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Initially it all seems wrong (which is better I guess, than it all seeming right [emphasis on the “seeming”]). The voice is strangulated in that Archers of Loaf croak, the tunes aren’t sticking in my head and the hype seems misapplied. But after a couple dozed listens on my personal listening post, the logic comes rushing back. Momentarily I wonder, is it smart just because it’s not dumb? Then I respond, who cares? Stumbling like an elegant drunk, the cool lanky boys in Wolf Parade make every misstep a dance-step. Their trans-pubescent yelps with otherwise post-teen lyrics meander as does the music in an energized gait through a maze of riffs and hooks. This, I must admit, is my language: socially inept and bursting with oblique poetry, Misdirected and reticent, musically awkward yet ever so graceful. However much I want to deny the hype, in the end, I must believe it because it is true. (Terence Dick)

CD, Sup Pop,

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