With the "classic" Fleetwood Mac and departed guitarists Peter Green and Jeremy Spencer a fading memory, namesakes and rhythm section Mick Fleetwood (drums) and John McVie (bass), along with second generation survivor Christine McVie (vocals, keyboards), let go of their British blues heritage and linked with a failed Californian pop-rock duo, Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. That move, born of desperation, yields this 1975 classic: unveiling a taut, well-oiled pop rock band boasting three distinctive singers and songwriters in Buckingham, Nicks and Christine McVie; Buckingham's extraordinary arrangements and versatile acoustic and electric guitars; and the undeniable horsepower of the founding fathers' rock-solid rhythm work. Buckingham's rave-ups, Nicks's sultry rock ballads, and Christine McVie's soulful, sunny pop form the template for Rumours, which would follow two years later. -Sam Sutherland.

The sound of Southern rock gets a facelift for the 1990s on Yourself or Someone Like You, the record that made Florida's Matchbox 20 a success story. Rob Thomas's charismatic and passionate vocal delivery carries this collection of captivating, personal-story songs, based on honest, heart-felt lyrics rich with cathartic emotion. Anyone who's felt so scarred by love that they can't imagine taking the chance of getting hurt again will relate to a song like "Push" (an exhilarating feminist anthem disguised as just another relationship-on-the-rocks song). A much-needed break from the alternative pack. -Gail Worley.

Such was the omnipresence of Britain's biggest selling album in 1992 and 1993, that Stars sounds like a Greatest Hits in its own right. It's always been fashionable for critics to sneer at Simply Red's phenomenal success, but there's no denying the sumptuous clarity which pervades everything here, from the doting, devotional "For Your Babies" to the deliciously understated "Wonderland". Even clumsy forays into social commentary-"Model" and the Tory-baiting "Your Mirror"-are partially redeemed by a couple of cracking tunes. Lest we forget, Stars was Simply Red's last album as a fully functioning band. Hucknall may well have since written songs to equal "For Your Babies" and "Stars", but bereft of Fritz McIntyre's sunny keyboard sound and Heitor T. P. 's crisp, angular funk playing, he's never quite sounded so Simply Red. -Peter Paphides.

The Band's third studio album is also their third-best studio album, and that isn't bad. It's not as synchronous as Music From Big Pink or as overpowering as The Band, but that's part of its appeal. The quintet's first two albums were such towering achievements that the group came to lean on its songs, turning the lion's share of them into concert staples. Stage Fright is littered with lesser-known Robbie Robertson compositions possessing more modest charms than the overplayed likes of "The Weight" and "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down". The title track is uncommonly hard-eyed and modern; Richard Manual's vocal, like most of his turns at the mike, is sparkling. (Manual also shines on the reflective "Sleeping" and the up-tempo "Just Another Whistle Stop"). "All La Glory" is a gorgeous lullaby, while "Time To Kill" sounds like the Band doing Creedence Clearwater Revival. This isn't the place to discover this great North American band, but it's definitely a stop worth taking before your exploration is completed. -Steven Stolder The Band's third studio album is also their third-best studio album, and that isn't bad. It's not as synchronous as Music from Big Pink or as overpowering as The Band, but that's part of its appeal. [+]

Having nearly exhausted their capacity for pop-song politics on War and The Unforgettable Fire, U2 turned toward themes of personal identity and complex relationships on The Joshua Tree. Not that the group was willing to come down off the barricades entirely: "Mothers of the Disappeared" and "Bullet the Blue Sky" turned a jaundiced eye toward Central America and the United States's role there. But the predominant mood here is one of self-discovery and the hunger for something more on tracks like the pulsating "Where the Streets Have No Name" and the gospel-ish "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For". The album's masterstroke, however, is "With or Without You", a nasty love song dressed up as an ode of devotion and care. It ranks with the Police's "Every Breath You Take" as the most misread smash hit of the 1980s. -Daniel Durchholz U2 have made a lot of grand music, but 1987's graceful, powerful Joshua Tree stands as their masterwork. It is by turns moving, inspiring, and exhilarating. Each member contributes his best work, and each song shines. Would that all rock records were made with the same care, the same passion and invention. The ubiquitous opening salvo of "Where the Streets Have No Name," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and the tense "With or Without You" may define this album to many, but its real strengths lie in the brilliant second half: "Red Hill Mining Town," "Trip Through Your Wires," and the surging "One Tree Hill" (the latter being one of rock's-hell, all music's-truly finest moments). [+]

There was a time when you couldn't step into a dance club without hearing at least part of this recording booming over the sound system. The often over-played hit, "Situation," was a bubbling caldron of nasally synth noodlings, a whopping bass line, and drum machine wallops. Alison Moyet's looped laugh in the middle of the song ended up as a sample, over-used a thousand times over. Yaz was an interesting blend of Moyet's smoky blues and jazz tinged vocals with Vince Clarke's digital disco. Moyet's voice alone was instrument enough, and the melodies here perfectly showcased her incredible range. Upstairs easily moved between energetic dance floor exuberance ("Don't Go" and "Good-bye Seventies"), blues-inspired wailers ("Midnight"), and icy electronic minimalism ("Winter Kills"). It was an explosion of a debut, touching upon '80s gay disco, synth pop, and diva-ism in one fell swoop. The CD closes with the overlooked "Didn't I Bring Your Love Down," an infectious barn burner with a call/response break that blows the roof off of Eric's little techno-pop room. -Steve Gdula.

A two-for-one combo of the first two Big Star albums (they only recorded three). Heard side by side, #1 Record and Radio City only add further testament to Big Star's seminal greatness. On the first album, Chris Bell and Alex Chilton share songwriting credit, though each brings a remarkably different sensibility to the band: Bell creates pure pop nuggets ("Feel") while Chilton swaggers with reckless melancholy ("Ballad Of El Goodo", "Thirteen"). After Bell's departure, Chilton took control of the helm for Radio City, and what a ride it is. While not abandoning Bell's penchant for pop, Radio City careens wildly through some of the most exhilarating music ever created, from the rave-up opener, "O My Soul", to the pure pop masterpiece "September Girls" to the whimsical ditty "I'm In Love With A Girl". It's too bad that Big Star didn't create more albums, but thank god they made the ones they did. -Tod Nelson.

Skunk Anansie's debut album ran contrary to the grain. While everyone around them was celebrating the resolutely white-boy, hedonistic, traditional 1960s-based sounds of Britpop, these four Londoners released a multi-racial, politically-charged album that owed as much to the funk visions of Sly & The Family Stone and Living Colour as it did to the metal mightiness of prime Black Sabbath. On songs such as "Intellectualise My Blackness" and "100 Ways To Be A Good Girl", vocalist Skin directly confronted people's prejudices and threw them straight back in their faces. Elsewhere, tracks like "Selling Jesus" and "I Can Dream" showcase her voice pretty much at the height of its power. indeed, this whole album captures the band in top form, with hardly a weak track present. -Everett TrueEND.

The Dead Can Dance chanteuse ditches her partner, Brendan Perry, for this solo outing. Mixing middle-eastern drones, Balkan stringed instruments, Chinese percussion, and the European classical tradition, it's a singularly beautiful and mesmerising album that occupies a genre all of its own. File next to Chant and Jan Garbarek, and be sure to alert progressive-minded classical buffs. -Jeff Bateman The Dead Can Dance chanteuse ditches her partner, Brendan Perry, for this solo outing. Mixing middle-eastern drones, Balkan stringed instruments, Chinese percussion, and the European classical tradition, it's a singularly beautiful and mesmerizing album that occupies a genre all of its own. File next to Chant and Jan Garbarek, and be sure to alert progressive-minded classical buffs. -Jeff Bateman.

On the other side of the Atlantic, pre-Lilith Fair, McLachlan had critical acclaim and a cult following but was otherwise just another hard-working female singer/songwriter-one who wasn't blasting down doors with overt sexuality or popping along in front of a male Svengali. Similar in their emotional urgency to her more recent work but delightfully less polished, these folk-rock songs are surprising gems. If not for McLachlan's poignant vocals, lyrics like "Your love is better than ice cream" (on "Ice Cream") would sound childishly absurd (especially alongside deeper material like "Hold On"), but here they're given just as much respect as the weightier issues she explores. A great album to accompany your moments of introspection. -Rebecca Wallwork.