The band’s 11th album doesn’t break the mold, though its sound is a bit more pared down.
The album is the sound of an artist carving out a space where she can be as loud—or as quiet—as she likes.
The album embraces nostalgia, even if it sometimes feels like that’s all it does.
If nothing else, the band deserves credit for releasing an album as challenging and incrementally rewarding as this.
The band learns how to navigate adulthood on their new self-titled effort, leaning on each other for strength and comfort.
The album is, at least by the group’s typical power-pop standards, a heavier, murkier affair.
The album is full of contradictions, and they’re very much a part of the ride.
The third album by Pixies 2.0 doesn’t do much to burnish the band’s legacy.
The album questions the notion that competition is essential to human progress.
At its best, the country supergroup’s debut employs personal stories to engage larger societal themes.
The album doesn’t so much subvert an idealistic notion of the American dream as perform a postmortem of it.
The album attempts to be something to everyone, the surest tell that it’s as much reaction as it is creation.
The singer-songwriter balances the musical warmth of her bedroom-pop influences with some heavy emotional stakes.
The album finds Justin Vernon creeping into an autumnal melancholy and turning his gaze back toward winter.
The album’s pop and synth elements mark a radical departure for the seminal rock band.
While the album may lack instant anthems, it’s still a highly consistent and satisfying rock album.
The album is steeped in warm acoustics juxtaposed by austere observations about life and love.
The album harnesses the band’s infectious enthusiasm for their material to make the familiar sound new again.
The album expands the singer’s sound while holding onto the maximalist streak that makes his work so compelling.
The singer-songwriter’s guileless musings serve as a reminder of what young, unjaded love can feel like.