The RS 500 was assembled by the editors of Rolling Stone, based on the results of two extensive polls. In 2003, Rolling Stone asked a panel of 271 artists, producers, industry executives and journalists to pick the greatest albums of all time. In 2009, we asked a similar group of 100 experts to pick the best albums of the 2000s. From those results, Rolling Stone created this new list of the greatest albums of all time.
Bon Scott was a bourbon-swilling force of nature, and by AC/DC's fourth LP, he and guitarist Angus Young had become a one-two punch with killer songs (like the bulldozing title track) to match. Scott's wicked ways caught up with him, however: He was dead six months after Highway hit shelves.
The debut from these mod ragamuffins was a blast of guitar-combo racket that made New York's shadows sound vicious and exciting again. Is This It mixed Velvet Underground grime and skinny-tie New Wave jangle with Julian Casablancas' Lower East Side dispatches – sometimes acidic, always full of great melody.
This Muddy Waters sideman attacked the harmonica with the authority of the bop sax players he loved, bringing a dynamic new sound to Chicago blues. In 1952, his own "Juke" topped the R&B charts. But he had no control of his personal life; he died at 37 after being injured in a street fight.
The founding document of alternative rock, released just as Gen X was heading off to college. Though “technically limited,” according to co-producer Don Dixon, R.E.M. packed their songs with cathartic mystery. Peter Buck’s guitar chimes and Michael Stipe unspools his low-talker lyrics like they constitute a new language.
This 27-song collection of short, fun brutally simple Sixties garage rock, compiled by critic Lenny Kaye, was proto-punk manna in the prog-clogged Seventies.
Ex-Yardbird Eric Clapton's solos here inspired his "Clapton Is God" cult. The band expertly covers Robert Johnson and Freddie King, and blows up Ray Charles' "What'd I Say" with a long drum solo that predicts Cream.
David Bowie counted the former Velvet Underground leader as a major inspiration – and paid Reed back by producing his biggest album. Transformer had glam flash courtesy of guitarist Mick Ronson, and "Walk on the Wild Side" brought drag queens and hustlers into the Top 20.
The album that jump-started the Nineties punk-pop revival. Singer-guitarist Billie Joe Armstrong boiled suburban boredom into airtight, three-minute shots like "Welcome to Paradise," "Basket Case" and the infectious smash "Longview" – which Armstrong described as "cheap self-therapy from watching too much TV."
A hugely influential country-rock statement – concocted by ex-Byrds Gram Parsons and Chris Hillman – of L.A. hillbilly anthems, God-fearing hippie soul and achingly beautiful two-part harmonies.
With garage-savvy ex-Kingsmen keyboardist Don Gallucci producing their second album, the Stooges' relentless "troglodyte groove" was allowed to run psychotically rampant. "I stick it deep inside," Iggy Pop growls on "Loose." And the punk torpedoes like "T.V. Eye" make good on that promise.
RCA Victor, 1969
"I had to leave town for a little while," Presley sings in the first track. This record announced he was back. With a crack crew of Memphis musicians, Presley masterfully tackles country, gospel, soul, pop and – on "In the Ghetto" – message songs.
The definitive live recording of the late-Sixties ballroom experience: This San Francisco acid-blues band's second album captures its twin guitarists in bright flight, and composed intricacies like the studio epic "Calvary" prove that psychedelia was about more than just tripping out.
Their second record has masterful L.A. folk rock from Stephen Stills, pioneering country rock from Richie Furay and two Neil Young gems: the raw "Mr. Soul" and the suitelike "Broken Arrow."
Gabriel got funky on the 1982 single "Shock the Monkey." It took him four years to follow up, but So delivered with the visceral "Sledgehammer," the upbeat "Big Time," the gothic love ballad "In Your Eyes" and the inspirational "Don't Give Up," a duet with Brit art thrush Kate Bush.
As the Seventies unfurled, Stone became progressively dissolute. But he had one more ace up his sleeve: the intoxicating "If You Want Me to Stay," surrounded here by idiosyncratic gestures like a ragged take on Doris Day's "Que Sera, Sera."
Fueled by "a little marijuana and a lotta alienation," Michigan's Stooges savagely gave the lie to hippie idealism. Ex-Velvet Underground member John Cale produced a primitive debut wherein Iggy Stooge (né James Osterberg) snarled seminal punk classics such as "I Wanna Be Your Dog," "No Fun" and "1969."
Sire/Warner Bros., 1990
A perfect Madonna CD: You get timeless pop such as "Holiday," provocations like "Papa Don't Preach," dance classics like "Into the Groove" and a then-new Lenny Kravitz-produced sex jam, "Justify My Love," which samples Public Enemy.
This trailblazing concept album became one of Nelson's biggest hits – a lyrically ambitious, musically stripped-down, riveting and heartfelt tale of murder and infidelity.
Mick Fleetwood, John McVie and his missis Christine's first album with California couple Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks generated big radio songs such as "Say You Love Me" and "Rhiannon" and patterned the rich harmonies and sheer melodies they'd perfect on Rumours.
The first Wailers album to give Marley top billing was multifaceted rebel music – from the call-to-arms opening, "Lively Up Yourself" (about dancing or revolution or both), to the gospel-flavored "No Woman, No Cry," an anthem of struggle and hope.
A charming exuberance pervades the Stones' third U.S. release, with its hot-rod takes on Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Willie Dixon and Muddy Waters. And their "Heart of Stone" introduces a crucial Stones element into the mix: menace.
These Swedish pop stars became the world's biggest group in the Seventies. Global hits like the double-divorce drama "Knowing Me, Knowing You" and the war-torn "Fernando" undercut sparkly melodies with Nordic despair.
Mayfield taught sociocultural awareness while dispensing fine ballads ("Gypsy Woman"), inspirational anthems ("People Get Ready," "Move On Up") and edgy street narratives ("Superfly").
Warner Bros., 1978
Funkadelic's first million-seller perfectly distills George Clinton's gospel of mind-altering groove music – from the monster title track to the cosmic make-out soul of "Into You" and the scatological philosophizing of "The Doo Doo Chasers."
After Toys in the Attic proved that Aerosmith were more than a Stones caricature, the band flexed its muscles on the boastfully (and aptly) named Rocks, a buffalo stampede of rave-ups and boogies. In an era of arena bombast, songs like "Back in the Saddle" and "Last Child" kept it low to the ground and swinging.
With their lush music and thoroughly wholesome image, Richard and Karen Carpenter epitomized the early-Seventies mainstream. Years later, as soft rock became a hipster touchstone, the chaste elegance of ballads like "Close to You" and "We've Only Just Begun" influenced many cooler, scruffier indie bands.
In typical Dylan style, the follow-up to Blood on the Tracks was mostly bashed out in one all-night New York session, fueled by tequila. "Sara," his account of his crumbling marriage, and the politically charged "Hurricane" highlight the last great album he'd make for many years
On this tour-de-force double album, Rundgren demonstrates his command of the studio, unfurling his falsetto over a kaleidoscope of rock genres – including the white pop-soul of "Hello It's Me."
Stewart's best disc is loose and warm, rocking hard with mostly acoustic instruments. "Mandolin Wind" is the moving ballad; the title tune is a boozy romp; "Maggie May" went Number One.
The horse on the cover (reportedly) replaced David Crosby, who'd just been fired. But despite the internal drama, the Byrds made a warm, gentle comedown album for Sixties children waking up to the morning after the Summer of Love.
Faced with the task of following up Tommy [see No. 96], the Who just cranked up their amps and blasted. There's no finesse, just the pure power of a band able to play as loud as it wants. When the Who blew up Eddie Cochran's "Summertime Blues" to Godzilla-like proportions, they invented Seventies arena rock.