In the age of streaming and every song ever recorded being available at the poke of a touchscreen, the idea of curating an album seems odd. The notion that artists put tracks in a specific order for good reason might be entirely lost on some; they all get played anyway, so why does it matter where or when you find them?
Curation, however, matters. There's a reason why most decent artists put songs in given places, be they explosive openers or an oasis of calm at around Track 5. It's tempting to think of closing tracks as being the unwanted oddballs of a given record, and while that's true in some cases, many stone-cold classics are to be found lurking at the bottom of the track listing, lying in wait so that the record can go out with a bang rather than a whimper.
Oasis – Champagne Supernova ((What's The Story) Morning Glory?)
Definitely Maybe still gets my vote as the best Oasis album, obviously, but it doesn’t end on the same grand scale as (What’s The Story?) Morning Glory. Champagne Supernova is a fabulous way to close the album off and if you’ve heard the band play it live you’ll know just how epic this track can sound. I’ll be the first to admit the hall/cannonball rhyming is an extremely questionable lyrical choice, but you can’t have everything, hey?
The track starts off pretty calmly, in a reflective mood with the ocean swaying in the background, Liam’s voice and guitars playing, but over time it slowly builds and builds until it becomes a wonderfully arranged musical melting pot of guitars, strings, drums and vocals. The song reaches quite the crescendo and it hangs there for what seems like an eternity like a big exclamation point over an album packed with hits that defined music for an entire generation.
Now, who’s got a spare ticket for their tour later this year?
Buy (What's the Story) Morning Glory? on Amazon
Led Zeppelin – When the Levee Breaks (Led Zeppelin IV, 1971)
We included When the Levee Breaks on our list of the best British rock songs to test your hi-fi system, testifying to its quality as one of the group's signature works and a peerless candidate for testing your hi-fi or headphones. At a mammoth seven-minute runtime, it's an epic conclusion to an album that, almost by definition, should be nestled deep within any respectable music collector's catalogue.
Central to When the Levee Breaks is its progressive, grooving approach which, thanks to a rhythmic interplay between the interlocked drum and bass passages, will grant your system a surefire workout in terms of timing, dynamics and textural clarity. Naturally, the vocals take over when those extended instrumental breaks aren't hogging centre stage, with the sung passages undulating between smooth, bluesy crooning and Robert Plant's searing screech.
Lynyrd Skynyrd – Free Bird (Pronounced 'Lĕh-'nérd 'Skin-'nérd, 1973)
Sorry American readers, but we had to. We didn't have a choice!
Free Bird is the US’s Wonderwall, requested at every gig, wedding, Bar Mitzvah and open mic set from California to Kentucky. Even after all these years it’s everywhere, an inescapable part of rock and roll history that refuses to budge no matter how hard some weary listeners wish it would.
The problem with Free Bird is that it’s still really, really good. Massively overlong, overblown and overdone, packed with not one but two solos, the latter of which goes on for half a lifetime, it’s rock with the stabilisers taken off and thrown into the fire. If you’re going to end an album, you might as well do it with arguably the most iconic and recognised tune ever recorded. Play Free Bird!
Buy Pronounced 'Lĕh-'nérd 'Skin-'nérd on Amazon
Linkin Park – Numb (Meteora, 2003)
Along with In the End from Linkin Park’s preceding debut Hybrid Theory, the closer to 2003’s Meteora was the defining anthem of angst and dissolution for disaffected Millennials in skater t-shirts and oversized baggy jeans. Linkin Park were the defining act of the nu-metal surge of the early 2000s, and while it’s easy to dismiss them for their association with one of music’s least respected or trendy genres, their capabilities as undeniable hitmakers are impossible to ignore.
Numb’s enduring popularity testifies to a talent that transcended the era in which it was birthed. Now easily exceeding two billion hits on YouTube, as well as countless streams on all of the various music streaming platforms, it’s an anthem with a legacy that few can match. Raw, emotive and defined by Chester Bennington’s unmatchable energy, it’s a track that continues to stand the test of time.
Prince – Purple Rain (Purple Rain, 1984)
Purple Rain, along with Sign o’ the Times, is the Prince pinnacle. It’s a high bar, and Lord knows the diminutive pop icon never let up in trying to move past, beyond or away from Purple Rain as he pumped out double albums at twice the rate most of his contemporaries were finding the time to conjure up a couple of decent singles. The man was as prolific as he was wickedly talented, after all.
Purple Rain, both the title track and the album, labour under legacies that have overtaken them somewhat, yet to deny the quality of the artistry, musicianship and production nous evidenced on 1984’s monster release would be petty at best and downright delusional at worst. Experimental and layered while retaining Prince’s peerless pop pedigree, it’s an astonishing intersection of avant-garde boundary-pushing and platinum-selling mainstream appeal.
Avenged Sevenfold – Life Is But a Dream...(Life Is But a Dream..., 2023)
If you’re keen to drop your preconceptions and want to go on one of the most bizarre musical trips out there, might we recommend Avenged Sevenfold’s most recent studio album Life Is But a Dream... as your gateway to existential dread? We know that given groups conjure up certain prejudices, but Life Is But a Dream... really is like few metal albums you’ve ever heard. It. Is. Bonkers.
Game Over runs the full gamut of human experience in the space of about four minutes, whereas Nobody is all about death and the idea that you might not have really existed in the first place (or maybe you did, who knows?). G tracks God’s creation of the universe, whereas (D)eath is the family-friendly story of a man chucking himself off a big old building.
The entire album can feel like being run through some sort of cosmic mangle, making its title track closer – a wonderfully evocative piece of standalone ebbing, twinkling piano – so welcome. It’s the calm after the storm, and it says so much without a single lyric being sung.
Buy Life Is But a Dream...on Amazon
Nirvana – All Apologies (In Utero, 1993)
On arguably their finest album – when we say arguably, we mean that it could quite literally spark an argument in the comments section – Nirvana waited until late in the day to play one of their most devastating aces. The grunge pioneers don’t have many duff tracks, but even so, All Apologies continues to stand up as one of the '90s' most enduringly popular tunes.
Kurt Cobain’s gift for getting an unbelievable amount out of not very much at all was perhaps never so finely displayed. Consisting mainly of a simple bassline, an equally basic kick-snare drum pattern and some of Cobain’s sparsest lyrics, the whole thing comes together to form something far greater than the sum of its parts. This is Nirvana boiled down to their most basic essentials, and the result is a mini marvel.
The Who – Won't Get Fooled Again (Who's Next, 1971)
Who’s Next is bookended by its best material. 1971’s now-timeless release has one of the greatest opening tracks ever recorded in the shape of Baba O’Riley, so it’s only right that it closes with a tune that pretty much matches it toe-to-toe in Won’t Get Fooled Again.
The Who in full hard rock, ‘We’re not gonna’ take it’ mode (yes, we know that was Twisted Sister), Won’t Get Fooled Again plays with the ideas of revolution and cyclical politics as Roger Daltry’s unparalleled pipes roar at full tilt and Pete Townshend’s axe moves mountains. “I'll tip my hat to the new Constitution / Take a bow for the new revolution” are arguably the lines that spring to mind first when you think of the signature tune, but the killer closer of “Meet the new boss / same as the old boss” is just pure songwriting perfection.
Coldplay – Everything's Not Lost (Parachutes, 2000)
Woah, hold your horses. We know that the appearance of Coldplay on What Hi-Fi? is a little like a reputable food magazine telling you not to bother with homemade veggie lasagne and recommending a Deliveroo-ed McDonald's instead, but let’s keep our minds open, shall we? There’s nothing wrong with a bit of Coldplay, after all.
They were criticised for being too boring and winsome as they started out in the late ‘90s, then too safe and middle-of-the-road by the time that X&Y came along in the mid-2000s, all before the band’s technicolour pop phase from 2010 onwards attracted as much vitriol as it did mainstream commercial success. If you’re Chris Martin and co., you just can’t win.
Yet were it released today and credited to an anonymous indie quartet via SoundCloud, Parachutes would probably be the darling of the same self-appointed musos who have decided that Coldplay, and their legion of avid fans, are music’s personae non gratae. It’s a low-key gem of an album, topped off by a sweet, sincere closer that marries pure simplicity with an easygoing, gently swaying temperament and an admirable core sentiment – a cracker for personal and professional listening purposes.
Alice in Chains – Would? (Dirt, 1992)
Forget saving your sonic ace for the big finale, Alice in Chains put their most recognisable work of any album at the back end of 1992's ever-excellent Dirt. The Seattle quartet's back catalogue remains well worth digging into if you like a sound that blends outright heavy metal sensibilities with the emerging bleakness and fury of grunge, an approach which Would? beautifully exemplifies.
While mentioning grunge might have you wondering just how well Would? qualifies as an amenable test track, it has the chops to see you right. Musically it's sophisticated and distinct, conjuring a hard, meaty sound that the best systems should be capable of capturing, while its dynamic shifts from brooding verses to that walloping chorus are ideal for seeing how seamlessly your hi-fi can transition from soft to loud.
Nine Inch Nails – Hurt (The Downward Spiral, 1994)
Nine Inch Nails' The Down Spiral – unquestionably one of the finest albums of 1994 – is not an easy listen. As the title suggests, Trent Reznor's exploration of descending into misery and decay isn't a cheery listen, though its enduring popularity and acclaim suggest that far more listeners have used it as a source of catharsis than those who have employed it as a musical depressive.
While the bleak, almost finite nature of Hurt makes it ideal for closing off perhaps NIN's crowning glory of a record, it's an odd twist that Johnny Cash's exemplary cover has rather outshone the original in terms of playtime and, by some measures, acclaim. Cash's version has a pounding, climactic weight to it, but there's something so eerily unsettling about the original, from its weak, whispering vocals to its distortive sonic effects, industrial percussive underpinnings and the barren, almost atonal nature of its melody.
Hurt doesn't exactly end things on a happy note, so maybe seek out some Katrina and the Waves or Pharrell Williams to pick you back up again.
Buy The Downward Spiral on Amazon
MORE:
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7 test tracks that have been playing on repeat in the What Hi-Fi? test rooms
Check out our ultimate test tracks playlist hub
