Reviews by nevele

A gloriously bizarre sci-fi hip-hop concept album where the year 3030 doesn’t feel too far from our own. Del’s sharp, funny, and imaginative rhymes meet Dan the Automator’s inventive production: layering violins, trumpets, and cinematic sweeps over robot bleeps and beats, while Kid Koala’s turntablism adds wild bursts of personality. The interludes slow the pacing a bit as they do with many albums, but the creativity, worldbuilding, and sheer fun make this a must-hear for fans of hip-hop, sci-fi, or bands like Gorillaz.

This is my kind of mental

Joyful, vibrant, and bursting with life, WE ARE blends soul, R&B, gospel, and pop into a celebration of Black culture and resilience. It’s not perfect, but it’s impossible not to feel good while listening

I didn’t expect much, especially given that vocal style that's been haunting indie folk and rock for years now (constricted, airy, and a bit too polished). But damn, this one swept me away. From the first note to the last, it holds you in its grip.

Yes, it’s not wildly original. Yes, every song builds toward some sort of cathartic climax. But who cares when it’s executed this well? The songwriting is tight, the production expansive, and the emotional heft undeniable. It might not crack my personal top ten, but it’s still world-class.

I only wish it had a little more rawness, something their earlier albums did better. Still, I’ve played this six times in a row and counting over the last 24 hours. That says enough.

This is one of the best soundtracks I’ve ever heard. A moody, atmospheric masterpiece that somehow avoids all the dated traps of early-'80s synth. Sure, there’s some of that horny sax and glossy synth you’d expect, but here it works. It evokes noir, tension, and longing, exactly what the film needs, and becomes something entirely its own.

The original album (Disc 1) is stunning, with Tears in Rain and the End Titles standing out. Maybe skip One More Kiss, Dear. That 1930s crooner moment feels like someone wandered in from another record entirely.

Disc 2 on the 3-CD version is a brilliant expansion of the Blade Runner universe: deeper cuts, ambient textures, and lost fragments that could’ve been used in the film or a cyberpunk dream. Disc 3? Not for me. The orchestral reworkings strip away the grit and replace it with polite sheen. I’ll pass.

This isn’t just a soundtrack. It’s the moodboard for sci-fi ambience. I’m hearing echoes of this in every space sim I’ve ever played (Stellaris, Endless Space, Master of Orion etc.) they seem to all owe a debt. This is Vangelis at his absolute peak, leagues above Chariots of Fire and certainly above his other works.

Essential listening, even if you’ve never seen the film. This one should've been included on the original list, and I can think of dozens that could've made space for this one.

"If you’ve heard one Status Quo song, you’ve sort of heard them all."
And Piledriver doesn’t do much to challenge that reputation. Even with a little bit of a bluesy Unspoken Words ballad and a Doors cover. This is heads-down, no-nonsense British boogie rock.

To me, this is the soundtrack of rural beer barns back home in the East of the Netherlands. The farmer’s son turns the barn into a bar, the locals pile in on Friday night, down twenty beugeltjes of Grolsch, and nod along to Quo, AC/DC, and Motörhead.

It’s not bad. It’s just very… there. Nothing here upsets. Nothing here surprises. You already know what this album sounds like before the first track ends.

I get why this album was huge. It’s slick, radio-ready, and full of hooks that practically beg for a singalong. Or a line-dance. And there’s something to be said for how confidently it embraces pop sensibilities while still nodding to its country roots.

But for me, that glossy, overproduced sound just doesn’t land. I know it was part of that intentionally wide appeal;, accessible in music, lyrics, message and production. It's more about charisma and craft than deep lyrical insight. Shania knew this and has always said her albums were supposed to be just fun. She never considered herself a strong songwriter. I can respect the impact and the craftsmanship, but it's not something I ever feel the need to hear again.

Well, isn't this just the eye-opening listen, and a rare modern example of an album that truly feels like an album. Not just a collection of songs, but a carefully structured journey; cohesive, narrative, and full of intention.

At first, it unfolds like an acoustic folk record: intimate, fragile, and quietly beautiful. But Susanne Sundfør doesn't stay in one lane. By the title track, a strange, dystopian undercurrent emerges - subtle electronica, ambient noise, radio crackle - and suddenly the ground starts to shift. From there, the album gracefully drifts between genres, pulling in jazz touches, ambient textures, and eerie sci-fi detours. The effect is unsettling and powerful, like something ancient being swallowed by the future.

The album feels tender, yet haunted. And what's truly impressive is how it balances these sonic turns without ever losing emotional coherence. It’s thoughtful and well-crafted, a slow burn that rewards patience and close listening.

In a post-album era, this feels like a rare and deliberate work of art.

4,5*

Enema of the State is pop-punk 101: catchy hooks, juvenile lyrics, fast tempos, and a sense of bratty fun. It’s emblematic of a specific moment in late-'90s/early-2000s music culture, but it's not particularly groundbreaking or deep. Two massive singles gave it rocket fuel, but musically, there were much better bands doing this kind of thing with more bite and substance. It's fine. Just not essential. 3* for cultural impact, not musical innovation.

It feels more "western" than "country," if such a distinction even exists. Old No. 1 feels like saloon stories told with quiet grit and a well-worn acoustic.
Guy Clark has a knack for simple, well-crafted songwriting that doesn’t ask for attention. It’s not a favourite, but it’s far more listenable than most of the country that made the original list. Respectable, even if it won’t be on repeat.

This hit me like a train.

I didn’t know the band, and given the 2008 indie/folk/rock label, I braced for mediocrity. Instead, I got one of the most honest, beautiful, devastating albums I’ve heard in a long time. From the first listen, it stood out. Raw and direct but musically rich, full of conviction. And then, each repeat listen pulled me deeper.

The heart of the album is Scott Hutchison's voice. Both literal and emotional. His lyrics are blunt, confessional, and occasionally profane, but never gratuitous. Lines like “It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm” or “I think I’ll save suicide for another year” aren’t just provocative, they reach through the song and grab you by the throat.

The run of Keep Yourself Warm, Extrasupervery, and Poke is jaw-droppingly good.

This album will stay in my life for a long time. I’ve already introduced it to my wife, and she was just as floored as I was. It’s that kind of record: once you hear it, you want someone else to hear it too.

This one's loud, heavy, and simple, which isn't inherently a bad thing, but sound-wise, it is closer to Mudvayne than Pantera. Unfortunately, the band isn't nearly as good as Mudvayne. Or as Pantera. There’s groove and aggression, sure, but the songs just don’t have anything in terms of originality or staying power.
Lyrically? Blunt, sometimes dumb, and definitely lacking subtlety. The kind of album that tries to pump you up but leaves you with a shrug instead of a fist in the air. And the cover art is terrible as well.

Acceptable if you need something loud and don’t care too much about nuance. But honestly, Mudvayne, Nothingface and Pantera did this kind of thing better and with more purpose.

I was going to give this 2 stars, but as a user-submitted album for a list of must-hear records, this doesn’t just miss the mark—it actively weakens the argument for including more metal on the list. A missed opportunity and a wasted slot.

It's amazing how many different songs from different artists I was humming after this one. From Dire Straits to The Police. This is an album by teen idols who played to their crowd. With pretty juvenile lyrics and riffs taken from everywhere else.

Theatrical? Absolutely. At times, it veers into full Broadway territory. But there’s also undeniably strong songwriting here, the kind that demands attention even when the style might not be your thing.

“Is There Anybody Here?” channels Pink Floyd and Steven Wilson with eerie accuracy. “King of Swords (Reversed)” is almost a direct Talking Heads track: tight, danceable, strange in just the right way. And “Bitter Suite IV & V” could easily be mistaken for a Decemberists song, right down to the dramatic vocal phrasing and lyrical storytelling.

At points, it’s hard to tell whether these moments are homage or borderline mimicry. But it’s all so recognisable that it becomes oddly fascinating. Like musical cosplay done with reverence and skill.

This is not a casual listen. It's a sprawling, intricate rock opera filled with genre nods and theatrical bombast. But if you enjoy connecting the dots between influences, and don't mind a bit of drama, there’s a lot to appreciate here.

Oof, talk about dated. Human Racing is absolutely steeped in early 80s synth-pop aesthetics, and not always in a good way. That said, credit where it’s due: Kershaw at least wrote his own material, unlike many of the chart-topping ‘products’ that followed later in the decade.

Back in 1984, Nik Kershaw was everywhere; I even remember seeing him at Live Aid. But like many pop figures of that era, the fame was short-lived, and listening back now, it’s easy to see why. There’s not enough depth here to make the album timeless, and while some hooks are catchy, the production and songwriting feel very much of their time.

It’s not the worst thing to come out of the 80s by any means, but it hasn’t aged well.
And ultimately, it’s just not good enough to warrant rediscovery.

Some of these tracks had already won me over as singles, so hearing them together on Deep Down Happy, their debut, just confirms that Sports Team are an exciting band. I like some of the work after this as well. They’ve got clever, funny lyrics full of observational references to everyday English life, delivered by a charismatic frontman with just the right amount of swagger.

Musically, they’re not breaking new ground, this is rock that unapologetically harks back to the 2000s, but it feels fresh because it’s done with such energy, joy, and authenticity. It’s rock & roll that’s unpretentious and clearly made by people who love what they do.

This is glitchy chaos from 2012 and thus predating Arca’s collaborations with Kanye West (Yeezus), FKA twigs (LP1), and Björk (Vulnicura). This EP shows the early DNA of that fractured, futuristic, highly textured sound that would soon shape leftfield pop and hip-hop production.

On first contact, this can feel abrasive and alienating. And I think that's actually her goal with this. I'm adoring the last two songs

Either I’m not the target demographic, or this album just isn’t that good. After Hours is sleek, shiny, and completely overproduced. All glossy surfaces and little weight underneath. I knew going in to expect autotune and melodrama, but even by the standards of modern pop-R&B, this feels superficial.

Lyrically, it tries to hint at something darker, but rarely gets beyond vague clichés about loneliness and regret. Reviews seem desperate to mine depth out of thin air — one New York Times review even praised its “failed-state romantic dyspepsia.” I mean, come on.

This isn’t terrible. It’s catchy in places, and it’s got just enough retro synth and moody atmosphere to fill a coffee shop without offending anyone. But that’s kind of the problem. It’s the Coldplay of 2020: safe, omnipresent, and polished to the point of emptiness.

Not inventive. Not awful. Just… not for me.

So, someone’s already deep-dived into 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die - heard Pink Floyd's The Wall, heard several Queen albums, heard punk-rock, heard Franz Ferdinand, heard Muse - and then nominates The Black Parade as a missing entry on that list?

I know this album means the world to a certain generation, but musically, The Black Parade just brings nothing new. This is Queen cosplay with Offspring power chords, Boston-style layering, a Franz Ferdinand strut, and some Muse-lite drama. Just a (black) parade of overused tricks and predictable songwriting. For all the volume and ambition, I didn’t hear much originality.

I get the nostalgia, but on musical merit alone, I can’t say this belongs on the same shelf as the albums it imitates. It’s not offensive or unlistenable, it’s just not necessary. At least not outside its original moment.

The phonecall at the start sets the tone perfectly: this album is the soundtrack to cruising empty city streets after dark, bathed in neon and solitude.

The title track kicks things off with purpose; moody, minimal, and cinematic. “I Want Your Love” and the Kate Bush cover “Running Up That Hill” take the intensity down a notch, and for me, they break the spell a bit. But from “Killing Spree” onward, it regains its footing. “Healer” is excellent, and “Tomorrow Is So Far Away” might be my favourite track on the album—icy, melancholic, and beautifully restrained.

It all winds down with the slow 15-minute build of “Tick of the Clock,” which stretches time and lets the whole thing dissolve into atmosphere. It’s a fitting end.

It's some nice dark electro with a moody, gothy atmosphere that reminds me a bit of Kirlian Camera and while it’s not flawless, Night Drive is definitely something I’ll come back to.