“Me and Sarah Jane’s” gripping final two minutes (“Tears of joy and mocking laughter / Words lost in the wind”) rank among our top-five passages to ‘cry when nobody’s looking’. “No Reply at All” features Earth, Wind and Fire’s inimitable horn section, presaging future solo hits like Collins’ “Sussudio”. But when analyzed song-by-song – leaving aside the dreadful “Crunge”-like “Who Dunnit” – where exactly is the problem? As a high-school buddy once pointed out, the title track’s hyper-sexualized beat is perfectly syncopated for seven minutes of heavy screwing.
#PEARL JAM MTV UNPLUGGED AMAZON FULL#
Cue up Abacab in a room full of Genesis buffs, and most of them will probably melt away.
This leaves 1981’s disposable Abacab as the odd man out – Genesis’ first proper foray into unadulterated glossy pop, yet still lacking the smash singles Invisible Touch would deliver a few years later. Progressive rock-era Genesis is justly revered, and this reviewer considers 1980’s Duke one of the great underappreciated albums of that decade. Hey, what can we say? Daddy yacht-rock RULZ! It must be nice, right? For whatever messed-up reason, Cross’ Best O f compilation is a singalong favorite on car rides with my hip, image-conscious Gen-Z teens. Not to mention Michael McDonald guesting on his debut album. But Cross was an underrated shredding guitarist whose adult-lite pop confections have achieved surprising staying power, particularly “Ride Like the Wind”, which throws off more hard-fought sincerity than most of today’s pop dross. Then the rise of pretty-boy MTV rendered him a homely punchline.
#PEARL JAM MTV UNPLUGGED AMAZON PLUS#
1981’s “Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do)” nabbed him another chart-topper, plus an Oscar for Best Original Song shared with the estimable Burt Bacharach. This feat stood for 40 years until Billie Eilish replicated it in 2020. Christopher Cross – Christopher Cross (1979) and Best of Christopher Cross (1993)Ĭhristopher Cross won five Grammy Awards for his eponymous debut, including Album of the Year, Record of the Year, Song of the Year (#1 hit “Sailing”), and Best New Artist. Yours truly was a few years late to the party with Business as Usual. Greg Ham’s trademark saxophone adds gravitas to “People Just Love to Play with Words” and “Underground”, while epic album closer “Down by the Sea” would feel (mostly) at home on an early Church record. With its angular guitars and quirky underwater sound effects, the heartbreaking “I Can See It in Your Eyes” could teach Thomas Dolby a thing or two and probably did. And yet, here we are! Alongside massive hits like “Down Under”, “Who Can It Be Now?”, and “Be Good Johnny”, Men at Work’s Business as Usual sneaks in under the radar with some of the most sublime New Wave-inflected tracks of the early 1980s. Can you say yuck? Superman should bathe in Kryptonite before any self-respecting rock critic would cue up this nauseatingly popular fan favorite.
Endless years of heavy MTV video rotation. Men at Work – Business as Usual (1981)įifteen weeks atop the US album chart. So, all you music zombies: Lock the door, turn out the lights, and watch us joyously set fire to whatever meager credibility we have left.Ħ. Seriously, some of these turkeys are egregious enough to end marriages. And a guilty pleasure nobody ever heard of, ain’t guilty at all.
Some obvious choices are missing – Barry Manilow, Neil Diamond, and the Carpenters were Gen-X rites of childhood, not a source of embarrassment. “Overplayed but respected” doesn’t count, while “Greatest Hits” compilations are fair game. So, after two decades in this racket, it’s time to bare my soul with self-immolating glee. Of course, this doesn’t mean we want anyone else to know about it.įortunately, representing the Old Guard means never having to say you’re sorry. Well-known hit albums that, by all rights, should never soil our privileged speakers, yet somehow claw their way onto the rotation and linger there like mold for years in some cases. Put simply? While we may know a lot about music, we can also be a real pain in the ass.īut every rose has its thorn (sorry), and every pompous critic has a few rotting skeletons in their musical closet. Such fashionable disregard is the source of our priceless credibility, or so we tell ourselves. Our preferences nearly always align against the public and, therefore, the almighty dollar, setting us up for penury and much-deserved ridicule. We inveterate snobs sit perched on high, passing objective judgment on an industry that is, by definition, entirely subjective. Music “street cred” is a precious commodity for critics.
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