Reviews by nevele

Yes, Tekkno is formulaic. Every track follows the same build-up, drop, breakdown, and hook... but that’s the point, isn't it? Songs like We Got the Moves are pure chaos and pure fun, and with the video it’s impossible not to smile. Especially with that heavy Gabber throwback in there. I’ve had that song on repeat for a while after seeing them live, which was an absolute party: loud, weird, and full of energy.

This album isn’t reinventing anything, but it doesn’t have to. It’s built for the mosh pit and the dance floor, for shouting along to the hooks, and for laughing at how ridiculous it all is. Sometimes that’s exactly what you want.

Daisies of the Galaxy is, for me, one of Eels’ finest moments, right up there with Electro-Shock Blues. When it came out, it was a shock after the dark and deeply emotional Electro-Shock Blues. The opening track feels like a New Orleans funeral march, and at first, I braced for another gut-wrenching journey. However, the tone shifts and reveals an album that appears lighter and friendlier on the surface.

Digging deeper, there’s still plenty of pain, even in the playful I Like Birds with its sadness about E’s mother dying of lung cancer. This is E telling us: it’s going to be OK. Deal with the pain. Get out of bed.

That’s why the standout for me is A Daisy Through Concrete. It’s the album’s theme distilled into one song: the anthem of getting up, and moving forward even when you don’t want to. The jazzy drumming and warm organ give it an effortless groove, and it has become one of the defining songs of my life.

"Wake up the dying,
don't wake up the dead
change what you're sayin,
Don't change what you've said
Now that it's time that
I got out of bed"

And then, just when you’re ready, the album ends on the euphoric Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues, one of the best “life goes on” closers ever.

Thank you to whoever submitted this album. It’s one I could have picked myself, and I’ll always keep it close.

Boogie-oogie-oogie-oogie-oogie-oogie-oogie-oogie

Dead Man’s Party is a lively, horn-driven slice of mid-80s new wave. “Just Another Day” stands out with its running synths and pumping bass, while the title track is a gleeful celebration of the macabre. “No One Lives Forever” and “Fool’s Paradise” keep the party mood going with big, catchy hooks.

It’s fun and energetic, but it carries that classic 80s urge to fill every moment with drums, horns, or loops. The result is catchy and entertaining and very much of its time, but it doesn’t quite rise above the crowded field of its peers.

While ambient falls just a bit outside of music I listen to regularly, this is obviously an amazing collaboration between Floating Points (Sam Shepherd), Pharoah Sanders, and the London Symphony Orchestra. The combination of jazz, electronics, and classical music is brilliant and well-executed. Pharoah Sanders’s performance is more subdued than his earlier, more energetic work, but the soulful, subtle sax is in service of the total sound.

I get why it was so widely lauded and appeared on so many end-of-year lists in 2021. The recurring theme is meditative, hypnotic, and calming.

And yet, the repetitive nature of the main motif is also its biggest drawback, making the album lose momentum after movement six.

This is a dense, energetic album that balances bright, intricate production with dark, anxious themes. “To The Blade” is a stunning opener: rapid-fire drums, sharp guitars, and a clear, busy mix that never feels cluttered. Songs like “Regret” (with its 80s-style chorus and choral backing) and “Blast Doors” (with its tempo shifts and lyric focus) are standouts that kept me engaged. “Fortune 500” provided an eerie breather and pulled me in with its hypnotic build, though tracks like “Get to Heaven” and “The Wheel (Is Turning Now)” didn't leave the same impression, not even after a few listens.

A bit like Foals meeting Muse meeting Duran Duran meeting Talking Heads. The mix of synth-wave, indie rock, and sharp rhythms works well, with a socially charged edge.
An album that thrives on its energy and its ability to make you move even while lyrically dealing with violence, media saturation, and chaos.

I knew some of the singles already, but very happy to have now discovered the full album.

A well-crafted collaboration between Hamilton Leithauser and Rostam. Leithauser’s voice is raw, lived-in, and soulful while Rostam’s production layers crisp guitars, driving drums, and airy textures that make the record feel timeless.

The album draws from doo-wop, soul, country, and folk, yet never feels retro for its own sake. Songs like Rough Going show off Vampire Weekend–style rhythms, and In a Black Out stands out, for me, as a dreamy ballad with strummed guitar.

Even though the atmosphere stays fairly consistent, each song brings its own character, and the differences reveal themselves more with repeated listens. Not every track is as strong as the next, but as a whole this is a solid album

A great album with african harmonies, layered rhythms, and that mix of lighter and darker tones that pull you in. Songs like Wait for the Summer feel warm and expansive, while Wait for the Wintertime shows the band’s darker and uneasy side. The voice sometimes drifts in the mix and you can't understand a word anymore, and not every melody sticks long after hearing it, but there’s enough intrigue, atmosphere, and creativity here to make it a compelling listen.

From what I can read here, this is beloved in the Red Dirt and Americana scene for its storytelling and warm, organic sound. But nothing like that stood out for me I'm afraid.

It leans heavily on genre tropes (heartbreak, small-town life, roads, etc.), and while the fiddle and guitar work are solid, the vocal delivery turns me off and keeps me at a distance. There are no standout tracks I’d return to, and it feels more like a well-executed genre exercise than an essential record.

Alexisonfire’s debut is all raw energy and youthful ambition, but it sounds like a band still figuring things out. The screamed vocals hit harder than the clean ones, which often feel out of tune and undercut the songs. The production is muddy, and while there’s plenty of intensity, there aren’t many standout tracks that stay with you. Historically interesting as the start of a major Canadian post-hardcore band, but musically it feels more like a demo with a band searching direction than an essential album.

I had never listened to McDonald and Giles before and only while listening found out they were two of the original members of King Crimson. But this really wasn’t like King Crimson’s darker, heavier sound: this was a melodic, very British record. It feels almost like an alternate history for Crimson, the path they might have taken had McDonald and Giles stayed and been given more room to shape the music by Fripp.

Ian McDonald’s multi-instrumental talents are everywhere: flute, saxophone, clarinet, and more. Michael Giles’ drumming is wonderfully fluid and jazzy, and Peter Giles’ bass playing is full of character. Together they make a rhythm section that’s smooth and playful, reminding me more of Caravan, early Soft Machine, or early Genesis than of Crimson’s brooding sound.

The album’s warm, Beatles-esque vibe is both its biggest charm and, at times, its weakness. It makes the music approachable, but can feel a little lightweight. You can hear that McDonald and Giles couldn’t quite find this groove within King Crimson: this is lighter, jazzier, and more pastoral than Fripp’s vision ever allowed.

I’m glad to have listened to it and grateful to the submitter for putting it on this list.

Not the most exciting or challenging jazz, but that’s the point. Chet is all atmosphere. I can wake up to this or drift off to it—perfectly balanced, never intrusive. The band is stellar (Miles Davis’s rhythm section on board!), giving the whole album a warm, melancholic glow. Not a showstopper, but one of those records that quietly gets under your skin.

Mellow, relaxed and very very safe

A defining ’90s alt-rock/ska record with undeniable classics. Just not really for me.

John Zorn meets Opeth meets Neurosis meets Jeff Buckley meets Pink Floyd meets Grindcore meets Jazz

I went into Lemonade not really knowing what to expect, other than that it’s considered one of the great albums of the 2010s. Four songs in, I completely understood why. This isn’t just a pop record — it’s a full emotional journey.

I was struck by how varied it is: from the breezy defiance of “Hold Up” to the venom of “Sorry” and the sheer power of “Freedom.” Even on first listen, it felt like a carefully constructed album rather than just a set of singles. There’s a confidence and joy here I wasn’t expecting, and it's much better than Beyoncé’s self-titled album that was on the original list.

This was a genuine surprise for me. I went in curious, I came out impressed . I’m actually looking forward to watching the accompanying film if I can find it, which isn’t something I thought I’d ever say about a Beyoncé record.

What an incredible submission. If we’re talking about albums that belong on the 1001 Albums list, this one should be non-negotiable. Love it or hate it, it’s a landmark and hugely influential to bands across genre's, from At the Drive-In, Glassjaw, Thursday to Rise Against, Enter Shikari and even Muse.

At first pass it sounds like a hardcore record, but at following listens you really get listening to the jazz breakdowns, drum & bass glitches, spoken-word manifestos, strings, and sheer chaos stitched into hardcore punk’s backbone. Refused deliberately set out to reinvent what punk and hardcore could be.

Of course still with that political bite that more than 25 years later doesn’t sound dated. You can hear the blueprint for modern punk and post-hardcore, metalcore, experimental punk, even electronic-heavy bands that came after.

Groundbreaking, deeply influential, and still an absolute thrill.

Kaizers Orchestra are one of the strange bands I love, and Maestro is a perfect reminder of why I’ve always had a soft spot for them. I loved the wild debut (Ompa til du Dør), didn’t really connect with the follow-up (Evig Pint), and had only heard this one once or twice back in the day. Coming back now, it’s clear I’d been missing out.

Musically, Maestro is heavier and louder than the debut, but it hasn’t lost any of that bizarre cocktail that defines the band: Tom Waits grit, klezmer horns, Zappa eccentricity, a dash of folk-punk chaos, and even hints of Einstürzende Neubauten’s clang. There’s still plenty of oompah swagger and East-European cabaret lurking in the corners, but here it’s shot through with more distortion and aggression.

Even without speaking a word of Norwegian, it’s impossible not to shout along by the third listen. Kaizers have always made language irrelevant, it's about energy, theater, and a slight willingness to embrace madness.

I don't think this one's as good as their debut, but still immensely enjoyable.

With four Pink Floyd albums already on the original 1001 list (Piper at the Gates of Dawn, Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, The Wall), it kinda makes sense that Animals was left out. Dimery probably thought Floyd’s arc was already covered: psychedelic beginnings, conceptual breakthrough, cultural juggernaut. Adding this one might have felt a bit redundant.

But that doesn't mean this isn't a 5* album. For one, it's their sharpest political statement, using Orwell’s Animal Farms' metaphor for modern society. The album is leaner, nastier, and a bit more more guitar-driven than much of their other work, with David Gilmour at his best.

So yes, maybe redundant in a list already heavy with Floyd. But musically, it’s indispensable. A masterpiece.

The Postal Service's Give Up is undeniably a landmark record. It was at the start of the early 2000s indietronica movement and the backstory of this album is as charming as it was forward-thinking. The idea of Ben Gibbard and Jimmy Tamborello building these songs through mailed files perfectly captures a very specific, pre-streaming 2003 ethos. For its cultural impact and the blueprint it laid down, it absolutely belongs on the 1001 essential list.

Yet, for all its historical importance, I’ve always been a bit indifferent to the album itself. One of my main hurdle remains Gibbard’s voice; it’s just a personal taste I’ve never been able to get past. That said, Tamborello’s production is the consistent win. His drum programming, those sharp bass punches, and all the little textured details are what truly keep it interesting for me. It’s less an electro record and more a pop one, powered by an energy that’s both endearing and now feels quintessentially of its time. That early-2000s indie shimmer that is equal parts nostalgic and slightly dated.

So, while this isn't an album I'll be spinning often, I absolutely get the reverence for it. It’s not totally my alley, but its influence on the wave of indie-electronic crossovers that followed is undeniable. 3.5*