And that they'd play this card as brazenly as they do is the sign of their conquering. I have been listening closely to this album for a month now, and the only truly weak spot I can find is "More Than Real," which lyrically is an I'm-stalking-you-to-fill-the-void-within-my-barren-soul song: and, as we all know, I'm-stalking-you-to-fill-the-void-within-my-barren-soul songs have been boring and tired and played-out since Cro-Magnon Man walked the earth, club in hand and Vespertine in Discman. So it's a misstep, yes. But it isn't a dealbreaker: musically, "More Than Real" preaches the same frosty-is-the-new-toasty gospel that Last Exit takes as its remarkably supple central text. Its trebles soar, waver, dip, and climb again, and its low end refuses to throb outright, preferring suggestion to gesture. Its percussion sounds are wound so tight that they shake my brain in its container.