The album is a demonstration of Daniel Lopatin’s mastery of structural tension.
It’s the kind of album that elicits respect more than it does excitement.
The album is like a mirror so polished that it barely reveals anything at all.
A feeling of finality ran through the packed room at the Williamsburg venue.
This is a thrilling, sometimes confounding album that has an energy all its own.
The album commands attention on its own terms.
The whole album is restless, overstuffed, and desperate to impress.
The series is still comically dry and capable of shifting into moments of low-key profundity.
The album unfolds like a Pinterest mood board of regional dance subcultures.
The album feels more invested in preserving a myth than reimagining it.
The album feels like a branding exercise starring Travis Scott as the reluctant ringmaster.
In the end, the album is too reverent to ever bother being interesting.
The singer seems torn between unruliness and introspection.
The album is one of the rapper’s most meandering, insular, and uninspired to date.
The band flat-out demands your complete willingness to enter the void.
Color has no place anywhere on an album this soul-crushingly bleak.
The album consists of 17 jams packed with sharp production and carefree flows.
The album is intensely confrontational and makes no effort to hold your hand.
The rapper’s latest album gets a belated release on streaming services.
The album feels like the moment Richard D. James fully embraced his own contradictions.