Middle Cyclone

Even though Case already pushed the envelope creatively on her previous effort, "Fox Confessor Brings The Flood," she goes one step further, using several homemade instruments resembling a music box and snake charmer's flute. [Apr 2009, p.134]

At 42 minutes, Cyclone could still lose a few tunes ('Fever,' 'The Pharaohs'), which elongate a back end that never seals the album properly, but in penning almost all of her own material, Neko Case can even get away with a 31-minute final track of cricket song.

Indie rock's favorite (and most prolific) red-headed woman has never sounded more assured than she does on this solo-billed set, a soaring, brisk rumination on love and other matters that comes with a dusty tinge befitting its Arizona roots.

Her dream-cinema tales can meander, but Case’s voice will lay you flat, sure as any storm.

Middle Cyclone is by far Case's most quixotic album, and that's saying a lot considering the abstract ideas behind her last studio album, 2006's "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood." Yet it's also the most revealing and rewarding work in a 12-year recording career that has seen Case evolve from an alt-country siren to a singular songwriter as capricious as a weather vane.

I’d reject the idea that this album is laid-back in favor of saying it’s too light-hearted.

It’s really hard to find anything wrong with the way Case has presented everything and it’s evident that she is only beginning to reign in all of her strengths. It’s an exceptional trait when you’ve been able to combine so many tremendous aspects into one supreme collection of songs.

The songs here have engaging, melodic hooks to spare.

Middle Cyclone is the kind of record it's nearly impossible to hate: a pleasantly swirling strum and twang of guitars, gentle percussion, and That Voice.

Singers with powerful voices often gravitate toward material that lets them prove it, but Neko Case demonstrates the power of subtlety on her latest.

Middle Cyclone never lets go enough to take flight; nor does it too quickly wear out its welcome. [Apr 2009, p.110]

Middle Cyclone is the sound of one of the most interesting, independent, and consistently brilliant artists recording today at the top of their game.

Neko Case hasn't produced a disappointing solo venture yet, and between "Fox Confessor Brings The Flood" and Middle Cyclone, her recent production is the strongest of her increasingly beautiful catalog.

Quirky melodies and unpredictable, anti-country structures make it interesting over repeat listens. A mid-career triumph.

Less of a departure and more of a confirmation and deepening of everything she’s been exploring over the last 10 years, Case has never sounded quite so compelling as a storyteller, unleashing the full range of her humor, defiance, and despair.

Case remains her own best muse, a strong, feminine presence who demands you meet her songs halfway (she calls herself a control freak in every article I've read), but her band deserves credit for creating the ambient, dark-night setting in which her tales of murder and animals sound natural and compelling.

Her high, hard voice invests her most elliptical lines with warmth, longing and other emotions that any human animal can feel.

Case is in typically phenomenal voice throughout the record, and her production choices draw from both the dark country of her first few albums and from her work in the New Pornographers.

Middle Cyclone carries case's unique vision one step further: here, she truly embraces the beast within.

All of Middle Cyclone is reliably Case-like, in that it seems unpredictable, unless you’ve listened to Case long enough to understand what she understands: that following fleeting impulses can be as rewarding as it is dangerous.

Middle Cyclone is her most fearless and arresting record, ruthlessly composed and beautifully recorded.

Case's voice sounds even more huskily, verdantly rich than ever, the more so because she uses it so unsentimentally.

Instead of fixed verses or choruses there are two-chord patterns that run as long as Ms. Case wants, or as short; they might add or subtract a beat, suddenly switch chords or support an entirely new tune in mid-song. Subliminally that rhapsodic approach keeps the songs off balance and suspenseful, ready for every possibility of disaster or exaltation.

Middle Cyclone still stands out as another strong entry from a woman who is more than proving her mettle as a revered indie veteran.