A moratorium on “epic” rock, anyone? Editors are lucrative salesmen of big, empty noise that sounds portentous. TWOYL involves a few tiny tweaks – new members, Americana, falsetto – but is largely business as usual.
That is, reverb for “gravitas”, strings for stick-on “class”. Just once, on “Nothing”, Tom Smith appears to open his soul. And what’s inside? Nothing. Which is, coincidentally, what this album adds to the treasury of human art.
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