Album Review: TMX 5 by The Mister X & Garfunkel
Alright, let’s talk about TMX 5. If you’re into the raw, unfiltered energy of hardcore and techno, this album from 2001 is a hidden gem that deserves your attention. Hailing from France and released under TMX Productions, The Mister X & Garfunkel deliver a wild ride that feels like a late-night rave in an abandoned warehouse. It’s chaotic, it’s gritty, and honestly? That’s what makes it so good.
One track that sticks out to me is Untitled. Yeah, I know—it doesn’t even have a name, but trust me, it speaks louder than most songs with fancy titles. It kicks off with this relentless beat that just grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. The layers build up slowly, almost teasing you, until it explodes into this wall of sound that hits like a freight train. You can tell they weren’t trying to overthink it; it’s pure instinct, and that’s why it works. Every time I hear it, I’m reminded of those moments when music doesn’t need words or flashy production to move you—it just does.
Another banger on here is Track 3 (okay, fine, not all the tracks are named). This one goes hard in a different way. It’s got these eerie synth stabs that feel like they’re creeping up behind you, paired with a bassline so heavy it could wake the dead. There’s something hypnotic about it, like you’re stuck in this weird techno fever dream. I remember playing this at a party once, and everyone just stopped talking mid-conversation. No joke—people were frozen, staring at the speakers like, “What is this sorcery?”
What’s cool about TMX 5 is how unapologetically French it feels. It’s not trying to be polished or mainstream; it’s rough around the edges, and that’s its charm. The Mister X & Garfunkel clearly didn’t care about fitting into any box—they just made what they wanted to hear, and damn if it doesn’t slap.
Looking back, this album kinda reminds me of those old-school video games where the graphics were trash, but the gameplay was fire. You didn’t need perfection to have fun. Same deal here. Listening to TMX 5 feels like rediscovering an old mixtape you forgot you had. And honestly? That’s worth way more than some shiny new release.
Oh, and here’s a random thought: if this album were a person, it’d probably show up to a party wearing neon goggles and carrying a fog machine. Just saying.
