The Sophtware Slump

The perfect soundtrack for workers clearing out their cubicles and trudging away after their short-lived high-tech careers abruptly ended. The 11 songs capture a bittersweet tone perfectly -- sadly witnessing cultural wreckage and detritus but finding glimmers of beauty.

The Sophtware Slump manages to sound reasonably fresh, yields its share of unshakable melodies, and excels in production. This is quite possibly the last great entry in the atmospheric pop canon.

Singer/writer/producer Jason Lytle has a little bit of Neil Young in his voice and Radiohead in his production style.

Grandaddy sound like a lo-fi ELO and, in frontman Jason Lytle, possess an admirably unusual songwriter. Sophtware Slump is more coherent than their 1997 debut Under The Western Freeway, Lytle having settled on a theme: knackered electronics.... Cheap, cheerful and utterly charming.

The use of computers and electronic SFX here emphasises their dark, distorting, disturbing qualities...

The Sophtware Slump more than makes up for its repetitiveness with sheer atmosphere and brilliance.

What is most striking about The Sophtware Slump, besides the band's resonating compositions, is its subtle approach towards invoking a strong cathartic response. It's at times a sleepy record with songs that only work as an afterthought, or only make sense when you can focus enough attention on what the band is actually saying. But it has just enough on the surface to strike an initial interest that unfolds, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, into the many brilliant aspects of this album and band.

Lytle's rigorous, knotty songwriting skills check his band's yen for indie-rock messiness. And when everything coheres at the end, with the outstanding soul and reverie of "Miner at the Dial-a-View" and "So You'll Aim Toward the Sky," Grandaddy can be exhilarating.

It opens with a nine-minute song. It's a concept album. Worse still, it's a science fiction concept album. With songs about robots. But here's the thing: Every time I listen to it, I don't hate it.... The combination of prog-rock ambition, scrappy sounds and the odd hip reference almost make it feel like Pink Floyd growing up and making a disc in the post-Beck era.