
Car Seat Headrest’s ‘You Can Talk’ Review: Loud, Messy, and Worth It
A loud, messy debut of youth and volume, wherein a young artist seeks to make pop music feel like a summer drive.


A loud, messy debut of youth and volume, wherein a young artist seeks to make pop music feel like a summer drive.

A demo album of old songs, rough and tender, that proves the voice of a young man carries weight even in a bedroom studio.

A rock opera disguised as a bedroom record, Car Seat Headrest's 1 balances intimacy and ambition across sixteen tracks.

A record of extremes — quiet, tender moments sit beside bursts of noise, rewarding patience and punishing skimming alike.

A record of seven songs, each one doing its job, about a young man getting out of a difficult phase of his life.

Car Seat Headrest's sprawling double album 6 balances ambitious rock opera with raw emotional depth, mostly delivering on its grand ambitions.

A record of a teen mind, warts and all, wherein long tracks pay off and shorter ones merely fill space.

A vast record of a nervous young man, holding pop, rock, and long passages within a single sprawling hour.

Car Seat Headrest's Teen of Denial (Joe's Story) reworks Teens of Denial with altered lyrics and new arrangements — a review of the ambitious, uneven result.

A university of scholars becomes a rock opera, nine tracks, seventy minutes, ambition rewarded though some wander.
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