Alvvays: Blue Rev 12"
Alvvays' third album, the nervy joyride that is the compulsively lovable Blue Rev, doesn't simply reassert what's always been great about Alvvays but instead reimagines it. They have, in part and sum, never been better. There are newly aggressive moments here-the gleeful and snarling guitar solo at the heart of opener "Pharmacist," or the explosive cacophony near the middle of "Many Mirrors." And there are some purely beautiful spans, too-the church- organ fantasia of "Fourth Figure," or the blue-skies bridge of "Belinda Says." But the power and magic of Blue Rev stems from Alvvays' ability to bridge ostensible binaries, to fuse elements that seem antithetical in single songs-cynicism and empathy, anger and play, clatter and melody, the soft and the steely. The luminous poser kiss-off of "Velveteen," the lovelorn confusion of "Tile by Tile," the panicked but somehow reassuring rush of "After the Earthquake."
Alvvays' third album, the nervy joyride that is the compulsively lovable Blue Rev, doesn't simply reassert what's always been great about Alvvays but instead reimagines it. They have, in part and sum, never been better. There are newly aggressive moments here-the gleeful and snarling guitar solo at the heart of opener "Pharmacist," or the explosive cacophony near the middle of "Many Mirrors." And there are some purely beautiful spans, too-the church- organ fantasia of "Fourth Figure," or the blue-skies bridge of "Belinda Says." But the power and magic of Blue Rev stems from Alvvays' ability to bridge ostensible binaries, to fuse elements that seem antithetical in single songs-cynicism and empathy, anger and play, clatter and melody, the soft and the steely. The luminous poser kiss-off of "Velveteen," the lovelorn confusion of "Tile by Tile," the panicked but somehow reassuring rush of "After the Earthquake."
$26.00
Alvvays: Blue Rev 12"—
$26.00
Description
Alvvays' third album, the nervy joyride that is the compulsively lovable Blue Rev, doesn't simply reassert what's always been great about Alvvays but instead reimagines it. They have, in part and sum, never been better. There are newly aggressive moments here-the gleeful and snarling guitar solo at the heart of opener "Pharmacist," or the explosive cacophony near the middle of "Many Mirrors." And there are some purely beautiful spans, too-the church- organ fantasia of "Fourth Figure," or the blue-skies bridge of "Belinda Says." But the power and magic of Blue Rev stems from Alvvays' ability to bridge ostensible binaries, to fuse elements that seem antithetical in single songs-cynicism and empathy, anger and play, clatter and melody, the soft and the steely. The luminous poser kiss-off of "Velveteen," the lovelorn confusion of "Tile by Tile," the panicked but somehow reassuring rush of "After the Earthquake."
