They've found themselves in a perfect storm of miserablist pop music that would make Trent Reznor proud.
No One Can Ever Know works because The Twilight Sad knows exactly what old bits to jettison and new ones to embrace without tinkering with its cold, black heart.
No One Can Ever Know’s skill is in wielding bleak nostalgia with subtlety; boyish confusion and fear is tempered with the vague uplift of a reassuringly avuncular narrator.
No One Can Ever Know ramps up the darkness to unprecedented levels while aligning the groups gloomy rock to new electronic sounds.
There are no compromises to be reached, and that’s what makes No One Can Ever Know such an authoritative listen.
It’s pretty neat to have a band like The Twilight Sad that are quite comfortable with shedding their skin every so often, especially when that shedding feels natural.
No One Can Ever Know is kind of a failure as a total sonic rebranding, but it's a strong transition for the band into something a little more form-fitting while carrying over their commitment to morose atmosphere
If No One Can Ever Know turns out to be a transitional record, it should be exciting to see what’s on the other side.
For a young band with only three records under its belt, the exactitude and evolution that The Twilight Sad shows on No One is impressive.
It's buzzy, overcrowded, liquid-sheen indie rock that sounds professional in the worst way possible
|# 36 -||DIY|
|# 13 -||Drowned in Sound|