But what do these goods mean now, and what do they do for us? Craig Finn, the lyricist whose dioramic visions of The Apocalypse Jr. animated Lifter Puller,  remains secure in his conviction that the glass isn’t only half empty, it was full of lighter fluid in the first place, and now we’ve all got some dribbling from our chins. Tad Kubler lets his inner Randy Bachman out to play, and then makes him use distortion instead of chorus. The rhythm section holds that shit the fuck down, and they are gonna keep that shit the fuck down, even if they have to be assholes about it.  Meanwhile, the album’s publicity campaign makes rather a lot of pointing out that the rock you hear on this record, bursting as it is with somewhat malicious glee and indulgent regret, is not meant in an ironic way.

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