Reviews by nevele

“Every band that wanted to sound ‘cool’ between 2002–2006 ripped off Entertainment!.”

Even after 1086 albums on this list, Entertainment! hits like a revelation. Furious bass, jagged guitar, mechanical drums, and razor-sharp political bite — Gang of Four sound both feral and precise. You can hear their influence on bands like Bloc Party and Franz Ferdinand, but nothing matches the raw, dangerous energy here. Standouts like "Natural’s Not In It" and "Damaged Goods" make this a 5-star classic and one of the best surprises of the whole 1001 journey.

A little bit of Orbison, a snuff of Cash, and a little pinch of Sinatra.
But then artificial beauty instead of the warmth I was hoping for.

A highly enjoyable new wave album. I actually knew two songs, and never knew who they were from. Glad I found this band. From Brisbane even!

I would give this 4* as a soundtrack and 2* as a regular album.

I was curious about Call of the Valley—I'd heard a lot about it. So I put it on via Spotify… and honestly, after a few minutes I was thinking: what is this kitschy mess? Total new age noodling with vague flute sounds and sparkly synths slapped on top. For a moment I thought I was listening to the worst album ever.

Luckily, it turned out I’d accidentally landed on some kind of 2012 re-recording, made by Shivkumar Sharma’s son. That version? You can completely skip it—total waste of time.

Eventually, I found the original from 1967—first on YouTube, and a few months later I even came across a copy in a second-hand record store here in Melbourne. That’s the real deal.

It’s a beautifully understated album, and I totally get why it’s seen as a classic of the genre. Classical Indian music like you rarely hear anymore: pure, unadorned, and not yet fully influenced by Western or Bollywood-style sounds—apart from the use of a slide guitar. The combination of santoor, bansuri (bamboo flute), and slide guitar is super melodic and works surprisingly well.

Highly recommended for anyone curious about Indian classical music but not sure where to start. Just make sure you’re listening to the right version.

That hushed, breathy singing style — half-whisper, half-pant — was fresh on the debut, but by the third album it feels corny and restrained.
And while Jamie xx’s fingerprints are more visible, most tracks feel more like exercises in clever production than songs with real bite or urgency.

An interesting mix

I tried, I really did.

This album feels like a desert road trip with the radio picking up ghost signals from every direction. It fuses alt-country, mariachi, jazz, and indie rock into something that’s cinematic without being showy. Two favourites are “Sunken Waltz” ; a dusty, accordion-laced opener that hits with quiet poetry, and “Black Heart” which crawls under your skin like a slow-burning western noir.

The album is a slow-grower due to the blend of styles, but once it clicked, it’s marvellous.

Personally I don't understand all the hate this album send to be getting here.

Revered by audiophiles and musicians alike, Aja is often praised as a masterclass in studio craftsmanship. Its pristine production, jazz-inflected chord progressions, and flawless performances leave little room for error.
Or for any kind of soul.

The album dazzles, but rarely connects. Beneath its glossy surface lie clever, cryptic lyrics and impeccable arrangements, yet it all feels emotionally empty.

It’s like the difference between a brilliant essay and a poem that wrecks you. One impresses, the other inhabits. Aja may be the former: smart, sophisticated, untouchable—but for me, completely unmoving.

It has all the things I like in HipHop. Great lyrics, music to support the message, loose basslines.
And still, it never grabs me by the throat.

At face value, The Black Album is Metallica’s clean break from their thrash roots—a sleek, mid-tempo monster built for arenas rather than underground acclaim. With its punchy production (courtesy of Bob Rock) and stadium-sized hooks, it’s no wonder tracks like “Enter Sandman” and “Sad But True” became metal radio staples. But for all its polish, the album often feels front-loaded and creatively restrained—until its final act.

And this is my love letter to the last three tracks—“My Friend of Misery,” “The Struggle Within,” and the seething “The God That Failed”—where the album begins to shine with real depth. These songs pull back the curtain on something darker, more introspective. There’s more texture here. More space. Less of the lurching, mid-tempo groove that dominates the album’s first half.
These songs feel like the band is allowing itself to explore again, not just simplify.
“My Friend of Misery” builds from that haunting bass intro into existential bitterness. “The Struggle Within” is a rare return to internal chaos, driven by speed and snarl. “The God That Failed,” meanwhile, delivers one of James Hetfield’s most personal performances, grappling with loss and betrayal in devastating clarity.

These final moments hint at the album that could have been—one less focused on mainstream dominance, and more invested in emotional complexity and sonic exploration. Rather than just streamlining their sound, Metallica seemed, briefly, to be cracking open their core and letting something raw leak through.

For a lot of you here, The Black Album starts with a bang. But for me, it’s the final third that saves it—from mediocrity, from predictability, and perhaps even from itself.

"Touch Me I’m Sick" is of course, a raw, aggressive anthem that became one of the defining songs of grunge. The whole EP is still a very punk-infused grunge before a lot of it turned metal. Fun album

Swordfishtrombones marks Tom Waits’ bold departure from his familiar jazz-blues-barroom roots, plunging headfirst into a clattering, surreal carnival of sound. With clanging marimbas, woozy horns, and absurdist spoken-word vignettes, Waits conjures a shadowy world of drifters, grifters, and sideshow misfits. Drawing inspiration from Captain Beefheart’s dissonant blues and the grotesque wonder of Todd Browning’s Freaks—where he met Kathleen Brennan, his future wife and creative catalyst—Waits embraces experimentation with fearless abandon.

Tracks like the chaotic “16 Shells From a Thirty-Ought Six” and the darkly comic “Frank’s Wild Years” revel in their lunacy, while more restrained pieces like the tender “Johnsburg, Illinois” and the mournful “Soldier’s Things” remind us of Waits’ gift for emotional intimacy.

This is an album built on contrasts: industrial clang meets drunken jazz, growls melt into murmurs, and chaos dances with vulnerability. For all its eccentricity, Swordfishtrombones remains deeply human—a dreamlike travelogue through the back alleys of Waits’ imagination. It’s the sound of an artist breaking free, and in doing so, creating one of the most daring and unforgettable records of his career. Essential listening for anyone drawn to music that’s bold, bizarre, and vividly alive.

I feel the same way about this album as I did with John Frusciante's solo work. There are flashes of genius amid the drugs and pain, but sometimes you'll have to search for them.

You're allowed to have fun with this carnival punk album. I also recommend looking at the album's backside artwork to see how seriously they took themselves (not at all). It's a fun punk album.

Truly, the best thing about this album is the cover-art.

So many great musicians in a band, such a forgettable experience.
I've known this album since its release, and I really did give it a good couple of listens over the last day, but nothing sticks or stands out.

Alien Lanes is at once defiant and self-sabotaging, full of glorious hooks and deliberate sonic blemishes. a lo-fi indie rock masterpiece—28 scrappy, hook-filled songs crammed into 41 minutes. It was darker and more chaotic than breakout Bee Thousand, so it was polarizing even among fans, besides being less commercially successful.

While the album attempts to capture the band's live energy, it also reveals Pollard's anxieties about fame and the music industry.

To me, this is a defiant, beer-soaked triumph of DIY spirit over polish.

When I finally go on my reggae/dub discovery, I'll make sure to add this album to the list. But as it stands, it's one of the better reggae albums I've heard, but don't know enough to tell you if it's good or bad.