Hey, Mr. Malkmus. I don’t know if you read these reviews anymore – what with you being a cultural icon and thus guaranteed a decent chunk of moolah – but I’m Lee Adcock. You haven’t heard of me yet, and that’s OK – I’m a new, bumbling writer/critic and I tend to always screw up […]
Beautifully laconic awkward pop from Adelaide: all crushed violet and failed romantic leanings.
It articulates the feeling of inescapable grief, in what it says and what it keeps silent, as well as any album I’ve ever heard in my long yearning life.
There’s a point to be proven, you understand. Nothing personal, it’s just business.
You really need to e-mail me as soon as possible. This could get ugly.
“Just relax,” the lady sang, knowing we could never do that.
Man, that band name’s a fucking misnomer, isn’t it?
Sun isn’t as haunting as Moon Pix, but it’s every bit as full. It’s the first Cat Power album that isn’t afraid to look you in the eye. You can dance to it. It’s sexy and confident in a way that makes you feel sexy and confident. It’s a personal triumph as much as a musical one.
You need Mirror Traffic the way the ocean needs more salt.