Dr. Feelgood’s 2025 Remastered Reissues

I’d love to tell the tale here of how I grew up in London at this time and led a misspent youth following the band around bars and clubs as their reputation grew. Sadly, that’s a tale for others to tell or another me somewhere in the multiverse. At the time Dr. Feelgood were laying waste to bars and small clubs across the mid-seventies my musical interest lay elsewhere. I was aware of them in no more depth than I knew their hit single, “Milk & Alcohol.” Even then I never bought it, I may have copied a friend’s or taped it off the top 20, but that would be it. I only really became aware of, and then a fan of Dr. Feelgood somewhere in the mid-nineties. Even then it went no further than picking up a best of or two. Listening to these re-issues has been an ear opening experience.

What’s immediately striking across all four albums is the precision of Wilko Johnson’s guitar. His jagged, rhythm-driven style, once a blueprint for punk guitarists, now slices through the mix with surgical precision. Lee Brilleaux’s vocals, coarse and compelling, are spotlighted without losing their rawness. The remastering doesn’t polish the band into submission; it adds to their explosive nature. There’s no decoration here, no overdub, no added vocals, or instruments to augment the sound, but it’s anything but subdued.

“Down By The Jetty,” their 1975 debut, still feels like a live wire. Recorded in mono, it channels the energy of a band that had spent years grinding through live sets. Tracks like “She Does It Right” and “Roxette” are lean, mean, and unquestionably Wilko; his songs crunch with pressure, while Brilleaux’s delivery is pure working-class swagger. The album’s stripped-down appeal was a deliberate reaction to the excesses of prog and glam, and it laid the groundwork for punk’s back-to-basics ethos. Listening to it now, the remaster reveals just how tight and dangerous the band really were.

“Malpractice,” released later that same year, builds on that foundation while allowing the sound to grow. The Stones like swagger of “Back In The Night” and the untamed stomp of “Riot in Cell Block No. 9” show the band leaning into their R&B roots while pushing their aural attack further. Wilko’s guitar is more powerful here, and the remaster brings out the grit in every riff. There’s a sense of confidence, even cockiness, in the performances; Dr. Feelgood weren’t just reacting to the musical landscape; they were remaking it in their own image.

Then comes “Stupidity,” recorded live between two venues, Sheffield City Hall, and Southend Kursaal in 1976 the live album gave the band a UK number one. It’s anarchy barely controlled. The album captures the band at their peak, no overdubs, no polish, just pure adrenaline. The remastered version doesn’t control the fury; it augments it. Crowd surges, guitar slashes, Brilleaux’s growls; they’re all rendered with astonishing immediacy. “All Through The City” and “She Does It Right” sound like rock & roll classics reborn. It’s a lesson in live energy, and a reminder that Dr. Feelgood were one of the most intense live acts of the time.

There’s a poignant air surrounding 1977’s “Sneakin’ Suspicion.” This was the last album with Wilko Johnson, and you can feel the strain. The title track is moody and ominous. There’s a wider variety of sounds and styles as the band tried to grow and move beyond the rigid musical cage they had built for themselves. The remaster brings all those swirling emotions to the forefront but also provides a glimpse of where they might go. It’s the sound of a band on the edge, and it’s riveting.

Taken together, these four albums form a portrait of a band that was never interested in playing nice. Dr. Feelgood’s stripped-down style and no-frills attitude didn’t just influence punk, they helped birth it. Their DIY ethos, their confrontational energy, their refusal to compromise; all of it echoes through the decades, from The Jam and The Clash to Britpop and beyond. Even the way thy presented

themselves to the media, compare early shots of The Damned, The Clash or The Stranglers with pictures of Dr Feelgood and you’ll see the new bands adopting the same defiant poses. Julien Temple once called them “John the Baptists to punk’s messiahs,” and these remasters back that up with fresh sonic muscle.

What’s remarkable is how alive these records sound now. The remastering doesn’t just clean them up; it makes them feel urgent again. For longtime fans, it’s a reaffirmation of everything that made Dr. Feelgood matter. For new listeners, it’s a crash course in raw power. In a musical landscape obsessed with polish, these albums remind us of what rock was always meant to be: volatile, imperfect, and fiercely real.