Reviews by deksametazon

The epitome of blowing your brains out with cocaine. But y'know, it's Bowie, so he took it ten notches above what any regular person could do strung out on coke.

Bowie took the sound of Young Americans and put it under a microscope and dissected it to such lengths, that he made a new dystopian sound with the vigor and power of a charismatic dictator.

The opener is marvelous, with its multi facetted suite approach that gives some progressive rock tracks a run for their money, but I want to talk about my favorite track off here, the cover of Wild is The Wind. It's probably the first track where you can feel Bowie's mutilated personality come off and reveal the detached genius truly struggling. Everything in between is nothing short of amazing in a haunting, concerning and frightening way. Not my apsolute favorite Bowie album, but it's up there.

This album feels like the twilight between the nocturnal artistic Bowie and the daytime pop superstar Bowie.

It's firmly rooted in the arty rock era of Bowie, with atmospheric tracks that alternate between melancholia and euphoria, like "Ashes to Ashes" and "Teenage Wildlife." However, unlike the albums that preceded it, this one is by far the most mainstream-oriented of the bunch, primarily due to the bubbling cauldron of new wave music at the tail end of the 70s and the beginning of the 80s, evident in those synths and overall tone.

Even though the album is waist-deep in new wave, it still demonstrates that Bowie had the expertise to distill the best parts from it and create what is probably his last great album until "Blackstar." Maybe Bowie should be the litmus test for evaluating how good an up-and-coming genre is?

My ex absolutely adored this album. And while I'm a much bigger fan of the other well known Berlin Bowie album, this one is equally good, if not better in some aspects.

A lot less pop orientated, side A has this neurotic, coming down from a high, fuzzy electronic feel with David pretty much nailing how it feels to be alienated and lonely when you're a little too much in tune with your surrounding, while the B side is just as sad and evocative of those same feelings, but this time without Bowie's singing and with a lot of SYNTHS BABY!

A philosophical statement of an album.

The more I listen to David Bowie, the more I'm convinced he could create masterpieces out of thin air, if he wanted to. A very imaginative project all in all that encompasses the impressive range of creativity that is David's career.

The main things that blew me away were the tight drumming, and how effortlessly David approaches the ominous and vulgar subject of death with a level of sincerity and honesty that's only similarly been done by Leonard Cohen. Sue is a bit of a let-down, mostly because it lacks the level of depth and edge which can be attributed to it not being a part of the main Blackstar recording sessions, but the rest of it is good, and the more you listen to it, it gets better and better. Lazarus is the top song, with its straight to the point experience of being at the edge of life, while the opener and closer are close seconds, both on the opposite of the spectrum: the former being a firm, dark grasp from the underworld, while the latter, a gentle ascension.

From the moment I got deeper into music, I thought of this album as being overrated by Bowie's death, but not after listening to it. It would be as good if David hadn't passed away untimely.

What an album. Americana glam, baby! It's the first album after Bowie captured the hearts of many, and naturally, he couldn't cope with it, so he made an album that illustrates the charms of being disillusioned and weirded by it, while coincidentally also pulling influences from one of the weirdest countries on the planet.

It's basically Ziggy 2, but with more grit and paranoia, a lot of cocaine and... Rolling Stones worship. The guitars soar even more, the sounds of outback America make an appearance with harmonicas and bluesy licks, and Bowie's theatrics are now more than just theatrics. They turn... real, ripe with venomous power in his vocals and lyrics, scarily inching towards the inevitable breakdown his stardom would bring.

Of course, no album could replicate the power Ziggy had, but Aladdin Sane does its best at taking what worked on the previous album and adding new facets and expanding the horizons the way only Bowie knew.

Orpheus Listening Challenge 2023: #21 An album that mentions the concept of time in the title (7th album)

At times it feels like Bowie is being forced with a gun on his forehead to adhere to the alt-rock/downtempo craze of the 90s. Most of the moments on here go in one ear, and out of the other, and the moments that do stick, stick for the wrong reasons, like the autotune, synth ending in "Something in The Air". It's a shame to say that Bowie was absolutely uninspired during the making of this album. I can feel his mind going: "OK. If I listen to some of my classics like Low, Heroes, and Ziggy, and add a modern instrumental over it, that should bring back my old fans, plus bring in the kids!". Sadly, that isn't the case.

Listening to this surprises me that Bowie didn't make an all-out grunge album.

Orpheus Listening Challenge 2024: #33 An album featuring children (38th album)

What made Bijelo Dugme produce this album is still a mystery. It's probably a product of a tumultuous time for the band in the early 80s, where they struggled to find their footing amongst the new and budding stars of the new wave movement.

In short, Goran Bregović had an idea to record an album for a children's TV show with Seid Memic Vajta, a multifaceted singer, but instead got an 11-year-old kid as a substitiution adter Vajta canceled due to personal reasons. What we got is a cruel experiment that scrapes the membranes of my ears. Children's music with the backing of Bijelo Dugme? It's as bad as the idea sounds on paper. But hey, a product of a moment at its finest.

I have well outgrown my stoner rock/metal phase, so I can go into this album and review with at least some level of objectiveness.

This trio of Japanese hard rockers have quite a catalog under their belt, some of which I've heard, some of which I haven't (and probably never will) but Akuma No Uta stands as that release that's easily accessible and readily loveable, but it's a whole lot frustrating to champion. Usually I'm a fan of exploration of different moods in a single album. It tells me how much an artist is capable of thinking, or better yet, in how many directions (and how far) can he take me in a limited time frame.

Akuma No Uta has that painful quality of letting you off the chain with its powerful blend of punk and noise rock like on Ibitsu, but yanking your chain and keeping you on your leash on, let's say, Introduction. Hell, even Naki Kyoku, the longest song on here, is only beautiful because of the structure switch later on.

But that's the reason I'M not regularly listening to it. This sure as hell is a good album, really no doubt about it, it's just that I find myself returning to a song here and there, rather than listening to it front to back.

It's easy to get lost in this album. Lots of tropicalia, and microdoses of psychedelia enough to transport you to the beaches of Rio.

The songs are jingle-esque, in that they are short and concise (15 songs in 30 minutes), with some being sugary instrumentals, some following the rock formula, and others being intimate folk songs. At moments, that can be a bit tiresome: the songs switch up the mood almost at a speed of switching TV channels, but at least similar songs tend to follow each other, and not jump around all over the place.

Nothing special. It's neither here nor there. It's as good as mainstream 70s-80s new wave gets, which is evident in the rating.

This is what floating on a sinking ship probably feels like. Will Oldham still firmly believes in his ideals he set with his earlier albums. Living with The Darkness as a roommate, and the whole nine yards: the bad-bad and the bad with the rose-tinted glasses, if you catch my drift.

Some tracks are great, while others a more of a filler, than anything, which doesn't help, considering the mood it sets. The middle sags a bit, with the ending and beginning having some real punch in it. A bit hopeless, and a bit like a drunken singer at the end of the night. Shame the middle is a bit nonsensical and numbing, really kills the flame.

Tommy Bolin is a good musician: great guitarist, and good vocalist, but most importantly, he was a vastly creative person, not really staying in one spot with each song. I've kinda passed my 70s hard rock phase, so this for me is objectively good, but lacking any charm appliable today.

I've always maintained the fact that Sarajevo was never (and will never be) on the same level as Belgrade or Zagreb in terms of musical output (or any kind of anything really). But I also maintain that even if the output was relatively small compared to other cities, it had a higher percentage of bands that mattered in the grand scheme of things. Case in point, Bolero.

Bolero was a band from Sarajevo that was led by guitarist (and occasional vocalist) Mišo Bartulica and vocalist Mile Anđelić, alongside a rotating cast of musicians. After the relative success of their first album,, the band returned to the studio to make their second, and final album, which was also their opus, objectively speaking.

The album is an artistic homage to one of the greatest Russian writers and poets Sergei Yesenin, and it is obvious because of the tinges of Russian folk melodies and the inclusion of lyrics of Yesenin himself. The album is top-notch from beginning to end, having ballad-ish songs like "Jelena", "Košćate Ruke", more upbeat pop-rock songs like "O Jesenjinu", "Sviri Harmoniko Tugo, Tugo" and "Konjuh Planinom", and sadder songs like "Krčmarska Moskva" "Zašto Umiru Proleteri" and "Pismo Majci".

The thing that differentiates this album from any other, is the amazing, soaring vocals of Mile Anđelić (who SHOULD be talked about in the same vein as vocalists such as Bebek, Vajta, Tifa, and so on), who was the heart of Bolero, while Bartulica was the brain behind the lyricism and musical arrangments, and the operatic feel of the album as a whole. Listening to it, you feel as if you are sitting in a theater watching a play about the life of Yesenin, with erratic instrumentals that are probably only matched by the S-tier bands in Yugoslavia.

Though it is really sad that this band isn't more known among art folks beyond Sarajevo, as it is one of the crowning achievements of Yugoslavian music. If you're into the artier side of Yugo rock, this album should not be skipped. Recommend everything on here.

When you get past "Mãe natureza" and its apocalyptic electronic sounds, you get treated with some very beautiful and calming acoustic guitar playing, alongside some occasional vocal work reminiscent of early Tete Espindola. It's like Getz/Gilberto, minus the lounge feel it brings.

I wish the woman stuck around more, because her voice brings the album to a new level, and the songs on which she serenades are the best, but at least Boccia's guitar playing has that Joe Pass quality to him, in that his strokes on the guitar paint a very vivid and calming picture.

Bluetile Lounge plays a beautiful brand of post-rock slowcore.

Unlike their colleagues from across the Pacific, these guys play warm slowcore. The triple guitar setup gives the band space to layer themselves on top of each other any way they desire, and the lyrics all sound like a rock slowly being pressed on your chest.

Definitely not an album that has that arterial bleed of emotion, but an album that has emotion slowly roll down the cheek in the dark.

A bit underwhelming, but still alright in my book. Could've been longer, had fewer covers and more rockers (which they had under their belt at this point!). But for what it's worth, they played the songs really well, adding something new to the table. I was underwhelmed by the production though, the sound could've been beefier, especially on Don't Fear The Reaper during the crescendo.

On this album, The Cult transcends the status of 2nd tier Black Sabbath and enter their own little coven inside the 70s rock era. Bloom and A. Bouchard took the lyrics that made them stand out and kicked it up a notch, tightening it all up by shaping up picturesque storylines while not letting go of their hard, metallic sound.

What separates this album from their earlier catalog, was how much they touched up on the fractured reality humanity was heading towards: consumerism, wars, and multi-faced dealings in our society. All covered with the veil of grotesque, and sometimes villainous, lyrics.

For good reason, it's always put in the upper echelon of BOC albums. To me, it's third behind their debut and Fire Of Unknown Origins, but in terms of being original, vicious, hard rocking and even emotional, no album of their comes close. It started their "commercial" phase for a reason, y'know. And I'm glad they got some level of recognition in their prime.

The last BOC album from their most famous lineup of Dharma, Bloom, Lanier and the Bouchard brothers is their most consistent and most intriguing album since Secret Treaties.

It's a return to the "old-school" brand of occult rock with a simplistic AOR backside that makes it an absolute joy to revisit each time. Those first four tracks are evergreens worthy the price of admission. Burnin For You is a banging song, while Veterans of the Psychic War is one of favorites from their catalog. The story cuts deep, and the thumping and mysterious instrumental adds to the atmosphere. The only minus I have is the Heavy Metal song which is a bit corny, but hey, it's on the end of one side, so I can just skip it if I like.

I really like it. Those who know me, know that I'm a sucker for philosophy in music, while not being overindulgent at the same time, and this is just the right amount of self introspection and a penchant for cock-rock. Their last hurrah after which the band would sink even further down into pop territory.

A really weird album. Even weirder than the pop-oriented Mirrors. It's decent, but it tries to be something it isn't. It takes all the sci-fi from the previous albums and tries to cultivate a more upbeat mainstream pop sound using those themes, and ends up sounding like a cheesy horror movie instead of a mysterious cosmic monster. Lacks the atmosphere that made some of their earlier albums, and their songs, memorable. At least MIrrors was clear with its intents.

The only saving grace for this album is:
1. The album cover. Arguably their best.
2. It's a solid predecessor to their next album, on which they will find the sweet spot.

Other than that, nothing.

The Örigins of the almighty Öyster began in the late 60s, but in 1972 it officially got its start with the debut s/t. A transitional album from their 60s psych era, most of the songs come from that time, albeit in a re-recorded fashion that fit the style of the time.

Boasting songs with strong hard rock basis mixed with a dash of psychedelia, atmospheric passages and some faster, heavier moments that lean on metal, from the moment I heard it, it became one of my favorite hard rock albums.

It does lack the mythological aspect that the band would be known for, but honestly it doesn't need it, and that tells you a lot about the band's ability to make good rockers without relying on a gimmick.