The 30 Best Albums of 1971

Fifty years ago was an extraordinary time for music. There were 12 albums from 1971 I consider masterpieces—among the finest releases from a dozen of the greatest music-makers in the modern era. These albums have stood up to the test of a half century of innovation. I still love new music, but I’d be hard-pressed to put on something from 2021 that I’ll enjoy as much as these works from Marvin Gaye, Joni Mitchell or Sly & The Family Stone.
Indeed, it was such a great year for music that I had too hard a time narrowing the list down to 25, so here are the 30 best albums of 1971, as voted on by the Paste music editors and writers.
30. Dolly Parton: A Coat of Many ColorsIn 1971, country fans had to stop thinking of Dolly Parton as Porter Wagoner’s gifted sidekick and acknowledge her as a giant talent in her own right. In April came the Joshua album with its #1 title track, and in October came the Coat of Many Colors album with two top-20 hits, including the title track, perhaps the best song Parton ever wrote. She wrote seven of the 10 songs, including such gems as the Carter Family-ish “My Blue Tears,” the heart-on-the-sleeve ballad “She Never Met a Man (She Didn’t Like)” and the wild story of a mother and daughter competing for the same “Travelin’ Man.” Check out those Bobby Dyson bass lines. —Geoffrey Himes
29. The Doors: L.A. WomanThere was always a dark undertow to the music of the Doors, a darkness that remained even as the band left behind the psychedelia of 1967 for the raw blues of the early 1970s on L.A. Woman. More than one woman has claimed to be the inspiration of its title track, but it could just as easily be about the city itself, that realm of glittering dreams and broken promises makes a “lucky little lady” and “another lost angel” flip sides of the same coin. Jim Morrison’s bawling vocal casts him a somewhat dispassionate observer (“Cops in cars, the topless bars/Never saw a woman so alone”) who nonetheless tumbles over into his own legend, as he slows down the pace to proclaim himself, “Mr. Mojo Risin.’” The propulsive music barely gives you a chance to catch your breath before cruising into oblivion. The album closes with the most atmospheric song by The Doors, “Riders on the Storm,” ushered in by the sound of an approaching thunderstorm and Ray Manzarek’s gently cascading keyboard line. Morrison coolly croons his way through a lyric that touches on isolation and impeding death (the hitchhiking killer in the second verse), with low key backing from the band that creates a haunting world of loss and desolation. —Gillian G. Gaar
28. Elton John: Madman Across the WaterA year after Madman Across The Water was released, Elton John made Honky Château, which is considered one of his greatest works, has a stronger foothold in the canon, was better loved by critics and is ultimately probably the better album. “Honky Cat,” “I Think I’m Going To Kill Myself” and “Rocket Man” are classics, indeed, but there’s something special about Madman. It’s a wonderful display of the partnership between Elton John and songwriter Bernie Taupin—Taupin’s ability to tell a compelling story and John using his keys, his voice and his presence to make you care about the characters. There’s the weirdness and sadness of “Levon”—a song full of quirky names and scenarios but a feeling of longing and familial dysfunction all too common, backed with that punch of a chorus. There’s “Tiny Dancer,” which was and will always be great regardless of what sentimental movie scenes soundtrack it, and the powerhouse title track, of course. And even the deep cuts have their moments, most notably the mournful, mandolin-tinged “Holiday Inn.” —Lindsay Eanet
27. Serge Gainsbourg: Histoire de Melody NelsonIt takes less than half an hour for the French maestro to take us through a semi-autobiographical concise exploration of seduction. Serge Gainsbourg was always known for his varied musical styling from album to album, or sometimes even song to song. However, Histoire de Melody Nelson’s consistency gives the album the sense that it is one long musical piece with different scenes. The term “concept album” is thrown about quite often, but Gainsbourg was more interested in telling a story than creating a perception. The musician’s funky bass lines, orchestral strings and a slam-poetry vocal delivery helps paint the harrowing story of Gainsbourg crashing his Rolls Royce into a teenaged beauty on her bicycle and the ensuing affair, creating a sense that the entire ensemble of songs is taken from a modern performance meant to be performed in opera houses instead of a studio. Only Serge Gainsbourg and his real-life muse Jane Birkin could have allowed the world into such intimate emotions. —Adam Vitcavage
26. Stevie Wonder: Where I’m Coming FromThis marks the beginning of Wonder’s transition from a cog in Motown’s hitmaking machine to a self-assertive, independent artist. He produced the whole thing himself and co-wrote all nine songs with his then-wife Syretta Wright. You can hear Wonder experimenting with the synthesizers, protest lyrics and funk rhythms that would define his masterpieces coming in a few years. Not all of it works, but his gift for melody is unfailing—“Never Dreamed You’d Leave in Summer” and the top-10 single “If You Really Love Me” are irresistible. —Geoffrey Himes
25. Yes: FragileIt’s funny that fans and detractors of progressive rock both tend to view the genre as separate from the mainstream. The fact is, there are numerous examples where complexity and instrumental chops have aligned with commercial appeal. And when we imagine the apotheosis of music that can be challenging and accessible in equal measure, the conversation has to include Fragile, the fourth album by English prog rock giants Yes. The first offering by the classic-era lineup of Jon Anderson, Chris Squire, Steve Howe, Bill Bruford and Rick Wakeman, Fragile captures all the elements coming together for the band in a way that would cement the foundation for countless others to follow. All five musicians sound simultaneously muscular and limber as they weave ’60s pop stylings, driving rock, traditional English folk, classical and even a touch of Broadway into a vibrant blend, each player appearing to revel in showing off. Squire, for one, singlehandedly re-defines the role of the bass in a pop context, pushing the envelope on par with the likes of Paul McCartney, Larry Graham, Jr. and Jaco Pastorius. That said, no one in the band loses sight of core songwriting principles—in fact, Fragile showcases such seamless execution that it’s easy to forget just how groundbreaking Yes’s sound was in 1971. Anderson’s vocal melodies scrape the upper reaches of the stratosphere, while the band as a whole aims to push rock music to sublime new heights with breathtaking crescendos like “Heart of the Sunrise.” Listening back today, it’s no wonder that Fragile claimed a permanent place for progressive rock in popular music. —Saby Reyes-Kulkarni
24. The Beach Boys: Surf’s UpIn 1971, The Beach Boys’ released Surf’s Up, and despite the tongue-in-cheek title (spoiler: The Beach Boys enjoyed surfing about as much as Brian looks like he does in the “Brian’s back!”-themed SNL sketch where Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi physically force him into the ocean), it was the darkest album the band would ever record. The album cover depicts a nod to “End of the Trail,” a sculpture featuring a broken-down Native American man who, after coming to a sudden halt, is about to plummet over an unseen precipice—given Brian’s all-consuming nervous breakdown within the next two years, the imagery is all too portentous. Straight from the discordant chords that open the album on “Don’t Go Near the Water,” the album is miles from “Surfin’ Safari” as an early pioneer of prog rock. Carl’s alien and ethereal “Feel Flows” finally connected The Beach Boys to the counterculture more than the album’s Kent State shooting protest jam “Student Demonstration Time” ever could, and the organ-laden “A Day in the Life of a Tree” and the haunting “Til I Die” may just be Brian’s last great compositions. But the real standout is the album’s title track, a leftover from Smile. “Surf’s Up” is innovative, enigmatic and sublime evidence of the woulda/coulda/shoulda run for their money The Beach Boys almost gave the Beatles in 1967. —Katie Cameron
23. John Lennon: ImaginePerhaps atoning for sins committed in his heavy-handed salvation work on The Beatles’ Let It Be recordings, here co-producer Phil Spector brings a simplicity of instrumentation to Lennon’s brilliantly written tunes. Even today, the album retains its freshness (except maybe for that annoying sax solo on “It’s So Hard”—I don’t care if it is King Curtis). Compared to the soaring production of Simon and Garfunkel’s inspirational Bridge Over Troubled Water a year earlier, the title track relies on the profundity of Lennon’s words with a fitting, uncomplicated arrangement of piano, bass and drums and just a dusting of strings. And then there’s Lennon’s formidable vocals. While he moves us with his sincerity on “Imagine” he tongue-lashes his way through “Gimme Some Truth,” immediately starting with an obvious impatience and disgust at the incompetence of our political leaders. Later, in the same manner, he unabashedly burns his ex-songwriting partner Paul McCartney in “How Do You Sleep?” With every song a gem, this is John Lennon at his multi-layered best. —Tim Basham
22. Genesis: Nursery CrymeGenesis flirted with—and arguably reached—greatness on their underrated second LP, Trespass, driven by a charismatic frontman (Peter Gabriel) and a folky 12-string elegance. They just needed some home-run hitters for that next leap into full-blown prog. Enter drummer Phil Collins and guitarist Steve Hackett, who solidified the classic quintet lineup with their blend of flash and sensitivity. Nursery Cryme is woefully under-produced compared to their subsequent ’70s classics, but the compositions unlocked new realms of imagination—from the gothic Victorian madness of opening epic “The Musical Box” to the symphonic splendor of closer “The Fountain of Salmacis.” —Ryan Reed
21. Bob Marley & The Wailers: Soul RevolutionBefore the Wailers signed with England’s Island Records, the label that turned Bob Marley into an international superstar, the trio of Marley, Peter Tosh and Bunny Livingston recorded for some 20 different small Jamaican labels. The best of those homegrown tracks were cut with the Barrett Brothers rhythm section for the innovative producer Lee “Scratch” Perry who created spare sonic settings worthy of the young men’s remarkable songwriting and singing. Perry elevated the group above the singles-only treadmill by creating actual albums: 1970’s Soul Rebels and 1971’s Soul Revolution. The latter contained early versions of such Marley standards as “Kaya,” “African Herbsman” and “Duppy Conqueror” and was released with a companion disc of dub versions. —Geoffrey Himes
20. Al Green: Al Green Gets Next to YouWith all due respect to his first two albums, this is the moment that Al Green found his footing as a performer and songwriter. Just compare the picture of Green on the cover of this album to the previous LP, 1969’s Green Is Blues. On the latter, he’s serious and brooding, tensed up to brace against some unknown spiritual or emotional attack. Just two years later, he looks like he has been set free and ready to face the future with a goofy grin and a swing in his step. Assisted every step of the way by his frequent collaborator Willie Mitchell, Green finds the smolder in The Doors’ “Light My Fire,” the raw need in “I Can’t Get Next To You” and the joyful submission in “God Is Standing By.” He also found the first flowers of his songwriting voice, contributing the timeless plea “Tired of Being Alone” and the acid funk romance of “You Say It,” among others, to this glorious and spiritual liberated masterpiece. — Robert Ham