The rules are as follows; ask the soon-to-be-sentient-and-vengeful algorithm for the top five albums released in a particular year, then proceed to lower the suggested sacred cows into the velociraptor paddock. And we begin, inevitably, in 1966, the dawn of the “album era”, the Year Zero of LPs usurping singles as the primary commercial and creative focus of the music industry. This was a time of relative optimism and unspoiled hippie idealism – unless, of course, you lived in North Vietnam, in which case Operation Rolling Thunder was busily obliterating much of your homeland, or if you were a “revisionist” member of the Chinese Communist Party about to be paraded through the streets by Mao’s Red Guards as part of the so-called “Cultural Revolution.” But in the West, at least, psychedelica was arriving, London was swinging, the Summer of Love was on the horizon, England won the World Cup, and everyone except Ken Dodd was shifting to 12-track “artistic statements” rather than sonic amphetamine pills for dim-witted, dance hall-disgracing teenyboppers. Anyway, who’s hungry?
5. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme by Simon & Garfunkel
Apparently not just the velociraptors, given Simon and Garfunkel’s perplexing decision to name their third studio album after a selection of casserole ingredients. It just so happens that I’m partial to melancholy, medieval folk music, especially when it’s been recorded by two neurotic Jewish boys from Greenwich Village. “Scarborough Fair” is eerily mournful; “Homeward Bound” agreeably exhausted; while “Dangling Conversation” and “For Emily” essentially invented chamber pop. That Dylan sendup hasn’t aged well, though.
Standout track: “Scarborough Fair/Canticle”
4. Blonde on Blonde by Bob Dylan
But maybe you prefer your folk music cynical, cantankerous, and weighed down with PhD-length “protest lyrics” sung by a nasal and verbose marten? If so, then Blonde on Blonde is the record for you. The best songs on this interminable double album cast Dylan in the role of snide and shifty romantic – “Visions of Johanna”, “One of Us Must Know”, and “I Want You.” But its “iconic status” is, of course, largely down to “how clever Bob was with words”, rather than melody, harmony, or any of those other trivialities that make music transcendent. Next.
Standout track: “Visions of Johanna”
3. Aftermath by The Rolling Stones
Fuck the algorithm; Aftermath is the best album of 1966. It was the Stones’ breakout record, the moment when their genre-defining model of ramshackle rock, droll English lyrics, and performative bacchanalian excess was first visited upon an unsuspecting world – all without ChatGPT tarting up any of Mick’s vocals. The nightmarish “Paint It Black” kicks things off, and the mood never threatens to lighten, from the mean-spirited “Under My Thumb” to the quirky rockabilly plane crash anthem “Flight 505.” Yes, the Beatles provided the blueprint, but the Stones painted it black and made it compelling.
Standout track: “Paint it Black”
2. Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys
Nothing recorded before or, arguably, after 1966 sounds like Pet Sounds. I’m not even sure how to describe it. Atmospheric chamber pop with a horn section, crafted with Moogs and Pro Tools before either were invented, plus lyrics that read like the diary of a troubled 12-year-old boy? That’ll do, I suppose, but despite the Beach Boys’ reputation as sunny Californian surf bums, Pet Sounds is an unsettling record; “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”, “God Only Knows”, and “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” are clearly the work of a musical visionary who nonetheless belonged in a padded cell.
Standout track: “God Only Knows”
1. Revolver by The Beatles
Yes, I can see why it’s number one; it’s arguably the very first album-as-artistic-project rather than mere singles collection; “Eleanor Rigby” is on there; “For No One” and “Got To Get You Into My Life” adeptly depict the exhilarating, tormenting yin-yang of young love; “Taxman” and “Dr. Robert” are the closest the Fab Four ever came to the scowling sarcasm of the Stones; and “Tomorrow Never Knows” is an exquisite slice of psychedelic nonsense. But for a supposedly GOATed album, Revolver contains a bit too much disposable granny music, most of which we can thank dear old Paul for, of course.
Standout track: “Eleanor Rigby”