"Weak" is far from the correct adjective to describe Weak's music.
author: Joseph Kyle / mundanesounds.com
Antony Widoff is the one man mystery machine behind the music, and the music that he's made here makes me less than hesitant to throw out the term "brilliant." I swear that every time I listened to Weak, I heard something different, I heard the music in a different way--and it often made me throw out what I'd just thought was correct. When I first heard the spider-sly opener "Anxiety," I instantly thought, "this guy is a modern day Syd Barrett," and that's what I heard. A twisted, kind of dark and sad folkie making challenging music. The next time I listened to Weak, the first thing I thought was, "why the heck did I think this guy sounds like Syd Barrett? He doesn't sound a thing like him. This sounds just like David Bowie." Of course, when I came back to Weak, I wondered where the Bowie comparison came from, because they sounded SOO MUCH MORE like someone else. That list of someone else, to kind of shorten the story, grew to include the following: Sparklehorse, Radiohead, Scott Walker, Grandaddy, Jeff Buckley, Coldplay, and that was just this afternoon!
Regardless of my inability to capture the genius of Weak, the sound of Weak can easily be drawn from that mighty behemoth of a paragraph. It's a slow, dark, foggy, cold and lonely musical landscape that is tempered with soft, gorgeous, fragile singing and a hint of desperation to boot. ...there are other brilliant numbers like "Alice Said," "Regrets," and the utterly lovely, brilliant, wonderful (insert other highly praising adjectives) cover of the Beatles' "Here, There, and Everywhere,"
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Widoff plays with great energy and excitement, The disk is super!
author: David Segal
Widoff plays with great energy, verve and excitement, The disk is super and I look forward to more and more great music coming from him!
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For once, I'm nearly speechless.
author: Michael Henningsen / Alibi Magazine
Weak is Antony Widoff, a self-styled hermit who makes a variety of delightfully odd, demented and outrageously beautiful music in a room somewhere in upstate New York. Whatever this music will one day be called, it's the freshest combination of pop brilliance, ancient electronica and murderous balladry to come along since The Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs. This one was beamed back from the future for your immense pleasure.
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A flower blooming in the middle of an asphalt parking lot
author: Paul MacFarlane (Nashid)
Truly beautiful.
Insidious, yet optimistically sweet.
Lush. Emotional. Surprising. Comforting. Challenging.
Colorful.
Worth repeated listenings, yet forever fresh.
Thank you for dreaming this up, writing, recording and publishing it.
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