Some of the band’s finest tracks are here, far surpassing the cheaper sound of something like “Simple Song” for tracks that are both musically and emotionally satisfying.
The album is a euphoric earworm for the soul.
True to the band’s spirit, but willing to push beyond aesthetically, Heartworms is a rewarding and singular addition to the Shins’ catalog.
The Shins’ creative mainspring James Mercer has always had a knack for creating distinctive earworms, whose unusual, serpentine melodies burrow deep into one’s affections. Now, on the first Shins album in five years, the title Heartworms suggests he’s trying to do something similar with emotions, sketching autobiographical situations whose particularity evades pop’s more humdrum cliches.
Throughout Heartworms, Mercer and company prove that their sparse output is well worth the wait. The totality of the record is enough to engulf listeners in myriad textures accomplished via sound and vision.
The Shins in 2017 possibly aren’t life changing, but overall Mercer’s songwriting creds are well in tact.
Self-produced and recorded, Heartworms is the most hermetic LP James Mercer has released since 2001’s Oh, Inverted World. His gift for making fussy arrangements seem effortless remains unparalleled.
This dynamic is the engine that powers Heartworms, with subject matter frequently much heavier than the psychedelia-tinged pop its bathed in.
Heartworms is an understated and charming production of orchestral rock, surfy riffs cresting summery melodies and experimental streaks of reverb.
Though it takes a few listens to get to the heart of Heartworms, fans who have stuck with Mercer for this long will find it time well spent.
Although the core songwriting is never quite as captivating and merciful as it was on previous albums, Heartworms nonetheless has an adventurous outer shell, and the Shins seem to revel in the newfound space inside of it.
While Heartworms has its melodic pop moments and the band tries to remain indie-rock stalwarts, there seems to be a lack of cohesiveness between the songs. But one thing that remains strong is Mercer's ability to craft songs that are always interesting, otherworldly, and transport you to another universe.
The Shins are normally focused on the future, but Heartworms, their first album in five years and fifth since 2001, takes a small step into the past.
Throughout Heartworms, Mercer ruminates on aging by contrasting his present with his past.
It’s a shame that ambition seems to have gone missing.
There are so many ideas in Heartworms that give substance to Mercer’s unremitting passion to create, and though he manages to enliven and push the project forward it more so blurs Mercer’s artistic and commercial ambitions.
When Heartworms misses, it misses small and that can be even more disappointing than missing big. This album is just a few puzzle pieces shy of being great, and that’s a damn shame.
Heartworms is an album of tinkering and pootling, the sound of a man reminiscing on life, referencing his favourite records – less rock star, more bloke living out his hobby from the comfort of a suburban garage.
Melodies do abound here aplenty. But what makes Heartworms so maddening is how eagerly it buries them under a landfill of aural waste.
As the elder statesman of indie pop, James Mercer has earned his right to wiggle his toes in previously undisturbed waters, but too often on Heartworms he sounds less like a genius gracefully growing old and more like Wayne Coyne in full mid-life crisis mode.
Heartworms has some songs that longtime Shins fans will appreciate, and they should seek out those songs. But in the age of unlimited audio streaming, it is hard to make a case that the entire album is worth their time.
Special effects and studiously flamboyant vocals result in surrealist, cartoon pop that’s stuck in the adolescent.
Aimless and fussy, Heartworms sounds like the kind of album a person with slightly too much money, their own studio and a massive ego would make. Crushingly disappointing, this is, alas, no return to form.
#31 | / | Double J |
#71 | / | Fopp |
#72 | / | Les Inrocks |
#77 | / | Drowned in Sound |
#90 | / | Louder Than War |
/ | Esquire (UK) |