Robert Dimery (ed.)

Sydney: Quintet Publishing Limited (2005)

Reviewed by Dean Biron

In his seminal essay "What was postmodernism,"[i] John Frow identifies the concept of the list as characteristic of attempts to both quantify and authenticate contemporary culture. And nowhere has "listology" been taken closer to heart than in the world of music. 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die is the latest (surely biggest) example of this phenomenon. Unfortunately, it is by no means the best.

The book consists of 1001 reviews, written by some 90 "leading international critics," covering the years 1955 through 2005. It follows on from the informative, mostly erudite filmic version of the series (edited by Steven Schneider), which achieved what surely must be the primary goal of any such tome – it made me want to seek out and view (or re-view) many of the movies described therein. The musical edition, for numerous reasons, disappoints in this regard, and to explain why there is thankfully little need to revert to quibbles over the albums included: the only thing more boring than greatest-ever lists is the boring complaints of those whose favourite band failed to make the cut.

Why, for example, does this ostensibly rock/pop discussion involve the usual handful of suspects from the jazz world? (For instance, John Coltrane is included, but only the ubiquitous A Love Supreme. Token nods to important artists like Coltrane are an annoying feature of many of these undertakings.) Why employ the annoying device of having the reviewer use arrows to highlight the "key" tracks? (These often turn out to be the singles from the album, thus defeating the whole purpose of the enterprise.) And why do so many reviewers revert to the kind of bland, clichéd summaries that haunt contemporary music criticism in most other contexts? (If I see one more person describe an artist's second album as their "sophomore effort," I will do something drastic.)

The very idea of yet another post-millennial inventory demands the publishers come up with something new for list-tragics to digest. To this end, 1001 Albums does avoid two of the genre's most common tripwires: it is up-to-date (the 90s and 00s feature prominently) and the records are quantified chronologically, not numerically (so Astral Weeks or Revolver don't peer down like unofficial deities from the top of the pile). Yet there is something mind-numbingly familiar about it all. We already know – because every review of Funkadelic's Maggot Brain ever written says so – that George Clinton told guitarist Eddie Hazel to "play like his mother had just died;" we already know that Nirvana's Nevermind was a shock chart-topper. There is little in the way of new angles here, and precious little in the way of inspirational prose (although the foreword, by Triple J's Richard Kingsmill, is pleasingly sincere).

Finally, some general comments on selection criteria are necessary. No matter how hard 1001 Albums tries to be all-encompassing, it very much betrays its British origins. The book loses authority as a result, a limitation that manifests itself in a general way although specific cases could be cited. (To avoid engaging in one of those aforementioned boring debates, I merely note that Australia's Go-Betweens have one entry whilst Dexy's Midnight Runners have 3 and leave readers to reach their own conclusion.) And somebody, presumably the editor, has a frightening predilection for prog-rock dinosaurs (Rush, Yes, Emerson Lake and Palmer) giving that genre a prominence it has scarcely earned. Whilst there is useful information to be found in the 900-plus pages here, these and other mysterious editorial penchants need to be taken into consideration. Otherwise, readers might take the title too literally and waste valuable time prior to their demise tracking down an A-ha record.

Music is an art of infinite grace and a subject of infinite fascination, but 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die is another largely futile attempt to nail down contemporary music like a butterfly under glass. Sadly, the butterfly always dies as a result. Here's hoping that someone comes up with a more original approach to postmodern canonisation next time.

Music Forum Vol 12 No 2