Masterpiece

There are times when Lenker approaches Marissa Nadler’s eerie otherworldliness, though not for long. ... Couple that with a really good, dense, aggressive musical attack, led by Meek, but supported by bassist Max Oleartchik and drummer James Krivchenia, and you’ve got something special, especially in the more rock-oriented tunes like “Masterpiece,” “Humans” and, especially “Paul.”

What makes Masterpiece such an engrossing listen is how they regulate the songs to their bare essentials even when they’re at their most dynamic.

This is an emotional juggernaut--an avalanche, in fact. Just when they look to have delivered their parting blow, in steps another moment that captures life’s ups and downs with perfection.

The Brooklyn foursome's debut is the work of some feverishly creative minds, as it effortlessly genre-hops between dusty Americana, Breeders-style angular art-pop and off-kilter folk. [Jun 2016, p.93]

Rhythmically a balanced mix of energetic grooves and melancholy explorations, the album is wall-to-wall artful expression that finds a songwriter thriving as part of a four-piece.

Lenker's writing in general is vivid, and bursts with the kind of verve its subject matter demands.

What doesn’t work as much are the attempts to make Masterpiece feel overly homemade.

Modern folk fans take note; it’s not every day we get the pleasure of hearing such an accomplished debut.

There are a couple of missteps here and there, but the good stuff is really accomplished. Masterpiece is full of solid, low-key indie rock with rootsy leanings and should have no trouble quickly finding an audience for Big Thief.

The softer, acoustic songs recall Lenker's formative folk-singer past. But she's found the right band in Big Thief.

Much like Philadelphia’s Hop Along the group have managed to infuse occasional explosions of guitar with an emotive heart too often missing from the scene. It’s big, it’s clever, it’s Big Thief.

Masterpiece never quite improves on this impressive opening run, though the profoundly un-country guitar pretzels of “Interstate” and “Humans” give Speedy Ortiz a run for their money, and the former even ends with one of Saddle Creek’s signature found recordings, just like one of those eight-minute Conor Oberst intros.