp clout, this album was off the charts in a couple of weeks. Not only is it pathetic for aging Spinal Taps to fabricate an adolescent melodrama they remember from groupies and fan mail, it's even more pathetic never to feel anything else. C-
New Jersey [Mercury, 1988]
I must admire Jon's transparently pseudo-Springsteenian desire to improve both his platinum count and his artistic reputation. You could identify with the masses, sit back, and enjoy its giant hooks all the while. You could learn to love Livin' on a Prayer as I did during nonstop rotation at a local swimming pool. Or you could lose your lunch. Now pass the vomit bag. C+
>>66463112
Y is he a cuck?
Face Dances [Warner Bros., 1981]
Keith Moon's death seems to have liberated Pete Townshend from his obsession with mortality and the band he created. His new sex songs are stylish and passionate, the strongest he's written in a decade. Too bad they sound forced coming from the aging pretty boy who mouths them. Which serves as a reminder that mortality catches up with pretty boys faster than the rest of us. B-
>>66462160
Metalfag here
He's right on this
>>66463828
Spends a lot of time thinking about pretty boys?
>>66463665
>I want more left wing new wave
>>66463421
>wow this corporate writtenot ooga booga music is so great fuck da haters
Yeah metal fans sure do look lame compared to this guy...
Nobody's Daughter [Mercury, 2010]
Lots of people don't like her and I don't either. And it's true that stuff like the oil spill is just another thing for her to pretend to care about. The thing is, I could use some new punk fury in my life and unless you're a fan of Goldman-Sachs or BP Petroleum, so can you. And who better to bring it than a 45 year old woman who knows how to throw her weight around better than half the zit faces and dweens in the scene today. B
Why do I feel like Cristgau / Scarfuffi threads are always made by one guys?
Looking Forward [Reprise, 1999]
Right, like you didn't already know. Although I pray Y will render the title tune hopeful instead of smug, I know in the back of my head that I'll hear N harmonizing insipidly behind him. And when S explains how when he was young, old people were wrong and now that he's old, young people are wrong and then disses overfed talking heads while ignoring overfed exhead C next to him, part of me starts wishing some computer nerd with more brains than sense joins the arms race just to get even. C
It's Hard [Warner Bros., 1982]
For years, Pete Townshend's operatic pretensions were so transparent that I wagered a guess his music would never catch up with his songwriting ideas. And they didn't--both became more prolix at the same rate. This isn't quite as revolting as All The Blind Chinamen Have Western Eyes, but in between the synthesizers, winding song structures, and book club poetry, it's the nearest thing to classic awful English art rock since Genesis discovered funk. Best track--Eminence Front in which Pete Townshend discovers funk. Just in time. Bye. C-
>>66463971
>It's Hard
lol. penis
Chinese Democracy [Geffen, 2008]
Story of the year: Notorious rock recluse spends 10 years and a good chunk of his ill-gotten wealth creating the perfect album. Succeeds, on his own irrelevant terms. Since he can no longer lead young white males astray, I find the effort noble. Touching, almost. Didn't think he had it in him. B+
Stop The Clocks [Sony/BMG, 2006]
One of the many things I never got about this band was where the Beatles were. Where was the ebullience, the wit, the harmonies, God just the singing, and, uh, the songwriting? Cotton Mather made me understand that when Oasis say they love the Beatles they really mean they love the post-Help!, pre-Sgt. Pepper Beatles. Since that span encompasses Rubber Soul and Revolver, many would say tally ho, but (a) not me 'cause I love the Beatles start to finish and (b) only if you're writing songs as good as, uh, "We Can Work It Out." Instead Oasis, meaning loudmouth bro Noel Gallagher, write songs that resemble "We Can Work It Out" in thickened texture and momentum but not depth or charm, then add arena size in the swagger of the drums and the bigged-up vocals themselves. This band-selected best-of--two discs lasting 87 minutes, like an old-fashioned double-LP except it's only 18 tracks--capture their sonic moment as fully as any freelance music historian needs. A 2010 package repeats 11 of these songs and adds 16 others--too many, I say. Also, it omits the opening "Rock 'n' Roll Star." If ever there were guys whose message to the world is summed up by an opener called "Rock 'n' Roll Star," it's these bigheads. B+
>>66462127
>he only writes about popular music
Just Another Band From L.A. [Bizarre, 1972]
You said it, Frank, I didn't. C
I Can't Stand Still [Asylum, 1982]
Makes sense that Henley's candid self-involvement should prove of more intrinsic interest than Glenn Frey's covert self-pity, but nobody capable of the distinction figured it would get as interesting as this. If there were anything to actually like about the guy, his complaints and revelations might even be moving. As it is, let's call them strong--like primo tequila, or the smell of an old jockstrap. B+
Building The Perfect Beast [Geffen, 1984]
This one makes you listen--its abrupt shapes and electro/symphonic textures never whisper Eagles remake. So thank cocomposer, multi-instrumentalist, and occasional arranger Danny Kortchmar, whose "You're Not Drinking Enough" (Merle Haggard, call your agent) and "All She Wants to Do Is Dance" (T-Bone Burnett, ditto) are at once the simplest and most effective songs on the record. Then blame the turgid lengths, tough-guy sensitivity, and "women are the only works of art" on the auteur, who still thinks perfect love is when you're crazy and she screams. B
Sheik Yerbouti [Zappa, 1979]
If this be social satire, how come its only targets are those individuals whose particular weirdness happens to diverge from that of the retentive gent at the control board? Makes you also wonder if Frank's primo guitar solo on "Yo Mama" is as arid spiritually as he is. As if there was any question after all these years. C
>>66462142
Because he is a patrician. AnCo is /mu/core shit.
>>66463286
>eunuch lookalike named Eno
>>66464791
that doesn't excuse rating CHz above SJ or Feels
>>66463112
Don't care about Def Leppard, but you call this shit a review? "lol".
>>66465050
>What is opinions
