Look, it was between this title and a play on “bedroom eyes,” and I think I ultimately went with the lesser of two evils here.
For those who like their 80s nostalgia post-punk style, and by “those” I do not mean “me.”
Oh man, if you want indie rock musical reference points, have I EVER got indie rock musical reference points for you!
If you need another definition for “badass,” try listening to this record.
It might clock in at only 4 tracks, but this is a drive well worth taking.
Thin minds are the very worst kind of mind. They’re the hardest to write about, anyway.
Everything else may have gone wrong, but at least Bombay Bicycle Club’s first release in several years has gone totally right.
Yes, this header is the best that I could do. No, that should stop you neither from reading the review nor listening to the record.
If there is a dad joke, and I can get away with making the dad joke, I will always, always, always make the dad joke, even dad jokes about Free Nationals albums.
If you put a set of explosives in the water and a massive tidal wave formed, you would get…a really bad joke. Also, this album kicks ass.
A new Juliana Hatfield album, following the other new Juliana Hatfield album, except *this* Juliana Hatfield album is The Police.
Last week, for The A.V. Club‘s weekly A-Sides feature, I had the good luck of writing about the new FKA twigs album, Magdalene, essentially her way of working through her breakup with Robert Pattinson, which I know little about*, other than it resulted in a really great album by an incredibly talented artist. I also know that I’m …
In which Andy makes the pickiest of nits about an otherwise rock solid album about how much it sucks to have your heart broken when you’re the big brain type and you know that people leave but memories remain.
No Welsh? No problem!
The odd case where I feel like I am, by own disappointment, disappointing the people whose art I’m critiquing.
What do you do when the tide creeps in and washes away your sand castle? Make another one. Then make an album with your sibling about growing up on the Isle of Man.
Instead of gazing at one’s shoes, one should gaze at their personal past. That’s a way better source of songwriting inspiration.
It’s a deer! On a beach! Only in Michigan, I’m telling you.
I don’t know what I can say about this record that I don’t already say in the kicker to my review, but gosh I guess I’ll try.
Well, as long as the reruns are erotic, then I don’t mind if I do.