Swedishpagan metal titans Grand Magus have been around for over two decades with the Swedish trio notching 9 albums and countless tours to a passionate, dedicated core of fans. Never quite reaching the dizzying heights of Amon Amarth, Grand Magus have nonetheless forged a terrific, respectable career underscored by album after album of genre-bending songs that straddle folk, doom and stoner metal with a hard rock edge that makes them accessible to more sedate listeners.
The riffs were more developed than the previous album and they were all very consistent in style and quality, if not memorable. Many of the songs would sound better live with the energetic, high quality performances that the band always deliver.
The signature sound was nearly there, the strong 'Kingslayer' leading the way and the feeling that a breakthrough was not far away as their style, songwriting and cohesion grew stronger than ever before. Close but not quite there yet, though enjoyable.
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Whether you're a country fan or a pop music enthusiast, Twain's decades-spanning discography has something for you. To mark the release of Queen of Me, CBC Music looked back at Twain's impressive career and reflected on all the releases the singer has put out so far. Below, we've ranked Twain's albums from worst to best.
Twain's 1993 self-titled debut is one full of promise. It didn't land with the fanfare or commercial success of her subsequent albums, The Woman in Me and Come on Over, but it undoubtedly included glimpses of what was to come. Shania Twain was a mostly enjoyable riff on country standards that eventually went double platinum in Canada and platinum in the U.S. in 1999, as the popularity of later albums stirred up interest in her back catalogue.
Expectations couldn't have been higher for Twain after the mega-success of her 1997 album, Come on Over. The late-'90s cemented Twain as one of the world's biggest pop stars, and while country still formed the backbone of her hits, 2002's Up! unquestionably capitalized on her superstar status to build bigger, stadium-worthy anthems. That's best reflected on the album's first two singles, "I'm Gonna Getcha Good" and "Up!," the former a stomping number that wraps Twain's country twang in glossy, millennium pop production, while the latter title track is a cheery, optimistic jam to sing along to. (Twain's then-husband, Mutt Lange, returned to produce the entire album.)
While some critics complained about its generic songwriting, Up!'s universality showed the world Twain's ambitions to continue raising her mainstream platform. And even though Up! never surpassed Come on Over in sales, it did extend her reign on the charts, earning Twain her third diamond album in a row in the U.S.; in Canada, the album was certified diamond just 17 days after its release. Two months later, Twain was dominating one of North America's biggest stages: the Super Bowl halftime show alongside No Doubt and Sting.
Half of The Woman in Me's singles hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100: "Any Man of Mine," "(If You're Not in it for Love) I'm Outta Here," "You Win my Love" and "No one Needs to Know" (which also found a home on the soundtrack for the 1996 film Twister). The (slightly clichd) laundry list of things that a man needs to be or do on "Any Man of Mine'' further introduced fans to Twain's brand of feminism, a line in the sand drawn by a woman who had been pushed around in a misogynistic industry since she was a kid. The singer detailed her perspective in her 2022 documentary, Not Just a Girl: "I was always very bold and straightforward about what I thought and my point of view on things as a woman particularly. My point of view in relationships, the way I felt that women should be treated, respected, and I still feel the same way." Paired with the sassiness of "Any Man of Mine" and "Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?" were Twain's more vulnerable ballads, including "Home Ain't Where his Heart is (Anymore)" and "Leaving is the Only Way Out," proving that this woman who could clearly kick up dust on the dance floor had incredible range to offer.
If you're Shania Twain and it is 1997, the journey between homespun honkey-tonker and high priestess of country-pop can sometimes be travelled in the thrust of a hip or the heroic toss of a lush head of hair. That duality, and the fearless and unabashed ways in which she negotiated and crafted paths between the two, laid the foundation for the defining record of Twain's career: Come on Over.
The album's title tells us what we need to know before we even press play. Come on Over is an invitation that reads as both folksy and wholesome but also as a dare, a subversive temptation to the other side. With tracks like the raucous instant classics "Man! I Feel Like a Woman!" and "That Don't Impress Me Much," as well as the traditional gender role-reversal tunes "Don't Be Stupid (You Know I Love You) and "Honey I'm Home", Twain follows in the path of Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette and many of country music's rebellious and most successful solo women artists. On Come on Over, Twain is crafting and performing songs that articulate the power, importance and autonomy of women in a world (and genre) where white straight men are still gatekeepers. She's also making room for the liberating joy of love ("You're Still the One" and "Love Gets Me Every Time"), consent ("If You Want to Touch Her, Ask!") and the lonely devastation of gendered violence ("Black Eyes, Blue Tears").
There's simply no musician this side of Miles, Bowie and Madonna who took larger swings with their art. When Neil Young's music connects, it's exceptionally honest, vulnerable and powerful. But when he misses, it's still a spectacle.
Nothing says "I've got nothing left to offer" like going country. Even guests Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson couldn't save Young's brazen attempt to pander to the countrypolitan movement. Pitched to Geffen as Harvest II, Young's 17th LP sounds more like an over-the-top parody of that era.
One of only two completely irredeemable albums in his catalog. After a puzzling stretch that prompted Geffen to sue Young for making "unrepresentative albums," he attempted to return to the electric guitar with this set of plastic, stiff and dated synth-addled slogs.
By the time he recorded his second LP for Geffen, the label was already asking for a "rock" album. Young's response was to create an entire recording purely out of spite. The 25-minute doo-wop- and rockabilly-themed release is way more interesting in theory than it is on wax.
Despite the fact that it includes the much-maligned 9/11 anthem, "Let's Roll," Young's 27th LP is not a complete misstep, even if it's his weakest of the 2000s. This faux-soul album's greatest flaw lies in Neil's failure to get the most out of his backing band, Stax legends Booker T. & the M.G.'s.
Young's 38th is practically a concept album examining the perils of corporate greed. Teaming up with Willie Nelson's sons, Lukas and Micah, Neil overstuffs these primitive arrangements with lyrics chosen to deliver his righteous message. Unfortunately, there's little concern for structure or melody.
The first album since his debut not to chart on the Canadian Billboard list, this Neil-plus-orchestra project failed to connect with audiences and critics. With over-the-top love songs for new partner Daryl Hannah mixed into his standard political fare, Young too often comes off like a crooner without the croon.
The 2000s stand as Young's second-weakest decade. Much like his infamous 1980s, Neil was again searching for an identity. Written at the same time as Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's anemic Looking Forward, this mostly acoustic affair is amiable, but often swirls around the same themes and patterns.
Matching a decade as strong as Young's 1970s would be a near-impossible feat for any musician. Nonetheless, the drop-off here was dramatic. Busy tending to Ben, his son born with cerebral palsy, the unfinished and scattershot nature of his rootsy 12th LP is understandable.
Although the addition of Crazy Horse makes this gritty and punk(ish) recording an upgrade over Hawks & Doves, it's still half-baked. However, this would be his last LP before signing his infamous five-album deal with Geffen, so it mostly goes downhill from here.
Standout track: Neil comes clean on his disastrous five-album Geffen deal ("They try to change us and ruin our band / That's why we don't wanna be good") on the supremely noisy "Prisoners of Rock 'n' Roll."
Young's ode to his LincVolt electric car is straight-up goofy. But it's goofy in that charmingly nave and earnest way Neil can often be. Somehow, Young manages to make these songs about gas prices, the stock market and his mechanic sound nearly important and certainly beautiful.
Standout track: Young has spent the last 15 years railing about our failure to protect the planet, but he's often done it in remarkably optimistic ways, one of the best examples being the gentle "Light a Candle."
As assumed, Young's initial album after the election of Donald Trump is bursting with vitriol. His second and most recent studio recording with Lukas and Micah shows Young's newfound love for uncommon instrumentation, as his songs move in different directions thanks to mandolin and glockenspiel.
There's a misconception that Young's foray into techno was his nadir. The truth is, this vocoder and Synclavier-based LP was originally celebrated and stands as one of the best from his 1980s output. His label may have hated it, but Rolling Stone and The Village Voice begged to differ.
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