Ironically, the sound of Ono crying on a background track is far more pleasant.
Review: Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter, Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul
Despite the quirky vocals, much of Like, Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul is old school.
This is what you might hear riding an elevator if you lived inside a J.G. Ballard short story.
Though Ghost is often revered for their originality, they’re not breaking or rewriting any rules here.
This three-disc collection of b-sides captures Waits’s three-pronged approach to songwriting.
The Destroyed Room makes one hell of a sweater set.
The album is a precious, in every sense of the word, masterpiece.
This is a key piece in the post-mortem puzzle of alternative rock ‘n’ roll’s most enigmatic frontman.
The music gods have not been kind to former members of Belle and Sebastian.
With Sordid Sentinels you get the joy of Pavement’s top-shelf rarities without the hassle of tracking them down.
Wintersong is a seasonal showcase for McLachlan’s cathedral-ready soprano.
Playing with Fire settles into its mediocre groove early.
When is Willie Nelson going to work with Toby Keith again?
It’s too inconsistent to be declared the masterpiece of which Colin Meloy and company are capable.
Review: Gothic Archies, The Tragic Treasury: Songs from a Series of Unfortunate Events
The masses are urged to wait for when Treasury’s best tracks are compiled on the boxed set.
Perhaps the blight of the rock ‘n’ roll pioneer is to sound like one’s followers.
The Lemonheads is nearly as great as the band’s masterpiece, It’s a Shame About Ray.
Fading Trails shows that Jason Molina capable of being a striking indie-rock personality.
The album often feels like a retread of I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One.
Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Go too often confuses tedium with poignancy.