Levelling The Land (China, 1991)

Front-loaded with future folk rock anthems, their second album opens with the ultimate Levellers signature tune, One Way. With its fiddle lead, psych guitar and Madchester-inspired rhythm section, it demonstrated how the band forged their own sound.

Quickly reaching gold status, six months after its release, even the NME was forced to put the band on the cover for the first time. That coincided with the third single (later added to 1992 pressings), the heroic Fifteen Years. Raucous rabble-rousers Liberty Song and The Riverflow were built for gigs. It closes with the dark protest of Simon Friend’s Battle Of The Beanfield.

Zeitgeist (China, 1995)

A veritable revival of fortunes following 1993’s Levellers, Zeitgeist was the band’s commercial peak – their sole UK No.1 album. More accessible with its radio-friendly pop-rock, Hope Street features blatant Led Zeppelin-inspired riffs and melodies on both guitar and mandolin, tied to a Shane MacGowan-esque lyric portraying destitute and displaced nobodies.

It was one of their highest-charting singles, as was a re-recorded/expanded Just The One with Levs hero Joe Strummer guesting on piano. Fist-pumping riff-heavy tracks The Fear and Fantasy (with its Police On My Back-style riff), plus the stirring spiritualism of Menan-Tol, remain setlist regulars.

Mouth To Mouth (China, 1997)

Building on the success of Zeitgeist, this fifth album features some of Levellers’ best-known, most loved and greatest compositions. But timing is everything: the unfortunately titled album was released just six days before Princess Diana’s death. Then, perhaps inevitably, sunny and uplifting lead-off single What A Beautiful Day disappeared from radio playlists overnight.

Undeterred, two months later the band released a follow-up single, a pedal-steel guitar love ballad featuring Eddie Reader on backing vocals. Title: Celebrate. It sank without trace. Funny, that. Still, Mouth To Mouth remains an underrated gem.

A Weapon Called The Word (Musidisc, 1990)

With its themes of social injustice countered with uplifting messages of solidarity, their debut tapped into a disillusioned generation left behind by the preceding decade of Thatcherism.

Chapman’s gravelly vocals and lilting folk-rock melodies established the band’s gestating folk-rock musicianship. Jig-ready fan favourites like England My Home and World Freakshow demonstrate the early-career Waterboys influence (album producer Phil Tennant previously engineered Fisherman’s Blues). Despite never charting, AWCTW was eventually certified gold.

Letters From The Underground (On The Fiddle, 2008)

If you haven’t heard Levellers since the 90s, then start here. Following 2005’s disappointing Truth & Lies, Letters From The Underground sees the band refocused with a heightened, urgent, fiery and stripped-back sound.

Confrontational and contemplative with an array of styles. Americana country and Celtic-influenced folk clashes with rock, most notably on A Life Less Ordinary and Burn America Burn, the latter addressing US school shootings. The ruminative Before The End and raw bluesy rockers like Pale Rider and Fight Or Flight emphasise the diverse yet cohesive whole.

Peace (On The Fiddle, 2020)

Sandwiched in between two ‘Levellers Collective’ albums (reworkings of old tracks, and covers with guest musicians), Peace is a Levellers modern classic, and their first UK top 10 album since Mouth To Mouth over two decades earlier.

Protest song subjects are updated for the 2020s: Generation Fear tackles millennium anxiety and digital overload. Friend sings on Four Boys Lost – the sorrowful story of tragic losses at sea – and duets with Chadwick on the stirring nostalgia of Albion & Phoenix. The uplifting anthemic clatter of Our Future brings light to the shade, closing out the consummate late-career songcraft.

Levellers (China, 1993)

Hugely anticipated following the success of Levelling The Land meant that this self-titled third album quickly sold big advance numbers, entering the UK chart at No.2. But with the band burnt out by 24 months of relentless touring on the back of Levelling, it’s a mixed bag but still an admirable record. Cunningham later described it as “the difficult third album”.

The disparate styles divided opinion – apart from ballad Julie. The acid rave-influenced psych-rock of This Garden is at odds with the pop-rock of Belaruse. In fact, the most ‘traditional’ Levellers track, Dirty Davey, is a cover of a folk-punk belter written by their mentors, McDermott’s Two Hours.

Static On The Airwaves (On The Fiddle, 2012)

A strong follow-up to Letters From The Underground that’s beset with dark melancholy, despairing at the distraction of celebrity culture while civil liberties are quietly eroded without protest – illustrated by the album title and sleeve artwork.

That theme is conveyed in the claustrophobic dark of We Are All Gunmen. After The Hurricane laments missed carpe diem opportunities, and the acoustic, frantic, fiddle-led Forgotten Town decries the loss of community in favour of retail commerce. The highlight is its most personal track: Simon Friend’s devastatingly poignant and affecting ode Alone In This Darkness. Grown men will cry.

Green Blade Rising (Eagle, 2002)

Album seven added sixth official Leveller Matt Savage on keyboards. After the millennium bug of Hello Pig, the band returned to their signature sound, but with a more mature, reflective vibe.

GBR’s environmental theme is conveyed with brooding melancholia, except for the incongruous Wonder Stuff-lite Wild As Angels with its grating vocables. Atmospheric opener Four Winds is a hair-pricking slow burn featuring Friend’s chord progressions and Chadwick’s phrasing reminiscent of classic Waterboys. Pretty Target and Aspects Of Spirit hark back to early 90s Levs, and Pour is an enjoyable lilting melodic ballad.

Hello Pig (China, 2000)

The band’s first hits compilation of 1998 was a commercial success, but also a career waymarker in terms of bookending Levellers’ first decade. As such, they explored new ground on their sixth album.

Despite its ambitious nature and the odd exception to the rule like the accomplished acoustic and orchestral arrangement of Edge Of The World, Hello Pig was not well received by the Levellers faithful. Inspired by late-career Beatles experimentation, its pseudo-psychedelia comes across more like that mercifully brief yet terrible mid-80s jazz-soul fad, later categorised with the awful but deserving neologism of ‘sophisti-pop’.

Blue (Reprise, 1971)

Sudden fame and celebrity didn’t sit well with Mitchell, who chose to escape by taking a year off and mooching around Europe. Her sojourn on the island of Crete helped restore her creative appetite, and she discovered the Appalachian dulcimer and wrote the first batch of intensely personal, emotionally transparent songs that would make up Blue.

The writing is raw and direct, the spare arrangements heightening the lyrical content. My Old Man details her failed relationship with Graham Nash, while All I Want is one of three tunes aimed at another recent partner, James Taylor. Faultless and revelatory, Blue is the ultimate break-up album.

The Hissing Of Summer Lawns (Asylum, 1975)

Anyone who still thought of Mitchell as a boho folkie will have had their preconceptions dashed by this, her seventh album. Experimental and semi-symphonic, it finds her digging deep into jazz, borrowing elements from musique concrète and pre-empting the explosion of world music.

This is best illustrated on the stunning The Jungle Line, which is an exotic mini masterpiece. At the album’s heart lies Mitchell’s withering contempt for the superficiality of ‘respectable’ society, as documented on The Boho Dance and the title track, which features James Taylor on acoustic guitar.

For The Roses (Asylum, 1972)

Tasked with following up the extended confessional of Blue, Mitchell responded with the more impressionistic For The Roses, which saw her shift towards more narrative song structures. The arrangements are subtle and deceptively intricate, fleshed out by strings.

Asylum Records boss David Geffen set Mitchell the challenge of writing a hit single, setting in motion the unashamedly commercial You Turn Me On, I’m A Radio. The song did indeed do the business on the charts, bringing Mitchell her first US Top 30 placing. Elsewhere, the title track lays bare her discomfort with her new-found fame.

Court And Spark (Asylum, 1974)

Mitchell’s sixth album reflected her burgeoning fascination with jazz, roping in Tom Scott and LA Express as her backing band and, in the process, broadening her musical palette. Cue woodwinds, reeds and trumpets as she and a raft of other helpers create an intoxicating blend of sun-blushed sophisti-pop.

The relatively carefree music belies the nature of her often troubled lyrics, which range from rigorous self-examination to deep meditations on celebrity, romantic love and what it means to be free. Help Me gave Mitchell her first (and only) US Top 10 hit, and she truly excels on Free Man In Paris and Down To You.

Hejira (Asylum, 1976)

Named after the prophet Muhammad’s journey of exile from Mecca to Medina, Hejira references Mitchell’s own crosscountry road trip that followed the end of her relationship with drummer John Guerin. The songs find her caught between a thirst for independence and a desire for companionship, by turns philosophical, resigned and hopeful.

This sense of restlessness informs the songs on the record, which fold jazz, folk, poetry and almost-pop into a graceful whole. Jaco Pastorius’s fretless bass runs are a perfect fit for Mitchell’s pared-back arrangements and swooping soprano, heard to stirring effect on Coyote and Amelia.

Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter (Asylum, 1977)

Generally dismissed by critics on release, this sprawling double album of fusionist jazz continues to polarise fans. Detractors claim that’s it’s overlong and unfocused, but it’s actually a joyous survey of music’s transportive powers, Mitchell untethering herself from expectations and flying far and free.

Some of it is deliciously abstract, while bongos, cowbell and coffee cans add to the invigorating sense of release. On a lyrical level, fun-time Joni hits a peak on the title track and the irrepressible Talk To Me: ‘I didn’t know I drank such a lot, till I pissed a tequila anaconda the full length of the parking lot.’

Ladies Of The Canyon (Reprise, 1970)

Mitchell didn’t appear at Woodstock, but her distanced vantage point, watching it on TV, didn’t prevent her from writing the definitive song about the festival and, by extension, the 60s counterculture movement.

Woodstock’s parent album finds her chronicling other matters too, from the contradictions of fame (For Free) to environmental havoc (Big Yellow Taxi) to the loss of innocence in the transition to adulthood (The Circle Game, written in response to Neil Young’s Sugar Mountain). Horns and strings add fresh texture to her favoured acoustic guitar and piano, but it’s her nuanced, fluting voice that most impresses.

Night Ride Home (Geffen, 1991)

The less than enthusiastic response to Chalk Mark In A Rain Storm seemed to sting Mitchell into a new phase of creativity with its follow-up, the intimate feel of which drew a direct line to the early-70s albums that had made her reputation.

Exuding a satisfied warmth, Night Ride Home is nevertheless pitted with vitriol. The Windfall (Everything For Nothing) is a scathing rebuke to a former housemaid, while Slouching Towards Bethlehem is a commentary on American involvement in the Middle East. The exquisite Come In From The Cold, meanwhile, reflects on the rapturous joys of young love as seen from middle age.

Both Sides Now (Reprise, 2000)

Described by co-producer Larry Klein as “a programmatic suite documenting a relationship from initial flirtation through optimistic consummation…”, this jazz-rooted covers album shifted attention from Mitchell’s songwriting to the expressive majesty of her voice. There’s a lived-in huskiness to her singing that lends her choices the full weight of emotional experience.

The London Symphony Orchestra ramp up the drama, on pre-war standards such as Stormy Weather to torch songs made famous by Lena Horne, Etta James, Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald. Mitchell even breathes new meaning into 1971’s A Case Of You and the evergreen title track.

Chalk Mark In A Rain Storm (Geffen, 1988)

Even avid Joniphiles would admit that the 80s was a patchy decade for her, be it the synth-laden Dog Eat Dog or the concession to mainstream pop that was Wild Things Run Fast. But her artistic nadir came at the very end of the decade.

Chalk Mark feels like the bland yuppification of all that Mitchell holds dear, her usual creative instincts quashed by starry collaborations with Peter Gabriel, Tom Petty and, as unlikely as it may seem, Billy Idol. The Reoccurring Dream bolts together samples from TV commercials in a way that feels redundant rather than topical, while the protest songs – Lakota, Cool Water – suffer a similar fate.

Copperhead Road (MCA, 1988)

Earle’s post-Vietnam LP alienated Nashville but drew in a whole new rock audience. Copperhead Road was equal parts hillbilly-roots and bullish rock’n’roll, hitting hard with the title track and seething anti-gun song The Devil’s Right Hand.

The compelling drama of war veterans and illicit moonshine raids came heightened by stadium-sized guitars and booming drums, while Johnny Come Lately, recorded with The Pogues on St. Patrick’s Day, was a roar of invigorating folk-punk. Copperhead Road did brisk business in the US, suggesting Earle could do a Springsteen, but his life was beginning to slide.

El Corazon (Warners, 1997)

Post-smack and post-clink, Earle stormed back with this charged masterpiece that was both political and intensely personal. Nothing summed this up more than Christmas In Washington, a killer acoustic ballad that sniped at Capitol Hill policy-making while taking stock of his own life.

The blustery Taneytown was a harrowing anti-racism song from the standpoint of a 22-year-old retarded black man. Earle flitted across styles too, from bluegrass and country to the thumping biker-rock of Here I Am and NYC, the latter featuring Arizona miscreants The Supersuckers. The closing Ft. Worth Blues was a teary tribute to old mentor Townes Van Zandt.

Guitar Town (MCA, 1986)

A thrilling debut that supposedly took Earle from boy-from-nowhere to hottest thing on Nashville’s block. In truth, it was a desperate last toss of the dice. Earle was already 30 with three marriages and 10 years of fruitless song-hustling behind him.

This was blue-collar country with a literate edge and a raised middle finger to the conservatism of Music Row. Bruce Springsteen’s Born In The USA tour had given Earle the impetus to kick things off with the barnstorming title track: “Well, I gotta keep rockin’ while I still can/Got a two-pack habit and motel tan”. Rolling Stone voted him Top Country Artist that year.

I Feel Alright (Warners, 1996)

Earle’s first album on release from prison was 1995’s acoustic Train A Comin’, but the follow-up feels like the real comeback. His demons were hung out to dry on CCKMP, confessing that “Heroin is the only thing/The only gift the darkness brings”, but I Feel Alright sounds more private new manifesto than meditation on a reckless past.

The production is spare, Earle’s voice is never less than impassioned and there’s everything from rollicking rock (The Unrepentant) to gorgeous 12-bar heartache (South Nashville Blues). There’s even ambient noise, courtesy of Earle’s giant buddy Dub, slapping his palm on the studio stairwell.

The Mountain (E-Squared, 1999)

This was Earle’s attempt at “high-tech, low-risk” bluegrass, recorded with country legend Del McCoury and his band. The instrumentation is bluegrass but the feel is rock as Earle unfurls his tribute to mountain music pioneer Bill Monroe, aided by a dizzying roll call of guests: Cowboy Jack Clement and Emmylou Harris among them.

Fans may have balked at Earle’s confession that bluegrass was his favourite music, but even diehards would surely approve of Carrie Brown, his “real-live-bad-tooth-hillbilly murder ballad”. Connemara Breakdown, meanwhile, was his bluegrass fantasy camp.

The Revolution Starts Now (E-Squared, 2004)

A scathing state-of-the-nation address that sealed Earle’s reputation as Nashville’s foremost radical. Home To Houston carried the lines: “Great God A’mighty what was wrong with me/I know the money’s good but buddy can’t you see/You can’t take it with you and that ain’t no lie/I don’t wanna let ’em get me I’m too young to die”.

Like all things Earle, it’s tempered by humour and warmth, at work here on the questionable lust for Condoleeza Rice (Condi, Condi). “For Johnny Cash and Warren Zevon,” wrote Earle in the album’s liner notes. “See you when I get there, brothers.”

Exit O (MCA, 1987)

The follow-up to Guitar Town was a rougher, tougher affair, with Earle ditching Nashville session pros for his own band, The Dukes. Much of it – The Week of Living Dangerously, Sweet Little 66, Number 29 – had already been road-tested across the US for the best part of a year, aligning Exit O closer to the Rolling Stones in their strutting pomp than anything out of Tennessee.

Nowhere Road would prove to be a signpost for Earle’s own life a few years down the line, while I Ain’t Ever Satisfied wound up as the closest thing to his own calling card. Needless to say, it was all far too rowdy for the powers-that-be at conservative country radio.

Shut Up And Die Like An Aviator (MCA, 1991)

By 1990, Earle’s refusal to comply with country norms, allied to a worsening drug habit, led MCA to free him from his contract with that old fallback: the live LP.

Recorded over two nights in Ontario, Shut Up and Die… finds Earle in gloriously ragged form. Guitarists Zip Gibson and Bucky Baxter drive things along, piling meat on the bone of Earle’s gruff, sometimes shot, vocals. The sizzling intro to Billy Austin is a real highlight, as is an unhinged Copperhead Road. And for proof of Earle’s unclassifiable nature, look no further than two covers: Jimmie Rodgers’ Blue Yodel No.9 and the Stones’ Dead Flowers.

Jerusalem (ArteMis, 2002)

Earle’s sensitive study of Californian Taliban sympathiser John Walker Lindh gave the US press free rein to vent all manner of post-9/11 prejudice. John Walker’s Blues prompted the New York Post to run a story titled “Twisted Ballad Honours TaliRat”, while the rest of Jerusalem was nearly as provocative.

Sifting through the paranoia, Earle’s plea for a nation to pull back from the brink of moral chaos was driven by some mighty tunes. Ashes To Ashes and The Truth are as gloves-off as he’s ever been. Curiously though, the most powerful moment is the broken love song I Remember You, an immaculate duet with Emmylou Harris.

Early Tracks (KoCh, 1987)

Steve Earle just doesn’t do duff. As fellow outlaw Waylon Jennings once observed of him: “He didn’t write no bad songs. And if he did, he hid ’em.” That said, some of Earle’s output is decidedly patchy. Recorded in the midst of his cocaine and smack addiction, 1990’s The Hard Way veers between smart and sluggish. “I defend The Hard Way to the death,” he said in 2000, “because I almost died in the process of making it.”

But most worthy of a wide berth is Early Tracks, a compilation of rockabilly sides cut between 1982-85, a clueless Epic selling their unruly new charge as the lost link between Ricky Skaggs and Gene Vincent.

When Dream And Day Unite (1989)

Dream Theater haven’t made a consistently poor album, but their debut is by far their weakest. Recorded three years after they formed, it suffers from three main drawbacks: a muddy production (by Rush associate Terry Date), relatively rudimentary songwriting and compositional skills (certainly compared to what came later), and the high-pitched yelps of original singer Charlie Dominci, who left the band soon afterwards.

In the plus column were future live favourites A Fortune In Lies and The Killing Hand, and the instrumental The Ytse Jam, all of which pointed towards future greatness.

Falling Into Infinity (1997)

Four albums in and Dream Theater were being devoured alive by the corporate machine. Their only studio album to feature Derek Sherinian on keyboards, the Kevin Shirley-produced Falling Into Infinity suffered from boardroom interference – they were forced by their label to write ‘radio friendly’ material with Desmond Child – almost to point of throwing in the towel.

The likes of New Millennium and Peruvian Skies are reminders that it’s not a bad record, but the arrival of Sherinian’s replacement Jordan Rudess was to prove hugely significant, and its failure only caused the suits to realise that a group such as Dream Theater were probably best left to their own devices after all.

Systematic Chaos (2007)

With their first album for Roadrunner, the band once again elected to follow their instincts. After collaborating with an orchestra for their 20th anniversary show (released as the concert set Score), co-producers Petrucci and Portnoy sought to administer a modern twist to the band’s sound.

Bookended by the two-part epic In The Presence Of Enemies and The Ministry Of Lost Souls, its highlights include the Pantera-esque gallop of The Dark Eternal Night. But the most interesting track on the album is Repentance, which includes spoken-word confessions from Jon Anderson, Steven Wilson, Steve Vai and more.

Dream Theater (2013)

Two albums into the Mike Mangini era and Dream Theater could be forgiven for wiping their collective brow. Less of a walking human hurricane than his predecessor, Mangini was proving a valuable addition to the band, and the quiet life (relatively speaking) seemed to suit them.

From its concise three-part instrumental opening track False Awakening Suite to John Petrucci’s Illumination Theory, a 22-minute beast that featured a string ensemble, their twelfth studio set brimmed with confidence. And like its self-titled predecessor, it also presented another Grammy nomination – something that had eluded them during the Portnoy days.

Distance Over Time (2019)

The group’s fourth post-Portnoy record introduced a new way of working. Responding to the overblown nature of The Astonishing, Dream Theater hired a barn in upstate New York, installed a studio and wrote Distance Over Time in 18 days flat. Its purposeful birthing process spawned a set of mostly shorter and harder-edged songs.

With just one track – the James LaBrie-penned At Wits End – threatening to tip the ten-minute mark, the results felt much more fresh and spontaneous. Thanks to the likes of Bar Stool Warrior and Pale Blue Dot, those numerous critics of The Astonishing felt as though they had their favourite band back again.

Train Of Thought (2003)

Dream Theater’s seventh album is their heaviest. Written and recorded in just three weeks, it reflected the less-than-happy memories of a summer tour they’d just finished with Queensrÿche. That experience at times coloured the sessions: in the lyrics of opener As I Am, guitarist John Petrucci recalled the apparently comical experience of Queensrÿche’s Mike Stone attempting to give him a guitar lesson.

Intentionally or otherwise, the album includes many of Petrucci’s finest solos, but the overall impression conveyed by the record is of unstoppable, if murky, power.

Octavarium (2005)

Perhaps responding to the oppressive, knee-buckling weight and density of predecessor Train Of Thought with what became their final major-label studio release, Dream Theater set out to replicate the vibe of another, far happier tour, spent in the company of the heroes of their youth, Yes.

Octavarium retained Dream Theater’s usual complexities but stepped back into more pastoral territory. Written on piano and guitar, and featuring several songs embellished by an orchestra, just two of its tracks went over the 10-minute mark – although the title track was almost 25 minutes long.

Black Clouds & Silver Linings (2009)

The last album recorded before Portnoy’s proposal of the hiatus which cost him his job, Black Clouds & Silver Linings is Dream Theater at their most song-based recording.

The mood veers towards the dark, and four of its six tracks clock in at between 12 and 19 minutes long, though there’s something timeless about each and every one of its tracks, especially The Count Of Tuscany, The Shattered Fortress and the Rush-flavoured The Best Of Times. The perfect entry point for those intrigued by Dream Theater’s appeal but intimidated by the scale of their universe.

A Dramatic Turn Of Events (2011)

Dream Theater’s second consecutive US Top 10 album, and their first to breach the UK Top 20, was the debut for new drummer Mike Mangini after a long and very public audition process.

Although the songs were in place when he arrived, Mangini brought a precision and technique that banished memories of his predecessor. Singer James LaBrie, who had begun to question Dream Theater’s reliance on heavy metal power, later suggested that with ADTOE the band found “a beautiful balance between progressive rock and metal”. And he was right.

A View From The Top Of The World (2021)

Depending on the listener’s individual preference – Yes-style intricacy or nut-cracking à la Metallica? – A View From The Top Of The World might well be the best Dream Theater album of the post-Portnoy age. Okay, we placed The Astonishing above it, and of course that was a risky statement, but one made purely because this is a band that offers zero apologies for risk-taking.

A View From The Top Of The World is bookended by The Alien, a colossal tech-metal statement, and its title cut, 20 minutes of pummelling, multi-tempoed goodness, but coming after Distance Over Time it offers something for everybody, with a smidgen more emphasis on the progressive.

Parasomnia (2025)

To even have a chance of matching the hype surrounding Mike Portnoy's return to the band, Parasomnia needed to exceed expectations, and it did. Not only did the ‘old’ Dream Theater sound majestic, but they also sounded forward-thinking and celebratory.

Lead-off single Night Terror, which was added to the live set months before the album’s release, was among the best things the band had done. And while the years spent with Mangini at the kit tend to go unappreciated by some, the album heralded an unavoidable aura of regeneration.

Awake (1994)

Awake was the final album Dream Theater recorded with Kevin Moore, the band’s original keyboard player. And he went out on a high, with an album on which their mix of prog rock and heavy metal influences finally gelled. Equally importantly, the likes of Caught In A Web, The Mirror, Space-Dye Vest and The Silent Man showed the band’s songwriting found its feet in no uncertain terms.

It was released during the cold war of the grunge era, and reviews were less than glowing at the time, but hindsight has only served to enhance the importance of Awake in the group’s canon.

Six Degrees Of Inner Turbulence (2002)

Spread over two discs, the second featuring the 42-minute title track, Six Degrees Of Inner Turbulence was a bold and extravagant follow-up to Metropolis Pt 2.

Beginning with The Glass Prison, the first part of a suite of songs written by Portnoy about his recovery from alcoholism, it grapples with such lofty subjects as religion, death and stem cell research, over gargantuan slabs of guitar and keyboard interplay from John Petrucci and Jordan Rudess. The second part is once again concept-based, cataloguing six people plagued by various life-changing illnesses. Challenging in the very best sense of the term.

The Astonishing (2016)

Think big. Think bigger. Think biggest. And then double it and add a zero or two, and you end up close to The Astonishing. Set in what the band described as “a retro-futurist post-apocalyptic dystopia ruled by medieval style feudalism”, the band’s 13th studio album topped anything they’d ever done before in terms of sheer scale and bombast.

With a bamboozling plot that lay somewhere between Star Wars and the Rush classic 2112, The Astonishing was so sprawling that its two hours of music were spread across two discs. Dream Theater performed it live in its entirety, too, of course. Just as they bloody well should.

Metropolis Pt 2: Scenes From A Memory (1999)

Dream Theater set up what they called an “inspiration corner” in the studio during the recording of their fifth album. Existing storyboard standards by Genesis, Marillion, Pink Floyd and others were used to channel ideas for their own debut concept album, which told the complex tale of a man who undergoes regressive hypnosis and discovers that in a previous life he was a woman murdered in the 1920s.

The record’s myriad twists and turns are at times macabre (Strange Déjà Vu, Fatal Tragedy) and uplifting (The Spirit Carries On, Finally Free) – and never less than compelling.

Images And Words (1992)

Dream Theater had to overcome a number of hurdles in order to create their second album, and their masterpiece. Recovering from the embarrassing failure of their debut album, When Dream And Day Unite, for the follow-up they brought in new singer James LaBrie and butted heads with their producer, David Prater, who drummer Mike Portnoy later called “one of my least favourite human beings on the planet”.

Despite all that, it’s difficult to fault Images And Words, which did far more than just enable Dream Theater to let in a vital chink of daylight. In fact its start-to-finish excellence served to open up a skylight to the cosmos.

Astral Weeks (Warner Bros, 1968)

Recorded with a small group of jazz musicians, Astral Weeks remains one of the most singularly original albums in modern music. Its songs unfold as drifting streams of consciousness, carried by acoustic guitars, fluid, acoustic bass lines and Morrison’s freestyling voice.

The extended centrepieces Cyprus Avenue and Madame George capture the album’s dreamlike intensity. A fusion of folk, jazz, soul and Celtic imagery, the album feels intimate and otherworldly. Astral Weeks’s precise combination of musical and spiritual elements has never been replicated by Morrison – let alone anyone else.

Moondance (Warner Bros, 1970)

While Astral Weeks introduced Morrison the mystic poet, Moondance established him as a master songwriter and bandleader. The album transforms his improvisatory musical instincts into beautifully structured songs steeped in jazz, soul and rhythm and blues.

Tracks such as And It Stoned Me, Crazy Love and Moondance illustrate the record’s warmth, elegance and melodic assurance. Nimble drums, walking bass lines and exuberant horn and vocal arrangements give the music a relaxed sophistication. Where Astral Weeks drifts and dreams, Moondance moves with alert confidence and perfect compositional balance.

Tupelo Honey (Warner Bros, 1971)

Curiously, Tupelo Honey remains unavailable on streaming services, and has to be found the old-fashioned way. Recorded after his move to California, it finds him loosening the mystical grip of Astral Weeks and the urban polish of Moondance in favour of something warmer and more open-road. Country, soul, gospel and rolling rhythm and blues blend effortlessly across the record.

The title track stands among Morrison’s most heartfelt love songs, while Wild Night remains one of his most exuberant rock performances. Less visionary than his earlier classics, perhaps, but deeply enjoyable and lasting.

Saint Dominic’s Preview (Warner Bros, 1972)

Here Morrison opens the canvas wider. The centrepieces are the two epics: Listen To The Lion, one of his most extraordinary vocal performances, building from murmured meditation to a roaring, full-throated spiritual release, and the sweeping title track.

The album also contains one of his most joyous hits, Jackie Wilson Said (I’m In Heaven When You Smile), a blast of pure soul exuberance. Balancing mystical introspection with exuberant R&B, it captures Morrison at a moment of creative confidence, when he was stretching song forms and following his instincts wherever they led.

Veedon Fleece (Warner Bros, 1974)

Following his move to America and the commercial breakthrough of Moondance and Tupelo Honey, Morrison briefly returned to Ireland, and emerged with an album steeped in Celtic imagery and introspection. Recorded in spontaneous sessions, Veedon Fleece revives the loose, intuitive spirit of Astral Weeks, its soft arrangements coloured by flute and pastoral atmosphere.

Long regarded as a lost (or overlooked) masterpiece, it carries a powerful creative charge. Songs such as Fair Play and You Don’t Pull No Punches, But You Don’t Push The River drift more than they resolve, leaving a beautiful but elusive album.

Into The Music (Mercury, 1979)

By the end of the 70s, Morrison sounded creatively reinvigorated. A new band featuring saxophonist Pee Wee Ellis gives Into The Music fresh rhythmic lift, while the songs reconnect with the spiritual intensity of his early classics. Bright Side Of The Road brings joyous immediacy, while And The Healing Has Begun and Full Force Gale reach for something more expansive and transcendent.

At its reflective centre, Morrison splices the old standard It’s All In The Game to his own You Know What They’re Writing About, turning a song remembered from his teenage pop years into something deeper. His most complete late-70s album.

Days Like This (Polydor, 1995)

Days Like This is one of Morrison’s most relaxed and quietly confident albums, marking a midcareer recalibration that returned him to the pop mainstream without actively chasing it. The album reached No.5 in the UK and is the only Morrison release to be shortlisted for the Mercury Music Prize (so far).

The title track entered the culture almost immediately, its plainspoken optimism carrying far beyond the faithful, while songs including Perfect Fit and No Religion show a master songwriter paring back excess and trusting feel over flourish. Warm, unforced and deeply connective, this is Morrison at his most accessible and enduring.

His Band And The Street Choir (Warner Bros, 1970)

Issued the same year as Moondance, Morrison’s fourth album is a looser, more exuberant record steeped in R&B and gospel. It sounds almost improvised at times, the musicians pushing the songs forward with infectious energy.

At its heart sits Domino, one of Morrison’s most joyful singles, alongside spirited performances such as Blue Money and Call Me Up In Dreamland. The album captures Morrison revelling in the sounds that first inspired him. The material is uneven and the performances occasionally ramshackle, but it’s an irresistible slice of Morrison’s R&B soul.

Avalon Sunset (Mercury 1989)

Avalon Sunset marked a return to broader accessibility after a run of austere, spiritually searching albums in the 80s. Morrison wraps familiar themes of memory, faith and longing in rich melodic arrangements that sometimes drift toward easy listening but remain deeply felt nonetheless.

The album produced one of his signature songs, Have I Told You Lately, alongside an uplifting duet with Cliff Richard on Whenever God Shines His Light, and the evocative Coney Island, a nostalgic meditation on his Belfast youth. The album’s melodic, mainstream warmth and generosity of spirit reveal another appealing side of Morrison’s art.

Versatile (Caroline, 2017)

Versatile finds Morrison indulging his affection for American standards and jazz-era classics. Opener Broken Record – an original composition – is a witty but essentially throwaway idea – and the performances are perfectly enjoyable. But the album’s predominantly old-school, supper-club repertoire, including A Foggy Day and I Get A Kick Out Of You, sits outside Morrison’s natural territory.

He is a unique stylist, not an interpreter of standards, and unfavourable comparisons with the great singers who first defined these songs are unavoidable. An amiable diversion, perhaps, but not the place to look for the heart of the Morrison catalogue.

Spine Of God (Napalm, 1991)

One of the greatest ever debut albums, Spine Of God still sounds as fresh and exciting as it did when it was first released 30 years ago. An improbable but perfect melange of Stooges abandon, planet-eating psychedelia and punk venom, Spine is a total immersive experience, a dark and penetrating funhouse ride that’s as spaced-out and psychotic as Chrome and just as satanic as any Norwegian church burners.

Ostensibly a satire of over-the-top metal albums, Spine goes so deep undercover it basically becomes the greatest over-the-top metal album ever. Recorded for $3,000, although it sounds like a lot less. In a good way.

Powertrip (A&M, 1998)

Anchored by the outrageous acid-metal masterpiece Space Lord, Powertrip is Monster Magnet’s magnum opus. By far the band’s most straightforward hard rock album, it hammers your skull with hit after hit, from the sleazy grunge of Bummer to the biker-metal bliss of 3rd Eye Landslide.

Wyndorf’s lyrical skills were off the charts at this point (’I’m grabbing her knees like a worm with a mission’), and each song is a cinematic experience in itself. Unlike the band’s earlier material, which always delivered the goods with a knowing wink, Powertrip feels all-in. With Spine Of God they made fun of rock gods; with Powertrip they became them.

Superjudge (A&M, 1993)

Superjudge was Monster Magnet’s second album, and the first to feature the searing, corrosive leads of Ed Mundell. This is the record that cemented the band’s demented genius in the burgeoning ‘alt.rock’ world of 90s rock.

Melding Black Flag and Black Sabbath into one sonic steamroller, and tossing 60s space rock into the mix, Monster Magnet created the ‘stoner metal’ blueprint that hundreds of other bands would follow. It features unapologetically excessive dope’n’roll classics, as well as covers of Howlin’ Wolf and Hawkwind songs that teased out the band’s still mysterious back-story.

Tab 25 (Gitterhouse, 1991)

Technically an EP, recorded prior to Spine Of God but officially released only after that record made a splash, Tab is the band at their most excessive. The title track – with a 32-minute (!) running time – is a brain-melting, couch-of-woe classic that not only predates monolithic longest players like Sleep’s never-ending Dopesmoker, but also manages to toss everything from Krautrock to creepy field recordings in its winding sonic spew.

The rest isn’t quite as out-there but it’s wild, heavy teenage nightmare stuff nonetheless, full of woozy acid rock like the seasick Longhair and the subtle creep of the VU-inspired Lord 13.

Dopes To Infinity (A&M, 1995)

While their ascent to the big league was still just out of reach here, the band already sound like they’re playing for the stadiums. Dopes To Infinity sounds both thoroughly mainstream and hopelessly obscure all at once. It’s like an echo from some alternative dimension where the Flower Travelin’ Band were as big as The Beatles and Judas Priest were actual priests.

Lead single Nagasonic Teenage Warhead was their first hit, and for good reason; it’s like pouring hydrochloric acid directly into your brain. A relentless monster of a record that drips cool from every greasy pore.

Monolithic Baby! (A&M, 2004)

The last gasp of the band’s arena-rock era. All indications suggest they knew it too, since this album wrings out every last over-the-top rock’n’roll cliche it can. There’s a song on here called Slut Machine, for Chrissakes. The absolute banger on Monolithic Baby! is undoubtedly the hook-heavy sleaze rocker Unbroken (Hotel Baby), which somehow evaded hit status, with the positively Kiss-esque strutter Master Of Light not far behind.

Quite honestly this is the band’s best album since Powertrip, and it’s bursting at the seams with righteous 70s motor-rock. Monolithic Baby! is the forgotten gem of their catalogue.

God Says No (A&M, 2001)

Well it wasn’t quite the smash follow-up to Powertrip that everybody expected. That’s probably because only one song on the album, the fiery Heads Explode, followed that record’s Super Rock formula. The rest of God Says No is pretty eclectic, even by Monster Magnet standards.

There’s a bunch of solid, Mudhoney-esque garage-grunge head boppers like All Shook Out, Medicine (a Spine redux) and Melt, and there’s also 60s psych-pop (Kiss Of The Scorpion), discordant gut-bucket blues (Gravity Well) and even lo-fi new wave (Take It). Given the stakes, Monster Magnet probably should of zagged instead of all these zigs, but still, it’s a real adventure.

4-Way Diablo (SPV, 2007)

Dave Wyndorf overdosed on anxiety meds in 2006 and spent some time in a psych ward. If rock history was any indication, we’d expect some kind of From The Inside-esque confessional drivel from 4-Way Diablo.

Well, fuck that. Apart from grunge-ballad I’m Calling You and the – well, okay, you got me – overly dramatic confessional drone-pop of Little Bag Of Gloom, the rest of the album is prime Magnet gonzola. Witness absolute belters like MC5 homage Wall Of Fire, slinky sleaze-rocker Slap In The Face and the blistering You’re Alive. Mountains of churning riffs and defiant howls from the man who just cheated death.

Mindfucker (Napalm, 2018)

Generally speaking, nobody’s asking much from anybody’s eleventh album, but Mindfucker is a surprisingly solid late-period entry in the band’s catalogue. Borrowing heavily from the snarly space-punk of their Spine Of God days, Monster Magnet are in full scorched-earth mode here, blasting out acid-fried room shakers like Rocket Freak, I’m God and the paint-peeling title track like they were still young and hungry.

The only real divergence from the Saturday-night-forever vibes is the dark, free-floating space-prog ballad Drowning. The album could be weirder, for sure, but if you’re looking to get your face melted then it will certainly do the trick.

Milking The Stars: A Re-Imagining Of Last Patrol (Napalm, 2013)

With their heavy touring days behind ‘em, latter-day Monster Magnet projects tend to involve a lot of fucking around. This album is them at their most fucked-around. Essentially a 60s psych-rock revamp of their already sorta plodding 2013 album Last Patrol with a few new scraps and live tracks thrown in to make it a ‘new’ album, MTS is ‘experimental’ in the most commercially crass way possible.

It’s not awful – it’s not Hot Space or anything – but it’s a million miles away from the breathless excitement of their 90s heyday.

Leftoverture (Epic, 1976)

Probably the most successful Kansas album ever – having sold more than five million copies since its release – helped hugely by Carry On Wayward Son being a massive hit worldwide. That track’s commercial leaning was somewhat misrepresentative of the Kansas that recorded it, though.

Its FM radio success in the States suggested Kansas were another melodic rock outfit like Foreigner, when in fact they had far more progressive roots. What Leftoverture did was temper their earlier prog flourishes with a slightly harder edge. But the likes of Magnum Opus and Cheyenne Anthem, though, were as pompous as you’d expect.

Point Of Know Return (Epic, 1977)

A good indication of the US music scene in the 70s is that as the punk wars raged in Britain, across the Atlantic Kansas’s pomp-laden prog rock was ruling the roost.

The follow-up to the massively successful Leftoverture was Point Of Know Return, another slice of intuitively melodic rock that again spawned a huge hit single, in this case the emotive Dust In The Wind (more recently used in a series of Butlins TV ads). The opening title track and Portrait (He Knew) upped the pomp quotient, while Livgren’s highly personal closer Hopelessly Human showed an increasingly spiritual slant.

Power (MCA, 1986)

Having called it a day after 1983’s Drastic Measures, Ehart, Walsh and Williams resurrected Kansas in 1985, with bassist Billy Greer and guitarist Steve Morse. A new deal with MCA saw the release of Power, without a doubt the strongest Kansas album since ’77’s Point Of Know Return.

In the hair metal-friendly 80s, the band did indulge some syrupy balladry (All I Wanted was a modest hit). However, there were still elements of the band’s progressive past in both Tomb 19 and Musicatto, while Silhouettes In Disguise, Secret Service and the title track were strong melodic rockers. Kansas’s finest hour in the 80s.

Song For America (Epic, 1975)

On the back of their 1974 debut, Kansas’s second album went a long way to establishing the band’s progressive credentials. Indeed the 10-minute-plus title track has long been considered the band’s signature tune.

What Song For America does superbly is blend the heavier side of the band with their strong musicality – songs such as Lamplight Symphony and Incomudro – Hymn To The Atman show that the band certainly had the ideas to compete with their flourishing UK prog counterparts. It was also their first album to feature cover art from frequent collaborator Peter Lloyd.

Masque (Epic, 1975)

Released later the same year as Song For America, and displaying the kind of serial work ethic that fired the likes of Yes and ELP in the early 70s, Masque is very much a transitional album for Kansas, pitching in between the unbridled excesses of Song For America and the more measured Leftoverture.

This was mainly the result of their label at the time, Kirshner Records, who began to apply pressure for the band to come up with a hit single. None was initially forthcoming, and it is again the lengthier songs on the album that stand out, not least Icarus – Borne On Wings Of Steel and the epic The Pinnacle.

Monolith (Epic, 1979)

Although not quite as successful as the preceding two Kansas albums, Monolith nevertheless hit the US Top 10. The title refers to the Sioux word ‘Kansa’, from whence the band’s home state took its name. Native American culture had long played a part in the band’s music, and, taken from Monolith, Kerry Livgren’s excellent People Of The South Wind was a hit.

Kansas began the album tour by performing the entire record, but end up performing none of it, believing – wrongly, as it happened – that fans did not like their new work. For Kansas, a wind of change was just around the corner.

Somewhere To Elsewhere (SPV, 2000)

Although Kansas never actually called it quits after their 80s endeavours, they certainly stumbled awkwardly throughout the 90s, with various personnel and ever-diminishing returns. All that changed when the band’s original line-up regrouped for Somewhere To Elsewhere.

Despite Kerry Livgren and Dave Hope’s Christian devotion, which split the band originally, and the former writing all 11 songs, this is a secular album chock-full of earnest prog and hard rock that recalls their Song For America era, even opening with Icarus II. It’s notable that more recent Kansas line-ups have not recorded a new studio album since.

In The Spirit Of Things (MCA, 1988)

Although with 1986’s Power Kansas had resurrected their career somewhat, by the time of the follow-up their label (often ridiculed as the Music Cemetery Of America) had largely lost interest in the band.

A pity, as In The Spirit Of Things was seen by many as the band attempting to recapture their early blend of hard rock and prog, down to the conceptual nature of the album (about a flood wiping out the real Kansas town of Neosho Falls). In fact MCA’s main input on the record was forcing the band’s hand by getting outside writers to write a few (out-of-place) ballads in the hope of getting a quick hit. They failed.

Audio-Visions (Epic, 1980)

Of the final three albums released by Kansas during their original incarnation, the first, Audio-Visions is the best, retaining stronger links with the classic Kansas sound than either Vinyl Confessions or Drastic Measures, and having less of the overt Christian imagery that guitarist Kerry Livgren was introducing.

It was also the last Kansas album to feature Walsh, who quit over the religious leanings. He was replaced for two albums by the less emphatic John Elefante. Audio-Visions is mainstream melodic rock – the kind of thing Kansas had been falsely accused of indulging in during the 70s. Strange how things turn out.

Drastic Measures (Epic, 1983)

The second and final album from Kansas with John Elefante on board is, without a doubt, the one that sounds the farthest away from the band’s original musical intentions. Although the band members had too much integrity for it to have been made in an AOR-by-numbers kind of way, it certainly comes close to sounding like it was.

While the overt Christian sentiments (by now Livgren and bassist Dave Hope held sway in the band) merely come across as cloying, the new direction split the band’s audience and irritated the critics. It was their worst album – although Always Never The Same and Freaks Of Nature were close behind.

In The Court Of The Crimson King (DGM, 1969)

Their debut has left an indelible mark on the prog genre. There’s an eerie beauty about the title track and Epitaph that reflects the way Crimson could capture emotion in the small detail of their musical excellence.

Skating away from the usual blues inclinations of the time, the band bring together disparate idioms such as jazz and folk, and give the results their own virtuosic sheen. This records shines with a brightness that makes it one of the most outstanding albums of the era. The care and vision marked out Crimson as occupying their own musical dimension. Nothing else sounds like this.

Red (DGM, 1974)

In some ways, it’s astonishing that Crimson’s seventh album was recorded at all. The band were in the throes of breaking apart, and would split up shortly after it was released, ending the first phase of their career.

Red is arguably the heaviest KC album, the title track possessing a driving, agitated force – perhaps because Fripp was rather withdrawn, leaving drummer Bill Bruford and bassist John Wetton to direct the sessions. The result is primitive and, at times, violent. Starless is an epic that twists like a tornado but is always anchored to a brutal ambience. The triumph of Red is the schizoid relationship between civilised freneticism and stark sophistication.

Larks’ Tongues In Aspic (DGM, 1973)

The birth of the band’s third incarnation marked a change of attitude, as Fripp determined to take Crimson into a more free-form existence. Violinist David Cross was a lynchpin of this new approach, while Jamie Muir’s eccentric percussion expanded opportunities for the musicians to be vividly experimental.

This was most obvious on Larks’ Tongues In Aspic (Part One), a lengthy instrumental that butts jazz fusion against 20th-century classical excursions and added heavy metal embellishments. It would be the blueprint that would define King Crimson for years to come.

Starless And Bible Black (DGM, 1974)

The band faced a writing crisis when percussionist Jamie Muir retreated into a monastery. They solved this dilemma by giving free reign to their musical reflexes.

The resulting album was essentially improvised, and largely recorded live. The title track is taken from a session in Amsterdam. The only two tracks fully laid down in the studio were Only The Great Deceiver and Lament; the former dealt with the march of commercialism, while the latter dealt with fame. The overall impact of the album was refreshing, with the musicians emphasising the revelry of instinct over discipline.

USA (DGM, 1975)

A live document of the band’s 1974 US tour, released as Crimson split for the first time – in fact, Fripp ended his sleeve notes on the original version with the stark ‘R.I.P.’ But USA captured the essence of one of their most essential periods.

It opens with the catatonic drone of Walk On… No Pussyfooting, leading into the aggressive jolt of Larks’ Tongues In Aspic (Part Two). The rest of the set underlined the magnitude of Crimson’s superiority as both musical magi and a primal force. Some of David Cross’s violin parts had to be overdubbed in the studio by Eddie Jobson, but that

THRAK (DGM, 1995)

The band’s first new album for more than a decade was created by a line-up that Fripp dubbed a “double trio”. The result was very dense, but never alienating.

It’s fascinating to hear how the six musicians would set themselves up in varied ways. At times, as on the title track, it sounded like a battle between two trios, playing off against each other in a musical war. But on Dinosaur they all worked in a restless unison. Here, the percussive instincts of Bill Bruford and Pat Mastelotto set up a dark structure within which Fripp played a freaky, outlandish guitar solo. It’s an intensely charismatic recording.

Lizard (DGM, 1970)

An oddball KC album. Not only did the line-up that recorded it never play live, but also bassist/vocalist Gordon Haskell later admitted he was uncomfortable with the way the album turned out. Maybe part of the reason was because Indoor Games concludes with his uncontrollable laughter, because he thought Sinfield’s lyrics were ludicrous.

Elsewhere, Happy Family is about The Beatles’ break-up, even nodding towards the Fabs’ While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Jon Anderson guests on the title track, which is the longest studio track Crimson have ever recorded. The album’s jazz feel and its perverse idiosyncrasies alienated some fans, though.

Discipline (DGM, 1981

After a seven-year hiatus, King Crimson returned with a revamped line-up. Only Fripp and Bill Bruford remained from the previous era, joined by former David Bowie guitarist Adrian Belew and bassist/Stick maestro Tony Levin.

Fully aware of the way music had changed while they’d been away, Crimson adapted to modern tastes, mixing jazz rock with a new-wave approach – something best encapsulated in the way Fripp and Belew’s wildly differing guitar styles complemented one another. The result was 70s prog meets 80s art rock, and as such it seemed to be a linear extension of what Fripp had done the previous year with his short-lived League Of Gentlemen.

Happy With What You Have To Be Happy With (DGM, 2002)

This is an EP that’s more than just something to fill in time until the next album. It has a self-contained individuality, highlighting the relationship the band enjoy with contemporary icons. The title track pinpoints the way Crimson have inspired modern artists such as Tool, yet also shows Fripp’s ability to soak up influences from them.

There are also strangely contemplative narratives from Belew on Bude and She Shudders, which use an effect to make his monologues sound eerily robotic. Eyes Wide Open is vulnerably poignant, while Mie Gakure is a sharply

Three Of A Perfect Pair (DGM, 1984)

No King Crimson album is bad, but this one is worth leaving until you’ve indulged in the rest of their back catalogue. Here the band did try to make their sound more palatable for the mainstream, although claims at the time that they were looking for pop success were hardly true.

While the more obvious melodic leanings are offset by some brusque experimentation, nothing works quite as well as it did on its predecessor-but-one, Discipline (they were separated by 1982’s Beat). The soundscape instrumental Industry is worth considering, but the album is strained. No wonder they split, for a decade, shortly afterwards.View Deal

Humanity: Hour 1 (Sony, 2007)

The Scorpions found themselves out of step with prevailing trends in the 90s, and floundered as a result. But the low point of their career came in 2007, with this misguided attempt to contemporise their sound.

Bringing in Midas-like songwriter/producer Desmond Child is understandable, although why they thought it necessary to enlist the help of Smashing Pumpkins mainman Billy Corgan and ex-Marilyn Manson guitarist John5, only Rudolf Schenker knows. The upshot was a chaotic mess. If the plan was to prove their relevance, it backfired badly. The sole saving grace is that they never made Humanity: Hour 2.

Eye II Eye (East West, 1999)

A pop rock mess. While this band have always written huge anthems and intensely melodic songs, here they abandoned their well-honed approach, and the result was disastrous. This was a lightweight release, with scarcely any sign of riffs or guitar solos, and a strange reliance on keyboards, provided by producer Peter Wolf.

To Be No. 1 was decent enough, but the rest of the material had the sniff of being Def Leppard cast offs. This was a classic band desperately attempting to be relevant – and falling flat.

Pure Instinct (East West, 1996)

At least this was a little better than Eye II Eye, but that’s hardly praise. The problem here was that the production was too smooth. Keith Olsen, renowned for his commercial instincts, was brought in, and he neutered the Scorps’ tendency to open up and really go for the throat.

The songs themselves aren’t at all bad, and you get the feeling that with a more sympathetic production Wild Child, You And I and Does Anyone Know? could have been outstanding, But here, they slither and flop. A wasted opportunity.

Lonesome Crow (Brain, 1972)

The debut Scorpions album, and a bit of a curio. It’s the only one they made with Michael Schenker as a full-time member. And, despite his youth, he was just 16 at the time, some of his solos here are remarkable.

But overall, you can tell this was a very young band searching for a direction. This is very psychedelic, and it doesn’t really suit the band’s burgeoning talents. However, In Search Of The Peace Of Mind is impressive, and overall the album has a musical value.

Face The Heat (Mercury, 1993)

While the band here began their trawl through contemporary trends, in order to fit in with what was happening, unlike subsequent attempts, this is actually quite enthralling.

You’d never regard this as being close to the Scorps’ classic albums, but producer Bruce Fairbairn brought out the poppier side of the band without ditching the hammer blows they could wreak. And it also helped that the songs were more than reasonable. Alien Nation and Under The Same Sun had class and depth.

Sting In The Tail (Sony, 2010)

For once, the goal of updating the Scorpions’ sound to make it fit into the modern world actually almost worked. Unlike previous efforts, this time the band didn’t make the mistake of just scrapping everything they’d done previously and rushing headlong into a contemporary cul-de-sac.

A more thoughtful approach meant they kept the best elements from the 80s and finessed these. The Good Die Young featured a sparkling duet between Klaus Meine and Tarja Turunen, and the whole album hummed with purpose.

Fly To The Rainbow (Sony, 1974)

This is really where the Scorpions as we know them truly began. With Ulrich Roth coming in to replace Michael Schenker, the band opened up their horizons, combining Roth’s fascination (some might call it an obsession) with Hendrix and a sharper, harder sound.

You can hear how this worked on songs like Speedy’s Coming and the title track. The band had found their niche, and here they embraced it with feeling. This was British hard rock, but given an individual twist. Nobody else sounded quite like this.

Taken By Force (Sony, 1977)

The final album with Roth, and while it perhaps showed signs that the style which had helped them to break through internationally was becoming a little jaded, there are still some powerful moments. None more so than the mesmeric We’ll Burn The Sky.

And The Sails Of Charon, plus the suggestive He’s A Woman, She’s A Man were also right up there with the best of the band’s output in this era. Controversy raged over the album artwork, but that was almost the norm for this lot.

Unbreakable (BMG, 2004)

Released on the back of a series of mediocre albums and unwise dabblings with ‘modern’ trends, Unbreakable thankfully saw the Scorpions returning to what they did best. Their original plan was to reunite with producer Dieter Dierk. And while that never materialised, the band still managed to come up with a set of straightforward, melodic hard rock anthems in the classic Scorpions tradition.

What really made it work was that they weren’t trying to be anything other than themselves on songs like New Generation, Someday Is Now and Remember The Good Times. The result: their best record for more than a decade.

Savage Amusement (Harvest, 1988)

In many respects, Savage Amusement was the end of an era for the Scorpions, in that it was the last of their albums to be produced by Dieter Dierks and also their final album for the Harvest label. Released four years after Love At First Sting, it was a surprisingly low-key affair.

While it lacks any stone-cold Scorpions classics, Rhythm Of Love and Believe In Love both hold their own, even if the overly glossy production dates them inextricably to their time. But even if Savage Amusement did fall short of the band’s best material, it still managed to show that the Scorpions hadn’t completely lost their sting.

Return To Forever (Sony, 2015)

When the Scorpions announced they intended to revisit old ideas abandoned in the 80s and work them up into songs for a new album, it sounded very desperate. But against all expectations, the plan worked brilliantly.

Return To Forever was the Scorpions returning to what they do best, and coming up with a triumphant set of songs. The band sounded energised and excitable once more, and through We Built This House, House Of Cards and Going Out With A Bang, they roared again.

Crazy World (Mercury, 1990)

Aka ‘The One With Wind Of Change on it’. The band’s biggest hit was either risible or inspirational, depending on your tolerance for lighters-in-the-air anthems about world peace delivered by whistling Germans. Beyond that freakishly successful single, Crazy World is the best Scorpions album of the 90s.

Crucially, the songs retained a strong connection to their past: the likes of Tease Me Please Me, Don’t Believe Her and Lust Or Love wouldn’t have sounded out of place on Animal Magnetism, and the sweeping Send Me An Angel is up there among the band’s finest ballads. There are one or two dips, but it doesn’t disgrace the band’s heritage.

In Trance (Sony, 1975)

Their first album with Dieter Dierks producing, and the one with which the band moved away from their early psychedelic leanings. It’s squarely planted in the world of mid-70s hard rock, with Roth’s virtuoso guitar pyrotechnics a vital counterpoint to the more commercial leanings.

Top Of The Bill celebrates life on the road, and Night Lights allows Roth to show off his chops. But there are some evocative moments too: the title track is the sound of a band who haven’t fully shed their psychedelic skin, while Robot Man is eerily effective. In Trance was also the first album to feature what is now the unmistakable Scorpions logo

Virgin Killer (Sony, 1976)

It’s tough to get past the controversial and, frankly, ill advised sleeve, but musically Virgin Killer is probably the Scorpions’ greatest 70s album. The material was consistently stronger than at any other point during Roth’s tenure with the band, as proved by the number of songs that would become major live favourites in the ensuing years.

Catch Your Train and the dynamic Picture Life positively gallop along, while Polar Nights enable Roth to stretch his creative muscles and show that there was more to him than rehashed Hendrix licks. This album was a key step in the Scorpions’ musical development.

Rock Believer (Vertigo, 2022)

In 2022, the Scorpions' formula remained gleefully intact: galloping guitars and deft choruses – or, as Meine encapsulated ungrammatically in Gas In The Tank: "louder, play it hard". Meine’s vocals retained their emotional undertow, Jabs’s guitar playing still sizzled, and the engine room could still power a small town.

Titles such as the sirens-drenched Gas In The Tank (naturally, this particular engine is not running low, especially since "the king of riffs is back in town"), Unleash The Beast and Knock ’Em Dead re-enforced the message: age will not wither them.

Animal Magnetism (Harvest, 1980)

At the time, the controversy surrounding yet another provocative cover distracted from the music. Animal Magnetism also suffered from being sandwiched between their standout albums, Lovedrive and Blackout.

But there’s much to recommend: The Zoo, with its menacing rhythm, is an all-time Scorpions classic; Make It Real is an electrifying anthem; and Don’t Make No Promises (Your Body Can’t Keep) picks up where the equally lurid Another Piece Of Meat from Lovedrive left off. Throw in the Zeppelin-esque stylings of the title track, and you’re left with an unfairly underappreciated album.

Lovedrive (Harvest, 1979)

Exit Uli Jon Roth, enter Matthias Jabs for the album which found the Scorpions embracing the slick hard rock approach with which they made their name. With Jabs on board (and, on Coast To Coast, Michael Schenker guesting), the songs were sharper and shorter, as well as a little less reliant on extensive guitar solos than during the Roth era.

Dovetailing perfectly with what peers like AC/DC, Aerosmith and Ted Nugent were doing at the time, the Scorpions added arena sparkle to the title track, Another Piece Of Meat and Can’t Get Enough, and the soft-centred Holiday brought another vital element to the band’s armoury: the big, weepy ballad

Love at First Sting (Harvest, 1984)

It’s tempting to suggest that the success of breakthrough single Rock You Like A Hurricane was the sole reason this album became so huge, but that would be misleading. In reality it was down to the fact that the band were at the very top of their game on what remains the classic Scorpions album.

Love At First Sting is packed with high-quality songs that struck a chord with the US market but retained their European roots, and the party metal of Bad Boys Running Wild, fan tribute Coming Home and the heartfelt ballad Still Loving You proved to be winners not only on record but on stage as well.

Blackout (Harvest, 1982)

After half a decade on the cusp, this was the album that marked the band becoming major international players. As they eased into the 80s, the Scorpions became confident and comfortable with the demands of the era.

From the moment that instantly recognisable staccato riff ushers in the title track, there’s not a wasted moment: the pop rock sensibility of No One Like You, the Eastern-tinged inflections of China White, the epic balladry of When The Smoke Is Going Down, and thunderous set-closer Dynamite. Even more remarkable is that Meine was suffering potentially career ending throat problems when they recorded it.

REO Speedwagon - Hi Infidelity (Sony, 1980)

This fine band from Illinois had existed for 12 years before their shot at stardom finally arrived. Seven studio and a pair of live albums paved the way for what became one of 1981’s biggest arena rock records, which eventually sold nine million copies.

Sung by Kevin Cronin (one of the most unmistakable voices in melodic rock), Keep On Loving You established itself among the most famous power ballads of all time, and the harder but equally memorable Take It On The Run, Don’t Let Him Go and Follow My Heart reminding us of the band’s rock credentials.

Styx - Paradise Theater (A&M, 1981)

The last of the Chicago band’s four consecutive triple-platinum releases, Paradise Theater was a concept piece based on a fictional, once glorious but now rundown entertainment venue in their home town – and also a metaphor for the American dream.

For all its unlikely plot, and in stark contrast to the arguments that by now had enveloped the band, Paradise Theater is a cohesive collection of songs, from the strident Rockin’ The Paradise to the pop of Tommy Shaw’s Too Much Time On My Hands, and the Dennis DeYoung crooner The Best Of Times. Styx were living on borrowed time, but it didn’t show.

Foreigner - 4 (Atlantic, 1981)

Disappointed by just three million sales of their previous album, and bickering incessantly, Foreigner were down to a four-piece for their fourth album. Inspired by producer Mutt Lange’s work with City Boy, Foreigner invited him to help their revised band find their feet.

Although Lange could be notoriously difficult, “we were lucky to catch Mutt before he became completely maniacal,” guitarist Mick Jones once told Classic Rock. Juke Box Hero, Urgent and Woman In Black vindicated this decision, the sleek ballad Waiting For A Girl Like You whetting most of the group’s appetite for more of the same.

Journey – Escape (Columbia, 1981)

Journey’s seventh studio album and the group’s fourth with Steve Perry on vocals, Escape represented the perfect distillation of the AOR sound. It’s an exquisite, almost flawless collection of songs, produced to shiny perfection by Kevin Elson and Mike Stone.

Although the full seismic impact of a second single, Don’t Stop Believin’, would not manifest itself until the following millennium when exposed to a new generation of fans, back in the 1980s Escape yielded three further smash 45s, topping the American chart and transforming Journey into stadium-level headliners. Its many delights remain much copied yet never surpassed.

Toto - Toto IV (Columbia, 1982)

Despite having trouble holding on to vocalists, Toto made some fine albums in the 1980s, including Isolation (’84), Fahrenheit (’86) and The Seventh One (’88). But it’s Toto IV that most fans come back to.

Featuring one of rock music’s most emotive ballads, I Won’t Hold You Back, plus the hits that saved the band from certain extinction by transforming them into a household name – Rosanna and Africa – Toto IV is quite brilliantly constructed. In 1982 the music industry was stunned when the band took home six Grammys for Toto IV. But six was only fair – it meant they could keep one each.

Michael Bolton - Everybody’s Crazy (Columbia, 1985)

What’s not to love about former Blackjack singer Michael Bolton’s fourth solo album (the second to use the abbreviated form of real surname Bolotin)? Joined by ex-Blackjack and future Kiss guitarist Bruce Kulick, plus AOR royalty in Mark Mangold, Peppy Castro and Terry Brock, Bolton wraps his lungs around some of the genre’s most accomplished compositions.

The title track set mature rock fans blubbing with joy, and Desperate Heart was later covered by Jefferson Starship. Alas, Bolton then turned his back on melodic rock, cultivated the worst mullet in history and became a granny pleaser of the most embarrassing kind.

Europe - The Final Countdown (Epic, 1986)

Few who saw it will forget the first time they saw poodle-permed Joey Tempest leading his equally fluffy bandmates through the video for The Final Countdown.

Although that title song would top the charts in 18 different countries, the Swedish band’s third album is far more than a one-trick pony. Rock The Night and Cherokee kicked like the proverbial mule, Danger On The Tracks was a fine slice of serrated-edged pomp, and Carrie was a top-notch ballad.

The album’s popularity was too much for guitarist John Norum, but after a period of inactivity the classic line-up reformed in 2003.

Bon Jovi - Slippery When Wet (Vertigo, 1986)

It’s very difficult to overstate the effect that Slippery When Wet had on both a slowly stagnating melodic rock scene and the music world at large. Almost overnight it seemed Jon Bon Jovi went from virtual unknown to having his grin and vast hair on the covers of everything from Smash Hits and Metal Hammer to The Dental Gazette.

This album, Bon Jovi’s third, definitely merited all of that attention. From the passionate You Give Love A Bad Name and Livin’ On A Prayer to boisterous closer Wild In The Streets, it was the sound of a band igniting a genre and also their own self-confidence.

FM - Indiscreet (Portrait, 1986)

A slap in the face to all those who believed the UK would never produce a band to match the North American giants, Indiscreet was the debut from London-based five-piece FM. Modestly produced by their manager, it was the soulful vocals of guitarist Steve Overland and a batch of masterful songs that separated FM from the chasing Brit pack.

Lively, warm and infectious, songs like That Girl, American Girls, Hot Wired and I Belong To The Night all ably strode the pop-rock barrier, while Frozen Heart is a near timeless ballad.

Def Leppard - Hysteria (Bludgeon Riffola, 1987)

Indignant at he and his bandmates being mistaken for members of Europe or Bon Jovi at airports during the painstaking four years (during which drummer Rick lost an arm in a car accident) it took to complete this, Def Leppard’s fourth album, bassist Rick Savage once said that Def Leppard’s goal with Hysteria was “to show who sounds like who”.

With its tribal rhythms (Rocket), scintillating guitar harmonies (Animal, Love Bites, Pour Some Sugar On Me), and awash with the studio trickery of producer Mutt Lange, Hysteria went on to sell a staggering 16 million copies.

Small Faces - Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake (Immediate, 1968)

Packaged in an engagingly surreal sleeve that parodied a well-known brand of tobacco, the Small Faces’ masterpiece is a gleeful toke of very English psychedelia. It’s also very much an album of two halves.

Side one comes stacked with buzzing rock-soul like Rene, Afterglow Of Your Love and the infectious Lazy Sunday, while side two is devoted to a concept about Happiness Stan, who meets talking flies and crazy hermits on his quest to discover the dark side of the moon. Comedian Stanley Unwin links the songs as the band play faerie-folk delights like Mad John and the pure anarchic revelry of Happydaystoytown.

Humble Pie - Performance: Rockin’ The Fillmore (A&M, 1971)

They were impressive enough in the studio, but playing live was where Humble Pie really excelled. This sprawling double album, recorded in New York in May 1971, is a magnificent showcase for Marriott’s searing vocals and his fierce interplay with fellow guitarist Peter Frampton.

Apart from the rampaging might of Stone Cold Fever, the songs are spirited covers, from the slow jam of I’m Ready to extended versions of Rolling Stone and the R&B classic I Don’t Need No Doctor. Perhaps the pick of the bunch is a titanic reconfiguration of Dr. John’s I Walk On Gilded Splinters, stretched out dramatically over a wholly compelling 24 minutes.

Small Faces - Small Faces (Decca, 1966)

Nothing epitomised the youthful optimism of full-swing London like the Small Faces’ debut album. The quartet were East End mods at source, creating R&B grooves and tight rhythms for the pounding rush of purple hearts.

Original keyboardist Jimmy Winston was replaced halfway through the sessions by Ian McLagan. A jumped-up version of Sam Cooke’s Shake is great, though it’s the songwriting nexus of Marriott and Ronnie Lane that ultimately stands out. Whatcha Gonna Do About It, co-written with Ian Samwell, landed them a first Top 20 hit, while You Need Loving was later appropriated by Led Zep for Whole Lotta Love.

Small Faces - Small Faces (Immediate, 1967)

Evidently sick of manager Don Arden’s reported habit of withholding their pay cheques, the Small Faces threw in their lot with the Immediate label at the end of 1966. The upshot was this second album proper (sharing its name, confusingly, with their first) that shows them beginning to move away from hard-charging R&B, and instead lacing their songs with psychedelia and fizzy pop art.

There’s a taut economy at work here, not least on the music hall‑ish All Our Yesterdays and a fully stoked Get Yourself Together. The acid-flavoured Green Circles, meanwhile, would find its way into Donovan’s Hurdy Gurdy Man.

Humble Pie - Rock On (A&M, 1971)

Peter Frampton’s studio swansong with Humble Pie (prior to undertaking a solo career that would include Frampton Comes Alive!) is a consummate distillation of their heaving blooze rock. The cocky bluster of Rock On was partly due to the fact that Marriott had been road-testing the songs for some time.

Co-produced with the Small Faces’ old engineer Glyn Johns, standouts include Stone Cold Fever and Marriott’s tender ode to his first wife, A Song For Jenny, on which the band are joined by soul sirens Doris Troy, PP Arnold and Claudia Lennear. And rarely has Marriott sounded as inflamed as on the bluesy Strange Days.

Humble Pie - In Concert: King Biscuit Flower Hour (King Biscuit Flower Hour, 1996)

With Frampton now gone, Humble Pie had essentially become Marriott’s vehicle by the time they pitched up for this show at San Francisco’s Winterland Theatre in May 1973. He’s on ebullient form throughout, as the band run through a set that leans heavily on post-Frampton LPs Smokin’ and Eat It.

Clem Clempson does a fine job as Marriott’s guitarist foil as they tear through Up Our Sleeve and a soulful take on Honky Tonk Women. Marriott is particularly fiery on a spectacular 30 Days In The Hole and the open-ended I Don’t Need No Doctor.

Humble Pie - As Safe As Yesterday Is (Immediate, 1969)

Humble Pie’s debut is, as you might expect from a new band drawing from disparate backgrounds in the Small Faces, The Herd and Spooky Tooth, fairly free-ranging in scope. Hence this grab-bag of wild electric blues, hard rock and psychedelic folk-pop, with harpsichords, tablas and the odd sitar.

There’s also a palpable sense of Marriott and Frampton jostling for space, although the former bags the lion’s share of the songwriting. Stirring hit single Natural Born Bugie is curiously absent, but Buttermilk Boy and Bang! are declarative examples of what Rolling Stone referred to, in an early use of the term, as ‘heavy metal’.

Humble Pie - Smokin’ (A&M, 1972)

The arrival of former Colosseum guitarist Clem Clempson, as Frampton’s replacement, ensured that Humble Pie’s fifth studio album carried enough firepower to maintain their status as boogie boys of the heaviest order.

Indeed, Smokin’ proved to be their biggest seller, making the UK Top 30 and the US Top 10. You’re So Good To Me and Hot ’N’ Nasty (one of two songs featuring guest Stephen Stills) both suggest that the Black Crowes would never have happened without Humble Pie, while 30 Days In The Hole, in which Marriott laments being busted for drugs, became a live favourite. The strain of the sessions led to Marriott collapsing from nervous exhaustion afterwards.

Steve Marriott - Marriott (A&M, 1976)

Humble Pie had spluttered to a sorry end by 1975, amid reports of financial mismanagement and debilitating substance abuse. Drummer Jerry Shirley was candid enough to admit that “the main reason was that we were making bad records”.

Marriott duly returned to the UK from the US and set about making a deliberately schizophrenic solo album. The ‘British’ side recaptures the derring-do of Humble Pie at their best, especially East Side Struttin’ and a rewired version of the old Small Faces tune Wam Bam Thank You Ma’am. Side two is altogether different, showing an intuitive grasp of American soul, gospel and R&B.

Humble Pie - Go For The Throat (Jet, 1981)

Having become increasingly devoid of ideas, both 1974’s Thunderbox and 1975’s Street Rats reinforced the notion that Humble Pie were right to call it a day in the mid-70s. Marriott was less judicious, however, when he opted to re-form the band with Jerry Shirley (plus Bobby Tench on guitar and ‘Sooty’ Jones on bass) for 1980’s On To Victory.

Although sparks were lacking, sales were enough to warrant a follow-up, Go For The Throat. Alas, Marriott’s gruff, unreconstructed R&B sounded passé in the new post-punk climate. It was also an album that smacked of quiet desperation, evinced by redundant covers of Elvis’s All Shook Up and the Small Faces staple Tin Soldier.

What About Now (Mercury, 2013)

“The record is sounding great,” Richie Sambora told Classic Rock ahead of the release of What About Now. He also promised: “We’ll be at a stadium near you very soon!” But as it turned out, the album was a long way off being great, and – more significantly – Sambora quit the band before the first stadium show of their 2013 world tour.

Jon Bon Jovi promptly installed Phil X as his new guitarist, and for Sambora, after the best part of 30 years’ service, What About Now proved a sadly underwhelming swan song. From lame self-help anthems Because We Can and Army Of One to the Springsteen-lite of The Fighter and What’s Left Of Me, it’s surely the worst album Bon Jovi have ever made.

Burning Bridges (Mercury, 2015)

Bon Jovi’s first album without Richie Sambora was also their last for Mercury Records. The best track, Saturday Night Gave Me Sunday Morning, is actually a Sambora co-write, possibly included as a warm send-off to the guitarist.

There is nothing warm, however, about the album’s title track, a parting shot at Mercury’s powers that be, in which JBJ spits. “Here’s a last song you can sell/Let’s call it Burning Bridges/It’s a singalong as well/Ciao, adieu, goodnight, guten abend/Play it for your friends in hell.” Such piss and vinegar would be more admirable were it not for the fact that this album reeks of contractual obligation. JBJ described its contents as “songs that weren’t finished, that were finished, a couple of new ones…” In short, a dumping ground, which he had the chutzpah to call a “fan record”.

2020 (Island/Universal, 2022)

The release of Bon Jovi’s 15th album was delayed for five months by the global pandemic. As a result, two late additions were made to the track listing, including a song named American Reckoning, a meditation on the death of George Floyd and the birth of the Black Lives Matter movement.

Musically and lyrically, American Reckoning is very much influenced by Springsteen. What the song lacks is vocal power – a weakness that runs through the whole of this album. There is no hiding that. However, even at his youthful peak, JBJ would have struggled to get anything out of songs as flimsy as the bland opening track Limitless and the hokey ballad Story Of Love.

Bounce (Mercury, 2002)

In the wake of 9/11, Bon Jovi’s response was an album with a life-affirming message. This much is set out in the lead single, Everyday, of which Richie Sambora said: “Time is the most precious thing that you have, so you should try to live every moment to the fullest.”

The album’s title track is built along similar lines, with a defiant positivity in the lyrics and a dense guitar sound. For all the good intentions, however, it’s an album lacking in both depth and finesse. Amid a bunch of formulaic songs co-written with Swedish pop producer Andreas Carlsson is a ballad, You Had Me From Hello, that Westlife might have considered too cheesy.

Forever (Island/Universal, 2024)

First there was Forever. Then, a year later, there was the Legendary Edition, featuring re-records with a host of guest stars. The original album marked the debut of a seven-piece line-up recognising guitarist/producer John Shanks and percussionist Everett Bradley as official band members. More importantly, it was the first new recording since Jon Bon Jovi had vocal cord surgery.

For all that, it’s another humdrum album from a band that has been sleepwalking for years now. The whoah-oh hook in Legendary, the lead single, is a faint echo of past glories. The Legendary Edition includes a new song, Red, White And Jersey, which is as corny as its title suggests, and among the various duets (with Robbie Williams, Avril Lavigne and others), there’s a dream come true for JBJ – singing with his hero Springsteen on the sombre Hollow Man, the best song on the album.

This House Is Not For Sale (Island/Universal, 2016)

In Richie Sambora’s absence, John Shanks handled the guitars as well as production on 2015’s Burning Bridges. A year later, the band’s 14th studio album saw both lead guitarist Phil X and long-serving bassist Hugh McDonald elevated to full band member status. This House Is Not For Sale was also the first album for new label Island Records, and it arrived with JBJ boldly proclaiming: “This record is about our integrity. Integrity matters and we’re at a stage of our career where we don’t have anything left to prove.”

Classic Rock reviewer Emma Johnston concurred: “At this stage in their career, these old dogs don’t need new tricks.” But she added, with unerring accuracy: “This House Is Not For Sale is no masterpiece, and while the punchy title track sonically nods to their heyday, most of it is made up of by-numbers pop.”

Destination Anywhere (Mercury, 1997)

Jon’s second solo album saw him venturing a long way from Blaze Of Glory territory. Destination Anywhere is a mature mainstream pop-rock album with none of the hard rock swagger of his band in its prime. The mood is generally low-key, and it’s the subtler songs that work best – Staring At Your Window With A Suitcase In My Hand, It’s Just Me and Every Word Was A Piece Of My Heart, the latter with shades of U2’s With Or Without You.

Oddly, it’s the songs picked as singles that have aged less well – Queen Of New Orleans, with a stagy drawled vocal, and Midnight In Chelsea, with a prominent bass riff and “sha-la-la” chorus like a parody of Walk On The Wild Side.

Have A Nice Day (Mercury, 2005)

In the three years between Bon Jovi’s eighth studio album, Bounce, and their ninth, Have A Nice Day, there were two major releases from the band: the hits remix collection This Left Feels Right and the rarities box set 100,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can’t Be Wrong.

Overall, Have A Nice Day wasn’t much different to Bounce, although the songwriting was marginally stronger – as illustrated by the title track, Who Says You Can’t Go Home and Bells Of Freedom. There’s also a little of the old rowdiness in Last Man Standing, a strangely bitter song about the music business from a man who’s made millions out of it. Also, in an alternative version of Who Says You Can’t Go Home, with Jon in a duet with country singer Jennifer Nettles, there’s a taste of what was to come on the 2007 album Lost Highway.

Lost Highway (Mercury, 2007)

JBJ described Lost Highway as “a Bon Jovi record influenced by Nashville” – in other words, not strictly a country record. But it’s not far off. Production is split 50/50 between John Shanks (promoted in 2024 to rhythm guitarist for the band) and Dann Huff, the former leader of cult AOR band Giant who has since become a leading figure in modern country music.

In addition, two tracks are duets with country artists – Till We Ain’t Strangers Anymore with LeAnn Rimes, We Got It Going On with the duo Big & Rich. The album’s title has echoes of late-‘80s John Cougar Mellencamp, but the standouts are Whole Lot Of Leavin’ and Any Other Day, expertly crafted songs with a perfect balance of country flavour and rock drive. 

The Circle (Mercury, 2009)

Richie Sambora got a little carried away when he said of The Circle: “It rocks hard!” In reality, Bon Jovi’s eleventh studio album and fourth US Number 1 didn’t punch with the same weight as the band’s 80s classics. But it was a marked improvement on 2007’s cheesy country-crossover Lost Highway.

Its first single, We Weren’t Born To Follow, is a vintage Bon Jovi anthem. Brokenpromiseland is U2 on steroids. And although Work For The Working Man didn’t ring as true as Livin’ On A Prayer now that Jon Bon Jovi is worth over $400m, the song was cited as an inspiration by Barack Obama’s chief advisor David Axelrod. At least it wasn’t Dick Cheney.

Blaze Of Glory (Mercury, 1990)

When Jon Bon Jovi’s debut solo single Blaze Of Glory hit Number 1 in the US, it appeared that the band might be finished. But in the end, all Jon needed was a break from a gruelling album/tour cycle. Blaze Of Glory – a mythic cowboy song like Wanted Dead Or Alive – was the theme to the Western Young Guns II.

Featuring heavyweight guests (Jeff Beck, Elton John, Little Richard) and several fine songs (notably Justice In The Barrel), the album was certainly more successful than Jon’s bit part in the film (gunned down in seconds). Better, too, than his other solo album, 1997’s pop-rock turkey Destination Anywhere.

Crush (Mercury, 2000)

Eight years after Keep The Faith updated Bon Jovi’s sound for the 90s, another monster hit, It’s My Life, repeated the trick in the next decade. In a controversial move, Jon and Richie wrote It’s My Life with Swedish hitmaker Max Martin, whose previous clients included Britney Spears.

But not only is this song one of the heaviest Bon Jovi have ever recorded, it’s also a throwback to their 80s pomp, with a classic fist-in-the-air chorus, talk-box guitar from Sambora echoing Livin’ On A Prayer, and lyrics referencing that song’s lead characters Tommy and Gina. The remainder of Crush is at best solid, but no matter: It’s My Life did all the hard work.

7800 ̊ Fahrenheit (Mercury, 1985)

Although the title of Bon Jovi’s second album recorded the temperature of volcanic lava, the reaction from press and public alike was at best lukewarm. 7800 ̊ Fahrenheit was only a minor hit (US 37, UK 28), and left Bon Jovi lagging far behind their rivals. But while it’s no Slippery When Wet, this album is due a reappraisal.

There are some great songs here. In And Out Of Love is prime mid-80s cock rock and best of all is Tokyo Road, a propulsive hard rocker with Jon’s most risqué lyric (“Snortin’ whiskey, drinkin’ coke...”). Fahrenheit is Bon Jovi’s most underrated record.

These Days (Mercury, 1995)

Four of the five band members who recorded the debut album stayed in Bon Jovi for 30 years. But the fifth, Alec John Such, was ‘let go’ before this, the sixth album, his exit attributed to that great rock‘n’roll misnomer, “substance abuse”. With old friend Hugh McDonald replacing Such (albeit not as an official member) the Bon Jovi machine kept rolling on. In the UK, These Days hit Number 1.

Hey God was a powerful modern rock anthem, and on the title track Jon came as close as he ever would to emulating his hero, Bruce Springsteen. For many, this was Bon Jovi’s last great record.

Bon Jovi (Mercury, 1984)

In the first UK review of Bon Jovi’s debut album, veteran critic Paul Suter stated: “Jon Bon Jovi has assembled a band of classic finesse... blessed with a commerciality that should ensure plentiful sales and success.” He wasn’t wrong.

Bon Jovi’s debut didn’t “do a Boston”, but it reached 43 on the US chart. Runaway was the standout track, a supercharged hard-rock anthem, recorded in ’82 before the band existed, with Jon using session musicians. But other brilliant songs, such as Roulette, proved that Jon’s new boys had something special. This album, for all its naivety, is the Jovi connoisseur’s choice.

Keep The Faith (Mercury, 1992)

In the year when Nirvana’s Nevermind topped the US chart, Bon Jovi survived the great hair metal bloodbath by playing it very smart. Jon made headlines by having a haircut, and the band released the symbolically titled Keep The Faith.

The album redefined Bon Jovi as a stadium rock act for a new era. Its title track and flagship single delivered the band’s trademark radio-friendly hooks in a more modern style. The nine-minute Dry County showcased a growing maturity. And the cheesy Bed Of Roses kept the soft rock fans happy. If Slippery... made Bon Jovi’s career, Keep The Faith saved it.

New Jersey (Mercury, 1988)

After the phenomenal success of Slippery When Wet, Bon Jovi didn’t mess with a winning formula on the next record, retaining producer Bruce Fairbairn and Child, who co-wrote this album’s juggernaut of a hit single, Bad Medicine.

Having planned on using another innuendo – “68 And I Owe You One” – for the album’s title, they chose instead to honour their roots with New Jersey. And the influence of Jersey’s favourite son, Bruce Springsteen, was evident in Blood On Blood. New Jersey topped the charts in 10 countries and yielded five top 10 US hits, the biggest ever haul for a hard rock album at that point.

Slippery When Wet (Mercury, 1986)

Currently ranked as the 34th biggest-selling studio album of all time, with 28 million copies sold worldwide, Slippery When Wet is an 80s arena-rock classic. Moreover, it rescued Bon Jovi’s career after their second album, 7800 ̊ Fahrenheit, flopped.

Their saviour was songwriter Desmond Child, who, with Jon and Richie, wrote the two breakthrough hits You Give Love A Bad Name and Livin’ On A Prayer. However, the singer and guitarist also wrote some great stuff without Child: the rock-star-as-outlaw anthem Wanted Dead Or Alive, and crowd-pleaser Raise Your Hands. By some distance, Bon Jovi’s best album.

Sheet Music (1974)

“They’re the Beach Boys of Good Vibrations, the Beatles of Penny Lane… they’re sheer brilliance,” Melody Maker wrote of 10cc’s second album, and it was no overstatement. This was 60s pop given a 70s technological lustre by four men who knew their way equally well around a chord change and a studio console.

Sheet Music is a classic of smartness and concision, compressing an array of styles into its 10 tracks, from anti-capitalist rant The Wall Street Shuffle to a song about an aeroplane bomb (Clockwork Creep) and a Technicolor epic about Marilyn Monroe (Somewhere In Hollywood). Music for the eyes and ears.

The Original Soundtrack (1975)

From its Humphrey Ocean-pencilled cover image to its songs about Christ’s no-show, pornographers and drug dealers, 10cc’s third album was a darker affair than its predecessors.

That noir tone extended to the three-art tale of prostitutes and murder in the French capital, Une Nuit A Paris, an eight-minute mini-operetta that surely influenced Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Then there was production landmark I’m Not In Love, arguably the most twisted love song ever to reach No 1, and, with its revolutionary use of looped, layered voices, a signpost for 10cc fans such as Trevor Horn to follow. Eighties pop began here.

10cc (1973)

The balloons-and-bombs logo providing the central image on their debut album’s sleeve superbly captured 10cc’s cartoon logic. It’s a sensational showcase for their skills, including doo-wop pastiche Donna, rock’n’roll revisit Rubber Bullets, early-60s pop homage The Dean And I and revenge-of-the-nerds anthem Sand In My Face.

Elsewhere 10cc rail against the Fourth Estate (Headline Hustler) and driving too fast (Speed Kills), although the latter could easily be about amphetamines, such is 10cc’s ambiguous wit. The fact that they were charting – high – with this stuff was testament to their subversive ingenuity.

How Dare You! (1976)

The last album by the original four didn’t scale the giddy heights of its predecessors, and instead of madcap glee there is a fin-de-siecle feel to 10cc’s satirical pun-gency, from the weary sexual subtext of Head Room to the ‘dumb waiters waiting, sweating, straining/All mass-debating my woman‚’ on Don’t Hang Up.

Still, a lacklustre 10cc was worth most bands at full throttle, and their melodic invention and prog-pop penchant for switching styles and tempos were present on I’m Mandy Fly Me and Art For Art’s Sake, while I Wanna Rule The World crammed several albums’ worth of ideas into four minutes.

Deceptive Bends (1977)

10cc split in 1976, giving us the art-school axis (Godley & Creme) and the professional songwriter wing of Gouldman and Stewart. The latter, retaining custody of the 10cc name, emerged as the commercially viable partnership with Deceptive Bends, including The Things We Do For Love and Good Morning Judge, possessing the pizazz of yore.

The album even had its own G&C-style tripartite song suite in Feel The Benefit Pt 1-3. People In Love was a lachrymose ballad too far for Godley, prompting his and Creme’s departure long before the album was recorded, but Honeymoon With B Troop proved Stewart and Gouldman could do quirky too.

Godley & Creme: Consequences (1977)

Consequences found Godley & Creme at the furthest extreme from their former bandmates. A triple box-set concept album concerning ecological disaster, with narration by comedian Peter Cook and a cameo from jazz singer Sarah Vaughan? Hardly surprising that Godley had baulked at the banal limitations of People In Love.

Consequences was an audacious quasi-musical with avant-garde elements. Some of it was accessible, but G&C insisted on adding random noise bursts to it. Still, there were tracks that proved their pop sensibility was intact, albeit surrounded by acres of demented experimentation.

Bloody Tourists (1978)

For those who’d been following the band members’ story since the 60s, the Gouldman-Stewart iteration of 10cc will have been manna from heaven, with the focus now on traditional songwriting verities. Gone, largely, were the manic zips between tempos/styles, replaced by a more measured, mellow MOR approach.

Bloody Tourists did have its wry moments – Dreadlock Holiday being the obvious example – and there were bursts of pop absurdity such as Shock On The Tube (Don’t Want Love), but it was mainly adult easy listening, with signs that our heroes were becoming increasingly estranged on solo writing forays.

Godley & Creme: L (1978)

The job of maintaining 10cc’s reputation as the brothers of invention was left to Godley & Creme, who with their second album produced a pithy showcase for their wayward talents with a single, 30-minute LP.

There were no conceptual digressions, just pop songs. Or songs-within-songs: This Sporting Life featured a Zappa-esque collage of fragments. Hit Factory/Business Is Business suggested they’d been scarred by the hostile reaction to Consequences, but elsewhere fun was on the menu, such as the playful doo-wop of Art School Canteen. If L sounds like two art-school kids running amok in the studio, that’s because it is.

Godley & Creme: Freeze Frame (1979)

On their third album, Godley & Creme came across as peers of the new-wave art-punk brigade. The title track was mutoid funk that name-checked the early 10cc (when they were called Hotlegs) hit Neanderthal Man. With their referential, postmodern techniques, 10cc were more precursors of the sampling age than they were remnants of the Merseybeat era.

And G&C picked up that mantle admirably here. On I Pity Inanimate Objects, all voices and instruments are tweaked and treated. Marciano is pristine proto-electronica. Guest guitarist Phil Manzanera described G&C as the two smartest operators he’d ever worked with, Eno included.

Look Hear? (Mercury, 1980)

With its Hipgnosis artwork making capital (letters) of the phrase ‘Are You Normal?’, you could have been forgiven for assuming there might be a return to playful, peculiar 10cc on their seventh album.

Instead it’s awash with sensible songwriting, the corollary, perhaps, of a band, previously fearless, responding cautiously and conservatively to changing market conditions. Look Hear? was full of middling rock, cod-reggae, lifeless ballads, and pop without any of the irresistible choruses or prankster attitude of yore. The same, sadly, can be said of any of the remaining albums bearing 10cc’s name, from 1981’s Ten Out Of 10 to 1995’s Mirror Mirror.

Never Turn Your Back On A Friend (MCA, 1973)

Budgie’s third album is the perfect distillation of their style. Characterised by Tony Bourge’s inventive riffs, the high-pitched vocals of Burke Shelley and Ray Phillips’s industrious drumming, it is the work of a group full of self-confidence, who also benefitted from their first own production.

It contains the Metallica-popularised Breadfan, their most famous composition, plus the epic Parents, the latter debatably Budgie’s finest 10-and-a-half minutes. The bonus features of 2004’s expanded edition include footage of Breadfan from The Old Grey Whistle Test in 1973.

Bandolier (MCA, 1975)

With its clever, Planet Of The Apes-esque cover image of budgies on horseback, Bandolier is Budgie’s most varied collection of songs. Introduced by Breaking All The House Rules, a boogie shuffle with a punchy guitar motif, this fifth album also has its fair share of drama. Slipaway is an achingly beautiful ballad, while the album’s single, a remake of Andy Fairweather Low’s I Ain’t No Mountain, displayed unappreciated chart potential.

But unquestionably its piece de resistance is the seven-minute Napoleon Bona-Parts One And Two; seductive and soft at the beginning, juxtaposed with a thunderous yet melodic climax.

Budgie (MCA, 1971)

Budgie’s self-titled debut was recorded in just three days with Black Sabbath producer Rodger Bain. The 2004 remaster narrowly failed to rectify its muffled sound. Sometimes used as a lead instrument, Shelley’s Geddy Lee-style screech and the band’s exploration of time signatures detract from Bain’s sludgy mix, resulting in a prime slab of beefy 1970s hard rock.

Looking back at this album, Shelley called the band’s instrumental skills “a bit dodgy”. But there’s no mistaking the spark of material like Nude Disintegrating Parachutist Woman and Guts, both of which remain in their current live set.

Squawk (MCA, 1972)

Once again produced by Rodger Bain (though this time in a week), Squawk saw Budgie attempting to occupy more progressive-inclined airspace. Although only a year after their debut, the band’s maturity was evident, from Tony Bourge’s extravagant guitar solo during the electrified pounding of Rocking Man, to the airiness of the acoustic Rolling Home Again and the Zeppelin-flavoured Make Me Happy.

The union of Shelley and Phillips’s rhythmic interplay and Bourge’s fretboard dexterity is best displayed on Hot As A Docker’s Armpit, a song indebted in part to Mars from Holst’s The Planets Suite.

In For The Kill (MCA, 1974)

With newcomer Pete Boot lacking Ray Phillips’s timekeeping discipline, Budgie’s fourth album was an absolute juggernaut. Although Boot turned out to be a temporary appointment his bulldozer technique was perfect for In For The Kill’s marauding title song (covered by Van Halen in their bar band days).

Crash Course In Brain Surgery was also made famous by mega-fans Metallica, and Zoom Club and the powerful blues of Hammer And Tongs bring strength in depth. And no Budgie album is complete without an interlude of lightweight whimsy, in this case Wondering What Everyone Knows.

The BBC Recordings (Noteworthy, 2006)

Condensing the best bits from a pair of two-discs archive sets (1997’s We Came, We Saw… and the following year’s Heavier Than Air – Rarest Eggs) into a more manageable size, The BBC Years documents five sessions for the Beeb.

There are four songs from London’s Paris Theatre in 1972, a John Peel session two years later, three tracks recorded for The Friday Rock Show in 1981 and, best of all, material from two highly popular appearances at the Reading Festival from the early 1980s. With 23 tracks on offer there’s some duplication, but this collection is worth buying for the Reading material alone.

Impeckable (A&M, 1978)

Frustrated by MCA Records’ lack of commitment, Budgie had moved to A&M for the previous album, but internal problems (including multiple divorces) failed to improve the situation.

Impeckable saw Tony Bourge add some funk-infused licks to his repertoire but it turned out to be the guitarist’s swansong. If, as Burke Shelley has claimed, the band were too preoccupied with lawyers to have fully developed its content, this self-produced album could have been frighteningly good.

There’s scarcely a second-rate song here, and All At Sea, Pyramids, Don’t Go Away, Don’t Dilute The Water and stage favourite Melt The Ice Away are all exceptional.

Power Supply (RCA, 1980)

Of the reunited Budgie’s three albums with guitarist John Thomas, Power Supply pips the following year’s Nightflight at the post. But it’s a very close call.

With the focus on shorter though equally dynamic and more tastefully produced material, aptly titled bruisers like Forearm Smash, Gunslinger and the pick of the bunch, Crime Against The World, the reborn Budgie were embraced by aficionados of the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal, despite the limp Time To Remember. A 2000 Repertoire Records revision adds the If Swallowed Do Not Induce Vomiting EP.

You’re All Living In Cuckooland (NotewoRthy, 2006)

Unlike many of their contemporaries that returned from 20-year recording breaks, Budgie offered not even the faintest whiff of tokenism with You’re All Living In Cuckooland. Burke Shelley and Steve Williams had gigged extensively with their new (now departed) guitarist Simon Lees, whose style integrated flashy lead runs and the heavy-duty riffing of his many predecessors, best exemplified by Dead Men Don’t Talk and Justice.

The hugely memorable title song was an engaging slice of balladry, I’m Compressing The Comb On A Cockrell’s Head was yet another trademark preposterous title.

Deliver Us From Evil (RCA, 1982)

With their last original album for 20 years, Budgie lost the plot. The tracks were so plastered with keyboards that the band ended up borrowing Ozzy’s Lindsay Bridgwater to join them on the road. And it says plenty that Shelley described Alison as “a really middle-of-the-road song for my girlfriend”.

Truth Drug, Bored With Russia and Hold On To Love are isolated face-saving moments, but Deliver Us From Evil sounded suspiciously like the work of a Budgie nailed to its perch. To borrow a line from Monty Python: “It would no longer ‘Voom’ if you put four million volts through it. He’s bleedin’ demised!”