Massive Attack - Mezzanine

Virgin: 1998

The only Massive Attack album you probably have, despite many critics pointing to their other albums as the ones you’re supposed to have. Not sure what the consensus between Blue Lines and Protection is, though I’m almost certain the group’s (duo’s?) post-millennium material is generally held in lesser regard than Mezzanine. This one smacks right in the middle of the transition, but due to the super aggressive marketing the mighty Virgin machine did for the album, critics can’t help themselves in being contrarian, pointing to an earlier effort as the definitive Massive Attack experience. Back when they were still a tightly-knit band that included burgeoning vocalist wunderkind Tricky as part of their roster. Back when they were laying the groundwork for an entire genre, and not simply cashing in when trip-hop was at its peak of prominence.

Hah, no, Mezzanine isn’t a cash-in, though Massive Attack definitely got mad paid here. Angel and Teardrop are among the most heavily licensed tracks in their discography, only losing out to Unfinished Sympathy for top honors; and that one had a seven year start on these two. On the other hand, additional singles Risingson and Inertia Creeps weren’t anywhere near as successful, the latter failing to chart even in the UK. Considering how trendy trip-hop was in the late ‘90s, with Teardrop hitting Top 10 in Massive Attack’s homeland that same year, it’s surprising such popularity didn’t translate into further success for their singles. D’at album sales number, tho’! Were Teardrop and Angel enough to propel Mezzanine into the stratosphere of platinum accolades? Yeah, but all those critical awards the album earned after needed strong songs to prop it up, and we have those in spades too.

Right, I quipped Mezzanine not being as critically hailed as their earlier records, but Massive Attack didn’t earn those ‘one of the greatest bands of all time’ plaudits in a vacuum. When tasked against their contemporaries, the original Bristol posse was nigh untouchable, always uttered with just that extra bit of reverence when compared to the likes of Portisehead and Morcheeba. The fact Massive Attack could come in at trip-hop’s apogee and release such a smooth flowing, densely dark album like Mezzanine is nothing less than brilliance. In lieu of the multitude of copycats, Robert del Naja (Mr. 3D) desired taking the group closer to the realms of post-rock - out of the domain of dubby-thick hip-hop that defined the genre they’d built. The move paid off, broadening the band’s appeal into the world of indie music and movie scores. It also gave them room to further explore their sound, fusing gritty guitar tones and cinematic flourishes with their vintage big beats, dense reverb, and somber urban soul, generally keeping each track fresh and unique throughout for a required playthrough.

Not everyone was on board with this development, original member Andrew “Mushroom” Vowles leaving Massive Attack after this. The enduring popularity and lasting legacy of Mezzanine suggests ol’ 3D was onto something special though. Dream on.

Atrium Carceri - Metropolis

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Of course I’d give Atrium Carceri a go in my Cryo Chamber splurge. This label may not even exist without Simon Heath’s early success with the project. In short order he carved a deep incision within the dark ambient scene, injecting it with many albums under the guise. Ew, sorry for the metaphor, but when one looks at that early material on Cold Meat Industry - with albums like Cellblock or Seishinbyouin (translation: mental hospital), and Eldritch horror cover art as found on Kapnabatai - Lord knows it gives you all the fidgety creeps right out of Silent Hill. Though I’ve much fondness for Mr. Heath’s Sabled Sun material, I’d need a sturdy frame of mind to take on those Atrium Carceri LPs. Or, y’know, bulk buy them and see what happens.

His early albums were considered instant classics, no small feat considering the pedigree Cold Meat Industry carries for connoisseurs of dark ambient. Most of those focused on singular spaces though, derelict buildings and decayed populaces, creating a loose mythology in the process. When he resurrected Atrium Carceri for Cyro Chamber, Simon saw more potential in the project, expanding the early lore to encompass an entire civilization. What could have caused such rot among these people? Who were those in power that allowed it to happen? Where did all these strange obelisks come from? Were there any survivors able or willing to unearth these secrets, to perhaps rebuild? Yeah, the ‘exploration of dying/extinct societies’ is pretty consistent with Mr. Heath’s dark ambient work. Heck, he even scored a game called… The Old City: Leviathan. Play to your strengths, yo’.

Metropolis sets out to unearth some of the Atrium Carceri secrets, a mini-quest of discovery from The Gargantuan Tower, Across The Seas Of The Dead to a Decrepit City, through an Industrial District into the Heart Of The Metropolis, where you’ll encounter The Cowled Seers, and perhaps unlock The Machine that governs everything. Though capable standalones, each of the eleven tracks plays best like a chapter in this album’s narrative. While specifics are seldom detailed about what transpires, Heath coaxes your imagination wonderfully with his cinematic songcraft.

The Dark Mother provides a gloomy dirge with a thudding rhythm, music for your trek in this inhospitable world. Across The Sea Of The Dead captures an endlessly bleak expanse, charred clouds suffocating the few flashes of distant lightening. Black Needle drones with atonal pads and distorted bells, as though revealing piercing, deformed towers against a blackened sky. Sacred Slab crushes you with drone while offering a tantalizing, tangible mystery within. 200 Days has a bit of narration offered, a storied recap as told by a messenger long since deceased. Industrial drone grinds and clatters about the metropolis, even as those cowled seers dutifully task themselves with maintaining whatever it is this ancient machine does. We may have uncovered the Metropolis secrets, but there sure isn’t much we can do about it. Well, maybe in a sequel, there’ll be hope.

Incubus - Make Yourself

Epic: 1999

I first thought Incubus was a ‘rocktronica’ sort of act, perhaps a bit on that Republica tip. Cover notwithstanding, it’s the name, derived from folklore of male spirits and demons seducing their way into sleeping women; essentially the dude-bro version of the succubus. While such tales are scientifically attributed to sleep paralysis, it still makes for nifty gothic iconography, and I only assumed the band Incubus was something along those lines as well. Maybe a little industrial like Marilyn Manson or Nine Inch Nails, but skewing closer to the ‘electronica’ side of things, what with a guest spot on the Spawn soundtrack. Didn’t once think they might have been the ‘rock’ pairing rather than the ‘electronica’ contribution, though the fact it was DJ Greyboy on the tag should have clued me in.

Still, Make Yourself sat there in shops, and though filed under ‘rock’ or ‘alternative’ or ‘metal’, I threw it on just to be sure. And yeah, it was definitely rock, though offering far more fusion than I could have anticipated. There was some Red Hot Chili Peppers funk stylee in there, but heavier than the fellow Cali band. I detected plenty of ‘90s alt-metal angst, but nothing that made me embarrassed to hear. There’s a little hip-hop turntablism thrown about, though always in service of each song’s whole rather than delivered as a trendy gimmick. Okay, except for Battlestar Scralatchtica, an exclusive scratching showcase for Incubus DJ Chris Killmore and guests Cut Chemist and DJ Nu-Mark. Now that’s some dope action no matter the context! The rest of Make Yourself was pretty good too, though nothing I’d buy for myself at the time (or ever).

Incubus had been around for much of the ‘90s, but didn’t break through until this third album of theirs. Even then Make Yourself was a slow burn, generally reaching no higher than the middle of the charts (where they charted at all). The band’s ability to flit through genres definitely gave them an edge though, singles and licensed songs spreading their sound to various forms of media for maximum market penetration. Pardon Me had considerable radio play, especially so an acoustic version found on the single. Stellar was even more successful, doing the post-grunge thing of quiet-loud passages that still had some life in it yet. Then Drive came along, going for the super laidback Cali-funk vibes of all your favorite chill-out Chili Peppers jams. This finally scored them a number one alt-rock hit (and Top 10 overall), and gave them even more success in follow-up albums.

Oh yeah, for as intensely ‘90s as Make Yourself comes across, Incubus sustained a solid career throughout the ‘00s, which boggles my mind considering how fickle the rock landscape was during that decade. Though their subsequent records never shifted as many units as Make Yourself, they always charted high upon release. Guess with so many of their peers falling by the wayside, at least this band gave fans of ‘90s rock something to cling to.

The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour

Capitol Records/Parlaphone: 1967/1987

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Beatles fan. Um… oh geez, how to justify this one? True, it’s got some of the Liverpool Four’s all-time classics in Strawberry Fields Forever, All You Need Is Love, and I Am The Walrus, but that’s never been an essential selling point for all their other albums. If you just wanted the classics, you get the greatest hits packages, or the anthology box sets, or the anniversary collections, or the-

What I mean to say is, buying a Beatles album just for the chart topping singles isn’t necessary when gathered options already exist. One buys Beatles LPs for the full experience, a playback from start to finish as the lads intended. They’d proved an album need not be big tunes with cover filler, where Rubber Soul, Revolver, and especially Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band kept improving upon the LP format. In fact, the Beatles had perfected the idea of a concept album so brilliantly with Sgt. Pepper’s that odds were they could only have gone down from there. Maybe it was best, then, to offer the inevitable slip with the soundtrack of Magical Mystery Tour, a film project that was practically doomed from the start.

A whimsical bus tour across the English countryside might have succeeded with an actual script on hand, but McCartney, inspired by super-hippie Ken Kesey’s similar bus tour across America, hoped to capture the spontaneity of such gleeful weirdness. Compounding the problems was how their wacky shenanigans were filmed in colour, but broadcast on BBC1, which primarily featured shows in black and white. Thus Magical Mystery Tour premiered as a muddy mess in British homes, on Boxing Day no less, when folks probably weren’t interested in drug-fueled Beatles zaniness. The film was such a flop that it never featured in American cinemas (too short), and was basically jettisoned from archives, none of the original negatives saved. It was the first sign that the mighty Beatlesmania machine could have some chinks in its sturdy armor.

The music though. No matter the faults of the film, surely the tunes provided would be of equal measure to their impeccable discography. Can’t deny that bombastic titular opener, a tune carrying on the Sgt. Pepper’s tradition of throwing any and all ideas into a single three-minute explosion of psychedelic rock. The Fool On The Hill goes more folk, Flying is a pure instrumental, Blue Jay Way goes suuuper-deep in the psychedelia (Flange! Reverse tape loops! Eastern bollocks!), Your Mother Should Know is a bouncy bit of ragtime, and I Am The Walrus is Lennon at his experimental nuttiest; but hey, what a catchy chorus!

All this, plus the included great singles that didn’t make it to Sgt. Pepper’s (aforementioned, plus Hello Goodbye, Penny Lane, and Baby You’re A Rich Man) makes Magical Mystery Tour a fascinating listen regardless. The songcraft remains, but boy were they pushing the limits of what a Beatles song could still be.

The Clash - London Calling

Epic: 1979/1999

The only Clash album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of The Clash. Am I ever saying that a lot lately, eh? Sure is good thing I’m filling in all these essential blanks in my music collection, lest folks think mine’s not worthy for consideration. Pft, my four-digit numbers is plenty ‘nuff for wide-eye glances, especially following the common question of “Is it all ‘techno’?” Why no, it actually isn’t! Like, there’s some orchestral soundtracks floating about, plus a jazz box-set somewhere in there too. And ooh, look at that shelf dedicated to rock music. Ain’t much ‘techno’ about that stuff, amirite? But yes, I know there are tons of essential classics in the rock pantheon that I’m supposed to have, despite the genre far from my highest digging priority. Why should I need too though, when I have friends consistently offloading their old CDs these days?

As for London Calling, yeah, this is one of the big ones, a game changer in the world of punk rock. The Clash were already critical darlings of the UK scene, but they had quite a bit of competition too, the market quickly flooded with copycats and would-be rebellious ‘yoof’ starting up their own rickety band railing against the powers that be. Hell, even seasoned musicians were getting in on that action, punk soon showcasing a remarkable swath of skill. From the deliberately sloppy Sex Pistols to the crafty song writing of The Police, there was seemingly almost no limit to what you could with the genre. No wonder ‘post-punk’ quickly morphed from this influx of creativity.

The Clash fit comfortably smack in the middle of it all, capably kicking out punk’s lineage of throwback rockabilly and hard rock while pushing the boundaries of genre fusion with ska, reggae, and R&B. They had no problem performing stupid simple tunes like Brand New Cadillac, but were fearless in getting politically charged and topical, showing a sense of maturity in their music mostly devoid in the ramshackle reactionary tropes of most punk. And boy, talk of hubris, showing no fear in delivering the world’s first double-LP punk album. Because ain’t no way they’re leaving those Jamaican nods Rudie Can’t Fail and the Guns Of Brixton out.

Considering punk was a reaction against the double-LP concept prog rock adored, that The Clash went this route for their third album is deliciously cheeky. The fact there’s not a duff cut for the duration of London Calling is amazing, nary a track coming off as pointless or over-indulgent filler. Also consider but two singles were released from these nineteen songs, the titular tune and closer Train In Vain (the second most famous Clash song), the sort of situation that dooms most albums from replay value. Yet I dare you to skip anything from London Calling, just to get to that final track. Doubt you do it, not with so many choice tunes in between. Top ten all time rock albums? Yeah, I buy that.

Alphaxone - Living In The Grayland

Cryo Chamber: 2014

Wow, it’s been a shade over a month since I last dealt with Alphaxone. Remember way back then, when I first started this epic alphabetical backlog? Y’all probably didn’t think we’d be only at the ‘L’s now, did ya’? Heck, even if you knew there were more Alphaxone CDs to come (I’m fairly certain I alluded to it), I doubt folks figured I’d have gone through four additional Cryo Chamber releases along the way. Hey, when I label-splurge, it’s with gusto. Still, d’is backlog tho’. I thought I’d have made it a little further along, yet here we are, only halfway through. It’ll be nearly another month before I can resume my regular course.

ANYHOW, this here Living In The Grayland is the first album Mr. Saleh released with Cryo Chamber, erroneously tagged as ‘New Age’ in Windows Media Player. Maybe the algorithm somehow thought this was a Monolith Cycle album instead? I don’t know if I should be more amazed that the app even assigned a genre to this album, or the fact it somehow confused a dark ambient CD for something more relaxing and meditative. I know release information is often user submitted, but how anyone could mistake Living In The Grayland for something one might hear at a yoga session or message parlor boggles my mind. Maybe if the masseuse is a succubus. No, wait; wrong sort of dark ambient. This is Alphaxone we’re dealing with here, not Council Of Nine.

In case you don’t remember, Mr. Seleh’s brand of drone tends to go for abstraction rather than portraying bleak pictures. The evolution of his Cryo Chamber albums saw him gradually shift towards LPs with some semblance of progression and narrative as they played. We’re dealing with his first for the label though, thus Living In The Grayland has about as intangible a plot as a David Lynch movie at his Lynchiest. Whereas Altered Dimensions and Absence Of Motion felt like you had to take a journey to reach their outworld realms, we’ve already arrived in the Grayland with this album. What will you see, what will you feel? What warping of your being shall unfold as you wander aimlessly through vistas devoid of hue?

A fair bit of drone, naturally, with plenty of layered texture and timbre in these ten tracks. Some pieces definitely make you small and insignificant, like the enveloping Overwhelm or spacious Darkscore. Others may give you a sense of dread as you traverse these unfamiliar regions, like foreboding Cold Spring or creepy Into The Silence. Yet the mood and tone is never concrete in how you should feel, whether you want to explore further or flee elsewhere. Where would you go, though? You’ve no choice but to remain here, for all eternity and longer. Why else would final track Grayland offer the only form of ‘music’, a minimalist dirge penetrating murky drone as it fades to nothingness. Your last clutches of earthly sanity ever slowly ebbing away from your grasp.

Big L - Lifestylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous

Columbia: 1995

The story of Big L is one of so much promise, and so senselessly squandered by random acts of street violence. He may have been lost in a plethora of Eastcoast rappers carving out their fame in the ‘90s, but dropping what’s often cited as one of the underground hip-hop classics at a mere 20 years of age is nothing short of incredible. Think of all the heavy hitters of the era he was up against: Biggie, Wu-Tang, Nas, Mobb Deep, not to mention the emergent Jay-Z, DMX, Big Pun, and, um, Ma$e (plus probably a dozen more I’m neglecting an obligatory namedrop). It’s understandable that someone as lyrically raw as Lamont Coleman would fall through the cracks, another casualty of a major label bungling young careers. Whether he would have found a commercial breakthrough in the new millennium, or remain one of the underground’s champions remains one of the tantalizing “what ifs?” of hip-hop lore. Sadly it was not to be, Big L murdered in a drive-by before the age of 25.

I’d heard of the Brooklyn rapper when starting my dig through hip-hop, though mostly in passing reference. A shortened discography didn’t help matters, Lifestylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous his only record released while still alive, while the posthumous The Big Picture (1974-1999) gathered material he’d been making for a second album. The latter offered us Ebonics, an incredibly clever track showcasing amazing lyricism that clued me in that I should be giving Big L some proper attention. Another factor was the live shout-out Gang Starr gave him as the very first track on their double-CD retrospective collection Full Clip: A Decade Of Gang Starr. The fact these legends would do such a thing on a release centered on their career suggested Big L was definitely an MC worthy of some stature. Finally, after a friend from out East came for a visit and kept insisting we play some Big L on a road trip, well, that just sealed the deal.

And playing through Lifestylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous, yeah,I hear how this young MC put even Nas on notice. His topics are well-tread street rap, but nonetheless gripping as he spits his rhymes. Weaving tales of the ‘hood life, survival of the illest, gotta’ do what you gotta’ do to get through it all, all the while questioning why lesser MCs in the game are getting mad paid while talent such as his languishes in obscurity. Big L’s lyricism is spotless, vivid with his imagery, dynamic with his multi-syllabic rhymes (known as ‘compounding’ apparently; always learning something new!), riding beats with flow that’s fierce yet smooth. The music production is almost entirely that Eastcoast funk-n-jazz loop based stylee, mostly handled by his Diggin’ In The Crates Crew members Buckwild and Lord Finesse (you’ve heard their beats before, trust). It all reminds me of Del’s No Need For Alarm, hip-hop strictly for the underground heads, though with heavier Eastcoast grit and menace. Mint material, all this.

Lorenzo Montanà - Leema Hactus

Psychonavigation Records: 2014

Part two of Lorenzo Montanà’s trilogy on Psychonavigation Records, all released within a three years span of each other. As if that wasn’t enough, he put out another album on Carpe Sonum Records the same year this came out, to say nothing of two additional 2015 LPs alongside the final chapter of Trilogy, Vari Chromo. Does this guy just keep stockpiling music all the live long day? And have I already rhetorically asked this question in a previous review? Feels like I have, but I’m too lazy to hop in my time machine and ask January 2016 Sykonee if he’s written a similar query in Black Ivy or Serpe. In any case, we’re definitely getting a right-proper crash course in Mr. Montanà’s music these past few months.

If you’ve been following these Lorenzo reviews since the beginning, you might have noticed a pattern emerge in the quality of albums. Black Ivy was interesting, but unfocused, while Serpe was a splendid improvement. Eilatix, however, felt like a step back, so that must mean Leema Hactus springs back with the goods, right? Yeah, it does, but come on; you can’t seriously buy this line of logic? It’s too small a sample size to form any accurate model, and I’d be rightfully roasted by crusading statisticians on social media for peddling such pseudo analytics in the form of a music review. Whoops, getting sidetracked as always!

Leema Hactus is another great album from Mr. Montanà, taking the dynamic songcraft shown in Serpe and expanding upon it even further. There’s ample ambient techno, dubby pad work, clicky-glitch rhythms ranging from brisk tempos to subdued chillers, and gentle-sweet melodies throughout, some of which are among the best I’ve heard from Lorenzo. Greenlift will utterly melt your heart, I tell you what; like hearing a melancholy fairy lullaby as fireflies dance in twilight.

Most of Leema Hactus has an undercurrent of gardens, what with tracks titles like Conflict Garden, Emerald, Hynogreen, Greenlift, and Dew Flow. The cover art doesn’t hurt in selling that notion either, though I do wonder what the album’s title means. I searched about the Googles for it, and very little came up. ‘Leema’ is apparently a lady’s name, kind of like how Peru’s capital, Lima, is a name. ‘Hactus’ may be a name as well, but when Mr. Montanà’s album eats up the first twenty search returns, I’ve very little to go on. One day, maybe I’ll try that ‘journalist’ thing of asking the producers questions for my answers. Conjecture though, it’s much funner.

Anything else? There’s a dubstep track in here, the track Dew Flow. Well, one of those half-step breaks that the genre abused, to the point you can’t help but expect a horrible wub-wub accompanying it. Lorenzo don’t do that though, instead serving up gracious, delicate melodies as he’s wont to do in this album. Chillstep, you say? No it’s, um, ambient techno, with a fresh rhythm to your standard trip-hop steps. Yeah, that’ll do.

U2 - The Joshua Tree

Island Records: 1987

The only U2 album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a U2 fan. What, you thought it’d be Songs Of Innocence? I suppose that’d be technically true, if only for a brief time before seventy-seven percent of iTunes users demanded it scrubbed from their libraries. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past Bono or Tim Cook assuming it was a U2 album all their customers were ‘supposed to have’, because that’s what good U2 and Apple users accept. Well, just because everyone adored The Joshua Tree and the early ‘00s albums that tried replicating it doesn’t mean folks will lap up any ol’ forced giveaway. We need that illusion of choice, yo’.

Like how everyone under the Western sun ‘chose’ to anoint U2 as The Greatest Rock Band On Earth after this album. Right, it’s not like they had that much competition in the year 1987, folks getting weary of synth pop and sterile corporate rock. Bono, The Edge, A. Clay’, and Mr. Mullen were already darlings of the college rock scene, and could probably have rode a tidy career on their early rough sounds, the Brian Eno experimentation of The Unforgettable Fire be damned. But wait, that Bono fella’, he’s seen some shit these past few years, amazing wonder and splendor in the untamed lands of America, and such horrible, horrible ghettos in the lands of Africa and Central America. He felt inspired to mesh these extremes, offering music that could replicate the expansive mountains and deserts of Earth while bringing U2’s political leanings to larger issues than the plight of the Irish. This could have all turned into an embarrassing bout of pretentious music making the likes the ‘80s had never seen. The fact we’re still talking fondly of The Joshua Tree - that for all of U2’s insufferable antics in the ensuing decades, we still hold their fifth album in such high esteem – goes to show just how gracefully they knocked this out the park. Hey, Americana reference, how apt!

The album opens with Where The Streets Have No Name, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, and With Or Without You, a trio of songs everyone points towards as the definitive sound of the band. It’s among the strongest starts to any record, made more so by the lush production Daniel Lanois and Brian Eno affords. Bono wanted their music to sound as open and far reaching as the American deserts and plains, and by Jove and Joshua tree, the Lanois-Eno tandem know how to deliver. Couple that with impassioned, poetic lyrics delivered by Bono, and it never comes off preachy or sanctimonious. Issues were all the rage in the ‘80s, and these songs probably highlighted them better than anyone.

Oh yeah, there’s a whole bunch of album after this too! Lots of loving nods to American blues, with plenty of jangly guitar licks and thick bass picks. Would have been a great album in its own right, but man, those first three songs, eh?

Madonna - The Immaculate Collection

Sire Records: 1990

The only Madonna album you need, if you want a bluffer’s collection of Ms. Ciccone’s early discography. Not that her records didn’t sell well enough on their own, but for as much of a phenomenon she became throughout the ‘80s, her LP efforts were often spotty. Killer singles, no doubt, but a fair number of filler tracks too, mostly ballads, covers, and the like. Most folks just wanted to hear the peppy pop of Holiday, Material Girl, or Papa Don’t Preach, then move on with their lives before those awesome earworms started tickling the memory membranes again. Praise be, then, to the greatest hits packages, and what better way to put a capper on Madge’s dominance of ‘80s airwaves than one such collection. Naturally, such an effort could only be considered immaculate by her standards, but as Madonna’s entire m.o. is “if you got it, flaunt it”, what harm is there indulging her? Right, these past ten years of her career, good point.

The Immaculate Collection has everything you need for your Madonna: Phase One needs. The early “Jellybean” Benitez produced hits like Holiday and Crazy For You. The Nile Rodgers produced superhits such as Like A Virgin and Material Girl. The Patrick Leonard produced über-‘80s power pop pieces Love To Tell, La Isla Bonita, and Like A Prayer. The Stephen Bray produced club anthems like Into The Groove, Papa Don’t Preach, and Express Yourself. The Lenny Kravitz produced sultry… S&M… house coo of Justify My Love? Wait, what? Oh, and through much of this period is Shep Pettibone, often serving as an additional producer to give all these songs that extra punch of dancefloor sensibility. Guy was a God throughout the ‘80s.

Even if you were a Madonna fanatic and had bought all the albums, The Immaculate Collection was still a handy pick-up. Bringing all her best songs into one spot helped (don’t laugh, this was an extremely difficult thing for folks to do back in the day!), but it also gathered her wayward hits too, mostly found on soundtracks. Because good Lord, no one should have to buy I’m Breathless just for Vogue - so much better having it here, plus the additional new tracks Justify My Love and Rescue Me, leading us into her Erotica era.

That’s probably the most interesting takeaway from The Immaculate Collection, hearing her development as an artist. This is now all common knowledge of course, but going from the chipper post-disco chirps of her early material to the full-throated husky moans at the end is quite the evolution. It’s a remarkable showcase in proving just how adaptable a presence she’d already become, and fools they be had they thought she couldn’t pull it off throughout the ‘90s as well. Some of the ‘00s too, I guess.

In this day of streaming, The Immaculate Collection probably isn’t all that essential anymore, but at least it provides a handy ‘ultimate ‘80s Madonna’ playlist without you having to fuss for it yourself.