Too often the album’s big swings don’t always land a clean hit.
An album of collisions: between time and space, past and present, precision and spontaneity.
The album is fluid, organic, and very Stereolab.
This is transformation by scalpel, told in songs that are defiant and unflinchingly honest.
The album’s production is imbued with a rich sense of depth and warmth.
Abel Tesfaye is tired of the Weeknd, and after a while, you start to feel it too.
The album feels alternately vivid and vaguely sketched.
A quick and laidback 22 minutes, the album is over before you know it.
The duo’s second album allows for strange detours through a sonic hall of mirrors.
In trying to make “fun” pop music, Robinson wound up making the sincerest album of his career.
The long game of the singer-songwriter’s creative arc comes into greater focus.
The album is a world unto itself and the most fully realized version of the singer’s sound.
The album challenges assumptions about what pop is and offers an exciting glimpse of what it could be.
A visceral examination of art and nature when both are pushed to the brink.
A live album that revisits its source material with even more grit and grime.
The band once again demonstrates their knack for vibe-setting but struggles to captivate.
The album is paradoxically sparse in its construction but dense in its intense inscrutability.
The album feels stunningly natural, with a bucolic sense of quiet and serenity.
The album strikes a meticulous balance of firebrand punk and intoxicating power pop.
On their fifth studio album, the band mixes comedy with contemplation.