Regardless of who and how many are playing around him, Pierce's best ensembles work in a shamanist fashion, escorting the attendees through grandiose up-river voyages into the heart of sonic darkness and back again. (At worst, they're a loud Low, with Spectorian approximations of T. Rex hooks.) If comparisons are needed, it's in the Pink Floyd-meets-Sonic Youth airs, but one needn't have a pretentious bone to enjoy what Pierce wants to lay down. Cut through the bullshit accoutrements, and "Medication," "Stop Your Crying," "Come Together," and a half-dozen others sound like majestic space-pop songs, without the new wave tendencies. That said, boredom will factor in only if your THC level is low, so smoke 'em if you got 'em.
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