Atmospheric and deadpan to a ludicrous degree. It reeks with painful irony, managing to be equally lofty and light on its dancing feet. I don't think Yorke's solo material has ever sounded as good as it does here.
Everyone seems to hate the production of the album, but I think it envelops it in such a mystifying aura that I don't really fucking care. Baroness have reached an absolute creative peak, with several songs striking a perfect balance between heavy badassery and melodic, fuzzy heaven.
A ridiculously captivating and, dare I say, graceful riff on the mostly tiresome alternative rock music that was vomited all over the 90s. Buckley's voice is one that just wraps every sound around it and makes songs feel very easily memorable, and the very imaginative production also does wonders in that department. It's a shame what happened to him, really.
An ethereal ode to the ever-aging memories of youth. How something can feel so simultaneously sparse and whole is beyond me.
A fuzzy and bipolar musical essay on heartbreak and romantic convalescence. Tyler, yet again, reinvents himself, but this time, he is way passed the blooming phase. He's shinning all the way!