Pitchfork

Sometimes a disc comes along from out of nowhere and kicks your ass so hard, you'd swear this was the first time in your life you'd ever heard a really good song.

Yes, my friends, 'tis time to give props to Grandaddy, the new kings of lo-fi. Imagine a jam session with Flaming Lips, Sebadoh, and Giant Sand. (Aye, head Sandman Howe Gelb is a longtime champion of Grandaddy.) Got it? Well, it's a good start. Indeed, you'll be thinking Lips with the opening track, "Non-Phenomenal Lineage" until they kick into the next track "A.M. 180" when you'll be thinking Weezer. (Admit it. You like 'em, too.)

There's a seriously morbid, poignant sense of sadness that runs through the album and hits all of those parts of your heart that masochistically enjoy begind fucked with. If the lonely vocals of "Lineage" and "Collectove Dreamwish of Upperclass Elegance" don't strike you there, you have no soul.

And you know what else? I still haven't come close to conveying how sideswiped I feel by this release. Oh, well. The great opportunity now lies with you...