A stunning slow burn with haunting, delicate vocals in front of minimal, but arresting instrumentation. For an EP, it holds its own.

Death Cab effectively maintain a sense of familiarity while evolving sonically, thematically, and emotionally. It’s recognizable without being stale and bold without being alienating. This is how a nearly 30 year old band should age.

Greta Van Fleet is to Led Zeppelin what The Lemon Twigs are to The Beatles and/or The Beach Boys. If the shameless Zeppelin derivations of GVF are a valid criticism of the group’s sound and ethos (they are), then that same criticism has to be levied against The Lemon Twigs. At best, it’s marginally more nuanced and slightly less borrowed.

While it’s mostly unfocused and meandering, you can’t deny the vibes and clear flashes of brilliance on 40oz. to Freedom.

An endlessly interesting mix of their trademark griminess with elements of subtle accessibility. Easily one of the most underrated in the Sonic Youth catalog.

¡Maravilloso!

This is akin to a sonic field trip through their own history in reverse order. It starts somewhat underwhelming, just like their work over the past decade, but then it weaves its way back in time culminating in the grimy, blues soaked glory of what made them special in the first place. The middle section of the LP blends in beautifully with the best of Brothers, El Camino, and Turn Blue. But It’s the last two songs, which could easily pass as songs on the Big Come Up or Thickfreakness, ... read more

One of the professional reviews finds the album to be repetitive, with the songs sort of bleeding into each other. I do not find this to be the case on a micro, song to song level. The songs are incredibly gorgeous and do have subtle, nuanced differences.

But I do agree with that assessment on a macro, album to album level. Jose consistently makes soft, sweet, earthy music that has plenty of texture and color. The problem is that he rarely veers to too far from the formula, keeping those ... read more

Immaculate interplay.

NFG give pop punk some self awareness, simultaneously refusing to take themselves too seriously, but just serious enough to respect their craft.

An urgent, intense, emotional prayer in the language of modal jazz that is easier to translate than one might think. Supreme indeed.

Thematically (and even sonically at times) Flood is respectable, but it suffers from an unimaginative delivery with painfully banal lyricism throughout.

A soft, eerie album that often evokes late era Radiohead. The songs occasionally climax in cacophonous chaos which make it more engaging and textured if you can push through the slow stretches.

Ambitious with a clunky delivery. Even lyrics from prior Bright Eyes albums were conspicuously rehashed multiple times. Not the most inspired set of songs, but even mediocre Bright Eyes is still pretty good music.

A triple album that offsets its indulgent length with supreme song-craft.

This album is so messy and unfocused that it’s difficult to take seriously the rare moments of genuine emotion.

Very good return to form from the Minnesota boys. There’s a thematic element here that was missing from their last two albums which explores the concept of nostalgia. It was sonically reminiscent of their 2010 masterpiece My Dinosaur Life, though it doesn’t quite pack the same creative punch. Nevertheless, this is still a wonderful addition to the catalog of one of the most underrated emo/pop punk bands of our time.

The first song is fantastic. The rest sounds like a Brat impression.

Perfect in every way. Immaculate, harrowing production paired with dense, wordy flow that will keep you satiated listen after listen.

Beneath the overt horniness are vibrant layers of sophisticated musicality, intriguing genre explorations, arresting vocal performances, and depraved lyricism that has more emotional and conceptual nuance than meets the ear.