Album Review: Uh Huh Her by PJ Harvey

Most record collections contain only two kinds of album: albums you like and albums you feel you ought to like. The latter have sat on your shelf since the day you bought them, taunting your shallow taste every time you reach for something less difficult. They are often by Captain Beefheart, or Sun Ra, or Faust. You bought them because you read somewhere that they were seminal and groundbreaking or because they came recommended by Lester Bangs or Kurt Cobain, or some other semi-mythic avatar of musical taste with ears apparently made of Teflon.

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