Pitchfork gives Phoenix’s new album an 8.5. I would have given it a 9.5, taking off the .5 since it’s so goddamn depressing. I’ve listened to this album probably 100 times in the last week or two, and at first it just sounds like good indie pop, but once you keep listening you really start to feel something. “It’ll also hit your gut if you listen hard enough. There are layers here— maybe too many layers for the biggest rooms.” It certainly hit my gut. The reviewer really nailed it, and sums up my feelings well: “While the album’s 10 songs are arranged and executed with virtuoso pop-rock precision, they chronicle nothing but angst, confusion, disappointment, and despair. It’s truly universal— everybody live, love, and die.”

I should probably stop listening to this so much.