'Buddha Of Suburbia' by David Bowie

After the release of 'Black Tie White Noise', his first album of the 90s, Bowie was offered the chance to write incidental music for the TV adaptation of the novel 'Buddha of Suburbia'. As well as doing so, he took elements from these compositions and reworked them to create the album of the same name. It wasn't released as a soundtrack, but it was promoted as one, and released at virtually the same time as his singles collection, and as a result, it failed to reach the charts, and was quickly deleted. A long overdue reissue appeared a few years ago, again with little fanfare, so Buddha remains almost certainly the least-heard album of Bowie's career, which is a shame, because it's really good.

'Black Tie White Noise' was a good album, but it revisiting his 'Let's Dance' stylings, it was a safe one. 'Buddha of Suburbia' displays a more interesting approach to Bowie's personal history, revisiting styles from 'Hunky Dory' right through to 'Low'. It's all understated, and a lot of it is instrumental, but there's more creativity in it than Bowie had shown for a long time.

The title track is a rather lovely acoustic ballad that could have come from 1972. It even uses the typical split octave vocals that 'Hunky Dory' featured so often. You'd be forgiven for assuming that the title track would set the tone for the whole album, but it doesn't. 'Sex And The Church', the second track, is a jittering six and a half minutes of processed vocals, minimal synths and clattering percussion. 'South Horizon' is a rambling piece of piano jazz shot through with trumpets - like the previous album, but without the structure. 'The Mysteries' is the longest track on the album, and as an oriental-inspired drifting soundscape, it could have come from 'Heroes'. 'Bleed Like Craze, Dad' is utterly different again - the sort of murky dance that 'Outside' would later consist of. 'Strangers When We Meet' sits in the middle of the album, and is the records strongest single track. It would go on to be re-recorded in a similar but tightened-up style for his next album, which is good, as it deserved to be heard by a wider audience. The rest of the album continues to wander from style to style until the end. 'Ian Fish, UK Heir' is the last new track on the album - so minimal, it's almost not there at all. It would have made a great, and brave album closer, but it's followed by a repeat of the title track with a pointless overdubbed guitar part from Lenny Kravitz.

All in all, it's an impressive piece of work, particularly given the context of its recording, and the fact that Bowie made it with only one real collaborator in only a couple of weeks. As well as being successful in its own right, it also paved the way for the next step in Bowie's creative rebirth. Well worth seeking out.

‘Brushfire Fairytales’ by Jack Johnson

‘Brushfire Fairytales’ was the first full length album by Jack Johnson. It was a modest success on its release, but like most people, I only heard it years later following the release of ‘In Between Dreams’ four years later. It’s an album free of shocks. Johnson is a good singer and songwriter, but he’s not an artist with an enormous amount of progression in his career. ‘Brushfire Fairytales’, therefore, is very similar to ‘In Between Dreams’, but that’s not a bad thing in and of itself.

In fact, there is some progression. This album, while being a fine debut, isn’t as good as later albums would become, simply because Johnson would improve as a songwriter. When this album hits its peaks, it’s excellent. ‘Middleman’, ‘Mudwater’ and the fantastic ‘Flake’ are all songs that bear repeated listening. Generally, it’s when Johnson’s band come into play that the songs come to life. There’s little complexity in his rhythm sections, but bass and drums give his songs a real boost. It’s the tracks he does alone with his guitar that drag a little. On later albums, these tracks would be delicate and charming – here, they’re just a bit bland.

Still, Johnson himself seems quite content for people to use his music as a background accompaniment to life, and this album is certainly good enough for that.

‘Brink’ by Eden Burning

After a number of years slogging across the country playing small gigs and releasing well received but low selling albums, ‘Brink’ was Eden Burning’s last throw of the dice. I wasn’t following them at the time, and there’s very little stuff online to fill in the gaps, but it’s hard not to listen to it and see it as one final attempt to crack a mainstream market. ‘Brink’ is less of an acoustic-folk album than their previous albums, and has more of an indie-rock sound instead. Electric guitar features more heavily, mandolins less so.

That said, there’s enough of the band’s style running through it for it to not feel like an anomaly. ‘Deep Blue Sea’ opens the album in a squall of harmonica and vocal harmony. It may be a relatively simple track, musically and lyrically, but it’s a punchy and catchy start. Through ‘Movers and Shakers’, ‘Stories’ and ‘Almost Spent’, the band revert slightly to type – more delicate, acoustic songs, though this is no bad thing. Paul Northup is, as ever, a fine singer, and a superb lyricist. Throughout this album, as with other Eden Burning albums, he weaves his faith deftly through his lyrics without sounding preachy or obvious.

There are some weaker moments later on. ‘Another Country’, ‘With A Kiss’ and ‘Western Eyes’ are all stabs at a rock sound that never quite convinces. The final track, however, is a glorious way to finish a recording career. ‘Let Me Lose’ is simply structured, but beautifully recorded and performed – a true song of worship which could be enjoyed by more or less anyone.

'Bring It On' by Gomez

In 1998, the era of Britpop was coming to a close. Bands that had achieved the most success in the couple of years previously were either evolving into new directions or stagnating into a long slow death. Gomez, who released 'Bring It On' during this year, were something different.

That's not to say they were something new. On the whole, 'Bring It On' felt (and still feels) like a relic from another age when blues was still a genre of music that people cared about. Gomez looked like the bunch of scruffy students that they were, but their vocalist Ben Ottewell sounded like he'd spent decades gargling gravel in the deep south. Actually, Gomez were never quite that simple, as their lead vocals were split three ways - Ottewell's voice was wheeled out like a secret weapon for some tracks, and some parts of tracks. Sadly, though this made Gomez seem exciting at the time of their debut, the novelty wore off after a couple of albums, though the band are still plugging away to people who still care. There are still some out there.

'Bring It On' still sounds pretty good. 'Get Miles' is a bold opener, building slowly but steadily over its five minute duration. It's good, but there's better stuff to come. 'Whippin' Piccadilly', 'Get Myself Arrested' and '78 Stone Shuffle' are all great singles, but they're easily matched by 'Here Comes The Breeze' and 'Love Is Better Than A Warm Trombone' which both sit squarely in the middle of the album. It does tail off a bit at the end - 'Bubble Gum Years' is pretty forgettable, and 'Rie's Wagon' could have been comfortably edited down from its nine minutes to about three without losing anything important. Still, these are forgiveable indulgences on a debut which were dealt with, to a large degree, on album number two. Eventually, I'll reach the letter L...

‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ by Simon and Garfunkel

‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ was Simon and Garfunkel’s swansong, the final studio album of their time as a duo, and generally regarded as their crowning achievement. This is a pretty reasonable thing to think – there is some truly wonderful stuff on this album - the uptempo brass-assisted ‘Keep The Customer Satisfied’, the rich narrative of ‘The Boxer’ and the gently glorious ‘The Only Living Boy In New York’. What lets the album down, I’ve always thought, is its structure.

The album kicks off with the title track. In a sense, it’s a logic choice – it certainly sets the tone. The trouble is, its so big, and climactic, and brilliant, that it’s very hard to follow. ‘El Condor Pasa’ certainly doesn’t cut it, and ‘Cecila’, the albums third track, doesn’t manage it either, despite all its qualities. If the title track had been the final song on the album, I can’t help feeling it would have worked a lot better (although ‘Song For The Asking’ could have still been a good final ending).

None-the-less, these quibbles aside, the overall quality of the record is in no doubt. The filler on this record would be standout tracks on lesser albums, and 30 years on, it’s still a benchmark of its type.

‘Brand New Day’ by Beehive

‘Brand New Day’ is one of the albums in my collection that came slightly out of nowhere. I saw Beehive live at Spring Harvest many years back, but I’m sure I had this album before that. I’ve no idea why – I may have seen them at Soul Survivor beforehand.

At the time, I remember thinking Beehive were one of those Christian bands that had real potential for crossing into the mainstream. Jamiroquai and The Brand New Heavies were both having success with a similar sound, and I saw no reason why Beehive couldn’t compete. Others must have thought so too – turns out they won a Mobo award for ‘Brand New Day’. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. There was no follow-up album, though I’ve no idea why this was.

Twelve years on, the album stands up pretty well. It’s slightly dated, very much a product of its time, but a lot of the tracks still sound pretty strong. Opener, ‘Fool’s Wisdom’, ‘No-One Knows’ and ‘Hype’ still sound appropriately funky. Sadly, all three of these tracks are at the beginning of the album, which skews the record somewhat. There’s god stuff later – ‘Presence of Your Love’ is a nice tune, and ‘Turn It Around’ is a gem which has stood the test of time nicely, but there’s some filler there as well. ‘Get Busy’ sounds a bit forced, and ‘Answer To Your Prayer’, while an admirable attempt to finish on a different note, just doesn’t match up to the rest of the album.

Still, it remains a promising debut, and I’m sure they’d have gone on to make a good second album if they’d stuck with it. A shame we’ll never know.

‘Bowie At The Beeb’ by David Bowie

Thirty-seven tracks of Bowie goodness, taken from Bowie’s session recordings between 1968 and 1972. Between these years, Bowie underwent an number of musical transformations, and this collection charts this journey brilliantly. The first section of the first disc contains songs from the outskirts of his back catalogue, the pre-‘Space Oddity’ days. Though generally neglected, these are great tracks, or at least great versions – light hearted, but well constructed, arranged and performed. The next set, the ‘Space Oddity’ era stuff is slightly earnest singer-songwriter stuff, but again, done well. The second half of the first disc is ‘The Man Who Sold The World’ era recordings, and they drag a little, truth be told. They’re fine, but they tend to go on for longer than they need to.

The second disc is the more instantly recognisable, consisting almost exclusively of tracks from ‘Hunky Dory’ and ‘Ziggy Stardust’. In a sense, that makes it the more interesting of the discs, as these are the songs that first defined the artist. At the same time, these songs are so familiar to anyone interested enough to listen to this correction, that they capture the attention less than disc one. Either way, there are some great performances of some fantastic songs here, whether they’re well known or not.

Altogether, they make for an extremely good collection of recordings. Happily, the compilers have also elected to keep some of the surrounding chat from the radio broadcasts. This is very much of its time, but it’s great to hear, even if John Peel sounds like he’s fighting off some kind of sleeping tablet overdose. Bowie himself comes across as chatty and witty, though slightly nervous. The only real regret you have listening to this, is that Bowie didn’t return to the BBC that much through the rest of the decade – some sessions from the late 70s would have been a joy to hear, but in reality, his next BBC sessions were with Tin Machine, and it’s unlikely that anyone would really want them released now.

‘Bookends’ by Simon & Garfunkel

By the time ‘Bookends’ was released, Simon and Garfunkel were well established and successful. Presumably, this success is what led them to experiment with their formula a little more than they had previously done. Some of ‘Bookends’ follows the classic Simon and Garfunkel formula, other parts are more surprising.

‘America’, ‘A Hazy Shade of Winter’ and ‘Mrs Robinson’ are traditional stuff – largely acoustic, sung in gorgeous harmony, and immediately catchy. Alongside these tracks, however, you get ‘Voices of Old People’, which is what the title suggests, ‘Old Friends’, which is sung over a simple swooping line of strings, and the remarkable ‘Save The Life Of My Child’ which is strangely a discordant track full of synthesizer, as though Simon and Garfunkel are deliberately subverting the very things that make them appealing.

Ultimately, it has to be said, the more experimental tracks aren’t as successful as the usual stuff – a shame, because it’s always interesting to hear musicians try new things. Having said that, it’s all pretty good, and the best tracks are very god indeed. It would be overshadowed by their next, and last album, but it’s well worth a listen.

‘Bodysong’ by Jonny Greenwood

Pity the collector. To most people, the news that Jonny Greenwood, lead guitarist for Radiohead, had recorded the soundtrack to an obscure documentary film would register no interest whatsoever. To a certain type of person, however, the very existence of this record was reason enough to own it. It’s not even as if I didn’t know what to expect – I knew it would sound like this, and I was proved right.

Even by the standards of what Radiohead were releasing at the time, this is a difficult album to listen to. Creative, yes, fascinating, yes, but not especially enjoyable. That said, it’s to Greenwood’s credit that he is able to keep things interesting. There is a good bit of variety on this album, from piano led tracks to violin, to brass, to percussion. Sadly, each track sounds like a group of musicians warming up for a proper song. I’m sure it was constructed very carefully, but if you were to play it backwards by mistake, I’m not sure you’d notice the difference.

‘Blur’ by Blur

Following the release, and lukewarm critical reception of ‘The Great Escape’, Blur went to great efforts to evolve, releasing this album in 1997. Listening to the album as a whole, it’s an obvious new direction for the band, but it would be a mistake to say they’d neglected their pop roots. ‘Beetlebum’ and ‘Song 2’ may have a slightly rougher arrangement than previous albums, but given a polish, they’d have both sat comfortably on earlier albums. Only with ‘Country Sad Ballad Man’ is there a real indication that Blur were entering new territory. It’s a down beat arrangement of a track, layered in slide guitar, and featuring a vocal performance from Damon Albarn that jumps through octaves like hoops. It sounds unlike anything Blur had done up to that point. The album continues in a similar vein – ‘You’re So Great’ is rougher than any tracks that had come before it, though lovely never-the-less, ‘On Your Own’ is the most awkward sounding track they’d ever released as a single, ‘Theme From Retro’ dispenses with words altogether, and pretty much loses its tune along the way, ‘Chinese Bombs’ is abrasively loud and short, and ‘Essex Dogs’ is more of a rambling stream of consciousness than a song.

Mixed into all this, however, are some great pop moments. ‘M.O.R.’ may have been derivative enough to require a writing credit for Bowie and Eno, but it’s still a great track, ‘I’m Just A Killer For Your Love’ and ‘Strange News From Another Star’ are both great, and ‘Look Inside America’, though weary, is suitably anthemic.

All in all, ‘Blur’ is a fantastic album, and testament to the fact that the band made all the right decisions before making it. It also cements their reputation for being great musicians – it’s more evidence in particular that Coxon is one of the greatest guitarists of his generation. Twelve years on, this album sounds as good as it ever did.

‘Blue Lines’ by Massive Attack

Like lots of people, I like to think that my music collection is pretty eclectic. Like most people who think this, it’s not really. There’s a reasonable variety, which is more-or-less inevitable when you acquire music in large amounts, but the vast majority of it is made by white men with guitars, and there’s no real getting around that fact. Nestled somewhere in the middle of the shelves is my selection of Massive Attack albums, a token gesture towards the world of rap. It’s an easy way in, of course – trip-hop, the genre pretty much defined by Massive Attack, is music for people who are hip-hop-phobic. There are still real instruments being played, there are still melodies mixed in along the rapping, and some of the songs can even be hummed afterwards.

‘Blue Lines’ was the first Massive Attack album, and it remains, in many ways, their best. The essence of the album is captured perfectly by ‘Safe From Harm’, the opening track – a slow drum beat, a driving bassline, an atmospheric vocal melody, with some brooding rap parts underneath. It skirts along the edge of menacing to just the right degree, as does much of what follows.

My favourite moment of the album is the point at which ‘Blue Lines’ runs into ‘Be Thankful For What You’ve Got’ – the first is a rather dense and heavy part of the album, the second is one of the most upbeat and positive parts, and the move from one into the other is timed perfectly. Soon after, of course, comes ‘Unfinished Sympathy’, the track that will always be identified, more than any other, with the band, despite being fairly a-typical of their work. It’s topped all sorts of critical lists since its release, and rightly so – it still comes across as perfectly formed, even now, the centrepiece of a wonderful album.

‘Blood’ by Franz Ferdinand

When Franz Ferdinand released their third album, ‘Tonight’, at the beginning of the year, the special edition had an additional eight tracks on the end. These tracks were remixes of album tracks that carried the collective title ‘Blood’. Later in the year, ‘Blood’ was released on its own with an additional ninth track. My version is the first, and it was an accidental purchase in many ways. I bought ‘Tonight’ from ebay from an incredibly small sum, and happily, the special edition is what arrived through the post. To be honest, I’d paid it little attention before now. I was pretty disappointed in ‘Tonight’, so the idea of spending time with a collection of dub versions was relatively unappealing.

Happily, listening properly to this while coming to work on a cold dark morning was a more interesting experience than I thought it would be. It’s a bit samey, as you might expect, but there are some interesting production flourishes, and a good set of basslines. I doubt it would stand up to excessive repeated listening, but as the right kind of background music, it serves its purpose well.

‘Black Tie White Noise’ by David Bowie

Bowie’s first album of the 90s, and his first solo release since Tin Machine, was unavailable for a long time, finally getting a reissue a few years ago. At the time, it had mixed fortunes. It reached number one, but fell of the radar pretty fast. It was received pretty well by those who heard it, and it deserved to be. For the first time in almost a decade, this is an album that shows Bowie both making an effort, and finding that this effort is paying off. It’s not one of his best, but it lays a firm foundation for his nineties renaissance, and it’s a fine album in its own right.

The album is book-ended by ‘The Wedding’, and ‘The Wedding Song’ – Bowie’s recent marriage runs through this album explicitly, as well as presumably giving him the self-assurance to produce something decent again. ‘You’ve Been Around’ is the first real track of the album. It sounds like it could have been a Tin Machine track, but it sounds vastly better than it would have done if this had been so.

The singles from the album all show Bowie returning to where he left off with ‘Let’s Dance’, or even ‘Young Americans’. ‘Jump They Say’ is particularly good, ‘Miracle Goodnight’ is less so. The title track is a brave attempt to deal with issues of race. The fact that it isn’t horrendously embarrassing a decade and a half later is a sign of success in itself. The rest of the album continues the slightly dancey production techniques and instrumentation, and it does so to good effect. ‘I Know It’s Gonna Happen Someday’ is a little overwrought, but the rest of the record is certainly good enough to compensate for this.

‘Beyond The Neighbourhood’ by Athlete

Athlete’s third album, released in 2007, is a curious affair. When Athlete first album was released, it was a quirky indie type record, whereas their second album ironed out all these quirks, aiming for a more conventional Coldplay-esque sound. ‘Beyond The Neighbourhood’ fall somewhere between these two positions.

It starts with a fairly low key instrumental warm-up which segues into ‘Hurricane’, the lead single. As you’d expect from a first single, it’s a reasonably upbeat anthemic number, and certainly one of the stronger tracks from the album. The next couple of tracks continue in a reasonably similar vein, livened up by some great drumming. In the middle of the album comes ‘The Outsiders’, the core of the record. Again, it’s a fairly unassuming track, but nicely produced, with some good harmonies.

The trouble with this album, is that second half doesn’t really offer anything new. The first six tracks make a good lesson, the next five are all fine as they are, but there’s nothing that really stands out. As such, the album drifts to a vaguely unsatisfying end, which is shame after its promising beginning.

‘Bertolt Brecht’s Baal’ by David Bowie

As Bowie journeyed through the 80s, releasing albums that were getting increasingly rubbish, he also undertook a variety of side projects that were, on the whole, far more interesting than his proper work. It was also the period in which he stretched his wings as an actor, with mixed success. One of the roles he played during this period was the part of Baal in a TV adaptation of Bertolt Brecht’s play. As part of this, he recorded five songs for the soundtrack which were released as an EP at the time, and re-released a couple of years ago as a download.

Bowie’s voice lends itself well to ‘Baal’s Hymn’, the track which outlines his character’s journey. The middle three songs – ‘Remembering Marie A’, ‘Ballad of the Adventurers’ and ‘The Drowned Girl’ are all suitably atmospheric. ‘The Dirty Song’, which closes the album, is short, throwaway, and slightly unpleasant, but it’s all in character, so it’s hard to criticise.

At five tracks long, and none of them written by him, it could never be more than an interesting curio in his career, but judged on those terms, the EP is fairly successful.

'Beautiful News' by Matt Redman

'Beautiful News' is the 8th album by Matt Redman, coming an incredible 13 years after his debut. A lot had changed in this time. Redman had moved on from Soul Survivor, the festival that was for many years his natural home, and surrendered his status as the UKs great young worship songwriter to Tim Hughes. By the time of 'Beautiful News', he was more like a Kendrick to his generation, and I imagine he'll remain so - always there, continuously producing new stuff, but never quite having the impact he once did.

I'm not sure where we got this from. I think it was a present bought for Tessa, and I vaguely remember having trouble getting it to play on my mp3 player properly. By the time I'd got the problem resolved, the moment had passed, so I listened today with a fresh perspective.

As an album, 'Beautiful News' is mature, well produced, and never less than decent. That said, there's little on it get excited about. It falls into the all-too-unsatisfying category of overt-worship albums full of songs that wouldn't really work congregationally. As a result, it's hard to know what to do with it. Only 'You Never Let Go' stands out as a song that would work in churches, though personal experience tells me it's a struggle to actually sing - too high in the chorus, and too low in the voice if you transpose it.

So, all-in-all, it's pretty good, but I can't see myself listening to it again in a hurry.

'Beautiful Freak' by Eels

In my head, the Eels career trajectory went from mainstream indie band to deliberate industry outsider. My memories of 'Beautiful Freak' were of a good, but relatively straightforward commerical success. Commercial success it was, of course - it went top 5, and spawned two top 10 singles - it even won a brit award. All of these would be unthinkable achievements from an Eels album now.

What's interesting listening back to the album now is how Eels-like it is. It may have achieved mainstream success, but it's a pretty uncompromising album both lyrically and musically. Mark Everett writes lyrics as miserable as anyone else in music, and this album has as many examples as any other album, particularly during 'Mental' and 'Your Lucky Day In Hell'. The music, whilst more electric-guitar-heavy than many of his other records, is still littered with glockenspiel, top-end piano and synth pads.

'Beautiful Freak' isn't an album to listen to if you need cheering up, but it's a great record. What it lacks in experimentation, it makes up for in focus, and general quality. It'll never be remembered as the quintessential Eels album - that would surely be 'Daisies of the Galaxy' of 'Blinking Lights' - but it's very, very good.