
Pure Forward Motion: The Bouncing Souls’ ‘How I Spent My Summer Vacation’ at 25
Songs done quick, thirty minutes total, nothing wasted, one band asking nothing of your mind but joy.

Records we have scored.

Songs done quick, thirty minutes total, nothing wasted, one band asking nothing of your mind but joy.

Ten songs, one voice, no distance left between singer and listener — a plain, sad, perfect record.

Brian Fallon quiets his voice for ten sacred songs, bare and cut in forty minutes — a solemn hour of old melodies held back.

A record of car radios and dead friends, twelve songs long, not one wasted upon the ear.

A soundtrack review of Pink Floyd's 1969 record More, a fevered work caught between gentle melody and dark, driving experiment.

A record of quiet guitar, piano, and fierce song, wherein a man moves through every voice within his soul, a grand and lasting work.

A record of grief, war, and the world's sad state, told in gentle song by a voice that never once raised itself in vain rage.

Brian Fallon's Sleepwalkers weighs clear writing and a melancholy voice against classic rock ground he has long walked.

A quiet porch record: Local Honey trades sweep for plain truth, and love long settled into ease.

Twelve songs, 23 minutes, nothing wasted: an old review of The Bouncing Souls' Maniacal Laughter, judged anew.

A record of many songs wherein a band ceases to merely perform and begins, with strange art, to build each tone anew.

A record caught between two voices: Pink Floyd's second album, weighed song by song, from strange lights to a broken farewell.
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