This is about as indie-sounding as indie gets, but the rewards to be reaped from it are second to none.
Evan Sawdey: I've been listening to Alex G's album for about a month now, and outside of the occasional stretching-the-limits-of-tolerable-weirdness interlude, there is a basement-built sonic universe here contained in this disc, heartfelt tales married to DIY guitars and electronic sounds, finding actual soul in the intimate, the amateurish touches of effects being so deliberate and so imbued with what makes the songs great that you can't imagine them in any other context. "Salt" is definitely a highlight, which features a picked melody line so simple that almost anyone can do it (and beginning guitarists probably stumbled across by accident), but those little background details -- the warped vocals, the occasional extra guitar slide -- all add to its charm. This is about as indie-sounding as indie gets, but the rewards to be reaped from it are second to none. [8/10]
Dustin Ragucos: There's a swampy bass and some depressing strings that go along with Alexander Giannascoli's droopy voice, one tethering to a plain of existence that's bizarre and almost ethereal. Giannascoli sings like the awkward kid at the lunch table. The whole feel of the song is the kind you'd experience from a dusty old VHS cassette with sepia toned memories. It's creepily sad, but it wouldn't touch too many souls. [6/10]
John Garratt: In an era where singing with any kind of clarity is a no-no, Alex G is king. If only the "arrangement" made up for a song that appears to be constructed from deficiencies. [3/10]