1. Album of the Year
"Album of the Year," eh? That's always been a peculiar beast, a shiny bauble for the industry to polish. While the suits were busy anointing their chosen few, the real noise often brewed in the periphery, on warped vinyl from some dank basement pressing. It's rarely the "album of the year" that truly stands the test of time, is it? More often, it's the forgotten, the abrasive, the ones that scratched against the grain and refused to conform to any predetermined notion of greatness. The true anomalies.
2. Silver Apples
Silver Apples, a duo that made a hell of a racket with just oscillators, drums, and Simeon Coxe's deadpan vocals. Their self-titled debut in '68 was a sonic blueprint for minimalism and early electronica, long before krautrock got its full stride. It’s tribal, hypnotic, a stripped-down rhythmic pulse that felt like a glimpse into a future we weren't quite ready for. Pure, unadulterated machine soul, recorded with a raw, undeniable analog sheen.
3. Kingdom Come: Deliverance II (Original Soundtrack Essentials)
Now, *this* is an odd duck in my stable. A soundtrack for a digital realm. While "Kingdom Come: Deliverance II" — the "Essentials" cut — aims for medieval gravitas, it’s often too pristine. It presents a neo-folk, neo-classical pastiche, certainly, but filtered through a modern lens, lacking the true grit of a minstrel's lute or the raw power of a genuine field recording. It’s polished, a digital ghost of analog glory. A curious, clean anomaly.
4. VISAGE NEUTRE
"Visage Neutre" – the name itself conjures up images of cold wave, industrial clang, maybe some early EBM. If it’s from the late 70s or early 80s, you can bet it's steeped in that European malaise, all stark synths and detached vocals. It's the sound of urban decay, a factory hum, a stark refusal of warmth. The kind of sound that made you feel something, even if that something was just a chill. A proper post-punk minimalist statement.
5. Inspiration Information/ Wings Of Love
Shuggie Otis, now there was a singular talent. *Inspiration Information*, released in '74, was a psychedelic soul masterpiece, brimming with those languid, multi-tracked grooves. Add in the *Wings of Love* material, and you get an even deeper dive into his idiosyncratic genius. It's got that blues backbone, but layered with a dreamy, almost ethereal funk, all built in his home studio. A true one-man sonic journey, drenched in analog warmth.
6. Shut Up and Listen
"Shut Up and Listen." A title like that immediately signals a certain kind of intent, doesn't it? Probably a no-nonsense punk outfit, or some early industrial provocateurs. It’s the command of a band that believes its message is paramount, stripped of frills, maybe even a bit abrasive. The kind of raw, unpolished sound that demanded your attention, whether you liked it or not. No compromise, just pure, unadulterated noise.
7. Red Mecca
The Sound's *Red Mecca* from '81. Now that's a record that still feels like a cold, hard slap. Adrian Borland's vocals, urgent and desperate, riding over those angular, propulsive rhythms. It's post-punk at its most bleakly poetic, a soundtrack to urban paranoia and political disillusionment. Dark, intense, and utterly essential for anyone who understands the true weight of a well-placed guitar chord and a raw nerve.
