The World Repeats Itself Somehow - The Best Of Eskimo Joe (LP)

There are compilation albums that feel like contracts and there are ones that feel like postcards from each chapter. The World Repeats Itself Somehow sits in the second camp. Released in 2021, it runs through Eskimo Joe’s long, very Australian arc with a curator’s ear and a fan’s heart. You hear the Fremantle trio figuring out their voice, sharpening it, then stretching it until it gleams. It’s the kind of set that reminds you why people still talk about Eskimo Joe vinyl in the same breath as the band’s biggest choruses.

The story starts with the scrappy charm of their early days. “Sweater” still has that wide-eyed jangle that made them fixtures on community radio and pub playlists. By the time “From the Sea” rolls in, you get the band that became festival catnip in the mid-2000s. The guitars shimmer, Kavyen Temperley’s vocal sits right on the front edge of the beat, and the hook lands like a salt spray to the face. It’s easy to forget how strange and fresh that song felt on commercial radio at the time. Hearing it here, next to what came before and after, gives it the context it deserves.

Then the juggernaut arrives. “Black Fingernails, Red Wine” still knows how to swagger. The album of the same name topped the ARIA Albums Chart, and the single became a national singalong. On this collection, it’s the gravitational center, a reminder that Eskimo Joe could write stadium-sized rock without slipping into cliché. “New York” follows like a companion piece, bright and breathless, then “London Bombs” flips the mood with an acoustic hush that makes the room go still. That balance is one of the band’s quiet skills. Big-voiced rockers, yes, but always with a songwriter’s sense of scene-setting.

“Foreign Land” steps in with a darker pulse and that percussive stomp that turned heads when it first came out. “Sarah” shows off the sleek, radio-ready side of the group from the Inshalla era. Threaded through it all is the chemistry of the core trio. Temperley on bass and vocals, Stuart MacLeod’s melodic guitar runs, Joel Quartermain’s knack for groove and arrangement. You can trace their growth from power-pop roots to moodier, more expansive work without ever losing the thread of who they are.

Because this is a true best-of, it doesn’t stop at nostalgia. The set folds in their later singles, including the comeback energy of “Say Something” and the 2021 cut “99 Ways,” which prove the engine still turns over with a satisfying growl. Those songs sit comfortably next to the classics. No dip in quality, just a different kind of confidence. It’s like catching up with an old friend who has better stories now.

On vinyl, the sequencing feels especially considered. Side breaks give room for breath, the guitars bloom in a way compressed streams rarely allow, and the low end has that warm, lived-in push that suits this band. If you’ve been hunting for The World Repeats Itself Somehow vinyl, you’ll be happy to know it’s the kind of pressing that makes you lean closer. The kick on “Black Fingernails, Red Wine” pops, the layered vocals on “New York” stack without smearing, and the quieter material keeps its air. If you collect Eskimo Joe albums on vinyl, this sits neatly alongside a well-loved copy of A Song Is a City and that always-spinning Black Fingernails LP.

The cultural footprint is hard to overstate. These songs were everywhere in Australia for a good chunk of the 2000s, from Triple J countdowns to suburban BBQs. They picked up ARIA recognition along the way and built the sort of cross-generational fan base that keeps reunion tours lively. Listening now, what stands out is how many of these tracks still work in a room. A chorus you can shout. A verse that sneaks up with a specific image. A bridge that lifts the melody just enough to feel like a small victory.

If you’re crate-digging in a Melbourne record store, this is the compilation you grab when you want the hits and a couple of late-period gems in one place. If you buy Eskimo Joe records online, this is the safest add-to-cart you’ll make this month. It delivers the band’s story in high-resolution and scratches the itch for a front-to-back spin. Put it on, pour something red, and let the world repeat itself in the best possible way. For fans of Australian rock and anyone building a shelf of vinyl records Australia can claim as classics, this belongs in the stack.