Anna Minard claims to "know nothing about music." For this column, we force her to listen to random records by artists considered to be important by music nerds.

For Your Pleasure

The first song on this album, "Do the Strand," makes me think I've accidentally started in the middle of the song every time I hear it, which is why I'm starting right here in the middle of this review. In fact, "Strand" makes me think I've accidentally started in the middle of the soundtrack to a plot-heavy musical. Like a slightly less dirty Rocky Horror spin-off or something. Where are we? At a glam party you'd have killed to be invited to—you'd run and press your nose against the front window glass if you saw it from the street—but somehow, in the middle of the night, you've magically been transported there. To the dance floor! (Thank god you sleep in a sequined minidress, right? Sheesh.)

After discovering that Roxy Music was not, in fact, a promotional CD from that '90s faux-skate shop (also: weird how Lady Gaga is on the cover, right?), I started listening to For Your Pleasure, and at first, I was underwhelmed. When I reported this whelming problem to Dave Segal, who I thought would be sympathetic (he's much less sequined than our music editor, who assigned me the album), he said I should take a weekend to "reassess [my] erroneous initial impressions." Schooled!

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