It’s Consequence’s 15th anniversary, and all September long we’ll be publishing a series of retrospective pieces encompassing our publication’s own history — and the entertainment landscape in general. Today, we’re kicking it off with our new and improved 100 Greatest Albums of All Time list.
Dig the artwork on this list? You can grab a 100 Greatest Albums of All Time poster here, and a framed version here. We’ve also printed the design on T-shirts and tote bags.
Oh my God, we’re back again. It’s been over a decade since we first took a shot at boiling down all of popular music history into the 100 greatest albums of all time. Forget about how opinions have changed over those 12 years — the entire culture has shifted. Even the people taking part in this exercise are different, as only two staff members who were part of the OG list, published in 2010, remain with Consequence today.
Understandably, things are going to be different this time. Tastes have been reshaped, genres have been born and died away, and the way we divvy up importance through history has been altered by the very nature of the present. All of this factors into putting together a behemoth like this, which means records that weren’t considered — or even released — the last time we undertook this challenge now have prominent placement. In turn, other great works have been bumped off, or down, or up.
One thing remains the same, however: You’re going to disagree about as much as you agree with what we’ve done here. You’re going to wonder how album X didn’t warrant mention, or why album Y is higher than album Z. Or where the heck is artist W?! We’re not even going to argue with you. Believe us, we wondered that too, and talked about them, and made hard choices, often against personal convictions.
Now, maybe that doesn’t impress you much. Maybe you, dear reader, believe there is a definitive, eternal, unimpeachable ranking of records that could be pulled from the ether with just the right methodology. Who knows, maybe you’re right. This isn’t that list.
This is a list compiled through hours of debate, frustration, laughter, acquiescence, and epiphany. It’s one that assessed the mercurial value attached to art, from perceptions at the moment of creation, to retrospective consideration, to the impact on ever-evolving fashions. It’s also one that allowed joy to be a factor of greatness.
So, go ahead, lob your criticisms. Voice your feelings about how your favorite artists were left off, or how we skipped over that iconic LP. We welcome it! And when the dust settles, the staff of Consequence will stand proud behind our list of the 100 greatest albums of all time. Until the next time.
— Ben Kaye
Editorial Director
Ed. note: Select blurbs from the original list held up; whenever they’re included here, they are denoted with (2010).
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100. Jane’s Addiction – Nothing’s Shocking
With 1988’s Nothing’s Shocking, Jane’s Addiction helped lay the foundation for what would eventually become the alternative rock revolution of the ‘90s. Equal parts heavy and ethereal, it’s fitting that the album contains song titles like “Up the Beach” and “Ocean Size,” as the tracks play like waves crashing into the sea. Perry Farrell’s celestial voice, along with the dynamic playing of guitarist Dave Navarro, bassist Eric Avery and drummer Stephen Perkins, makes Nothing’s Shocking a truly unique album.
Combining the power of Led Zeppelin with the art-rock of The Velvet Underground on tracks like the explosive “Mountain Song” with its magnificent bass line, or the acoustic “Jane’s Says” with its heart-wrenching lyrics, Nothing’s Shocking represents a defining moment in what was soon to be a seismic shift in rock music. — Spencer Kaufman
99. Kamasi Washington – Heaven and Earth
In 2015, saxophonist Kamasi Washington announced his arrival to mainstream audiences on Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly. Only months later, he cemented his place at the front of jazz’s vanguard with his equally expansive major label debut, The Epic, largely developed with his compatriots in Los Angeles’ West Coast Get Down jazz collective. But it was the follow-up, 2018’s Heaven & Earth, that more accurately reflects the heights he can reach from his ascended headspace.
Heaven & Earth evokes the grand scale of its title with an all-encompassing view of the past, present, and future of this world and beyond. Whether Washington is resurrecting the past with his take on Freddie Hubbard’s “Hub-Tones,” refurbishing the theme from the Bruce Lee film Fists of Fury with a modern context, or pushing jazz in a completely new direction on the dark groove jam “Street Fighter Mas,” he is constantly in conversation with a higher power; the divinity just varies from the Almighty to his all-star group of musician friends.
In regards to the growing presence of spirituality in his music, Consequence’s A-grade review asserted that “if more churches played songs like ‘Journey’ and ‘Will You Sing’ on Sundays, those sanctuaries might be standing room only.” — Bryan Kress
98. Lucinda Williams – Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
There have been no shortage of Lucinda Williams imitators over the years — artists hoping to nick even an ounce of her grit, grace, and gumption and make it their own. But there is only one Lucinda Williams, and on her 1998 Grammy-winning masterpiece Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, she demonstrates why she’s an unrivaled talent.
The Lake Charles, Louisiana native has a sprawling discography, kicking off in 1979 with Ramblin’ on My Mind and most recently with the acerbic Good Souls Better Angels, which makes selecting just one of her albums as the “best” a bit of a fool’s errand. However, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road stands out as a hallmark of hard-worn Americana, a Southern swirl of country, blues, folk, and rock ‘n’ roll.
It’s a riff-laden record with a laundry list of lyrics tailor-made for tattooing on your body, doubling as a roadmap to the soul of a complicated nation. Across 13 tracks, from the sexy “2 Kool 2 Be 4-Gotten” to the middle-fingers-up kiss-off of “Joy,” you learn a few things about the record’s central narrator, but there’s one lesson that stands out in particular: You don’t fuck with Lucinda Williams. If Williams is Americana’s poet laureate, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road is a high watermark of the form. — Spencer Dukoff
97. Fugazi – Repeater
While Repeater is considered Fugazi’s full-length debut, it had the daunting task of following the band’s legendary first two EPs (compiled together as 13 Songs). With Repeater, though, the D.C. band not only raised their own bar, but blew the entire hardcore punk genre wide open.
With a nod to the precision of post-punkers Gang of Four, Repeater is evidence of a band playing without restrictions. Fugazi never had to answer to suits when it came to the music they recorded, thanks to their entire discography being released via singer-guitarist Ian MacKaye’s own Dischord Records. Their chemistry is obvious, with MacKaye and Guy Picciotto trading vocals over dissonant chords, and bassist Joe Lally and drummer Brendan Canty providing a steady backbone. Those facts together affirm that the commercial success of Repeater is a byproduct of the artists themselves, not a label’s cash-grabby plan.
Featuring powerhouse anthems like “Turnover” and “Blueprint,” as well as standout cuts like the title track and “Sieve-Fisted Find,” Repeater is a seminal work by the ultimate DIY band. — S.K.
96. N.W.A. – Straight Outta Compton
Although they owe Schoolly D and the Park Side Killas some credit for pioneering gangsta rap, N.W.A. can proudly say that they brought this style of uber-catchy, ultra-violent hip-hop to the mainstream. Released in 1988, Straight Outta Compton featured what would eventually become some of the genre’s biggest names — Ice Cube, Eazy-E, Dr. Dre, and MC Ren — spinning tales of life in one of LA’s roughest neighborhoods over minimalist beats and scratching provided by DJ Yella and Arabian Prince.
Cuts like “Fuck Tha Police” and the title track came to epitomize the West Coast sound, and paved a road that led to rap music infiltrating every household in America. Even if you were from the most tranquil corners of suburbia, you tensed up, clenched your fists, and pretended you were ready for a fight when you listened to Ice Cube open the record by declaring, “When I’m called off/ I get a sawed off/ Squeeze the trigger/ And bodies are hauled off.” N.W.A. made you feel hard, even though you still had to turn the volume down when your mom was home. — Ray Roa (2010)
