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Joni Mitchell – Blue (1971)

With the back-to-back smashes Clouds and Ladies Of The Canyon, Joni Mitchell established herself as major force in pop music. Songs like Big Yellow Taxi and Woodstock combined wistful, lighter-than-air melodies with lyrics that held a mirror up to society. On 1971's Blue, Mitchell began to stare increasingly at her own reflection - the results make me wish she got out of the house more.

Raw, confessional songwriting can be spine-tingling - John Lennon's Plastic Ono Band album is a towering testament. But whereas Lennon showcased his therapy-borne insights with sturdy riffs and unshakable melodies, Mitchell, on meandering compositions like My Old Man and California, is all over the place and nowhere.

She has much to say but she spends too much time...not getting around to it. Her singing style, too, gets in the way; it isn't quite a melissma, but it's dangerously close - it's like a buckshot approach, one that leaves many holes but doesn't hit the target.

Maybe a good bottle of Cabernet would help me to appreciate Mitchell's intensity. On the other hand, it might just make me grab my copy of Clouds. (JB)

Pearl Jam – Ten (1991)

Lost in a wash of mediocrity, Ten is the poorest part of the grunge odyssey. The main reason for this is that Pearl Jam are really just a middle American bland rock band who are barely more credible than Hootie and The Blowfish.

As spicy as a natural yogurt, even the most potent cuts like Alive and Jeremy are basically the same song: single note riff, tales of 'real-world' woes that would make even Jon Bon Jovi wince.

They are so 'grunge' that when guitarist Mike McCready was asked what his thinking was behind the solo to Alive, he answered that he was trying to copy KISS guitarist Ace Frehley! KISS for heaven's sake!

While we're at it, where did they get off trying to make Neil Young responsible for their dullard opus? Just because the guy also wears checked shirts and a couple of the band like his songs, it doesn't make him the 'godfather of grunge'. Ozzy Osbourne is a massive fan of the Beatles, but Paul McCartney isn't the stepfather of metal is he? (JU)

Captain Beefheart And The Magic Band – Trout Mask Replica (1969)

First of all, let me just clarify two things: 1) I don't dislike Captain Beefheart - Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller) is an enjoyable album. And 2) I appreciate experimental music - I like John Cale and Philip Glass, see? But, for me, Trout Mask Replica is beyond comprehension.

My disdain for this record grows every time it graces a list in the music press. Most recently was Rolling Stone's 500 greatest albums of all time - there it is, that stupid trout-faced cover staring at me from the page, at number 56! Is it really better than Meet The Beatles (number 59) or Purple Rain (number 72)? No chance.

Trout Mask Replica is 28 tracks of rambling vocals, bagpipes, horns and guitars that sound like bagpipes. It's unlistenable and it won't impress your muso mates either – everyone owns it (including me) but no one ever listens to it. Fact. (TP)

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