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It's filled with engagingly warm-sounding tunes mating melodic accessibility with a winning lyrical evanescence powered by the same kind of poetic dream logic that's cropped up in Califone's concepts before.
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So yes, All My Friends Are Funeral Singers is just another Califone album, but it's also a reminder of just what a special thing that is.
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UncutTheir seventh album is the soundtrack to a full-length film made by singer Tim Rutili but comfortably works on its own, sounding genuinely unlike anyone else - every song contains a surprise, however minor. [Nov 2009, p. 83]
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Having developed their sound over six albums and finally tossed the carcass of previous band Red Red Meat, these super-sized ideas are Califone’s primest, most satisfying to date.
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Under The RadarIt is brilliant, conjuring stark, cinematic imagery via Rutli's off-kilter antiquated lyrical motifs, and a vintage instrumental aesthetic that's paradoxically forward-looking. [Falll 2009, p.57]
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If All My Friends Are Funeral Singers has said one thing at all to me, it’s that Califone merit further investigation, especially for someone who tends to write off ‘folk’ music. And if that doesn’t make it a success, then I don’t know what does.
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Each song shows new facets of their sound.
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It is another well-made and executed Califone album, and it stays completely true to their concept. Consistency is underrated.
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Like Califone as a band, Singers is never boring but rarely excellent. It’s just entirely decent.
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FilterCalifone's first EP in 1998 may have been ahead of its time, and now, 11 years later, just might be the time when the band has truly grown into its own. [Fall 2009, p.94]
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They are doing the same thing they always do, which entails gorgeous and gracefully surprising variations on a deeply resonant motif.
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As with songs like "The Orchids" and "Spider's House," the continued confidence in slow, sleepy numbers, hinting more towards the ambient side of experimental folk, like the devastating "Krill" or the aforementioned "Evidence" suggests that as Rutili ages, his music will only grow in accessibility, relying less and less on the clatter of his youth. Songs like "Gauze" used to be austere nuggets buried in the noise, but these days, the noisy abstractions are, for the most part, the odd-man out.