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22-11-2002, 00:42:31
Pitchfork Media (http://pitchforkmedia.com/) have produced a top 100 albums of the 80s (http://pitchforkmedia.com/top/80s/) list, notably mainly for the fact that I own most of the top ten and not a great deal of the rest.

22-11-2002, 09:20:04
Hardly got any of those.

I've got Stone Roses, Licensed to Ill, Appetite for Destruction, Graceland (first album I ever bought).

Scabrous Birdseed
22-11-2002, 09:22:34
I've not heard most of this, but I'd probably hate it all. :)

22-11-2002, 09:23:21
There are a lot I want to get though. If only my financial resources were limitless!

Nills Lagerbaak
22-11-2002, 10:42:11
Has anyone heard any Raveonettes? A danish punk band. Might see them tonight!

22-11-2002, 14:46:48
Hmm, I seem to own 60% of the top ten, 30% of 11-20 section, and 60% of the 21-30 list, yet still I totally disagree with guy's opinions.

Where is Slippery When Wet??? Surely the definative 80's album. Where is the Goonies OST? What about the fecking Tiffany album? Has he not heard of The Bangles? You think I'm joking.... I could go on.

Mr. Bas
22-11-2002, 14:56:07
I only have about 4 albums from that list. Not sure if that's a good thing or not. :smoke:

22-11-2002, 15:02:36
Slippery When Wet! Classic! :beer:

Lazarus and the Gimp
22-11-2002, 20:03:24
Good choices.

073: Coil
Horse Rotorvator
[Relativity; 1987]

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse turn on their steeds, slitting their throats and fashioning from the connected jawbones a plough with which to excoriate the Earth: The Horse Rotorvator. This vision appeared as a dream to John Balance and became the title of his second album. The bulk of these songs are grand, sweeping treatments of themes of death and betrayal, wrought in a collage of noise and restless rhythms. Coil were always their own breed, but the self-conscious drama of 80s industrial culture mediates these bleak meditations. It's the small details that are truly unnerving: a child giggling, fabric rustling and tearing, or the void of silence after a marching band passes. Equally austere, humorous and frightening, Horse Rotorvator stands as one of the more unique projects of its decade. Just make sure to buy an officially minted copy; Coil have cursed the various bootlegs. --Christopher Dare

063: Young Marble Giants
Colossal Youth
[Rough Trade; 1980]

The band would have put it more succinctly, but here's my take: Colossal Youth was Zen disco, new wave haiku, monk-punk that used sweetly perverted Ramones/Pistols minimalism to gently sketch out an exploded drawing of pop music. Though the album's spare, perfectly placed strokes of guitar, bass, organ, and voice would have more of an effect on mopey slowcore types and basement four-trackers, the ineffable thing about the Giants' music was how simultaneously haunting and cheery they could be. "Eating Noddemix" is music for brushing your teeth to the morning after an apocalypse, and the inimitable "Wurlitzer Jukebox" is a dance track for the last man on earth, with a geiger counter relentlessly ticking out the beat. Om, baby, yeah. --Brendan Reid

061: Nurse with Wound
Homotopy to Marie
[United Dairies; 1982]

Steven Stapleton was at his most frightening in the early 1980s, his albums creating stark, edge-of-seat tension with pitch-black textures and foreboding silence occasionally broken by scraping metal and humanoid scurrying. Homotopy to Marie is Stapleton's career apex, a twisted masterpiece of minimalism whispering terrifying suggestions of death rituals and torture chambers. This album creeps. It is horror. The 20-minute title track is avant-garde dismembered for sadists and perverts. "The Schmürz" is hulking army men barking in reverse. "The Tumultuous Upsurge" is a grotesque death rattle with robotic toys laughing in proud hysteria. Do not play this for children. --Ryan Schreiber

060: Bruce Springsteen
[Columbia; 1982]

The legend has Springsteen carrying around a four-track cassette of demos for the new album in a ratty back pocket and then deciding finally to release the tape as it was. Nebraska was a precursor to both the unplugged movement and the four-track bedroom folk that swept the indie world in the early 90s, but none of that would matter now if the music weren't so remarkably good. Springsteen's love of the band Suicide helped shape the claustrophobic sound, and the dawn of the Reagan era is usually cited as the album's chief thematic inspiration. Ultimately, the political climate of its birth is irrelevant, as Springsteen's novelist's eye for detail and character ensure that the stories remain timeless. Live versions of these songs with the E Street band confirm that these songs were meant to be performed by a single man, in a room, alone. --Mark Richardson

050: Spacemen 3
The Perfect Prescription
[Fire; 1987]

Hipsters the world over have tried to assert that, of The Perfect Prescription and Playing with Fire, the latter is Spacemen 3's landmark achievement. You will never tell me this and escape unscathed. Though both are massively haunting works of dystopian misery and contented addiction, The Perfect Prescription's dreamweapon is its stunning melodic depth. Whereas Playing with Fire showed the band already splintering, the bulk of its songs written solo, The Perfect Prescription's tracklist consists entirely of collaborations between the band's two primary members, and proves they were at their euphonic best when working together. The record drips with harrowing accounts of habitual users denying their dependence, yet its droning astral reverence pressures you to try it yourself, replicating the bliss of the altered state in gossamer keyboards and celestially aligned vocals. This is your brain on drugs. --Ryan Schreiber

034: Talk Talk
Spirit of Eden
[EMI; 1988]

There aren't many records out there like this one, a collection of meditative songs so abstracted by their arrangements that it's impossible to pin them to their era. Talk Talk created something so uniquely their own on Spirit of Eden that the only people to effectively traverse that terrain again were Talk Talk themselves, on their 1991 masterpiece Laughing Stock. Instrumental timbres combined in strange ways to create new sounds, and Tim Friese-Greene's production allowed for massive dynamic shifts and passages of glassy clarity. Common modern tags for genreless music like obscuro and post-rock needn't apply-- Spirit of Eden is the sound of elegance itself. --Joe Tangari

032: Hüsker Dü
Zen Arcade
[SST; 1984]

While R.E.M. crossed over into pop territory, a handful of moderately renowned independent bands continued to make hard art: Sonic Youth, Husker Dü, and The Minutemen dashed all conventions, creating astounding, unique material, overflowing with determined conviction. These bands labored in a tenuous, low-income network, playing houses, hole-in-the-walls, and whenever possible, wealthy liberal arts campuses. Most of the people that helped make said network would agree or concede that up to 1984, Zen Arcade was at once the most artistically and commercially remarkable record to come out of their nascent scene. Bob Mould's out-of-step, trademark Gibson Flying V stood for everything the underground were struggling to prop up, and the smarter-than-hardcore rage of "What's Going On" and "Something I Learned Today" silenced any closed-minded quips about the plaintive "Never Talking to You Again". The blinding winter skies conveyed in "Chartered Trips" and "Pink Turns to Blue" exemplify the power of this massive double album, a testament to the frustration and isolation underground bands fought through in the early 80s, as well as the debt we all owe them. --Chris Ott

029: The Replacements
Let It Be
[Twin/Tone; 1984]

Youngish lad that I am, I heard plenty of worship about the 'Mats before I actually got around to hearing their body of work. Once I finally did, it became pretty clear that Jeff Tweedy is merely the reincarnation of Paul Westerberg's relevancy. Through a career that ran from sloppy alcohol-soaked punk to alt-rock grandpaws (nicely summarized in the first two-thirds of "We're Coming Out"), Let It Be stands as the hingepoint, and I snuggled up to it more closely than most albums of either extreme. Since my memories of the 80s are distorted by childhood haze and retrospective kitsch, Westerberg coughing out "Androgynous" with nothing but tape hiss for company is necessary proof that the decade's fashion struggles were about more than bad haircuts and neon. --Rob Mitchum

Lazarus and the Gimp
22-11-2002, 20:07:48
Given the fact that Coil and Nurse With Wound appear, I'm amazed that Current 93's "Dogs Blood Rising" isn't on it.

22-11-2002, 20:10:11
Hmm, Nebraska kind of stands out in that selection Laz, great album though.
Most Bruce Springsteen reminds me of feeling car sick whilst young, but that album I still listen too pretty often. I can perform a mean rendition of State Trooper on the guitar.

Lazarus and the Gimp
22-11-2002, 20:11:47
Actually it's the only Springsteen I've heard that I've liked. Funny...

Yup. "Nebraska" is a great album.

Provost Harrison
22-11-2002, 23:06:36
Interesting list, a lot of good albums there...although I am still going through it...

Provost Harrison
22-11-2002, 23:15:36
I have 'The Queen Is Dead' and 'Murmur' out of the top ten, although there are a lot of bands I like in that lot.

22-11-2002, 23:43:45

23-11-2002, 11:10:07
I like "skylarking", "my life in the bush of ghosts", "imperial bedroom", "psionic psunspot" and "hounds of love". I got some of the other stuff, but

Scabrous Birdseed
23-11-2002, 11:33:57

Lazarus and the Gimp
23-11-2002, 11:35:58
Damn. Vincent passed out.

23-11-2002, 11:49:12
never listened (litsened) to it since 1986