Future seems content to be set dressing for Metro Boomin’s elaborate production.
The album boasts an uncommon sense of gratitude for love and for the opportunity to share it.
Running a scant 24 minutes, the mini-album is the group’s least substantial release to date.
The album’s production style keeps whatever passes as emotion in Poppy’s world at a slight remove.
The songs remain every bit as angry, smart, and infectious as they were three decades ago.
For every triumphant return to form, there’s an uninspired dud.
Stripped of its contemporary signifiers, the album could have been released at any point in the singer’s six-decade career.
The album captures a genuinely contemporary flair that the band hasn’t successfully embodied since the late 1970s.
The band's fifth album helped steer underground rock toward its cultural triumph.
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The duo’s second album is another flight of fancy that dazzles in its defiance of expectations.
What the album lacks in poignancy is made up for by the joy with which it embraces queer pleasure.
The singer's L.A. show was an ecstatic celebration of what it feels like to reemerge at one’s freest and freakiest.
The album is undeniably human in its authentic and sincere navigation of love.
For the most part, the album lives up to its title. In short: woof.
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The two performers were at turns electrifying and celebratory at their show in Los Angeles.
The airbrushed pop singer constructs a world of exaggerated femininity without drowning in irony.
The album doesn’t just feel like a return to form—it feels resurgent.
There’s a wealth of grace and unearthly beauty to be found in these glitched-out compositions.
Despite a newly chill methodology, the band still lapses into their past idiosyncrasies.
With the band’s second album, singer Emily Massey ventures outside her comfort zone.