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Showing posts with label Worst To Best. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Worst To Best. Show all posts

Wednesday 28 February 2018

Worst to Best: Aerosmith

Worst to Best: Aerosmith

Hi, my name is Jared and I’m an Aerosmith fan (hi Jared!). You might be wondering how I ended up like this, and from what I can tell, it's probably a common story. You see, I’ve been dabbling in Aerosmith off and on since I was about 14 years old. It was a casual casual easy thing, you must understand. My friend introduced me to the crew, played me some of their more popular singles and I was curious, even buying a couple of their albums here and there. Oh, and boy, when Armageddon came out? Well, everyone was doing Aerosmith back then, weren’t they?

And then life went on. Yup, life went on without Aerosmith. The cool kids left them behind not long after that film, and I moved with them, because I didn’t want to look foolish. There were better bands out there, or so we were told. Aerosmith was for old people, or so we were told. Their bluesy hard rock licks became something better suited for nostalgic alone times, nothing more than a dinosaur joke when the name came up in public, some of us almost embarrassed of our long gone youthful dedication. Some of us, even refusing to admit the brief fling had ever happened.

The thing is, though, I’ve always had the taste for it. And once you get a sniff of the Aerosmith, no matter how long it’s been, it’s always somewhere on your mind—a dull nag, a certain excitable flair every time you hear a Perry riff or witness Tyler’s lips stretching out—there is a quick tingle even if you hide the sparkle well. It’s in these reflections that the blessing of age becomes apparent, as when Aerosmith announced their supposed final Aero-Vederci Baby! Tour, I nearly collapsed from a sudden panic attack, realising that this could be it. This could very well be my last chance to get a shot into my veins from the mothership, and it didn’t matter if no one understood, because this was my destiny. I immediately logged onto their website and frantically clicked a bunch of random links, filling out my credit card details until I had successfully purchased a ticket for their show in Lisbon even though I live in London.

So I flew over to Portugal, strolled into the venue, pushed reasonably close to the front, and stood there with a smirk, a beer in each hand, and a cigarette smoking from my mouth because no one seems to care over there. And then... they burst onto the stage... and I knew I was in trouble. All those past memories of Aerosmith, all those years of juvenile intoxication, it bubbled, resurfaced, amplified. I had never heard these songs so loud before. They were being created right in front of my very eyes, over there. This was not a prerecorded experience. This was the real thing. The A-grade quality, the good shit, manufactured by the chemists themselves, who were over double my age and at least twice as sexy. I never did find out what happened to that cigarette.

After the high-speed freight train of a setlist ran me over and then backed over me again, I stumbled out of the venue and eventually found my hostel with my mind wiped clean. My whole life had changed, and even if I was over 40 years too late, I swore allegiance to the Blue Army right then and there, be damned if my friends didn’t understand. I returned to London and started from the beginning, listening to each album in chronological order in a hunger, desperate to locate the slightest scent of that magic I had been previously seduced by, and what’s more, I often found it. I took note of the songs I liked. I put them together in this 6h20m 86 song playlist, the Best of Aerosmith. I priced a tattoo. I read their memoir. I quit my job. And I told everyone... everyone... that Aerosmith were the only band that mattered in the whole world.

The truth is, I’m ok now. I went all the way to the top, I touched the tip of the Aerosmith wing, and then I plummeted back to Earth, screamin’ like a demon. Everything fades, and I’m grateful for this fact, as there was no way I could have kept my engines revving at that number. I’m still dealing with the aftermath. But I regret nothing. Mark my words: your stance means very little to the history channel, Aerosmith are legends, hard rock royalty, blues-metal gods. Their place in the textbooks might not be as widely respected or as applauded as loudly as some of their forefathers, but any rock band that came from the late-70s/80s era will tell you the same thing. Aerosmith ruins lives.

Here are all of their albums, ordered from worst to best, according to me myself.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 15. Honkin’ on Bobo

15. Honkin’ on Bobo (2004)

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For the record: Honkin’ on Bobo is far from Aerosmith’s worst album. The reasons why I have labeled it as such, however, are inarguable, watch as I raise so many red flags that eventually you will agree that this offering was essentially begging for stern scrutiny. My primary argument against its honour, is that it doesn’t legitimately qualify for this list, as Bobo is a collection of 11 cover songs from the 1950s/1960s blues era, with only one (surprisingly great!) original composition. Furthermore, in context of their overall catalogue, this contribution also came out when their career was already quickly losing credibility, not to mention that this was their final release for eight years, sold as a ‘back-to-their-roots’ record, which stank of a desperate regression to relocate some sort of a former relevance. Nevertheless, as tired as it read on paper, it was anything but, as the absence of authentic Aerosmith material appeared to take the pressure off, allowing each member to flex their performance without concern, stripping back the production and having a blast with their signature energetic dirt (reportedly only recording these tracks when they were in a good mood). I have minimal hostility and fans were pleased with the result, but it’s just not truly Aerosmith, is it?


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 14. Music From Another Dimension!

14. Music From Another Dimension! (2012)

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Before you even listen to Music From Another Dimension! (Aerosmith’s “final” record), you know that you’re not in Kansas anymore. Observe their least witty album title, their most off-brand artwork, their first original collection in 11 years, and their longest runtime to date (20 minutes over an hour), which was preceded by an array of stage injuries, rehab stopovers, American Idol appearances, and break-up rumours. And then, when you actually listen to the damn thing, all of your greatest fears come true. Naturally, Joe Perry’s fingers may still be on fire with a respectable amount of decent tracks scattered throughout this assembly, but the majority of the album in question sounds confused and exhausted, dragged down by inexcusably limp production and a bloated sense of self-worth in dire need of generous trimming. The only redeeming factor here is that Aerosmith are being (or at least trying to be) Aerosmith, back to their core, not modernising themselves, acting their age, old, dated, almost dead. Otherwise, it’s a sloppy, depressing, and unmemorable album, with tormented fans begging the band to call it a day, rightfully labeling this release a “mistake” and “their worst ever”. But not me. I urge the band to give it one more go. Please, for the love of God, don’t leave us like this.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 13. Just Push Play

13. Just Push Play (2001)

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The artwork of Just Push Play sums up this record exquisitely: it's still the same old trashy Aerosmith, except polished to glimmer, one highly (over)produced album where all the hard work and money behind its birth is glaringly evident, and this is exactly the problem. By livening up their colours with poppy icing and forced hip hop influences, this is Aerosmith daringly/desperately lunging towards relevance, panicking to better fit into the industry’s modern playing field, attempting to slink into a new generation of fan’s ears, and doing so completely wrong. Instead, they only managed to distance themselves from absolutely everyone, stuck in the middle of a very spacious crowd, the epitome of when selling out does not pay. The deepest pity of all, however, is that every song on offer here could have been fixed up nicely with a few minor tweaks whilst stripping off the gleam, but for some reason, that board meeting never happened. Rather, we find an iffy slip-up around just about every corner, the cringe almost toppling the redeeming factors right over, in more ways than any other Aerosmith release. Sadly, I do recognise this as a case of "damned if you do" (catch up to contemporary standards) and "damned if you don’t" (shamelessly repeating your trusted formula), but in all fairness, for a blunder, this is still almost good enough.

“It was a learning experience for me. It showed me how not to make an Aerosmith record.” - Joe Perry


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 12. Done with Mirrors

12. Done with Mirrors (1985)

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Mirrors! Everything was cut into a perfectly straight line, neat, promising, ready for inhalation. After a six-year absence, Perry was back. Everyone was completely drug-free (despite the cheeky title innuendo). And the record was billed as their big comeback, quivering exec’s pockets and fan’s zippers alike. You’ve got to hand it to Aerosmith then, as they really went full force for it, yet missed it completely. The main issue probably came with the rusty dynamic between members, still trying to find themselves and retreating into safer ground whilst they did so, sticking to the hard rock formula which had made them famous, recoiling to recapture the live magic with yet another back to basics record. This approach made for a moderate Aerosmith offering at best, no massively memorable hits, the most obvious songs chosen for singles, softened with a little bit of filler padding (which a 35-minute record has no space for). So, naturally, it flopped a bit, no one hated it, no one was mad for it, it was badly produced, it lacked the vigour, and it sounded unfinished. However, it did have enough value to keep its head above water, and if nothing else, it was an important stepping stone for what shortly followed. But that's a different story.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 11. Draw the Line

11. Draw the Line (1977)

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When considering (the aptly titled) Draw the Line’s dismal reputation, it’s important to sympathise that this was Aerosmith’s fifth album in five years, which would be enough to burn anyone out, yet was not even a crumb to their troubles. By now, the members loathed one another, and the core Tyler/Perry dynamic were hardly even involved with the process, reportedly disinterested in the whole project from the very beginning. They had money and success, which meant the record’s budget was relatively open (they still went over) permitting the lethargic luxury of writing in the studio without any rehearsals. And, of course, the consecutive years of running full speed with their noses glued to the cocaine trail had started to catch up quickly, which is why this is often referred to as their #1 drug album (and if you know the context of Aerosmith, that's a pretty fucking big statement). Still, there’s nothing obviously wrong with this release (except perhaps the lack of inventiveness or any explosive hits), as it blasts forward perfectly, one non-stop hard rocker, the group refusing to slow their pace, never turning soft, and in the end, that's what truly matters. Due to their brand, it sold well and charted high (#11), but dropped out of sight soon after, known as the downturn towards their very first decline. They took a break after this one.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 10. Aerosmith

10. Aerosmith (1973)

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Time has been kind to Aerosmith’s self-titled debut album, fans often presenting it as an optimal example of how spirited the band used to be, one proper tacky American rock outfit, long before they lost their blues filth to a more commercial-y ballad-y path. But for me personally, I have one major gripe with this record. And before you start guessing, let me stop you right there and inform you that, no, it’s not the often criticised lifeless production, as this rough atmospheric charm added to the bar-like quality within my ears. Oh, and also, no, it's not the influences that they wore so shamelessly on their scarves either (Stones, Yardbirds, Zeppelin, Dolls etc) even though that's a common disapproval too. Rather, my principle scorn comes with Tyler himself, as the singer deepened his vocals due to performance anxiety, and this removed so much of Aerosmith’s signature nature from the product, that it’s almost a completely different band. But if we ignore all of that, no one can deny that this was a fantastic career starter, their dirtiest offering to date with one sharp edge, crude bite, and, of course, Dream On. What I love even more than this, however, is that their introduction held no telltale signs of what was to come, as a generic and “of the time” work, running the risk of fading into nothing, just another one of those many cool lost bands of the era. It's pretty rad that this is not what happened. Not even close.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 09. Night in the Ruts

09. Night in the Ruts (1979)

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After earning the first two-year gap in their recorded history, Aerosmith returned to the studio refreshed and inspired, ready to reclaim their legacy. Just kidding! They were fucked! There was a sudden severe financial turbulence due to their disproportionate exuberant lifestyles; the drug use had escalated into a much harder category; and their live shows were famously catastrophic—all of which came to an exhausted meltdown after Tyler couldn’t remember how to write lyrics anymore, and Perry quit the band in the middle of these very sessions. At a loss, the band quickly recorded three cover songs to fill in the Joe cracks, but nothing could distract from the obvious: the dream was crashing down. The wheels were falling off. And yet... the results were still remarkably satisfactory. The critics claimed that they were happier with this record in comparison to the former Draw the Line, welcoming the return of hard blues and dirty metal, whilst Aerosmith themselves have always spoken fondly about the spooneristic Night in the Ruts in hindsight. Certainly, it’ll never be dubbed a fan favourite, but I consider this to be one dishonourably underrated trademark Aerosmith offering, perhaps never fully realised, but definitely on to something or other, and deserving to be cherished much higher than it unfairly has been.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 08. Rock in a Hard Place

08. Rock in a Hard Place (1982)

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Talk about rocks and hard places, this 1982 offering is, without a doubt, the least Aerosmith Aerosmith album ever made. It’s the only record without Perry, and guitarist Whitford left during the recording too, which left Tyler mostly up to his own spices, meaning: three years of production time and $1.5 million flushed beneath an increasingly dangerous drug habit. Consequences of said intoxication can be clearly heard within these songs, for while the signature guitar-driven hard rockers may still be the epicenter, experimental studio trickery and synthy/vocoder gimmicks made a desperate appearance too, one obvious exertion aimed towards more contemporary audiences. So take this shift in a shameless direction with the loss of two essential members, and naturally, you have snobby fans who shunned and undervalued this record for all the wrong reasons. But with an open mind, Rock in a Hard Place is way better than everyone thinks. Perhaps it’s dated worse than many others due to 'modernized' 80s techniques, true, but in my opinion, it’s the most interesting release the Aerosmith brand ever put together, still today, unchallenged as so. Saying that, there is a certain relief to its floppage, because if this new Aerosmith incarnation was a soaring success, then there would be no need for Perry anymore, and we do need Perry.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 07. Get a Grip

07. Get a Grip (1993)

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As part of Aerosmith’s big comeback binge, Get a Grip may not have been the most thrilling from the team, but it is their best-selling album worldwide (not to mention that the associated music videos put Alicia Silverstone on the map), so it deserves all the respectful praise that I’m happy to gift it with. Of course, they were still hiring outside collaborators to help rejuvenate their creaky bones at this point. Of course, their cocks were aimed directly at the 90s MTV screen scene. And, of course, these disloyal principles would always churn out slightly iffy moments which have aged a touch sideways. But what it lacks in their former reckless rockstar destruction, it makes up for with a spiritedness beyond their years, following the Aero blueprint to the margin: fast, sharp, punchy hard rocking songs, with the odd power(ful!) ballad thrown in to moisten the heartbeat, all cleaned up to shout within an enormously spacious production value. Above even this, Grip is a hits album, housing some of the most adored Aerosmith concert staples to this very day, and when considering the seven singles released from a record which ran for over an hour, I guess we can say that they really... milked it. Geddit? The cover artwork? Ha!


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 06. Get Your Wings

06. Get Your Wings (1974)

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Yeah, sure, Aerosmith’s debut was great, but their second attempt, Get Your Wings, was a far more significant step up the stairway ascending towards noble stardom. The band had begun to explore their individual styling by weaning their influences out of their veins, whilst visibly seeping their own special brand of dirty confidence which dribbled from their pores—so much so, that Tyler even used his real voice this round! Hooray! The additional cash thrown towards the production output didn’t hurt either, as the youthful chemistry and hyper sex drive of these mid-20-year-olds had never sounded better, manifesting into a much harder rock record, rolling along with the blues groove which is necessary to make a true Aerosmith release. Actually, this is the very first true Aerosmith release, if we think about it. So just imagine everyone’s disappointment when the buying public weren’t quite ready for it, Get Your Wings failing to grow into the massive success it deserved to be, and yet, in hindsight, we can now value this as a very loud indication of what was to come. And what was to come... came very soon indeed, as this was the band’s final album of obscurity, moments before they exploded all the way to hell.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 05. Permanent Vacation

05. Permanent Vacation (1987)

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When 1985’s Mirrors failed to be the reinvigorated comeback record everyone had been promised, the Aerosmith base camp panicked, and pressed the emergency button, their final line of defence. Outside writers were called in to guarantee smash hits. Bon Jovi’s producer was summoned to make the guitars sound fucking huge. A Beatles cover was thrown in to secure credibility. And they all had the one same goal in mind: to create songs which would fuel the radio into first place whilst feeding the stadium crowds such boisterous bangers that everyone would forget how much money they’d spent just to be there. This means that Permanent Vacation is arguably Aerosmith’s silliest, most nauseating, and most shameful record to date. What makes it even worse, however, is that the plan totally worked! The album was a gigantic triumph, embraced by the commercial market, now known as Aerosmith’s true second wind, and admittedly, it does sound like the band had a spark lit under their asses for the first time in years. Their hard pop-rock performances were polished to shine, each track had a joyous spirit in the middle as if they were finally having fun again, and when it was good... it was as good as anything they’ve ever done. And it’s all good, baby!


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 04. Nine Lives

04. Nine Lives (1997)

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And this is where me and every other fan/critic collide. I wear my bias in daylight, confessing this as the first Aerosmith record which made an impact on me, licking the insides of my 14-year-old ears, and every listen since bringing me right back to those impressionable days. 20 years have come and gone, and I revisit this album often, defending it all the way into my old age, and taking personal offense to the unwarranted accusations so many have been far too hasty to make. Fuck you, as every song on Nine Lives works perfectly for me, I hear none of this filler you are whining about, all the while the band sounded energised and full of attitude, flawlessly balancing their heavy rockers with comfy ballads, tied together with an Indian flavouring sprinkled throughout. Musically? Vocally? Lyrically? Compositionally? Top performances from all parties, as truly an inexcusably unsung Aerosmith classic. Still, thanks to an opening run of impeccably solid single choices, this offering did top the Billboard Top 200 and win a Grammy, with everyone (even the skeptics) since agreeing that this was the band's last good album. But in my head, Nine Lives is so much more. It's as great as anything they’ve ever done. My Aerosmith record, you can’t have it.


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 03. Toys in the Attic

03. Toys in the Attic (1975)

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Toys in the Attic marks that sweet spot all rockstars are salivating for: when the drugs are still correctly blending with the creative juices, and (thanks to years of non-stop touring) the individual member cogs had unified as one confident machine. Take this with a cleaner production value, and we must once again emphasise the magical dynamic between the Toxic Twins. It was here that Perry proved himself as a virtuoso capable of composing riffs as recognisable as any guitarist in all of the rock heavyweights, whilst Tyler’s Attic deliveries were some of his most unique, spilling his seedy lyrical themes out from the inside of his cock alone. Unfortunately, the band were unable to shake the clutches of critical Zeppelin/Stones comparisons just yet, but they were getting super close, finally managing to achieve what they’d always set out to do: creating one of the better albums ever made by anyone, and as a result, placing Aerosmith on the map under their own name, armed with a massive radio hit or two now firmly secured within their repertoire. Like, I dunno, Walk this Way for example? The song which broke them into the mainstream? And also revitalised their career in the 80s when they recorded that new version with Run DMC? The new version which single-handedly invented rap-rock? Was any of this a good thing actually?


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 02. Pump

02. Pump (1989)

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Reportedly “making up for the lost time”, newly-sober Tyler traded his long-suffocating drug addiction for a rampage of sexual pursuits with equal vigour. And these immoral quests screamed nice and loudly on Pump, one high-speed full-steam charge ahead into a dirtier, coarser manifestation of their standard polished commercial comeback offerings. But while the overexcitable heart of Tyler is complemented by some of Perry’s most inventive finger work (conspiring together to build doors just to kick them down), this hard energy is still nothing more than energetic petrol, propelling a fundamentally pop-oriented craft upwards, sticking to the roof of my mouth as potentially the hookiest Aerosmith product on the market. Point proven with its singles which were all gigantic hits, like when Janie’s Got a Gun won the band their first Grammy, or when Love in an Elevator became their first #1 Mainstream Rock Track, or when I personally said What it Takes was up there with the greatest breakup songs ever written. In fact, to date this is the only Aerorecord to have three Top 10 singles in its arsenal, standing tall as one important career highlight, adored by the world, and living up to its name completely. Pump is right, mate! I’m fucking pumped!

"Pump changed my life. I'd been listening to bands like The Cult and The Mission and then discovered this album that was about fucking from beginning to end... It just blew me away." - Justin Hawkins, The Darkness


Worst to Best: Aerosmith: 01. Rocks

01. Rocks (1976)

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After the preceding Toys in the Attic album had shone the fame spotlight directly into Aerosmith’s bloodshot eyes, one would worry that their creativity candle may be snuffed out by this fresh pressure, but nope, the additional attention only served to water their dirt, as they blossomed under demand, finally where they were always supposed to be. Meet Rocks, the crudest, most heaviest record in the band’s entire armoury, the Bad Boys from Boston only getting louder and more merciless, artistically grinding up against the strict hard rock boundaries with an onslaught of spunk, shooting in her eyes with passionate intent, whilst the band’s chemistry was at an all-time high—and I’m not (only) talking about the drugs here. Surprisingly, what truly works in Rocks’ favour above all else, was the lack of hit songs, as they preferred a steady half-hour charge of reliable quality, no radio pity, blasting out the other side as one of the most classic hard rock albums to ever set fire to the genre (according to Mötley Crüe, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, and Nirvana). Basically, it changed the game forever, and I wouldn’t dare fuck with that, so here we are, the best Aerosmith album ever made, done.

“I first heard Rocks when I was 13 or 14. There was this girl, Laurie, and I'd been trying to get into her pants for what seemed like forever. She was the hottest chick in school and just exuded—no, excreted—sex appeal. One day I rode my BMX bike over to her place. We smoked a bunch of pot, and she started playing me records. [...] From the moment she put it on and "Back in the Saddle" started playing, I was glued to the album. She just vanished into the shadows, and I completely forgot about her. [...] After I digested the album six or seven times at this chick's apartment, I just got up, grabbed my smokes, jumped on my bike and went home. I never did get laid. But not too long after, I picked up my guitar, and I've been doing this ever since.” - Slash, Guns N' Roses





Wednesday 24 May 2017

Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino

Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino

Tarantino has always felt like the most tasteless of all directors to label as your favourite. It seemed like the moment he simultaneously fell upon everyone’s radar in my high school at the exact same time, there was not a youth with enough education to dare call anyone better, and still to this day, he seems like the laziest go-to choice for the casual movie viewers' title of 'greatest director in the world'. I lose respect for anyone who says this, even in our old age.

However, I must stay true to my tastebuds, and sheepishly surrender that, yes, indeed, Mr Tarantino may very well be the greatest director to appear in the scene in the last two decades. And I know why this is. It’s because he cheats! Everything Tarantino has ever done was shamelessly stolen without even trying to hide it, his entire filmography working like a mashed amalgamation of pop culture goodness, rebranded as his own with the original label still visible beneath; a copy cat without any reservations, essentially flexing his film knowledge out in the sun, like a rapid succession of pretentious winks for anyone else who had been paying as close attention as he has—which isn’t anyone. And it is exactly this theft that makes him so captivating. It’s his absolute adoration for the film medium itself, a love which runs deeper and more obvious than any other director that could possibly come to mind, no matter how far back you look. His very glee inside of the artform glows with each and every piece he’s presented us with, which may just be the most exciting and beautiful movie thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Ok, so now that I’ve exposed his exclusive technique of plagiarising for his own gain, let’s step back and admit that this is not a completely fair assessment in the bigger picture. All forgery aside, the true magic of Tarantino’s massacre is that he has got to be the most fearless director the mainstream has ever accepted into their circle of trust. He runs knives-first into the most needless depths of violence whilst shouting the n-word like it was an offhand conjunction; such a loud display that even he can’t hear the queues of offended people left behind, begging him to stop. How he’s managed to maintain this level of momentum without the masses boycotting his career is no secret: it is achieved by haphazardly balancing the most politically incorrect of scenes with the fairest portrayal of those who need a fair portrayal. Yes, he’ll write about a black man getting torn apart by dogs for racial motives all the while being called a 'nigger' by everyone in proximity. Yes, we’ll see various examples of a woman getting the blood beaten out of her eyeballs by multiple fists from larger men. But no one can deny that his lead characters are proud representatives of the people he appears to unjustly discriminate against on the surface level, and whether of an African descent or of the female genetics, these are often the heroes of his stories without shying away from treating them like shit and tackling these historic issues without any dread of a backlash, regardless of what Spike Lee may tell you. And that takes balls. Big fat hairy balls, that's what Quentin's got.

But none of this would matter in the context of the medium if he didn't make damn good movies. And he makes damn good movies. They are thorough, with their peculiar storylines delivered in a snazzy punchy style, with a careful focus on the backing soundtrack and loads of close-ups of feet, whilst refusing to shed the ambience of humour no matter how dire the circumstance. Oh, and his dialogue? It’s better than anybody’s, truly. All of which conspires together to make any attempt at a 'Worst to Best' list of Tarantino's work so insulting (albeit a rather easy and predictable effort to order) because, no matter whether discussing his greatest work or his most disappointing, every single one of his films reek of genius. All of them, it’s always genius. And I’ve seen each of them, many, many times.

So let’s get to it then, but before we do, please note that this list only considered full-length works which the man has written and directed himself. This means I did not even look at such films as My Best Friend's Birthday (it’s a short), Four Rooms (he was only responsible for one of four segments), Sin City (guest director), True Romance, Natural Born Killers, From Dusk till Dawn (he wrote those, but did not direct them) etc etc. If that’s ok, light me up a Red Apple, and let’s get rambling. Or even if this is not ok, Jesus Christ, Joe, fucking forget about it. It's beneath me. I'm Mr Pink. Let's move on.


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 09. Grindhouse: Death Proof

09. Grindhouse: Death Proof (2007)

Watch the Trailer
“To me, it’s all about my filmography, and I want to go out with a terrific filmography. Death Proof has got to be the worst movie I ever make. And for a left-handed movie, that wasn’t so bad, all right? So if that’s the worst I ever get, I’m good. But I do think one of those out-of-touch, old, limp, flaccid-dick movies costs you three good movies as far as your rating is concerned.”

Death Proof may be everyone's local ‘worst Tarantino ever made omg’, but whatever this flick lacks in execution, it weighs out with the man's inescapable love of film, more or less. Teaming up with Robert Rodriguez, the idea was to recreate a double grindhouse exploitation feature just like they did in the old days: two films back-to-back, one being Rodriguez’s waaay over the top Planet Terror, and the other, this: a tale of a stuntman who uses his death proof car to murder young ladies by crashing into shit, which is just lovely. Inspired by slasher films and muscle car movies from the 70s, the low-budget damaged tape vibe was stylistically impressive, but not even close to as impressive as the energetic high speed motor chases which employed absolutely no CGI whatsoever, meaning that (the Kill Bill stuntwoman) Zoë Bell's first on-screen role was an incredibly dangerous one, and verifying that even at his lowest, Quentin still knew no half measures. That said, all the overloaded fun value in the world could not escape the reality that this was pure junk food, a mindless formula consisting of fast cars, hot girls, and violent action thrown together to support one relatively flimsy plot, wholly lacking the depth that convinced Tarantino's followers to give up their pocket money in the first place. Fans of the genre may love it, but even the biggest fans of the director (me!) will more than likely be left with a craving. It's still awesome though!

Recurring contributors: Michael Bacall; Zoë Bell; Omar Doom; Helen Kim; Jonathan Loughran; James Parks; Michael Parks; Tina Rodriguez; Eli Roth; Kurt Russell


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 08. Jackie Brown

08. Jackie Brown (1997)

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“Jackie Brown is better the second time. And I think it’s even better the third. And the fourth time… maybe even the first time we see it we go, ‘Why are we doing all this hanging out? Why can’t we get to more of the plot?’ But now the second time you see it, and the third time you see it, you’re not thinking about the plot anymore. You’re waiting for the hangout scenes”

A crime thriller homage to 1970’s blaxploitation films, Jackie Brown was adapted from Elmore Leonard's 1992 novel Rum Punch, meaning this was the only film Tarantino has adapted from a previous work, which could be where the problem started. Telling the story of (you guessed it) Jackie Brown, here we have a middle aged air hostess who finds herself in the middle of a large money smuggling conflict, performed elegantly by 1970’s action film heroin Pam Grier, whose Golden Globe nominated role reportedly revitalised her career—a fact which does not surprise me whatsoever. But while Grier may have been the glue between the already impressively well chosen cast, general consensus is that this Tarantino contribution was lacking a certain something. Perhaps it was that, as his third film, the relaxed pacing, lengthy running time, and moderate storyline couldn’t compete with his previous two masterpieces' flashy fashion and rabid violence; a simpler submission far too grown-up for his standard bloodthirsty fans, who struggled to murder their neighbours to its down-to-earth narrative and lack of any comic book teenage appeal. But what you need to know before passing judgement is that these factors were all very calculated and intentional, which places Brown as still one fully commendable project, criminally underrated even as one of his worst, and requiring multiple views to fully appreciate, no matter what this low position tells you. Don't listen to me.

Recurring contributors: Michael Bowen; Sid Haig; Samuel L. Jackson; Venessia Valentino


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 07. Kill Bill: Volume 1

07. Kill Bill: Volume 1 (2003)

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"Let's pretend we're little kids and we're making a Super 8 movie in our back yard, and you don't have all this shit. How would you achieve this effect? Ingenuity is important here!"

The fact that Uma Thurman helped Quentin Tarantino conceive the martial arts film Kill Bill during Pulp Fiction’s production becomes acutely obvious very quickly, as this film is undeniably The Uma Show. Her character, a nameless bride, wakes up to find her unborn baby is gone, and she seeks vengeance on the team of assassins she was once a part of. And you better believe she does just that, with so much bloody cartoon violence and such an immensely excessive death toll left in her footsteps, that there was no real need for any backstory here in the first place. Rather, this silly bit of cinema hyperspeeds along the surface, supported solely by flaunting fight scenes and sharp eye-candy, featuring characters void of any depth, who cling onto so many cultural nods that Quentin’s love for film is worn more proudly on his semen-encrusted director’s cap here, than probably anywhere else. However, any soul or intelligence deficiencies are expertly distracted by its overpowering entertainment value, swords swinging and guts spraying so abundantly that you can almost hear Tarantino laughing joyfully behind the camera, like the sick sadistic fuck we know he is. Granted, this film may only be half of the whole story, but once it reaches the credits, it doesn't feel like an incomplete piece of work whatsoever, and while it wasn’t every fan’s favourite cup of revenge, $180 million box office (his highest up to that point) doesn't lie really.

Recurring contributors: Zoë Bell; Michael Bowen; Laura Cayouette; Julie Dreyfus; Sid Haig; Samuel L. Jackson; Helen Kim; Jonathan Loughran; Michael Madsen; James Parks; Michael Parks; Stevo Polyi; Shana Stein; Bo Svenson; Uma Thurman; Venessia Valentino


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 06. Kill Bill: Volume 2

06. Kill Bill: Volume 2 (2004)

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"What if a kid goes to school after seeing Kill Bill and starts slicing up other kids? You know, I'll take that chance!"

The Bride may have continued on her sweet little vengeful mission here, but the two Kill Bill parts were almost incomparable. Gone was the gore and the rushed action of the original, now replaced by personal developments, lengthy dialogue, and a carefully relaxed pacing which lay down with a significantly decreased body count (92 less, to be exact). Such an encouragement of heart over heart attacks was not as immediately appealing as the previous slaughter commotion, and initial fans struggled to stomach the anticlimax, failing to appreciate how the additional substance justified the first part’s absurd assault, ultimately leaving the second volume as the far more important of the two. It gave the first bloody mess a purpose and a better context, which I guess is what happens when you split one film in half, but whatever, that doesn't matter. What does matter, however, is that many used the Kill Bill chapters as landmark examples of where Tarantino was supposedly spiralling, the public doubting whether he had any good films left in him whatsoever. Thankfully, hindsight has proved them all deadly wrong. Instead, time has passed and other great (great!) films were produced, and now we can all appreciate this affair as yet another fantastic and worthy Tarantino work, because he always had the talent to make any movie he wanted. He just wanted to make these movies.

Recurring contributors: Zoë Bell; Michael Bowen; Laura Cayouette; Julie Dreyfus; Sid Haig; Samuel L. Jackson; Helen Kim; Jonathan Loughran; Michael Madsen; James Parks; Michael Parks; Stevo Polyi; Shana Stein; Bo Svenson; Uma Thurman; Venessia Valentino


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 05. The Hateful Eight

05. The Hateful Eight (2015)

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“Twice per season, those shows [Bonanza, The Virginian and The High Chaparral] would have an episode where a bunch of outlaws would take the lead characters hostage [...] I don't like that storyline in a modern context, but I love it in a Western, where you would pass halfway through the show to find out if they were good or bad guys, and they all had a past that was revealed. I thought, 'What if I did a movie starring nothing but those characters? No heroes, no Michael Landons. Just a bunch of nefarious guys in a room, all telling backstories that may or may not be true. Trap those guys together in a room with a blizzard outside, give them guns, and see what happens.”

Of all the entries from the Tarantino cannon, The Hateful Eight had unquestionably the most turbulent history. Personally, I was somewhat disappointed that this mystery film was yet another Western, initially envisioned as a Django Unchained sequel, indicating that our special Quentin had found his passion and it didn’t coincide with mine. Even more damaging, was when the script leaked almost two years before the release date, enraging the man so passionately that he nearly shelved the whole idea—imagine! It’s a goddamn blessing, then, that neither of these concerns were warranted, as this movie turned out to be the man’s most thought out piece of work since Pulp Fiction, as well as furthering the impressive continuation of his second wind. Telling the backstories of various heinous characters who are trapped in a cabin due to a snowstorm, it reveals its intent at a heavy pacing by using all the signature Tarantino carnage and dialogue you demanded, really forcing the viewer into the claustrophobic room whilst achieving so much stress with so little accessories, communicating like a stage play over any usual film techniques. Which is to summarise, that there wasn’t all that much to work with here, and in that way, demonstrated that Tarantino was still challenging himself above challenging any of us, which is invaluable. And then... there’s Jennifer Jason Leigh. My God.

Recurring contributors: Zoë Bell; Bruce Dern; Walton Goggins; Dana Gourrier; Lee Horsley; Samuel L. Jackson; Keith Jefferson; Michael Madsen; Belinda Owino; James Parks; Tim Roth; Kurt Russell; Craig Stark


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 04. Django Unchained

04. Django Unchained (2012)

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"What happened during slavery times is a thousand times worse than [what] I show. So if I were to show it a thousand times worse, to me, that wouldn't be exploitative, that would just be how it is. If you can't take it, you can't take it.”

Surprisingly, for such a latter day film, none came with the same potent controversy as Django Unchained did. Telling the tale of a freed slave attempting to rescue his wife, this extravagant Spaghetti Western tackled the dark side of black history without giving a fuck in the way only Tarantino would dare. It was called an exploitative, politically incorrect, inaccurate and tasteless portrayal of slavery, crudely balancing the revolting shock of the era with a cheesy playfulness, without approaching the harsh topic with caution or to even turn around and apologise for what he has done. However, it was this lack of restraint that made Django Unchained potentially his most entertaining (and funniest!) flick, delivering on everything his past talents had promised (the cartoon violence, the chatty narrative, the rich development, etc) with the most immaculate of immaculate casting to back him up, as long as you ignore the director’s worst cameo yet. Take Jamie Foxx’s main character, for example, as the greatest hero in Quentin’s factory (in my opinion), whilst Leonardo DiCaprio gives a career defining performance, and round it off with Samuel L. Jackson's uniquely treacherous character, a risky individual for an actor who usually just plays himself. That said, none of these outstanding acts managed to out-stand Christoph Waltz, who stole the whole fucking film as his own, which I guess is just what he does. Sadly, these pretty faces may not have been enough to carry such a tiring length to the very end, and most agree that the picture did beg for a small edit, but as a whole, this ride was so fresh and wild that it was here and only here that Tarantino’s genius was solidified as something beyond any reasonable fluke. Because, by this point, he's made far too many treasures for his skills to be anything but God-given. Bang!

Recurring contributors: Michael Bacall; Zoë Bell; Michael Bowen; Laura Cayouette; Bruce Dern; Walton Goggins; Dana Gourrier; Lee Horsley; Samuel L. Jackson; Keith Jefferson; Belinda Owino; James Parks; Michael Parks; Craig Stark; David Steen; Shana Stein; Christoph Waltz


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 03. Inglourious Basterds

03. Inglourious Basterds (2009)

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"I'm going to find a place that actually resembles, in one way or another, the Spanish locales they had in Spaghetti Westerns – a no man's land. With U.S. soldiers and French peasants and the French resistance and German occupation troops, it was kind of a no man's land. That will really be my Spaghetti Western but with World War II iconography. But the thing is, I won't be period specific about the movie. I'm not just gonna play a lot of Édith Piaf and Andrews Sisters. I can have rap, and I can do whatever I want. It's about filling in the viscera."

When it came to the intentionally misspelled Inglourious Basterds, even Tarantino knew he was onto a winner. The American-German war film (unlike any other war film) took it upon itself to rewrite the past however it saw fit, guaranteed to piss historians right off with its inaccurate tale of vengeful Jews and their violent plans against Nazi leaders—which was just the type of irresponsible idea that Quentin would be very precious about. So much so, that he spent over a decade writing it, a feat that alone verified his adoration for cinema, especially when ‘love of cinema’ was an essential part of the whole plot. And his dedication paid off, as this was the director’s undeniable comeback film, finally a real movie after such a strew of self indulgent wobbles, setting the stage for the greats that followed soon after (even if none of them were quite as good as this). It may have been a silly plot if you stepped back and thought about it, but he never gave you the chance to step back or think, rather cutting into your forehead with a devilishly devious story which did not rely on artiness or excessive violence to express itself, ultimately standing up there with the very best of his best, and a complete masterpiece in my respectful opinion. Hell, Christoph Waltz even won an Oscar for his part, because, goddamn, he made this film what it was, as much as this film made him who he is right now today.

Recurring contributors: Michael Bacall; Zoë Bell; Omar Doom; Julie Dreyfus; Samuel L. Jackson; Harvey Keitel; Tina Rodriguez; Eli Roth; Bo Svenson; Christoph Waltz


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 02. Reservoir Dogs

02. Reservoir Dogs (1992)

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“Reservoir Dogs is a small film, and part of its charm was that it was a small film. I'd probably make it for $3 million now so I'd have more breathing room.“

I was far too young when I watched Reservoir Dogs for the first time. I can still remember it all too well: little Jared, witnessing the aftermath of a jewellery heist gone wrong, criminals speculating that they had a cop in their crew, stitching together the nonlinear plot with pop culture references and extravagant profanity, the story exclusively herded by the criminal’s individual personalities, entirely dependent on their natural dialogue and quick wit to make this show work, because there wasn’t enough money for anything else. And this fucked me up. The reason for my youthful troubles wasn't so much the grisly violence, as Dogs' bloodshed was quite tame in comparison to the exaggerated disturbances that came later in the man's career, but rather, it was the delivery and consequence of said violence that made everything all that more unnerving. So ruthless. So ugly. So sadistically sick that even horror film pioneer Wes Craven walked out of its initial screening due the savage nastiness, and that’s about as complimentary as you can get. Meanwhile, the rest of us called it a cult classic, the greatest independent film of all time, and even the greatest debut of all time, none of which I can disagree with. Fuck me if I can think of anything more worthy of those crowns, can you?

Recurring contributors: Steve Buscemi; Linda Kaye; Harvey Keitel; Michael Madsen; Stevo Polyi; Tim Roth; David Steen; Rich Turner


Worst to Best: Quentin Tarantino: 01. Pulp Fiction

01. Pulp Fiction (1994)

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"I got the idea of doing something that novelists get a chance to do but filmmakers don't: telling three separate stories, having characters float in and out with different weights depending on the story [... the idea] was basically to take like the oldest chestnuts that you've ever seen when it comes to crime stories—the oldest stories in the book.... You know, 'Vincent Vega and Marsellus Wallace's Wife'—the oldest story about ‘the guy's gotta go out with the big man's wife and don't touch her.’ You know, you've seen the story a zillion times [...] I'm using old forms of storytelling and then purposely having them run awry [...] Part of the trick is to take these movie characters, these genre characters and these genre situations and actually apply them to some of real life's rules and see how they unravel."

Ok, so here we go. With several disjointed violent crime tales interconnecting everything all out of order, Pulp Fiction is at least four films rather than one. It was reportedly 'too demented' for Columbia TriStar, and instead became the first fully-funded film Miramax ever put out. It demanded the attention and concentration of multiple viewings to fully appreciate the dark wit and sharp sleaziness of this director, one who had gained full confidence without losing his B-movie edge inside of an overindulgent-prostate, like pretty much everything else that came out of him afterwards. You can actually watch this movie as many times as you like, I’ve seen it a million times and want to watch it right now. Its pop culture references and countless homages were twisted so far from their original mothers that they became unrecognisable, whilst every (every!) scene from the film became easily parodied cinema classics themselves. It single-handedly revitalised Travolta’s career. It was the first 'indie' film to surpass $100 million. It was nominated for seven Oscars. It was an influential masterpiece, essentially a phenomenon, and the best film Tarantino ever made. One of the best films ever made? Perhaps the best film ever made.

Recurring contributors: Steve Buscemi; Samuel L. Jackson; Linda Kaye; Harvey Keitel; Tim Roth; Uma Thurman; Rich Turner; Venessia Valentino

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