A smart, retronic record for anyone who wanted The King of Limbs to be more sing-along. --In our current rock rotation right now--
The city that never sleeps has finally been caught napping. Brooklyn, once the driving force of 21st century alt-pop, appears to have caught up with the 80s revival four years too late. Hence recent albums from Chairlift and School of Seven Bells that couldn’t be more in debt to Fleetwood Mac’s Tango in the Night if they were full of samples of skirts being flapped around a farmstead, and this third album from leftfield rockers White Rabbit, formerly berated for their adherence to stolid indie formulae on their Britt Daniel-from-Spoon-produced second album It’s Frightening. Ironically, it’s the Rabbits that achieve here what dozens of wannabe Weidlins have failed to pull off: making the neon decade sound like the future.