Can you name the 10 albums that offended you the most? Here's a handful for me. I loved a few of these for their awfulness, but the rest just let me down.


1. "Scarlet Love" (Palmer Rockey): Around 1979, so the story goes, a mysterious and charismatic man showed up in the upwardly wealthy social circles of Dallas. He claimed he was Hollywood hotshot and that he was making a movie. Through artful mingling, he got more than a few of the well-to-do wives to act out a role or two for the project (as well as nudge their husbands to contribute some financial assistance). Needing a soundtrack, Mr. Rockey recorded this album with some anonymous pick-up studio musicians. A slapdash endeavor, it sounded like it took about a day to record, and trucked in all the muzak styles of the period—light funk, light rock n' roll, light country, light blue-eyed soul. Palmer crooned, badly and obliviously to the players behind him. At one point, he even cops Elvis' Shakespearean spiel about life-being-a-stage-and-we're- all-players-especially-you-&-me-babe. Sleaziness: Maximum!

btw: The movie was shown once at some local theater. All reports made it to be worst ever seen. Rocky made a quick exit, vanishing from Dallas forever. So the story goes.


2. "Tonight" (David Bowie) --This is the album that ended Bowie's 15 year run as someone whose latest album you needed to hear. Half the songs are Iggy Pop covers, and the remaining original songs fall apart from their own forced cleverness. Or at least they did for me. If there was a concept--something Bowie up until that time tags albums with better than just about any of his peers--it was lost on everybody. Even the title was undescriptive. This, just after "Let's Dance." How did things go so bad, so quickly? (See also: Stones: "Emotional Rescue")


3. "Live 93" (The Orb). The sound of the ecstasy wearing off. Even the whoops of enthusiasm from the audience sound soaked of weariness. To amuse the numbed attendees, the Orb race the sound of a motorcycle back and forth between the speakers. For 4 minutes, or maybe more. And though the Orb kept their beats to a minimum, this is a 2 CD(!) package.


4. "Midnight to Midnight" (Psychedelic Furs): It's like a friend, with whom you bonded in the fully-flaming glory of youth, suddenly assuming the role of a stereo salesman, 24/7.

5. "The Magician's Birthday" (Uriah Heep): Almost everyone has a theory about who the real band was that inspired "Spinal Tap." Uriah Heep is my vote. Having decided that their former epic "Demons & Wizards" might have been too highbrow (or frightening) to their intended audience (who was, my guess, the younger brothers of the stoner boys listening to Yes and Deep Purple), these Brits opted for crafting a 12 minute opus to a card-carrying trickster. Smell the leather. (See also: Emerson Lake & Palmer's "Brain Salad Surgery").

6. "Full Circle" (The Doors): As much as I wanted to believe at the age of 15 that the Doors really really really were more than just Jim Morrison's backing band, their first post-Mr.-Mojo-Rising album just couldn't sell the idea. But at least they were trying. This is the second post-Jimbo album! I suspect they were just hoping not to get sued by their record label. (See also: Mott's "Drive On," Billion Dollar Babies' "Battle Axe")

7."Saved" (Bob Dylan): Dylan has changed the course of my life. Twice, at least. But not with this album. At least, Dylan's first gospel album had fire and brimstone. I can't remember a single song from this. I think this was the bottom for him, and the power of having God on your side did not impress me, either.


8. "The Beauty of the Rain" (Dar Williams): Once there was a fairly-talented folk songstress who wrote witty, sharply-observed vignettes about the funny little moments that happen in life, you know those passing, off-hand events that later take on momentous heaps of emotional significance? She was great. But perhaps she saw more money in the alternative adult contemporary market (I think that's what they call the genre) and so started writing songs that play well on such radio stations—namely vague and meandering but lightly-soulful pop songs about clouds and your ambitions and all that.

9. "Bilious Paths" (M-Ziq): I love me some noise and found-audio-collage as much as the next pretentious music snob, but this Musique concrète (synthétique) offends me on so many levels, I'd actually prefer silence. (See also Lou Reed's "Metal Machine Music," anything by Aphex Twin, Throbbing Gristle, Negativland, Einstürzende Neubauten et al. O.k., Maybe I don't love noise that much)

10. "The Madcap Laughs" (Syd Barrett): Sitting a musician in front of live recorder before he or her has their mental shit fully-together is a deeply, deeply sadistic act. And Mr. Gilmour, no matter how many millions you made with Pink Floyd, this deception of your former (and illing) mate will always haunt you. Deeply, I hope.