Pitchfork

On Adam and Eve, Catherine Wheel have gone soft. Their tolerable penchant for faux-metal has given way to mousy acoustic balladry. Something that always made Catherine Wheel bearable was the contrast between their light metal sound and Rob Dickinson's breathy voice. Now his vocals simply overwhelm music that's drenched in slowly strummed guitars and meandering keyboards.

Dressing up this slower tempo with vague, silly lyrics only makes things worse. Awful prose like, "If Superman and Sonic Youth are fairy tales/ It's time to face the truth/ You'll throw your life away/ A woman dressed as Baby Jane" can be found throughout Adam and Eve. It makes it difficult to allow this band the seriousness it so anxiously wants.

In their sound and lyrics, Catherine Wheel have always walked the fine line between British romantic, majestic gloom and pomposity. On Adam and Eve, the band trips on their overzealousness and the whole effort sinks under creeping insincerity. Whether it's another tragic love poem ("Goodbye") or superfluous pop ("Delicious" and "Satellite"), this record is instantly forgettable. And when Dickinson croons like an old lounge singer on the last track, "And they'd feel good/ And I'd feel good/ We'd all feel good/ That would be so good," it's downright boring.