About a month from now, I will be telling you about my most anticipated concert of the year when I see the return of the Bobby Lees at Manhattan’s historic Irving Plaza. At that time, I will fill you in on the backstory – how the band, though still quite young, was burned out and on the verge of collapse a few years ago when a well-known and wealthy fan offered support.
I’ll withhold the benefactor’s name for now as an inducement to come back (though we all know a two-second internet search would yield said name).
This arrangement sounds a bit like the days of yore, when artists – especially musicians – survived due to the largesse of one rich fan. That was centuries ago. These days, rock bands tend to need broader public support to make a living.
12 of the most divisive albums in rock history
And that probably explains the tension that every single artist experiences between providing the same safe product over and over again and stretching their wings and trying something new.
If it is too new, it risks alienating those fans. Every rock fan knows the story of Bob Dylan at Newport in 1965 – the origin story of this type of conflict in the rock and roll world. That template – an artist trying something new and pissing off all the critics and fans who had been core supporters – has been repeated too many times to count throughout rock history.
Here are a dozen prime examples.
We’ll divide this into tiers. Because there are some recurrent types in this particular niche. Five types – two or three entries in each. That should get us in the neighborhood of a dozen.
Second verse, same as the first
This is the most common culprit in the “divisive album” universe. A band scores a hit album. What do they do for an encore? Their management wants something that replicates the debut, only does it even better. But maybe the band has different ideas. And it is a proven fact that “different ideas” are the leading cause of divisiveness in the world today.
Paul’s Boutique by the Beastie Boys (1989)
There was so much turmoil surrounding the Beastie’s sophomore release that it’s a wonder they produced anything at all, let alone the album that most critics now agree was their best. Most of the trouble came from their fraught relationship with Def Jam. Their debut, Licensed to Ill, had been an overwhelming success, topping the US charts and yielding a top-ten single.
Paul’s Boutique did none of that. It was a commercial letdown. This riotous blend of hardcore rock and juvenile rapping that scored so big on the first album was replaced by denser samples and far more sophisticated lyrics.
Who knew the Beasties were capable of such things? It took a while for everyone to catch on to the very notion that they wanted to do more than drink Brass Monkey and party.
There were still classics like “Shake Your Rump” and the album’s one modest hit, “Hey Ladies.” But Pinkerton was initially seen as a step back from License to Ill. That is no longer the case.
Pinkerton by Weezer (1996)
Weezer was the dorky, cute alt-rock band we needed in the mid ‘90s. They could brighten grunge without losing the cool, outsider vibe. Their first album was a surprise college radio smash.
Then came Pinkerton, which may be a truer depiction of what college life was really like for guys like Rivers Cuomo. It was messy and loud and dark. The pain addressed in the Blue Album’s “Buddy Holly” and “Say It Ain’t So” was painted in day-glo.
On Pinkerton, it was raw and unsettling. “El Scorcho” crossed the line from dorky cute to dorky creep. You couldn’t sing along to “Tired of Sex,” and even if you could, who would want to? “The Good Life” had an old man's cane at its core. Hardly the stuff of pop gold.
Pinkerton did not produce a top ten Alt track – the only Weezer album before 2010 to fail on that account. It was the lowest-charting release amongst their first ten studio albums. And now, should you peruse a website like Louder.com or the pages of Reddit, you will find Pinkerton consistently ranked at or near the top of all Weezer releases.
Congratulations by MGMT (2010)
The shift from “Time to Pretend,” which opened MGMT’s debut album Oracular Spectacular in 2007, to “Congratulations,” the title track that closed their second album three years later, is cavernous.
“Time to Pretend” was full of hope and youthful buoyancy. “Congratulations” came from jaded veterans who had realized that the quality of their lives was wholly dependent on the volume of their ticket sales.
That could be a turn-off to fans looking for the bright modern pop of the debut. Still, Congratulations proved to grow with repeated listening. As it slowly separated from preconceptions, songs like “It’s Working” and “Song for Dan Treacy” proved to have their own pop grace. It may have been different from Oracular, but it was no less potent.
And you didn’t have to know who Brian Eno was to recognize the desperate propulsion of “Brian Eno,” a pretty good history of electronic pop music in just under four minutes. Unlike the two previous albums, Congratulations has not exactly grown into a consensus “best.”
But in retrospect, it was a pretty clear indication that there was more to this duo than simply making some music, making some money, and finding models for wives.
Don't look back in anger
This is an offshoot of the sophomore slump phenom. In this version, it is an artist breaking away from his very successful band and producing a solo album.
McCartney by Paul McCartney (1970)
It’s impossible to imagine what it must have felt like to be Paul McCartney (or John Lennon, for that matter) in 1970. The Beatles' final studio album, Let It Be, wasn’t even out yet, and here comes McCartney with a solo release. What must his many fans have expected?
Not the gentle, low-key self-titled debut. That’s for sure. It was seen as a massive letdown. George Harrison and Ringo Starr, perhaps needing to clear lower bars in the public’s imagination, scored much bigger hits. McCartney was negligible. Perhaps not bad, but just kind of dull compared to what the other lads were doing.
More than fifty years later, it is much easier to hear McCartney for what it was … a fine collection of pop songs from the greatest writer of pop melodies the rock era had. The simple blues of “That Would Be Something,” the simple beauty of “Junk,” the simple pop of “Teddy Boy.”
Are you sensing a theme here? Simple does not equal drab. And with well-above-average songs like “Every Night” and McCartney’s epic “Maybe I’m Amazed,” McCartney proved to have staying power well beyond those initial lukewarm reactions.
Listen Without Prejudice by George Michael (1990)
In a way, this is a sweet little encapsulation of the first two tiers. From one angle, it was a sophomore album, following Michael’s solo debut, Faith. And it was also an example of an artist going solo after scoring huge success with a band. That’s because Faith had all the trappings of a Wham! Album.
That may be anathema to Michael’s biggest fans, because, of course, there was a difference between Faith and Make It Big. “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” was not to be found on Faith. Still, it was on Listen Without Prejudice that George Michael really and truly put Wham! to rest.
And how the critics howled. Another rock pop star thinking he is too good for pop. Thinking he might have something to say beyond “everybody dance.” There was still smooth pop on the new album, including “Freedom! ’90,” but there were layers to the pop. “Praying for Time,” which sounds more like John Lennon than Lennon himself, proved to be a divisive single that has only grown over time.
“Heal the Pain” may strike some as pretentious, but it is also a lovely song about resilience. The album’s title may have made a political statement, but it was a plea to music fans as well: to listen without preconceptions.
It's only rock & roll but I like it
Sometimes a band just wants to rock out. That can be a problem if they are known for doing other things. The two albums in this tier come from opposite sides of the musical spectrum, but oddly, they came together right around the same time in the mid-1990s.
One Hot Minute by the Red Hot Chili Peppers (1995)
One Hot Minute was the Chili Peppers' rebound record. They were going through their first breakup with mercurial guitarist John Frusciante and feeling pressure from the success of 1991’s Blood Sugar Sex Magik. Frusciante had the rare gift of being able to tread the line between funk and pop that would come to full fruition when he returned for Californication in 1999.
But in the mid-‘90s, they had a darker attitude and the guitar of Dave Navarro. If that didn’t equate to the same pop success of the Frusciante years, the Jane’s Addiction guitarist still had a lot to offer. On “Warped” and “Coffee Shop,” the funksters deliver quality hard rock. There is diversity, with nods to their funk past and deeper, more introspective tracks, most of which feature a heavy, dark vibe.
And then there is “Aeroplane,” as good as anything they would produce regardless of the lineup. One Hot Minute is certainly not in contention for the best RHCP album, but it remains a quality slice of rock and roll.
Justus by the Monkees (1996)
The Chili Peppers were coming from the land of cool funk. The Monkees, in 1996, were coming from the world of forgotten pop. Three-quarters of the band had put out a tepid album in 1987 called Pool It! As on many of their successful ‘60’s releases, they sang over music supplied by session players, singing songs written mostly by others. It didn’t go well.
Perhaps with a bad taste in their mouth, the Monkees got together again in the mid-‘90s. This time, Mike Nesmith joined in, and the boys wrote and sang their own material. The result was far better than anything that could have been expected. “Circle Sky” rocks. “Never Enough” is a quality mid-tempo ballad. Mickey Dolenz’s “Regional Girl” is one of the best hard rock songs the band ever put out.
Their old fans were confused by the harder direction and didn’t respond well at first. But once again, time was kind, and once you rid yourself of the unreasonable expectation of a return to “I’m a Believer,” you can really enjoy Justus.
You can go your own way
Passion projects can be tricky. It is somewhat easier if it comes from a solo artist. (See Brandon Flowers – Thrasher). In a band setting, there are a whole host of other situationships to contend with.
Smiley Smile by the Beach Boys (1967)
It was bound to happen. Brian Wilson and Mike Love were not destined to play well together. The fact that they created as much seminal music as they did does not mean they saw that music through the same lens. Pet Sounds (1966) had been an acknowledged masterpiece, on a par with Sgt. Pepper.
To Love, that meant they had a license to print money by repeating the formula that had been so successful. To Brian Wilson, it meant Smile.
Smile was going to top even Pet Sounds. But Wilson simply couldn’t bring it to fruition back in the day. The bastard child that did come out was a weird collection of tunes called Smiley Smile. The modest, lo-fi effort really didn’t do what either Beach Boys leader wanted. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have plenty to enjoy.
The weirdness of the ode to “Vegetables,” the brooding madness of “Getting Hungry,” and the twin shot of high-end psychedelia – “Heroes and Villains” and “Good Vibrations” (which had been a single release previously, but got its first album release here) – all make Smiley Smile a quirky peek into the mind of a pop genius, hitting in fits and starts.
Wilson would eventually complete a version of Smile in 2005. You can listen to both and decide which you prefer.
Their Satanic Majesties Request by the Rolling Stones (1967)
When it came out, the Rolling Stones’ sixth studio album was seen as a sure sign that founder Brian Jones had lost the plot and would have to go. Jones was always the member of the band who was looking forward.
While Mick and Keith were perfecting their take on old-school R&B, Jones was trying weird instruments and shifting time signatures. The first track, “Sing This All Together,” did sound like Mick singing, but nothing else identified it as a Rolling Stones song.
“Citadel” begins in garage grunge but quickly morphs into more psychedelia. That was the pattern throughout. But once again, if you can separate the music from the expectation, you have plenty of quality songs, highlighted by one of the Stones' most exuberant singles, “She's a Rainbow.”
Jones was about to depart – sadly, both the band and this earth. And the Stones were about to enter their greatest period. The next album would open with “Sympathy for the Devil.” But you can still see a rainbow in 1967.
Just a perfect day
The final entries here come from the king of division. Lou Reed was among the greatest songwriters rock and roll has ever produced. But he didn't play well with others. After two groundbreaking albums with the Velvet Underground, he fired his co-conspirator, John Cale. A few years and albums later, he fired himself. And embarked on a tumultuous and highly productive solo career.
Berlin by Lou Reed (1973)
Excuse me - I wanted to hear more “Walk on the Wild Side.” Reed knew it. And he seemed to go out of his way to refuse his fans. Berlin, the follow-up to his breakthrough solo album Transformer, begins with a slow piano torch song called “Berlin.” Then we get the operatic “Lady Day,” and the virtually tuneless “Men of Good Fortune.”
The opening culminates with the first “Caroline Says.” Soon we’ll get the second “Caroline” song, among the most devastating stories ever told in rock and roll form … all with the eye of a cinema verite auteur. After that, there’s a song about a disturbed mother losing her children.
No one quite knew how to receive Berlin in 1973. Today, it is still hard to put it into a box. But even if you want to just tell Lou to chill out and take a walk on the wild side, there is no doubting this is a profound work that demands attention.
Metal Machine Music by Lou Reed (1975)
After Berlin, Lou gave the public a more “normal” album in Sally Can’t Dance. True, it featured a non-metaphorical song called “Kill Your Sons.” But still, it gave no hint about where Lou was headed next.
Metal Machine Music is either the most prophetic rock and roll album ever produced or the biggest “F U” given by a major recording artist to his fans and label. Actually, it is probably both.
One hour of tuneless droning. No songs, just noise. Almost everyone reviled it. And yet, it was laying the bedrock for everything from techno to industrial. I personally do not like this and rarely give it a re-listen. But I know people who put it on and zone out, finding solace in the noise in a way that Lou saw coming way before the rest of us.
Lulu by Lou Reed & Metallica (2011)
Here’s the thing: you have to forget whatever you may expect from a Metallica album to appreciate Lulu. You could expect weirdness from Lou by this point, but if you wanted “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” … sorry. That’s not what you get.
What you do get is a very interesting rock opera. The songs may go in odd directions, but this is not Metal Machine Music. They are indeed songs. And has been our theme throughout; if you are able to leave your preconceptions at the door, you can get a lot out of Lulu. “Pumping Blood” has a martial intensity, “Cheat on Me” has epic grandeur, and “Iced Honey” is just a quality rocker.
And should you disagree with any of that – I mean, really, “Cheat on Me”? – epic grandeur? – well, then I would just respond by saying you can’t have a divisive album if we are all going to agree on everything. Can you?
Add us as a preferred source on Google