1. Link, Vernon and Doug
Link Wray. That name alone conjures ghosts of feedback and raw, untamed electric guitar. This trio’s output, sans specific year, speaks to the primal, unvarnished spirit of garage rock before it even had a name. It’s the sound of rebellion echoing from a dimly lit practice space, a blueprint for every scuzzy riff that followed. This isn't polished pop; it's pure, visceral energy, a foundational rumble that still cuts through the noise of modern excess.
2. The Parable Of Arable Land - God Bless The Red Krayola And All Who Sail With It
Red Krayola’s 1967 debut is a manifesto against musical conformity. This isn't psychedelia for dancing; it's a fractured, often dissonant journey into the avant-garde, blending bluesy jams with free improvisation and spoken word. It’s an intellectual assault on pop structure, a proto-punk statement wrapped in an art-school veneer. A challenging listen, sure, but its bold, uncompromised experimentation laid groundwork many still haven't caught up to.
3. The Presidents of The United States of America: Ten Year Super Bonus Special Anniversary Edition
The Presidents brought a goofy, infectious energy to the mid-nineties, and this 2005 anniversary edition smartly compiles their best. It’s stripped-down, almost novelty-rock, but their bass-and-two-string-guitar approach delivered undeniable, catchy hooks. This collection reminds you that rock 'n' roll doesn't always need grandiosity; sometimes, three chords and a ridiculous lyric are all it takes to spark pure, unadulterated fun. A welcome dose of unpretentious joy.
4. I Do Not Play No Rock 'N' Roll: The Complete Sessions
Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Before anyone else even plugged in, she was wielding an electric guitar like a weapon and a blessing. This "Complete Sessions" offers an essential deep dive into her foundational genius, showcasing how she fused sacred gospel with secular blues and proto-rock swagger. Her fiery riffs and powerful vocals are an undeniable cornerstone; anyone claiming to understand rock's lineage must reckon with her electrifying contributions laid bare here.
5. Neujahrskonzert 2026 / New Year's Concert 2026 / Concert du Nouvel An 2026
Well, now, this is an interesting one. A New Year's Concert from 2026. A sommelier deals with established vintages, not speculative futures. While I appreciate the classical tradition, reviewing something that hasn't materialized yet feels like critiquing a ghost. Perhaps in its eventual incarnation, it will offer a fresh take on familiar waltzes, but for now, it remains a tantalizing, unplayed promise.
6. Suicide (2019 - Remaster)
Suicide's 1977 debut, in its 2019 remastered glory, remains a stark, unsettling masterpiece. Alan Vega’s sneering incantations over Martin Rev’s minimalist, pulsing electronics birthed a sound both terrifyingly new and deeply influential. It’s proto-industrial, proto-punk, and absolutely uncompromised. The remaster sharpens its raw edges, making its confrontational, claustrophobic atmosphere feel as vital and dangerous now as it did over forty years ago.
7. Christmas Collection
A "Christmas Collection." Vague, yes, but often these compilations are where truly unexpected gems are buried amidst the seasonal schmaltz. A good one, particularly from the 60s or 70s, can reveal forgotten soul singers or bluesmen lending their grit to holiday standards. It's about finding the genuine rhythm beneath the tinsel, the raw emotion that cuts through the saccharine, a true test of a sommelier’s ear.
8. Melissa
Mercyful Fate's 1983 debut, *Melissa*, was a foundational tremor in the nascent extreme metal scene. King Diamond’s operatic falsetto, coupled with Hank Shermann’s intricate, often progressive riffing, forged a dark, occult-laden soundscape. It wasn't just heavy; it was theatrical, menacing, and technically ambitious. This album laid crucial groundwork for black metal and many other subgenres, proving that darkness could be both brutal and sophisticated.
