Rain Slicked Wires and Rebel Choirs Under Stadium Lights
Best Of Pixies (Wave Of Mutilation) by Pixies 🌊
A reunion-era compilation with roots in the late 80s and early 90s 🎛️
Released in 2004 by 4AD, Best Of Pixies: Wave Of Mutilation arrived at a very smart moment. Pixies had reunited after more than a decade apart, and this set worked as both a welcome-back package and a fast-track introduction for listeners who knew the band more by reputation than by records. It was not a new studio album, but a carefully chosen compilation drawn from the band’s original run, mainly Come On Pilgrim, Surfer Rosa, Doolittle and Bossanova.
That matters, because the “creation” of this album really happened across several famous sessions. Steve Albini’s recording on Surfer Rosa gave the band that dry, abrasive snap, all live-wire drums and jagged guitars. Gil Norton’s work on Doolittle brought more polish without sanding away the weirdness. By 2004, 4AD could shape those recordings into a concise portrait of what made Pixies special. The title track even includes the “UK Surf” version of “Wave of Mutilation”, a lovely reminder that the band could recast their own material in strange new colours.
There was also a DVD edition with videos, live footage from 1988, and documentary material, very much a product of the early-2000s market when labels still treated deluxe physical releases as an event.
The sound: sweet melodies, nasty edges, and glorious oddness 🎸
What makes this compilation distinctive is how clearly it catches Pixies’ basic trick. They could move from a mutter to a scream in seconds, turn surf-rock lines into something haunted, and make pop hooks feel slightly unhinged. Black Francis wrote songs full of biblical references, sci-fi fragments, violence, lust and absurd humour, while Kim Deal’s bass and backing vocals gave the chaos a sly warmth.
Listen to “Where Is My Mind?”, “Gigantic”, “Debaser” or “Here Comes Your Man” and you hear a band pulling rock apart and putting it back together at odd angles. Punk energy is there, but so is melody, noise, pop, and a taste for the surreal. That loud-quiet-loud dynamic became one of the most copied ideas in alternative rock.
Reception, influence, and the 2000s music business shift 📀
Critics greeted Wave Of Mutilation as an ideal entry point, and that is exactly what it was. Long-time fans already had the albums, but newer listeners, many coming in during the reunion buzz, got a sharp, persuasive summary. Commercially, it did respectable business, helped by the tour and by the growing afterlife of songs like “Where Is My Mind?” in film and popular culture.
The digital turn helped it too. In the CD era, a best-of was a shop-shelf gateway. In the download and streaming era, it became a handy playlist before playlists took over. It let Pixies navigate a changing industry by turning their catalogue into something easy to approach in one sitting.
Millennial resonance and lasting legacy 🚀
Although these songs pre-date 9/11, they fit the mood of the early 2000s surprisingly well. Their alienation, fractured imagery, menace and black comedy suit an era that felt uneasy and dislocated. Nothing here is explicitly about that historical moment, yet the tension in the music still felt current.
More than anything, this compilation reminds you how much later rock owes Pixies. Nirvana took lessons from them. So did Radiohead, Weezer and a huge stretch of indie rock. Wave Of Mutilation captures a band that changed the rules by making weirdness catchy and making aggression feel artful. That is why it still pulls people in.
SLY LIVES! (Aka The Burden Of Black Genius) by Sly & The Family Stone 🎬
🎛️ How this album came together
Despite the title, SLY LIVES! (Aka The Burden Of Black Genius) is not a new studio set or a live LP. It is the 2025 original motion picture soundtrack to Questlove’s documentary on Sly Stone, issued digitally in February 2025, with CD and 2LP editions following in May. That matters, because the album was built as a narrative object as much as a listening experience.
The compilation was assembled by Jeff Mao and Joseph Patel, with Questlove and Rob Santos involved on the production side for Legacy Recordings. Rather than simply pulling together familiar singles, the team shaped it around the film’s argument about Sly Stone’s brilliance, public image and collapse under pressure. Roughly half the set includes rare or previously unreleased material, including alternate versions and fresh edits by Questlove and J.PERIOD made from the original multitracks. That gives the soundtrack a sense of discovery, even for listeners who know the hits backwards.
There is no obvious pandemic-origin story here in the way some recent records were made over Zoom. This project feels more archival than remote, driven by tape research, curation and film editing rather than lockdown-era collaboration.
🥁 The sound, the groove, the shock of it
What makes this music feel so alive now is how little it cares for neat genre borders. Sly & The Family Stone folded funk, soul, R&B, gospel, rock and psychedelic pop into one language, and this soundtrack reminds you how natural that blend sounded in their hands. In today’s terms, it feels startlingly modern.
The groove is central. Sly’s records often run on clipped drum patterns, rubbery bass lines, handclaps, chant-like vocals and riffs that hit with almost percussive force. The band could sound loose and ecstatic, then suddenly stark and tense. That push and pull became one of funk’s great lessons, repetition as hypnosis, but with enough rhythmic snap to keep everything moving.
📰 Reception and why people are returning to Sly
The soundtrack arrived alongside the documentary’s premiere after Sundance and fed into a wider reappraisal of Sly Stone’s catalogue. Reviews around the film and soundtrack have treated the project less as nostalgia and more as a fresh framing of a giant figure in American music. Commercially, this is not a chart-chasing release so much as a prestige archival one, aimed at listeners drawn in by the film and by the continuing revival of Sly’s work through reissues and live vault releases.
✊ Black genius, pressure and present-day meaning
The subtitle, The Burden Of Black Genius, gives away the emotional centre. This project connects Sly’s story to a current conversation about how Black artists are celebrated, consumed and asked to carry impossible expectations. His music once sounded utopian, interracial, mixed-gender, joyous, communal. Later work turned inward and darker, and that shift now feels less like a mystery than a warning.
That is why this soundtrack lands so well in 2025. It is about groove, yes, but also about cost. And in an era when genre lines are blurry and artists are still asked to be everything at once, Sly’s music feels very present indeed.
Live From the Los Angeles Sports Arena, April 26th, 1975 by Pink Floyd 🎸
🎙️ From legendary bootleg to official archive
This album has an unusual birth story. It was not taped by Pink Floyd’s own crew, but by the famed Los Angeles bootleg recorder Mike Millard, who captured the band at the Sports Arena on 26 April 1975 during the Wish You Were Here tour. Millard’s audience recordings were famous among collectors for their startling clarity, and this one became one of the great Pink Floyd bootlegs for a simple reason: there is no known professional live recording from the band’s 1975 tour that covers this material in full.
That makes this release far more than a curio. It is one of the best windows into a fascinating in-between moment, when The Dark Side of the Moon was still central to the set, Wish You Were Here material was fresh, and two songs that would later become Animals staples were still in rougher, earlier forms as “Raving and Drooling” and “You’ve Got to Be Crazy”. The official issue arrived decades later, with Steven Wilson restoring and remastering the tape for release after it surfaced in the Wish You Were Here 50 set.
🎹 A band caught in transition
Musically, this is Pink Floyd at their most expansive. You get the huge emotional sweep of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”, the sardonic bite of “Have a Cigar”, a full performance of The Dark Side of the Moon, and an “Echoes” encore that reaches back to their earlier, more exploratory side.
What makes it distinctive is how clearly it captures transition. The proto-Animals songs are leaner and less fixed than the studio versions that appeared in 1977. You can hear ideas still being shaped on stage. That sense of movement is one of the joys of this set. Pink Floyd were not simply reproducing records, they were testing scale, mood and structure in front of an arena crowd.
📻 1975, album rock, and the coming storm
In the mid-70s, album-oriented rock had become a major force on FM radio, and Pink Floyd were one of its defining bands. Their music suited long-form listening, side-long pieces and carefully built sequencing. This concert fits that world perfectly. It values immersion over immediacy and atmosphere over quick impact.
At the same time, punk was only a year or two away from changing the tone of British rock. Heard with hindsight, this recording feels like one of the grand late statements of prog’s arena age: ambitious, serious-minded and technically polished.
🛸 Technology, scale, and afterlife
Even as an audience tape, the recording says a lot about 70s concert sound. Pink Floyd’s live shows relied on large-scale PA systems, stereo effects, synthesisers, tape elements and careful dynamics. Those tools helped create the vast, cinematic feel that defines the performance. Wilson’s modern restoration does not erase the source, but it brings out depth and balance in a way that lets the band’s detail come through.
Reception to the official release has centred on its value as a historical document. Commercially, it is more of a collector’s item than a mainstream chart play, but its legacy is strong. For fans, it captures Pink Floyd at a peak, balancing compositional ambition with the tension of songs still becoming what they would be.
Teenage Drug by Sultans Of Ping F.C. 🎸
A second album made in the heat of the indie rush 🔥
Released in March 1994 on Rhythm King/Sony, Teenage Drug arrived when Sultans Of Ping F.C. had already built a reputation for chaotic live shows and gleefully daft pop-punk energy. The Cork band had broken through in the early 90s with Casual Sex in the Afternoon, and this follow-up landed during that strange moment when UK alternative music could briefly brush the charts without sanding off its rough edges.
Detailed studio documentation is a bit thin, which almost feels fitting for this band. What comes through more strongly is the spirit of the record: fast, scrappy, funny, and uninterested in sounding respectable. Even with a bigger label behind them, Teenage Drug keeps a lo-fi, knockabout character. That mattered in 1994. Plenty of guitar bands were being pushed towards either grunge seriousness or Britpop polish, and Sultans Of Ping F.C. preferred the messier route.
A nice footnote, too: the album later returned on reissue, including a 2021 Bandcamp vinyl edition, which says a lot about its cult afterlife.
Cartoon punk, indie hooks, and total cheek 😈
What makes Teenage Drug distinctive is how it treats punk as something silly, catchy and slightly unhinged rather than noble or tortured. Songs like “Teenage Drug”, “Teenage Punks”, “Wake Up And Scratch Me”, “Curse” and “Michiko” lean into speed, repetition, big choruses and a kind of knowingly juvenile humour.
That humour is the key. A lot of early 90s alternative rock was wrapped in angst, but Sultans Of Ping F.C. went another way. Their songs turn boredom, lust, confusion and teenage idiocy into something closer to a comic strip. There is bite in that approach. By refusing the solemn pose that rock often loves, they poke fun at the whole idea of authenticity.
You can hear links with UK indie-punk acts such as Carter USM, but the Sultans had their own Irish twist, less slick, more bratty, more ready to fall over itself for a laugh.
Reception, charts, and the cult factor 📻
Commercially, the album reached No. 54 on the UK Albums Chart. Respectable, though it did not quite repeat the impact of the debut. That feels about right for a band whose appeal depended so much on personality and live chaos.
Reviews at the time picked up on the record’s wit and swagger, even if the band never quite became household names. Their place in the decade is less about chart domination and more about representing one of alternative rock’s rowdier side streets.
Where it fits in the 90s 🍻
In the middle of the grunge boom, Teenage Drug felt like a refusal to brood. It shared punk’s volume and anti-authority streak, but sidestepped Seattle gloom in favour of absurdity and jumpy indie attack. That gave it a real DIY feel, even on a larger label.
More than anything, the album reminds you how varied 90s guitar music really was. Alternative rock was not one sound. It could be heavy, dreamy, cerebral, or, in this case, gloriously daft. Teenage Drug challenges rock convention simply by insisting that being funny, noisy and unserious can still hit hard.
The Best of The Pogues by The Pogues 🍀
A compilation released at a turning point 🎙️
Released in September 1991, The Best of The Pogues arrived just as the band’s classic first chapter was ending. It is a compilation rather than a new studio record, gathering key songs from Red Roses for Me, Rum Sodomy & the Lash, If I Should Fall from Grace with God, Peace and Love, and Hell’s Ditch. That timing matters. Shane MacGowan left the group in 1991, so this collection landed almost like a closing statement on the Pogues’ wild, battered, brilliant 1980s run.
Because it pulls from several albums, the “creation process” really begins in those original sessions. You hear the band’s growth from rough early recordings into richer, more confident work, especially on tracks connected to Elvis Costello’s production on Rum Sodomy & the Lash. Even as the sound became fuller, the Pogues never scrubbed away the ragged edges. That roughness is part of the point.
Punk drive, folk roots, and songs full of characters 🪗
What makes this album distinctive is how clearly it shows the Pogues’ recipe: Irish traditional music played with punk force. Accordion, tin whistle, banjo and acoustic strumming sit next to a pub-floor stomp and MacGowan’s torn-up voice. The result is neither a polite folk revival nor standard rock. It is music that feels old and reckless at the same time.
The songs are packed with storytelling. There are sailors, drunks, lovers, emigrants, losers, dreamers and ghosts of old cities. “Dirty Old Town” turns urban grime into romance. “A Pair of Brown Eyes” has the feel of a half-remembered tale told near closing time. “Fairytale of New York”, the best-known song here, wraps Christmas lights around heartbreak, immigrant longing and bitter wit. The Pogues had a rare knack for making traditional forms feel lived in rather than museum-kept.
How it landed in the early 1990s 📻
In 1991, British and American guitar music was moving towards alternative rock and grunge, but this compilation did not chase that sound. Instead, it almost ignored fashion. That gave it weight. While grunge pushed raw emotion and anti-polish values, the Pogues had already been doing their own version of that through folk instruments, pub choruses and songs about ordinary people in a mess.
That same spirit links them to the DIY and indie mindset. Even when signed to a major label, the band kept the feel of a gang making noise on its own terms. In a decade full of stylistic mixing, this collection made a strong case that acoustic tradition, punk attitude and literary songwriting could belong together.
Legacy: a doorway into an influential band 🌍
As an introduction, The Best of The Pogues is hard to beat. It helped fix the band’s reputation as one of the great folk-punk groups, and its song selection fed later waves of Celtic punk and alternative folk. You can hear their fingerprints on bands that mix roots music with bruised, rowdy energy.
More than anything, this compilation reminds you that the Pogues were never just “the boozy Irish band”. They had humour, history, sadness and real musical craft. That is why these songs still feel alive.
Drums and Wires by XTC 🥁🎸
⚙️ A band reshaped in the studio
Released in August 1979, Drums and Wires was the record where XTC properly snapped into focus. The big change came before recording even began. Keyboard player Barry Andrews left after Go 2, and guitarist Dave Gregory joined Andy Partridge, Colin Moulding and Terry Chambers. That switch mattered. XTC moved away from twitchy organ-led spikiness and towards a taut guitar sound that felt leaner, sharper and more physical.
The band rehearsed in fairly grim conditions, including a cellar and a ramshackle barn near Swindon, then recorded at The Town House in London with producer Steve Lillywhite and engineer Hugh Padgham. Both were ideal for this material. Lillywhite had a gift for making nervous, jagged bands sound huge without smoothing off the edges, and Padgham helped give the album its crisp attack. You can hear late-70s studio craft all over it, punchy drums, bright guitars, carefully separated parts, and a sense that every clatter has been placed for effect.
🎵 Wire-string guitars, motorik drive, art-school brains
The title tells you a lot. This is a record of percussion and strings, rhythm and tension. Terry Chambers’ drumming is central, steady but forceful, while Gregory’s playing adds shape and bite. Songs such as “Helicopter” and “Roads Girdle the Globe” have punk energy, but XTC were already moving past punk’s basic smash-and-grab method. Their music had more odd angles, more melodic turns, and a more sly sense of humour.
Andy Partridge brought nervous intensity and verbal wit, while Colin Moulding contributed some of the album’s most memorable melodic writing. “Making Plans for Nigel”, Moulding’s song about parental control and numb modern life, became the breakout hit. It sounds catchy on first listen, then unsettling once the lyric sinks in. That mix of pop pleasure and unease is part of what makes Drums and Wires such a great new-wave album.
📈 Reception, breakthrough, and late-70s context
This was XTC’s commercial breakthrough. Drums and Wires reached No. 34 in the UK, and “Making Plans for Nigel” climbed to No. 17. In the US, the album only scraped the lower end of the chart, but it gave the band a foothold there too. Critics at the time heard a group growing up fast, still restless, still odd, but now far more controlled.
In 1979, rock was splitting in several directions at once. Punk had kicked the doors open, album-oriented rock still filled arenas, and post-punk bands were busy pulling pop apart and rebuilding it. Drums and Wires fits right in that moment. It has punk’s speed, art school curiosity, and enough tunefulness to cross into radio territory.
🌍 Why it still matters
This album set the pattern for XTC’s best-known run in the 1980s. Without Drums and Wires, you do not really get Black Sea, English Settlement, or the later studio wizardry of Skylarking. It is the sound of a band learning how to turn nervous energy into design. That is why it still feels fresh, twitchy, smart, and very alive.
The Division Bell by Pink Floyd 🔔
Recording the album, from jam room to riverboat studio 🎛️
Released in 1994, The Division Bell grew out of a fairly loose, musician-first process. David Gilmour, Nick Mason and Richard Wright began by improvising at Britannia Row, building up dozens of fragments before sorting them into songs. That matters, because this album often feels less “written to a concept” than discovered through mood, texture and patient editing. From there, much of the work moved to Gilmour’s houseboat studio, Astoria, moored on the Thames, with Bob Ezrin co-producing and Andy Jackson engineering.
That setting gave the record some of its floating, spacious character. Sessions also took place at Olympic, Abbey Road and Metropolis, so this was no scrappy indie operation. Still, there was a hands-on spirit in the way the band shaped long jams into finished pieces. Richard Wright’s return as a meaningful creative presence changed the chemistry too. His keyboards and harmonic sense bring warmth that A Momentary Lapse of Reason sometimes lacked.
Sound, style and the album’s big idea 🌫️
Musically, The Division Bell is late-period Pink Floyd in full widescreen form: slow-burning guitar lines, glowing keyboards, roomy drums, saxophone, strings and lots of atmosphere. Gilmour’s guitar is the emotional centre, while Wright adds the dreamy chord colours that make tracks like “Marooned” and “Wearing the Inside Out” feel unmistakably Floyd.
The album circles around communication, or the failure of it. Polly Samson co-wrote many lyrics, and songs such as “Keep Talking”, “Lost for Words” and “High Hopes” keep returning to distance, silence and damaged relationships. It is not a rock opera in the mould of The Wall, but it has a clear conceptual thread. The compositional ambition lies in pacing and architecture: long introductions, careful dynamic rises, recurring moods, and arrangements that favour atmosphere over blunt hooks.
In the age of grunge, Floyd went their own way 🎸
By 1994, grunge, alternative rock, Britpop and dance music were pulling popular music in several directions at once. The Division Bell did not try to copy any of them. There is no lo-fi grime, no slacker irony, no attempt to sound younger than it is. Instead, Pink Floyd doubled down on craft, scale and sonic depth.
That made the album feel slightly out of step with the decade, but also oddly defiant. Where grunge often prized abrasion and immediacy, Floyd offered patience, polish and introspection. In that sense, the album’s “response” to the 1990s was simply to remain Pink Floyd.
Reception, success and what remains 📀
Reviews at the time were mixed to warm, though many heard it as a stronger and more coherent record than A Momentary Lapse of Reason. Commercially, it was huge, reaching number one in both the UK and the US. The accompanying tour became one of the biggest of the era and later fed into the live release Pulse.
Its legacy has grown quietly. The Division Bell is the final Pink Floyd studio album released during Richard Wright’s lifetime, and that gives it extra emotional weight. “High Hopes” in particular has become one of Gilmour-era Floyd’s defining songs, full of memory, regret and that unmistakable sense of distance Pink Floyd could summon better than almost anyone.
His ’n’ Hers by Pulp 🎭
🛠️ A long slog before the breakthrough
By the time His ’n’ Hers arrived in April 1994, Pulp had already spent well over a decade scrapping away on the margins. Jarvis Cocker had formed the band in Sheffield as a teenager, and those years of false starts, changing line-ups and near-misses matter here, because this album sounds like a group finally getting the room, money and confidence to make the record they had been aiming at all along. Cocker later described it as a huge sigh of relief.
The album was recorded between October 1993 and February 1994 at Britannania Row Studios in London, with Ed Buller producing. What changed was scale. Pulp could now afford richer arrangements, and they used that freedom well. Candida Doyle’s keyboards, including Farfisa organ, Fender Rhodes and Korg Trident, give the songs their woozy glamour, while Russell Senior’s violin adds a strange, bruised elegance. Nick Banks even used a fire extinguisher as percussion, which tells you something about Pulp’s habit of mixing polish with odd little bits of mischief.
🎹 Kitchen-sink pop with a dirty laugh
What makes His ’n’ Hers so distinctive is the way it joins indie rock, pop, glam and art-rock into something both sordid and stylish. This is Britpop, yes, but not the flag-waving version. Pulp were far more interested in bedrooms, rented flats, sexual awkwardness and social embarrassment than in cool poses.
Songs like “Do You Remember the First Time?” and “Babies” turn nosiness into an art form. Cocker writes like a novelist who has wandered into a nightclub and taken notes in the toilets. There is wit all over the record, but also discomfort, jealousy and class anxiety. The music often feels seductive, while the lyrics keep puncturing the fantasy. That tension is the point.
📈 Reception, chart success and the 1994 moment
The album reached No. 9 on the UK Albums Chart and gave Pulp their first proper commercial lift. It was nominated for the Mercury Prize, and singles such as “Lipgloss”, “Do You Remember the First Time?” and “Babies” pushed them into the Top 40 for the first time.
Its timing was perfect. In the same season that Britpop was taking shape, His ’n’ Hers offered an alternative to both American grunge misery and the more blokey side of British guitar music. Where grunge often turned inward and raw, Pulp turned outward, writing sharply observed little social dramas. The album met the decade’s musical variety head-on, taking bits of indie, pop sophistication and cabaret-style storytelling without sounding patched together.
🌟 Why it still matters
Its legacy lies in how it redefined what a rock band could talk about. Pulp made desire, awkwardness, class and voyeurism central subjects, and they did it without macho myth-making. There is a real indie spirit in that approach: after years in the wilderness, they kept faith with their oddness rather than sanding it down.
His ’n’ Hers set up Different Class, of course, but it is far more than a stepping stone. It is the sound of Pulp discovering that being gauche, funny, observant and a bit grubby could be every bit as powerful as being loud.
Sparkle in the Rain by Simple Minds 🌧️
🎛️ How Simple Minds rebuilt their sound
Released in February 1984, Sparkle in the Rain was the album where Simple Minds made a sharp turn from the shimmering dream-pop of New Gold Dream towards something harder, louder and more physical. Jim Kerr did not want a repeat of the previous record. Instead, the band pushed for a bigger sound, one that could fill theatres and, soon enough, arenas.
The writing began during breaks in touring, with early work at Old Chapel Studios in Lincolnshire in January 1983. After more sessions at Rockfield in Wales, the album was finished at the Townhouse in London later that year. Steve Lillywhite was brought in as producer, and that choice mattered. He had a gift for scale, punch and drama, and he helped turn the band’s elegant atmospherics into something more forceful.
“Waterfront” came from Derek Forbes’ bass idea and from Kerr’s thoughts about Glasgow’s docklands and shipbuilding history. That gives the album one of its recurring tensions, romance and grit living side by side.
⚡ The sound: post-punk muscle with art-school polish
What makes Sparkle in the Rain distinctive is the collision of styles. You can hear post-punk urgency, new-wave sheen, synth textures and a very arena-ready rock attack all in the same record. Mel Gaynor’s drumming is a huge part of that. The drums hit hard and drive the songs forward, while Michael MacNeil’s keyboards add mist, grandeur and a strange kind of beauty around the edges.
That balance gives the album its character. “Up on the Catwalk” and “Speed Your Love to Me” have pop immediacy, but they still feel slightly oblique and artful. “Book of Brilliant Things” and “East at Easter” keep one foot in the more poetic, inward-looking world that early Simple Minds fans loved. Even their cover of Lou Reed’s “Street Hassle” feels less like a crowd-pleasing move than an arty statement folded into a big 1984 rock album.
📺 Hits, charts and the MTV moment
This was the record that sent Simple Minds into the mainstream. It became their first UK number one album and later went double platinum there. “Waterfront” was the breakthrough single, with its chant-like hook and massive production, and it helped make the band far more visible outside their original cult audience.
The timing mattered. In the MTV age, Simple Minds looked and sounded ready for a more visual pop era, even if they were never as glossy as some of their peers. Their videos and image carried that moody, windswept, European seriousness that set them apart from lighter chart acts.
🌍 Why it still matters
Sparkle in the Rain is a fascinating hinge-point album. It connects the underground intelligence of post-punk and art-school pop with the scale of mid-80s mainstream rock. Some fans still prefer the softer glow of New Gold Dream, but this record has its own thrill: it catches a band testing how big they can become without giving up their sense of atmosphere and ambition.
Its legacy is easy to hear in how often “Waterfront” still turns up in discussions of Simple Minds at their most commanding. This was the sound of a band stepping out of cult status and into something much larger, while still sounding like themselves.
Top Artists (Week 17)
- Pink Floyd (27 plays)
- Pixies (23 plays)
- Sly & The Family Stone (21 plays)
- Sultans Of Ping F.C. (14 plays)
- The Pogues (14 plays)
- XTC (12 plays)
- Pulp (10 plays)
- Simple Minds (10 plays)
Top Albums (Week 17)
- Best Of Pixies (Wave Of Mutilation) by Pixies
- SLY LIVES! (Aka The Burden Of Black Genius) by Sly & The Family Stone
- Live From the Los Angeles Sports Arena, April 26th, 1975 by Pink Floyd
- Teenage Drug by Sultans Of Ping F.C.
- The Best of The Pogues by The Pogues
- Drums and Wires by XTC
- The Division Bell by Pink Floyd
- His ‘n’ Hers by Pulp
- Sparkle in the Rain by Simple Minds