Hosts: Neil & Chris

Chris remembers this hitting like a freight train in November 2002, working retail when nobody was pressing vinyl. Neil recalls everyone expecting Rage with a Soundgarden singer, but getting something completely different. The album didn't feel like Rage at all, crafted and commercial in ways neither band had been. Rick Rubin brought them together (literally driving up to Chris Cornell's spooky Ojai mansion in a 1985 Astro van), and within 10 minutes they knew they had something. Twenty-one songs in 19 days, eight weeks start to finish, one of the most fertile creative periods in anyone's career.

The production sounds exquisite. Neil calls it one of the best sounding rock albums ever created, everything exactly where it's supposed to be, tight and dry where grunge was thick, space in the drums, guitars feeling almost punky. Rick Rubin's wizardry brought confidence in his taste without knowing notes or how to work a desk. The album captures that specific moment in time when these musicians had families, woke up worrying about children like anybody else, came together at the tail end of Seattle's decade-long scene with nothing left to prove and everything to create.

Fourteen songs across 65 minutes that don't feel like it, nothing waffly long, big singles fairly short (Cochise, Show Me How to Live, I Am the Highway). No samples, keyboards, or synthesizers, just guitars bass drums vocals proving how much you can do with so little. Tom Morello's articulate interviews reveal Bad Motor Finger hugely influential, Soundgarden redeeming hard rock from devil-and-groupies lyrics with Chris Cornell's smart dark poetry. The combination created more than the sum of parts, rage's tight playing with Chris's haunted existential lyrics compelling when combined with in-your-face music. Rick Rubin's space-focused production (like he did with Slayer making thrash feel authentic not million-times-tracked) lets everything breathe, drums delicious with lovely room, kit sound making you remember how good this sounded on proper headphones.

Bottled lightning capturing that unrepeatable moment where Rage members post-Zack breakup met Chris Cornell post-Soundgarden, everyone with families in different life phase than early nineties youth, Rick Rubin confident enough to say "this sounds crap" when artists lose perspective close to work. You couldn't put those people back in that room and recreate it, function of time and place and what happened before. Album ranked 281st in Hard Rock Magazine's 500 greatest (should be higher given it lives on every list like Rage does), first American rock band performing Cuba, three Grammy nominations, unique sonic identity completely different animal from both previous bands. Chris Cornell's melodies effortlessly creating beauty or terror from simple chords or complicated riffs, challenging Tim and Brad to harmonic counterpoint instead of James Brown bass-around-the-one. The album proves you can't remaster or re-sing bottled lightning, can't go back mucking about with captured moments (unless you're Toby Jepson reimagining Little Angels as different songs acknowledging who he is now). World needs bands speaking with authentic unapologetic voice, and this was four souls making music not getting tired or bored in fertile creative outpouring.

Perfect for: Supergroup skeptics discovering chemistry matters more than resumes, production sound obsessives hearing Rick Rubin space wizardry, bottled lightning believers understanding unrepeatable moments, Seattle scene historians marking tail end transition, Chris Cornell poetry appreciators fooled by surface meanings, family-phase musicians recognizing creative fertility doesn't require youth, remaster opponents defending captured time, vinyl collectors pulled back from British Steel edge, those who remember 2002 freight train impact when nothing pressed vinyl.