Widow City

It all sounds cleaner and more accessible than anything they've done in the past, but that might actually be part of the problem.

Widow City is the Furnaces' punchiest set to date. [Nov 2007, p.104]

For a 21st century rock band, there isn't a single moment here that threatens to turn into an 'anthem' to be balled out at the Nestle-Monsanto Rock Festival at a mud-pit near you next summer.

It’s a decided step forward, more confident and comfortable than they’ve ever sounded, and with (as always) a few unfortunate exceptions, an incredibly strong collection of songs. [Fall 2007, p.73]

The Fiery Furnaces earn repeated listens on hooks and convoluted storytelling alone, though 2003's "Gallowsbird's Bark and Bitter Tea" hold more surprises.

Widow City goes on for a while--maybe too long. But it's quite a trip [Oct 2007, p.106]

Widow City covers so much territory so quickly that it can actually give you jetlag, and its geographical diversity is mirrored by its hallucinatory, irreconcilable lyrics.

A gas, a blast. [12 Oct 2007, p.75]

So the Furnances are up to their usual tricks, making unexpected mash-ups of their own ideas. [Nov. 2007, p.160]

Widow City is by far the band’s toughest-as-nails record yet, with Matthew incessantly setting fire to the stage.

Widow City is endlessly enjoyable, yielding new detail every time you slip through its song mazes. [Oct 2007, p.59]

Widow City is a fascinating album. Unfortunately, sometimes it's more fascinating than it is listenable.

This dauntingly difficult-to-sit-through disc of scattershot rhythms, quickly discarded melodies, and opaque ideas seems as much a contrarian dare to its audience as anything else. That's either good or bad news, depending on whether you find Eleanor and Matthew Friedberger's schizophrenic approach irritating or intriguing, grating or great - or maybe both.

Widow City is among its least convoluted and most straightforward.

It’s a fantastically difficult record, but almost every passage of knotty head-game weirdness quickly dovetails into something dramatic and physical, and it all sparkles with crushed particles of the blues.

The libretto/story/concept of the album is of absolutely no interest to me, and it won't be to you either.

An astonishing act of rejuvenation and reclamation, the album may just be the group’s best to date, and solidly reestablishes Eleanor and Matthew as progenitors of brilliantly exciting, mind-scrambling pop.

No one does puzzle-pop quite like the Fiery Furnaces, and despite the multi-genre pileups and lofty literary pretension, when they get it right it's enough to forgive them for when they get it wrong.

Widow City is wordy, nerdy, and throws in everything but the hurdy-gurdy.

This record's delightful and wholly original; no one else could possibly have made it.