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Another rock-solid batch of songs delivered at a typical easygoing pace.
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The members of the group craft melodic grooves that mesh with unpolished but tuneful guitars and mellow vocals into a lo-fi ambient sound that grows on the listener.
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York Blvd., Acetone's fourth album, is its most fully realized effort yet, attaching guitarist Mark Lightcap's drowsily effervescent solos to a set of shaggy but economical tunes worthy of Neil Young's stamp of approval.
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Like a comfortable old Pink Floyd album, this is the kind of thing to listen to while floating in space.
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Acetone manage to take enough twists and turns on their dusty trail to stave off outright boredom, and they certainly have a talent for doing as much as they can with a fairly limited formula. However, as York Blvd progresses, the album's dreamy torpor becomes stifling, and the songs, while never anything other than pleasant, fail to distinguish themselves from one another.
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MagnetJust when the Los Angeles-based trio's fourth album threatens to dissolve into another sleeping-beauty effort you might enjoy as a nightcap, something happens... [#48, p.74]
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The new York Blvd. settles on likably shambling, lazily paced pop, but Acetone still hasn't quite cemented an identity for itself. The reason has a lot to do with the fact that, even at its most pleasantly languid ("Vibrato," "Bonds"), York Blvd. just isn't especially engaging.