Top Rock Albums Of All Time (And There Are No Beatles In Sight)

It's an all-but-impossible question to answer — what rock album is your favorite, and why exactly does it rank at the top of your all-time list? Naturally, we decided to look inward and put our Grunge staff to the test to do just that.

This question is made far more difficult when you look back at the history of rock and realize that it encompasses so, so much. Rock dates back decades and has led to a multitde of additional related genres, like classic rock, psychedelic rock, and alternative rock. So many terrific artists, so many legendary albums, so many solid memories ... and yes, such a hard decision to make.

We looked back at our favorites and picked the best of the bunch — according to us, anyway. If there is one thing Grunge staff knows, that's definitely music (and true crime, and history, and science, of course). Let's take a look and dive in to our faves, and why we chose them.

By 1984, Heart had become music-industry pariahs. Dropped by their label and turned away by five more, the band made a last-ditch effort to right the ship. They signed with Capitol Records on the condition that they'd delegate some of the songwriting duties to label-picked hitmakers and recruited Ron Nevison, an engineer-turned-producer who'd worked with The Who and Led Zeppelin, to produce what some members feared would be their last album. Gone were Ann Wilson's flute and (mostly) Nancy Wilson's beloved acoustic guitars. This album would be 10 tracks of slick, radio-friendly rock that occasionally even flirted with glam metal.

People who hadn't bought a Heart album in years were suddenly complaining the band had sold out, but plenty of listeners felt differently. The album went platinum five times over and earned the band their first Grammy nomination and their first No. 1 single ("These Dreams," co-written by some dude named Bernie Taupin). Three more tracks would crack Billboard's top 10.

Heart's comeback album has as many detractors as devotees, especially among rock purists who are turned off by its unabashed attempt to appeal to the MTV set. But I've been in love with it since the day it dropped — it's an airtight collection of sing-into-your-hairbrush bangers and moody ballads that still hits just right. Thanks to tracks like "If Looks Could Kill" and "The Wolf," it was also my gateway LP to the harder stuff, setting up my obsession with prog-metal masterpieces like Queensrÿche's "Operation: Mindcrime" and Crimson Glory's "Transcendence" a few years later.

As I climbed onto the bandwagon of Meta's new Thread, a creeping anxiety spread through me: I had just granted yet another social media platform access to my sensitive data. It's the same claustrophobic dread expressed in a 2023 Black Mirror episode, as well as one of the best rock albums of all time, one that was before its time in depicting the oppression of consumerism and the powerlessness we sometimes feel as we watch technology win over the human soul.

I was introduced to Radiohead through my older brother's bandmates, learning all of the words to singles like "Creep," in middle school before jumping into the heavy hitters like "OK Computer" in college. Like our parents before us, my friends and I bought the record on vinyl and hosted listening parties as you do with any rock classic. Soon, "Creep" hardly compared to "Karma Police" — our new anthem.

Always a band to push the boundary of what rock is, Radiohead infused the album with a melancholy cyber-rock vibe that crescendos in explosive guitar riffs. Although frontman Thom Yorke told Rolling Stone the album was inspired by feeling estranged after years of touring, it became emblematic of that sinking feeling — or rage, or panic — you feel within a sea of people on their phones. Michael Stipe perhaps summed up that subterranean homesick alien feeling the album invokes best, saying it was a "yearning, emotive, grounded urge to create something real."

With the winds from the success of Nirvana's "Nevermind" blowing behind its back, "Dookie" made the previously underground punk rock band Green Day superstars, arguably reviving an increasingly bleak early '90s rock scene. Paving the way for bands such as Blink 182 and Fall Out Boy, Green Day had thumbed its nose to the insular punk community and opened up punk rock to the masses. Released in early 1994, "Dookie" was a world apart from the band's forgettable first two albums, eventually selling over 20 million copies worldwide and nabbing Green Day a Grammy.

Knowing absolutely none of this, "Dookie" was the first album I bought in my early teens, a milestone unto itself. Whether it was the unpretentious "Where's Waldo?" cover art, the occasional radio plays caught in the evening, or a mention by one of the cooler kids in my class, that's where a week's worth of paper round money went. And what an investment: After one listen on the family CD player, I promptly taped it, and into the Walkman it went, becoming my entire playlist for months. Green Day's raging 1995 "Insomniac" would eventually supplant it, and many other bands would follow, but "Dookie" broke the seal.

"Dookie" was an awakening for me, and a jarring one too. In contrast to grunge's navel-gazing, smoldering teenage angst found a solid sounding board with Billy Joe Armstrong's blunt wit. Other albums may be more emotionally impactful, and others more cathartic, but "Dookie" did both best — and 30 years later, perhaps still does.