Review Summary: Mathematically calculated.
Acoustic guitars? Check. Slightly echoic production? Check. Emotionless flat vocals? Check. Forgettable, cheesy melodies? Check. Banal lyrics? Check. Utter lack of memorability? Check. Oh, Math and Physics Club.
Please forgive my grumbling, but I scheduled myself a handful of reviews for albums that from afar seemed relatively interesting to me. But one by one I started to discover that they are often just big blobs of nothing, for which even the most skilled reviewer (which I am admittedly far from) couldn’t string together a cohesive three-paragrapher. And with Math and Physics Club ends my patience for a review-worthy release. I will bite my way through reviewing this, no matter the cost.
Straight off the door sill, this album is exceptionally boring. It is one of those strange pieces you realise will not change even in the slightest, be it for better or worse, and will keep on going with its sterilised, vapour sound. Once the dullness of the opening chords of “Threadbare” kick in, you will realise that this is nothing more than a castrated Folk-Pop triviality. A ‘tender album 101’ kind of situation.
And at this point you can pretty much end your listening, because the biggest surprise you’ll get on this album is a sudden bongo addition on “Falling For It” and then a slight western-ish vibe on “Take a Number”, but both washed down by a flood of the same old middle-of-the-road acoustic mediocrity that plagues the entire rest of the record.
Am I coming off too harsh? Well, ***ing yes. How does one create an album so perfectly empty? It’s as if created with a mathematical precision to not evoke any feelings whatsoever.
Lived Here Before? Well, we’ve all been here before and heard this before and we don’t need it again.
