u/stepn-out

Up until a few months ago, I would have told you I knew the Rolling Stones. I’ve lived with them for 50+ years.

I know all the radio hits. I own Hot Rocks, Some Girls, Emotional Rescue, Tattoo You and Undercover. I certainly never thought of myself as someone who needed an introduction to the Stones.

A few months ago, I started listening to their albums chronologically.

The same thing has happened with several artists I've been going through chronologically at the same time. Greatest hits collections and classic rock radio gave me a very strong sense of what these bands sounded like. A surprisingly narrow one, as it turns out.

Albums I had always thought of mainly as vehicles for two or three hits are starting to make much more sense as complete records.

This is happening because I've gotten myself into a yearlong project: 29 classic rock artists, 329 albums, every album listened to three times, chronologically.

I'm about a third of the way through now, and the results are already quite different from the list I would have made before I started. I've been documenting the whole thing as it unfolds because I'm increasingly curious where this is going to end.

But one of the biggest surprises so far has nothing to do with rankings. It’s realizing how much greatest hits albums and classic rock radio edited these bands for me.

In the summer of 1980, my best friend and I made money mowing lawns. One weekend, we got work tilling a neighbor's garden.

I had just bought The Soft Parade, so I taped the album onto a cassette and brought it along so we could listen while we worked.

He hated The Doors. He absolutely refused.

I told him I thought the record might have skipped while I was taping it and that I needed to listen all the way through to make sure I didn't have to return the album.

That worked.

I’m now listening chronologically through the complete catalogs of 29 classic rock artists, three full listens per album.

I’m 118 albums in, and The Doors are currently sitting at #2.  I still have 211 albums left, so I have no idea whether they stay there.

EPILOGUE: my friend grew up to become a corporate attorney. I grew up and became (maybe already was) a salesperson.

I’m listening through The Who’s catalog chronologically, and I finally got to Tommy.

What makes that especially special is that I had every opportunity to hear it. As a teen/young adult, I had boxes and boxes of cassettes, easily hundreds of them. I was constantly borrowing albums from friends and taping them. I could have added Tommy at any point. I never did.

I’m doing the same thing with 28 other classic rock artists, and this is exactly the kind of surprise I was hoping would happen.

In 1975, when I was 10, I went to see Tommy with a couple of friends. Clearly too young for it. By the time Tina Turner showed up as the Acid Queen, we’d had enough. The three of us ran out of the theater and called for an early ride home.

So I went into the album expecting it to be a bit of a chore. I assumed there would be a lot of unfamiliar music that hadn’t aged particularly well.

I was completely wrong.

What surprised me most was how much of it I already knew. And the songs I didn’t know were far better than I expected. By the third listen, I was wondering why I’d waited this long.

Listening to The Who chronologically, Tommy was the first album where I felt like they finally arrived as I know them. The voice, the sound.

I’ve seen In Search of the Lost Chord in record bins for most of my life, and that cover always made me curious about what the album actually sounded like.

When I was a teenager, part time job money only went so far, and there were always other records I wanted more, so I kept passing this one over.

45 years later, I finally gave it a proper listen.

The first listen was promising. I liked the songs and appreciated what they were trying to do, even if the psychedelic atmosphere and sitar were a little much for me. “Ride My See Saw” immediately stood out.

By the third listen, instead of growing on me, it started to lose me. It just wasn’t connecting. It finished at 13.67 and currently ranks #93 out of the 118 albums I’ve completed.

Still, I’m glad I finally heard it and crossed it off my bucket list.

I’m 60. Until a few months ago, my entire Bowie experience was ChangesOneBowie and Let’s Dance. I finally started listening to the studio albums chronologically, three times each, scoring them as I went.

Six albums in, I’ve realized that “Do you like it?” is really four different questions:

Is it well made?
Is it interesting?
Does it make me feel something?
Do I actually want to hear it again?

Bowie’s debut made the distinction obvious. My total score went from

19 to 14.5 to 14.

My desire to replay it fell from “can’t wait” after the first listen, then “never again” after the second.  5 to 1 to 1

Oddly by the third listen, I understood and appreciated the album more. I recognized the songs, heard the theatrical concept more clearly and respected what he was trying to do. I simply had no desire to play it again.

Hunky Dory moved differently. Its score rose before settling slightly lower, while my replay interest remained steady.

Ziggy Stardust barely moved at all across three listens. It was the first album where I could finally hear “the David Bowie I thought I knew.” I simply had no desire to play it again.

It’s been interesting hearing his progression over 6 albums.  I’m looking forward to continuing through the rest of the catalog included in my project.

That’s when my relationship with music changed.

I graduated from college, started working full-time, got married, bought a house, and had a few kids.

Before that, I had both disposable income and time. A lot of time.

By the early '90s, I had neither the time nor the resources to indulge that passion.

Ironically, the house is now sold, the marriage is over, and the kids are grown. Suddenly I have time again. Thanks to streaming, I'm rediscovering my love of listening to complete catalogs and finally exploring artists whose discographies I never finished.

It's actually become a formal year long project. I'm working through the complete studio catalogs of 29 classic rock artists, 329 albums in all, with every album receiving three complete listens. I'm curious to see whether the bands I thought were my favorites forty years ago are still my favorites today.

I'm listening through the Kinks' catalog chronologically, and I just reached ‘Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One’.

When "Lola" came on, it immediately stood out to me from everything up to that point. It wasn't just another great Kinks song.

And that made me wonder...

Did the band realize they had something extraordinary when they were recording it, or was its success a complete surprise?

I'd also be curious whether Ray Davies has ever talked about his expectations for the song before it became a hit.

This year I'm listening to the complete catalogs of 29 classic rock artists chronologically. 329 albums in all, three times each. Every album is evaluated using seven weighted questions, with the results tracked in an Airtable database. The accumulated points ultimately rank the artists from 1–29. I'm now 200+ hours into what will be roughly a 700-hour project, and many of the questions I ask here come directly from something I've just discovered.

I'm working through Eric Clapton's catalog chronologically, listening to every album three times before evaluating it.

I'm about to start my second listen to No Reason to Cry, and I'll admit...I'm not hearing what makes this album special.

Before I press play, I thought I'd ask the people who know it best.

What should I be listening for?

Is it the songwriting? The playing? The atmosphere? Specific tracks? Are there subtle details that only emerge after a few listens?

I'm genuinely curious because I've found that hearing an album through someone else's perspective often changes what I notice.

I'm listening chronologically through the complete catalogs of 29 classic rock artists, documenting how my opinions evolve over three complete listens. One of the most rewarding parts of the project has been learning from longtime fans, so many of the questions I ask come directly from something I've just discovered.

I just finished listening to Aladdin Sane and had one of those "wait... what?" moments.

When "Panic in Detroit" came on, I was sure it had to be on ChangesOneBowie. So I looked it up.

How is it not there?  The song absolutely rocks.

Is "Panic in Detroit" the most underrated songs in Bowie's catalog, or am I simply hearing it differently because I'm experiencing it in the context of Aladdin Sane instead of as a standalone track?

I'm listening to the complete catalogs of 29 classic rock artists chronologically, three times each. 329 albums in all.  Every album is evaluated using the same weighted set of questions, with the results tracked in an Airtable database from the first listen to the last. The tallied points in turn ranks the artists 1-29.  Many of the questions I ask here come directly from that process.

Listening to "Sing This All Together (See What Happens)" immediately reminded me of Frank Zappa's "The Return of the Son of Monster Magnet" from Freak Out!.

They both explore extended percussion, sound collage, voices as texture, and a feeling of organized chaos.

I wondered if I was imagining it, but I found a 1968 review that made the same comparison:
https://www.afka.net/Articles/1968-02_Jazz_Pop.htm

I haven't found any evidence that the Stones were actually influenced by Zappa, so I'm curious has this connection ever been discussed much among Stones fans? Do you hear it?

For context: I'm listening to the complete catalogs of 29 classic rock artists chronologically, three times each. Every album is evaluated using the same set of weighted, point-based questions, with the scores tracked in an Airtable database from the first listen to the last. I've finally reached Their Satanic Majesties Request, which led me to this question.

"Clapton is God," or so I understood growing up.

But his guitar playing never quite did it for me.

Until now.

As a teenager, I suppose I expected guitar heros to be flashy and explosive. That seemed to be the style of the era.

Listening through Clapton's catalog chronologically now, at age 61, and especially after hearing Eric Clapton's Rainbow Concert, I'm beginning to hear something completely different—something slower, more restrained, and more purposeful. It's subtle, but in its own way just as impressive. Maybe even more so.

For longtime Clapton fans, did Clapton's guitar playing always work for you? If so, what should I be listening for?

My gateway into the Kinks was Low Budget, ordered through Columbia House as one of my 10 albums for a penny. I was 14 years old and absolutely devoured it. I still do — "Moving Pictures" became part of the soundtrack to my Boston to NYC walking video.

I bought Give the People What They Want and One for the Road immediately upon their release. Same with State of Confusion. I later went back and picked up Misfits. Then, for whatever reason, I stopped.

I'm now listening through the entire Kinks catalog chronologically as part of a long-term music project — three listens to every album. I've made it to Live at Kelvin Hall (which may deserve a follow-up post of its own).

I'm starting to hear glimmers of the Kinks I fell in love with, but I'm surprised it's taken six albums to get there.

I know The Village Green Preservation Society and Arthur are waiting for me. I'm ready.

For those of you who discovered the Kinks through their late-'70s and early-'80s material, when did the band you loved finally emerge?

I've started a personal project in which I'm listening to the catalogs of 29 classic rock artists, three times each, before ranking them.

In the course of this project, I've discovered that David Bowie presents a bit of a puzzle for me.

Before beginning, I thought I knew Bowie. I knew the hits. I knew the image. I knew the cultural importance. I knew the reputation.

I've completed my first listens of Bowie's early albums, and so far I've found myself respecting Bowie more than enjoying Bowie. I keep waiting for the moment when everything clicks and I suddenly understand why so many people consider him one of the greatest artists of all time.

So my question to longtime Bowie fans is this:

Was there a specific album, song, era, or even repeated exposure that made Bowie finally click for you?

Why aren't Supertramp's first two albums on Spotify?

I'm currently listening through the Supertramp catalog as part of a personal project and working my way through the albums in chronological order.

Before starting, I was already very familiar with Even in the Quietest Moments, Breakfast in America, Paris, and Brother Where You Bound. But I had never really spent time with the other albums.

The debut didn't connect with me nearly as much as the second album. After finally hearing it (on YouTube), I found it historically interesting, but not something I expect to revisit.

What surprised me was Indelibly Stamped. I actually thought it was a good album. That made me wonder why it seems to have disappeared from streaming services.

Does anyone know the actual reason these albums aren't on Spotify?