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[\/et_pb_code][et_pb_text module_class=”article-title” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_font=”||||||||” header_text_align=”center” header_text_color=”#111111″ header_font_size=”68px” custom_margin=”40px||||false|false” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n
[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”intro-text” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_orientation=”center” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n
MOJO makes a fresh case for the most unloved albums by your favourite artists<\/p>\n
[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”credit-main” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”||||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_orientation=”center” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n
Words by Chris Catchpole<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/imago89496197-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Roger Taylor Brian May John Deacon and Freddie Mercury of Queen attend Queen Press Conference for” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Every major artist has at least one album that critics and fans routinely dismiss. Yet sometimes they\u2019re records we secretly cherish the most and, when judged strictly on their own merits, reveal themselves to have been badly wronged. To redress the balance, MOJO have made the case for some of the most unfairly snubbed and reviled albums ever. Have a read and listen with fresh ears and you might be pleasantly surprised\u2026<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 20. Frank Sinatra, <\/b>Cycles <\/b>(Reprise, 1968)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n With Tom Jones muscling onto his Vegas turf and Elvis reborn as a leather-clad rocker, Frank Sinatra was forced to react to the zeitgeist, tackling contemporary material by writers including Jimmy Webb, John Hartford and Joni Mitchell, whose long-haired connotations shocked fans and reviewers on release. But Cycles is much more than a desperate attempt to move with the times, with Sinatra\u2019s simple, emotional phrasing revealing a compelling moment of vulnerability (that August, he\u2019d divorced third wife Mia Farrow). Rain In My Heart resonates with the agony of presenting an unruffled public fa\u00e7ade. Webb\u2019s By The Time I Get To Phoenix \u2013 an epic of roaming freedom in other hands \u2013 turns to sadness and self-defeat, while on Mitchell\u2019s Both Sides Now we hear the macho Brat Packer of old searching for existential meaning. Cycles is often described as Sinatra\u2019s moment of weakness. That\u2019s true, but it\u2019s precisely what makes it great art.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/08\/BE.jpg.jpg” title_text=”BE.jpg” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 19. Jimi Hendrix, Band Of Gypsys <\/b>(Track\/Polydor, 1970)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Frustrated by success, disappointed at the world, Jimi Hendrix bowed out with a contract-filling live record – an awkward, tantalising coda to an explosive career which changed the face of music. It\u2019s unlikely Hendrix would have wanted Band Of Gypysy to be presented as his last will and testament (he died six months after its release), but backed by his old Army buddy Billy Cox and drummer Buddy Miles, its R&B-leaning mix was no less than Jimi\u2019s soul at 33rpm: stuck on a groove-thang (Who Knows), ferocious and politicised (Machine Gun), still flying his freak banner (Message Of Love). As any fan can attest, there are no shortages of crap live records out there attempting to make a quick buck out of the dearth of Hendrix studio material, but Band Of Gypsys aint one of them.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Who Knows<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-2.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-2″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 18. Wings, Wild Life <\/b>(Apple, 1971)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Written, rehearsed and recorded in double quick time (inspired by Bob Dylan\u2019s then working methods according to McCartney), such was the loose off-the-cuff nature of Wings\u2019 first album that Rolling Stone magazine wondered whether it was \u201cdeliberately second-rate\u201d. That both misses Wild Life\u2019s homely rustic charm and McCartney\u2019s smart pivot away from the pressures of having to follow up the greatest group of all time. The reggae-fied version of Mickey and Sylvia\u2019s Love Is Strange here is brilliant, Some People Never Know is as gorgeous and uncomplicated a love song as Macca has written, while the intriguing the tangle of material contained in the songs that close its two sides show that 18 months after messy disillusion of The Beatles, McCartney was back in love with the simple joys of making music.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Love Is Strange<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-3.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-3″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 17. John Lennon and Yoko Ono, Sometime In New York City <\/b>(Apple, 1972)\u00a0<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Perhaps unthinkable given the general modern-day consensus that all things Fabs are, well, fab, John Lennon\u2019s solo output featured its fair share of critical turkeys (cold and otherwise) at the time. Coming off the back of Imagine, Sometime In New York City was knee deep in right-on politics and \u2013 as the consensus at the time went \u2013 unforgivably short on songs. \u201cAnother crude, superficial look at trendy leftist politics…\u201d read one review, while the NME\u2019s Tony Tyler went as far as to pen the former Beatle an open letter titled: \u201cLennon, you\u2019re a pathetic, ageing revolutionary.\u201d For the record, John Lennon was 32 years old.<\/p>\n Listening back now though, and Sometime In New York City sounds tough and unapologetic. Opener Woman Is The Nigger Of The World smacks you in the face with both an aggressive manifesto and a lovely tune. Likewise, The Luck Of The Irish and John Sinclair, a whacked-out slide blues written in support of the MC5\u2019s manager, facing a ten year stretch for possession of marijuana. New York City, meanwhile, is a relentless steam train of a song that links Jerry Lee Lewis and Lou Reed. All we\u2019re saying, is give it a chance.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> New York City<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-4.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 16. Van Morrison, Hard Nose The Highway <\/b>(Warner Bros. 1973)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s he been doing?\u201d asked Charlie Gillett, in the September 1973 issue of Let It Rock, \u201cListening to Brahms?\u201d Dismissing the \u201cugly\u201d sleeve and riddling title (\u201cI give in!\u201d) Gillett hammered Morrison\u2019s seventh for its \u201cflabby\u201d lyrics, \u201cboring vocal[s]\u201d and \u201clack of\u2026 melodic focus\u201d. Others were less unkind, but coming off the back of a run as strong as Astral Weeks, Moondance, and Saint Dominic\u2019s Preview, Hard Nose The Highway was widely regarded as not up to snuff. Yet, unmoored from the past and floating in the pastoral prog dreamscapes of its Rob Springett-designed cover, it delights like few other Van Morrison LPs \u2013 bittersweet memories of teen romance (Warm Love), the Summer of Love (The Great Deception), and nights at Belfast picture-houses (Wild Children) unfolding like life reminiscences within an autumnal jazz setting.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Warm Love<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-5.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-5″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 15. Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Bluejeans & Moonbeams <\/b>(Mercury, 1974)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n True, a makeshift Magic Band back the Captain on this 1974 outing, but why on earth do some Beefheartians still think they were unable to cast spells of their own? The faithful may have cried betrayal, but Bluejeans & Moonbeams – his softest, slickest effort \u2013 still holds its own strange allure. With the Magic Band mutinied, session pros smoothed out Don Van Vliet\u2019s edges, draping his surreal croon in plush proto yacht-rock arrangements (the sublime Observatory Crest glides like a lost FM gem). Absent are the angular blues mutations of old, but in their place hangs a hazy, melancholic drift. A record peppered with moments of eerie, accidental beauty which both Kate Bush and Mercury Rev have declared an inspiration.<\/p>\n Best song:<\/strong> Observatory Crest<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-6.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-6″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 14. Curtis Mayfield, Got To Find A Way <\/b>(Buddah, 1974) [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n In many respects, with Got To Find A Way, Curtis was the victim of his own success. Much like Stevie Wonder (see number nine) he\u2019d put out a run with his first five solo LPs that were of a quality anyone would struggle to maintain. Less overtly socially conscious than Superfly perhaps, and more meditative than Back to the World, it\u2019s an overlooked gem than finds Curtis in a silkier, moodier space. Poignant ballads (So You Don\u2019t Love Me, A Prayer), guitars starring on syncopated funk cuts (Love Me (Right In The Pocket)), standout Cannot Find A Way asking questions about racial harmony and poverty yet to be answered \u2013 this alleged runt is actually a logical, satisfying bridge to 1975\u2019s There\u2019s No Place Like America Today.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Cannot Find A Way<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-7.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-7″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 13. The Rolling Stones, Black And Blue <\/b>(Rolling Stones Records, 1976)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n With punk looming, The Rolling Stones were facing irrelevance and while their 13th album matched its predecessor It\u2019s Only Rock \u2019n Roll\u2019s Number 2 chart position, the critical mauling it received seemed to confirm as much. However, while at the time Black And Blue might have felt like the Stones at their most directionless following the departure of Mick Taylor (Ronnie Wood was in situ by the record\u2019s completion), it\u2019s also them at their loosest. Jagger had spoken dismissively of \u201cthe typical Rolling Stones sound\u201d and aided by stand-ins Wood, Wayne Perkins and Canned Heat\u2019s Harvey Mandel, plus Billy Preston and Nicky Hopkins on keys, the record largely leans instead towards heavy funk and nocturnal R&B grooves. Without Taylor\u2019s melodically precise lines, Richards\u2019 intuitive riffing leads things along and his genuine appreciation of reggae means the likes of Cherry Oh Baby convincingly skank with an authenticity that – to the man – all of their contemporaries would fudge. Fool To Cry, meanwhile is one of the Stones greatest ballads. There was life in the Stones yet.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Fool To Cry<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-8.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-8″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 12. Can, Out Of Reach <\/b>(Harvest, 1978)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n When Can\u2019s ninth album was released in 1978, it sold respectably and even landed a positive review in the NME, but its creators quickly disowned it. Keyboardist Irmin Schmidt called it \u201cpathetic\u201d and \u201chysterical,\u201d and likened his playing to MOR cheeseball Richard Clayderman. True, Can\u2019s improvising super-chemistry had been disturbed by the departure of bassist\/tape editor Holger Czukay, but their capacity for unique creation was not so easily dispelled. Out Of Reach is unrestrained to the point of dissipation, drunkenly alighting on densely layered latin grooves and strutting disco, dropping in nursery rhymes, jamming experiments and even some swampy pop. Anyone who\u2019s braved Tago Mago and Monster Movie owes it to themselves to hear the gobsmacking Like Inobo God.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Like Inobo God<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-9.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-9″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 11.<\/b> The Beach Boys<\/strong>, L.A. (Light Album) <\/strong>(Brother, 1979)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n We now rightly think of The Beach Boys as makers of some of the most exquisitely beautiful music ever recorded. However, once their mid-60s wave had broken, the group tended to fall on the wrong side of the hip critical consensus, particularly in the US. Not ones to mince their words, Rolling Stone magazine deemed the band\u2019s 23rd album \u201cworse than awful\u201d. It\u2019s not. In fact, L.A. (Light Album) is filled with precisely the sort of sumptuous, soulful MOR that has since earned the likes of Surf\u2019s Up and Holland their statuses as overlooked classics. Carl and Dennis Wilson bring the huskily sung ballads (Full Sail, Baby Blue, Love Surrounds Me), while Brian\u2019s one co-write (Good Timin\u2019) is a gorgeous polished-up mid-\u201870s demo. A more craven bid to cash in on a current trend, perhaps, but in its full 11-minute version here the disco cribbing Here Comes The Night is an absolute banger, too.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Baby Blue<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-10.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-10″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 10. Led Zeppelin, In Through The Out Door <\/b>(Swan Song, 1979)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n With Jimmy Page and John Bonham self-destructing and Robert Plant reeling from the death of his five-year-old son, Karac, Led Zeppelin regrouped in disarray for a last stand largely led by the usually unassuming John Paul Jones. Shock result: an accessible variety pack of retro, world and synth-prog which laid out a lot of the ground Plant would later explore in his lauded solo career. In The Evening is a stomping riffzilla, Fool In The Rain a virtuoso, samba-flavoured highlight while All My Love mourned Karac with aching grandeur. Zeppelin\u2019s Abbey Road.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> In The Evening<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-11.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-11″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 9.<\/b> Stevie Wonder<\/strong>, Stevie Wonder\u2019s Journey Through \u201cThe Secret Life Of Plants\u201d<\/strong> (Tamla Motown, 1979)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Stevie Wonder followed six straight early \u201970s masterpieces with a three-year hiatus, a silence broken by this semi-instrumental soundtrack to a nature documentary which left fans cold. But Secret Life\u2026 captures Wonder at his most playful and unguarded, inspired by new technology (the first commercially-available sampling synthesiser) and the far-out messages of the movie, which filmmaker Michael Braun had to describe frame-by-frame to him. The instrumentals saw a lone Wonder indulge his wildest composer fantasies and while the horticultural theme running through the lyrics wears thin by the goofy \u2018plants-can-feel\u2019 title track, nine-minute proto-house banger Race Babbling spun a potent political metaphor. Wonder admits Secret Life \u2013 a favourite of his own albums \u2013 was \u201cexperimental\u2026 [I was] challenging myself.\u201d Certainly, he was never so adventurous again.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Power Flower<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-12.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-12″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 8. Neil Young, Trans <\/b>(Geffen, 1982)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n That Trans, along with the rockabilly pastiche of its follow-up Everybody\u2019s Rockin\u2019, led Geffen records to try and sue Neil Young for deliberately making \u201cnon-commercial\u201d and \u201cunrepresentative\u201d albums would suggest that champagne corks probably weren\u2019t popping when he delivered his heavily vocoder-ed, Kraftwerk-inspired 13th album. However, there\u2019s a fair-to-rocking album dispersed amid Trans\u2019 synthesized DNA and a knowledge of its background makes it resonate way beyond any \u2018standard\u2019 Neil Young record. In seeking to communicate with his cerebral palsy-stricken son Ben, who was unable to speak, Young mustered some of his greatest naive melodies and most personal lyrics. Rendering them practically unintelligible was just part of the program.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-13.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-13″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 7. Queen, Hot Space <\/b>(EMI, 1982)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n As had become customary by this point, Queen\u2019s tenth album sold in its millions, but band and fans soon declared Hot Space a gaffe. They\u2019re wrong: splurging electronic, needs-a-cold-shower funk and R&B on side one (the minimalist sex disco of Body Language is nuts) and tending to rock and balladry on side two: this was Queen\u2019s last great statement before cuddliness and age set in.<\/p>\n Brian May and Roger Taylor wrestled back more rockist control for 1984\u2019s The Works but the band would never surprise like this again. And really, can any record that features the vocal showboating of Bowie duet Under Pressure ever be considered a dud?<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Under Pressure<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-14.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-14″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 6. Pink Floyd, The Final Cut <\/b>(EMI, 1983) [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n An anti-war album borne of open attrition between a tyrannical Roger Waters and David Gilmour, Waters\u2019 final album in command of Pink Floyd is generally thought of an aberration among the band\u2019s canon – solely and vituperatively midwifed by a control freak having another of his turns. Yet Gilmour\u2019s antipathy towards what he saw as reheated offcuts from The Wall and reigned back input became The Final Cut\u2019s saving grace. Waters\u2019 simple yet wounded and questioning songs (it took him just two minutes to call-out \u2018Maggie\u2019 for the Falklands on opening track The Post War Dream) were rendered relatively unadorned by Floyd\u2019s previous standards and coloured raw crimson by the lingering fallout from his father\u2019s death in World War Two. Yes, it\u2019s bleak and embittered, but that\u2019s surely the point?<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> The Fletcher Memorial Home<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-15.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-15″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 5. Empire Burlesque, Bob Dylan <\/b>(Columbia, 1985)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n But his own admission, Dylan was cut adrift in the 1980s. Out of step and out of time amid the decade of oversized shoulder pads and gated snare sounds. Released in 1985, his 23rd album was smothered by hip hop pioneer Arthur Baker\u2019s electronic percussion and synth sheen, but under the synthetic gloop, Empire Burlesque reveals a return to form in both lyrics and execution. Ace rhythm section Sly and Robbie create a breezy skank for Tight Connection To My Heart (Has Anyone Seen My Love), while Seeing The Real You At Last is an acidic a put down as Idiot Wind. Even the haters can\u2019t deny acoustic closer Dark Eyes, a none more paired back number recorded at Baker\u2019s suggestion which both harked back to Dylan\u2019s Greenwich Village beginnings and pointed towards 1989\u2019s revelatory Oh Mercy.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Dark Eyes<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-16.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-16″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 4.<\/b> The Clash, Cut The Crap<\/strong> (Columbia, 1985)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Widely regarded as a total failure – not the least by Joe Strummer – The Clash\u2019s final album has been rigorously excluded from all Clash retrospectives ever since its 1985 release. Made without drummer Topper Headon or – more crucially \u2013 guitarist Mick Jones, the idea was to recapture the punk spirit of the previous decade (bolstered by new members Vince White, Nick Sheppard and Pete Howard, The Clash Mk2 had recently embarked on a \u2018busking tour\u2019 of Britain) while embracing the synthesisers and drum machines the 80s had to offer. While We Are The Clash\u2019s unconvincing terrace chant failed to upset the yuppified times, the slow-burning This Is England is one of the band\u2019s greatest ever songs: an emotional tour de force from Strummer that perfectly captured the deep unease and alienation which lay festering under the triumphalism of \u201980s Britain.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> This Is England<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-17.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-17″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 3.<\/b> David Bowie, Earthling<\/strong> (Virgin, 1997)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Though most of the \u201980s had left Bowie in an uncertain place, there were signs of resurgence in the art-funk of 1993\u2019s Black Tie White Noise and the cyber-noir concept Outside. But facing the future was what Bowie did best, and Earthling was just that, in spades. While jungle\u2019s raucous rhythms and shout-outs from tower block rooftops were touted as the new punk, and Goldie and friends already finessing it into a more broadly accessible form they\u2019d started calling drum\u2019n\u2019bass, Bowie was shaping his own take. Recorded in a fortnight, it\u2019s a brave and brilliant collage of samples, loops, 160bpm beats and trademark lyrical cut-ups (\u201cEnter Galactic, see me to be you,\u201d he sings on the wailing lead single Little Wonder, \u201cIt\u2019s all in the tablets, Sneezy Bhutan.\u201d) Critics sneered and most of his fan base were baffled, but Earthling is Bowie at his best, an experimental stand for individualism. The sound of mischief, freedom and unfettered fun, a Bowie for a new generation.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Little Wonder<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-18.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-18″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 2.<\/b> Paul Simon, Songs From The Capeman<\/strong> (Warner Brothers, 1997)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Who would have guessed that Paul Simon\u2019s controversial Broadway musical about a black-caped Puerto Rican teenage murderer would be such a spectacular flop (it lost $11m)? For whatever reason, it certainly wasn\u2019t the fault of the music itself. Not only does the enlightened mix of doo-wop, rock\u2019n\u2019roll, gospel and Latino stomp qualify as heroically ambitious, its poignant storytelling, diverse influences and urgent performance merits consideration alongside Simon\u2019s finest work, Graceland included. In today\u2019s climate of more daring musical theatre it would probably clear up.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/02\/500×500-000000-80-0-0-19.jpg” title_text=”500×500-000000-80-0-0-19″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n 1. Lou Reed, The Raven <\/b>(Sire, 2003)<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n Even in a world where Metal Machine Music\u2019s four sides of feedback were actually released, 2003\u2019s The Raven was dismissed as Lou Reed\u2019s worst indulgence. A two-hour rock opera inspired by the works of Edgar Allen Poe, it was certainly one of his most ambitious projects. Reed enlisted an eclectic cast – Willem Dafoe sneers and cackles through The Conqueror Worm, Laurie Anderson lends eerie poise to Call On Me, Bowie drops in for a rare duet on Hop Frog – for an audacious construction splattered with adult statements and jaw-dropping glory. Reed growling, ranting and contorting Poe\u2019s gothic visions into something which still sounds like little else.<\/p>\n Best track:<\/strong> Vanishing Act<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_divider][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" MOJO makes a fresh case for the most unloved albums by your favourite artists<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":2102,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2101","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mojo-presents"],"acf":[],"modified_by":"akindell","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2101","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2101"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2101\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2129,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2101\/revisions\/2129"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2102"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2101"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2101"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2101"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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