Rock history is full of golden streaks. Those miraculous runs when an artist can do no wrong, each new album topping the last.
The Beatles from Rubber Soul to Abbey Road; Bowie, Stevie Wonder and Steely Dan in the ’70s; Radiohead in the 2000s — at times like these, brilliance feels inevitable, like lightning striking over and over. But even the greatest can stumble. Sometimes it’s exhaustion, sometimes ego, sometimes changing times or sheer bad luck.
And that stumble often comes in the form of one record: the album that broke the spell. Not necessarily unlistenable, but a jarring reminder that greatness isn’t guaranteed. Here are 15 albums that marked the end of astonishing runs — the first time critics raised eyebrows, fans shook heads, and the magic suddenly seemed fragile.
1. The Beatles Let It Be (1970)
Few bands have had a streak as flawless as The Beatles from Rubber Soul through Abbey Road. Then came Let It Be, released after their breakup. It wasn’t all bad — 'Across the Universe' and the title track are gems — but the album bore the scars of bitter arguments and creative exhaustion. Phil Spector’s syrupy orchestration only worsened things, obscuring the raw energy of the original 'Get Back' sessions. Instead of a glorious finale, Let It Be felt like a postscript to greatness, a weary bow-out after a revolutionary decade.
2. Bob Dylan Self Portrait (1970)
In the 1960s, Bob Dylan seemed untouchable: Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde on Blonde, John Wesley Harding. Then came Self Portrait, a bewildering double album of covers, half-finished sketches, and bizarre takes. Critics were savage — Greil Marcus opened his review with the immortal line, 'What is this s***?' Dylan later claimed he released it deliberately to 'get rid of' overzealous fans. Whether a prank or a misfire, it snapped the spell of his golden run and left listeners scratching their heads.
3. The Rolling Stones Goats Head Soup (1973)
From 1968's Beggars Banquet to Exile on Main St. (1972, via Let it Bleed and Sticky Fingers), the Stones delivered four consecutive masterpieces. But Goats Head Soup, their Jamaican-recorded follow-up, felt tired. While 'Angie' is a classic ballad, much of the record lacks the swagger and danger that defined their peak. Overproduced and subdued, it sounded like a band cooling off after a marathon. In hindsight, it has its defenders, but at the time it marked the end of the Stones’ imperial phase.
4. Led Zeppelin Presence (1976)
After six albums that built the Led Zeppelin myth, Presence landed like a grim thud. Robert Plant was recovering from a serious car crash, Jimmy Page was descending deeper into heroin addiction, and the sessions were lacking Zep's usual vim and verve. The music reflects it: hard, brittle, and strangely joyless, with little of the mysticism or thunder that defined earlier work. While 'Achilles’ Last Stand' is a titan, the rest felt thin compared to the previous year's big, bountiful double LP Physical Graffiti. Zeppelin’s aura dimmed here.
5. Yes Tormato (1978)
Prog rock gods Yes had dazzled from The Yes Album through Going for the One. Then came Tormato, a curiously limp and scattershot effort. Poor production left Rick Wakeman’s keyboards sounding tinny, while Jon Anderson’s soaring vocals felt unmoored. Even the cover — infamously defaced with a tomato thrown during a dispute — hinted at the chaos within. It wasn’t a total disaster, but compared to the grandeur of 1972's Close to the Edge or Relayer (1975), it felt like a joke no one wanted to tell.
6. Stevie Wonder Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants (1979)
Stevie Wonder’s 1970s run (Talking Book, Innervisions, Fulfillingness’ First Finale, Songs in the Key of Life) is one of the most extraordinary in music. Then came this: a sprawling, experimental soundtrack for a documentary about plants. Using early digital synthesizers, Stevie crafted ambient textures, mood pieces, and wordless experiments — intriguing, yes, but baffling to fans expecting funk and soul. Some admire its ambition, but for most listeners, it marked the abrupt end of Stevie’s golden streak.
7. Genesis ... And Then There Were Three... (1978)
After the adventurous highs of Foxtrot, Selling England by the Pound, and the sprawling The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Genesis began a shift with …And Then There Were Three…. Following guitarist Steve Hackett’s departure, the band leaned toward streamlined arrangements and radio-friendly melodies. While it yielded the hit 'Follow You Follow Me', the album lacked the intricate interplay and epic sweep of their prog-era masterpieces, signalling the end of Genesis’s golden progressive streak.
8. Elton John A Single Man (1978)
After a dazzling run of albums in the early to mid-’70s — from Tumbleweed Connection through Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and Captain Fantastic — Elton John hit a wall with A Single Man (1978). Bereft of longtime lyricist Bernie Taupin for the first time, Elton leaned on Gary Osborne, producing slick but lyrically uninspired songs. Though it sold reasonably, the spark of invention and emotional punch of his classics were missing, marking a clear end to his golden streak.
9. Joni Mitchell Dog Eat Dog (1985)
After two decades of astonishing reinventions — from the folk poetry of Blue to the jazz-infused brilliance of Hejira and Mingus — Joni Mitchell finally stumbled with 1985's Dog Eat Dog. Embracing glossy 1980s production, heavy synthesizers, and overt political themes, the album felt stiff and dated compared to her earlier work’s intimacy and fluidity. While not without flashes of lyrical sharpness, it marked the end of her remarkable creative streak and her uneasy adaptation to the MTV era.
10. Radiohead The King of Limbs (2011)
Radiohead had evolved brilliantly from The Bends (1995) to 2007's In Rainbows, reinventing rock along the way. Then came The King of Limbs: short, twitchy, and strangely unfinished. Built from loops and fragments, it had moments of brilliance ('Lotus Flower') but felt more like a sketchbook than a statement. For a band that thrived on seismic shifts, this was the first time the world muttered, “Is that it?” Even diehards struggled to call it essential.
11. R.E.M. Around the Sun (2004)
From their jangly indie beginnings (1983's Murmur) to 1992's luminous Automatic for the People, R.E.M. rarely faltered. But Around the Sun was the album that broke the spell. Bogged down by overproduction, sluggish tempos, and a lack of energy, it sounded like a band running on fumes. Even Michael Stipe admitted it lacked life. For a group once synonymous with vitality and invention, it was a dull stumble.
12. Prince Graffiti Bridge (1990)
Prince’s run from Dirty Mind through Sign o’ the Times was unstoppable. Then came Graffiti Bridge, a film soundtrack padded with leftovers and weaker tracks. While 'Thieves in the Temple' sparkled, much of it felt like filler. Worse, it was tied to a bizarre movie that flopped. Coming after Purple Rain and Parade, this was the first time critics felt Prince’s genius wobble.
13. The Moody Blues Octave (1978)
After a string of seven classic, concept-driven albums from 1967's Days of Future Passed through 1972's Seventh Sojourn, the Moody Blues’ 1978 comeback Octave marked a clear decline. Recorded after a five-year hiatus, it lacked the cohesion, adventurous production, and symphonic sweep of their golden era. Internal tensions and Mike Pinder’s impending departure hung over the sessions, leaving the album sounding tentative and uneven. Though commercially successful, Octave felt more like a tired reunion than a bold continuation of their pioneering streak.
14. Neil Young Hawks & Doves (1980)
After a decade of fearless invention — from After the Gold Rush and Harvest to the dark brilliance of Tonight’s the Night and Rust Never Sleeps — Neil Young’s 1980 Hawks & Doves felt like a comedown. Half cobbled together from leftover 1970s material, half filled with hastily recorded, flag-waving country songs, it lacked the daring, cohesion, and emotional intensity of his greatest work. While not without charm, it signalled the close of his astonishing 1970s creative streak.
15. David Bowie Tonight (1984)
After the sharp reinvention and irresistible energy of Let’s Dance — which, while not reaching the creative heights of, say, Aladdin Sane, Low or Scary Monsters, still bristled with hunger, urgency, and a sense of the moment — Bowie’s 1984 album Tonight felt like a disappointment. Largely a collection of covers, duets, and mid-tempo filler, it lacked the adventurous spirit and innovation that had defined his career. Critics and fans alike sensed Bowie drifting, lost amid the slick, commercial sheen of the mid-’80s, marking a low point after his triumphant reinvention.
What can we say? For every golden streak, there’s a breaking point. Sometimes these “off” albums gain new fans years later (Goats Head Soup now has defenders). Others remain cautionary tales of hubris, burnout, or miscalculation. But all of them prove the same point: even geniuses are human. And in some ways, the stumbles make the masterpieces shine brighter. After all, if brilliance came easy forever, we might take it for granted.
