At this point, it is hard to imagine that any Woods record isn’t flawless. They have refined the folk-rock psychedelia that defines them to such a degree that it seems pointless to point out individual elements that make the band great. But here are a few: their songs are bright but never sunny, they pull of musical interludes that are just as interesting as verse and chorus structures, and above all, Jeremy Earl’s cellophane tenor. My favorite Woods songs are the ones that feel like they could soundtrack one of The Dude’s trips in The Big Lebowski and it will only take you a couple spins through City Sun Eater in the River of Light to realize–that’s all of them.
The Fat Angel Sings 