I was fifteen years old when I read the Rolling Stone Top 500 Albums of All Time. Of course I'm going to be intrigued by the album at #387, the one with the two pretty, half-naked ladies. Intrigued, and scared, mostly. Everyone has those formative moments in their pubescence as far as witnessing the gender you attracted to in an exciting way. Seeing this album cover, and knowing nothing about it besides that the cover was really something to look at, was one of those moments for me. The image is burned into my brain.
It's kind of funny that's it taken me almost two decades to gather the courage to listen to the actual music. I really had no idea what to expect. I had heard the name "Roxy Music" in other contexts, enough that I knew that the godfather of this blog column, Brian Eno, was involved in some way. But that's it. Otherwise, it was just me at the end of 2021 being like "okay, I guess it's finally time to listen to the album with the two hot women on the cover this year." So here we are.
I don't know what to say about the music, except that maybe I'm just never going to love British art rock. Because that's what this is. Might even be one of the standard bearers of the genre. David Bowie comparisons have already been made, and y'all know that I'm pretty hit-or-miss with that guy. Consider me hit-or-miss with Roxy Music too. Though there are a few songs I connected with ("The Thrill of It All," "Casanova," a couple others), which is more than I can say about a band like XTC. Those guys were just boring. Roxy Music is interesting. But it's... I don't know, maybe it feels a bit emotionally detached? Is that a British thing?
Does it even fucking matter? I'm sure Bryan Ferry is a fucking legend, and I'm sure if I scoured some of their other albums (only some of which feature Brian Eno, but not this one), then I could find some other songs to add to a playlist or whatever the fuck. But that's not really why we're here, is it? We're just here because a fifteen-year-old Joe had a boner that remains to this day. Country Life's imprint will never fade.
I know it's gross to consider listening to music for these reasons, but I only speak the truth. Don't worry, I censored the album cover as it appears at the top of the blog post, because I live in constant fear that Blogger is going to shut down PoYB for some asinine reason, and I'd rather not take my chances at posting a picture of female nipples. If you too are a fifteen-year-old heterosexual male, then you can just go ahead and listen to this album, and see if any of the audio can top any of the visual as it's presented here. That's a big ask, I know.
Does it even fucking matter? I'm sure Bryan Ferry is a fucking legend, and I'm sure if I scoured some of their other albums (only some of which feature Brian Eno, but not this one), then I could find some other songs to add to a playlist or whatever the fuck. But that's not really why we're here, is it? We're just here because a fifteen-year-old Joe had a boner that remains to this day. Country Life's imprint will never fade.
I know it's gross to consider listening to music for these reasons, but I only speak the truth. Don't worry, I censored the album cover as it appears at the top of the blog post, because I live in constant fear that Blogger is going to shut down PoYB for some asinine reason, and I'd rather not take my chances at posting a picture of female nipples. If you too are a fifteen-year-old heterosexual male, then you can just go ahead and listen to this album, and see if any of the audio can top any of the visual as it's presented here. That's a big ask, I know.
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