Much better than Starboy and Kiss Land and MUCH MUCH better than his last EP, though it doesn't quite reach the druggy hazy heights of Trilogy or the hit power of Beauty Behind the Madness.
A diverse array of ideas makes 3.15.20 more immediately interesting than its predecessor.
what in the goddamn fuck
BALENCI BALENCI BALENCI BALENCI BALENCI IM GUNNA GIVE THIS BORING ASS ALBUM A 50
What I imagine my old plastic bin filled with childhood toys from Fisher Price sounds like.
It's by no means a surface level trip, but if you spend enough time racking Man Alive! for meaning, things eventually become a little less fuzzy.
soccer mommy cements her brand of introspective indie rock on the excellent color theory.
Ryan Beatty's songwriting and production capabilities improve by leaps and bounds on his sophomore record, despite his sonic identity still not fully coalescing together from his various ethereal-sounding influences.
A worthy sequel that although more immediately gratifying, does not sacrifice too much of what makes the A.A.L. project special to begin with.
Frances Quinlan uses her idiosyncratic voice to continue strengthening her image as one of indie rock's most intriguing story tellers.