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Fifths of Seven: Spry From Bitter Anise Folds

Sadly, the perfect accompaniment of the times.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Karl Broadie: Nowhere, Now Here

Far removed from his Down Under homeland of beer, footy, and Vegemite, Karl Broadie has actually crafted one of the finer examples of Americana of the past few years.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Heathen Shame: Speed the Parting Guest

Horrifying, terrifying, revolting doesn't even begin to describe this pile of shit. Heathen Shame is really a shame.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Himuro: Mild Fantasy Violence

For now, may the androids alone dream of electric sheep.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Chin Up Chin Up: We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers

If it was still 2004, these auteurs of atmospherics would have released one of the finest releases of the year.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Moping Swans: Lightninghead to Coffeepot / Circus Devils: Five

In this double-dose of Robert Pollard, one is not like the other.

Kenneth Yu

Music

The Works: The Works

The Works are the masters of heartfelt pastiche, taking the swirls, swells, runs and flourishes of the psychedelia genre, piecing together moving pictures of free love and acid trips.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Major Stars: 4

One of the album's ample musical sequences seems to evoke Jehovah, general of heaven, controlling cosmic battle sequences between Heaven and Hell with his formidable lead guitar.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Feist: Let It Die

Eleven sensual spirituals meant for those lounge-dwelling existentialist souls.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Dirty Projectors: The Getty Address

Good art impresses. Great art transforms. Unfortunately, The Getty Address is merely good art.

Kenneth Yu

Music

Robbers on High Street: Tree City

Tree City consists of 13 tracks of tightly-wound, musically-literate passion from musicians who themselves are conscious of the awesomeness of their output.

Kenneth Yu

Music

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Making kraut haute.

Boduf Song sounds like an even more melancholic version of Nick Drake, whose guitar plucking drowns Six Organs of Admittance in an ocean of overwhelming sorrow.

The Kallikak Family has created one of the most memorable experimental efforts of 2005. It is music Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi would have bobbed his head to.

Sadly, the perfect accompaniment of the times.

Far removed from his Down Under homeland of beer, footy, and Vegemite, Karl Broadie has actually crafted one of the finer examples of Americana of the past few years.

Horrifying, terrifying, revolting doesn't even begin to describe this pile of shit. Heathen Shame is really a shame.

For now, may the androids alone dream of electric sheep.

If it was still 2004, these auteurs of atmospherics would have released one of the finest releases of the year.

In this double-dose of Robert Pollard, one is not like the other.

The Works are the masters of heartfelt pastiche, taking the swirls, swells, runs and flourishes of the psychedelia genre, piecing together moving pictures of free love and acid trips.

One of the album's ample musical sequences seems to evoke Jehovah, general of heaven, controlling cosmic battle sequences between Heaven and Hell with his formidable lead guitar.

I don't see any daisies sprouting out from this grave.

I wanna have frontman Reggie Watts's babies.

Eleven sensual spirituals meant for those lounge-dwelling existentialist souls.

Good art impresses. Great art transforms. Unfortunately, The Getty Address is merely good art.

Tree City consists of 13 tracks of tightly-wound, musically-literate passion from musicians who themselves are conscious of the awesomeness of their output.