An album devoted to the examination of the bits left when hearts get broken.
American music's sweetest heart ought to be good at this. Her strength as a singer comes not from the power of her voice but the detail of her phrasing; and the detail revealed in Danger Mouse's production is extensive. This is haiku-pop: small, rigid, defined by form. Which would be fine if the songs were compelling. But they're not really. It's exquisite, of course, but dull.Reuse content