The topic of Kawasaki’s Rose may be new for Czechs, but otherwise it’s a familiar invocation of a problematically buried past.
5.0 sinks into the zone of mediocrity occupied by so many mainstream rap albums.
Is Godard the prostitute or the pimp?
Despite its quiet release, Small Craft on a Milk Sea comes loaded with all kinds of external baggage.
Due Date eventually settles into a rough if credible buddy film, one that at least washes off the stink of its initial nastiness.
Jeffrey Fine’s Cherry consistently grasps at hysterical melodrama.
Down There is not an Animal Collective album.
Olympia is a lush, at times dazzling album that doesn’t always seem entirely aware of its own silliness.
The documentary shines light on its subject in a way that’s more pleasant than it is illuminating.
I Am Not a Human Being is not a mixtape, but it’s not really an album either.
The compositions strive less for exoticism than a single sensibility filtered through Portuguese, Japanese, or German lenses, depending on the song.
Carmo, Hit the Road suffers from an inability to decide what it wants to present.
The film examines the divide between ethical uprightness and moral bankruptcy with dreary ponderousness.
Bubblegum feels like a transition to a less interesting place.
Imagine if Death Wish ended by revealing that Paul Kersey had actually taken out a hit on his family.
Weak all around, The Game of Monogamy clearly defines the difference between a niche and a hole.
At their best, the Postelles sound recalls Elvis Costello, only poppier and sans drollness.
Spark is one of the rare cases where guitar-geek fussiness yields magnificent results.
The focus here is crystalline, immaculately styled country—slow, pretty songs fleshed out by female backing vocals.
Three albums in, it’s hard to imagine a Mark Ronson album not brimming over with a crowd-pleasing, inter-genre collection of guest stars.