Lisbon

Their incongruence makes neither any less brilliant. So powerful is its imagery, and so timeless is its presentation, Lisbon is sure to join High Violet on any shortlist of the most memorable albums of 2010.

This is an album to fall in love to, to break up to, to drown sorrows to, or to bounce around to. One-hit wonders? Well, the wonders part is right.

Lisbon is an album from a band finally using the full palette of their talents to adapt and come out the better for it, and that's a pretty picture to behold indeed.

It offers a peppy antidote to You and Me, their especially downbeat 2008 offering, walking you through all the requisite Walkmen emotions: chipper resentment ("Blue As Your Blood," "Woe Is Me"), resignation ("All My Great Designs"), hung-over longing ("Torch Song"). But it's "Juveniles," the opener, that consolidates in one track all we expect the Walkmen to deliver.

He's sad and pathetic and needy and yet somehow still smooth, which is sort of the central animating paradox at the heart of the Walkmen. They make these wounded, anxious songs, but they make them so confidently, with such unearthly rich-guy assurance.

It's true the band has made a radical decision to turn down the volume on the wall of sound they've been building up since their debut, but in doing so they've turned up something else they've been fond of for so long: measured nuance.

Middle-aged indie jinks for NYC mainstays.

Much of the album's charm lies in its simplicity, often paring back the instrumentation to focus upon the group's strongest elements. [Nov 2010, p.96]

Lisbon is up to the band's usual high standards; if you've followed their career closely that's really all you need to know.

Lisbon is the New York quintet's sixth album, and it hinges on a precision that wasn't there previously.

Lisbon, like 2008's You & Me, is a gorgeous journey into the elegiac, inspired by the music of Memphis' Sun Studios.

Underachieving alternative heroes finally come up with the goods. [Nov. 2010, p. 110]

Lisbon is, for The Walkmen, a reinforcement rather than a reinvention - but for those listeners already fond of their sound, or of melancholy rock stripped down to its essentials in general, that makes for a rewarding listen.

Lisbon, solemn overall, plays like a jukebox at closing time, wrung out but ready for a new day. 

2008's You and Me arguably represented a high-water mark in the Walkmen's sturdy career; the new Lisbon does nothing to erode that goodwill. On the whole, it's less raucous than its predecessor.

Lisbon instead makes defiant virtues of under-ambition and overindulgence. Short on hooks but long on atmosphere, the songs suit Hamilton Leithauser's Dylan drawl. [Nov 2010, p.110]

Lisbon is an excellent, cohesive album full of surprise and emotion, not a simple show of force. [Summer 2010, p.80]

Lisbon is another great record in an admirably consistent discography. It's got a drive and precision to it we didn't see on the last record and it reminds us that, for all their intricacy and texture, The Walkmen are one of the great rock bands going.

The Walkmen have done it slightly different this time, but I guarantee that after hearing this album, the brilliance of Lisbon will stay with you for the entire day, no matter what color the sky sitting above.

It's hard to say that any specifically Iberian influence is audible here – this album's sound was more or less in place on 2008's much-admired You & Me – but it's nonetheless another lovely record.

Lisbon, like the rest of their music, is meant to be savored, the fullness of its songs allowed to develop over many listens.

Bluntly, Lisbon is a collation and culmination of their finest work in years. Rather than a selection of scattered snapshots, this time we've got the bigger picture. And it's irresistible.

You always know when a Walkmen song comes on your shuffle, and Lisbon does nothing to dispel that. In fact, it adds another solid entry to an increasingly solid catalogue.

Reportedly inspired by two rainy trips to the Portugese capital, Lisbon nevertheless sounds like a continuation of the NYC outfit's 2008 turning point, You & Me, a dramatic din of last-call waltzes and dimly lit remembrances.

What draws me most to Lisbon is the exciting reinventions on the band's own formula.

Lisbon might leave plenty of listeners unsure what more the band has to offer us in the coming decade, but on its own there's little to be disappointed with.

Lisbon sounds like your typical Walkmen album. Laid-back and tempered at moments and jarringly stunning at other times, but never dull.

The Walkmen are that rare band that can stretch into all manner of different shapes and retain their oneness with the rock gods, and they've held onto the zeal that made them stand out like a diamond among the other jeweled NYC bands with impeccable resumes in the early aughts.