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J.S.: Ugh — Judd loathed the word minimalism.

J.D.: But it’s a legitimate description of his style, isn’t it?

J.S.: It’s more of a shorthand label for his whole philosophy. In the early sixties, a number of artists were working in that vein, but Judd applied those ideas to sculpture, painting, furniture, and architecture. He coined the term specific object to describe his work and that of friends like Dan Flavin and John Chamberlain. It meant that when you looked at a fluorescent-light piece by Flavin that it was no longer a fixture, or hardware, or a familiar idea of sculpture. Boom! It’s a specific object. To me 101 Spring Street has become a specific object — a great one.

— Jerry Saltz and Justin Davidson on the Restoration of Donald Judd’s Loft

Noodly jazz fusion instrumentals? Absolutely. Soggy poetry and kid choirs? Yes, please. Clichés that a B-list teen-pop writer would discard? Bring it on. The duo has become so good at making records that I replay parts of “Random Access Memories” repeatedly while simultaneously thinking it is some of the worst music I’ve ever heard. Daft Punk engages the sound and the surface of music so lovingly that all seventy-five loony minutes of “Random Access Memories” feel fantastic, even when you are hearing music you might never seek out. This record raises a radical question: Does good music need to be good?

— Sasha Frere-Jones on Daft Punk’s “Random Access Memories”