Among music journalists and listeners alike, one of the most commonly asked questions is "what makes a perfect 10?" Often publications will reserve their 10s for only the most notorious of classic records, while some listeners may hand them out pretty easily to albums that "blow their minds."

The remaining few viewpoints can be summed up by either not believing a true 10 is possible or believing it is possible, but one has simply not been created yet. Notorious music reviewer Piero Scaruffi falls into the latter camp, and the fact that the only album he has awarded above a 9/10 is Captain Beefheart's "Trout Mask Replica" (awarded a 9.5/10) has become a huge meme in the music community.

Where do I stand? Well, I'm pretty selective, with only about twenty albums I consider 10s. I generally reserve my 10s for the records that resonate with me the most emotionally, rather than those that I perceive as perfect, for until recently, I didn't think perfect could exist. I've found I'm more likely to consider an album a 10 that is more clearly flawed, than in one that stands up more to an objective ear.

To give an example of what I mean, I'd like to take a look at the two best albums by the band The Microphones. The first being their commonly regarded magnum opus "The Glow Pt. 2" and the second being their final release "Mount Eerie." For me, "The Glow Pt. 2" is a 9 and "Mount Eerie" is a 10, however, when I look at them objectively I am aware that the former is the superior album.

"The Glow Pt. 2" is a longer record with much more sonic diversity and lyrical themes. Its blend of psychedelic folk and noisy lo-fi rock is one that has been lauded for nearly two decades now. On the other hand, "Mount Eerie" is much more abstract, and shorter, containing only five songs (one of which is the almost entirely instrumental seventeen-minute tribal ambient opener). The album focuses specifically on lead man Phil Elverum's struggle with existentialism in the face of the vastness of the universe, and eventual coming to terms with it.

It's clear to me that "The Glow Pt. " is better, for it does more with less wasted seconds, but I'm not drawn to it the way I'm drawn to "Mount Eerie." The way the album functions as one cohesive piece, flowing into each other perfectly, and it ends on the song "V. Universe," which is arguably the most beautiful song I've ever heard in my life. Its shortcomings are endearing to me. I love every minute of that opening track, and what it lacks in sonic diversity, it makes up for in differentiation by making each song sound so different from the rest.

With that ideology somewhat explained, I should move onto the dilemma of two albums I've come to consider 10s, both of which I instantly rated that upon first listen.

The first is "Uncanny Valley" by the band Stabscotch, a colossal 18 song, 1 hour and 45-minute long record. It combines post-hardcore, noise rock, avant-prog, and brutal prog into something insanely menacing and unpredictable. This absolutely falls into my usual "has flaws, but I love it for them" category, with songs like the nine minute woodwind-and-guitar-drone instrumental just coming out of no one and standing out entirely from a sonic perspective. Things like that are exactly what make it such an amazing listen.

Before touching on the next record, I'd like to look back at the title of this article, and reflect on the use of the term "perfect 10." I've made it clear so far that I don't think a 10 necessarily needs to be perfect. What's most important is your personal connection to the album. A 10 is the type of record that you would legitimately risk your life to save because it means so much to you.

So this brings us to the live version of Fishmans' album, "Long Season," from their "98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare " performance. On Long Season, Fishmans combine ambient, progressive pop, dub, and neo-psychedelia into a 40-minute album that is technically just one long dynamic song. The live version I'm discussing quite frankly fixes any flaws from the studio version of the record, and has made for what I wholeheartedly feel to be the first flawless album I have ever heard. It uses infallible simplicity to create something incredibly grand.

This is something I've struggled with, as when I listen to this album I genuinely cannot find anything wrong with it. It is a perfect listening experience for me. When I first heard it, I didn't know how to react other than to give it a 10 for just how impeccable and emotionally resonant it was. It has completely thrown a wrench into my view of what a 10 is, as I have legitimately found a "perfect" 10.

Does this mean I have to reevaluate my previous 10s in order to reflect the objective and subjective superiority that "Long Season" possesses? How can "Uncanny Valley," a work I find endearing for its indulgences, possibly bear the same score as one I view as perfect, on top of carrying the same personal connection?

I have always believed that a 10 can exist, but I've always considered it to be a personal thing. I think this is what causes so much contention around the subject, as people muddle the meanings of a subjective 10 and being objectively perfect. I've thought a perfect piece of music was possible, did not believe one existed until hearing the live version of "Long Season." As such, I'm being forced to alter my stance. If perfection is attainable, my scoring must reflect that, reserving the top spot for that perfect 10.

So what of the rest of my 10s? I'm not entirely sure what I will do. As I've said, I think it does live "Long Season" a lack of justice to be given the same score as a set of works I view as imperfect, so I think I will be forced to re-listen to many of them to see if the emotional draw can do enough to outweigh their shortcomings, no matter how much I have come to cherish them.

What do you think? Should scoring be made from a subjective/emotional perspective based on the deepest connections the listener has, or should that 10/10 be reserved for a truly perfect piece of music?