There are very few albums that I consider absolutely perfect from start to end, with absolutely no weak track in sight. Charlotte Gainsbourg’s 5:55 is a perfect example — I have, in fact, extended it by two bonus tracks, “Set Yourself On Fire” (bonus on deluxe edition) and “Somewhere Between Waking And Sleeping” (b-side to “The Songs That We Sing”) as the only fault I can find with such a flawless record is that it is TOO DAMN SHORT.

Madonna’s Ray Of Light has relaunched her career after (relative) failures of Bedtime Stories and Erotica, and rightly so. Among the 13 songs, totalling over 60 minutes, there isn’t a single weak one. In fact, there isn’t a single weak MINUTE. It is tempting to dismiss “Mer Girl” as an attempt at copying Bjork, but it is a successful attempt; Madonna’s voice is absolutely perfect throughout, and if there is anything to regret, it is that she never tried to make a record as good as this one afterwards.

New Order’s Technique is another great example: an album of 9 tracks, which pull off both indie rock and dance sound, both of them effortlessly and flawlessly. (For another example of the same feat, and again with Bernard Sumner on vocals, see Electronic’s Electronic.) There is not a single weak moment on Technique; it possesses a kind of magic that eluded all further New Order albums. It is very short — and absolutely, incredibly perfect. It is one of those albums I always wish I wrote.

There are many, many more albums that are ALMOST perfect. One of them is Pet Shop Boys’ Behaviour, let down only by the godawful album version of “How Can You Expect To Be Taken Seriously?”. Massive Attack’s Protection ends with their live version of The Doors’ “Light My Fire” which can be accurately described as “whimsicle”. Marc Almond’s The Stars We Are is let down by the duet version of “Something’s Gotten Hold Of My Heart” which I suppose has to be included seeing it was one of his biggest hits, but really, Gene Pitney’s voice mixes with Almond’s almost as well as mustard with chocolate muffins.

Saint Etienne’s Tiger Bay, which is my favourite record of theirs, sadly contains a filler track — Shara Nelson-sung “On The Shore” — which is pleasant in a very good b-side sort of way, but in all honesty has no right to be included on a record so good. Texas’ White On Blonde would be so much nicer to listen to, had they not decided to include a somewhat off-tune male voice going “hold me tight… hold me tight” in the closer, “Breathless”, sounding as if someone put it there as a joke. Not a very funny one.

The Smiths’ The Queen Is Dead (I’m going to get in trouble for that one) is an amazing record. It is considered their biggest classic, and one of the essential, century-defining albums. Which it is. With the exception of “Never Had No One Ever”, which is a very long moan about Morrissey not getting laid. It is moody, atmospheric, sad, desperate, and mind-numbingly boring. “I Know It’s Over”, the previous track on the record, is moody, atmospheric, sad, desperate and incredibly engaging, due to emotion in both the playing and the singing; that emotion is missing from “Never Had No One Ever”, which goes for, excuse the pun, ever. Those are very long 3 minutes and 37 seconds you have to spend waiting for “Cemetry Gates” to kick you out of the “Never…”-induced coma.

Human League’s Dare… another classic, another era-defining record, another one that contains… something odd. “Get Carter” is a minute of irritating sinus-shaped noise. When Human League embarked on their Dare tour, this was played by stone-faced Philip Oakey in its embarrassing entirety. If it’s meant to be a joke, it is a very unfunny one, and if it’s meant seriously… oh god, that only makes it worse. It only lasts a minute, but it is, again, a very long minute.

Depeche Mode, who have also managed to record a perfect album in the shape of Violator, followed it up with Songs of Faith and Devotion. The druggy, hazed atmosphere of that record, complete with Alan Wilder’s legendary, erm, devotion to discovering the most amazing sounds and mixing them until they sound absolutely perfect together, is unfortunately weakened by the album’s fourth single (who? who chose that one? who hated the band so much?) “In Your Room”. My only problem with “In Your Room” is that the room in question doesn’t seem to have a window. The air in that room is stale. And oh my God, at 6:27 the album version drags forever, which was maybe the desired effect — what is it, a sonic equivalent of K-hole? — but every verse would have been made much more bearable had it been shortened by 8 or so lines of text.

I could go on and on, of course. But I typed so much I’d like some audience participation now. What is your choice of a perfect record — and an almost perfect one? Do you agree with my choices, or disagree with them? Let me know in the comments.

FINALLY. The best song from the album. It’s not really a single (it’s a lead track on the forthcoming Christmas EP) but who gives a toss — it’s there, it’s purchaseable (well… eventually it will be) and it’s GORGEOUS. And the video is lovely too — live footage, clever editing and loads of shots of gorgeous dancers who, unlike the ones on the Cubism tour, are happy to be on the stage. Result!!!

Er.

Don’t watch it. But buy the album nevertheless.

A week ago, when “Love Etc.” charted in the UK at number 14, James Masterton from www.launch.co.uk mentioned the Depeche Mode syndrome of artists with established fanbase, whose records debut high on the chart, then drop like stones, never to chart again. Next he suggested Pet Shop Boys suffer from the said syndrome and asked dramatically: why do they bother?

While, generally speaking, I think James Masterton is a twat, he’s got a bit of a point here. It’s just that he mentioned it at an exceptionally bad moment. You see, the first half of this year sees albums from three of my favourite acts, each on the market for about ever, each suffering from the Depeche Mode syndrome. And the only one that actually justifies its presence on the chart — the only one that should still bother — is the Pet Shop Boys.

Morrissey’s recent album, “Years of Refusal” is a Morrissey bingo card. Long song titles? Check. Self-deprecating wit? Check. Self-pitying title? Check. “Nobody loves me and so I must aim my love at immovable objects of large size because they can’t escape”? Oh, I just summed down the lyric of the lead single, “Throwing my arms around Paris”. The triumphant return that was “You are the quarry” was stellar songwriting, fantastic soaring melodies, glorious production (long-term Morrissey fans, who hate synthesizers, tend to call it “cheap” but then, they would). “Ringleader of the tormentors”, the four worst songs off which were all singles, was patchy and uneven, but had its amazing, bombastic moments where Tony Visconti’s heavyhanded production shone — “Dear God please help me”, “Life is a pigsty”, “I will see you in far-off places” more than justified the plodding rest of the album.

“Years of Refusal” doesn’t offer anything that we haven’t heard. By that I don’t mean, you know, elsewhere. I mean things unheard on Morrissey albums. His band seems to get worse with every record — there is only one setting on Boz Boorer’s guitar, and Jesse Tobias seems to be doing something — the cover says he plays guitar — but maybe he’s using Boz Boorer’s guitar since I swear you can’t hear two distinct styles on the record. There’s some nice stuff — “Paris” is one of the most beautiful vocal melodies Moz produced in the last… well… three years, and “Something is squeezing my skull” has a great chorus. But that’s about it. It’s not even aggressively bad like “Your Uncle”. It’s destined to be the album that nobody is ever going to cite as the record that changed their life. Which is a sin for someone who was originally a part of The Smiths.

The new Depeche Mode album, “Sounds of the Universe” is out next month and I can’t really review it, because I couldn’t make myself listen to it more than twice. After their worst record, “Exciter” they seemed to realise they alienate the fans, don’t gain any new ones and bore the shit out of themselves even by having to play that kind of material live. The new frame of thought brought us “Playing the Angel” which had a few songs that didn’t last for 9 minutes AND had choruses. And then they obviously decided it was enough.

I fail to see the point of “Sounds of the Universe”. Perhaps it’s the ongoing bet that Anton Corbijn has with Peter Saville — who knocks the ugliest, most disgusting cover art in MS Word and gets paid for it? Saville seemed to win with New Order’s “Waiting for the Sirens’ Call”, but no, it is Corbijn who has the last word. Most parents print out their children’s doodles made in MS Paint and stick them on the fridge, Corbijn took his and made it the new Depeche Mode cover, but not after he embellished it with three fonts one of which looks suspiciously like Arial. (He spared us Comic Sans, but I’m sure it’s coming.)

Maybe it’s that Depeche Mode felt the call of the muse? That muse is a bitch, because she inspired an album that sounds like Exciter Part 2: And Now Without The Few Tunes That Were There. The ice-cold, clinical production makes it difficult to listen to the record altogether, same as it did with Exciter, but where Exciter’s saving graces were the tunes (as proven by “Freelove” there was nothing there a good remix wouldn’t fix), there’s none such stuff here — except for “Peace” and “Jezebel”, none of which strike me as possible single material. It will be interesting to see how Depeche Mode are going to promote this record further, because I swear there is one single on it, it’s “Wrong” and it’s out already.

Which brings us to the Pet Shop Boys’ Yes”. The lead single, “Love Etc.”, is killer. So. Good. And… drum rolls… THERE IS MORE. “All Over The World”, co-written by a certain Tschaikovsky, is as good or better. “Pandemonium” is italo disco gone right. “King of Rome” would have fit on Behaviour — the first post-Behaviour song to match these heights. “Did you see me coming?”, which is slightly stained by Johnny Marr’s guitar in its “Electronic, the second album” setting, is nevertheless a very catchy, summery, pop song. “Legacy”, the closer, is majestic, boombastic and amazing the way none of their closers were since “Jealousy”. Even the clunkers — the last clunker-free PSB album being, after all, Introspective — aren’t as bad as the 74 Fundamental ballads. “Building a wall” is the kind of song New Order tend to do when they are feeling particularly uncreative, but with Sumner’s monotone it sounds better. “More than a dream”, a stomping pop song, would make the best Girls Aloud single ever, but there’s nothing remotely Pet Shop Boys about it. “Beautiful People” is Pet Shop Boys doing the Sixties. Don’t know about you, but to me that is a bad thing. I have Saint Etienne for this kind of job. But… the other 8 songs make up for those 3. “Legacy” itself makes up for at least two, with its couplet “you’ll get over it, and I’m on your side, because…/you’ll get over it, and WHAT A RIDE IT WAS” being my favourite Pet Shop Boys moment since Paninaro 95.

No, James, I don’t expect any of those albums to stay on the charts for a long time. Pet Shop Boys started — after Monday sales — at #1, to drop to #4 on Sunday. Morrissey’s CD is out of top 75 after, what, three weeks? Depeche Mode’s album isn’t out yet, but I don’t expect any better. But you know James, the current number one — two weeks on top — is Ronan Keating’s compilation of songs his mum liked. Songs as striking and exciting as “Time after time”, “I believe I can fly” and “Carrickfergus”. OMGZ Ronan’s momma liked boring midtempo crap! Now, James, according to you this is the act that has a point. But whatever that point is, I’m better off listening to Yes.

AWESOME