This is one case where the legend really precedes the record itself. Cut for about 600 dollars in Jack Endino's studio over just a matter of days, this captures Nirvana at a formative stage, still indebted to the murk that became known as grunge, yet not quite finding their voice as songwriters. Which isn't to say that they were devoid of original material, since even at this stage Kurt Cobain illustrated signs of his considerable songcraft, particularly on the minor-key ballad "About a Girl" and the dense churn of "Blew." A few songs come close to that level, but that's more a triumph of sound than structure, as "Negative Creep" and "School" get by on attitude and turmoil, while the cover of "Love Buzz" winds up being one of the highlights because this gives a true menace to their sound, thanks to its menacing melody. The rest of it sinks into the sludge, as the group itself winds up succumbing to grinding sub-metallic riffing that has little power, due to lack of riffs and lack of a good drummer. Bleach is more than a historical curiosity since it does have its share of great songs, but it isn't a lost classic -- it's a debut from a band that shows potential but haven't yet achieved it.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Radiohead's debut album, Pablo Honey, is a promising collection that blends U2's anthemic rock with long, atmospheric instrumental passages and an enthralling triple-guitar attack that is alternately gentle and bracingly noisy. The group has difficulty writing a set of songs that are as compelling as their sound, but when they do hit the mark -- such as on "Anyone Can Play Guitar," "Blow Out," and the self-loathing breakthrough single "Creep" -- the band achieves a rare power that is both visceral and intelligent.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Stone Temple Pilots were positively vilified once their 1992 debut, Core, started scaling the charts in 1993, pegged as fifth-rate Pearl Jam copyists. It is true that the worst moments of Core play like a parody of the Seattle scene -- titles like "Dead and Bloated" and "Crackerman" tell you that much, playing like really bad Alice in Chains parodies, and the entire record tends to sink into gormless post-grunge sludge. Furthermore, even if it rocks pretty hard, it's usually without much character, sounding like cut-rate grunge. To be fair, it's more that they share the same influences as their peers than being overt copycats, but it's still a little disheartening all the same. If that's all that Core was, it'd be as forgettable as Seven Mary Three, but there are the hits that propelled it up the charts, songs that have remarkably stood the test of time to be highlights of their era. "Sex Type Thing" may have a clumsy anti-rape lyric that comes across as misogynist, but it survives on its terrifically lunk-headed riff, while "Wicked Garden" is a surprisingly effective piece of revivalist acid rock. Then, there's the slow acoustic crawl of "Creep" that works as well as anything on AIC's Sap and, finally, "Plush," a majestic album rock revival more melodic and stylish than anything grunge produced outside of Nirvana itself. These four songs aren't enough to salvage a fairly pedestrian debut, but they do find STP to be nimble rock craftsmen when inspiration hits.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Stone Temple Pilots were positively vilified once their 1992 debut, Core, started scaling the charts in 1993, pegged as fifth-rate Pearl Jam copyists. It is true that the worst moments of Core play like a parody of the Seattle scene -- titles like "Dead and Bloated" and "Crackerman" tell you that much, playing like really bad Alice in Chains parodies, and the entire record tends to sink into gormless post-grunge sludge. Furthermore, even if it rocks pretty hard, it's usually without much character, sounding like cut-rate grunge. To be fair, it's more that they share the same influences as their peers than being overt copycats, but it's still a little disheartening all the same. If that's all that Core was, it'd be as forgettable as Seven Mary Three, but there are the hits that propelled it up the charts, songs that have remarkably stood the test of time to be highlights of their era. "Sex Type Thing" may have a clumsy anti-rape lyric that comes across as misogynist, but it survives on its terrifically lunk-headed riff, while "Wicked Garden" is a surprisingly effective piece of revivalist acid rock. Then, there's the slow acoustic crawl of "Creep" that works as well as anything on AIC's Sap and, finally, "Plush," a majestic album rock revival more melodic and stylish than anything grunge produced outside of Nirvana itself. These four songs aren't enough to salvage a fairly pedestrian debut, but they do find STP to be nimble rock craftsmen when inspiration hits.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

This is one case where the legend really precedes the record itself. Cut for about 600 dollars in Jack Endino's studio over just a matter of days, this captures Nirvana at a formative stage, still indebted to the murk that became known as grunge, yet not quite finding their voice as songwriters. Which isn't to say that they were devoid of original material, since even at this stage Kurt Cobain illustrated signs of his considerable songcraft, particularly on the minor-key ballad "About a Girl" and the dense churn of "Blew." A few songs come close to that level, but that's more a triumph of sound than structure, as "Negative Creep" and "School" get by on attitude and turmoil, while the cover of "Love Buzz" winds up being one of the highlights because this gives a true menace to their sound, thanks to its menacing melody. The rest of it sinks into the sludge, as the group itself winds up succumbing to grinding sub-metallic riffing that has little power, due to lack of riffs and lack of a good drummer. Bleach is more than a historical curiosity since it does have its share of great songs, but it isn't a lost classic -- it's a debut from a band that shows potential but haven't yet achieved it.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The second Tears for Fears album following Curt Smith's departure finds Roland Orzabal treading water (and self-consciously deep water at that). Long removed from the simple, melodic melancholy of the band's early work and abandoning the mid-period Beatles-influenced pop, Raoul and the Kings of Spain often borders on progressive rock. There's some genuinely pretty, if unexciting, music like the piano-driven ballad "Secrets," with it's soaring guitar line, and the gentle "Sketches of Pain." Unfortunately, everything is undone by Orzabal's lyrics (mostly co-written with guitarist/keyboardist Alan Griffiths). There seems to be a lack of ideas that cannot be concealed by the words, which are either inscrutable or embarrassingly silly ("What's the matter with your life/Did someone come and shoot your wife," he asks on "Sorry"). Listeners on both sides of the Atlantic couldn't be bothered, and the act's commercial fortunes fell even further.© Tom Demalon /TiVo

Power pop bands are often caught in a quandary. Their core audience praises them for their classicist approach, but if they ever want to break out into a larger audience, they have to modernize their sound, which makes their cult angry. The problem is especially difficult for bands that came of age in the early '90s, since they were weaned on not just the Beatles and Beach Boys, but also the Pixies and Sonic Youth. As a result, bands like the Dandy Warhols are restless, anxious to make catchy pop songs while keeping indie cred, and that's why their major-label debut, The Dandy Warhols Come Down, is so uneven. The band has talent for not just punchy hooks, but for layered sonics as well, but they don't know how to meld the two together. As a result, the most immediate moments on the record are awash in a sea of feedback, which can't be trance-inducing since its spell is punctured by pop hooks. And while those pop songs are good, they aren't enough to prevent Come Down from being a frustrating listen. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

On their second album, TLC downplay their overt rap connections, recording a smooth, seductive collection of contemporary soul reminiscent of both Philly soul and Prince, powered by new jack and hip-hop beats. Lisa Lopes contributes the occasional rap, but the majority of CrazySexyCool belongs to Tionne Watkins and Rozonda Thomas. While they aren't the most accomplished vocalists -- they have a tendency to be just slightly off-key -- the material they sing is consistently strong. As the cover of Prince's "If I Was Your Girlfriend" indicates, TLC favor erotic, midtempo funk. Yet the group removes any of the psychosexual complexities of Prince's songs, leaving a batch of sexy material that just sounds good, especially the hit singles. Both "Creep" and "Red Light Special" have a deep groove that accentuates the slinky hooks, but it's "Waterfalls," with its gently insistent horns and guitar lines and instantly memorable chorus, that ranks as one of the classic R&B songs of the '90s.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

"Best of all is a majestic take on Nick Cave’s ‘Into My Arms’; hushed intimacy making its sorrow all the sweeter." © TiVo

During the '90s, ever-changing guitarist John Scofield paired with saxophonist and fellow Berklee alum Joe Lovano, drummer Bill Stewart, and bassists Charlie Haden, Marc Johnson, and Dennis Irwin, respectively, for three highly praised albums, Time on My Hands (1990), Meant to Be (1990), and What We Do (1992). Those albums found the oft-electrified Scofield, who played with Miles Davis in the '80s, investigating songs of a more acoustic, often straight-ahead, pre-fusion jazz style. After an over 20-year break, Scofield reunited with Lovano and Stewart for 2015's Past Present. Also joining the group this time is longtime Scofield associate bassist Larry Grenadier, who replaces the late Irwin. As with the quartet's previous work, Past Present is a largely acoustic jazz album, with Scofield playing on an amped, semi-hollow-body guitar. Scofield also supplies all of the compositions on Past Present, some of which, poignantly, were inspired by his son Evan Scofield, who died from cancer at age 26 in 2013. While the music on Past Present harks back to jazz's pre-rock-influenced golden age, there's nothing retro, staid, or unadventurous about the group's performance. This is propulsive, often angular and kinetic music that touches upon low-down blues ("Slinky"), Horace Silver-esque soul-jazz ("Get Proud"), and airy, swinging post-bop ("Museum"). In that sense, it brings to mind the '70s work of Scofield contemporary Pat Martino. Barring 2003's Oh! by the supergroup ScoLoHoFo, Past Present is one of the few times Lovano has recorded with Scofield in recent years and it's invigorating to hear them together; Lovano's warm saxophone dances against the crunchy decay of Scofield's guitar. It's that burlap-on-velvet combination that gives cuts like the languid "Hangover" and the moody "Season Creep" an organic, tactile quality. There's also a gleeful, almost comedic nature to the quartet's interplay, as if the musicians are sharing an inside joke. "Chap Dance," a bright, Western-swing-meets-soul-bop cut, is clearly a somewhat cheeky nod to saxophonist Sonny Rollins' take on "I'm an Old Cowhand." However, the comedic quality sometimes takes on a nuanced, melancholic tone, as on "Mr. Puffy." A reference to Evan Scofield's appearance while undergoing chemotherapy, the song starts out sounding sad, then quickly transitions into a tougher, overtly funky midsection anchored by a guttural, low-end riff from Lovano. Ultimately, the track, as with all of Past Present, is rife with love and in-the-moment energy inspired by Scofield's past experience, but created with a hopeful eye to the future.© Matt Collar /TiVo

Portugal. The Man found the opportunity to work with Brian "Danger Mouse" Burton so important that they scrapped two weeks of recording -- and eight of ten new songs -- in order to start fresh. Changing studio locations from El Paso to Danger Mouse's headquarters in L.A., the collaboration results in the band's most accessible and "mainstream" recording to date. The punchy, rhythm-driven elements in Danger Mouse's production create an elastic tension when contrasted with the band's loopy, hooky, guitar-centric, psych core. He doesn't change their sound, but brightens it, adding textural layers, to make it more dynamic and punchy. Set-opener "Plastic Soldiers" reveals that John Gourley's songwriting, with its wonderfully idiosyncratic world view, remains loaded with signifiers from rock's rich past. Strummed acoustic guitar and synth offer a dreamy intro. A little more than a minute later, the snare and handclaps enter, as do an all but hidden squiggly synth, and strings; the tempo picks up and the groove contrasts sharply with the tune's lyrics. "Creep in a T-Shirt," with its treated vocals, piano, whompy electronic keyboards, and synth horns, offers the trace elements of R&B while never leaving the psych behind. "Purple Yellow Red and Blue" is fingerpopping time -- it's almost funky with a popping bassline, low-end breakbeats, almost shimmering acoustic guitars, chorus-style vocals, a chugging B-3, and piano -- while "Hip Hop Kids" (one of the two songs they kept and re-recorded) isn't, its use of the genre's tight, skittering rhythm, which drives a sprawling meld of distorted electric guitars and washed-out keyboards, is an example of the expansive elements that Danger Mouse brings to the rockist bent in P.TM's aesthetic. The album's hinge track, "Atomic Man," shows the other side: a driving rocker with a near chanted backing chorus and fuzzed-out guitars is brightened considerably with a meaty rim shot snare. Though album-closer "Smile" may be the set's least commercial track, it may also be the finest moment on the entire record. In just under five minutes it combines languid balladry, Baroque pop, a rhythm collision, screaming guitars, and strings. Evil Friends offers ample evidence that the match between Portugal. The Man and Burton expanded the horizons of both parties and will likely heighten the band's profile considerably.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Given the busy schedules of John Grant and Wrangler, it wouldn't have been surprising if their collaboration Creep Show had ended with their 2018 album, Mr. Dynamite. On Yawning Abyss, however, they not only continue the freewheeling creative momentum of their debut, they also present a tighter, more engaging incarnation of their satirical techno, funk, and electro-pop. Mr. Dynamite's deadpan drollery lives on in the cheeky percussion and synth tones on "Steak Diane," where choppy vocal samples and electronics bounce and whoosh with the loopiness of novelty music, but Creep Show spends most of Yawning Abyss taking risks. Most notably, they strip away much of the vocal processing that dominated Mr. Dynamite. Letting Grant and Stephen Mallinder's untreated voices ring out adds more color and humanity to moments such as "Moneyback," which pits Mallinder's dry delivery and Grant's nimble cadence against the grind of an all-consuming capitalist machine. On "Matinee," Mallinder's smoky whispers are the perfect complement to the track's serpentine industrial-disco. When Creep Show do use vocal effects, they do it artfully: Grant is transformed into a robotic voice of judgment ready to give up on the human race ("You are complicit/But you still do not get it") on "The Bellows," Yawning Abyss' poignantly angry prologue. Here and throughout the album, Creep Show fully live up to their name by confronting society's most disgusting qualities with equal parts humor and horror. Yawning Abyss reaches its cathartic peak with "Yahtzee," a cartoonishly scathing portrait of a culture that distracts itself with trivial pursuits while "Nazis tear the country apart," but its more complex songs have just as much impact. The title track's sunny nihilism and nostalgia recall the literary tone of Grant's Boy from Michigan, as does "Bungalow," a suspenseful character sketch that skillfully balances melodrama and gritty realism. Mallinder takes the lead on "Wise," another shadowy standout that traces the journey of getting savvy to the world's disappointments (key lyric: "There is no last laugh"). At once more serious and more playful than Mr. Dynamite, Yawning Abyss homes in on what Creep Show do best, and the ways they skewer corruption and indifference are a treat for fans of any of the artists involved and for anyone else who enjoys eloquent, darkly humorous electronic pop. © Heather Phares /TiVo

10cc's second album was the next phase in what guitarist Eric Stewart called the band's "masterplan to control the universe. The Sweet, Slade, and Gary Glitter are all very valuable pop," he proclaimed, "but it's fragile because it's so dependent on a vogue. We don't try to appeal to one audience, or aspire to instant stardom, we're satisfied to move ahead a little at a time as long as we're always moving forward." Sheet Music, perhaps the most widely adventurous album of what would become a wildly adventurous year, would more than justify that claim. "It grips the heart of rock'n'roll like nothing I've heard before," raved Melody Maker, before describing 10cc as "the Beach Boys of "Good Vibrations," the Beatles of "Penny Lane," they're the mischievous kid next door, they're the Marx Brothers, they're Jack and Jill, they're comic cuts characters, and they're sheer brilliance." Stewart certainly agreed -- he told that same paper, 10cc's music was "better than 90% of the sheer unadulterated crap that's in the charts" and, 20 years on, bassist Graham Gouldman continued, "Sheet Music is probably the definitive 10cc album. What it was, our second album wasn't our difficult second album, it was our best second album. It was the best second album we ever did." Three hit singles spun off the record, and most of the other tracks could have followed suit; it says much for Sheet Music's staying power that, no matter how many times the album is reissued, it has never lost its power to delight, excite, and set alight a lousy day. © Dave Thompson /TiVo