The first album on this user-generated list already surpasses almost anything that was classed World Music in the original 1001 list. Organic, deeply rooted sound that isn’t filtered through Western pop sensibilities. Superb start.
I was deep into Tori Amos 30 years ago, and Under the Pink was a key part of my musical experiences. If Little Earthquakes was raw emotion, Under the Pink is its more polished, possibly more powerful sibling—helped enormously by the stunning production. Back then, “Pretty Good Year” was the standout for me. Now, after a relisten, it’s “God” and “Past the Mission” that really hit. “God” especially—what a wild, unpredictable piece. No two notes land where you expect, yet it’s all held together by her voice and conviction. Slower tracks like “Icicle” and “Bells for Her” still shimmer too. This one holds up—smart, emotional, strange in all the right ways. A reminder of how far-reaching and fearless she was (and still sounds). 4,5*
What an album. In retrospect, this might be the best rock record of 2017. At first, it feels like a confident blend of Springsteen’s open-hearted rock and The National’s poetic introspection. But as the album progresses, the Springsteen-esque energy gives way to slower, string-laden ballads, and that journey—from swaggering to reflective—is what helps justify its nearly 80-minute runtime. David Le’aupepe’s voice carries it all: deep, rich, emotional, and not afraid to belt it out when needed. He’s clearly been through a lot (seriously, look him up), and this album feels like a cathartic purge—ending with titles like “Our Time Is Short” and “Say Yes to Life,” it's got soul and affirmation in equal measure. Sure, Gang of Youths cranks the grandeur knobs, and occasionally goes overboard with strings or cinematic flourishes—but the melodies, hooks, and feel-good energy are so strong, it’s hard not to get swept up. And above all, it’s performed with passion and heart. No idea how this album passed me by for so long.
The first album on this user-generated list already surpasses almost anything that was classed World Music in the original 1001 list. Organic, deeply rooted sound that isn’t filtered through Western pop sensibilities. Superb start.
A highlight in the electronic Krautrock. It seems to have all the basic ingredients that would make electronic music big about 15 years later
It's a chaotic, horror-obsessed blast of psych-rock and garage energy, full of songs about zombies, vampires, the devil, and aliens. there's definitely some psychosis at work.
It's not bad, but John Martyn for me is always a story of never rising above mediocrity
Didn’t seem like my thing at first—too sweet, too much autotune—but a few tracks in the second half like “Unfold” pulled me back in. Not sure yet, but there’s something here. I'll give it another go and maybe it'll grow on me.
The kind of band where deep fandom hinges on live context, inside jokes, and patience for extended improvisation. The crowd’s enthusiastic clapping at the start of Stash is pure “you had to be there,” and if you weren’t, it’s more alienating than inviting. Like listening to a cult. And the fretwanking goes from “interesting detour” to “where are we even going with this?” real quick.
I was deep into Tori Amos 30 years ago, and Under the Pink was a key part of my musical experiences. If Little Earthquakes was raw emotion, Under the Pink is its more polished, possibly more powerful sibling—helped enormously by the stunning production. Back then, “Pretty Good Year” was the standout for me. Now, after a relisten, it’s “God” and “Past the Mission” that really hit. “God” especially—what a wild, unpredictable piece. No two notes land where you expect, yet it’s all held together by her voice and conviction. Slower tracks like “Icicle” and “Bells for Her” still shimmer too. This one holds up—smart, emotional, strange in all the right ways. A reminder of how far-reaching and fearless she was (and still sounds). 4,5*
I was going to write a whole thing down but thought better of it. Marillion will just never be for me.
Listened 4–5 times over 24 hours and… still conflicted. The musicianship? Undeniable. The first two tracks—What About Me? and Shofukan—landed hard with their tight grooves and rich, layered production (at times giving off Mars Volta vibes, which I dig). But as the album went on, the endless solos started to blur together. Technically dazzling, sure, but emotionally? I'm not sure it's talking to me. Maybe they're expressing something deeply felt—or maybe I'm just not wired to receive it. Still, I get why people love it. I just don’t know if I ever will quite love it myself.
I'll admit Fontaines D.C. never really made it onto my regular rotation, though I’ve always liked the singles. I've listened to all albums since Dogrel, but hadn't heard this one yet. So I went into Romance curious—would it bring that same post-punk punch? Yes and no. The spiky post-punk sound is mostly gone (only “Here’s the Thing” and “Death Kink” echo that older style), replaced by a broader sonic palette: Britpop, shoegaze, '90s alt-rock, indie, even hints of orchestral pop. And yet, it still sounds like Fontaines D.C., largely thanks to Grian Chatten’s unmistakable vocals. Honestly, I think this shift works in their favour—great bands grow beyond the genres they started in. There are real highlights here: “Starbuster,” “In the Modern World,” and the jangly, Smiths-like “Favourite” are standouts—each one distinct and memorable. But I don’t hear the masterpiece that some others seem to. Tracks like “Desire,” “Horseness Is the Whatness,” and “Motorcycle Boy” just don’t stick, and others like “Sundowner” or “Bug” are decent but not revelatory. Still, Romance feels stronger than their last two albums, and maybe even on par with Dogrel. It’s a confident reinvention that might explain why Fontaines D.C. have become the post-punk flag-bearers of their era.
What an album. In retrospect, this might be the best rock record of 2017. At first, it feels like a confident blend of Springsteen’s open-hearted rock and The National’s poetic introspection. But as the album progresses, the Springsteen-esque energy gives way to slower, string-laden ballads, and that journey—from swaggering to reflective—is what helps justify its nearly 80-minute runtime. David Le’aupepe’s voice carries it all: deep, rich, emotional, and not afraid to belt it out when needed. He’s clearly been through a lot (seriously, look him up), and this album feels like a cathartic purge—ending with titles like “Our Time Is Short” and “Say Yes to Life,” it's got soul and affirmation in equal measure. Sure, Gang of Youths cranks the grandeur knobs, and occasionally goes overboard with strings or cinematic flourishes—but the melodies, hooks, and feel-good energy are so strong, it’s hard not to get swept up. And above all, it’s performed with passion and heart. No idea how this album passed me by for so long.
FREAKS TO THE FRONT! An album I know inside-out and one that hits like a punk rock bolt from the blue. Comfort to Me is loud, raw, and totally unpretentious — a hurricane of fresh punk energy paired with direct, no-nonsense lyrics that don't care about literary polish. And that’s exactly the point. Beyond the sound, this one’s personal. After 262 days of lockdown in Melbourne, they were one of the local bands to hit the stage at the Play On Victoria gig in 2021 — and the crowd needed that chaos. Amyl & the Sniffers made sure we got it. The Sidney Myer Bowl crowd of 4000 got as rowdy as possible with masked faces and aching feet — and when the band kicked off, something shifted. It wasn’t just a show; it was a city exhaling. Every track here is tight, forceful, and urgent, and Amy Taylor is an absolute star — unfiltered, charismatic, and commanding. Comfort to Me doesn’t try to be clever; it tries to be real. And it nails it. It's just punk as fuck.
This is a confident, genre-hopping debut that shows Valerie June’s range and charm, but also struggles a bit with coherence. There’s no denying the talent here: the songwriting is strong, the voice is distinct (if not for everyone), and there’s a heartfelt musical curiosity in every track. Produced by Dan Auerbach (the Black Keys guy), the album has that retro, lo-fi 60s sound. But now, more than a decade on, it also dates the album a little. It’s the kind of nostalgic production that can slide into kitsch, and I found myself wondering on several occasions how these songs might’ve sounded with a more modern or timeless sound. Valerie June clearly has a deep love for blues, folk, soul, country, and gospel, and she pours it all into this album. The downside is that it sometimes feels more like a tour of her influences than a fully formed style of her own.