1. OK Computer
This one felt like the future arrived all at once, even if it was painting a bleak picture of it. The guitars were still there, but warped, layered over these almost-electronic soundscapes that felt utterly new. It captured that pre-millennium anxiety, the feeling of everything changing too fast, the cold hum of technology encroaching on human connection. But somehow, it made all that fear profoundly beautiful. It still hits different, a digital-age classic.
2. Mezzanine
Trippy, dark, and utterly hypnotic. This was the sound of the internet's darker corners, the late-night haze of early chat rooms, but translated into basslines that rumbled through your soul. It felt heavy, paranoid even, with those detached vocals and the way the beats just slithered. A true benchmark for what trip-hop could become, showing how electronic production could craft such dense, atmospheric dread that still feels immediate.
3. Selected Ambient Works 85-92
Before IDM became a genre, Aphex Twin was just making these incredible, intricate soundscapes. It’s raw, yes, but also deeply melodic and surprisingly emotional. This wasn't background noise; it was a whole universe, sometimes glitchy, sometimes serene, a prototype for so much that followed. It felt like the soundtrack to exploring a nascent digital world, full of wonder and a little bit of unease, pure sonic exploration.
4. Spiderland
Math rock before anyone really called it that, or maybe just post-rock in its purest, most unsettling form. Those guitars were like geometric puzzles, precise and angular, but the whole thing carried this incredible tension, a whispered narrative that felt genuinely creepy. It wasn’t about big choruses; it was about the space between the notes, the quiet before the storm that eventually broke.
5. Parklife
This was peak Britpop, all clever observational lyrics and infectious energy. It captured the cheeky, sometimes cynical spirit of mid-90s Britain, a glorious mess of pop hooks and quirky instrumentation that just screamed "cool." You could feel the cultural moment, the clash between tradition and modernity, delivered with such swagger. It still sounds like a bustling Saturday afternoon, a definitive soundtrack.
6. Grace
Oh man, this album. It’s just pure, raw emotion poured into every note. Buckley’s voice was something else, a soaring, acrobatic instrument that could break your heart or lift you up in the same breath. And the guitar work, so intricate and beautiful, weaving around those incredible vocals. It felt timeless even then, a profound statement from an artist who burned so bright, too brief.
7. Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness (Remastered)
This double album felt like a whole universe, an epic sprawl of grunge, alt-rock, and orchestral ambition. Corgan’s songwriting was just *so* intense, capturing adolescent angst and cosmic wonder all at once. The remastered version just brings out all that textured guitar work and orchestral grandeur, making the highs higher and the quiet moments even more poignant. A generational touchstone.
8. Music Has The Right To Children
This album is a time capsule, drenched in hazy nostalgia for childhood memories that might not even be yours. Those analogue synths, the crackling samples, the chopped-up voices – it’s all so warm and strangely unsettling. It felt like uncovering old VHS tapes, a perfect blend of innocent wonder and a creeping sense of something just slightly off. Pure digital alchemy, perfectly warped.
9. Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
This was the sound of indie rock refusing to take itself too seriously, but still managing to be brilliant. Pavement had this slacker charm, but the guitar interplay was always deceptively clever, and Malkmus's lyrics were full of oblique wit. It felt like the perfect antidote to grunge's earnestness, showing that you could be smart, messy, and utterly compelling, without trying too hard.
10. Hard Normal Daddy
This was brain-melting. Squarepusher took drum and bass, chopped it up into a million pieces, and then put it back together in ways that defied logic, but still made you want to move. It was hyper-technical, glitchy, and ridiculously fast, a true blast of future shock for anyone who thought they knew electronic music. Still sounds aggressively innovative, pushing boundaries years later.
11. Come On Die Young
Mogwai always understood the power of dynamics, and this album is a masterclass in it. It’s slower, heavier, and more brooding than their earlier work, letting those quiet, atmospheric passages build into monumental walls of sound. It felt like the soundtrack to a slow-motion collapse, intensely melancholic and utterly immersive. Post-rock at its most potent, a truly unforgettable experience.
