100 essential 1990s albums, Part 3: from Aphex Twin to FSOL
My picks from 1992 include Arrested Development, Faith No More, Pavement, R.E.M. & Sugar.
1992
Change in my life came with A Level exams and acceptance of a place at university, deferred for a year to become fluent in German.
Meanwhile, musical trends embraced the peak of grunge, the rise of gangsta rap amid the L.A. riots and a splintering of dance music genres.
Through all the rapping and raving, change seemed to accelerate in 1992 even if elements in the UK’s island insularity fought bitterly against it.
Closer European integration via the Single Market and the Maastricht Treaty convulsed the UK Conservative government.
Yet it had won the General Election, albeit with a reduced majority, thanks to unequivocal backing from the Murdoch-owned newspapers
But a painful unravelling began with Black Wednesday, when it faced a brutal reckoning in the face of fierce financial market speculation.
This marked the beginning of the end for the Tories, even if it took another five years amid a succession of scandals alongside the rise of Britpop.
24. Aphex Twin — Selected Ambient Works 85–92
A dazzling set of ambient techno that introduced a more contemplative strand of electronica you didn’t need to dance to.
Enticing, hypnotic and eerie, each and every play unearths yet more aural gems: from the spacey Aegispolis to the Willy Wonka-sampling We Are The Music Makers.
25. Arrested Development — 3 Years, 5 Months & 2 Days In The Life Of…
An antidote to the rise of gangsta rap with a refreshing focus on wisdom and spirituality via singsong rapping.
Lead single Tennessee hit hard with its depiction of social injustice, while People Everyday and Mr. Wendal hit the big-time with their infectious messages of the enduring struggle for dignity and respect.
26. Faith No More — Angel Dust
A grotesque and bizarre take on heavy metal, thanks to creative input from lead singer Mike Patton for the first time.
Confusing and confounding? Sure, but there are ample rewards for those who want to buckle up for the nightmarish funfair ride.
27. Pavement — Slanted & Enchanted
The epitome of slacker indie rock, thanks to a loose feel that gives the songs their sloppy charm.
Scuzzy highlights like Summer Babe (Winter Version) and Zurich Is Stained pull you along for the ramshackle ride over all those bumps and bruised chords.
28. R.E.M. — Automatic For The People
Even more downbeat, yet more popular still than its best-selling predecessor, thanks to a succession of finely wrought songs.
It’s an album I played endlessly in the autumn of 1992 and still play every year, an experience that grows ever more profound over time.
Elegiac and empathic meditations suffuse this body of work, like Try Not To Breathe and Sweetness Follows, bleak yet steadfast in the face of mortality.
Rage against Republican politics flares in Drive and Ignoreland, while Everybody Hurts offers a beacon of hope amid gloom and helplessness.
Yet crucially there’s a chink of light allowing some goofy humour to shine through on The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite.
Elsewhere the mood turns opaque and mysterious, as on the bouzouki-flavoured Monty Got A Raw Deal or the 10cc-inspired Star Me Kitten.
And that final triptych, imbued so exquisitely with yearning, loss and melancholy, makes for one of the best closing runs on any album.
Throughout Michael Stipe’s vocals soar, pure and crystalline, whether over an undertone of mournful organ or masterful orchestral arrangements.
It’s an album that accepts the inexorable passage of time, and thus remains timeless, transcending contemporaneous production fads of lesser works.
(R.E.M. would try that soon enough on their grungy follow-up Monster, with decidedly mixed results.)
That’s why Automatic For The People resides in my heart, and I will treasure it until the end of my days, flowing along the river and into the ocean.
29. Sugar — Copper Blue
Former Hüsker Dü frontman Bob Mould hit the jackpot with his new band after two solo albums crept under the radar.
All killer and no filler, just spiky power-pop songs throbbing with the tart tang of heartbreak, like the enduring ache of If I Can’t Change Your Mind.
30. The Future Sound Of London — Accelerator
An eccentric and underrated album, full of wonky flourishes, pounding techno beats — and a legendary track for the ages.
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