Most of April’s narratives are from the same wounded speaker of “Katy Song” and “Summer Dress.”
Volume One is primarily a She affair.
The real strength of the album is the strength of every Malkmus project: He’s an indefatigably charming frontman.
Rain is rooted more in the sophisti-pop of Night and Day than the pseudo-punk of Look Sharp! or I’m the Man.
Safe Inside the Day isn’t immediately loveable, but it’s smart and original.
It really is like as if Sondheim tried to replicate the Jesus and Mary Chain.
U2’s The Joshua Tree might not be as magnificent as the masses claim, but it’s not without its share of magnificence.
Even when he’s trying to raise consciousness, Jay-Z doesn’t really have any valid solutions.
Fulfilling a contractual obligation is hardly the most boast-worthy of accomplishments.
Throughout, Young seems to be questioning the same rock ‘n’ roll tropes that he fondly reminisced about on Harvest Moon.
I’ll grant you that Magic is uneven, but I cannot admit that it is anything other than constantly captivating.
Hopefully in the next four-to-seven, he’ll come back a little reenergized.
Under the Blacklight is less of a major label debut for indie-poppers Rilo Kiley than it is a coming out party.
While Stage Names’s songs and production should appeal to a far wider audience than the band’s previous efforts, Will Sheff’s voice is as grating as ever.
Though often criticized for over-saturation, Ryan Adams is as efficient as he is prolific.
Sweet Warrior is a minor release from a major artist.
Battles sound exactly like Steve Reich and Philip Glass jamming with Don Caballero.
As wraithlike as Air’s moon-rock, Boxer is also as focused and rugged as a great punk record.
Rufus Wainwright must have one hell of a rolodex.
If you’ve ever heard a Clientele album before, you’ve more or less heard this one.