You're forced to occupy their barren pop architecture.... You don't understand it, but, though you might not admit it, you do hope it will understand you. Or at least not destroy you.... You feel like there's a real live pop song in there somewhere, but it seems that most of the essential moments have been recorded over with silence or incidental noise. There's obviously still a skeleton to hang a song on, but you start to wonder whether you're the one who was supposed to bring it.... These songs are for real, but they're not about disappointment, or complacency, or shame, or attention, or glee. They're about themselves. Without ironic distance, such oblique experiments can seem exhausting. But only on the giving end: it takes a humble and prolific writer, some cunning musicians, a very patient engineer, and an overarching commitment to self-censorship to pull an album like this off.
From "History's First Know-It-All" (Endearing/Tomlab)