| 91 |
Spin
There isn't a tune on No Cities Left, the Dears' gorgeous second album, that's not pitched at a minor state of emergency. [Jan 2005, p.99]
|
| 90 |
Tiny Mix Tapes
Sad music has never sounded so uplifting.
|
| 90 |
Playlouder
This is an album on which EVERYTHING ace you can think of in indie happens.
|
| 90 |
Mojo
A drizzly doomsday masterpiece. [Nov 2004, p.108]
|
| 86 |
Filter
An astoundingly complex, deeply evocative pop record. [#13, p.98]
|
| 80 |
Uncut
This is seriously literate stuff, and all the better for it. [Nov 2004, p.120]
|
| 80 |
New Musical Express
Sound[s] like Marvin Gaye fronting The Smiths while the London Philharmonic Orchestra has a stab at the Burt Bacharach songbook. [9 Oct 2004, p.55]
|
| 80 |
All Music Guide
At its best sounds like a suicidal combination of Blur and the Divine Comedy.
|
| 80 |
The Guardian
An album that shimmers in unexpected places, is never predictable, and should set the Dears up to be major contenders in 2005.
|
| 75 |
Stylus Magazine
There’s a bit too much flab on No Cities Left for it to be the truly great album it aspires to be.
|
| 70 |
PopMatters
No Cities Left is a very good album, just not quite the timeless classic some would lead you to believe.
|
| 70 |
Billboard
A curious amalgamation of styles that is ultimately quirky and compelling.
|
| 70 |
Drowned In Sound
[An] intense and epic album.
|
| 70 |
Q Magazine
Can be summed up succinctly: Damon Albarn sings The Smiths. [Nov 2004, p.130]
|
| 68 |
Pitchfork
The Dears, by and large, make tracks that would slide without much distinction onto any number of mid-90s albums, neither gumming up the works nor sounding particularly special.
|
| 64 |
cokemachineglow
It is true, this album does have songs and nearly all of them suffer the same fate: a few great ideas ruined by the need for everything to be so overblown and melodramatic.
|
| 60 |
Blender
Neither for the faint of heart, nor for those allergic to pretentiousness. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.103]
|
| 50 |
The Onion (A.V. Club)
There's a strange, almost perfectly equatorial divide between five largely stunning songs, and six that might shine brighter in lesser company. As arranged, it's jarringly half-brilliant and half-blah.
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