I love this idea – The Guardian (UK) asked musicians to write about one album that everyone loves but that they hate. It takes a marvelous bit of bravery to get this off your chest, and even if I disagree with some of these assessments (ooh, and agree with others) I really like hearing different perspectives.
Here are two excerpts:
The Doors, LA Woman
Nominated by Craig Finn of the Hold Steady
In America when you’re growing up, you’re subjected to the Doors as soon as you start going to parties and smoking weed. People think of Jim Morrison as a brilliant rock’n'roll poet, but to me it’s unlistenable. The music meanders, and Morrison was more like a drunk asshole than an intelligent poet. The worst of the worst is the last song, Riders on the Storm: “There’s a killer on the road/ His brain is squirming like a toad” – that’s surely the worst line in rock’n'roll history. He gave the green light to generations of pseuds. A lot of people told him he was a genius, so he started to believe it. The Velvets did nihilism and darkness so much better – they were so much more understated; what they did had subtlety, whereas the Doors had little or none: they were a caricature of “the dark side”. I actually like Los Angeles, but the Doors represent the city at its most fat, bloated and excessive. Morrison’s death does give rock some mythic kudos, but that doesn’t make me want to listen to the music. In fact, if it comes on the radio, I change the station.
Arcade Fire, The Neon Bible
Nominated by Green Gartside of Scritti Politti
People who enjoy this album may think I’m cloth-eared and unperceptive, and I accept it’s the result of my personal shortcomings, but what I hear in Arcade Fire is an agglomeration of mannerisms, cliches and devices. I find it solidly unattractive, texturally nasty, a bit harmonically and melodically dull, bombastic and melodramatic, and the rhythms are pedestrian. It’s monotonous in its textures and in the old-fashioned, nasty, clunky 80s rhythms and eighth-note basslines. It isn’t, as people are suggesting, richly rewarding and inventive. The melodies stick too closely to the chord changes. Win Butler’s voice uses certain stylistic devices – it goes wobbly and shouty, then whispery – and I guess people like wobbly and shouty going to whispery, they think it signifies real feeling. It’s some people’s idea of unmediated emotion. I can imagine Jeremy Clarkson liking it; it’s for people in cars. It’s rather flat and unlovely. The album and the response to it represent a bunch of beliefs about expression and truth that I don’t share. The battle against unreconstructed rock music continues.
So, which albums do you just hate (you heretic)?