Worst to Best: Radiohead

Be quiet for a moment. Listen. Can you hear that? The frenzied chattering has stopped. That intolerable flat hiss, I think I finally got rid of it! Perhaps this outcome is a little obvious in hindsight, but I definitely didn’t see it coming. I’ve spent the last two decades in full defense mode, every morning habitually standing rigid with my nose pressed against the mirror, aggressively debating the ranking order of Radiohead’s works, not only based on their brilliance, but also their influence on my existence. Occasionally, there were words which nearly turned to blows, believe me. I guess looking back, it does make some sense to connect these routine practices to some of my more... inconvenient disturbances. It's just that I’ve heard that rusted train of my mind grinding against those contemplation tracks over and over and over again, so many times that the wheels had permanently scarred the iron. The levee of Radiohead opinions had built up so much pressure from all angles of discussion that the eventual relief of venting the floodgates became an uncontrollable scene of gushing reflection, so eager to finally escape the cocooned prison of my skull after so many years of confinement. Not a single original thought was required in the composition of this article. These passages wrote themselves. These are not my words, I was merely the medium, and yet I will happily take the credit, thank you.

Please ignore that whole bit I said earlier on about those voices in my head hahaha I was only joking about that hahahaha obviously lol. But even despite whatever, it’s surprising that I only wrote this piece now, for reasons I hardly need to explain. Radiohead have been my on-again, off-again favourite-band-in-the-world love affair since the early 2000s, which means that I was actually embarrassingly late to the gathering. Regardless, I made up for lost time by pissing on everything and claiming it as mine so loudly that everyone simply assumed I’d always been here. Radiohead themselves, however, are why we’re having this conversation even if I’ve only really been talking about myself thus far.

Ok, so Radiohead then, already an undeniably fat chapter in the textbook of musical greats. I could easily copy and paste a dramatic swarm of extraordinary achievements from Wikipedia, using those numbers and polls to present a bulletproof case proving their already monumental legacy, but instead, I’d rather present my ballsack with this little declaration: Radiohead are one of the most important bands in history, and the only reason they don’t get their due acknowledgement in this regard, is because they are still going. Believe me when I look at you in the eyes, and I tell you with all the stress my lungs can muster, that in 50 years, they will still be an academic topic, and your grandchildren will be asking you if you ever saw them live (for the record, I have, three times). They are like The Beatles, in that they have enough mainstream appeal to conquer the charts with every release, and yet they also have the artsy smarts to push even the most seasoned of pompous stoners far out of their cosmos. They are also like The Beatles, because they have never released a bad album, they got better as they went along, and they somehow maintained a firm grasp on each member, not a single unit of the tight Radiohead crew ever leaving or being replaced, which includes their producer (since 1997) and go-to artwork designer (since 1995). Basically, they are like The Beatles of our time, do you understand?? I’m not even the first to say this! I really wish I was though!

Shit, you’re still here? Was I doing the thing again? Sorry, I didn't realise you were waiting for me. Let’s walk in this straight line then. Presenting the Worst to Best of Radiohead, the definitive order, no one else’s list is correct unless it goes exactly like this, no exceptions:

09. Pablo Honey (1993)

Alternative Britpop Rock
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Considering all of their inconceivable feats, one Radiohead achievement which was impressively unique stands as this one: their first album was their absolute worst. Usually, a band’s debut features years of hard work and live rehearsals before a record deal answers the phone, meaning that most bands' standard introduction is essentially a greatest hits compilation, artists traditionally only stumbling during the sophomore pressure. In Radiohead’s case, however, their launch came crushed beneath the “One Hit Wonder” sticker of doom, Creep almost embarrassingly regarded as their signature tune, somehow still to this very day. Yet as part of the whole package, this song and album were nothing more than self-loathing grunge copies, painfully 90s, so common, so conventional, absent of the artsyfarts they ultimately became known for. Be all of that as it may, however, hindsight has been warmer, and I value both sides of the tugging rope. Obviously, if we compare Pablo to what followed, it’s gum under their boots, unanimously agreed upon as their weakest endeavour, lacking everything that made them great in later years. But! If we praise it as the very first step of such a historic journey, it’s one fascinating listen, with occasional winks towards what was to come (Blow Out, hello??), and in the end, unfairly dismissed only because it was the easy thing to do.

08. The King of Limbs (2011)

Experimental Electronic Rock
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There is no Radiohead album more problematic to dissect than that of The King of Limbs. You end up contradicting yourself, writing in circles, scribbling out of the lines, and then forgetting where you were going with that. The band had evidently made the conscious decision to drive their creative power out into the fields of weird again, by dancing around glitchy rhythmic centers and looped samples, one studio-heavy twitch, while traditional instrumentation was almost dissolved in the light rainfall. And yet even these electronic jitters were surprisingly relaxed, lost deep within the thought of a very strange nature, spooky and ominous and... dull? Which was where the dilemma started. Everyone agreed that this was a good record, but it was lacking... something. Lacking ingenuity? Lacking a pivotal artistic development point? Lacking basically what every Radiohead album had excelled at before this? Lacking of limbs? Who are we to say? And yet, somehow, impossibly, it was these very downfalls which also blossomed as TKOL’s most notable strengths, as the record was abandoned by the circle of approval, and in turn, became the ugly beautiful reject, sat outside the cafeteria, forsaken by its peers, not included, uninvited. Because it was too short. Because certain songs were obviously much healthier than others. Because the exclusion of The Daily Mail is one of Radiohead’s greatest professional mistakes. Because, perhaps, we still just don’t get it.

07. Amnesiac (2001)

Experimental Electronic Art Rock
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Ignoring what Thom told you, Amnesiac is less of an album, more of a b-side collection of Kid A residual. Kid B. The reject twin. Recorded during the same sessions, severed at birth, the ugly scraps carved off of the prime meat, thrown aside to keep the host mother pristine, packaged separately and sold at cost price. Due to this gruesome spectacle, Amnesiac will forever wither beneath an infinite shadow, unfairly compared to the superior product, labelled as an inconsistent, flawed bag of mixed treats, one diverse mess of graceless jazz-fidgets, a stiff machine of mentally unstable restlessness. Cast your mind back to the asphyxiation of Kid A who was released a mere eight months earlier, and the comparisons turn even stranger. Remember how resistant the public outcry was against the first-born? And then remember how the grain of glorification expanded until Kid A was honoured as the most innovative album of the decade? Strange then how the apathetic confusion for Amnesiac still stands relatively fixed, fans remaining uncertain, half-heartedly debating its importance without too much interested in a satisfactory resolution—it's just not worth the effort. But hear me now: this album is the rarest of all the Radioheads. Say what you will about Kid A (and we do!), but this specific congregation is a far more carefree, band-y, song-y, and unpredictably mysterious offering than anything the aforementioned classic would even dare to be. Hence why this is unchallenged as the greatest b-side compilation ever created, so says me, amen.

06. The Bends (1995)

Alternative Rock
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For close to 10 years, Radiohead’s career was a path of obvious stepping stones, calculated progressions, moving forward in dramatic strides, yet unable to fully shake the scent of their previous environment. Armed with that thought (and overlooking the immensely conflicted public reaction between the two), The Bends is Pablo Honey. They were both standard 90s guitar rock affairs with the instantaneous superglue stick of Britpoppy ideology, except this time... they came bearing songs which were actually good. Great, even. A far more textured meal. Not a sliver of filler on offer. The band’s puberty record, and goodness gracious me, they were growing up so fast, featuring some of their most impressive compositional statements to date, purely because they hadn't cowered beneath the safety net of artiness just yet, instead presenting a simple collection of moods which either sunk deep into the abyss of depression, or shouted loud from waves of distorted aggression (a scarcely found demeanor on future recordings). Contemplate all of this with Godrich and Donwood now permanently on board, and the constellation had lined up forever, sketching the episode where our legendary tale truly begins. So... one of the most influential alternative albums ever made? Oh God, undeniably so! But ahead of its time? Not whatsoever. And, therefore, the tiniest bit overrated? What, are you asking me? Yes.

05. Hail to the Thief (2003)

Alternative Art Rock
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If we were to individually personify this catalogue’s components, Hail to the Thief would be the lunatic most likely to win in a brawl. Here is the ugliest of monsters, hiding within a dark forest you remember from a childhood bedtime story; bitter, anxious, confused, and ready to eat you. What a densely dangerous tale that is. The band's intention was to cook this concoction very quickly with all artistic pretensions turned up to the maximum and a political kick in their step. The meeting point was conveniently organised in the dead center of their musical map; the long-rejected guitar riffs were back and they were angry, balanced out by the palpitations from their most recent electronic adventures, complete with panicked uptempos and draggy sedation, the best of both Radiohead worlds now copulating, somehow birthing a baby completely different from either parent. Contradictory to the years preceding, this was not some sucker-punch of transformation, but rather a familiar murder, growing over your body like a moss, suffocating you until you were all gone. Initial critics were frustrated and have often left this album behind, foolishly regarding it as a lengthy, exhausting, and flawed project. Yet, in hindsight, Hail to the Thief is absolutely timeless, towering over the Radiohead land as their most underrated of treasures, sounding more relevant now than it ever did. Hail it, you ungrateful fucks! Hail it!

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Worst to Best: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

04. OK Computer (1997)

Alternative Art Rock
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Radiohead’s success was bleaking them out. The isolation was pushing their naked skin against a cold metal until they were hopelessly scared, and then they shattered outwards. This was a natural defense mechanism, an abstract progression which had begun to lose grip on the guitar work, the strings visibly evaporating into an atmospheric fog, controlled by machines plotting their conquest. During this crisis, OK Computer stabbed up through the ground, and the people fell to their knees, instantaneously worshipping it as a historical landmark, frozen in the most important league of all albums ever made. We were no longer dealing with an ordinary band anymore, that much was certain. Make no miscalculations: without this record, Radiohead would not be a conversation. This is still the album which all of their other albums lean upon, sprouting outwards in one way or another with their own dedicated followers, but everyone—art students, simpleton radio listeners, critical publications, award ceremonies, MTV execs, Library of Congress—everyone agreed that this was a significant contribution to the very fiber of music itself. And yet... for me... it felt like the aura of devotion had outgrown the nervous system, while the devotees themselves were so delirious by its fumes that you couldn't engage in a sober dialogue about their fucking holy artifact. Please, you must believe me, I get it. It's OK Computer. It's an insult to even call this an album. But when I listen to it, I hear the restless sound of a distracted band headed somewhere else. This is a mere stopover, where Radiohead filled up with gas, checked the map, and then continued on their quest towards the boundaries of themselves. Which, as we all know, was a territory they discovered shortly afterward...

03. A Moon Shaped Pool (2016)

Art Rock Chamber Pop
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In the evolution of Radiohead, each phase reads like a forceful push towards an epiphany, scrounging for elitist influences whilst utilising unprecedented promotional methods until we all receive yet another grandiose announcement that, of course, the band have gone and done everything differently once again. A Moon Shaped Pool was not that. The desperate sense of experimental urgency had been distracted, the yearning to prove themselves had been smothered out by creamy layers of orchestral ambiance and luscious glooms, inspired by nothing but their own introspections, finally breathing in that fresh cold oxygen that they had invented themselves. In this place, the group seemed their most comfortable, standing dignified on a level terrain, no song singing louder than another, a melodic mid-tempo heart rate keeping them live as they held hands with a ghostly figure, looking into each other's eyes, both defenseless yet never boring, sculpted to an icy perfection, melting within your freezing palm. And now here we are, the definitive proof that three decades worth of industry aging does not equate to becoming stale. No loss of talent can ever be blamed on time, because... Radiohead. Radiohead! Still the world’s most crucially valuable musical act, after wearing that title for a lifespan longer than any other group in history. Three decades! Nobody has been this important for that long.

02. In Rainbows (2007)

Alternative Art Rock
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It’s impossible to avoid the sidetrack temptations, and we will always end up discussing In Rainbows as the benchmark album it was before anyone had even heard the damn thing. With this contribution, the band had become the first major act known to employ the pay-what-you-want model, an adventurous gamble which questioned the very value of music with deafening reactions fluctuating from all sides of fans and industry workers alike. But Radiohead were independent now! They did what they wanted! And surprisingly, what they wanted to do, was present a normal album for once, perhaps the least pretentious piece they’d accomplished since The Bends, except happier, more upbeat, and confidently assertive. In fact, the strangest aspect of this release was the aforementioned financial experiment, so what else do you even wanna know? Everything is in the name anyways. In Rainbows, eh. That colourful dream we had back in 2007, when Radiohead gently floated down from their artsy pedestal carrying a collection of rich, self-reliant songs, easy to digest with the rulebook still perfectly intact, alluring the listener with romantic gestures, inviting us to sit down in this naturally attractive landscape as they fed us their latest delicacies without wasting a single moment of our time. And it was in these thoughts, that the band’s seventh studio album became their most flawless gift yet, transcending the irrelevant business strategies, and standing as one of the very few perfect records I’ve ever heard in my life.

01. Kid A (2000)

Experimental Electronic Art Rock
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The OK Computer microscope had squeezed a mental breakdown out of Yorke’s brain, and that’s when Radiohead hit their peak disinterest. The straight-A students had grown bored of outsmarting their teachers, and with the blessing of a label who were still sopping wet from Radiohead money, our heroes climbed into their spaceship and set sail, determined to discover the confines of the Radiohead universe. And this is what they found: stretched minimal ambiences; skittish IDM drum patterns; freeform jazz ethics weaving gorgeously cold soundscapes together as a singular unit; disjointed one-liners and a pulsation of obscure electronics humming out into the atmosphere; structureless and abstract everything; the guitar is dead in space. Now lift up these cryptic complexities, and below you will note the rewarding reaction from critics, who (perplexed by the fruits that this otherworldly excursion had produced) hastily dismissed the result as “awful”, without exercising the necessary hesitation required to adequately bite through its texture, tasting that metallic winter which would dribble down their throats and choke their voices shut. These critics have since been banished, sealed in an embarrassing hole of ignorance forever, forced to repent, admitting now that Kid A was the prophecy we had all been promised. It crippled the imitators, it floated ahead of its time and ahead of time itself, and continues to expand to this very day. Look around you. It's nearly two decades on, and with a little bit of honesty, you'll confess this as still the most important album of the millennia according to criteria which extends beyond your own opinion. And while we're still talking, this is a high competitor for the greatest album ever made as well. And now we're not talking.

If you'd like to hear my favourite songs from each of these albums, you can! Here is a little 70 song 5h08m Spotify playlist just for you. Don't worry about it.

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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.

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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Worst to Best: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

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!

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.

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!

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.

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?

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

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

If you'd like to hear my favourite songs from each of these albums, you can! Here is a little 86 song 6h20m Spotify playlist just for you. Don't worry about it.

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