Reviews by rhymingnonsensically

Ladies and Gentlemen. I guess that takes in most of you. This is the opening of a new opera season, a season made possible by the generous checks of Mrs. Claypool. I am sure the familiar strains of Verdi's music will come back to you tonight, and Mrs. Claypool's checks will probably come back in the morning. Tonight marks the American debut of Rodolfo Lassparri. Senor Lassparri comes from a very famous family. His mother was a well known bass singer. And his father was the first man to stuff spaghetti with bicarbonate of soda, thus causing and curing indigestion at the same time. And now on with the opera. Let joy be unconfined. Let there be dancing in the streets, drinking in the saloons and necking in the parlor. Play, Don.

They sound as bored as I feel listening to this

The middle to end of this album is as good as anything that's been recorded but the opening third is middling to outright bad--I Know It's Over and Never Had No One Ever are automatic skips anytime I play this album. That said the highs are so damn good and are as good as a British band had sounded since the Beatles.

I love judging a book by a cover and was prepared to really drag it when the album cover revealed itself. And while the self-important indie band criticisms are probably true I quite liked the music--the lyrics were good and the music pleasant in a way that was both familiar and fresh. I must be Celtic or something, the music from this period in Northern England/Scotland/Ireland continues to really have a hold.

Definitely a cut above the majority of other 90s hip hop albums we've been gifted.

I do enjoy this album even if I've never understood the intensity it looks like it inspires.

More of the same overly moody ambience but for some reason this is the one that kind of connected

I really like REM's sound here but all of the songs on this album seem a bit half-assed and underwhelming which is an odd combination.

The definition of a nice little album

I just spent four days smoking five packs a day because of the wildfires and this album is the worst thing I can think of to ever come out of Canada

Robert Fripp is definitely one of the most distinctive guitarists in rock. Wanted to dismiss this as experimental dreck but I feel like there's a lot here to sink your teeth into with time. Tentative three for now, I feel like I could fixate on this for a month or come back a season later and rate it a two.

Pretty middle of the road but I'm a sucker for the pop punk sound. Shoutout Derry

Warbling is good if you're a bird but it's a tougher sell if you're the lead singer of a band beyond 1920

If I walked into a barbecue joint and this was playing I would be very happy. Goodbye belt, hello heartburn.

There's a high enough floor here because the Fleetwood Mac sound is one of the best we have but most of the songs feel pretty flimsy and undercooked.

This is a fun little album, we're swinging from what appears to be an update on the Doors to demented polkas. One of us knows this listener to be a fan of a polka.

I like how much 1970s Britain has to say to 2020s America

I mean it's no Neil Young

Rock solid album, this is about as good as that spoken word/singing style can get.

A pleasantly inoffensive wall of turds. New York City Song is a nice little ditty