Reviews by nevele

An eclectic and chaotic debut that somehow works. Crystal Castles throw Atari bleeps, punky vocal bursts, and icy synth lines into a blender, and the result is a mix of abrasive energy and oddly danceable tracks. Songs like Vanished show they could craft something more accessible, but much of the record thrives on tension and noise. It’s not subtle, and it’s certainly of its time, but it’s also inventive and a lot of fun.

Very much a product of its time: mid-2000s alt-rock, in the same orbit as Interpol or Radiohead’s more guitar-driven phases. And honestly, that comparison is fair with the heavy bass in the mix, Forty-five minutes is the right length for this album; it doesn’t overstay its welcome, and the more experimental touches in the second half keep it from becoming stale. Critics at the time mostly saw it as a solid, if not spectacular, effort, and I agree. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a strong, atmospheric album that was worth revisiting, even if it isn’t rewriting the book.

Dream Theater are really conservatory players with metal hearts, and Images and Words makes that obvious from the very first note. The technical brilliance is staggering: Petrucci, Moore, Myung, Portnoy, and newcomer James LaBrie all sound like they are born for this. The production is crystal clear, every riff and run perfectly audible, and “Pull Me Under” remains a classic that deserved its unlikely MTV run.

And yet, as much as I admire the skill, I’ve never fully connected to it. Too often the songs feel more like showcases of musicianship than pieces that grab you emotionally. It’s dazzling, but also distant. And at times it feels like fretwanking.

I get why this album is revered as the blueprint for modern prog-metal, and it absolutely earns its reputation for influence. But for me, it’s a 3.5* listen: impressive, but it never resonated.

The title track is of unearthly beauty, a slow build into one of Procol Harum’s finest songs. But after that opening statement, Side A stumbles under the weight of too much democracy.

My problem isn’t with the range of styles (I actually enjoy the mix of orchestral drama, nautical balladry, and pub-blues grit) but it’s with the decision to spread the vocals around. Gary Brooker was one of the great English rock singers, instantly recognizable and able to lift even a modest tune. Letting Robin Trower and Matthew Fisher take the mic dilutes that identity.

That said, the second half of the record definitely redeems itself. All This and More is classic Procol, complete with trombone flourishes, and even Crucifiction Lane (for all its questionable vocals) has a jagged piano and Hammond organ drive that works. The orchestration throughout is rich and ambitious, hinting at what Fisher was chasing with his Phil Spector-meets-Tchaikovsky sensibility.

Wreck of the Hesperus is a gorgeous Fisher composition, but it’s hard not to imagine how much stronger it would have been with Brooker singing lead. The same goes for Pilgrim’s Progress, which could have been a grand finale instead of a hymn-like ending.

A Salty Dog may be uneven, but at its peaks it shows why so many people consider it the band’s best.

When Oceanic came out in 2002, Isis weren’t yet at the level of their clear inspirations like Neurosis, but they were already pushing into something new. Alongside a handful of other bands, this album is one of the reasons post-metal became recognized as its own thing, rather than just an offshoot of sludge or doom. It's also why I think the submitter put this on the list. Listening back now, over 20 years later, you can hear both the growing pains and the ambition.

What strikes me most is how clear the ocean theme runs through it. Tracks like “The Beginning and the End” and “Weight” are massive and atmospheric, with long stretches that rise and fall like tides. The interludes, though, don’t always hold up as well. Some of them drag and lose that intensity. Not every song is equally strong, and at nearly an hour it can feel longer than it needs to.

But context matters. In 2002, this kind of expansive, cinematic heaviness was still carving out its own space. Isis weren’t just heavy; they were moody, conceptual, and willing to stretch songs into landscapes. You can hear how this set the stage for their later, stronger records like Panopticon or In The Essence Of Truth, which refined the formula into something breathtaking.

For me, Oceanic is an album I enjoy a lot, even with its flaws. It’s not quite a 5-star masterpiece, but it’s a landmark in post-metal, and a reminder of a time when this sound was still evolving and finding its identity.

Given the group’s counterculture image, I was expecting rough edges and risk-taking. Instead, the sound leans heavily toward the safe and formulaic. It’s decent indie-pop-punk with a few catchy moments. The DIY spirit is admirable, but musically, this one felt more like background listening than something essential.

I’ll admit it: for years I thought Death were just part of the “brutal, thrashy” side of metal that never clicked with me. I was wrong. Symbolic absolutely blew me away.

The first thing that hit me was the clarity of the production. Every riff, every melody line, every cymbal accent cuts through, which makes the music incredibly powerful. Gene Hoglan’s drumming is phenomenal here too: not the industrial precision I knew from Strapping Young Lad, but jazz-inflected, fluid, and constantly shifting. It gives the album a sense of motion and depth.

And then there’s Chuck Schuldiner. Knowing Death started out as the raw blueprint for death metal, it’s wild to hear how far he pushed his own band. The gore and shock I expected are long gone. On Symbolic the lyrics are reflective, human, even philosophical, paired with songwriting that balances brutality and beauty in a way that feels timeless.

This isn’t the pubescent metal I thought I was getting. Symbolic floored me. It’s melodic death metal done with precision, power, and intelligence. Now I understand why so many people call this not just Death’s peak, but one of the greatest metal albums ever.

I missed out in 1995. I’m glad I caught up now.

Holy Chaotic Hell and thank you to whomever submitted this. A new discovery for me.

At first, Nail feels like pure chaos, but by the second track you realise it’s brilliant chaos. “Throne of Agony” could pass for Bauhaus or early Nick Cave funneled through an industrial grinder, while “Pigswill” bangs together junk percussion, strings, and synths into something completely deranged but strangely addictive. “Descent Into the Inferno” might be the peak, a grotesque cabaret that’s equal parts hilarious and horrifying.

It’s wild to think this came from one guy in his early 20s, fresh out of Melbourne, hammering all of this together in London. You can hear Neubauten’s metal-bashing, Swans’ weight, and The Birthday Party’s chaos, but Thirlwell makes it his own with manic variety and a black sense of humor.

This isn’t background music. It’s abrasive, theatrical, and constantly on edge. But if you’re willing to go along for the ride, Nail is an underground gem that shows just how much fun industrial and noise rock could be.

I'm a convert

This album kicks off brilliantly. “In the Stone” and “Can’t Let Go” set the tone with pure disco-funk energy, and “Boogie Wonderland” iwill of course make you move. Even the ballads, like “After the Love Has Gone,” work far better here than on some of their earlier records, like the one on the original list.

But the album peaks early. The last three tracks don’t hold up to the sparkle of the opening run and drift into more middle-of-the-road funk.

A strong, danceable record, even if the momentum fades toward the end.

This one feels incredibly American, almost entirely tied to Florida and the Gulf Coast. Over here in Europe or Australia it barely made a ripple, but in the U.S. apparently it was the foundation of a whole subculture. Musically it’s a curious mix: part country twang and steel guitar, part island escapism with cowbell and calypso touches.

The highlight is clearly A Pirate Looks at Forty, which explains perfectly why it became his fan anthem. The rest of the record is fun and balanced, never sinking into the worst of Nashville gloss, but also not breaking new ground. A good listen, a cultural curiosity outside the U.S., and easy to understand why it was big at home.

It works well as background music, and I'll rate it, but I'll be honest and say that I possibly don't do the album justice enough with it. I'll give this another go listening and see where it'll take me. Might update rating later

This album has always split people, and I get why. For me it feels more like a sketchbook of creative outbursts than a fully developed whole. There are moments of beauty (33 “GOD” or 715 – CREEKS) but most of the tracks sound like half-finished experiments. I respect Vernon for taking risks with electronics and fractured production, but much of it leaves me cold.

His falsetto fits the glitchy, anxious atmosphere he’s going for, but it’s not a voice I enjoy over a full album. In the end, 22, A Million is bold, but it feels undercooked. I know some critics call it a masterpiece, in the same breath as Radiohead’s Kid A. But just like that album, it doesn’t work for me.

Don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy, I like him just fine...

But he is a mouth breather

This album has a huge gap between perceived ambition and actual songwriting depth.
There are touches that hint at experimentation, but the bones of the songs are pretty standard. And if you don’t buy into the bells, trumpets, tape loops, odd samples, and swelling orchestrations Loss is basically just early-2000s indie with some extra decoration.

The Cure’s most exciting period ran from Three Imaginary Boys (1979) through Wish (1992) — thirteen incredibly productive years. After 4:13 Dream (2008), which I’d put among their weaker albums, the band went silent in the studio for sixteen years. In that time, they toured endlessly while Robert Smith kept promising a new album. Finally, in 2024, Songs of a Lost World arrived.

The Cure have never shied away from long, slow-building intros, and they’re all over this record. At nearly fifty minutes across just eight tracks, it’s patient and heavy. But the moment Smith’s voice breaks through, you know instantly: The Cure still sound like The Cure. The tempos are slower, the raw bursts mostly gone, but what’s here is genuinely beautiful.

The album is subdued, steeped in grief and reflection. Smith’s unmistakable voice sits against thick, weighty arrangements, creating an atmosphere that feels both oppressive and strangely luminous. Mortality, loss, and fading time run through the lyrics, and the music mirrors it — layers of melancholy that manage to be haunting and gorgeous at once.

It might be their final album, and if it is, they’ve gone out on a high. Dark, reflective, and unhurried, Songs of a Lost World feels like a closing statement from one of the greatest bands of all time.

Even after 3 listens I can say that I expected more of an album studded with star musicians

I went in expecting a hip-hop record. What I got was a psychedelic funk odyssey. From the first moments it’s clear that Donald Glover is digging into Parliament, Funkadelic, Sly, Rick James, Prince - the whole 70s funk and soul canon - and then filtering it through a 2016 lens. Even the cover nods straight to Maggot Brain.

At first, it feels like a lot. There’s swampy guitars that sound like Hendrix, woozy Parliament grooves, smooth Marvin Gaye-style soul, and flashes of neo-soul à la D’Angelo. But on headphones, it all clicks: like someone else said in the reviews here: this is a journey record. The production is dense and layered, sometimes overwhelming, but always feels deliberate. The paranoia, love, and vulnerability running through the lyrics tie it all together, making it far more cohesive than it first appears.

It's eclectic but it works. It’s confident, clever, and full of little surprises. Redbone became the big hit, but the whole record rewards close listening.

I played the debut a lot back in the day, it was gritty and uptempo with some excellent lyrics. Version 2.0 never hooked me in the same way. Listening now, I get why: the production is slicker, the edges smoothed out, and some moments (like the “daddy-daddy-daddy” chorus on You Look So Fine) make my toes curl a bit.

That said, this is still perfectly listenable, and in places really strong. The increased electronic touches don’t bother me at all, in fact, they fit. Special is a classic, and The Trick Is to Keep Breathing stands as one of their best songs.

A solid record, but for me, it doesn’t capture the raw spark of their debut.

At first I wasn’t sure if Silence Yourself was a great post-punk statement, just a homage, or even kitsch. It sounds like it could have been pulled straight from 1986, with Siouxsie & the Banshees as the obvious touchstone.

A second, third, and consecutive listens revealed much more. The live-room production makes it feel like you’re standing right there in their rehearsal space, and that energy is infectious. You start hearing more PJ Harvey grit in there too.

Most of all, I realised this band is far more than a post-punk rebrand. The intensity of the playing and the bite of the lyrics turn this into a genuine powerhouse. It’s easy to see why the album earned such acclaim and landed high on so many end-of-year lists.

Great inclusion.

It’s a bit of a shock this wasn’t on the original 1001 list… until you remember R.E.M. already had four albums represented. With Green, Murmur, Document and Automatic For The People I think Robert Dimery ,for once, made the right choice in picking 4 albums that show R.E.M.'s growth over the years and are arguablyy better albums than this one.
While Losing My Religion is a song of such brilliance it almost drags the whole record up by itself, the rest isn’t quite in the same league. Belong and Near Wild Heaven are strong, but too many tracks lean toward filler.
I realised that I rarely grab this album if I want to listen to some R.E.M. And now, having gone through it a few times over the last days, I'm almost afraid to say that for me, this album would barely crack my personal R.E.M. Top 10.
Still, even an uneven R.E.M. record is better than most bands’ best.