My friend Ken and I decided to listen to an album every day this year. Each week is themed. At the end of each week, we rank what we listened to. To be clear, we aren’t ranking every album that fits the theme. We are only ranking what we chose to listen to during the last seven days.
This week’s theme is “q but no queens,” meaning albums by artists whose names start with the letter “q” but do not contain the word “queen.” Why no queens? From Queen Pen and Queen Latifah to Queens of the Stone Age and Queensrÿche, this category would have been too easy if queens were allowed. Since they weren’t, it turned into sonic chaos.
#7 Metal Health by Quiet Riot (1983)
At the end of each week, I send Ken the list of every album we’ve listened to. He subsequently sends me his ranking. I then adjust those rankings as I see fit, and that’s what ends up in the newsletter. My adjustments usually aren’t that drastic, though. Our respective tastes are similar enough. Not this week. We had little agreement about anything except Quiet Riot.
If you were to catch me on the right day, I might claim that a “Cum On Feel the Noize” is the greatest hard rock song yet to exist. It’s got a hook most pop craftsmen would envy but is still backed by grinding guitars. The problem is that it’s pretty close to the only highlight on the group’s album, Metal Health.
Quiet Riot is an early example of what would become known as “hair metal.” Don’t let people tell you otherwise: Hair metal is largely pop music dressed up with distorted guitars played by men in outrageous. Metal Health succeeds when it’s aware of that. When it’s not, you get half-rate ballads (e.g., “Thunderbird”) and solos that aim but fall well short of Eddie Van Halen (e.g., “Battle Axe”).
#6 96 Tears by ? and the Mysterians (1966)
Debates about the first song in a genre are usually fruitless. Sure, you could argue that “Rocket 88” was the first true rock ‘n’ roll song. But genres don’t arrive on a particular day. They slowly emerge over time, mutating from earlier forms. That doesn’t stop us from arguing, though.
If you’ve ever been deep into a conversation about the first punk song, “96 Tears” by ? and the Mysterians has probably come up. The late Dave Marsh claimed that he was the first to use “punk” in a Creem magazine article to describe ? and the Mysterians. The term “punk” actually goes back centuries, but in the early 1970s it was more regularly being applied to a raw, often rudimentary kind of rock music.
“96 Tears” is an incredible song. It is raw and rudimentary, but the specificity of the snarled lyrics (i.e., why are there 96 tears?) and the organ flitting back-and-forth between staccato and arpeggiated chords makes for a memorable song. Even the shouts of Rudy Martinez—then known as the inquisitive punctuation mark—heard during the outro are particularly inspired.
The rest of the record doesn’t have the special feeling of the title track, though. It’s mostly mid-rate garage rock (e.g., “Don’t Tease Me”), forgettable instrumentals (e.g., “Set Aside”), and a simple cover of “Stormy Monday.” None of this is offensively bad. In fact, I enjoyed the record while I was listening to it. But I’d probably never listen to any songs other than the title track again.
#5 A Letter to My Younger Self by Quinn XCII (2017)
Right around the time I was headed off to college, a subgenre of hip-hop began to emerge that was fit for the moment in my life: frat rap. This style, arguably launched by Asher Roth’s “I Love College,” was dominated by White boys, often from the northeastern United States, rapping about drugs and parties and girls. It’s a style that only works if you come to it at the right point in your life.
Though Quinn XCII is not a frat rapper, his music shares some attributes with the genre. The beats are chilled out (e.g., “Two 10s”). The subject matter sometimes centers on love and substances (e.g., “Am I High Rn”). And though he mostly sings, some of his flows are reminiscent of a rapper (e.g., “A Letter My Younger Self”).
On songs like “Stacy,” Quinn XCII manages to put all of this together to make compelling music. But he doesn’t have the steam to carry it through for a full 40 minutes. In short, this record would have made a better EP than an LP.
#4 The Dude by Quincy Jones (1981)
I think I’ve finally come to accept that I just don’t like 1980s R&B ballads. 1970s R&B ballads are fine. So, are 1960s R&B ballads. But something bad happened to the R&B ballad after MTV switched on.
Quincy Jones’s The Dude is half ballads and half dance numbers. The dance numbers, especially “Ai No Corrida,” are excellent. Some of those propulsive beats, like “Turn on the Action,” even seem to presage the blockbuster Jones was to work on the next year: Michael Jackson’s Thriller. But those dance numbers are bogged down by the ballads. I need an album with more “Razzamatazz” and less “One Hundred Ways.”
#3 No Kill No Beep Beep by Q and Not U (2000)
What makes No Kill No Beep Beep stand apart in the post-hardcore universe is how rhythmically diverse it is. Some of that diversity takes you to an almost math rocky- world (e.g., “Fever Sleeves”). But other times it heads to more traditional dance beats (e.g., “Line in the Sand”). It’s in that twitchy, dancy tension that No Kill No Beep Beep thrives.
#2 Get Up On and Dance by Quad City DJ’s
While searching for artists that fit this week’s theme, the Quad City DJ’s ended up on my list for two reasons. First, I could not discern why their name had an apostrophe in it. Second, they made the delectable theme song for the movie Space Jam.
If you like the theme song to Space Jam, you will enjoy the Florida trio’s sole studio album: Get Up On and Dance. And that name says almost everything you need to know about the album. It’s packed with non-stop southern beats that will get you on your feet. Just throw on “C'mon N' Ride It (The Train)” and let the rhythms wash over you for the next 45 minutes.
#1 Isle of Qveen and THE ALCHEMIST by Qveen Herby (2026 and 2024)
I studied mathematics in college. People often assume that mathematics is explicitly concerned with numbers. Sure, numbers are often involved, but mathematics is more generally concerned with the study of abstract objects. You start from a set of basic definitions and see what you can deduce logically. Great mathematicians can often push those definitions to their limits in order to prove shocking, unintuitive results.
Ken—I am almost certain—has never enjoyed a math class. Yet our year of album listening has demonstrated that he has the same boundary-pushing impulse of great mathematicians. Qveen Herby is a great example of this. I said no queens were allowed this week. Ken made sure to find a qveen that followed my rules.
Qveen Herby releases are short. Most run under 20 minutes. That’s why we listened to two of them. And I think her sound is best captured by a bit of dialogue heard at the beginning of her song “The Fool”: “People always say like, ‘That’s not realistic’ / Not for you, you unwhimsical bitch.”
Both Isle of Qveen and THE ALCHEMIST are packed with whimsy. On the former, she tells us she’s “Rude on the beat when [she’s] doing [her] dance.” On the latter, she relates how she might “Fuck around, be the new Bob Dylan.” And the beats are somewhere between cartoonish and demonic, the perfect sound for a strip club overtaken by demented Looney Tunes. Just remember to bring your whimsy inside when you enter.
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The reason why "Cum on feel the noize" is the only highlight on that Quit Riot album is that it is a song by Slade, a far superior group in every way. :)
I took a class in college called Math.
Also don’t act like our rankings were drastically different this is so close to what I sent