Rolling Stone began life in November 1967 as a monthly print mag. In less than a decade, it earned a reputation as the cultural rag all the cool kids read, a flipbook concerned with political reporting as with covering the modern music scene. Appearing on the cover of the Rolling Stone meant you’d made it. Writing the right article, the right review, could advance your career in a way few other magazines of the time could promise.
Over time, RS's reputation morphed into a jowly, stiff-shouldered creature: rockism incarnate. Old white dudes stuck in what they considered the halcyon days of rock ’n’ roll (a time period perhaps not coincidentally matching up with the halcyon days of Rolling Stone itself). Ferocious repulsion is a common response to many of the lists the mag’s unleashed over the decades; Best Guitarists is always a fun one. But no list, absolutely no list, boils the blood and roils the guts like Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All-Time.
First appearing in 2003, with updates in 2012, 2020, and 2023, it is the gold standard others rush to emulate. Not for its quality or accuracy, necessarily, but for its significance. You may not have bought an issue in your life, or gladly clicked a link to the website, but you understand the meaning of Rolling Stone, comprehend that once you tally up the likes and lumps, a truth remains: Rolling Stone is a recognizable, somehow-still-semi-respectable brand. It took until this year, when our mercurial overlords out West took time off from perfecting a watch that can tell time, blood pressure, and your date of death, for serious competition in the “reputable name shapes narrative” stakes to appear on the cultural landscape.
And I will be getting to Apple’s records. But not before looking back at exactly what Rolling Stone’s lists hath wrought upon the world.
On average, these 500 Greatest Albums lists are one-fifth “yay,” one-fifth nay,” and three-fifths “okay.” Calling anything “great” for the purposes of a list such as this is conferring upon it quality and influence. Albums featured therein impacted music in an inarguably meaningful way. They are, if not liked, then respected. They are, if not popular, at least known via cultural osmosis. Given the percentage of people I come across who are unable and/or unwilling to differentiate between their “favorite” album and the “best” album they’ve heard, it’s no shock that these curated lists inspire more rants than raves.
Per the site, over three hundred artists, producers, critics, and “industry figures” were consulted to create the most recent list. Ostensibly, diversity of opinion results in diversity of list. Which is certainly true, but as I listen to as much different music as circumstances allow, it doesn't change my feelings on the lists in the main. On average, the choices that I find personally disagreeable outnumber the ones I find agreeable, but not by much: 99 to 81, actually.
(The concerted effort to expand representation reveals the rub with ranked lists. I doubt all of the folks perturbed by the presence of Beyonce, Taylor, Kendrick, et. al would be so vociferous in their displeasure if those artists weren’t placed ahead of Dylan, Bruce, and the Stones. It’s much easier on the soul to make room than it is to be surpassed.)
Recency bias is a bad thing when it benefits artists I don’t care for. The 1950s and 1960s combine for 80 entries; the ‘70s, 155; 71 for the ‘80s; 101 for the ‘90s; the oughts, 51; the 2010s, 42. Every decade from the Eighties on back has seen a hit in representation since the 2003 list, which makes sense. The Nineties, however, went from 61 to 101, which only tells me RS wasn’t really paying attention.
From 2003 to 2023, only What’s Going On? and Pet Sounds appear in both top 10s. Sgt. Pepper’s went from top spot to 24, all of a sudden the third best Beatles album. (Fine by me; RS correctly rates Abbey Road fifth overall.) The critical reevaluation of Sgt. Pepper’s is book-worthy, forget blog-worthy, journeying as it has from “justly highly rated” to “slightly overrated” to “somehow underrated” to now “properly rated.”
What’s Going On? didn’t have far to reach the top; it started out sixth-greatest twenty years prior. Why, exactly, Songs In the Key of Life needed so long to reach the top 10 is a puzzler. Blue isn’t my personal Joni fave, but I’d be a goddamn idiot to deny its importance. Trout Mask Replica is also quite vital, yet it went from #60 to not mentioned at all. Weird, given the increased popularity of hallucinogens in this country over the past few years.
Some of the falls fill me with sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, though. Sex Pistols from 41 to 80? Tell me more! Forever Changes no longer 40, now 180? You gotta let me sit down! Only two Smiths albums? Ooh, still too many, but an encouraging trend! U2 only two albums on the list, wow, tell me Jann Wenner ain’t shit without telling me Jann Wenner ain’t shit!
“The older artists are getting shafted!” goes the cry. Well…the older guys, sure. Aretha Franklin and Joni Mitchell both doubled their presence on the list. What’s the big deal, the Beatles still have nine albums and Elton John going from six records to two is fine, because he’s essentially a singles artist. Throw Goodbye Yellow Brick Road on there, that’s solid. And seriously, the Who did not need seven albums on the original list.
The biggest problems with the RS 500 remain: under-representation of jazz, metal, and country music; and the inclusion of greatest hits albums. Complete bullshit cop-out. If that’s the criteria, why aren’t the Red and Blue Albums numbers one and two?
Okay, so that’s what genre-specific lists are for. Rolling Stone does those as well, though I’m kinda wishing they’d not.
2017 saw the 100 Greatest Metal Albums of All-Time, which after the top 30 is an incomplete shit-show. Korn good, Deftones good, but not metal. Evanescence metal, but not good. Twisted Sister rocked for like a month. Marilyn Manson is a mistake. The list also has a fondness for picking the wrong album for the right artist. As the Palaces Burn is cool; Wrath will go down as Lamb of God's legacy record. Why go for copper with Louder Than Love when the iron Badmotorfinger is right there? Choosing Bulldog over Houdini Just a mess. And don’t get me started on Motley Crue having two albums in the top 50. (Well, do, but in person and when you’re sure I’ve had a couple drinks.)
Can’t argue with Iron Maiden or Dio. My fave Slayer doesn’t make it, but my fave Slayer didn’t influence the genre as massively as some others. My fave Slayer? Oh, just you wait. I do like …And Justice For All making the top 20. Metallica will never be that fascinating again. Number one is Paranoid, which can only be replaced with any other Black Sabbath album.
Five years later, the Stone tried their hand at country and hip-hop. The country one is better than the metal one, as it waits until no. 50 to take a turn for the crappy. The top four is a great place to start if you’ve never given the genre a go.
The hip-hop list is the comedy and tragedy masks melted down into word form. Of the 200 records, I wholeheartedly agree with 70 being on and wholeheadedly disagree with 87 of them. That leaves only 43 albums that I either acknowledged as worthy while not feeling gung-ho on either way or just outright disliked, which is the sign of a list compiled by people who have a cursory understanding of the genre upon which they speak. These are the people who think the “G” in Kool G Rap stands for “gangsta.” The people who think Redman is a member of Wu-Tang Clan. The people who would be fawning over Nonphixion if they’d put out The Future Is Now on Matador.
Illmatic at 24 is tolerable, but then there’s Li’l Kim, Future and Cardi B in the top 20—of all-time!—and I’m supposed to respect this list? Chance the Rapper means more than Pete Rock, apparently. And fine, Chief Keef is the godfather of drill rap, and he’s ‘bout that life, but that doesn’t mean his record belongs in the top 40.
I won’t even bitch about Can Ox at 165. At this stage I’m grateful records of that quality are still being mentioned.
Now, the top 5 is fine. Stankonia and Blueprint show a fealty to movement over music—but I’d expect nothing less from the magazine that called side two of Abbey Road “a disaster” in their initial review. Miss E…So Addictive in the top 10 is absurd, though. I love Missy, and she deserves every flower in the shop, but a swing and a miss here.
I’ll wrap this up with a gander at Rolling Stone’s “Best of the Decade” lists, of which they’ve only done four.
Algor mortis had barely begun when Jann’s gang revealed their best of the 1980s, a list in love with all the right names. London Calling number one, sure, revolution and snot and all the stuff the magazine claimed to be but never could be. Purple Rain runner-up, obviously. Murmur at only 8 is mildly shocking given the inflexible tent-pole they had for R.E.M. all the way up through Automatic For the People. Oh look, it’s Daydream Nation at 45. They put it on their Top 500 too. They always will. It’s the only important Sonic Youth record ever, or did you not know that?
No Devo, no Rio, no Reign In Blood, no Dwight Yoakam. If you’re wondering who loved those Pete Townshend, Neville Brothers and Don Henley albums, look no further. One XTC, and it’s Skylarking. Let’s Dance at 83, far too low. Steel Wheels by the Stones at 95 and Was (Not Was) at 99...Jesus, this list is so trash.
The 1990s list is another fuck-me fest. Of the 100 albums named, I found 22 worthy and 20 wasted. My music tastes have evolved over time, of course, but I can’t recall a time I thought, Okay, I’m done listening to this DJ Shadow record, time to put on some U2. (Although don’t be surprised is said sentence, or some variation, appears on Jann's headstone.) Some of the choices are galling: Bridges to Babylon? Sublime? I can at least give RS credit for acknowledging Superunknown and Ten. (The longer Pearl Jam goes, the less credit their music is given. You want a hot take, here’s a hot take: Vitalogy is better than In Utero.)
The 2000s are more interesting musically than the RS list insists. To wit: Kid A top spot, Is This It next, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot bronze. Lots of better rock being made, I assure you. Built to Spill, Erase Errata, Magik Markers. It’s nice to see The Woods, even if it is the least of Sleater-Kinney’s output of the decade. I’ll take it forwards and backwards over whatever blandness U2 threw into the stew. Wait, there’s U2 here? Oh, my friend, there are three U2 albums here. 2 Dylan’s in the top 15, 2 Springsteen in the top 25.
The 2010s list is slightly more palatable, thanks to the likes of Beyonce, Taylor Swift and Kendrick Lamar cancelling out the aural terrors foisted upon me by Billie Eilish, Lana Del Ray and Drake. I may quibble with To Pimp A Butterfly over Good Kid, m.a.a.d City, but I GET IT, Good Kid is just a banger and TPAB has levels. It's not about me, it's about the world around me, and the world around me wants that politically-charged goodness right now.
Here is where I state my umbrage at Kanye West’s dominance of this list. For future posts concerning the 2010’s, remember the preceding sentence, for I feel not like typing it again.
Tomorrow: A new challenger appears! And doesn’t put up much a fight, really!
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