best british albums

I spent eight hours, twelve minutes and fifty-two seconds listening to ten British albums, from start to finish, without skipping a song. I was working through a top-ten list, and some of the albums brought back particular memories: moving to England, cycling to my first job and listening to my dad’s music.

There were records I knew well, others I only knew through a few songs, and one artist whose songs I couldn’t have named beforehand. Listening to the whole albums gave me surprises and a clear least favourite, but it also showed me how differently familiar music could land as I got older.

Adele took me back to moving to England

Adele’s 25 came tenth on the list, and it had a very particular place in my own history. November 2015 was when I moved to the UK. I hadn’t had a honeymoon period after moving; it was rough, and that album had been the soundtrack to that part of my life.

I’d almost forgotten how good it was. Listening again gave me chills, with Hello setting the pace right from the start. Usually there’s a song or two on an album that I want to skip, but I could happily listen to this one all the way through. I gave it ten out of ten.

Adele appeared again with 21, in third place. That brought back seeing her in Toronto with my sister, sitting high up in the nosebleed seats. I remembered being probably sixteen and sobbing when she sang Someone Like You, even though I hadn’t understood love, loss or heartbreak in the way I would later.

That was what I found so powerful about her. She’d made me feel emotions I couldn’t properly articulate at that age. Hearing those albums again, I understood why I wanted people who dismissed Adele to sit down with good headphones and actually listen.

Amy Winehouse sounded different with age

I hadn’t listened to much Amy Winehouse in a long time, so I put on my big headphones and lay on the couch for Back to Black. Her voice and the mixture of styles made it hard for me to believe I wasn’t listening to a much older record. It felt raw and vulnerable, with all those different sounds working together.

I’d known some of the songs when they were big hits, including Rehab on the radio, but I’d been about thirteen. I hadn’t really understood what I was hearing. Listening as an adult, the stories in the lyrics broke my heart in a way they hadn’t then. I thought the album deserved its place on the list.

Pink Floyd brought back my first job

The Dark Side of the Moon was another album I knew but hadn’t heard in years. I remembered being sixteen, cycling to my first job at the local library with my iPod and listening to Money. There had been songs on the album that I skipped then because they didn’t fit with me.

This time, I sat on the couch and listened properly. The scale of it felt huge, almost like being in outer space, while little details such as breathing and footsteps rewarded paying attention. I had such a good time that it felt like hearing it for the first time.

I was looking back at that sixteen-year-old version of myself while approaching thirty. The passing of time in the music hit me particularly hard. It was one of the clearest examples of how age and experience had changed my reaction to an album, and I was surprised it wasn’t higher than fifth on the list.

Enjoying a list didn’t mean agreeing with everything

There were discoveries too. I knew some Fleetwood Mac songs but had never sat down with the whole of Rumours, and I loved it. Oasis’s What’s the Story Morning Glory also gave me songs I’d forgotten and others I’d never heard. I enjoyed it much more than I’d expected, even though I thought some of the songs sounded alike.

Brothers in Arms by Dire Straits went the other way. I started without being able to name a song, then recognised some as I listened. The title track was incredible and heartbreaking, but the album as a whole didn’t click with me. I wanted to skip it and didn’t. It was my least favourite of the ten.

Queen was my dad’s music

Queen’s Greatest Hits was number one, and I’d grown up knowing the words because my dad had played Queen for me since I was a baby. I put my headphones on and went for a walk, intending to listen to the whole album. Within about thirty seconds, I started crying.

My dad had died a few years earlier, and I realised I’d been subconsciously avoiding his music. I was in a local park, trying to keep myself together during Bohemian Rhapsody. By Fat Bottomed Girls, I was actively crying, with tears streaming down my face while still knowing all the words.

It was difficult, embarrassing and sad, but I also found it therapeutic. I loved the talent and variety on that record, and I thought it deserved the top spot. It was my dad’s favourite album too. I didn’t think there was anything else to say.

Watch my reactions to the ten albums.