REMEMBER that album you reckoned was the best you’d ever heard, but haven’t bothered playing for years? Here are some currently gathering dust on your CD rack.
The Joshua Tree, U2
Back in 1987 you had it on loop for weeks – which is part of the problem. If you ever have to listen to Where The Streets Have No Name again, you’ll scream. You also don’t want people to misinterpret your appreciation of this album to mean ’I love Bono’. Because you don’t. He’s a pretentious, orange-goggled twat.
Meat is Murder, The Smiths
Back in your student days the Smiths seemed able to read your thoughts. But you grew out of your vegetarian phase and it doesn’t feel right to listen to it now while munching on a chicken curry. Again, there was a problem with the singer turning into a dick. Was The National Front Disco a cautionary tune about far-right politics or just what Morrissey did one night?
Appetite for Destruction, Guns N’ Roses
You genuinely thought this was the greatest rock album of all time, and possibly that Axl Rose was the sexiest man alive. If that was true it’s definitely not now as his weight has ballooned and with that ridiculous hair he’s more like one of the Muppets. If the Muppets wrote songs that are uncomfortably misogynistic now.
Definitely Maybe, Oasis
It was the mid 90s, Britpop was in its pomp, and along came these Mancunian rebels to upset the applecart. Even losing the not-terribly-important battle for number one with Blur was cool. Then you realised they were even bigger twats in their own way. Tragically, they sound as edgy as Status Quo now, and no sane person wants to hear f**king Cigarettes & Alcohol yet again.
Music for The Jilted Generation, The Prodigy
Anarchic, cutting edge electro-punk – until you’re afflicted by age and you start to feel it’s an aggressive din which actually makes you quite stressed. With your responsible job and paying your bills on time you’ve become the type of person you always vowed to hate. That said, Keith Flint, rest his soul, never followed the herd and might have liked a bit of Acker Bilk.
Who Can You Trust?, Morcheeba
Trip-hop heaven back in 1996, when all you had to do was shut the curtains, light up a spliff and lose yourself amidst its waves of ambient, trancy overtures. Now you’re trying to get the kids to bed and you can’t waste half the night off your tits listening to music, even if Skye Edwards still has the sexiest come-to-bed voice on the planet. Sorry, Skye, but those socks need putting in the washing basket.
