Unabashedly grim, but reassuringly gentle. The album's striking cover art of a menacing but fragile old man is a good indicator of what to expect.
Relentless and unpredictable, the album's like the spawn of a Satanic ritual in a theme park. It’s oppressive and challenging, but also warm and charming.
It seems that a template was drawn up and filled in ten times over, such that every track sounds like the last, only wearing a different hat.
A sumptuously produced blend of folk, post-rock, and psychedelia, all with a smokey stoner sheen. When it gets rolling the grooves are irresistible.
The album is so delicate that it feels too fragile for its own good. It’s like a frozen wildflower - beautiful, but could shatter at any moment.
A pleasant, consistent, and enjoyable listen. Here’s hoping Nas and Hit Boy build on their clear chemistry with a follow-up.
Dead Kennedys' iconic debut still boasts some of the most brilliant and uncompromisingly cynical songs that punk has ever seen.
The album is a nostalgia trip and, unintentionally(?), the longest ‘only Millenials will remember’ meme in some time.
Along with a supremely confident and symbiotic backing band, Neil Young imbues each track with this and easygoing courageousness. A true classic.
The record lacks hooks and memorable moments. Although this is La Havas' most cohesive album to date, it may also be her most forgettable.